Troma is selling its Hell’s Kitchen walk-up and moving to Long Island City due to financial woes. I spent a summer in that building, and I have, well, let’s call them vivid memories of the place. In a way I feel like the McDonald’s next door that Lloyd Kaufman has blamed for Troma’s rat problem in every interview he’s done for the last decade has won some sort of titanic struggle for the soul of that block.

Read: The Gunslinger (revised)–“The Slow Mutants”; “The Gunslinger and the Man in Black”

This page enumerates the non-grammatical/stylistic differences between the original and revised Gunslingers. IIRC it only contains three spoilers that made me want to chuck my laptop out the window, which is a minor miracle when it comes to online reference material about fiction. Part of me feels like I could have just read the list and saved myself the trouble of reading the book, but it’s probably worth seeing the changes in context. They’re hard enough to wrap your head around as it is without having a full-fledged reading experience to help you internalize them.

So, Jake is dead, and unless the lobstrosity attack that kicks off The Drawing of the Three is to be interpreted as karma-by-shellfish, Roland still doesn’t get his comeuppance for letting the kid die. The man in black now openly cops to being both Marten and Walter during his post-chase palaver with the gunslinger; the servile relationship of the latter to the former is redacted, as is the one between Marten/Walter and the Ageless Stranger, who is now called Legion and not Maerlyn. The Beast has been removed altogether, replaced by a king with a red hand–the crimson king, I presume. And now Roland basically says “yeah, right” when he comes to at the end of his mystical chat with Walter to find the dark man’s bones on the ground.

In other words, everything you thought you knew about the villain of the series is wrong. Listen, I appreciate King wanting to go in what he thought was a better direction, but when you have to change that much about the second most important character in the series, whose nature defines the quest of the first most important character in the series, maybe, to quote LCD Soundsystem, it’s late for revision?

Finally, my guess is that the series ends with the gunslinger stuck in some kind of moebius-strip time-loop. I can live with that, I guess. It’s slowly dawned on me that Roland’s world is what things would look like if Flagg really won at some point, and that’s too cool to let the good guys screw up by winning themselves.

Keith Uhlich calls our attention to several interesting pieces on horror films at Reverse Shot, part of their “A Few Great Pumpkins” horrorblogging series this year.

The funny thing about Reverse Shot is that they published maybe the most spectacularly wrong-headed horror movie review I’ve read all year, Andrew Tracy’s angrily dismissive take on 28 Weeks Later. (I gave that review the business here and reviewed the film myself here.) So you might be forgiven for ignoring a horror blogathon that kicks off by reiterating his sentiments and decrying 28 Weeks Later‘s “useless ‘verité.'” But lo, the intro quickly rights itself by lambasting the “tired excess” of Robert Rodriguez’s “waste-of-space” Planet Terror half of Grindhouse. (Agreed.) Best of all, it refers to Hostel: Part II as “loathsome, self-congratulatory” and “the granddaddy of all badness,” all of which it is.

The critical schizophrenia continues at the site’s review for Hostel: Part II itself, by Michael Koresky. This has to be one of the juiciest bits of horror criticsm I’ve read in some time, because it’s split about evenly between insights with which I agree so emphatically I’m tempted to have them tattooed on my person and real head-slapping howlers. Most of the latter arise from Koresky’s conflation and dismissal of the two Hostel films, which to me are as different as night and day–so different that each day I grow more convinced that the first one was a fluke. Once again he repeats the fatuous notion that Hostel merely presents torture for the gratification of the audience in the most businesslike and unartful way possible, and I’m just baffled that you could watch a movie with (just a few examples) that factory shot or the American businessman’s monologue or the heart-stopping cat-and-mouse game at the end or that meaning-laden conversation about staying in the closet and think that there’s nothing going on in that movie.

But for every head-scratcher, there’s a passage like this:

The need to align epochs of genres, especially horror, with sociopolitical realities has always made for neatly encapsulated criticism and terrific sound bites, but this sort of assessment works better in retrospect. Those who make up this contingent of new filmmakers are from such disparate backgrounds and sensibilities, nationally and otherwise, that to group them together as some kind of coalition comes across as desperate at best, disingenuous at worst. The truth is that the need to place instantaneous social readings on this new wave of horror willfully ignores the pathetic opportunism behind some of the films, as well as the savvy genre reclamation of others. Those influential Seventies horror films, from the dingy cult basement specials of Wes Craven to the multiplex delights of John Carpenter, were for the most part recouped decades later as trenchant post-Vietnam meditations on social disillusionment as a way of putting a neat bow atop a tumultuous past.

