"Maniac"(2013) d/Franck Khalfoun

As somebody who actually saw the Lustig original in the theaters back in 1980 (go ahead, rupture my stones and call me a dusty old relic, let's see what you blouses look like at forty-four), it'd be effortless for me to portray the role of Pist Pisstofferson, for whom fun, time, and joy have all long since passed by, and spiritedly slag off this latest remake from the New Wave of French Horror's dynamic duo of Franck Khalfoun and Alexandre Aja as another unnecessary and unoriginal one in a pungent, growing heap, but I'll reserve such harsh judgment for more deserving movies. This particular remake is kind of a hoot. People seem surprised that an actor like Elijah Wood is as convincing and effective as a mentally unhinged psychopath as he is here, but I've been in his corner since Green Street Hooligans (cinematic thuggery wins me over every time), and though he isn't nearly as overweight as Joe Spinell was in the original, he manages to look every bit as sweaty and unwashed. That's impressive.


"May I photograph your stiff?", queries the innocent Anna (Nora Arnezeder).
Frank (Wood) has some serious issues, thanks in major part to a psychologically destructive upbringing from a nymphomaniac called Mom (America Olivo)( who's more concerned about scoring her next 80's style-flashback double penetration than her son's mental well-being), not the least of which being constant crippling migraine headaches accompanied by vivid hallucinations that force him to abuse his prescribed anti-psychotic meds, as he tries to carve out a living for himself in the family business, antiquing and restoring vintage department store mannequins. Being a slight, unthreatening creep unhampered by girlfriends does allow for the pursuit of hobbies, as we see Frank enjoys a number, himself, like stalking and murdering random women, scalping them, and nailing the pulpy trophies to the foreheads of his favorite dummies in his secret hideaway. I collect first editions of books, but everybody's got their own bag, man.


"I warned you not to sing 'Frodo of the Nine Fingers' within earshot of me again, tonight!"
After Frank blows through several victims like an e-date, a young clubber, and a gallerist, in the same way yours cruelly goes through a pack of cool mentholated doogs on any given evening, he meets a beautiful young artist named Anna (Arnezeder), who's seemingly the only girl in the city who's able to see past Frank's awkward, lonely exterior and free the beauty and art that's trapped within as they get to know each other. Actually, rather than the dimepiece she portrays, to score Frankie-boy's dummies for her upcoming art exhibit, she turns out to be just another dime a dozen, self-serving egotist chick with a jerk off boy friend, that you find yourself cheering on to get the next close haircut. In the end, his fragile grip on reality slips away, and he's forced to face physical manifestations of his broken subconscious, with similar results to the original's conclusion...


"Owwwwww! Awful touchy about that tv movie 'Day-O' you did, aren't you?"
For every thing I wasn't stoked about seeing (the CG gore comes off clunky and artificial in a few spots, as per usual these days) here, I found two that I enjoyed (the first person perspective was effectively executed, allowing for some inventive shot selection throughout, and French newcomer Nora Arnezeder is an acceptably cute replacement for legendary Hammer vixen Caroline Munro, as the film's main eye candy on display), but I still can't avoid the inevitable comparisons to the original film, whose downer vibes and groundbreaking gore still have people talking about it over thirty years later. Though this is decent enough in it's own right, nobody's gonna be talking about it thirty days later. On the scale, the Khalfoun remake peels back a bloody chunk of scalp to reveal a respectable deuce. Check it out, and let me know what you think.


"That's the last time I smoke bath salts in Gandalf's dressing room..."

"P2"(2007)d/Franck Khalfoun

First of all, big sarcasm-flavored ups to Blogger/Google for deleting the vast majority of my "Don't Torture a Duckling" post during regular site maintenance, I appreciate when hours worth of my work ends up swirling down the e-toilet bowl.Good job, nerds.Tonight we're finally getting around to covering this 2007 offering from the creative team of Aja/Khalfoun/Levasseur, after grabbing the five dollar disc during a late night Wal Mart melee amidst the life struggles of local Jazzy-riding she-elephant seals in camoflage moo-moo's fighting over the last box of pure trans fats.I managed to get away with the disc in my shopping cart and most of my fingers intact, with both of the natural bo-hemoths rolling off into the sunrise, ready to spew their regular flows of illiterate fear-based ignorance on Talkback 16.In retrospect, I probably should have picked up "Sharktopillar vs. Man-squito", or some other ridiculous pungent made-for-SyFy deuce starring Erik Estrada, or some other has-been from the eighties, instead.If you've seen the trailer for this entry, you've pretty much seen the whole movie already.The blame can't be placed upon Rachel Nichols, who does a pretty good job as a Manhattan businesswoman-turned-wet n' dirty tart flitting through a cold, dark parking garage for her miserable life in a slut-tastic dress.The reason this one goes nowhere fast, I think, is Wes Bentley, who you'll probably remember as the weird kid with the video camera in "American Beauty".In P2, he's a psychotic, obssessed security guard/stalker, which he serves up with all the danger of a mosh pit full of six year old handicapped girls, and to a lesser degree, the aforementioned writing trio, whose screenplay comes off flatter'n a carpenter's dream.The sparse gore is handled pretty well, but the cat-and-mouse tension necessary to make this type of film work, is nonexistent throughout the movie.I've been more concerned using a somewhat edgy butter knife while throwing a PB sammy together, truth be told.Forwards!

