Random Thoughts: The Hippie Hoarder House

The Author

Waaay back in 2021, I wrote a blog post here about a time in my childhood when my brother told me he saw elves in our yard ( like, real live gnomes or elves or whatever) that he saw coming out of a burrow in our yard. Obviously this was fiction, which I eventually figured out. (Hey, I was four years old!)

In that post I mentioned that my brother was friends with a neighbor boy whose family owned an old farmhouse that was across the road from where we lived, a house they didn’t actually live in, and I tossed out the intriguing tidbit that there was more I could say about this house but it was a story for another time. Well, I guess now is that time! Aren’t you feeling so special and lucky right now???

First a brief background about where I grew up. Yeah, yeah. I know. But it will make the picture of this place all the more vivid if you know how small and remote and utterly boring the town I grew up in was.

To call the place I grew up in a “town” would be quite a stretch of the imagination . Even calling it a village is probably a bit much. It was literally one narrow road that contained a handful of houses, a bar, a small park, a town hall ( why it had a town hall I have no idea) a church, an elementary school ( grades 1-4) and an old slaughterhouse that had been converted into a dance hall, which sat at the end of the single road. In fact, the buildings were lined up along the road in the same exact order I just listed them. It took literally all of a minute to pass from one end of ‘town’ to the other. Probably more like 30 seconds. (The former slaughterhouse later gained some fame amongst true crime junkies for being the location of a double kidnapping and murder which went unsolved for nearly 30 years). At any rate, my home town was just a bend in the road, like many other small unincorporated bend-in-the-road towns, set in the middle of a rural county that was mostly farms. My family moved there in 1973 after my parents bought 13 acres of old farmland on the extreme west end of the one road that I just mentioned. (Less than a quarter of a mile away, next door to the elementary school I attended, was the former slaughterhouse now dance hall where a young couple would be abducted seven years later.) My parents had wanted to live in the country, and after buying the land a couple years earlier, built a house that we moved into in 1973. Nowadays, nearly 50 years later, the area has become more built up and there are more houses out there than there used to be, including a few subdivisions that were built in another small neighboring town about 5-6 miles away, but back then in the 1970s most of our ‘neighbors’ were farms and we were surrounded on all sides by farm fields, cow pastures and woods.

So bucolic. But yes, there were farms like this, although many were not quite so picturesque.
So bucolic. Some looked like this, yes, others not so picturesque.

Across the road from us, and slightly north ( so, kitty-corner more or less) was the remnants of an old farm. All that was left was a single low-slung barn and a rundown farmhouse that sat upon a little hill. The house itself had, at some point , been separated from the barn by the one single road that I had mentioned earlier , which apparently had bisected the small hill the house sat on, so the house and barn were also now located on opposite sides of each other on the road. It always seemed strange to me that they would have put the road right down the middle of the the farm, but I know next to nothing about the town I grew up in, and it’s history, or how it was laid out. I assume that the farm used to be at the end of the road and the house was built on the little hill overlooking the barns and outbuildings but then, at some point, the farm was abandoned or no longer in use, and when the county highway was built, it was decided to continue the east-west road to directly connect to the highway, which ran north-south, and they just cut right through that hill, leaving the house standing alone on a weird little hill, while the barn sat on the opposite side of the new road.

I don’t know who originally owned the farm or whether in my time it was owned by the descendants of that original family, or if the people that owned it in the 70s acquired it later. All I know is that by the time of my memory the house had been empty probably for decades, with one single remaining barn and a weed-filled overgrown field right next to the barn. The hill the house sat on was overgrown with weeds and tall grass and the house was partially obscured by trees and bushes that had overgrown and covered up a lot of it, but you could see parts of it from the road. We never called it the Hippie Hoarder House, by the way ( that’s a new moniker I gave it for this post); it was always called by the last name of the people that owned it, but I have refrained from mentioning it here due to privacy, so I will just refer to it as the “B House”.

When I was a kid, the B House mostly sat quietly through the days, slowly weathering and falling apart, a familiar object in the landscape of my life, but occasionally in the summer there would be signs of life; a volleyball net would be set up in the scrubby, weedy field next to the barn where someone had mowed the grass in a large square. One summer a large speedboat on a trailer was sitting in the field with a “For Sale” sign on it. When the volleyball net appeared, there would usually be a large group of people who would show up also, and there would be a bonfire and music and general partying over the entire weekend. Who these people were I never had an idea. My dad used to refer to them derisively as “the hippies” and he and my mom would look annoyed at their presence even though our house was set very far back from the road, so we couldn’t really hear much of their music or noise, though sometimes we caught a little of it. I got the impression that these were family members and friends of the B family who owned the property, or that they occasionally allowed other friends to use the property for this purpose. The partiers were often young people and they mostly slept in tents or just out in the open in the field, total hippie style, like a miniature Woodstock.

Not quite like this, but you get the idea. The partiers usually were a bit messy too.

My brother became friends with one of the children in the B family and occasionally this boy, who we’ll call “D”, would invite my brother over to the B House and I was usually allowed to go with him. I was very young, probably kindergarten age, my brother and D would have been in first grade. Everyone knew the family didn’t live at that old farm, they actually lived “in town” ( which town? I am not certain, but there were a few actual towns that were not that far away), but D would often accompany his father and/or older siblings when they came out to the abandoned farm to do whatever it was that they did out there, so when he was there, he would come over to our house and ask us if we wanted to come over and play. One play date occurred during the time the speedboat was in the field and the three of us climbed up and went inside the boat, which had a galley and a sleeping area down below. It was the first time I had seen a boat like that or been on one and we had a lot of fun pretending we were ‘out at sea’. Another time we were over at D’s house was the time I mentioned in the post about the elves; we were playing in the overgrown ‘yard’ of the house and D showed us the weathered garden gnome statues that were hidden amongst the tall weeds and overgrown bushes and then proceeded to pee on one of them which we thought was extraordinarily funny. During these play dates we never went inside the house except for one time, which must have been a Sunday afternoon after one of the ‘party weekends’ . We were playing outside the house and D said we had to be quiet because ‘people were sleeping inside’. I got the impression they were older siblings of his, and I remember being amazed that he had siblings who were adults. I do recall we decided to sneak into the house for some reason and I remember tiptoeing around the people that were laying around on what sparse furniture there was in a room that had been darkened by hanging dark blankets over the windows and that there were empty beer cans and bottles everywhere and the hot air was heavy with stagnant cigarette smoke. The scene later reminded me of some of the day-after-the-party scenes I saw in the movie Animal House.

Kind of like this, but with way more people. Who also looked like hippies.

I’m kind of surprised, actually, that my parents let us go over there at all, considering.

This party was LIT!

Later in life when I was older I often wondered what they did for bathroom facilities during these party weekends since the house didn’t have running water ( or electricity, I’m pretty sure) anymore. Yikes.

At some point I either heard or asked someone about the B family and I recall being told that the family was very large, that D was the youngest in a family that had many children. My father always made a face when he talked about the family and I got the impression he didn’t think much of them for whatever reason. By the time I entered first or second grade, D no longer attended the same school as we did and I was told they had moved to a different town, so he was in another school district, and thus the play dates came to an end. The family continued to own the property, however, and as I grew older, the empty house and barn became somewhat of a fascination for the local youth. The weekend parties ( the ‘hippie parties’) came to an end at some point in the mid 70s and so from then on the house and barn remained quiet and deserted most of the time. Occasionally a truck would be seen there, presumably belonging to someone in the family, parked next to the barn, but I rarely ever saw anyone there. Other kids in my class at school said the B family were “junk collectors” and that the barn was full of ‘old stuff’. It wasn’t until my classmates and I were older that the curiosity about what kind of ‘old stuff’ there was began to get the better of us.

