Oh-So Helpful Ghost Films

I have had it up to my nearly decomposed eye-balls with the oh-so friendly ghost films that Hollywood continues to throw down our churning gullets. I am sickened, bored, disgusted, upset, and feeling like I may have just ruptured some internal organ that has a really long name.

You know what I’m talking about right? How could you not.

I’m talking about those films centred around people that have come back to life, or appearing as life-like (or at least animated) and they have a bit of a chat to real, living humans about how they were murdered or some wrong was done to them. Then it’s up to the hapless human to try and solve the mystery of the apparition’s death or mistreatment. But in order to do this, the apparition will scare humans, often cause them harm, and often appear in really horrific situations.

A regular Hollywood ghost film (and there are dozens) will go like this:

Scene 1: Introduction to hero and heroine of film. It is this scenes’ intent for us to have a bit of empathy for them – many modern horror films fail right here.

Scene 2: Main characters get scared half to death by something ghoulish. (Think blood coming out of taps, cockroaches coming from a dead uncle’s lips, the appearance of a clearly dead character prancing about like a lunatic, talking toilets, rattling of chains, horses getting scared in barns, an appearance of Angela Bishop etc. You get the picture).

Scene 3: Main characters are so freaked out they get all irrational – maybe one of them is killed by their own stupidity, or kills someone else.

Scene 4: A clue gets spotted that links the apparition and all ghostly activity to a missing person, a death, a suicide, or something that seems a bit out of the blue.

Scene 5: Main characters start to follow clues, taking it upon themselves to look into the mystery presented to them, still scared half to death by the freakish behaviour happening around them. One or two people will probably die in this scene – it’s a given.

Scene 6: The stupid ghost or apparition thing will start getting impatient that the main characters are taking so long and start to amp up the scares a little. A horse’s head might be thrown at them or more insects might emerge from human crevices. Main characters will learn the key to the mystery (discover a murder, find a body, etc) and be intent on justice.

Scene 7: Justice is served (by way of the perpetrator being killed mostly) and the ghost that had been terrorizing the main characters and the rest of the town will slink back to the underworld, happy that its mission is complete.

Scene 8: Main characters go back to normal life and the end of the film will often show a reappearance of the original apparition, or something similar, jumping out or lurking behind an abandoned toilet block. This is to scare us into thinking that the ghost never really leaves and to keep us shaking in our boots as we switch off the telle and clamber into bed, twitching at even the slightest noise of trees brushing against the side of the house.

Now I have simplified the plot of a couple of the films I am lumping into this category but I make no apologies for that. Simply because I am sick of these films being fed to us on a regular basis that follow that basic plot and then churned out over and over again. This was brought to a culmination last night when I saw the film “Shallow Ground”. Apart from being one of the most poorly acted, poorly shot, poorly everything films I have ever sat threw, the worst insult was the retelling of the overused narrative outlined above. I felt insulted that I was meant to sit there not knowing what would happen next.

But most of all, I am sick of ghosts appearing to characters in films and making humans do their dirty work – tracking down their killer/s or uncovering clues. If they did it in a nice friendly way, I wouldn’t mind. But why do they need to scare people into doing it? Are we expected at the end of the film to say “Oh, they weren’t really bad ghosts…they just wanted justice to be served”. We all want justice to be served but the difference is humans don’t go around freaking out other people – we take it to the courts. No damned empathy from me for these tormented souls.

Come on people, think about it! The earliest film I can think of where this justice desiring ghost plot is wheeled out is the classic 1990 film “Ghost” (yes I’m a fan – rack off!). The difference in this film is that Swayze doesn’t need to scare his wife to have justice served (Whoopi got a little wind up her skirt but she deserved that) and only the “evil work buddy” got annoyed – as it SHOULD be. Think of all the other films though where the scare tactics are employed religiously:

- ‘The Sixth Sense’ (to a lesser extent) whereby that poor little kid is the one being scared half to death by justice desiring ghosts

- ‘The Ring’

- ‘The Grudge’

- ‘Shallow Ground’

-  ‘ Shutter’

-  ‘Dark Water’

-  ‘What Lies Beneath’

-  ‘The Skeleton Key’

-  ‘Gothika’

-  ‘Mirrors’

I’ll end by saying Horror films need not have redeeming elements of evil. Evil should be a huge element that goes unexplained and not something out to serve justice. Say no to redeeming elements of evil.

