The Once Mighty Fall

Even though I own The Abandoned Video Shop I take no joy in the closure of the last Blockbuster stores. I passed  an empty one the other day and it was a sad sight. Going out to rent a title has now died and I'm surprised there is not a little bit more lamenting the loss. Remember back, when it was an exciting thing going to Blockbuster and seeing all those titles, all the new releases all lined up. OK, Blockbuster put an end to most of us little video shops, like the Internet has put pay to them. But going out and getting a film was an experience. Even when the one you wanted wasn't there, you wouldn't come away empty handed. Alright, you could get a stinker, but you could also discover a gem. We've all done that and revel in the joy of watching it again a few hours later. So what now? Download, order up, watch and you haven't even left the settee. Where's the fun in that, you haven't earned the film, you haven't gone and got that specific one, held it and felt a tinge of achievement. You haven't shown any enthusiasm or effort just pressed a few buttons. Then the film is served up like fast food. Something we have all done for the past thirty odd years, OK in diminishing numbers, has just died shouldn't we all feel just a little sadness?

The Owner 

What's A Video?!

I went to look in a few Charity Shops on Saturday, like most people do. And if it isn't old women behind the counter, it is usually a couple of gormless looking teenagers. No doubt getting some cushy work experience under their belts. Well that is what faced me in one charity shop.
"'Ere what's this," one of the idiot teenagers said holding up a video cassette.
"Dunno," his moronic mate replied. "Is it one of them vinyl LPs or something?"
With that the first teenager launched the video in the bin. I was shocked, like they had just thrown a bag of kittens into the river.
"That was a video!" I shouted.
They looked at me like a was an idiot or something.
"Do you know what people watched before videos?" I continued.
They shook their heads.
"Nothing. It was endless terrestrial dross. Then came video and everything changed."
They looked uncomfortable and even the smelly customer, which all Charity Shops have by law, left swiftly.
"A whole wonderful world of film opened up for everyone lucky enough to own a VHS and if it wasn't for that video cassette you just disrespected," I pointed at the spotty, gormless gitt. "The world would be a colder,sadder place. Everything your nasty generation holds dear is due to the video."
I stopped and proudly stood my ground.
"Get lost you nutter or we'll call the manager," the bigger of the two sneered.
"Yeah get lost grandad," the other piped up.
I wanted to say get the manager  but they looked feral enough not to need him.
"You can have this then," one shouted and threw the cassette at my head.
I looked at the video, on the ground, after it had bounced off my bonce, it was Rocky IV. I picked it up and dusted it down.
"Come on," I said to it. "You're going home."
And I took it back to the Abandoned Video Shop, here it now sits happily with the other two hundred and fifty copies we have of Rocky IV.
The Owner.

Strippers vs Werewolves : How Far Did You Get?

Mr. Apollyon brought  a massive box of videos into The Abandoned Video Shop this week.

"What are those?"Old Reg asked him.

"Strippers vs Werewolves," he replied.

"That sounds bleedin' good," Old Reg said excitedly. He likes werewolves and loves strippers so he was obviously enthusiastic.

"How did you get so many?" I asked Mr. Apollyon.

"Someone got me to invest in the film," he replied a scowl crossing his face.

"Did you make much money?" Old Reg asked.

"No."

"Bet you're not talking to that bloke anymore," Old Reg replied.

"No one is," Mr Apollyon said flatly

A shiver ran down my spine.

"Well enjoy," Mr. Apollyon said. "Or try to."

With that he left.

"Well stick it on," Old Reg said happiest I'd seen him for a while.

It didn't last long. Five minutes in and we both were very glad we wasn't the person who got Mr. Apollyon to invest.

"How many bleedin' people from Eastenders are in this crap?" Old Reg said all enthusiasm evaporated.

We turned it off after ten minutes shaking our head and looking at the big box of videos.

"I don't think anyone could've watched that to the end," I said.

"I still like strippers though," Old Reg said.

"I'm glad," I said. "Now let's go burn the rest of them in the backyard."

"Good bleedin' idea, at least they will keep the rats warm."

The Owner. 

Terrible Tales of the Under Basement 3

The door of the under basement was a jar and an eerie light was pulsing from it.

"I don't remember that door bein' open," Old Reg said.

"What from thirty years ago?" I replied as if he was the idiot he is.

"I've got a bad bleedin' feelin' about this," Old Reg said as we edged down the stairs.

