I just realized I have two pictures of Macdonald Carey on my harddrive. I'm not quite sure what this says about me, but let's just assume that it's something cool.
SHANNON LARK: I woke up the next day (I think it was Thursday) with a massive hangover. It was baaaad, and Stacie greeted me with the best cup of coffee I had ever had in my life! I asked her what she put in it, and she looked at me oddly, “uhhhh….coffee?” I agreed with myself to agree, although I still believe that she put some sort of magical-ness into it then I can only hope to harness one day.
STACIE PONDER: Dammit, that hangover was supposed to be mine! We'd agreed before Shannon even left New Mexico that she'd be the one giving ME water and nursing my drunkenness after the party and during the long drive to San Fran. It just goes to show, something something something.
In related news, that coffee was pretty fine. You MIGHT say that the secret magical ingredient is unicorn milk, or as it's more commonly referred to, "soy creamer"…which sounds vaguely like a porn star name. Roy Creamer, maybe…hmm. Anyway.
SHANNON LARK: I sat on the couch and we talked while the pain from my noggin’ was slowly lifted. We decided to hit the road and we had breakfast in an ultra-70’s style coffee shop that Stacie was in love with and made a visit to the grocery store, where we bought one can of almonds for our trip.
STACIE PONDER: Oh my God, I do so love the Lamplighter- born in 1977 and it hasn't seemed to have been altered since. It's totally full of grey-haired folk all the time; it's the only place I've ever been where all the handicapped parking spots are ALWAYS full. And I dig that it's half diner, half cocktail lounge. I LURVE the cocktail lounge with its cranky old bartender and the chairs that roll. They roll because they have WHEELS on them! Whenever I have to "take a meeting" (which has happened…err, once, I think) I do it at the Lamplighter cocktail lounge so I can feel as if I'm at the Cattleman's Club on Dallas.
And yes, we pushed a cart around the grocery store for 15 minutes only to emerge with a single can of almonds. I can't decide if that's pathetic or awesome.
SHANNON LARK: It was totally awesome! Stacie drove like a maniac out of LA, onto I-5, where we got to see the sights and smell the smells of California’s dustbowl. Mmmm…. I sang and danced and looked at people through my binoculars as we neared San Francisco. All the old feelings of seeing SF came back to me, and I was perfectly happy I didn’t live there anymore. I love the place, but it was just time to leave, you know?
We could only do so much out in the open air (although in SF you can get away with a lot), and Jane parted ways with us shortly after the meeting. Stacie and I headed off to stay at a residence of an old friend of mine, Darren, and found rock star parking. WOO! Seriously though, Stacie had never been to SF before and she took on those hills like they were nothing. I was amazed and somewhat hypnotized.
STACIE PONDER: I was totally channeling the late, great Karl Malden in The Streets of San Francisco! But really, Shannon had warned me that people freak out driving around SF for the first time, intimidated by all the hills. Meh. I'm definitely not a driver who gets intimidated by much…after living in and tooling around New York and Boston, what else is there? Besides, the hills are meant to be conquered…and they're rather fun, if I do say so myself.
I will admit, though, that we found kick ass parking the whole time we were there. My Parking Fu was quite strong.
STACIE PONDER: The very idea of getting a monitor for this shoot let me know that it would be quite…well, different than what I was used to on my own films. A monitor and a crew? These are things that are entirely foreign to me. Shannon doesn't fuck around, and while it's awesome, it was honestly only adding to my secret anxiety about shooting her film. There would be people watching shit on a monitor, JUDGING ME. What if it stunk? What if these people were laughing at my work, or even worse, at my hair? Shannon's biggest requirement for Voyeur was that I "make it pretty", and it was getting to be time to see if I was up to it.
file photo of Final Girl
Or take this woman, who WEARS ROLLER SKATES WHILST HIKING.
Or this broad, who doesn't say a word but is clearly cooler than you or I will ever be.
See, she's out in the woods a-paintin'. Mind you, she's not exactly painting what she sees, but who am I to judge? Art is feeling, man, and it ain't safe.
Like most other hikers, Coolie Painter falls victim to...something. Or someone. Up until this point, the stalking sequences progressed like this:
I figured wrong. Much later, after many a sequence wherein we follow people walking through the woods and they're suddenly killed by something just out of frame, the culprit is revealed: it's a wackadoo mountain man, apparently the offspring of Captains Caveman and Lou Albano! He's a right filthy kookadook with a penchant for wearing Mardi Gras beads on his face and poking people- poking them TO DEATH- with sticks.
The music is as horrendous as the acting, a thunking and constantly repeating Casio soundtrack featuring swells that build to nothing and stings present for no reason. The less said about the end credits music (set to the tune of "The Teddy Bears Picnic", featuring lyrics such as "Don't go into the woods tonight, you probably will be killed..."), the better.
