Monday Morning Movie Review: Deathdream (1974)

A common thread among horror aficionados is seeing some horror flick at an age that is far too young.  Maybe it was a whole movie, or maybe just snippets and scenes, but the movie terrifies and fascinates, leaving in indelible imprint on the impressionable young mind.

Often, we don’t even know the name of the film that affected us so.  If we’re lucky, we might stumble upon it years later, and go back to that time when we experienced horror for the first (or one of the first) time(s).

There were several such moments for yours portly.  Growing up with a Stephen King- and Halloween-loving mom, two that immediately come to mind are the It (1990) miniseries and the Salem’s Lot (1979) miniseries.  That little boy vampire scratching at the window still frightens me.

Another possible film is Deathdream (1974).  I’m not 100% sure if Deathdream is the movie I saw as a kid, but I remember seeing a flick as a kid that featured a deceased son who came back from the dead and was utterly soulless.  I think the film I saw was made a bit later, but Deathdream sucked me in because it seemed so familiar.  The soulless Andy—who is killed in the Vietnam War—is truly haunting.

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A Quick Update

Yours portly is still playing catchup after a long week at work.  My apologies to subscribers for not delivering a SubscribeStar Saturday today.

Instead, here’s a quick update:

  • The school play was quite successful.  I had to stay afterwards to teardown equipment and store everything away in preparation for a large fundraiser at school.
  • The fundraiser, our annual Gala, is a silent and live auction.  It’s tonight, and I will be announcing each of the live auction items—literally just reading the descriptions from the program aloud before the auctioneer does his thing.
  • I’m celebrating my Mom and my younger brother’s birthdays tomorrow.
  • Monday I’ll be setting up for the big Spring Concert, which is Tuesday.
  • I’ve spent this morning cleaning up the house and trying to get things looking presentable.  I’ve also been running laundry nonstop.  My sheets desperately needed cleaning after a week of sickly, sweaty sleep.

That’s it for now, dear readers.  Normal programming should resume tomorrow.

Warmest Regards,

TPP

Nothing New

Hi Readers,

It’s the busiest season of the school year for yours portly.  We finished up the big spring musical last night, and my school’s annual gala fundraiser is tomorrow.  Next Tuesday is my students’ Spring Concert.

Naturally, your chubby host is run ragged.  I’ve been running a low-grade fever this week on top of putting in twelve-to-fifteen-hour days.  Before you say, “kick your feet up, Port!  You need to learn to relax,” note that I have had to put in these many hours.  It’s not optional extra work.

See y’all soon,

TPP

TBT: Napoleonic Christmas

Somehow, I’d never reblogged this classic TPP post until this summer, when I did a retrospective look back at TPP’s Greatest Hits; “Napoleonic Christmas” came in as “Track III” on that list.  This post got picked up by a conservative news aggregator back in 2019, which caused its views to skyrocket.

I have always possessed a certain fascination with France and the French, and Napoleon is easily the most fascinating Frenchman of all.  That’s somewhat ironic considering he was a Corsican, from an island that belonged to an Italian city-state until said city-state needed to settle some debts with France and handed over the island in lieu of payment.  The Bonaparte family was from a line of minor Italian nobility, and were fiercely in favor of Corsican independence.

Funny how that works:  an Italian from a nationalistic Corsican family became the greatest political and military figure in modern French history.  We can never know what might become of a life.

As I’ve learned more about Napoleon, I disagree more with Andrew Roberts’s assessment of Napoleon in the linked video.  While Napoleon may have been responding to declarations of war by going on the offensive, he also had clear designs to stretch his influence all the way to India.  Indeed, he sought to emulate his hero, Alexander the Great.  The French also mercilessly plundered the cultural and artistic heritage of Italy in the process.

Regardless, Napoleon is a fascinating and complicated figure, and if he doesn’t earn our admiration, he certainly earned our grudging respect.

With that, here is 23 December 2019’s “Napoleonic Christmas“:

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TBT^2: Fighting Back Against Critical Race Theory

Apologies for the delay, folks; I had this post scheduled for PM instead of AM. Oops! —TPP

For all the insufferableness of “Pride” and its gyrating acolytes, America’s original pagan deity was, and will always be, race.  There will come a time—and it’s already manifesting—when Americans will turn on LGBTQIA2+etc. movements with a vengeance.  At a certain point, there’s only so much pederasty a people can take.

But race is a far more intractable problem.  It is the dark (no pun intended) elder god come back to wreak havoc on Americans.  In exchange for cheap cotton and cloth in the 1800s, we now pay a thousand invisible taxes in tribute to appease this insatiable monster.

Gavin McInnes argues that we’re living in a “black theocracy,” at least in a cultural sense.  The gatekeepers of popular culture can’t seem to resist recasting traditionally European characters—like Anne Boleyn!—as ebony goddesses who somehow held twenty-first-century sensibilities in Tudor England.  We’ve all seen the endless television commercials that seem suspiciously absent of anyone with a drop of European ancestry.

Contrast that with Night of the Living Dead (1968).  The main character in that film, Ben, is played by Duane Jones, a black actor and university professor.  George Romero cast Jones for the part not because he was trying to “make history” (although in 1968 it actually was rare and controversial to cast a black man as the lead in a film), but because Jones was simply the best man for the job.  Jones himself backs up this assertion—it was never about race; he’s just a great actor.

I remember seeing Night of the Living Dead sometime in high school.  It was one of the most powerful films I’d seen up to that point in my life—terrifying, yes, but also dramatic, with such a disastrous (in a good way) ending.  I was on the edge of my seat.  Not once did I think, “oh, man, they cast a black dude for diversity points.”  I’m sure I recognized that Jones was black, but it did nothing to enhance or detract from the story—he simply was; in this case, he was Ben  He was perfect for that role.

Interesting and original black characters are great.  Black Panther (2018) was way overrated, but it wasn’t terrible; the late Chadwick Boseman was impressive in the title role.  Miles Morales in Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse (2018) was a clever way to introduce an “ethnic” variant on Spider-Man that didn’t simply steal an existing intellectual property.  Who else but Sidney Poitier could pull off Mark Thackeray in To Sir, with Love (1967)?

The examples are endless.  It’s possible to write compelling black characters without turning (to use the most recent outrage) Ariel into a washed-out black girl with eyes on either side of her head.

But who am I?  I’m an evil, white, cisgender man.  Let this articulate black gentleman explain it:

I’ll stop here before I end up in the breadline.

With that, here is 23 June 2022’s “TBT: Fighting Back Against Critical Race Theory“:

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Open Mic Adventures XXIX: “Lavender’s Blue”

I’m diving back into Alfred’s Basic Piano Library, Complete Levels 2 & 3 for the Late Beginner this week with the piece “Lavender’s Blue.”

As I explain in the video, I knew very little about the song, other than it has a kind of Renaissance feel to it.  Since making that hasty recording during a precious planning period, I have done a bit more research on the piece.

The piece dates back to sixteenth-century England, where it was a popular folk song and nursery rhyme.  The lyrics suggest the nursery rhyme elements:

Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, lavender’s green,

When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen:

Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so?

‘Twas mine own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so.

Any tune with “dilly dilly” in the lyrics is prime nursery rhyming.  As is frequently the case with these very old songs, the piece has dozens have verses, and variations upon those verses, so there’s not an “official” version—kind of like Blade Runner (1982).

Fortunately, I’m just playing it on piano, so there’s no confusion there.

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