I was probably twelve or thirteen before I braved a peek inside the barn. It was set very close to the road and I rode past it constantly on my bicycle every time I went to the park, to school or to my friend’s house ( which was next to the school). The elementary school only had four grades, so I no longer attended that school, now I rode a bus “to town” to attend the junior high school there, but the kids who lived in my home town who were my age, that I palled around with sometimes, liked to hang out in the school playground sometimes instead of the park. Other kids said there were old magazines in the barn and old TVs and lots of other stuff. The first time I peeked in there I was by myself. I felt like a criminal, sneaking into the barn, which wasn’t locked, by the way. The doors were all functional but had no chains or padlocks to keep people out. Also, there was a big sliding door on the side of the barn that was never shut all the way. It was always half open. I felt kind of like a criminal but also I felt the thrill of doing something I wasn’t supposed to be doing and also found I really liked snooping.

The old barn, like most barns, had a large central open area with a hay loft and then various smaller rooms or areas throughout. It was 1982 and I had never heard the term “hoarder” and the A&E TV show American Pickers was 28 years into the future ( the TV series Hoarders was 27 years into the future), but if you’ve ever watched an episode of that show, you’d probably get an idea of what the barn looked like. There was stuff everywhere. Literally packed in everywhere, with barely room to get around it in some places. There were old TVs, indeed. Dozens of old TVs of all shapes and sizes and various vintages. There were also radios. I couldn’t even count how many radios. Big, small, transistor, you name it. And bicycles, dozens of bicycles and tricycles, leaned up against walls and other things, in layers, everywhere. There were also magazines and books. Boxes and crates of old books and magazines, magazines stacked four feet high. There were probably newspapers too, but it was hard to take it all in. I could see why some of the magazines had piqued the interest of some of the neighborhood boys who had come in the barn to snoop– a great deal of them were vintage Playboy magazines. To my recollection, the cover art hairstyles and clothes seemed to point to the majority of the magazines being from the 1950s and 1960s. There was A LOT of other stuff too. Some of it was just junk and garbage, some were obviously things bought at auctions or salvaged, like several round-shaped red leather upholstered banquettes that likely came from a defunct restaurant or nightclub that were up in the hay loft with about two dozen naked store mannequins ( which made it extra creepy).

I recall there being other things like car parts, furniture, old vending machines and what I assumed were probably old motors and motor parts and tools, maybe a half-taken-apart snowmobile or two. I wasn’t particularly mechanical at age 12 ( I’m still not) so a lot of what was in the barn was stuff I had no clue what it was. All I could tell you is that there seemed to be tons of stuff, and tons of just junk. None of it was particularly organized very well either, nor was much of it protected or kept clean. The barn was old and dusty and extremely dirty, with big gaps in the roof and sides which let all manner of weather in. And a lot of the items were covered in pigeon poop too, so it wasn’t like this ‘collection’ was being kept pristine for resale.

As for the house, it sat upon it’s little hill like a hulking derelict, the blank windows peeking out from behind overgrown trees and shrubs, looking more drab and dreary with each passing season. I knew little about 19th and early 20th century architectural styles when I was a kid, but an interest later in life led me to occasionally draw upon the fragments of my childhood memories of the house to try and pinpoint a time frame of when the house might have been built. Unfortunately my memory fails me of what a lot of the exterior details of the house looked like, other than the porch and the front door, and that the house was once painted white and was quite tall. I do remember the house had a rather generous porch off to one side and the front door had panels of colored glass on either side.

This 1912 Queen Anne Farmhouse style is the closest picture I could find to how the house looked. It was very similar.

The photo I found above, of a Queen Anne Farmhouse Style house built c. 1912, is the most similar to what I remember the house looking like. The B House was very like this one, it had a porch off to one side and rounded column porch posts like this one. The B House had a similar window arrangement too, except I recall there being a very large window to the right of the door, like a picture window. This leads me to believe that the B House was probably built during a very similar time period. The Queen Anne style was exceedingly popular from about 1880 to 1910, with Farmhouse styles continuing in popularity up until probably The Great War. Inside the house, I most remember there being a very wide, sweeping front staircase, with a curved banister that led up to a small landing, then the stairs continued at a right angle to the landing, which seemed quite elaborate and fancy for a farmhouse, which leads me to believe the family who built the house were quite prosperous in their day. So, you might be wondering now, how did you know what the staircase looked like? Well………..here’s where I admit to being a bit of a criminal again.

Fast forward to about c.1984. It had been a couple years since I had snuck into the old barn to snoop around, but I hadn’t walked up to the house itself since I was five, when I was an invited guest. In the nearly ten years since then, I had walked and bicycled past it many times, but had never climbed the weird, almost perpendicular cement stairs with an old iron pipe hand rail that led up from the road to the front yard of the house. The house was spooky and people said it was haunted. Other kids had said they had tried to get into the house before, but the doors were either locked or barricaded. In 1984 there wasn’t much for a 14 year old who lived in the sticks to do in the dog days of late summer when boredom began to set in. We didn’t have cable TV in the sticks. There was no such thing as the internet yet or streaming services. We had an ATARI but playing video games inside, in summer, was a total alien idea to us. We at least had a swimming pool, but even that got boring if none of my friends could come over to swim and it was just me and my siblings. I always had chores; mostly in the summer my chores consisted of weeding, watering and picking in my parents’ gigantic garden and our fruit tree orchard, mowing our giant lawn or doing laundry, which in the summer meant hanging it all out on the clothesline. I also babysat in summers, which I hated. Looking for fun new things to do was hard to come by, especially given a lot of the kids my age in my home town lived on farms and had endless farm chores in summer.

One day I got the brilliant idea to snoop around the B House. A cousin of mine was at my house that day and she joined me, as did a couple neighbor boys who could always be counted on to be up for getting into trouble.

When we approached the house, I went to the front door and tried to peer into the house via the colored glass panels on the sides of the door. (Most of the windows on the lower level of the house were boarded over from the inside so you couldn’t get in or see in that way. ) Some of the glass was broken in the panels so there were holes you could peek in. Mostly what I saw was a lot of junk and garbage. I also saw what was barricading the door ( which wasn’t actually locked since the door knob and door mechanism was long gone). The door was blocked from the inside by a push lawn mower that was wedged up against the door. I found that by pushing really hard on the door, I was able to shift the lawn mower enough to open the door wide enough that my small cousin could slip in and then she was able to move the lawn mower enough ( it was very heavy) to open the door wider so I could get in, even though there was so much junk on the floor around the lawn mower that it was almost immoveable. It was a very tight squeeze to say the least. The neighbor boys had gone around to the back side of the house where there was another door, but that one was actually locked, as it always was. They were surprised when they came back around and saw we had gotten in. The interior of the house looked pretty much like the barn, except it definitely looked more like a Hoarder house than a barn full of collected treasures. There was garbage and junk everywhere. It was dirty, dusty and musty. Water stained wallpaper was peeling from walls. There were drifts of dead leaves, dead insects, and dirt in every corner. Plaster had fallen down from the walls and ceilings in large chunks. Broken furnishings, old cans and bottles lay about in piles. The once grand sweeping staircase spoke of the house’s former elegance. Now it looked on the verge of collapse.

Yep. Not a photo of the B House, but a pretty similar scene to what we saw in one of the rooms off the kitchen.

We picked our way through the destroyed kitchen and discovered an adjacent room that literally had a mountain of old moldering clothes in the center of the room. It was truly a mountain that took up nearly the whole room and reached almost to the ceiling. I could not fathom how on earth someone could have created such a mountain of old clothes. Or why. Nowadays I am familiar with the term ‘hoarding’ and know that it is a mental disorder, but back then we did not know such a thing existed and we were all astonished. The clothes had been there so long they were faded, stained and smelled pretty nasty. I’m sure there were animals nesting in them too. That pile had probably taken a decade to create.