Heh, indeed! And the thing ends with an encomium to The Blair Witch Project, which of course is the way to my heart.

And oh, while we’re on the subject of Hostel, Jason Adams reports that the director’s cut of Hostel–and how annoying is it that the unrated cut I already own isn’t the director’s cut? If Roth cares about the fans as much as he says he does, he wouldn’t participate in this kind of transparent, almost clichéd DVD-rebuying huxterism, but oh well–makes a change to the original ending that’s supposedly a vast improvement. I wasn’t wild about that ending, though not for Jason’s reasons–I didn’t read it as homophobic catharsis, but simply as a not-particulary-believable move for the characters involved. Maybe that’s changed.

Back to Reverse Shot, in a move sure to make Jason happy, their aforementioned “Great Pumpkins” series contains a review of Paperhouse (by Robbie Freeling), a movie that I don’t think I’ve ever seen discussed outside of horror blogs.

Better still, Freeling also looks at Philip Kaufman’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers with the explicit goal of giving it the credit it’s due as an unqualified classic of the genre. I think he’s right. I don’t know any horror fan (or even casual, Halloween-time horror-movie watcher) who hasn’t seen that movie and loved it, and gotten the bejesus scared out of them at least twice (you can probably guess when if you’ve seen it), and yet even I rarely give it the time of day. I’m thinking the reason it’s not talked about in the same way and with the same frequency as, say, John Carpenter’s comparable ’50s-scifi-parable-as-body-horror-and-paranoia remake The Thing is because it wasn’t made by a genre stalwart like Carpenter, but by the guy who did The Right Stuff.

Follow those links and read is my advice.

Like an ugly duckling, Day of the Dead took some time to get the love it deserved (and even then it has remained a black sheep amongst its brethren) – a scenario not uncommon to works of art that tell people what they simultaneously need to know and want not to hear.The film was – and to a large extent, remains – a victim of its own implicit place in film history; like the occasionally artful summer blockbuster, Romero’s third “Dead” entry is routinely examined and dismissed less for its own qualities than its “failure” to conform to the expectations unfairly assigned to it sight unseen, here as a zombie movie sequel indebted to two highly lauded works come before. Night of the Living Dead and Dawn of the Dead were both brilliant and easily among the greatest horror films ever made, but that Day of the Dead doesn’t follow the expected trilogy arc of capping off its saga with all-out climactic spectacle is hardly an inherent strike against it. Part of this degrading misconception lies in the fact that Romero’s original vision was cut short by budgetary restraints over issues with the increasingly more powerful MPAA rating system, the final result being far from the originally conceived “Raiders of the Lost Ark with zombies”, and gore hounds subsequently decrying the relative lack of visceral bloodshed (regardless of the fact that, during its brief moments of splatter, Day features some of the sickest zombie action ever filmed).

—Rob Humanick on Day of the Dead.

Is this really accurate? I know that supposedly the initial audiences were let down by the movie’s failure to be as large-scale in comparison to Dawn as Dawn was to Night, but I’ve never heard anyone talk about it on those terms in any present-day conversations. I’ve certainly never heard anyone “decry the relative lack of visceral bloodshed,” since it’s easily the goriest, most disgusting entry in the trilogy. The reason most people I know who don’t like it don’t like it is that they feel it’s boring and slow and sloppily paced and the characters are poorly written and acted.

I happen to like it more each time I see it, but in the defense of those who don’t, I hardly think this is because “they can’t handle the truth!” or what have you.

Why does Batman laugh so much in All Star Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder?

There’s a number of possible, more-or-less mutually inexclusive answers.

First, maybe writer Frank Miller is completely fucking nuts, and simply has no control over what his fingers are doing anymore, which, naturally, is why he’s been entrusted with creative roles on expensive movie projects.

—Joe McCulloch.

You’d be surprised how many times this theory has been advanced to me by a straight face by people you’d think would know better. Or I dunno, maybe you wouldn’t.

What was my worst Halloween costume ever? Find out at this week’s Horror Roundtable–the answer may surprise you!

Jimmy crack corn and I don’t care, but I thought you’d be entertained.