The twins had obviously had a party in our absence and the under basement had been raided. Now we had to see what the damage was.

I gently pushed open the busted door and was bathed in a red light, it seemed to be coming from the row after row of neatly shelved video nasties.

"Bleedin' hell," Old Reg muttered beside me. "Look." 

Half a dozen teenagers were hanging from the wall, they were streaked with blood and emitting low, guttural moans. It looked like something out of a video nasty, which is quite apt I suppose. In the middle of the dirty floor the twins were trussed up like Christmas turkeys. Their eyes widened as they saw us. I suppressed the urge to say Serves you right.

Old Reg nudged me and I looked in the corner, there was Desmond, glowering and skeletal his red hair now wispy falling in a  matted comb over across his face.

"They tried to take the nasties," he said more to Reg than me. "They're all in order like you told me Reg."

I looked at Reg, I had no idea he'd told Desmond to do that all those years ago.

"Well done boy," Reg said weakly.

I gazed around at all the rat bones and carcases all over the place, that is obviously what Desmond had been living on. I always wondered why The Abandoned Video Shop didn't have a rat problem; now I knew.  

"They're bad, they'll pay." Desmond said motioning toward the strung up teenagers.

"I think they've paid enough," Old Reg said.

"No!" Desmond screamed, his voice banging off the walls and making his captives moan even more.

Desmond moved toward us slowly like he was enjoying seeing our terror. Old Reg let out a fear fart that added a new dimension to the smell of the under basement. Desmond edged closer and we couldn't move. His face was old and contorted, but I could still, just about, see the teenager in it.

"That'll do Desmond," a voice from behind me said.

I looked around to see Mr. Apollyon's smiling face.

"I have some dinner for you," he held up a bag of squirming, squeaking rats.

Desmond snatched the bag and retreated to the corner.

I looked at Mr. Apollyon in shock.

"Nice holiday?" he enquired.

"Very nice," Old Reg said.

"Good," he smiled. "Now let me deal with this little situation."

You didn't argue with Mr. Apollyon, unless you wanted a little situation of your own.

About half an hour later all the teenagers came up from the under basement, with Mr. Apollyon laughing and singing as if nothing had happened. Mr. Apollyon pushed the twins Leslie and Lesley toward me.

"I think you should deal with these two," he said. " A rap across the knuckles."

"And Desmond?" I asked.

"Back to work organising the nasties."

With that Mr. Apollyon left with the laughing teenagers.

"On the bright side," Old Reg said. "At least Desmond didn't ask for bleedin' back pay."

 

The Owner

 

Terrible Tales of the Under Basement Part 2

"I don't know why you keep them bleedin' twins," Old Reg banged on as we nervously descended the dark, clammy staircase to the under basement.

"Well," I mumbled not really knowing what to say next.

"I'll tell you who I liked," Old Reg said nearly losing his footing on the damp step. "Young Desmond, now that was a hard workin' Saturday boy, remember him?"

"Yes I said shining my torch toward the gloom.

"I'll never know why you got bleedin' sacked him."

"I didn't," I said recalling the spotty face and goofy grin of Desmond. "I thought you did."

"Me?" Old Reg replied stopping dead. " I liked him the silly lookin' sod."

"So if you didn't sack him and I didn't," I said my voice trailing off into the darkness.

"Then what bleedin' well happened to him?"

"When did you last see him?" I asked Old Reg, who let out a large fart that echoed and slid off the dank walls.

"Well that's funny 'cause it was when we were takin' all the video nasties down to the under basement. Then he came up with you."

"No he never," I said a chill edging down my back. "I thought he came up with you."

"No," Old Reg said. "That bleedin' means-"

"We locked Desmond in the under basement with the nasties."

"Nearly thirty bleedin' years ago."

"Then Desmond is the evil of the under basement," I said as we both gazed into the gloom with renewed terror.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

The Owner

Tales of the Under Basement Part One

 

When me and Old Reg got back to the Abandoned Video Shop from our holi-holiday in Eastbourne we both knew something wasn't quite right.

"I know a legal bleedin' high when I smell one," Old Reg said sniffing the air like a blood hound.

"They've had a bleedin' party here."

The they, he was referring to, was our Saturday help twins Lesley and Leslie; and I had to agree they had had a bleedin' party. Even though Lesley and Leslie had tried to hide it, the tell tale signs were all about. Me and Old Reg seldom indulge in Jager Bombs and laughing gas, so when we found lots of empty canisters behind the Charlie Sheen section my worst fears were confirmed.