Though the staircase looked like it was in danger of collapsing, because we were teenagers we didn’t think about dangers like that, and we did go upstairs. The upstairs was as decrepit as the downstairs, but didn’t have as much junk and garbage. In fact, most of the rooms were virtually empty except two, one of which had a large, wildly painted wall mural of a green, pink and purple dragon that took up the majority of one wall. It was a very home-made wall mural and looked like the graffiti you’d find in a back alley behind a seedy club or a 1970s-era crash pad where people were smoking weed and dropping acid. I believe there were also words and other things painted on the wall ( music lyrics maybe) but most of them I couldn’t read because the paint was peeling in spots really bad. The room was empty except for a collection of shot glasses that were lined up in rows across the floor. They were all different shapes and sizes and probably numbered two hundred or more. Their presence and reason for being there, and so precisely lined up, was inexplicable. Same with the one other room that was not empty; while this other room didn’t have a wall mural that looked like something from a fever dream, it did have about a half dozen metal shelving units that contained a wide variety of bric-a-brac which looked mostly vintage–old glassware and figurines, ashtrays, salt and pepper shakers, vases and candy bowls, stuff like you see in large antique malls. These items were extremely dusty also, as if they had been sitting there for years untouched, unlike the shot glass collection, which was not as dusty, and gave me an uneasy feeling that someone had been there in the not so distant past to deposit that collection, despite my belief ( and everyone else’s) that nobody from the B family visited the property anymore, since it had been years since anyone had been seen there. Why, however, and for what purpose the shot glasses had been brought there was a mystery, as was why the collection in the other room had been placed on display shelves in a falling down farmhouse and then left there, was another mystery. So much about that house was a mystery. I’ve often wondered if the B family had inherited the property from a relative who had lived there alone for many years, a family member who also had a hoarding disorder, and after that person had passed away, the task of clearing it out had been too daunting so they had left it as is, occasionally using the property to store their own junk collections and allowing their teenaged and young adult children and relatives to use the property as their own personal party campground/commune.

Anyway, by this point, the neighbor boys had left. They had been expected home by their mother ( they lived in one of the three houses that were just a slight distance down the road) and they were fearful if they were late she would come looking for them and discover them at the B House, so it was just me and my cousin and I was getting a bit creeped out myself and feeling a bit of pressure to get out of there and not press my luck. My parents both worked, but it was late in the afternoon and I didn’t wear a watch, so I had no idea how much time had passed and I knew one of my parents would arrive home soon and wonder where the heck I was. Kids and teens in the 1970s pretty much ran wild in the summers with little adult supervision, only coming home from their adventures when it started to get dark, but that didn’t mean we were allowed to just go off without telling anyone where we were or who we would be with. The only other thing of note that I recall from my criminal trespass adventure that day was looking into what was once probably the main family room ( the scene of the after-party hangover snooze-fest I witnessed in 1975) and being creeped out by a short length of what looked like a thick barn beam that was hung from the ceiling by two short lengths of chain. It’s purpose was a mystery, but I could now easily understand other rumors and gossip I’d heard from other kids who had probably glimpsed that through the front window; some of the rumors were that the house was not only haunted but that cultists used the house, because of a cross that was hung in the living room. Well, it was not a cross, but it was a big wooden beam, about four feet in length, that hung from two chains from the ceiling, so yeah, it was a little disturbing. I’m also pretty sure this rumor then led to even more elaborate rumors that began to develop throughout my teen years into the late 1980s; that devil worshippers were meeting in the the B House basement!

“Satanic Panic”. Yes, that was a real thing in the 80s.

If you were alive ( and older than a toddler) in the 1980s you probably remember the “Satanic Panic” of the 80s. You can read more in depth about it here but suffice to say, devil worship and the existence of ‘Satanic cults’ were being used as scapegoats for almost every social disruption that occurred during that time, and every crime that seemed unusual or mysterious was filled with conspiracy theories that it had been perpetrated by “Satanists”, and somehow these mysterious cultists had infiltrated every corner of our society. Every rural town in America all of the sudden seemed to have spots that were “known” to be places that devil worshippers were having ‘secret meetings’, though how they could be so ‘secret’ if everyone knew about them was never explained. In the case of the B House, it was claimed that people had seen a “red light” emanating from the basement windows, which is where the ‘meetings’ were happening. While I myself did see the red light a time or two sometime around the time I was a junior in high school ( c. 1987) , for all we know someone was using the basement as a dark room for a photography hobby. Or there was a red light bulb in one of the basement light fixtures for some other completely innocent reason. The house didn’t have electricity to my knowledge anyway, so someone was there probably with a generator. Hopefully not worshiping Satan, or burying bodies, but with the B House one never knows. The B family still owned it, and while it remained mostly deserted, occasionally over the next few years the family patriarch did appear over there and park a car for sale in the weedy field next to the barn or some other item. One year it was a rabbit hutch, which my family bought for my sister’s rabbits. One year they had to cart away anything that was left in the barn because the roof had collapsed. That happened when I was older, in my early 20s. I no longer lived in the area, but saw it when I would go home to visit my mom.

A basement meeting at the B House? Maybe!!

Eventually the barn itself collapsed, but by this time it had long been emptied. One day it was there and then one day it was gone. I don’t even remember what year it was. The house itself was gone also by that time. The house was demolished and then burned down by local volunteer firefighters in the early 1990s. I used to have photographs that I took of that occasion, but I don’t recall what happened to the photos. I don’t know who owns the property now, whether it’s still the B family or someone else. The small square of land that had once been the place where the barn stood is just an empty piece of land. Across the road the hill the house sat on is just a hill covered in tall grass and wildflowers. At the top of the hill is a cluster of cypress trees in a weird semi-circle with a sort of empty spot in the middle, the only evidence there might have been a house there. I always look at it when I pass by that way, which is very seldom these days. My parents divorced in the mid-1980s and my dad went on to build another house in another town. My mom stayed on at the home she and my dad built in 1973 until 2014, and then she moved into a smaller home “in town” so I don’t have reason to go out that way much. I live in “the city” now, which is 35 miles away.

As a last side note on this rather looooooong narrative; that day in 1984 when I trespassed in the B House was the last time I was ever inside the house because I did get busted—by my Dad. He had been looking for me and somehow figured out where I went. He came up to the house and heard me and my cousin inside and he yelled at us to get the hell out of there. He was pissed when we came out. My dad was a former Marine and when he was mad it was scary and when you were in trouble, you were in trouble. He scared the crap out of me by telling me that what I had done was illegal, that I had broken into a house and that I could go to jail! I’m pretty sure a lot of what he said was exaggeration, I doubt I would have been sent to jail; but it worked on me. I was 14 and typically a rule-follower and obedient. I felt like the world’s worst person. I got grounded, my cousin got sent home and I never set foot on the property again. (Not even the barn with it’s wide open door could tempt me). I’m sure other kids went in there and probably helped themselves to things, like vintage porn, but not me.

Wow. This was long. Like the world’s most boring novella. Thanks for reading though, if you stuck it out all the way.

The Author

Slubberdegullion! Let’s use it in a sentence!

“At first I thought it would be cool to go on a date with Arthur, but then I realized he is such a slubberdegullion! Ew.”

Weird Wide Web: Unresolved Mystery: The Stolen Renoir

The Author

Art theft. This short phrase conjures images of sexy art heist movies like The Thomas Crown Affair (both the 1968 and 1999 versions) and Entrapment (1999). In reality, most thefts of valuable art are not nearly so fraught with intrigue. In fact, most that I have read about seem to be quite unexceptional in their execution, though, I have noticed that most published accounts about the thefts themselves seem to be very light on details, as if the museums and galleries, and the law enforcement agencies involved, don’t want to be too forthcoming, in case it gives people ideas.

I like and enjoy art. I have always had an interest in it, and I have viewed a few “famous” pieces of art by famous artists in person; including works by Renoir, Monet, Van Gogh, Singer Sargent, Cezanne and Georges Seurat. They are quite remarkable to be seen in person. Photos do not do them justice.

Pierre-Auguste Renoir. 1841-1919

Occasionally I find that some of my interests collide and intermingle. I have also always liked mysteries, and at one point in my life, my interest in art and unresolved mysteries led to me to read about one of the most famous art heists, the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum theft of 1990. You can read about it here ; it is still unsolved and the works that were stolen have not yet been recovered.