Shot in the California desert in just a few days under grueling circumstances, Ludlow's plot involves a woman (Shannon Lark) stalked by her abusive ex boyfriend and aided by a well-meaning sister (Elissa Dowling) which quickly turns deadly.There you go. And here's a little clip. Oh, this shit is NSFW, but then so is Final Girl, so...
Soon thereafter, a bunch of people show up at the mansion because...umm...they're friends with the professor, I guess, and he wants to tell them all about his incredible secret. It's never fully or clearly explained, but no matter! What's important here is that we get plenty of scenes with a bunch of unappealing people almost having sex, classic lines of dialogue such as "You look just like a little whore- but I like it!", and we're introduced to Michael (Peter Bark), the 40-year-old 12-year-old who looks just like a mini-Dario Argento.
Yes, he's supposed to be a child...a child with some serious mommy issues- but we'll get to that later.
As I stated earlier, writer Piero Regnoli and director Andrea "Strip Nude for Your Killer" Bianchi add a few welcome innovations to the mix. First, the zombies take to using tools to aid in the pursuit of their prey: from farm implements (!) to battering rams (!!) to a random power saw left plugged into the wall of a rural monastery (!!!), these dudes will do whatever it takes to get their munch munch on. The best sequence, perhaps, comes when the foolish housekeeper dangles herself out the window to check out the happenings, only to have her hand impaled when a zombie- surely some ninja zombie, or perhaps a zombie who was a circus knife-thrower at one time- chucks a spike through it. Then, as you'd expect, the rotters slowly cut her head off with a giant scythe.
Yeah, it's silly, but it's also a frightening twist; zombies are supposed to just stand there, or mill about, or- worst case scenario- run. They're not supposed to throw things, or poke at me with...pointy pokers. And for Charles Nelson Reilly's sake, they're certainly not supposed to climb up anything except maybe stairs! They're not allowed to scale buildings, dammit, but in Burial Ground they do, and it's sort of my worst nightmare come to life. Or unlife. Or whatever.
One element that seems to distinguish Italian zombies from their non-Italian counterparts is the fact that these bastards are fetid corpses, all oatmeal-faced and maggot-covered, who rise from the ground. Elsewhere in cinema, the walking dead are generally just sort of blue-faced and shambling about. I want hands busting through turf a la Creepshow, and I want to smell 'em coming before I see 'em. In this respect, Burial Ground totally delivers.
And now it's time: undoubtedly the most ridiculous and notorious element of the film is l'il pervy Michael. A scene of a mother comforting her son quickly devolves into the viewer crying "Why the fuck is there about to be incest happening on my screen?!" as Michael attempts to feel up mommy, wondering why she refuses to offer some boobage like she did when he was a baby. He's a determined 40-year-old 12-year-old, though, and when Michael is later bitten and transformed, he immediately takes advantage of the situation to get what he wants. It's an absolutely shocking sequence, the dubious highlight of Burial Ground upon which the movie's entire reputation is built.
There's plenty of gut-munching and maggots and zombies galore, but in the end Burial Ground never seems to gel completely into a satisfying whole. I didn't really care about much of anything going on, although it's an interesting piece of Italian zombie cinema, to be sure (if only for the sideshow that is Michael). If nothing else, the film proves one thing: sometimes movies need a plot! Oh, and that zombies care not for friends. So...two things.
SHANNON LARK: It seems as though the filmmaking process of Ludlow went so well between Stacie Ponder and I, that I decided to call upon her to film a short script I wrote titled Voyeur.
It was a perfect situation: I had just enough money to film this small beast, and Stacie had an itching to get the hell out of LA for a couple days. We made a deal for the exchange of services: she does the cinematography for my short and I see some big ass trees with her.
Fuck yeah.
STACIE PONDER: I learned two things (and two things ONLY) whilst making Ludlow: 1) Peperoncinis and peanut butter is a fucking delicious combo, and 2) Shannon and I mesh together creatively, like, super duper wicked awesomely. I’ll jump at any chance to work with her, and the fact that Voyeur came along so soon after Ludlow wrapped had me psyched. I was duly honored that she asked me to DP for her, but after saying yes I have to admit to a little panic. I’d never shot anything for anyone else before. I was going to be essentially responsible for her film (particularly since she’s also the star and wouldn’t be behind the camera with me), and for a while I wasn’t sure if I was up to the task. If I shoot my own movie and it sucks, I can just bury the tapes out in the New Mexico desert next to all those Atari E.T. game cartridges and no one ever has to find out. If I shoot someone else’s movie and it sucks, I’ve ruined her movie and I’m a big jerk. It’s a lot of pressure especially since, as I mentioned, it was my first time. I could only hope that Voyeur would be gentle and would still love and respect me in the morning.