"I said you should've  given them the bleedin' elbow ages ago," Old Reg said in his best I told you so voice.

Suddenly it hit me.

"You don't think they..." my voice trailed off as my guts hit spin cycle.

"Found the Nasties?" Old Reg said looking concerned, which is always a concern.

Video Nasties were a very big thing when we first opened our doors, real money spinners, and we had one of the greatest collections anywhere. All the gory, gruesome titles you could imagine. But when they were banned ( and all of ours were ) me and Old Reg couldn't stand to part with them so we took all the videos and put them in our under basement, that's the dark basement below our basement. And we left them, almost forgetting they existed. Until we started hearing noises from the under basement. Strange bangs, crashes and anguished cries.

"The nasties have melded together into pure evil," Old Reg deduced.

We informed Mr. Apollyon and he just smiled broadly and told us not to go near the under basement.

"If they've got in there," Old Reg said. "They could've let the bleedin' video nasty evil out." 

"We've got to look," I said rubbing my sore head and hoping this was a concussion induced dream like I'd had on holi-holiday.

"This ain't a dream," Old Reg said reading my mind. "And were off to the bleedin' under basement so tool up."

To Be Continued...

The Owner

Holi-Holiday ends...At Last

Eastbourne: Conclusion.

 

"But I thought you said it wasn't Billy Fury's metatarsal," I said still a little confused by Old Reg's sudden appearance.

"I lied, I've known what they've been up to from the start" he replied flatly.

"But," I tried to add something, but nothing came.

"Billy was a mate of mine and a bleedin' nice bloke and I'm not lettin' them do this."

"So how do we stop Billy Fury's resurrection?" I said uttering a sentence I never thought I'd hear myself say.

"We burn the bleedin' Bone Museum down," Old Reg smiled producing what looked like a Molotov cocktail.

"But Mr. Apollyon, Mrs Brannigan, and that other woman are in there," I said.

"They're all evil."

I couldn't argue with that.

We edged down the darkened alley, the shadows seeming to crawl all over us. Just as Old Reg was about to light the oil soaked rag, at the top of the bottle, Mr. Apollyon stood in front of us a look of pure rage etched into his face. At his feet was the weird white faced kid crouched.

"What are you idiots doing?" he said.

"I'm not lettin' you do that to Billy," Old Reg yelled.

"I've put a lot of money on with Paddy Power that Billy Fury will come back and win next year's Britain's Got Talent and you morons will not ruin that," Mr. Apollyon neatly explained.

With lightning speed Mr. Apoyllon leaped forward and snapped Old Reg's neck, his limp body flopping to the floor. The weird white faced kid yelped with joy and started to bite into Old Reg's leg. Then Mr. Apollyon came toward me, his eyes burning, blazing red.

"What about the Abandoned Video Shop,I squeaked. "Who'll run it with us dead?"

I felt his icy hands on my neck, gripping tighter and tighter.

"What is he talkin' about?" I heard a female voice say. "Billy Fury, video shops?"

"It's OK nurse," Old Reg replied. "He's a bleedin' idiot."

The swirling mists cleared.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"In hospital," Old Reg said. " You banged your head remember?"

"I had this dream," I mumbled. "It was all a dream."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah Dorothy," Old Reg said. "We'll be back at the Abandoned Video Shop by tonight."

"Thank God," I muttered then fell back into the swirling mists.

The Owner.

Bad Last Day of the Holi-Holiday

Eastbourne Thursday.

 

"I've had a bleedin' good time this week," Old Reg said to me as I nursed my sore head. "You can't beat these old Eastbourne birds."

"I thought we might do something together, seeing it's our last night here," I said sounding more than a little pathetic.

"Can't, I've got to meet up with-"

"I can guess," I said not wanting to hear any more.

"You're a youngish man," he said looking me up and down. " Get bleedin' out there, get-"

"Chlamydia?" I said sounding peevish, which I have a lot on this holiday.

"That was uncalled for," Old Reg said farting loudly then leaving.

He was right on a couple of scores. It was uncalled for and I was youngish; so I decided to hit Eastbourne on my last night in town.

