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 I’d always planned to talk about this movie. Jim can verify this. When I sent him a list of proposed subjects for this column, I’m pretty sure this movie was on the first page. But I’m not going to lie to you, I wasn’t in any hurry. This one profoundly bothered me. Anyhow. I figured there was no hurry. Would that I’d been right about that. Do yourself a favour, I beg ya - if there’s some creative force in your life, some actor or director or writer or singer that means something to you, speak out on it while they’re still drawing breath. Regret being a gushing idiot. It’s better than the alternative.
Guilty confession time - I’m actually kind of a wimp when it comes to horror movies. I like the idea of extreme and exploitation cinema, but actually watching it? Not so much. For some reason, for all that I could watch Die Hard or Robocop from now until the end of time, depictions of violence that seem more realistic turn my stomach. In fact, they turn my mind. Some internal part pulls away, horrified, sickened. Actually, now I think about it, Robocop is the first movie that I can remember making me feel that way - Murphy’s execution is bloody, sustained, and brutal, not to mention cruel and sadistic. It still provokes a physical response from me when I see it now, some 70+ viewings in: increased heart rate, a feeling like my throat has swollen just a little, a prickle of fear sweat. It’s fucking horrible, not to put too fine a point on it.
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