(Via B-D)

Read: The Gungslinger (revised)–“The Oracle and the Mountains”

In reading The Gunslinger again (for the first time), I’ve discovered part of what made The Drawing of the Three feel so lame by comparison. In Book One, the gunslinger (calling him Roland in this book’s context doesn’t feel right) reacts to any tenderness he feels toward Jake with shock bordering on horror. Eventually he allows himself to love the kid, but puts it aside the second the man in black makes it clear that he will face a choice between saving Jake and chasing the Tower. Finding and then killing Jake adds another log on the simmering fire of the gunslinger’s guilt, but it doesn’t change him in any fundamental way. As we’re constantly reminded, he’s got a lot of dead friends, many of whom ended up that way thanks to him.

But along comes Book Two, and by the end the guy’s a changed man, using the idioms of, genuinely caring about and taking risks on behalf of other people. Two of the most irritating people of all time, by the way–a junkie who never shuts up and a woman with a split personality, half of which is psychotic, who also never shuts up. We’re supposed to buy that these clowns peel away Roland’s layers to find the still-warm heart within, but not Jake? Bullroar.

I am traveling this weekend and may or may not have Internet access, so there may or may not be a gap in my Dark Tower blogging. Whenever I have net access again I’ll add in those entries, then pretend they were always there, revised-Gunslinger-style.

Read: The Gunslinger (revised)–“The Way Station”

Maybe I just needed to vent. Maybe I’m less tired and grumpy, I don’t know. I’m a lot less irritated with the revisions made in this chapter, that much I can tell you. I think many of the changes are still on the obnoxious side–more overt references to the events of Wizard and Glass‘ flashback, more “hey here are some references to NYC that Roland doesn’t understand, because Jake comes from New York in the modern day, get it?”, and for some reason more references to poop, which is something this chapter has in common with the previous one. What I’m guessing the most pivotal change will be is the insertion of a warning about “the taheen”–a man with the head of a bird; a reference Roland spotting one as he chased the man in black had been inserted into “The Gunslinger” as well–into the prophecy of the speaking-demon in the way station’s cellar. Considering how crucial the other two sentences the demon uttered (“Go slow past the Drawers, gunslinger” and “While you travel with the boy, the man in black travels with your soul in his pocket”) have been, this’ll probably be big too. It also happens to describe the creature that appears in the delightfully, mysteriously incongruous man-vs.-monster logo for The Stand.

One revision cleared up a major plot point: Marten is Farson, the Good Man. I actually had to go back and check this against the original version to make sure this wasn’t another brand-new element. After all, this means that all four big bads–Farson, Marten, Walter, and Flagg–are the same being. But sure enough, the original has Roland musing on the love triangle formed between his dad, his mom, and Marten, “known in some quarters as the good man.” But as King mentioned in his foreword to the revised edition, the original passage that led up to this revelation used Farson as the name of the town the Good Man’s saboteur Hax was going to poison, not the name of the Good Man himself. Changing the sentence to read “Marten–known in some quarters as Farson, the good man” brings it all home to those of us with cloudy memories. And now I find myself a lot more open to the idea that Flagg, Marten, and Walter are all the same dude, since there’s no longer the mystery of what their real relationship to Farson is–I probably should have remembered that passage during my read through the subsequent three books, but yep, all four are one and the same. Throw in the Ageless Stranger and you’ve got five. But what about the crimson king, and the Beast that rules the Tower? They seem to be references to Flamartersonger’s boss. (Apologies to those Wes Anderson phone commercials.)

I’m still confused, but at least I’m a bit less infuriated.

So to me, the exciting thing is watching trajectories of all these media crossing, and watching them all go their merry ways is very, very interesting. I feel like we’ve only begun. I’m thinking about the way books are published now and the way they were 20 years ago when I first came in. The way that comics are held now, the regard with which comics are held. How much of cinema–commercial cinema–is dependent upon our comics. That astonishes me. There was a time when you couldn’t get a comic book on a screen for neither love nor money. Now, it seems like something that’s had a two-issue run is legitimate fodder for somebody somewhere. So I think we’ve got a lot of very interesting collisions coming, and I’m glad to be sitting at the crossroads as the various media race towards the same spot, each from a different direction.

—Clive Barker, in part four of his interview with N’Gai Croal at Newsweek‘s video game blog, Level Up.

This is what it’s like when worlds collide.