I wandered into the centre, looking over my shoulder for the weird white faced kid. But thankfully he wasn't about. Preoccupied, I realised I'd wandered near the back alley where the Bone Museum was. I casually glanced down there and, to my shock, I saw Mr. Apollyon standing,  talking to the woman who works at the Museum. I held back and they didn't see me, but their conversation seemed heated and Mr. Apollyon grabbed her by the neck. At that moment Mrs Brannigan came out from the Bone Museum. To my even greater shock she was stark naked.

"Are we gonna do this?" she said holding up the two head shaped bags. " Or are you two going to keep farting about?"

With that they all went into the Museum.

"I think I know what they're bleedin' up to," Old Reg said standing at my shoulder and nearly making me jump out of my skin.

"What?" I asked still shaking.

"They're resurrecting Billy Fury and we've got to stop them," he said stern faced and for once not farting.

 

To Be Continued...

Eastbourne Wednesday.

 

"You're a bleedin' coward," Old Reg said for the thousandth time, referring to the fact I didn't open the head shaped bag yesterday instead gave it to an eager, grinning Mrs Brannigan.

"So what shall we do today?" I asked.

"Well I'm meetin' the old bird I got together with last night," Old Reg said, his leering face making me shiver. "Then we're goin' to see Rush."

"Oh," I said a little crestfallen.

"I knew James Hunt, we had some bleedin' laughs over the  years."

"Perhaps you're in it," I said a little too peevishly. "Played by George Clooney."

With that Old Reg farted loudly leaving the room smelling like an abattoir in a power cut.

I decided to look in the charity shops, of which there are plenty in Eastbourne. I like to see what videos people get rid of. Who knows, as unlikely as it may seem, there might be one we haven't got in the Abandoned Video Shop. As I wandered the sparsely populated High Street, I caught sight of  something in the shadows; it was the weird white faced kid, he was skulking a little behind me. When I stopped, so did he. It felt like that bit in Jurassic Park when Bob Peck says " We're being hunted." I felt icy sweat rolling down my back as I went from charity shop to charity shop. And he was always just in the corner of my eye; I could almost feel his nasty breath and snake eyes creeping over my skin. A mad panic engulfed me and I ran right into a hording advertising Rush. Next thing I knew I woke up in hospital with Old Reg standing over me saying: "Well you sodded up my bleedin' day." I wasn't really enjoying this holiday.

To Be Continued...

The Owner

Holi- Holiday Diary .: What we did at the Bone Museum

 

Eastbourne Tuesday

"Perhaps it was a bleedin' rat," Old Reg said when I told him about the scratching at the door last night.

"It was talking," I replied.

"Perhaps it was Roland Rat."

I didn't bother telling Old Reg about seeing Mrs Brannigan on the pier, because he launched into a tawdry story of his antics the previous night that made a mad woman conducting demon birds seem like an episode of the Telly Tubbies.

"So what we bleedin' well doin' today?" Old Reg said after his nasty story was, thankfully, concluded.

I shrugged.

"I picked this leaflet up downstairs," he said handing it to me.

"The Eastbourne Bone Museum?" I said unable to keep the shock out of my voice. "I'm not sure I want to walk around a bone museum."

"Well I do have a couple of phone numbers from ladies I met last night," Old Reg smiled. "Perhaps we could-"

"The bone museum it is then!"

The bone museum was hard to find, but eventually we discovered it down a back road off a back road. It looked like one of those shops from a horror anthology, I almost expected Peter Cushing to greet us.

"Hello," the woman behind the counter said cheerily. "Have you come to see our new exhibition?"

"I sincerely doubt it," Old Reg said being his usual rude self.

"It's Dog Bones of the World," she said sounding like we would be mad to miss it.

"That seems interesting," I lied.

"What's that bleedin smell?" Old Reg asked her.

"Bones," she smiled.

The Bone Museum was pretty dull, as Old Reg said : "If you've seen one bleedin' bone you've seen 'em all." and he was right. But they did have a celebrity section, which included Billy Fury's metatarsal.

"That's not Billy Fury's metatarsal," Old Reg said firmly. "I'd know Billy's metatarsal anywhere."

As we left thoroughly bored the woman behind the counter stopped us.

"Could you give this  to Mrs Brannigan," she said handing us a head shaped bag much like the one we had given her yesterday from Mr. Apollyon.

"Of course," I said hiding my shock and curiosity; the woman didn't look like the type to answer questions.

"Shall we look in it?" Old Reg said when we were a fair distance from the bone museum.

"I-I don't know," I replied.

"Let's bleedin' well look."

 

TO BE CONTINUED... 

