It was always such a treat when mom brought one of those home from the grocery store, because I could act all independent and choose my own cereal and shit...I could cast off the shackles of having to eat out of the big box, you know? I could be like "Fuck this Kix shit- I want Fruity Pebbles!" and have my own little portion. Like, revolution wherever you can get it, man.
But seriously, I can't believe that the Kix slogan alludes to the fact that children might actually enjoy that stuff because it is ga-ross with a capital nasty. Really, it's vile...like, why don't I just eat the box it comes in, too?
What? They don't sponsor this site, so fuck them. That's right, you heard me- fuck them. Kix can take a flying leap for all I care, that shit sucks.
Wow, I'm feeling sassy and sweary today, what with the giving it to the breakfast cereals I don't like and the such. Don't push me today!
Okay, but seriously for reals this time, Creepshow. What doesn't it have? Get a load of some of the goodness in this film:
* a zombie clawing his way out of the grave- which, incidentally, you don't often see even in zombie-centric movies (Father's Day)
*killer moss from outer space (The Lonesome Death of Jordy Verrill)
*waterlogged zombies returning from the sea (Something to Tide You Over)
*hungry monsters with 438695 teeth (The Crate)
*more cockroaches than you can imagine (They're Creeping Up On You)
*pissed off little kids getting their voodoo on (the wraparound story)
I mean, come on. There's got to be something in this movie that gives you the willies. And if that's not all enough for you, Creepshow also boasts Ed Harris getting down to some disco, E.G. Marshall sporting some sweet hair, more foul language than you can shake a stick at (which absolutely thrilled young me), and plenty of blood, guts, and humor.
Creepshow is a love letter from writer Stephen King and director George Romero to both EC Comics and horror films of the past (note: the housekeeper in Father's Day is named Mrs. Danvers...)- any of these stories would easily have fit in any issue of Tales from the Crypt or The Haunt of Fear. Romero provides the visuals that make the film feel more like a comic book than most films actually based on comic books- he incorporates graphics, bright colors, and comic book imagery seamlessly into each story.
Even the sound is superior in Creepshow, particularly the voices of all the zombies. There's truly a difference between what a body sounds like with water in his throat, with dirt in his throat, or alien plant life- who knew? And the music, please. If the spooky, quirky score isn't good enough for you, there's always that disco track.
There are some great actors in this film, from Fritz Weaver to Tom Atkins to Hal Holbrook to Viveca Lindfors to the aforementioned E.G. Marshall and so on...even Stephen King himself puts in a fine comedic performance as poor old Jordy Verrill. Everyone is just shy of being too over-the-top to make the film campy; as it is, they all react with enough gusto, however, to let the audience in on the joke just a bit.
In addition to being one of my favorite films, Creepshow also boasts one of my favorite characters in any film, which just so happens to be my favorite performance by one of my favorite actors: Adrienne Barbeau as Wilma in The Crate (see all those "favorites"? variety pack!).
Ah, Wilma, that loud-mouthed, foul-mouthed boozehound shrew. Seriously, I could go on and on all day about Wilma. I love her! Not only does Barbeau, who obviously relished the role, deliver every line with a drunken sneer ("I know all the best stores."; "Oh, that was great Henry. That was just great."), she adds all these little touches that I adore; watch her extend her arms dramatically when the crate monster attacks her, or my favorite (there's that word again), when she's driving to Amberson Hall and a car driving behind her big battle wagon honks its horn. She eases from inebriated amusement to inebriated irritation flawlessly, and it's hilarious.
I know that my love of Creepshow led to my unadulterated love of anthology films, though none has surpassed this one, in my eyes. It also led to my unadulterated love of the word "fuckadiddle"- now that's a movie, folks!