Go read what he has to say about The Sopranos and Melville, too.

If you can remember when the comics blogosphere consisted of about dozen people, this will come as a blow: David Allen “Johnny Bacardi” Jones has decided to close down his long-running (five years!) blog. Johnny had a well-defined, intelligent viewpoint about comics and he intelligently articulated it for a long, long time. I’ll miss him, especially now that I’m getting back involved in comicsblogging. Fortunately he’ll still be keeping up Elton John blog, where he’s writing about every song in John’s 1966-1979 catalog one post at a time, which is the kind of fabulous idea only good bloggers would come up with in the first place.

Johnny’s departure, hinging as it does on his impression that blogospheric tastemakers had him on the pay-no-mind list, also brings up the kind of “why blog? and for whom?” issues that are worth airing from time to time. I can tell you that getting away from comicsblogging and shifting gears to horror was probably a great thing for me to do. The horror blogosphere isn’t nearly as concerned with industry punditry or advocacy as the comics blogosphere is; for one thing, in horror media like film, television, and prose, the lines of demarcation between fan, critic, and creator are a lot firmer than they are in the still comparatively romper-room industry of comics, so you’re operating at a remove from the business end of things and therefore feel like you have less clout, so who cares? It’s just people talking. There also tends to be less snark involved–I don’t know what it is about funnybooks that makes people come out swinging, but I noticed that my own dick-o-meter started edging up the second I started blogging about comics again a few weeks ago and it takes some doing to force it back down. All this makes horrorblogging an enterprise that feels much less dependent on the approval or opprobrium of others for its survival, which is a feeling that carries back over into other kinds of blogging you do, which is why I’d keep this thing up regardless of how much feedback I got or didn’t get.

Anyway. Go tell Johnny goodbye. Goodbye Johnny!

Read: The Gunslinger (revised)–“The Gunslinger”

A fifth of the way through this dopey vanity project of King’s and I’m already tired of it. I don’t know how else to characterize this revision but “vanity project”; it doesn’t give me any choice. It’s the work of a guy convinced he knows better than the author he once was–if he could just expand this one sentence into three, if he could just take that amorphous sense of mystery and load it with clues, then it’ll be a better book, right?

Good golly miss Molly, wrong.

Case in point: The first section of The Gunslinger‘s first chapter, also called “The Gunslinger,” was in its original form maybe the best pure prose King ever set to paper. Ruthless, relentless, economical, terse, mysterious, haunting. Minimal distractions of mythos or invented patois, but still enough to hint at deep waters beneath the still surface. So when I started rereading it in this revised format, I gave it a straight read through, then went back and flipped between the two versions every paragraph. The still, Sergio Leone opening has ballooned. It’s been made flabby and flaccid with extra conjunctions, extra sentences, extra paragraphs. It’s like watching someone with obsessive-compulsive disorder try to comb his hair, incapable of leaving well enough alone.

Like the rest of “The Gunslinger,” it’s also laden with forced references to events from the other books in the series, those already published and those yet to be, as if King’s internal editor had stepped aside and his internal Dark Tower Concordance publisher burst forth to say “Hey, didja know about the Manni cult? Or that we call Jesus ‘the Man Jesus’? Or that the north star is Old Mother? Or that Roland had a horn once? And that that’s REALLY important? Or that he went to this place called Mejis and his girlfriend was burned to death and a guy named Eldred Jonas led a bunch of guys called the Big Coffin Hunters and there was a Charyou Tree ceremony and livestock grow mutated and autumn is called Reap and thankee-sai and kennit and crimson king and Sheemie had a mule and the beam and LaMerk machinery and Jericho Hill and long days and pleasant nights and blah blah blah blah blah blah…” Exhausting. King has noted his detractors’ diagnosis of his condition as “diarrhea of the typewriter.” Now I understand what they mean. Look, all of these things are not equally important. They’re definitely not as important as telling a good story in an artful fashion. They leave you swiveling your head in all directions instead of staring straight across the desert with the gunslinger. We had four fucking books to learn all that shit and did just fine, thanks. The conviction that it’s all SO IMPORTANT that it just HAS to be in the FIRST CHAPTER of the FIRST BOOK? Vanity.