When I discovered that Wikipedia has a category list of stolen art works I found myself gleefully clicking on the links, astonished both by the temerity of the thieves and how many of the stolen pieces were taken from a gallery ( and even a museum) by someone who evidently just grabbed it off a wall and walked out with it.

Some of the art thefts that I read about I was already familiar with ( like the theft of the Mona Lisa in 1911) and the 1997 theft of a Gustav Klimt painting that turned up 23 years later in 2019, found in a hidden exterior wall niche after a gardener cut back some overgrown ivy on the grounds of the museum from which it had been stolen. A surprising amount of thefts were thefts of outdoor sculptures, many of them quite large. Many of them were assumed to have been stolen to be melted down for scrap metal and were never recovered, which seemed quite sad, given that sculpted works are very time consuming to make and are often given for the purpose of memorializing a person, an event or are intended as a gift to the community at large. It seems so deplorable that these art works were viewed simply as scrap metal and were treated as nothing; defiling the giving spirit with which they were created.

One art theft that I was not familiar with is the actual subject of this post ( which I am now finally getting to the point of– at last!); the theft of a Renoir that was missing for 61 years. While the case is not absolutely or technically unresolved, there are still elements of the case that are not known, thus the mystery. I also found the story quite fascinating because of the peculiar behavior of the woman who had the painting, a woman who was at first only known as “Renoir Girl”. She was a former physical education teacher from Virginia whose somewhat astonishing story of how she came to have the painting seemed to guarantee a publicity that one would expect she should have realized would bring unwelcome scrutiny. This scrutiny ultimately led to the discovery of the likely unsavory means in which the painting came to her possession and also to her losing her claim on ownership.

Pierre-Auguste Renoir ( b.1841–d. 1919) was a French artist who was a leading painter in the Impressionist style, along with other well-known artists like Claude Monet, whom he was acquainted with. Known for his vibrant lighting and saturated colors in his works, Renoir focused on people in intimate and candid compositions, but he also painted many landscapes. I had the pleasure of viewing some of Renoir’s works in person at the Art Institute of Chicago, including Two Sisters (On the Terrace).

Two Sisters (On The Terrace) 1881. Renoir

In 1879, Renoir painted an oil on linen landscape that was called Paysage Bords de Seine (On the Shore of the Seine). It was a small painting, only measuring 9 x 5.5 inches. In 1925 it was purchased by the oldest art gallery in Paris, Bernheim-Jeune, and a year later sold to a wealthy American by the name of Herbert L. May and his wife, Saidie Adler May. Herbert and Saidie later divorced, but Saidie, who was an avid art collector, kept this painting with her extensive collection until 1937, when she loaned it to the Baltimore Museum of Art, to whom she had always been a major benefactor. In her will, she bequeathed much of her collection, including Paysage Bords de Seine, to the Baltimore Museum. The painting remained on loan for the next fourteen years, until Saidie died in May, 1951.

Paysage Bords de Seine sans frame. 1879

Months after Saidie May died in May 1951, sometime between the evening of November 16, 1951 and noon on the 17th, the painting was stolen from the Baltimore Museum of Art during a special exhibit. The museum reported the theft, but apparently had no suspects and no idea who had taken it. The museum was paid $2,500 for the loss by their insurance company and for the next 61 years the painting’s whereabouts remained unknown and, it seems, forgotten about.

Fast forward to September 2012. A former phy ed teacher by the name of Marcia “Martha” Fuqua brought the painting to the Potomack Company, an auction house in Alexandria, Virginia with the intention to sell it. Martha claimed she had bought the painting at a flea market for $7 in 2009, as part of a box of miscellaneous kitsch that included a plastic cow and a Paul Bunyon doll. As this sensational story began to spread in the news and was even discussed on the TV program, Good Morning, America, the Potomack Company was contacted by an alert Washington Post reporter, who had found documents in the BMA’s library listing the Renoir as having been stolen in 1951 and found the insurance claim for the theft ( the original police report was also located at a later date). The auction house was floored. As part of their due diligence prior to auctioning the painting, they had verified it’s authenticity as a Renoir and contacted Bernheim-Jeune in Paris and had learned of the painting’s purchase by Saidie May in 1925 and that it was loaned to the BMA in 1937, but that was where all known records for the painting ended, and for some unknown reason, the theft of the painting was not included on the Art Loss Register, the world’s largest private database of lost and stolen artworks, so the Potomack Co. had no reason to believe the painting was stolen until the call from the Post reporter, who discovered the insurance claim and the report in archived records.

It seems that the painting, along with most of Saidie May’s art collection, was left to the museum in her will and because she had died only six months prior to the painting being stolen, her estate had not yet been closed, and it wasn’t until early 1952 that ownership of her art collection was formally transferred to the Baltimore Museum, so in effect, when the painting was stolen, it was still technically “on loan”, which could account for why it never was on the Art Loss Register and it seems to have slipped through the cracks so to speak. The Potomack Company promptly canceled the planned auction, alerted the FBI, and the painting was confiscated until the FBI could investigate. The statute of limitations for the theft had long since passed, but as a stolen art work, who would be the legal owner would have to be determined by the courts and the FBI’s investigation over the next 14 months would play a key part in that determination.

Martha Fuqua, who had been using the alias “Renoir Girl” in all press reports up until that point to protect her identity, now was revealed in court documents. She was from Fairfax County, Virginia and had once been a teacher, though she was laid off in 2009. She had a history of financial issues, at one point filing for bankruptcy citing debts of more than $400,000. Eventually, she worked as a blackjack dealer, and then ran a driving school. She was once engaged to a chef and owner of a local French restaurant, but when the couple split, she tried to sue the restaurant in 2003, alleging that she worked at the restaurant as a manager but was never paid. Her ex-fiance produced records of all the paychecks she received and her case was dismissed. In 2012 Martha brought a Renoir to the Potomack Company, claiming she had bought it two years earlier at a flea market and it had been sitting in a shed at her home , almost forgotten, until her mother urged her to have it authenticated. Once it was learned that the painting was a stolen art work, Martha claimed that she had no idea, that it was solely by chance she had come upon it, that she also had no knowledge of art or art history and that she was the painting’s “innocent owner”, however, her story started to quickly unravel.

Following the reveal of Martha’s identity, the FBI soon heard from numerous acquaintances, and also her own brother, Matt, that the painting had been known to be in their mother’s home for decades, and that Martha had more of a knowledge of art than she let on. Their mother, Marcia, ( who went by the last name “Fouquet” professionally), was a painter herself, and earned a fine arts degree from Goucher College in 1952 and a master’s from Maryland Institute College of Art in 1957. She also analyzed a Renoir painting in her master’s thesis. Marcia Fouquet ran an art studio for adults and children in her home for more than two decades and Martha helped at the studio for many years. Her presence there was recollected by many friends, colleagues and former students of the art studio.

One of Marcia’s specialties was reproducing the pieces of famous artists, including Renoir, according to people who knew her, and her online biography. Matt Fuqua initially told reporters and investigators that his mother had owned the Renoir at least “50-60 years”. Other people who knew the family and had visited there also said they had seen the painting in the mother’s art studio as far back as the 1980s and 1990s. Some reported they did not specifically remember what the painting depicted, but all of them recalled the ornate gold frame with a plaque that said “Renoir” and the small size. Some visitors reported that Marcia Fouquet deliberately showed them the painting and showed it off, even telling them it was a ‘real Renoir’, however, almost everyone she told this to did not believe her and thought she was lying and never took her seriously. In one case, she told a friend the painting was a “family heirloom” and that it could “never leave the family” and that she had bought it from an art dealer.

Pictured here with the Frame.