-Mason Hell-Cat

The Taxi Mafia

I have sat in silence for too long. I have ignored the heart palpitations, the high blood pressure, and the severe case of anxiety. It’s time for me to speak out. Time for us all to speak out. Time for us to stand up, demand to be counted, and demand to be shown some damned respect. For far too long taxi drivers in Australia have had the monopoly on a market that deserves to be overthrown.

Let me begin by outlining the responsibilities of a taxi driver:

> pick up passengers and take them to a desired location

That’s it. Simple. However some of them (and I say some though I suspect and point my damned finger at every damned one of them), seem to forget the first part of that directive: “pick up passengers”. I have lost track of the amount of times I have waited on the side of a road and waved furiously at taxis (with their lights on – which in this country indicates they don’t have any passengers) and they have either not stopped, or pulled over, asked where I’m off to and then sped off! Sorry am I missing something here? You, Mr Taxi Driver man don’t have the option of being picky. Your job is to stop and pick up passengers. It’s like a Doctor walking into an operating theatre and saying “And what is your problem today sir?” and the patient replying (through painful tears) “To have my appendix removed” and the Dr turning around and walking out. It just doesn’t happen! So why do taxi drivers feel they can be oh so high and mighty and refuse people. Do they think they are better than doctors? Get outta my face!

Then there is the second part of their job description to “take [people] to a desired location”. I can’t count on one hand (mostly because I lost three of my fingers in a butcher’s shop) the amount of times I have gotten into a taxi only to be told by the driver “Would you be able to direct me there?”. What? You are a taxi driver employed to drive people to places they want to go. As a prerequisite for the job you need to know locations. If I worked on a newsagent and someone comes in and says “Can I have a copy of ‘Railroad Enthusiasts’?” and I reply “Sure can you show me where in the store it might be?” I am going to be laughed at. So why in hell do we let taxi drivers get away with it? Most of these guys even have sat-nav systems now and they still don’t use them!

Then! Oh boy! Then, we have the drivers that won’t pick you up because it’s “almost knock-off” time. Huh?? So no working back and doing some extra cash on the side overtime for these guys? Shift change is a constant, across the board, time of 3pm and 3am. So if you are basically within an hour before that time, or an hour after, you can expect not to be picked up? Why are we dictated to by these drivers about when they will and won’t pick us up? It’s their JOB to pick people up! Simple as that! It’s 2.30pm and I want to go on a full-fare paying trip that is likely to take an hour and earn them extra pocket money to feed their starving family? Then work OVERTIME! Sheesh I know it’s a startling revelation for taxi drivers that the notion of working 5 minutes past their bedtime could be considered but come on! I work back at the office every so often – not because I really want to, or that I’m getting paid overtime, but because it’s expected that I finish the work I am allocated that day. Simple.
I have given great consideration to starting my own rival taxi company built on the simple notion of shift change being at 6am and 6pm. That way, when all those other suckers are heading back to their mummies at 3am I just cruise along and pick up all those poor sods that have been left for dead by the side of the road.
Me and my taxi drivers (oh yes, I’d have a whole fleet) would be quite happy to work overtime too. If they get a fare on the way back to base, I suggest they take it. We’d be a hard working fleet that sticks to our job description “pick up passengers and take them to a desired location” and we’d do it damned well.

These guys, the taxi mafia as I have called them, have had it it too easy for too long. It’s time we stood up and demanded that these guys do their job.

- Posted by Mason Hell-Cat (www.masonhellcat.wordpress.com)

IDIOT’S BOX

[Today at The Daily Vent we welcome the first of hopefully many "Guest Vent-ers". Wadrick certainly lets it rip in his debut vent and I look forward to many more of his tirade's to come. If YOU would like to vent on the site, contact me and I can make it happen. Enjoy Wadrick's blast!]

