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blackbeerandcoffeemovies · 4 years

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The Color out of Space (a.k.a. The Paranormal)

Confucius says: “Be always mindful. Minor spoilers ahead”.

Alpacas.

Yes, alpacas!

Never heard of the South American, fluffy, adorable and kin-to-the-camel mammal? Nicholas Cage who plays the patriarch character in the film and raises them and claims they are the “animal of the future”. They look something like an uber-cute amalgam of a sheep, camel and poodle dog.

Yes. alpacas . . . Damn honest truth. So, now I’ve either piqued your interest or turned you off by beginning this review with such an exotic animal. A reader with discerning taste would continue on though.

But first, a much needed literary context for the basis of the film. Based on the short story of the same title and published in 1927 by the acclaimed American classic horror and weird fiction mythos creator, Howard Philips Lovecraft or HP Lovecraft for short.

To say that Lovecraft was an interesting fellow is grossly trivializing! He’s likely the kind of guy you might feel revulsion towards but, at the same time, feel a bit of sympathy as well. Kind of like that kid in school who was always by himself and who no one would talk to. You feel sorry for him, so you walk up to him to try to start a conversation. About five minutes in, you realize WHY no one wants to talk to him or engage him! Born initially in affluence with some hints of “proper English” in his family, he enjoyed a sheltered life filled with books and literature. Tragedy though often re-occurred in his life like some annual respiratory infection. He not only lost his father at a young age but an overly protective mother (who would also pass on a bit later) would smother him to a fault, thereby endowing him with the fortitude and broadmindedness of a pillow cushion! That’s going to put a big dent into your social life, right? Also, it didn’t help that his elitist, isolationist tendency had a xenophobic side as well, but let’s not float the boat on those waters.

Fortunately, he was able to channel all this introverted, awkward, alienism into a sub-genre of horror literature that would later morph and expand thanks to the efforts of other fellow authors. This collective of fiction would eventually be termed as “Cosmic Horror”. The mythos of Lovecraft’s universe can essentially be summed up through his own words: “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown”. His writings had a strong, naturalistic bent and were influenced by the great scientific discoveries of the early 20th century. The themes would delve far outside the familiar, brightly-lit world and would even reach further beyond the realms of “space and time”. Yes, BEYOND, where gods dwell or are in a state of suspended animation.

These gods, however, are NOT personified beings with our familiar temperaments or even with a rationality that we could all somehow relate with. No, these gods are titanic, indescribably grotesque, hideous masses of both matter and energy who absolutely do not care about you, or just as much as you sparing a passing thought for an amoeba or a bug crawling on a shrub! It is a vast, dark and indifferent universe, and you just have to deal with the horrors and disasters that result from this apathy. You’re going to be eaten, stomped or sacrificed and then eventually forgotten. Get over it!

Cheerful fellow this Lovecraft, huh?

At this point, I’m already hearing the protests: “Nice Lit lecture there, but what about the damn movie!?” Ok, because I was so looking forward to seeing again a Lovecraft opus in motion pictures, I just had to listen to reviews prior to watching the film and the overwhelming consensus was positive. How positive was it? Between “Great” to “Lovecraft done right” to “Future cult classic”!

Well, let’s just say I’m not a member of the fan club. . .

The plot: a family lives out in the middle of the woods trying to live an ideal life. A meteor crashes in their property. Chaos ensues by way of a supernatural force with indescribable colors because “they fall outside the range of anything known in the visible spectrum” (from our friends at Wikipedia). There were beastly transformations, eerie environmental changes and light shows in all the various shades of magenta! A simple and straightforward plot, but as always, it’s HOW you tell the story.

Personally, this movie was underwhelming NOT because it lacked the essential elements of story-telling I prize so much in my critiques, but because it did have the potential to be great, YET fell short of that goal. The pacing aspect could be forgiven because of some supernatural influences, yet still, it felt a bit forced throughout. As for the narrative aspect, it was certainly there but the character-building I found sorely lacking, all except for two: the “angsty” daughter character (played by up-and-comer Madeleine Arthur) and the legendary creature known as Nicholas Cage.