Matt Fuqua’s recollection of how his sister came into possession of the painting is also quite different than Martha’s story. He testified that she did not buy it at a flea market, but that the painting had been in their mother’s art studio for decades and then, in late 2011, less than a year before his sister took it to the Potomack Company to try and sell it, he and his girlfriend, Jamie, were cleaning out his mother’s art studio and Jamie came across the painting stored in a box. She liked the pretty frame and was intrigued that it had a plaque that said “Renoir”. She set it aside and shortly after, when Marcia Fouquet came to check their progress she told Jamie that it was a real Renoir and it was ‘priceless’. Hours later, Martha showed up and spotted the painting and instructed Jamie to call her if she “came across anything else like that in her mother’s studio”. She told Jamie the painting was “worth $1 million” and that her mother was giving it to her to “hold for safekeeping” and she subsequently took the painting away with her.

Months later ,in July 2012, Martha went secretly to an auction house called Quinn’s Auction Galleries with the painting. She made no mention of finding it at a flea market, but claimed she bought it at an estate sale. The auction house became suspicious of her story, however, and when they told her they would need to authenticate the Renoir, Martha questioned why that would be necessary. When they asked her to leave the painting with them for more research, she refused. An appointment was made for her to discuss the process with the company’s vice-president, but she never showed and phone calls made to her were unanswered and unreturned. Shortly after this she approached the Potomack Company to sell the painting with the flea market story.

After a period of investigation by the FBI , the case for ownership came onto the court docket in late 2013. There was too much evidence showing that Martha Fuqua’s stories were fabricated, so in January 2014, ownership was awarded to the Baltimore Museum of Art, as per Saidie May’s original will, and the painting was returned to the museum . Marcia Fouquet had passed away in September 2013 from cancer, age 84. Questions about where she had gotten the painting were left unanswered and if her daughter knew, she wasn’t saying. Matt Fuqua and his sister had become estranged by this time. Martha had been arrested for burglary in October 2013 for allegedly breaking into Matt’s girlfriend’s apartment and allegedly stealing jewelry, furniture and antiques. She then tried to sue her brother and his girlfriend and have them evicted from their apartment, which was on their mother’s home’s property. Matt claimed in his depositions that his mother had told Martha, when the news broke about the painting being stolen, that she should return the painting to the “rightful owners” ( the museum) so that “all of this goes away” instead of trying to claim ownership. Such a comment seems to imply that she may have known all along she was not the “rightful” owner. In March 2014 the painting was put on exhibition at the BMA, 63 years after it was stolen.

So really the only mystery now is —who stole the painting? And did Marcia and, by extension, her daughter, Martha, know it was stolen all those years she had it hanging in her art studio? They both seemed to know it was a real Renoir. Marcia was never forthcoming about where it had come from. Most of the people who were told it was real thought she was lying, and didn’t ask where she had gotten it. When asked by her son, shortly before she died, where she got it, she wouldn’t answer. At least one person was told by her, years earlier, that it was purchased in a collection from an art dealer, but if that was the case, there would have been a record of it’s sale and there was no such record, which she must have known. Another man, whom Marcia dated in the late 70s and early 80s and who built her art studio, was told that the painting came from ” a museum in Baltimore”. Her son Matt has speculated that perhaps it was given to his mother as a gift by someone years earlier, but if that was the case who was the gift giver? Why did his mother not question this person where it had come from, since that would have been an extremely valuable gift? Was the heady prospect of owning a real Renoir too much temptation to resist and she accepted it, no questions asked? Or did she not really believe herself that it was real, but like to pretend to others that it was? I find it hard to believe that she would not have known it was real, given her background, but more so, she was known to have spoken of it’s authenticity and how ‘priceless’ it was. It certainly is very suspicious as well that she had told at least two people that it came from a ‘museum’, which implies that she knew something about it’s provenance.

It seems clear that Martha must have known it was stolen, or, at the very least, acquired by her family by questionable means, thus the various stories that were given by her regarding where it came from. Did she hope that enough time had passed that no red flags would be thrown up? Did she herself do any internet searches about the painting and, not finding anything, decided there was nothing to worry about? It seems very likely. But, if she really had no suspicions or knowledge of the painting being stolen, and she really was innocent of it all, then why not be upfront about the fact that she had no idea where it came from other than her mother had had it many years? Why tell such stories? The fact that she was seemingly attempting to sell it on the sly from her family also is rather questionable behavior. Additionally, Martha’s rude and defensive behavior and bitter remarks following the FBI seizing the painting, and her attempts to get her brother to retract his comments about the painting being in his mother’s studio for decades and support her flea market story, seems to point to Martha being guilty of knowing that the painting’s possession by her family was not by legal means.

My own suspicion about who stole the painting is that it could have very likely been Marcia Fouquet herself. She was attending college in Baltimore the same year the painting went missing. She was a fine arts student and probably very often visited the collections at the BMA. Whomever stole the painting probably just plucked it off the wall and tucked it into their handbag or under their coat because it was so small. Nothing else was stolen, which suggests that the person who took it was an art lover who admired Renoir and wanted it for their personal collection. They never attempted to sell it, which also further suggests it was someone who didn’t want money. Was it a spur of the moment, impulsive action by a young fine arts major student, who couldn’t resist the thrill? Did she perhaps intend to copy the painting and then return it, but then became afraid she would get caught if she tried to bring it back so she kept it instead? Or was it an admirer of hers, a boyfriend perhaps, who stole it for her and she accepted the gift even though she knew it was wrong to do so? Or, even more possible, she had asked someone to steal it for her.

Those suspicions bring up other questions, however. If Marcia stole the painting herself, why hang it up in her art studio and deliberately show people? Why brag about owning a “real Renoir”? People recalled seeing it in her home as early as the 1980s, which implies that for 30 years or so it might have been hidden away, although her son initially said in early reports that the painting had been in the family for 50-60 years, so either he was way off on his reckoning on how early he had been aware of it, or that was something his mother had told him. Other than the insurance claim and payment that was noted on a file card in the BMA’s library, they themselves seem to have forgotten they ever owned it, and other than an old police report, there seemed to be no other documents in existence, and virtually no press coverage either, so it appeared the theft had been lost to time. Perhaps because 20-30 years had passed she didn’t feel it was a danger anymore to display it or speak of it . Or it had been given to her by someone and she had known or suspected it was stolen, but chose to ignore that fact, and decided to adopt a “don’t ask, don’t tell” mentality. As long as she didn’t have to know it was stolen, she could pretend it wasn’t. People can do extraordinary things with their minds when they are in denial. And when they are eventually caught in a lie they often do what she did; say nothing. Which is also what guilty people do. Marcia Fouquet still seems to me to be the most likely culprit, and if not of the theft itself, of knowing that it was probably stolen but never reporting it, of keeping it in hopes that nobody would ever notice ,until her daughter decided to try and sell it behind her back. It’s a mystery that will likely remain unresolved.

Sources: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paysage_Bords_de_Seine, https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/renoir-girl-unmasked-as-loudoun-countys-marcia-martha-fuqua/2013/04/04/32391550-9722-11e2-814b-063623d80a60_story.html https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/mother-of-renoir-girl-may-not-have-known-she-was-trying-to-sell-stolen-painting/2013/12/05/8df60dfc-5cee-11e3-95c2-13623eb2b0e1_story.html https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/flea-market-renoir-was-first-offered-to-different-auction-house-with-different-story-official-says/2013/04/13/b75f9e3c-a21e-11e2-82bc-511538ae90a4_story.html https://www.washingtonpost.com/local/witnesses-say-flea-market-renoir-was-seen-in-familys-home-decades-ago/2013/05/04/2d657db4-add1-11e2-a986-eec837b1888b_story.html

The Weird Wide Web: Odd Album Covers Part 2

The Author

Welcome back! Just a couple weeks ago (I already forget, it was soooo long ago), I wrote this super incredible, amazing post ( ahem) about some pretty hilarious album covers that were collected together on a website called pocket-lint.com, under the title ” 55 Of the Worst Album Cover Art of All Time”.

I’m not going to lie. Some of them were pretty wtf-worthy.