The Owner

Holi- Holiday Diary

EASTBOURNE MONDAY :

"I know exactly what to do with that," Mrs Brannigan smiled as I gave her the head shaped bag from Mr Apollyon.

Me and Old Reg just looked at each other. Mrs Brannigan was a jovial, red faced woman, but there was an edge to her that I could never quite make out. At her feet, as usual, sat the weird white faced boy. We have been coming here for a fair few years and the kid never seems to age, he just looked at you like he was wondering how you'd taste with chips.

"You two are in room 15 as always," Mrs Brannigan smiled.

"There's only 14 bleedin' rooms," Old Reg said being his usual stroppy self. "And we're always in 15, why's that?"

"You know what curiosity did to the cat," Mrs Brannigan grinned as if to end the conversation. Which it did.

The rooms at the boarding house are pretty basic and that's selling them short. Or as Old Rag always says: "This bleedin' place reminds me of The Scrubs in the 50's". 

Later I watched Old Reg get ready to go out, all suited and booted and wearing aftershave that smelt like Brimstone for Men. He liked to hit the town first night.

"Feeling lucky?" I asked him.

"Luck don't come in to it.I'll tell you what, to these old birds of Eastbourne, I'm George bleedin' Clooney." Old Reg said straightening his tie and letting rip with a loud fart.

"Knock 'em dead George," I said as he left  the room leaving  a combination of Brimstone for Men and rotten eggs behind him.  

I decided to go for a little evening stroll myself. As I wandered along Eastbourne pier, remembering it was used in that God awful Brighton Rock remake,I caught sight of Mrs Brannigan tipping something into the sea below. I kept my distance and as she continued large black birds started swarming around her. They certainly weren't gulls and too big for ravens, what the bloody hell were they? She waved her arms around, like she was conducting them and they swayed and weaved in time with her movements; then she started laughing like a loon so I edged away, in case she turned around. 

I went back to my room unnerved, to say the least. I must've fallen asleep because I woke up to what sounded like scratching and whispering at my door. Old Reg hadn't come back, so he must've got lucky. Was that my name that was being said?

TO BE CONTINUED

The Owner.

Bates Motel: Psycho 90210

After the success of Hannibal, Norman Bates is the next iconic serial killer to get  a TV refit, re imagining (add your own re here) with Bates Motel. 

Set in the present day, no doubt budgetary concerns stopped it being set in the late 40's early 50's, we meet Norman (Freddie Highmore) and mother Norma (Vera Farmiga) as they discover Mr. Bates dead of an apparent accident, but seeing we know the family history I get the feeling that might be called into question later in the season. 

Well to get away mad mother and son buy, yep you guessed it, a run down motel. And here's where the show really started to kick in, just one look at that iconic house and all the visions of Hitchcock's Psycho come flooding back. And everything is beautifully recreated just how we know and love it.

 Norman soon falls in with the local college kids, ending up at a party which seems to be held by someone who looks like a renegade from Twilight. So the show takes on a kind of Psycho 90210 vibe. 

But that is not to say Bates Motel is not dark and gory, there was a very disturbing scene and some neat, tension filled twists. 

All in all it was a strong opening episode; the ever reliable Vera Farmiga was good as Norma and Freddie Highmore looked and sounded  convincing as the young Norman. 

But you have to wonder which horror icon is next for a TV make-over, will we be getting Freddy Krueger- The Janitor Years? Come to think of it I'd watch that.

The Owner.

Holi- Holi-day

"It's that time of year again," Mr. Apollyon announced as he walked into the Abandoned Video Shop.

Old Reg grumbled under his voice, and plonked himself down in his chair, because he knew what was coming.

"Time for your free holiday gentlemen," Mr. Apollyon smiled.
 "I know Mrs. Brannigan is looking forward to seeing you both at the boarding house,"

"Yes, and Eastbourne is so nice in Autumn," I said trying to sound enthusiastic.

"What's that smell?" Old Reg asked.

"It's probably my new aftershave," Mr. Apollyon replied. " It's Brimstone For Men."

"Bleedin' hell does that mean there's a Brimstone For Women," Old Reg said.

I looked at Mr. Apollyon apprehensively, but he let the comment slide. I noticed he does that a lot with Old Reg.

"Will your Saturday twins be going this year?" Mr. Apollyon asked, meaning Leslie and Lesley.

"I'm afraid not," I said perhaps a little too sheepishly.