What can you say about Cage and his well-known, “eccentricities” (i.e. - His famous wild rantings and ravings)? He becomes a spectacle that could somehow detract from the coherence of the film. In some moments though, he personified the descent of a man into madness with such acumen, you sort of feel suicidal! A difficult scene with the alpacas comes into mind.

Some scenes are also so obviously contrived, you feel that the characters surrendered their brains and willingly put themselves in danger in order for something nefarious to escalate. Director Richard Stanley in all of this is enjoying some sort of second wind as apparently, he had just started getting attention back in the early to mid-2000s but was stymied for a bit.

I suppose I understand the hype about this movie: I think those who rave about it are die-hard Lovecraftians who celebrate any passable interpretation of the literature into a film (however mediocre it might be). Such an effort is hailed as a triumph of sorts. Believe me, I understand; it’s the same situation for comic book/graphic novel fans (whom I could have an affinity with since I grew up with American comics).

By my estimation, this is a very lukewarm film and somewhat engaging. It’s not bad, but it’s certainly not worth writing home about either! If you are a Lovecraft aficionado and enjoy tales of the eldritch abominations, then this might be a worthy, almost 2-hours of entertainment. If not, at least you could see Cage displaying the full range of, well, “Cageness” he’s known for!

Finally, it was released here under the mind-numbingly generic title of “The Paranormal” since apparently Filipinos might not be intellectually capable enough to appreciate classic titles!

#Horror Sci-Fi Fantasy

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radioactivedelorean · 7 years

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Human Sample #14

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Chapter 14: A Prisoner’s Life is a Hard One

Ford paced up and down the cell, the chain on his ankle clanking against the stone floor. His hands were folded behind his back. He could hear a few other prisoners having a loud argument down the hall. By now, he’d gotten used to the sound of fighting, swearing, shouting and general rough housing from the other prisoners. It had become background noise surprisingly quickly. Ford had lost count of how many Earth days he’d been stuck here, but it had been almost three weeks going off the time set by the prison.

The prison was nothing Ford could have ever imagined. For one, it was dirty. The walls were smeared with grime, dirt and various bodily fluids from countless different alien species. The bed was thick with dust and the mattress was stained. The stone in the walls were cracked and chipped. The smell in the place was awful - a mixture of body odour, raw sewage, blood and just general filth. The background noise was constant, even at night. Ford had spent many nights laying awake on his bed, attempting to get some sleep but unable to due to the noise the other prisoners were making.

Ford had learned very quickly that the guards were only there to keep the prisoners inside. They didn’t seem to care what they did to each other inside the walls of the prison. Over the short period of time he’d been there, Ford had seen no less than eighteen fights, three deaths, and countless arguments. Ford was one of the smallest prisoners there - the majority of the creatures being held here were at least twice his size and much stronger. He’d so far been lucky enough to avoid being in any fights, but he had already seemed to have become a possible target.

The meal times were the worst. Three times a day - seven thirty AM, twelve thirty PM and six PM - all of the prisoners on Ford’s level of the prison were brought from their cells into a large dining area where they were each given a meal. The food itself was disgusting. Ford often ended up having to race towards the bathrooms (there were a separate set of restrooms adjacent to the dining area to prevent prisoners walking back to their cells too early) to throw his up. It made his stomach churn and it tasted like decaying, dead cat and smelled even worse. He had no idea how the other prisoners managed to successfully consume theirs. After a little while, it looked as though the guards had managed to work out that Ford couldn’t eat what they were feeding him and had tried several other things. They hadn’t at all been happy about having to supply a special diet for the only human in the whole prison, but federal law forced them to do it. Ford was currently on a diet of porridge and banana for breakfast, peanut butter sandwiches for lunch and chicken, pasta and salad for dinner. It was horribly bland, but at least this was edible.