What’s with TV journalists these days? They all seem to be duplicates with only the clothes and hair to distinguish one from the other. They all employ the annoying act of superfluous hand gestures. They tilt and twist their heads to emphasise words that do not seem to warrant emphasis. And they all deliver their monologues with the fake sincerity of a street vendor, as though they are trying to sell the news instead of report it. It’s become so that the people featured on television deter me from actually watching.

About a year and a half ago I had Foxtel connected for the first time. During those last eighteen months I have been subjected to endless re-runs of worthless movies, dodgy History Channel documentaries, 80’s sitcoms, the abhorrent Fox News channel and moronic entertainment ‘reporters’ and homegrown news men and women. It’s amusing and sad to see the forgotten faces of yesteryear who, out of a job with the free-to-air networks, sprinted over to Fox when the cable phenomenon began in this country. Men like Leigh Hatcher, Garry Wilkinson, Terry Willesee and John Gatfield on the Sky News channel. Men that seem totally out of place with news in the modern age, as the programs increasingly become yet another piece of entertainment.

Hatcher, former Network Seven field reporter, seems overjoyed at being behind a desk as an anchorman. But that doesn’t mean he belongs there. The majority of people in TV news are there precisely because they lack the personality to entertain. They can read well enough and tell us what the hell is supposedly going on in the world, but that is where their so-called talents end.

Gatfield is perhaps the worst of a bad bunch. He reminds one of that high school science teacher – the one that always seemed two decades behind the times. He’d always wear shorts and socks pulled up to just below the knee, with the only addition to the outfit in the winter months being an ill-fitting parka. When Gatfield attempts the obligatory banter with his cronies, he borders on the ridiculous. Don’t get me started when he tries to ‘interview’ an outside personality or celebrity.

Willesee always struggled beneath the shadow of his brother Mike, and that darkness still lingers. He seems to have forgotten anything his brother may have taught him. Only Wilkinson fares relatively well. An old hand behind the desk, Wilko draws on his experience to rise above a stinking pile. The ladies that are paired with these guys are a mixed bunch of the new breed of journalist. Most smile politely at their older male counterparts and attempt to provide the kindling for their useless asides. The end result however leaves the viewer feeling just a tad uncomfortable.

The ‘entertainment reporters’ on Foxtel need a good dose of Sarin gas. We encounter more infiltrators here from the free-to-air networks. Remember James Valentine? No? Well, I’m sure most people have forgotten this guy too, probably leading the majority of viewers to believe that he is a new face on TV. This guy was out of a job long before cable was even an itch in Rupert Murdoch’s pants. Now his spectacled mug is back on the tube, waxing philosophical about the entertainment industry and films in general with all the originality of a loaf of sliced bread.

Then there is Sophie Falkiner. Former bra model, one time Wheel Of Fortune letter spinner/eye candy and now Foxtel entertainment reporter. Is she given free reign to write her own questions for her interviews? It sure seems that way and I’ve got to address the Foxtel execs here and say ‘Fellas, that’s one bad idea.’ Her questions are as mind shattering as “You looked great in that movie….was it fun to wear those clothes?”

Is this what viewers really want to hear about?

Another grand mistake on the part of the Foxtel executives was to even give Andrew Warne a job interview, let alone a job! This guy must know someone on the Foxtel board. Maybe he undertook some nefarious task on behalf of Murdoch and a position on Foxtel was his reward. Maybe he just sucked someone’s cock, because there is no way the guy was employed based on anything resembling talent. The man demonstrates all the classic modern TV journalism traits discussed briefly above. The hand gestures, the unnecessary word emphasis, the pseudo sincerity – all proof the guy has been ‘schooled’ in new age journalism. But put him in a chair across from a Hollywood actor, and the guy turns into a bumbling, giggling fool. He projects the image of a starstruck fan, and his questions make Falkiner’s seem Pulitzer-worthy. Often, his questions are merely statements that the interviewee must then convert into an answer of sorts. They might as well interview themselves.