"No they said they'd rather have needles in their bleedin' eyes," Old Reg chipped in.

"That can be arranged," Mr. Apollyon said flatly.

There was a razor silence.

"I've sorted out all your travel, as usual," Mr. Apollyon smiled. "So have a good time."

We waited, because we knew what was coming next.

"Oh yes and give this to Mrs Brannigan," Mr. Apollyon added handing me the familiar head shaped bag. "So I'll see you gentlemen when you return, I know you'll have a great time."

With that Mr. Apollyon left.

"Brilliant," Old Reg mumbled. "Another bleedin' holiday at the Bates Motel."

"Oh no it will be nice," I said trying to sound enthusiastic but falling flat.

We both looked at the head shaped bag, every year we have to deliver it to Mrs Brannigan.

"One time we'll look in that bleedin' bag," Old Reg said.

"We do and the next year we'll be in it," I said.

"Oh well, I s'pose I'd better get bleedin' well packed," Old Reg said getting up and farting loudly.

TO BE CONTINUED...

The Owner 

Community

                                                        

I was looking forward to the Horror Channel's premiere of British chiller Community, it sounded like it could have a good dash of Eden Lake mixed in with  more than a little The Hills Have Eyes, but sadly it really fell flat in most all departments.

Isabelle (Jemma Dallender) and Will (Elliott Jordan) venture on to the run down (that's putting it mildly) Draymen Estate to make a student film on urban deprivation, or something like that. Immediately they are confronted by some very eerie looking kids who are busy torturing and killing animals. How else do you fill your time on derelict estates? But that is nothing compared to the grunting youths, who give us their best impressions of the Dawn of Man segment from 2001 and their plainly super psychotic parents. But Isabelle has an alternative reason for her venture into the Draymen, she is being blackmailed to search out the Estate's hyper addictive weed crop. Our duo soon fall foul of the residents and their uber creepy leader Auntie ( Paul McNeilly). 

With Community all the ingredients are there for a rattling good scare fest, but writer, director Jason Ford fails to deliver.

We don't get to know Isabelle and Will before they enter the Draymen, plus they are not really the most sympathetic of characters. Just because Isabelle is being blackmailed doesn't mean we should automatically feel sorry for her. Jason Ford should have watched Eden Lake, at least, another fifty times before embarking on this project.

 The pace of the film flags dreadfully at times, I've never been so glad to see an advert break.With the possible exception of Auntie, none of the characters are that interesting, or desperately frightening. This is one Community that needed a little more care.

The Owner

Old Reg and The King

I'm starting to think Old Reg knew Elvis. It's only that when he is asleep Old Reg does two things farts and mumbles about Elvis. But it is as if he is speaking to him. 

He says things like "Yo Elvis is it alright if I take the Cadillac tonight?" and "I thought I was singing back up on Polk Salad Annie."

OK, these might be the ramblings of a boarder line senile old man, but if I mention Elvis to him, Old Reg clams up and tries to change the subject. I did catch him once watching Harum Scarum with the biggest smile on his face, but when I walked in he turned it off. Was Old Reg in it? I'm starting to think he might've been the only Brit in the Memphis Mafia. But, as I've said, I know nothing of his background, Old Reg came with the shop when I took it over. Previously it was an undertakers and as the man who sold me the shop said: "People need videos more than they need coffins these days apparently." And, for a while I agreed with him as I couldn't cope with the demand. But, now I'm starting to doubt his words. 

Anyway, Old Reg was just sitting there the day I moved everything in and he has been here ever since. So it's quite possible Old Reg lived in Graceland and knew the King. One of these days I'll have to watch Harum Scarum, just to see why Old Reg looked so happy.

The Owner

Sinister: Good and Creepy

Mr. Apollyon visited us yesterday at The Abandoned Video Shop, if you have forgotten he is the mysterious man who gets us all the new releases on video. He gave us a copy of Sinister saying: "Watch this with the lights off."

To which Old Reg replied: "The lights are always bleedin' off here."

Anyway we did what Mr. Apollyon said, it's always best to do what Mr. Apollyon says, and watched Sinister in darkness. I phoned up the Saturday help, twins Leslie and Lesley to see if they wanted to watch it but they said it was on Netflix, I said OK, making out I knew what that was and I'd see one, or other of them on Saturday.

"Sod 'em," Old Reg said getting impatient. "And fire up the Wharfdale."