Besides, the idea of seeing the big ass trees in Sequoia National Park after the shoot was too delicious to pass up, so it was on.
SHANNON LARK: I had written the script last November while I was still living in San Francisco (more like surfing on friend’s couches) and I was working at the Starlight Room in downtown SF. My boss, Harry Denton, who is like…famous and stuff, has an amazing apartment in a 40’s motif that I had read about in the papers. I wanted to write a story about a woman who is raped, and it’s really fucked up. I’ve always felt there weren’t enough rape films, especially male on male sodomy scenes. There aren’t any male on male sodomy scenes in the movie, but Harry Denton had the perfect apartment to match, so I was sold on the idea of shooting in the city.
I left San Francisco on January 1st, and drove like a madman straight to New Mexico to live, and like…have a home and a shower and stuff.
STACIE PONDER: Fucking diva.
SHANNON LARK: Fangoria’s Weekend of Horrors hit and the shooting date fell though on two separate occasions for different reasons. Ugh. It’s a short film for Christ’s sake! And dammit, Christ wanted me to make this movie!!
STACIE PONDER: It’s true, Christ wanted her to make this movie. I read about it in the Bible. Okay, not in the BIBLE Bible, but I read about it on a website about the Bible. It said something like “And lo, Shannon Lark shall maketh a film about a woman who is raped, and lo, it shall be good. And fucked up.” SHANNON LARK: I got the crew together (which is all female, so it kinda rocks) and cashed in a free flight from Southwest, due to my nifty little rewards card. Stacie picked me up from the airport in Burbank and we hit the grocery store. I don’t eat gluten anymore and I had a great time telling Stacie allllll about it.
STACIE PONDER: Holy crap, if I hear about gluten one more time I’m gonna puke my pants. Shannon is worse than a born again! Actually, it’s kind of amazing how she managed to work it into virtually EVERY conversation:
“Shannon, what time is it?”
“Umm, it’s 5:30. That’s so weird, because I stopped eating gluten at 10:30 three weeks ago!”
“How is that weird?”
“I don’t know, it just is. By the way, I don’t eat gluten anymore.”
SHANNON LARK: She had arranged a screening for Ludlow and the Ghostella films that evening so we grilled up veggie shishkabobs and I drank wayyyy too much wine. I don’t drink that often and since I don’t eat gluten anymore (hehe), I can’t drink beer. C’mon! I grew up on beer!! Stacie just drank herself sober…on beer.
STACIE PONDER: My goal for the evening was basically to get drunk. This would serve two purposes: one, the booze would soothe my jangled nerves and I’d be able to watch Ludlow and all my other crap in front of people. Two, I was looking to relax after countless hours and long nights editing that fucking movie, and three, it was also a sort of birthday party and to celebrate my FINALLY turning 21, I thought it would be neat to get drunk legally for a change.
Yes, I realize that’s three purposes but I’m a girl so math is hard.
My plan worked for a while, and I was indeed drunk. In fact, I was going around letting people know as much: “Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m a little bit drunk.” The next thing I knew, however, I was unexpectedly and disappointingly sober. The sudden transformation truly counts as one of life’s mysteries.
SHANNON LARK: Everyone loved Ludlow, I think. Except maybe that one guy who wandered off into the night when it started to play. STACIE PONDER: No one knows who that guy was! No one claimed the random drunk guy. Maybe he was a mass hallucination, or a ghost. That’s probably it. He did talk about peoples’ auras an awful lot. SHANNON LARK: The crowd went crazy over Stacie’s short films and I ended up passing out on her bedroom floor directly after Ludlow screened. I spilled wine on her favorite blanket and water on her bed before falling asleep under a curtain that I pulled from my suitcase. STACIE PONDER: Yeah, I think people had a good time. It’s an amazing feeling to have people react positively to something I made- it kinda makes me feel like a three-year-old who busted out some glitter-covered macaroni art and mom loves it- or claims to- and hangs it on the fridge. SHANNON LARK: It looks just like the blanket I was supposed to bring! Honest!! And so the adventures of Voyeur began, just like Christ said on that one website about the bible.
After the movies were over, people wanted to tell Shannon that she was fantastic in Ludlow (because…you know…she IS), but she’d disappeared. I found her drunk on my bedroom floor, managed to get her outside to greet (read: slur at) her public, then tucked her in for the night under her beloved curtain. The wine spillage wasn’t discovered until a week later, after we’d returned from our Voyeur adventure. It really doesn’t matter to me- it’s just a fucking blanket- but what I find most amusing is that Shannon tried to convince me that the blanket wasn’t even mine and that she’d brought it with her.
Be good to each other while I'm gone and watch a Tracey Gold movie in my honor. See you next week!
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