Maybe the ‘starstruck fan’ deal is endearing to some viewers. I can barely understand that. But there is no denying the visible contempt that many actors display towards Warne. Orlando Bloom, interviewed in short clips during the credits of Elizabethtown on the Showtime channel, was amusingly abrupt with Warney and made no effort whatsoever to hide his obvious contempt for his so-called questions. I would like to see more of that. Many actors and directors are far too polite with Warne, and that is often more uncomfortable for a viewer when one can tell the courtesies are false. In fact, I’d like to see Murdoch himself walk on set and stop the interview, berate Warne for his lack of talent, shoot him in the kneecap and then turn the gun on himself.

Now that would be worth watching!

-Wadrick

The Meathead Majority

Is it just me, or are the meatheads taking over this country? What is a meathead you ask? Well, they come in several forms but you can usually spot them as those guys who nearly knock you over in an unending attempt to prove their manhood to you. It’s in their walk, their talk, their stance and their glance. Meatheads encompass everything that is wrong with Australia.

Now, let me make this clear; I like football, I like beer, I like women and I even don’t mind cooking a BBQ now and then. Thing is, I don’t feel the need to try and ram these things down your throat at any given opportunity. These things don’t define me. Should they really define anyone?

I have real problems communicating with men at family gatherings. It isn’t because I dislike the men in my family…not at all, it’s just that they always seem to be doing and saying the same thing over and over. They will always congregate outside away from the females. They will gather around the BBQ and stare blankly at it with beer in hand. They will always discuss either sport or home renovations. Is this just me?

Sure, there are times when I love to discuss sport and renovations, but NOT ALL THE DAMN TIME!

This is why I tend to hang out with the ladies at these family functions. They too have a series of base discussion topics, but they always tend to get more interesting as time goes by and what’s more….they are more relaxed. Try approaching a circle of men around a BBQ and bring up the fact that you sometimes get emotional when you think about your mum…..watch the squirming and lack of eye contact. Take note of how long it takes for the conversation to return to Ricky Pontings century or the paint job on the garage. Fascinating stuff.

Why do men have to be so lame and become meatheads around other men? Are we all so shallow and uninteresting? We all have balls, why can’t we use them? Break out! Admit you like non-manly things once in a while. Show your meathead mates that you have human emotions and feel strongly about certain issues.

I hereby renounce my need to feel accepted by my fellow male. Especially if I have to be so dull and predictable in doing so. The rest of you meatheads can go ahead and seek that comfort you feel by degrading women, talking nonsense and covering your insecurities with macho bullshit. I’m out.

To all you other men….it’s never too late to fight the ever increasing meathead majority!!

Parking Should Be Simple

Ok. Parking had to come up sometime. I have had my fair share of ridiculous moments when it comes to parking. I’ve been fined so often that I consider myself the chief fund raiser for several Sydney councils. There is certainly room for a post specifically concentrating on parking fines, especially in NSW where it really has got out of hand, but today I want to vent on another kind of parking….the Westfield Shoppingtown parking.

My local Westfield has recently adopted a new parking system. Gone are the clunky old machines that spit out a ticket giving you 3 free hours of parking. In their place are even clunkier NEW machines that spit out a ticket giving you 2 free hours!

Firstly, I want that damn hour back. It grinds me that they can just cut an hour away like it never existed. How dare they? 3 hours seems to me quite a reasonable amount of time to do the grocery shopping, buy that gift for your mum or try on a few pairs of jeans. I aint a big shopper by any stretch, but 2 hours just doesn’t seem to cut it. Of course, if you stay for longer than 2 hours, you get hit with parking fees that get higher by the half-hour. Criminal…especially for a place that should be encouraging you to shop, not charging you for the privilege.

Also, most Westfields have cinema complex’s these days and it just so happens that alot more movies run for over 2 hours. So, not only do you get hit with inflated movie ticket prices and even more inflated candy bar prices, now you got to pay extra bucks for parking. Not on!

The craziest part of all this is that most people lose track of time and only realize they are up for some parking fees when they insert their ticket in the clunky new machine. Now they have no other choice but to pull out their credit card and go through that automated paying service. All the while, I am the poor fool stuck 6 cars behind them sitting motionless in a gridlock stretching up to the roof of the parking station.

Surely, when you need to manage a large number of cars and people, you create a system that is streamlined and QUICK. You certainly don’t introduce a system that SLOWS EVERYTHING DOWN!