See, it’s not just his typewriter that has the green apple splatters; if it were, that might be forgivable. (Might–watching what he did to this chapter even from a purely stylistic perspective isn’t pretty.) It’s his imagination, an imagination that had conjured up an epic that was already pretty damn engaging, for crying (your pardon) out loud. Now you find that some of the most fundamental things you thought you knew about it are wrong, and that there are whole new things you need to learn and fit into what you already had internalized about it. Out of nowhere comes the number 19, and with it a new subplot in which the man in black (now outed as Walter from the get-go, and how the hell does that make sense?) uses it as a “don’t think about a blue polar bear”-type mental trap to goad the gunslinger’s lady friend Allie into unlocking the secrets of the afterlife and driving herself insane. Try to imagine if The Illuminatus! Trilogy had been more than half-completed and published before Robert Anton Wilson and Robert Shea went back and inserted the number 23 into the first part, then re-released it. Equally fundamental, I’m half-guessing half-sure, is this “Resumption” business that’s tagged onto the beginning of the book, and that dizzy sense Roland gets that the world momentarily blinked out of reality. If it was so vital to the entire enterprise, why wasn’t it there when Steve King As The Apotheosis Of All 19-Year-Olds wrote this fucking thing years ago? And since it wasn’t, may I submit that it shouldn’t have been jammed in there years later by the director of Maximum Overdrive?

Here, though, because I’m a fair guy, is the one part of the revisions I really liked. Not because of what it imports for the story, because like I said I think it’s cheating, but because it’s well-written and creepy. It’s the man in black Walter O’Dim’s farewell note to Allie.

Allie

You want to know about Death. I left him a word. That word is NINETEEN. If you say it to him his mind will be opened. He will tell you what lies beyond. He will tell you what he saw.

The word is NINETEEN.

Knowing will drive you mad.

But sooner or later you will ask.

You won’t be able to help yourself.

Have a nice day! 🙂

Walter O’Dim

P.S. The word is NINETEEN.

You will try to forget but sooner or later it will come out of your mouth like vomit.

NINETEEN.

“Sooner or later it will come out of your mouth like vomit.” That’s beautiful. I wish King had learned his own lesson.

Eli Roth might get his rocks off from literally torturing the audience but his chickenshit exploitation schlock knows not of such savagery.

Rob Humanick, unfavorably comparing Roth’s work to Sam Raimi’s Evil Dead. Once again, this is an unfair and inaccurate characterization of Hostel, and not just because it misuses the word “literally.” Here’s why it’s wrong. (Hostel: Part II I’ll give him.)

Here is the official official second trailer for I Am Legend. (The one I put up before is apparently the international trailer.) I like this one even better. If Will Smith spends this entire movie playing off only himself and his dog, thus forcing him to tone down the “oh HELL naw” posing, this could be a pretty fantastic little survival-horror movie. (Alright, maybe not “little.” But I think Dawn of the Dead and 28 Weeks Later and even Spielberg’s War of the Worlds proved that bigger can be better.)

(Via IGN, via BD.)

I think something is going to give very soon. I mean, when Fangoria, which is a magazine I’ve loved for many years now, on the cover–maybe in relation to “Hostel 2,” and I’m not sure–has the headline, “Has Horror Gone Too Far?” From Fangoria magazine? I mean this is–hello. This is outrageous, an outrageous thing for Fangoria to be asking. But I believe it’s asking for a legitimate reason because what I’m gonna call horror porn, which is what I think some of these torture pictures are, the “Hostels” for instance…And “Saw.” This is stuff which presents–you’re there to see one thing and one thing only, just as you are when you see a porn movie. Don’t tell me you’re there for the story, mate, ’cause I ain’t believing you. [Laughs.] My point is that the “Hostel” stories don’t begin until somebody has already been caught and tied up or whatever else. In even the Camp Crystal Lake adventures [the “Friday the 13th” movies], there was an element of excitement as to, is she gonna get away? Are they going out to the same woods to make love as the two who proceeded them? There was that tension. There’s something about the “Hostel” movies–I’ve only seen the first one, though I’ve seen it two or three times partly because I admired Roth from “Cabin Fever”–that I thought “Boy, is this a cynical exercise or is this somebody being very smart, or both? Or is it something where he’s just decided that this is the best way to scare people?”…And I found that I wasn’t scared so much, just slightly disgusted at myself. Now, that’s just me. Everybody makes their own judgments. But I think eventually people are going to say there just isn’t enough to hold me for 90 minutes to watch this. There isn’t enough humanity in it. Do you know what I mean?