Ford was aware of the diet a human needed in order to stay healthy. He knew that the current diet was going to have some long-term health effects (a lack of iron in his blood, for example) but for now it was enough to keep his strength up. He was still underweight, despite all the meals he’d had while living with Rick.

Ford felt a chill run down his spine at the memory of the scientist. He clenched his hands into fists and punched the stone wall. He was still furious. Furious at Rick for doing something like that, and furious at himself for being such an idiot as to trust Rick. Ford took a deep breath and resumed pacing. Being angry at Rick was not going to help him get out of here. Ford had examined every square inch of his cell and couldn’t seem to find any weakness in it. He couldn’t find a single thing that he could possibly use to get out, nor a single thing to break down to escape. He was aware of the fact that the entire prison was a huge ship, suspended in the vacuum of space. He knew he couldn’t simply break down the wall to get out - the ship was sealed with heavy cast iron to keep it airtight. No, Ford would need to somehow get out of his cell without alerting any of the guards or any of the prisoners (they would likely kick off and start shouting, thereby drawing attention to Ford). He would have to make his way down to where the ships were, steal one and then get out. That was a physical impossibility. Being the only human in the entire prison meant that he stuck out like a sore thumb. He’d never make it ten yards from his cell.

Ford sighed and sat cross-legged on the floor. He propped his elbows up on his knees and put his head in his hands, looking at the cells opposite his own. Several of the creatures inside were fighting again. The brawl was bloody and fierce. Claws, teeth, tails fought viciously as the beasts were locked in battle. Fifteen years ago, Ford would have been utterly fascinated to see something like this. Now, after spending ten years travelling through multiple dimensions and spending three weeks locked in a prison full of fighting, angry prisoners, any interest he had once had in the fight was long gone. He barely flinched when one creature slammed another forcefully against the wall, leaving a bloody smear on the stone.

A loud bell rang out across the hall, signalling that it was lunchtime. One by one, the prisoners were let out of their cells by guards. The cuffs around their ankles were unscrewed from the chains in the walls, allowing them to leave. Ford growled ferally as he was brought out, showing off his teeth. He didn’t care about acting like a wild animal here - it made him seem almost normal compared to the others. He snapped his teeth at one guard in particular. This one seemed to take particular enjoyment from making Ford’s life even more of a misery. Ford only ended up earning himself a sharp bash to the head with the handle of a blaster. He grunted sharply and kept walking.

Ford was sat down at a table at the far edge of the dining area while the other prisoners lined up to get their food. A peanut butter sandwich was dumped on the table in front of Ford. Ford shot the guard a glare before picking it up and sinking his teeth into it. As much as he hated this restricted diet, he did admit that it felt so good to be eating human food again. Ford promised himself he’d never take Earth food for granted ever again - it was a rare commodity in the multiverse. Ford watched as the other prisoners collected their food and took seats at the other tables.

Ford wasn’t paying any particular attention to anyone else until a large ape-like creature (a Crizeron, if he remembered correctly) sat down opposite him at the table. Ford lowered his gaze as he finished eating. He kept his head down low and made a move to stand up. Maybe if he hid in the bathrooms he’d avoid any conflict.

“Hey, human.”

Shit.

Ford swallowed and sat back down again. “Yes?”

“Why do you get to eat that while the rest of us are stuck eating this shit?”

Ford coughed and looked away. “Well, I physically can’t digest what you eat. It makes me horrifically sick. I’ve been put on a diet of human food since it’s the only thing I can consume safely.”

The Crizeron snorted and slammed a fist down on the table. Ford damn near jumped out of his skin. “Special diet my ass,” the creature grunted. “You just think you’re better than all of us because you’re the only human. Isn’t that right?”