I chose to single out one particular album cover from this literal smorgasbord, which if you have clicked on the link above, like a BOSS, you already have feasted your eyes upon, and if you have not yet, you should. I’ll wait.

So, that particular post led me down into a very extremely weird rabbit hole about ventriloquy, which, I admit, was also pretty fascinating. ( Who knew that ventriloquism was originally an ancient religious practice, called gastromancy by the Greeks, because it was believed stomach noises were made by the voices of the dead, who resided there. Yikes.)

There was another one on that website that piqued my interest as well. It was this 1970s-era album:

Wow. Just wow. Gary really means business.

GARY. Gary was getting down to business, apparently. What business, I found myself wondering? Telephone business? The business of calling people on the telephone? Telemarketing? His wide-leg denim bellbottoms certainly seem to mean business. I mean…look at them! I wasn’t able to zoom into this photo to see what he had tucked down the front waistband of his serious-business bellbottoms, behind his belt buckle, so the item remains a mystery. Much like a lot of this album cover. Perhaps it was a business card! (ba-dum-DUM!)

The placement of the telephone booth, with no apparent wires or connection to anything, in the middle of what looks like a parking lot, gives me the impression that it wasn’t a working phone booth, but was just placed there for the photo, which also makes me wonder, how did it get there? And who had a non-working phone booth just sitting around, waiting to be a prop on someone’s serious-business album cover?

The one-word name–GARY– seems to speak to Gary’s assurance of his imminent pop-star fame, that he would only need a one-name moniker, like Cher. Or Sting. As well does the confident, dare I say, sexy, pose, with shirt partially unbuttoned, that just oozes confidence, despite the utter unremarkableness ( is that a word?) of his countenance.

The back cover photo of this album, which I found on Discogs, shows that the album was released in 1978 on the Sound Shop Label.

New phone, who ‘dis? Never mind, let me put you on hold, while I smolder into the camera!

The back cover also reveals that Gary himself was the producer– G. Solomon. (His last name was verified on the pocket-lint. com site as well). The album was recorded in Nashville, the album design was by a graphics company called Ross-Martin Graphics out of Brentwood, TN. One of the photographers is named Jim Martin. I assume he was the Martin half of the graphics company who designed this cover.

On the back cover, Gary reveals his smoldering sex appeal while nonchalantly letting the telephone’s receiver hang over his shoulder. His telephone business can’t get in the way of his smoldering business. He doesn’t have time to talk to whomever is on the other end. He has to get down to business! The nature of this business is still vague, but perhaps there are clues in the song titles.

“Little Red Book”. Hmmm. Most sexy bearded dudes of 1978 might have a little black book, filled with hot chicks’ phone numbers. Not Gary. His book is red. RED like hot sauce. Because he’s hot. Or saucy. Note: now I think I know what the item tucked into his pants is–a little red book. Noiyce!

“Turn Around and Make Me Strong.” What? That makes no sense at all. I picture someone turning around–away? towards? it’s so confusing– and it makes him strong? Is ‘strong’ a euphemism for “doggie style”?

“Rock-a-ooh-la-la”. The title alone makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little.

“Slippin Around”. Well, that’s just….creepy. Slipping around? Like, literally in something slippery? JELL-O? Mud? The blood of the hookers Gary just murdered? Or does he mean like, slipping around, as in , sneaking around? Slipping past the jailors of the psychiatric ward where he has been housed? Slipping around the corner after scoring some blow? Slipping around the local strip club? The possibilities are endlessly amusing.

“Got to Get Away”. Yes. Yes, I do.

Poor Gary. I really shouldn’t make fun of him too much, since it’s likely he’s still alive.

In fact, he is now DOCTOR Gary Solomon. That’s right. Also known as The Movie Doctor. He is also an author and has several books about Cinematherapy, which is a form of therapy that involves watching movies. According to the bio, he has lectured all over the world and has made appearances on TV and radio and he also teaches psychology at the College of Southern Nevada, in Henderson, NV. He also has a page dedicated to his album, including the same photos I have above, so he seems proud of it.

It all looked very nice and wonderful, if not a little fruit-cakey, until I clicked on the link marked HOA Syndrome. According to Gary, he believes that HOA Syndrome is a new psychiatric disease that he identified, described as below:

At the root of HOA Syndrome is intentional, longitudinal and methodical harassment.
Shortly after the individual takes possession of their property, the HOA strategically begins to
focus on the homeowner’s minor, if not non-existent infractions. The purpose for these attacks is
to create an income stream. This income stream makes its way into the pockets of the
management companies, collection agencies and attorneys, none of whom live within the
community that they are harassing.
“–Dr Gary Solomon

So, apparently, Homeowner’s Associations are causing psychiatric disorders in people. You can read the entire article here: http://www.hoasyndrome.com/Article__HOASyndrome9_12_10V4.pdf if you really want to get down to business with Gary.

The Weird Wide Web: Odd Album Covers

The Author

Ah, the internet. The World Wide Web. The interwebs.

A font of information. A font of a lot of crap, too. A window to the bigger world. Lots of hilarity. And porn. Love it or hate it, the internet is part of our daily life, and provides us all with endless amounts of clickbait, memes and images, should we desire to avail ourselves of it. Some of those images spark a curiosity to know more. Some make us wonder , “WTF?”. Some make us giggle and some make us remember a time in our long-ago past, or show us a long-ago past we never knew.

One of my favorite amusements, made easier by the magic of the internet, is finding old pictures, particularly vintage advertisements, vintage cookbooks with horrible photography and cringe-y photos of fashions of the past. Years ago I discovered a blog/website by the author James Lileks, called The Institute of Official Cheer ( www.lileks.com) that contained a wonderful compilation of terrible vintage recipes and their equally terrible food photography . The compilation was titled, The Gallery of Regrettable Food. Now this gem is available in book form ( which I of course own). You can get it on Amazon. I recommend doing so.

On a similar note, I recently came across a website called Pocket-lint.com , which had a post titled “55 of the Worst Album Cover Art of All Time”. While the claim “of all time” might be a bit hyperbolic, the images therein were certainly pretty awful in general. A great deal of them were from the 50s and 60s. A few from the 80s. Most of them suffered from a combination of bad concept art, low budget photography, horrendous clothing choices and often an unfortunate lack of attractiveness in the person on the cover, including lack of basic dental hygiene in some cases. Which sounds really terrible to say, but it’s true.

One of the images shown that piqued my interest was this one:

Do I know Jesus? Well, not personally. Presumably Uncle Les, Aunt Nancy and Randy do though. Kudos!

Presumably this was an album cover ( hence it’s inclusion), and I assumed, by the title, that it contained Christian songs, sung by Uncle Les and Aunt Nancy…and Randy? I assume they all sang. Maybe only Randy sang the songs? Nobody knows. There was no other information provided on Pocket-lint.com , but judging by Uncle Les’ leisure suit, and Randy’s plaid trousers and early-1970s-era-Dick Cavett-style hair parted on the side, I had initially thought this album was made in the very early 1970s. Nancy’s cat-eye glasses were a little late 60s style, but I knew women who still wore those in the early 1970s and I’m sure Aunt Nancy had more important things to do than being a zeitgeist of fashion.

My curiosity was furthered by the fact that an actual record album was made of this trio—were they famous amongst the Christian Fellowship set? The album “features” Randy, which seems to indicate that people would know who Randy was, and would be jazzed to get a record album of his stylings of Christian hymns. Was it really, though, a record album of songs? It could have been just recordings of them talking about Jesus, I suppose, and how you should get to know Him, but when I went to Discogs, I learned that not only is it an LP, but yes it does contain songs. Eight songs to be exact ( one is titled Christian Cowboy.) Also, surprisingly, according to Discogs, the album was released in 1979, which is much later than I would have guessed, judging by the clothes they are wearing, but I suppose the picture that was used for the cover art may have been a photo that was taken years before. I also learned the album was pressed by Artist’s Recording Company, which, according to Discogs, was a record pressing plant and recording studio in Cincinnati, Ohio. Located in the Lockland area, the studio opened in 1951 and stopped in the early 1990s. The pressing facility started in December 1968 and folded in October 1985. The plant did jobs for many small, regional labels like King Bluegrass, Pine Tree, Melody, Central, and Vetco. Ah, once again, the MAGIC of the internet!