–My hero Clive Barker, characterizing Hostel in a way that I don’t think is at all fair, in the latest installment of a truly epic interview with N’Gai Croal of Newsweek‘s video game blog Level Up. As you might have guessed from the venue it focuses primarily on Barker’s new game Jericho and his ongoing debate over the artistic merits of video games with Roger Ebert, but from there it branches out into pretty much every conceivable place it could go. It’s a must-read conversation with a guy who’s not just one of the best horror artists around, but also one of its best thinkers.

Part one

Part two

Part three

And there’s at least one more part in the offing, apparently.

(Via Ken Bromberg.)

PS: Click here to find out why Barker is wrong about Hostel.

Read: The Gunslinger (revised)–Introduction; Foreword

The new Introduction to this revised version of Book One is harmless enough. I’m glad he decided to finish the series and sorry it took a near-fatal car accident to make it happen. I’m glad he was once young dumb and full of the desire to mash up The Lord of the Rings and The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

The Foreword is where things get fishy. Here King explains why he’s revising The Gunslinger, and now it sounds worse to me than just a cheat–it sounds like a bad idea. He’s not revising this like he did The Stand, to add in material that was cut for logistical reasons. As I already knew, he’s revising it to bring it in line with the later volumes. In cases like the one he cites, where the name “Farson” is changed from referring to a town to referring to a guy, I’m fine with that. Like I’ve said before, even Tolkien had to rewrite the Ring chapters from The Hobbit. But if he’s adding 35 pages of story, he’s doing a lot more than that–he’s shoe-horning things in that weren’t there at all before, in erroneous form or otherwise. It’s already apparent that there’s now going to be a bunch of numerological stuff regarding the number 19, which irritates me because by this point he’d written and released four books, more than half the series, without so much as a peep about it. I’ve had certain information revealed to me regarding changes King makes in this revision to the way Roland’s quest progresses, which also seems like a pretty major overhaul. And surely (ha, I say this like I haven’t already flipped to the end to see what’s going on) there will be significant alterations to the man in black’s words and actions, to make his triune nature as Flagg/Walter/Marten more apparent when it wasn’t even conceived of as such when the book was first written. Put it all together and it feels like a cheat; at the very least it totally shifts the ground beneath long-time readers’ feet as they try to get a handle on what’s going on in the series.

But worst of all, he’s not just revising for information; he’s revising for style! He can explain it however he wants, but apparently he’s made the book’s prose sound more like something he’d write today. I’m sure even bigger King fans than myself would agree that’s not necessarily a good thing, especially when that original style, so different from anything else King had ever written, was what made the first version of The Gunslinger such a stand-out.

Sigh. Time to take my medicine, I guess.

For me, looking at this photo is like getting socked in the gut by my comics-reading past.

That’s Nick Bertozzi, Tom Devlin, Brian Ralph, Megan Kelso, Jordan Crane, and Paul Lyons, on their signing tour with the still incredible anthology Non #5. My copy, signed by all six, plus David Choe, Greg Cook, Dave Kiersh, James Kochalka, and Paul Pope, was the final brick in the edifice that built me up into a comics reader. (The others were The Dark Knight Returns in sixth grade, The Maxx and Sin City in high school, The Acme Novelty Library and Savage Dragon in college, and New X-Men and The Last Lonely Saturday in 2001.)

I think everyone in that picture is younger then than I am now.

(Via the must-read New Bodega blog.)

Back when Freddy vs. Jason came out, there was talk that Dimension was toying with the idea of a Pinhead vs. Michael Myers movie. What happened with that?

I had talked to Clive about it. My understanding was that Clive was going to write it and John Carpenter was going to direct it. It was the late [producer] Moustapha Akkad who decided he didn’t want the movie to be made. But it would’ve been interesting to find out how that would’ve worked. Pinhead likes a good conversation—and that’s a bit of a problem when it comes to Michael [laughs].

—Doug “Pinhead” Bradley, interviewed at Playboy.com

I did not know that!

Read the interview for Bradley’s thoughts on all things Hellraiser, from the comics to the upcoming remake. (Via Bloody Disgusting.)

The first official, you won’t get arrested for showing it to children trailer for Rambo (that’s what it’s called now).

The second official trailer for The Mist.

The second official trailer for I Am Legend.

I actually think the I Am Legend trailer is the best of the three.

All via AICN.