A creep's dilemma:"Sure I chloroformed you, changed you into slutty clothes, and chained your leg to the table, doesn't that prove how much I love you?"
So Angela Bridges(Rachel Nichols) gets stuck working late in a downtown Manhattan high-rise on Christmas Eve, and beneath the office block, she discovers that her car won't start when she's finally ready to punch the clock for the holiday.She seeks help from a lonely parking garage security guard named Thomas(Wes Bentley), who offers to share his meager security office Christmas celebration with her when he can't get her car started.She declines, calling a taxi that she waits for in the lobby.When the taxi arrives, she realizes she's locked in the building.Back in the garage, the lights shut off, forcing her to use the glow of her cell phone to illuminate the darkened corridors.Thomas treats her to a chloroform-soaked rag for her troubles, and drags her back to his office, where he changes her into a revealing white dress and high heels, and chains her leg to the table.She later hazily awakens to discover she's prisoner to this minimum wage dipstick in a Santa suit.Thomas tells Angela that he loves her despite her sins, which he's witnessed via closed-circuit secuirty cameras throughout the building for some time.She threatens that her boyfriend will soon come looking for her, but Thomas, who's been stalking her for quite a while, knows better.He forces her to call her family and cancel on their party plans, feigning sickness, so no one will question her absence.He then takes her to a lower level of the garage, where he's bound her co-worker, Jim(Simon Reynolds) to an office chair.Thomas is convinced that Jim is evil for drunkenly pawing Angela during an office party in one of the building's elevators, and after beating his head open with a maglite, he repeatedly drives the poor bastard into a cement wall until his innards are splattered all over the concrete.

Tripe for Christmas again?I hate tripe.
While Thomas is playing 'Silly Buggers' with the car, Angela manages to escape, and while he disposes of the gory evidence, she hurries back to the office and jacks up a set of key cards, before hiding in the elevator and using the intercom to call for help.The Hindu voice on the other end turns out to be Thomas, who floods her out of the elevator from a higher floor with a fire hose, and fills the garage loudspeakers with strains of Elvis' "Blue Christmas"(could have picked a more nerve-wracking holiday song, I think).Angela then breaks a fire axe free, smashing every camera on the way back to the guard office, where she witnesses a tape of Thomas ogling her sizeable bobblers and molesting her as she lies unconscious.Her angry rage is quickly dispersed by the security guard, who knocks her out again.While Thomas does his best to give two inquisitive policemen the slip, Angela comes to and escapes again, killing Thomas' rottweiler with a lugnut wrench in the process.She tries an escape by car this time, leading to a subterranean game of chicken with the deranged security guard, where Angela flips her vehicle.Thomas inspects the wreckage more closely,and Angela thrusts the sharp end of her lugnut wrench into his eye socket, handcuffing him to the car.She takes his stun gun and begins to walk away, but Thomas' steady flow of insults(The C word?How dare you!) cause her to use the tazer to light a stream of gasoline leaking from the wreck on fire.The psychotic chauvenist is quickly engulfed in flames, and the car explodes as she opens the gates, walking out into a cold Manhattan Christmas morning just as an ambulance stops to pick her up.Roll credits.

A lugnut wrench?! For me?! Awww, you shouldn't have.
With four or five more inventive kills, some wittier dialogue, and a stronger antagonist, P2 could have been a more memorable, more enjoyable romp, but as we know all too well here at the Wop, speculation is just that once the finished product is in the can.The lovely Nichols, who appeared in the Amityville Horror remake in 2005, as well as the Star Trek remake(2009) and GI Joe:The Rise of Cobra(2009), refused to appear nude or go braless for P2, satisfied with the compromise of filling most of her screen time with ample cleavage instead.Her cleavage is surely one of the high points of the movie, too, for sure.On the scale, P2 misplaces its parking ticket, scoring just one single Wop on the scale.Pass.

Here's one eye that won't be home for Christmas.