Sadly, this album appears to be their only release and Discogs had none for sale. Bummer!

More on Randy: he’s creepy. Maybe it’s the hair, or that he has no chin. Many people find puppets and ventriloquist dummies creepy nowadays, mostly because of horror films in pop culture that have portrayed dolls and dummies alive and horrific, but once upon a time, ventriloquy ( which is the correct term) was an extremely popular form of performance stagecraft in the 19th century and early 20th century. Perhaps one of the most famous ventriloquists in the US was Edgar Bergen ( born Edgar Berrgren who, today I learned, was the father of actress Candice Bergen– mind blown!), and his wildly popular dummy, Charlie McCarthy. Side note, the fear of ventriloquist dummies ( or ventriloquial figure, if you want to be proper) is called automatonophobia. According to doctors who deal with these kinds of phobias,…” it’s common for people to feel uncomfortable in the presence of human replicas. While many figures, mannequins, or robots resemble humans, we inherently have the awareness that they are not real, which often feels chilling or unsettling.”

No. Not creepy AT ALL. Totally normal looking. Also, that dude is hot. Why does his figure look so insane?

Getting back to Randy and his best pals, Uncle Les and Aunt Nancy…..although I am unsure who “voiced” Randy ( the assumption would be Les), I did think it somewhat weird that they have Randy posed with his arm around Nancy’s shoulders and Les holding his hand, like he’s just a regular old normal real dude, or even like he is their child, which seemed to up the creep factor even more, but then I looked at other images of ventriloquists and their figures and I saw that they all do that when being photographed with their figure. It’s somewhat freaky. Google it. I dare you.

Since the album was marketed as a children’s album, it becomes obvious Randy’s purpose was to help Uncle Les and Aunt Nancy teach children basic Christian values. In fact, I learned that this is called Puppet Ministry, and is still used today in many church congregations for Sunday School and Bible Studies classes. There are dozens of Puppet Ministry websites that include ideas and downloadable scripts, even resources where to buy puppets. It sort of makes me feel a little bad for getting a laugh at the Wheelers and Randy, since they were just wholesome church folks doing the Lord’s work in the best way they knew how.

It still doesn’t really explain the album. They must have been the rock stars of their church!

“Aunt” Nancy Wheeler, later years.

Further internet searches about Lester and Nancy Wheeler didn’t turn up much more information other than an obituary I found online from 2014 for Nancy that gave some clues. She was born Nancy Ann Robinette on May 3, 1940 in Flint, Michigan and married Lester Wheeler in 1973. The obituary states that “Together “Uncle Les and Aunt Nancy” traveled the country as Children’s Evangelists in Puppet Ministries”, which might explain the album, if they traveled the country, they must have been popular and well-known. She was 74 when she died in 2014. Lester preceded her in death in 2000 ( though I did not find an obit for him). They had two sons. She also worked for the Kearsley School District for 30 years at an elementary school, not surprisingly. No mention is made of what became of Randy. Is he moldering away in some closet of one of their sons’ homes, or have one of their grandchildren or great-grandchildren taken up ventriloquy? Has he been long ago turned into wood chips in some landfill? The world may never know. Also, if Nancy was born in 1940 and that album was from 1979, she’s only 39 years old in that cover photo. 39. Take a moment to consider that. And if the photo was indeed taken a few years earlier, she’d be even younger than that. Did the water in Flint, Michigan have weird aging properties?

I tried to do a Google search about what usually happens to ventriloquial figures after their person? operator? dies or retires but I didn’t find much about that, with the exception of famous dummies, like Charlie McCarthy, who was donated to the Smithsonian. I am also curious if Lester was already an accomplished ventriloquist when he joined the Puppet Ministries or did he learn later in life specifically because he became part of Puppet Ministries? It’s the classic chicken-or-the-egg question.

This man and his figure are clearly bros. They are ride or die. To the end. Word.

Whatever Randy’s fate, he can rest easy knowing he did important work and is now “internet-famous”, even if he is sorta creepy.

Ghost Cow

The Author

Good to know!

Random Thoughts: Road Trips in The Early 90s

The Author

Ah, the 1990s.

It seems like it was so close, yet so long ago.

It’s weird to me that people who were born in the late 90s are approaching their mid-twenties. Was not 1998 only like 10 years ago?

The 1990s was such a decade of transition and was such a rapid escalation of technology and cultural changes that I suppose anyone who was born in that decade ( or later) can be forgiven (maybe) for not realizing just how different the earlier part of the 1990s was from the latter part –the era before cell phones, before internet and the World Wide Web. When fashion trends still looked more 80s and yes, still looked awful and cringe-y.

Beverly Hills, 90210 cast c. 1991. So much light wash denim.
Hats, mock neck tops, tapered loose jeans. And belts. Always the belts.
Mock neck tops weren’t just for chicks. The fashionable early 90s dude sported one underneath his blazer ( or sweater vest). Note: Despite his pose, it was not sexy.
Lord help us. What is this madness?

I’m sure anyone younger than twenty would be wondering how we survived when it came to road trips or travel , when there was no Google maps, the ability to ask Siri for directions, or where the nearest rest stop was, and without a cell phone, how did you call or text someone who was road-tripping with you to stay in contact? Well, I will tell you what my family came up with as a solution, so that we didn’t all die of dysentery like we were on a real-life Oregon Trail ( Note: slight exaggeration). It was called………….. a “walkie-talkie”. Yes. Also known as a two-way radio.

The ones we had looked sort of similar to the ones above, but less fancy. And they had to be charged on a base that plugged in, like a cordless phone. Which presented another problem if you were going on a road trip because you couldn’t just plug them into your car to charge them up.

Why, do you ask, would you need to stay in contact with someone while on a road trip? What was the need for this 90s sorcery?, you might wonder. Long story short, my family used to take road trips down to Florida, where my mother and step-father had a timeshare condo in Cocoa Beach, Florida, which they had purchased around 1989-1990. Because we lived in Wisconsin, the drive was quite long– about 21 hours or so if you drove straight through without stopping, except to get gas. You might be wondering why, at this point, we didn’t just fly down there and my only answer is that we were frugal Midwesterners who didn’t want to spend tons of cash on plane tickets and car rentals, so we would drive because gas back then was relatively cheap yet. Also, since my siblings and I were technically adults ( and some of us were in college by the early 90s) none of us were particularly flush with cash at that age, and I grew up in an era when parents didn’t financially support their children until they were in their forties. This was a relatively inexpensive way to have a week’s vacay in Florida without breaking the bank.

Because it was a timeshare, “our” week was always the same time every year–the end of May. The timeshare had three bedrooms, and easily slept 6-8, so usually there was a group of us that went down together, depending on who was available. Sometimes it was just my family, sometimes one of us brought a friend, or someone we were dating. If all of us kids were busy, some years my mom and step-father invited their own friends to go with them, or invited some of my aunts and uncles, but they liked it best when it was a family trip. Check-in time for our week was always 11 o’clock on a Friday, so we would start our road trip on Thursday afternoon. If there was a large group of us going, which there usually was, we would have to take several cars to fit everyone and their luggage. We had no cell phones and no Google maps, so we had to look up directions the “old-fashioned” way…. by looking at an actual road map.

My step-father was in charge of mapping out the drive and he would always take the lead with the rest of us following behind, caravan-style. Normally there would be several people to each vehicle, so we could take turns driving. The problem then became, how do we signal to each other that someone needs to stop for gas, or to pee, or to switch drivers? We solved that by using the walkie-talkies. We selected a channel, and then, to conserve the batteries, left them turned off until we saw one of the other cars signal to us to turn them on, which was by flashing their lights. The other cars would see the signal, turn on the walkie talkie and then relay whatever info we needed. Genius. And it was sort of fun, I admit. Like an adventure. But in cars instead of riding through the Sahara Desert on camels or whatever.