“N-no!” Ford cursed at the way his voice squeaked in fear. He balled his hands up into fists, although he had no idea how he ever had a chance against the beast sat opposite him. Ford got up again. “N-now if you’ll excuse me, I have to use the bathroom.”

Ford got maybe six feet away from the table before he felt a strong grip on his arm. He was violently hauled backward and thrown against the wall. Before he could react, the Crizeron had a paw around his throat and was pinning him to the wall three feet above the floor. Ford spluttered and gasped for air, fingers scraping desperately at the arm holding him up.

The Crizeron sneered, showing off sharp fangs. “Not so great now, are you? You pathetic little wreck!” With a grunt, the Crizeron slammed its other fist into Ford’s stomach, cleanly knocking all the wind out of him. Ford clenched his eyes shut and let out a strangled gasp, his arms momentarily falling to his sides. Tears leaked from the corner of his eyes, He felt something sharp slice into the side of his ribcage before he was lifted away from the wall and thrown across the room. Ford landed in a crumpled heap against the wall, clutching his side in agony. He could feel blood sticking to his palms. He lifted his hand away and looked at the wound on his side. It wasn’t a neat cut but at least it wasn’t deep enough to be of any concern.

Ford put his hands on the floor beneath him and pushed himself up. His side flared up in pain and he let out a sharp hiss. He managed to stagger to his feet, holding onto the wall for support. The Crizeron shot him a venomous look from the other end of the dining area before turning back to its food. Ford stumbled forward, attempting to get back towards the entrance, but he felt his legs tremble beneath him and he crumpled to the floor again. He could hear several other prisoners sniggering and muttering at him. His face flushed red with embarrassment. He was reminded of all the times back at school where he would be laying in the corridor, on the playing field, in the boys’ bathrooms, hurt and unable to get up. He’d be jeered at, laughed at, mocked by all his fellow students. He would end up in tears, lying on the floor helplessly as he was laughed at.

Ford shuddered and forced himself to his feet again. He had to grab onto the edge of a nearby table to stop himself toppling over again. The other half of the table was full, the prisoners there giving him harsh glares as he eased himself into a spare seat. Ford looked down at his injured side again and sighed quietly. He didn’t seem to be able to stay out of trouble. He kept a hand pressed over his injury. He attempted to get up again, but his legs felt weak beneath him. He decided to stay sitting down for a moment to get his strength back. He was at least able to breathe better, now, after being winded by that punch. He hung his head low and took slow, steady breaths.

Ford could roughly hear the discussion the discussion the other prisoners on the table were having. He couldn’t understand what they were saying - their language was utterly foreign to him - but he knew it was about himself by the way they kept looking and pointing at him. He kept his head down, pointedly ignoring them. He saw them get up as a group and leave the table. On their way past him, one of them dumped their drink over Ford’s head. Ford let out a yelp of shock. He put his hands over his head. The drink was awfully sticky and it smelled strongly of sugar and alcohol. He grabbed a handful of napkins off the table and began scrubbing the drink out of his hair. It had already begun to drip from his hair down the back of his shirt. The alcohol content must have been fairly strong as it was stinging his skin. Ford let out a hiss. He’d have to wash himself once he got back to his cell.

Ford saw the guards begin to guide the prisoners back to their cells. He got up and headed towards the door. His steps were slow and unsteady, his side still twinging in pain. He figured it was a miracle the Crizeron hadn’t broken any of his ribs with that punch. It was rather difficult to breathe, though. As he approached the door, a guard grabbed his arm and started leading him back towards the dining area. Up ahead, Ford noticed the same Crizeron from earlier fighting against the guard holding onto him. The creature broke free and started sprinting full-pelt towards the exit of the cells. It just managed to reach the doorway before its whole body seized up. Ford could see it convulsing in agony. The cuff around its ankle was sparking and flashing blue. Ford felt a chill run up his spine. The cuff evidently acted as a security mechanism. It prevented any of the prisoners making it further than the door.

