All posts by Landon Evanson

Editorials

THAT TIME KING KONG ROBBED A HOME RUN

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I know what you’re thinking: Jessica Lange is incredibly distracting. ‘Tis true, and an excellent guess, but you would be wrong. The American League Championship Series gets underway tomorrow night, but twenty years ago I was parked in front of the television hoping the Red Sox would oust the Evil Empire in the 2003 ALCS and head to the Fall Classic for the first time since JASON LIVES (1986) hit theatres.

Alas, that wouldn’t transpire until the following October when Boston became the first team in major league history to storm back from a 3-games-to-none deficit to win a playoff series. But Game 7 of the ’03 ALCS was neck-and-neck, and when it slipped into extra innings, I noticed that KING KONG ’76 was on AMC.

The rest, as they say, is part of dumbass history.

It began innocently enough. Between innings I would flip over to catch a minute or two of Rick Baker in a gorilla suit, but as extra frames stretched deeper into the night, I started clicking “last” on the remote between pitches. To be fair, this was before the advent of the pitch clock, so between mound visits and Nomar Garciaparra’s rain delay routine — there was time. Or so I thought.

After Mariano Rivera finished his third inning of work out of the bullpen–setting the Red Sox down in order in the top of the 11th–I flipped over to AMC..

Therein lies the problem: Kong had reached the World Trade Center. How does one not get lost in that scene? It happened to me. And about the time Jeff Bridges put his hands on the glass in wide-eyed terror it came flooding back — “shit, the game!”

The next image on my screen was Aaron Boone rounding second base as the Bronx lost its collective mind. The Yankees’ third baseman had just blasted a knuckleball over the left field wall off of the late Tim Wakefield (it still hurts to say that). The pennant belonged to New York and I had missed one of the greatest moments in baseball history.

While it’s true Florida would take the title from the Bombers (at Yankee Stadium in a delicious twist) and the Red Sox would exorcise their own demons the following fall, it didn’t change the fact that I didn’t see Boone’s bomb with my own yes. And Kong still fell,

And not for nothin’, but ’03 represented Hideki Matsui’s rookie season in the bigs. Why do I mention this? Matsui’s nickname was Godzilla. King of the Monsters.

One will fall, indeed.

The words Dino De Laurentiis shared with the Philadelphia Inquirer promoting KING KONG held true 27 years later–and remain true today: “when monkey die, everybody cry.”

Editorials

WE NEED A CREIGHTON DUKE ORIGIN STORY

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Pouring out of theatres, we FRIDAY freaks have clearly carried all things Voorhees with us over the years, but let’s be honest, the Camp Crystal Lake saga isn’t exactly the sort that haunts you.

With the exception of a single line: “Son of a bitch. You remember me?”

It’s been 30 years since Creighton Duke blurted those words toward the conclusion of JASON GOES TO HELL (1993) and damn it, we need answers!

I’m not worried about the Deadite bullshit Adam Marcus wants everyone to buy into because — no. Let’s talk about the unseen events leading to the question Duke handcuffed Jason with before Kane Hodder donned Freddy’s sweater and glove and hauled the hock to Hades.

Remember me. The implication is pretty obvious: Creighton Duke and Jason Voorhees have crossed paths before. How did that come to pass? What happened? How long has Duke been in pursuit?

Dude captured six reviled serial killers, so let’s get a glimpse of the past glory that led to Duke’s Loomis-like obsession. How did the baddest bounty hunter this side of Dog and Boba Fett so confidently determine “in a Voorhees he was born, through a Voorhees may he be reborn, and only by the hands of a Voorhees will he die”? Where did that theory come from because Duke seems pretty damn confident he’s cracked the code.

What about talk of meat suits and “I don’t think so” after our beloved momma’s boy suffered “explosive trauma” after being blowed up? Again, seems rather evident this ain’t Duke’s first rodeo.

Also, why does Creighton’s idea of scoring digits differ from ours?

How in the hell can Steven Williams still play the part? That cat hasn’t aged a day in three decades. Whatever elixir Paul Rudd is sippin’ on, he got it from Mr. X.

And should we get said origin story complete with a reimagining of Jason being lured to his “demise,” may I suggest Lauren LaVera for Julie Michaels’ role? Just go back and watch because the resemblance is uncanny.

Look, there are still those who dislike Duke because it should have been Tommy Jarvis, but we can love both my fellow FRIDAY aficionados. Real talk, ‘m not concerned with what happened to Paul (John Furey) at the end of PART 2 because “who is Creighton Duke” remains the only question the Crystal Lake collection has ever dangled in front of us that I still ponder.

We need that Williams intensity and black duster revived because Creighton Duke is one of the few truly fascinating characters the FRIDAY franchise has produced.

Now you know what I want and why I need it. Who’s with me?

Horror Nostalgia

WE ARE NOT LIKE OTHER PEOPLE

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We may be sick, and we may be disgusting, but if you boogie till you puke, I’m asking you to come with me for a minute.

Think back to one of the early episodes of THE LAST DRIVE-IN’s first season. Somewhere betwixt channeling Cropsey legend and a MADMAN (1981) musical interlude, Joe Bob turned his attention to a legend of a different sort.

Gaylen Ross only appeared in three films, including CREEPSHOW (1982), but appeared in MADMAN as Alexis Dubin to keep her SAG status. “She only had one other movie at the time,” Briggs said. “She was the heroine in George Romero’s sequel to the classic NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD (1968), so people did know her,” pausing to smirk before quipping “I’m using the term ‘people’ loosely. People LIKE US knew her.”

Never has a phrase so perfectly encapsulated the Mutant Fam. While we love stars like Bruce Campbell and Robert Englund, more often than not it’s the deep dives including Ross and Cynthia Bond (DEF BY TEMPTATION, 1990) and Jonathan Fuller (CASTLE FREAK, 1995) that give us warm fuzzies.

Case in point, my girlfriend is an audience coordinator at a local theatre whose been getting home late because the season’s about to pop off. But when she walked through the door a couple of weeks back–shortly after LIVE FROM THE JAMBOREE began–she squealed when I told her the feature was NIGHT OF THE DEMONS (1988), quickly settling in for the show.

For clarity, my better half is bisexual, so when I tell you I was quickly regaled with a ditty detailing the first time she clapped eyes on Amelia Kinkade’s fireside flex, you need to understand that she referred to it as “a moment” more than once.

Reflecting on said awakening, my baby shared the whirlwind she experienced whilst watching Angela’s erotic, demonic writhing, sharing that she didn’t know whether she wanted to be her or sleep with her. I was all ears. Think Eddie Griffin undercover with Orville Redenbacher.

Sparing you a 17-minute diatribe before arriving at “and here’s my point,” truly we are not like other people. Our love of blood, breasts, and beasts often left us feeling like we were on the outside looking in growing up — and in some cases, into adulthood. But then there was the Mutan Fam, welcoming us with open arms, an incomparable group of fellow drive-in afficionados constantly reminding us that it’s perfectly acceptable to dig movies and stars that the normies have never heard of, much less care about.

Gaylen Ross and Amelia Kinkade represent far more than a Romero heroine or sexy sway. They possess a piece of our heart because each of us cling to a cherished and very personal memory directly tied to those performances.

They mean something to us. And we mean something to them. Go to Shudder and pull up the moment when Kinkade and Linnea Quigley sauntered to the stage to a raucous ovation–those smiles and that love was real. That makes them special. It makes us special. No, we are most definitely not like other people, and as the DAWN OF THE DEAD (2004) Easter egg below clearly communicates, we are not alone. You should be damn proud of that.