Sinister was a good, creepy watch but as Old Reg said "Even bleeding Dumbo would be creepy in this bleep, bleeping shop."

Ethan Hawke plays Ellison Oswalt, a down on his luck true crime writer who moves his family into a house where the previous owners were all hanged in the back garden, well all except for the youngest child who has gone missing. So Ellison feels this will be subject matter of the book that will return him to former glories. In the loft he finds a box of old Super 8 home movies that sends him deeper into the mystery and horror. Sinister is very much in Stephen King territory, but director Scott Derrickson, who was also co-writer along with C. Robert Cargill, keeps the tension levels up with lots of good jumps. Old Reg tutted every time I jolted from my seat. Ethan Hawke holds the film together well, with a conviction that carries us with him. The main villain Bughuul is quite scary, as Old Reg said: "He looks like me after a night on the beer." And I had to agree, but if anything Old Reg looks worse. E

ven if it does stick to the tried and trusted horror traditions, Sinister is a good creepy watch.

The Owner

The Molly Ringwald Problem: The Conclusion

"Go check the Ally Sheedy section," I said with some alarm. "Now."

"You don't think?" Lesley said trying to hide the trembling in her voice.

"I do," I replied.

"Dear God," Lesley shouted in fear. "He's back!"

We rushed to the Ally Sheedy section.

"Blue City is gone," I said, looking at the gap in the shelf, beads of sweat popping on my forehead.

"And Heart of Dixie as well," Lesley mumbled, her eyes flitting like a trapped moth.

"He's going for the Anthony Michael Hall's," I said with more than a little urgency. "it's closest to where got in."

"Let's go then," Lesley said getting her second wind.

We swiftly weaved through the isles; we smelt him before we saw him. The stench of stale fryer fat unmistakable, Lesley looked at me wearily.

"Put the Weird Science down Costas," I said gently.

Costas looked up at us his alabaster skin almost translucent, his red eyes pleading. He had owned the cafe next door and, like us, stayed on when it all closed down. But, unlike us, the solitude and failure had sent him mad. Every now and then he would break in.

"Breakfast?" he rasped, his voice ragged, nothing like it used to be. 

"Two number fours please," I said.

Costas stood up, he was naked except for his heavily stained apron.

"Two number fours it is," he replied scratching the order on his pale skin with his jagged finger nail.

Lesley gasped slightly and I gripped her arm.

Costas jumped through the hole in the wall to get us our make belive breakfasts. 

We quickly started filling it in and dragging the shelves of videos in front of it.

"That should keep him out for a while," I said.

"What was he like before?" Lesley asked.

"He was a great cook," I replied. Getting a little lost in memory of when Costas's Cafe was as thriving as the video shop. "They were good times."

We looked at the massive pile of videos Costas had left.

"Those Betsy's Wedding's are not going to file themselves," Lesley said.

"You take Molly Ringwald and I'll take the Ally Sheedy's," I smiled.

Hannibal- A Real Feast

If the real world was as intense and nasty as it is portrayed in Hannibal, there would only be about five people left on Earth. But that was half the fun of the programme, which has just ended its first season on Sky Living. I sat and wondered how deep, dark and surly could it get before someone lightened the tone, except no one did it just got deeper, darker and surlier. I suppose the key to the show was that Jack Crawford line from The Silence of the Lambs:

"Believe me you don't want Hannibal Lecter inside your head."

Because that is something that is never fully explored in the films, but here, in the series, we saw exactly what happens and poor old Will Graham  copped it full force.

The real joy of Hannibal was the tense,triangular interplay between the good doctor, Jack Crawford and Will Graham. All three were  brilliantly played by Lawrence Fishburne as Crawford, Hugh Dancy as Graham and especially Mads Mikkelsen as Hannibal, he really inhabited the role, and as for that creepy sniffing.

OK, the peripheral stories were a bit hard to take at times, with serial killers so inventive they made Jigsaw look like a five year old with Lego. Were we really supposed to believe an ailing Lance Henriksen constructed a totem pole of bodies that a team of labourers would struggle to erect. But that is a small quibble for all the dark goings on and outlandish meals that were served up during the show. Even the most iron stomached amongst us, must have felt a few twinges at times as guests sat down to Hannibal's gourmet feasts.

But (kind of) creator Bryan Fuller should be congratulated for not flinching and I am certainly looking forward to the second course when it arrives.

The Owner.