Ford swallowed the bile rising in his throat as he was brought back to his cell. He was chained up again and the guard shut the door behind him. Ford was still shaking. The image of the Crizeron’s body locking up in an electrical-induced seizure flashed at the forefront of his mind. The human shuddered as his mind conjured the image of himself going through the same sort of pain. A few guards walked up the hall towards the now unconscious Crizeron, hauling it back down the hall towards its cell. Its body still spasmed ever so often as the last of the electricity left its system. Ford found the sight deeply unsettling. He ran a hand across his face and took a few steady breaths. His side flared up in sharp agony again and he winced. First thing’s first, he’d have to get that injury tended to.

-----

Rick laid on his back on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling. One hand clenched around a bottle, the other hanging limply near the floor, he was barely moving, save for the steady, deep breaths flowing in and out of his lungs. He lifted the bottle up to his lips and sighed, finding not a single drop left. He tossed the bottle haphazardly onto the floor and let his hand fall to his side. He knew that he could be doing so many better things than just lying here. He couldn’t bring himself to get up. Ever since Ford had gone, he’d just been feeling empty. It had been almost a month now, since Ford’s arrest, and Rick was still not over it.

Rick legitimately thought that something like this would never affect him so much. After all, he was no longer wanted by the Galactic Federation, having been pardoned in return for handing Ford over. On top of that, he was rich! He had well over two million dollars to spend. Yet the money still sat in the bag underneath his bed. As soon as he’d gotten home, he’d tossed the bag under his bed and left it. He could have thrown the wildest damn party ever with that sort of money. He could have had as many Kalaxian crystals as he wanted, but he hadn’t spent any of it. Not a dime. He hadn’t even opened the bag.

The scientist pushed himself up into a loose sitting position on the couch. He was slouched against the arm of the sofa, his arm draped loosely over the side. His eyes were glazed over, unfocused. He glanced over at the information leaflet sitting on the desk at the side of the room. It had been included in the letter the Council of Ricks had sent him. It was about the Federal prison Ford had been sent to. Forcing himself onto his feet, Rick walked over to the desk and picked the leaflet up. He opened it up.

The inside cover was just a long list of the sorts of crimes one would have to commit in order to get locked up in which particular unit of the prison. Rick scanned his eyes over the list. What was it Ford had been arrested for? Robbery, assault, vehicle theft and murder? Rick looked down the list until he came across ‘murder’. It said that anyone who committed murder, along with a maximum of five lesser crimes, would be locked up in the 6th level, two stages below maximum security. Rick flipped through the other pages of the leaflet until he reached the information about the 6th level. There were several pictures of famous prisoners - ones known throughout the galaxy for their crimes - and some wanted posters. Rick swallowed, noticing that Ford’s picture was amongst the ‘wanted’ ones. His heart skipped a beat as he read.

“Prisoners are allowed a maximum of two hours visiting time per week, supervised by armed guards with a maximum of two visitors at any one time”

Rick couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He could visit Ford! Evidently the Galactic Federation took their crime and punishment rather loosely compared to Earth prisons. Rick frowned. Would Ford even want to see him after he handed him over? He shook his head. He had to try. Even if, when he got there, Ford rejected him, at least he’d tried. He wasn’t going to fix anything by lying helplessly on his sofa, staring at the ceiling and drinking himself to death. Nodding to himself, Rick headed over to where his interdimensional contact system was set up in the hallway. Leaflet in hand, he read off the details and plugged them into the system.

He hoped that he’d get a chance to talk to Ford, and get a chance to apologize to him. Rick very much doubted Ford would want to hear a word he had to say, but maybe if he tried talking to him, he could show Ford just how much he regretted his actions. He just hoped that Ford would be willing to listen.

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A long time ago, this fic was based off the bonus bit of this post by @looloolalalol . That was a very long time ago.

AO3 link for this chapter

#gravity falls #rick and morty #rickford #rick sanchez #ford pines #stanford pines #human sample

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