Christ, it’s only parking for god’s sake. We are visiting your shops, buying your products….can’t you just allow us to park and leave with ease?

I guess not.

Mourning Television…

While television executives fight and bicker over the ratings for their flagship morning news/entertainment programs, the people that really matter, the humble viewer, are left wondering why they don’t just scrap both programs and let us wake in peace.

Mornings are supposed to be sacred. It is that time of day when you are edgy and need a nice, slow and steady regime to wake up to. There are some of us who refuse to listen to morning radio. Don’t get me started! Breakfast radio has somehow become more and more loud and obnoxious, with lame hosts who act all upbeat while they flick through newspapers in search of that quirky, “comedy gold” story. “A German man who married six of his own horses only to find that 3 of them were already engaged” or a “Virginian woman who eats pet food through a straw”…they may be a humorous read in the newspaper, but simply reading it on radio and giggling about it with your co-hosts is pathetic. Not to mention lazy. What? Can’t come up with your own material? Not confident enough in your own ability to write your own gags? You know who you are. Quit talking and just play something smooth and easy so I can sip my coffee in relative peace.

If we want to know what is going on in the world, we are left with no other choice than to flick on the TV. What are we met with? A bunch of retarded morons who instead of easing us into a new day, make us cringe and squirm with their labored easy-going style and near christian-like “we love you, please love us back” manner.

On channel seven we have the Sunrise “family”…and boy what a family it is. Here’s a family you would leave home at age 4 to avoid. Mum and Dad are played by Mel and Kochie, two gruesome individuals who I truly believe were put on this earth as a sick joke by Satan himself to toy with my patience. Kochie, with his polished dome and his pinstriped suits tries to be fatherly to us all, but he’s the kind of Dad you pray doesn’t come pick you up from school in case he tries to talk to your friends. His endless preaching of the Aussie spirit and his “funny as a testicle crunch” sense of humor is all too much for this morning viewer. Thing is, I’d probably sit and listen to several hours of Kochie to avoid one single minute with his co-host Mellissa Doyle. Mel is the kind of personality derived dimwit that is specially made in a factory somewhere specifically to host dumb tv programs. She grins like a drug ladled poodle whilst guest after guest is thrown in front of her. Her journalistic integrity? Zero. Her thoughtful insights into matters of national interest? Zilch. Hell, I get the feeling even she doesn’t want to be there. She has that empty look on her face where it seems she’s elsewhere. Maybe thinking whether she left the iron on, or what accessory she should buy for her living room that will match the curtains.

As for the rest of the Sunrise “family” we have the desperately self-conscious newsreader Nat, who I think secretly wants to knock Mel off her perch, the goofy drip Mark Berretta who’s either laughing at all of Kochie’s jokes because it’s in his contract or he has a seedy man-crush on him and a couple of idiot weather people who don’t even deserve mention.

It’s all too weird, with an underlying hillsong vibe to it for me on channel 7, so flipping over to the rival channel 9 should bring at least some relief….

nope.

Karl Stefanovic. Has there ever been a more tragic figure on Australian television? I think not. Back at school we used to call guys of Karl’s ilk, “total dags”. He’s even daggier than most for the sheer fact that he seems completely unaware of just how “daggy” he is. That “help me I’m slowly thinning” hair-do that defies any wind gust thrown at it. The oh-so forced casual charm that comes off as near sleazy without meaning to. The satisfied face expressions that tell us how distinguished and “top of his game” he thinks he is as a journalist, all negates the fact that most viewers are laughing their arse’s off at him. I could go on about Karl, but at the end of the day, I kinda feel for the guy. He’s like that poor red headed freckled kid you used to tease in the playground who thought he was a hit with the girls. It’s hard disliking someone so unaware of themselves.

I’ve completely wasted all my energy. So much so that I have nothing left in the tank to start on Karl’s co-host, Lisa Wilkinson. Shame. Plenty to say about her. Maybe I’ll devote another post to this lot down the line. And what of the others like Richard Wilkins and Steven Jacobs? Or the campy entertainment reporters? Oh lord hep me! I’ll need to set aside two or three days to vent on those blockheads.

See you tomorrow with more venting.