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Busy, and hence, nil. Full boring details on Wednesday. But this is Halloween, and I can’t let it go without something. Big spooky movie posters follow, just to get you in the mood. Tonight we were going to ride the Haunted Trolley – it’s an annual attraction in the neighborhood. The last remaining piece of track and the last remaining usable car from the old lamented (not by me for reasons I’ve described elsewhere) trolley system (oh, all right, if you’re just joining us: it was a boon at the time, and was an invaluable means to spur development of the city, but I fully understand why people were happy to see it go: the rails fixed the routes, the cars couldn’t pull over to let people off so they backed up traffic, the cars weren’t air conditioned, and the lattice of powerlines over every intersection must have looked like an eyesore. Buses, cool and streamlined: that was the future. At least that’s how they saw it then, and I don’t believe it was entirely the result of General Motors Mind-Control Rays.) Start again. The Haunted Trolley runs from Lake Harriet to Lake Calhoun, and it goes through a tunnel I expect was suitably spookified. We drove over tonight to take a ride. The day had been warm and bright, with temps in the 60s, but with sundown came a fierce bruising wind, one of those examples of Halloween weather that seems honest and true. The kids hate it, because they can’t trick or treat without a parka, but when the wind drives herds of dead leaves across the road and the empty branches wave back and forth in distress, damn: that’s Halloween. The Haunted Trolley wasn’t running. It was a weekend thing, I guess. They hadn’t taken down the tent by the tracks. Despite the wind, the canvas was motionless. Beyond you could see the waves of the lake in the moonlight. Most haunted thing I’d seen in years, and I was pleased to drive away. Before I put Gnat to bed we watched the Rolie Polie Olie Halloween special I’d gotten from Amazon. She remembered all the details, even though she hadn’t seen it in a long long while. She held my hand and picked out inconsistencies and told me what would happen and begged to see another. There was a little sadness there – she always thought she was older than Zowie, but now she knows she is – but for a moment we were sitting in the dark and she was three and I was right there to save her from Spookie Ookie, even if she knew it was all pretend. No Fargo; busy. No calendar fixing for the same reason. Helluva day. Anyway, a few posters to get you in the mood, as if 30 days of incessant death-related imagery hasn’t done the trick:
If a robot army that fed on beauty-lusting to fuel its world-clawing didn't send you running to the theater, surely the picture of Tor Johnson practicing his shadow-lantern alligator picture did. Below, Faye Raye harvests the arms from a Terry Gilliam Python animation piece. That's a nifty piece of work - although you suspect that nothing in the movie matched the graphic impact of the poster.
Judging from the way the Creature straddles the Golden Gate, it's the Creature vs. the Colossal Man:
Frankly, I'd prefer that he walks. You can run from a Creature that's just walking. Unless you're inclined to Amble, in which case, prepare to be hurled into the Presidio, I guess. Nothing strikes fear in the moviegoer's heart like those magic words of horror: Robert Louis Stevenson!
It's not often you see a movie whose monsterizing predicate is tanning:
The movie stars the fellow who produced and directed it, which suggests it could suck a watermelon through a hummingbird's capillary. Finally, pure brilliance:
Boo! See you tomorrow.
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