The Molly Ringwald Problem

We have had a bit of trouble at The Abandoned Video Shop this week. It started when Saturday help Lesley, her twin Leslie was in the week before, I think. Anyway, Lesley came over and said: "There's something odd in the Molly Ringwald section."

Now as you all know Molly Ringwald was a video queen, so you can imagine how extensive our Molly Ringwald section is.

"Molly who?" Old Reg shouted waking up and farting.

"Tell me," I said earnestly. 

"All the Betsy's Wedding's have gone missing," Lesley replied evidently in shock.

I looked around at Old Reg in amazement, but he had fallen back asleep.

"Let's go investigate," I said to Lesley putting on my best brave face.

We went over to the Molly Ringwald section via a short cut through the Judd Nelson's, then a sharp left along the Rob Lowe's.

"There," Lesley proclaimed pointing at the empty space where thirty copies of Betsy's Wedding should have been. "What did I tell you."

I looked around, Sixteen Candles and Pretty In Pink were exactly where they should be but no Betsy's Wedding.

There was a crashing sound somewhere off to our right.

"Go check the Ally Sheedy section," I said with some alarm. "Now."

"You don't think?" Lesley said trying to hide the trembling in her voice.

"I do," I replied.

"Dear God," Lesley shouted in fear. "He's back!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

Under the Dome

I live in fear of Lost.

Every new show that comes along, with even the remotest element of mystery, I think to myself "Oh God no, not another Lost."

So it was with great trepidation I approached Under The Dome. OK, it's based on a Stephen King novel, so we are on a firm footing.But that won't help us when we are in season three and all of King's brilliance has been used up and the producers feel the urge to push the Lost button and unleash torrents of tosh upon us.

The premise of Under The Dome is pretty simple; the inhabitants of the small town of Chester's Mill are cut off from the rest of the world by a large, seemingly impregnable, transparent dome. It happens. Where did it come from and why Chester's Mill are the questions for later episodes as the diverse characters rush around in stricken panic. The show has a large cast and it will take a few episodes to get used to them all. Under The Dome certainly isn't a star vehicle, the closest the show comes to stars are Dean Norris ( Hank from Breaking Bad ) and Lost reminder and straight to video superstar Jeff Fahey. The budget for the pilot seemed to go on the CGI, trucks and planes squishing into the dome and a cow cut so perfectly in half that Damien Hirst must've screamed with envy.

This is obviously too close to Lost for JJ Abrams, so that other perennial executive producer Steven Spielberg is left to do the honours.

His agent must say: "Hey Steve do you wanna be executive producer of something called Under the Dome?"

"Yeah why not."

The pilot was intriguing, well acted, and made me want to see what happens next, which is exactly how I felt after the first episode of Lost. It is all about how well Under The Dome can keep the levels of old tosh under control as the seasons roll by.

The Owner

The Steven Seagal Festival.

Yep, as you'd expect it was another quiet week in the Abandoned Video Shop. We had a little trouble with some teenagers trying to break in with their legal highs Friday night, but we sorted that out quick smart. As Old Reg said "I didn't have legal highs when I was young, I had the war." I'm not too sure what he was getting at, so I left it at that.

As a weekend  treat I thought we would have a Steven Seagal Festival. We are an abandoned video shop, so it's not like we are short of his films around here.

"Is he the little one who does the beer ads?" Saturday help Leslie asked. I didn't even bother replying to that. Old Reg moaned as I wandered in with an armful of videos, I got the feeling only I considered Steven Seagal a treat. Perhaps I made a mistake kicking off the festival with Hard To Kill, which I rightly described in my, perhaps over lengthy, introduction as 'the pony tail classic.' Sadly Leslie mistook this action masterpiece for a spoof and laughed long and hard through Steven's pained coma scenes and even harder at his beard. Old Reg perked up when Kelly Le Brock entered the fray. "That's her from The whatever in whatever," he shouted. "I love her hair, you don't see hair like that anymore." With that he nodded back off.

I followed Hard To Kill with the cracking thriller Marked For Death, but Leslie had wandered away to alphabetise the Andrew McCarthy section and Old Reg was farting loudly in his sleep. I didn't even have the enthusiasm to do my insightful introduction to the classic Under Siege. To top it all my Wharfdale chewed up the cassette. Thankfully we have another twenty five copies. Sadly, I'm not sure I'll be doing another Steven Seagal Festival.

So as you can see another quiet week in The Abandoned Video Shop.

The Owner.