A note about Cocoa Beach; it was a fun place and we always found lots of things to do when we went there and always had a good time. Our timeshare was in the Discovery Beach Resort, so named because you could see Cape Canaveral, where they launch the space shuttle from, from the balconies of the resort that were oceanside. In fact, there was a launch once while we were there and we watched it from the balcony. It’s also only an hour drive to Orlando from Cocoa Beach, so we used to sometimes take 1 or 2 days of our week to spend a day at Walt Disney World and Universal Studios.

The famous Cocoa Beach Pier. Discovery Beach Resort can be seen in the right hand corner of this photo; the white building with blue ( second from the right).

Fun fact about Cocoa Beach; the wildly popular sitcom series “I Dream of Jeannie” ( which ran from 1965 to 1970 and then years afterwards in syndication) was set in Cocoa Beach, Florida and nearby Cape Kennedy, home of the Kennedy Space Center ( because one of the main characters, Captain Tony Nelson, is an astronaut who lives in Cocoa Beach and works at the space center). If you are too young to remember this iconic sitcom, you can read about it here.

Because of this, there is actually a street named for the show in Cocoa Beach. It’s actually not far from the pier.

My last trip to the timeshare was in 2006. My mom sold it not long after that. By 2006 we didn’t drive down anymore; now we flew. It was certainly easier, but to be honest, maybe not quite as charming. Sometimes there’s more fun in the getting there than the destination.

Cats

The Author

In our household, we call it the “Food Hole”. This picture is also very accurate.

Under the Furniture

The Author

Or maybe, #4– An entire grilled cheese sandwich that you lost that one time, like, months ago. Yum!

My Top 5 Christmas Movies

The Author

Everyone says there are two kinds of people when it comes to the Christmas holidays; those that start putting up their Christmas decorations the minute the Halloween trick-or-treaters have left their doorstep, and those that won’t even mention the word ‘Christmas’ until after Thanksgiving is over. I think there’s some people that are kind of in-between, to be honest, and then there’s the Bah-Humbuggers, who loath the Season more than anything and can’t wait for all the folderol to be over.

I tend to be closer to a Bah-Humbugger on most days ( BT-dubs, I claim that term as my own invention) although I didn’t used to despise Christmas when I was younger. In fact, I quite enjoyed it. I think the stress, the financial strain on people’s wallets and the rampant commercialism has really wrung most of the joy from the Joyeaux Noel for me and honestly, for many people. Throw in dysfunctional family gatherings, horrible travel, spoiled sugar-high children and overpriced everything and you start to feel like you and Krampus are total bros and you want to throw just about everyone into the underworld, not just the naughty kids.

I feel ya, bruh.

Whatever your feelings are about Christmas, however, whether you love it or hate it ( or have a love/hate “it’s complicated” relationship), most of us still have our Christmas traditions that we enjoy, whether it be getting together with family to craft homemade gifts, make a gingerbread house, bake cookies, volunteer to be a ringer for the Salvation Army, or binge-watch Christmas movies in your pjs.

Watching movies is, personally, a favorite way to relax and de-compress in general, and watching my favorite Christmas movies at the holidays is one of my traditions, which I always try and find time for.

Now, if you’re thinking that when I say I like to watch Christmas movies you’re thinking of all those stupid Hallmark Channel-esque rom-com holiday movies, absolutely not. I’m a chick, but I’m not huge on the chic-flic genre and I’ve never watched the Hallmark Channel in my life. Barf-O-Rama.

What do you like, you say? I’m so glad you asked, Gentle Reader. Here’s my list of my Top 5 Christmas Movies.

#5: Scrooged (1988). (To be honest, the number five spot is really a tie, between this movie and Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, but I picked this one because it really is a Christmas movie, in a sense). The director of this movie is Richard Donner, who also did all the popular Lethal Weapon movies in the 1980s. He passed away recently (July 5, 2021) at the age of 91. The film stars Bill Murray, Karen Allen, Carol Kane, Alfre Woodard and comic Bobcat Goldthwait, who was the go-to dorky weirdo for many films in the 80s. The movie is basically a contemporary re-imagining of Charles Dickens’ classic, “A Christmas Carol”. Bill Murray plays Francis Xavier Cross, a television studio executive who is the epitome of 80s-era greed and lust for success and money who must learn the errors of his ways, thanks to visits from the Ghosts of Past, Present and Future. This black comedy is full of great lines and funny moments and Bill Murray’s deadpan wit delivers as always, with a lot of wonderful supporting cast.

#4: National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation: (1989). Another movie from the 80s, of course. (Hey, I can’t help it that the 80s were awesome.) The well-loved Griswolds are at it again in this third film in the franchise. Chevy Chase and Beverly D’Angelo return as Clark and Ellen Griswold, and this time the Griswolds have decided to stay at home and have a “fun, old-fashioned family Christmas”, but as usual when it comes to Clark’s plans, not much goes as planned. Randy Quaid returns as white-trash cousin Eddie and the Griswold kids Rusty and Audrey are played by a young Johnny Galecki and Juliette Lewis. From the annoying relatives and yuppie neighbors, tangled Christmas lights that don’t work, to unexpected guests, a fire and a squirrel running loose in the house, Chase is in perfect form as Clark W. Griswold, who is trying to maintain his sanity and still pull off the perfect family Christmas, which makes his breakdown at the end all the more hilarious. This movie gets a re-watch almost every year in my household and it never gets old.

#3: The Ref (1994): In this dark comedy directed by Ted Demme (Blow, Beautiful Girls) Denis Leary stars in all his acerbic, biting glory as Gus, a cat burglar who gets separated from his crime partner during a house robbery on Christmas Eve in a posh Connecticut neighborhood and is forced to take a bickering couple hostage as the community is put on lockdown, until he can connect again with his partner and find a way for the two of them to escape. Very quickly he finds that he has stepped into the most dysfunctional family dynamic ever, which includes the bickering Lloyd and Caroline (played superbly by Kevin Spacey and Judy Davis) who are on the verge of divorce, their blackmailer son Jesse, Lloyd’s horrible and evil mother, Rose (Glynis Johns) and Lloyd’s dim brother Gary and shrill sister-in-law Connie ( the always hilarious Christine Baranski), and for Gus the madness begins, as he finds himself forced to referee and resolve their differences before he gets caught by the police. Anyone who’s ever had to deal with annoying relatives at the holidays and had to uphold a smiling visage even while irritation simmers beneath their smile like a pot almost ready to boil over will find some familiarity with Lloyd and Caroline’s difficulties, even though they themselves are far from innocent, which Gus does not hesitate to call them out on. Anyone who loves a dark comedy Christmas movie that includes liberal use of the F-bomb, a super drunk Santa Claus who has too much eggnog at a Christmas party and gets kicked out of the party, inept local police who videotape a soap opera over the security footage video from the robbery and an underdog getting his day, will find this movie as splendid as I do.

#2: A Christmas Story ( 1983): If ever nostalgia could be defined by a movie, it would be this one. There can’t be too many people ( adults and children alike) who cannot relate to something in this movie–the best friend who gets his tongue stuck to a flagpole, accidentally swearing in front of a parent and getting your mouth washed out with soap, getting chased daily by the neighborhood bullies, wearing so many layers of winter clothing that you can hardly move, that heady Christmas morning expectation when you hoped to get the much desired ultimate Christmas gift that topped your list that year, among many other scenes. I didn’t grow up in the 1940s, which is when this movie is set, but my parents did, and my childhood Christmases and memories in the 1970s are actually not too different from what is seen in the film. Child actor Peter Billingsley plays the character of 9 yr old Ralphie Parker with perfection. Darren McGavin’s ( Ralphie’s dad) ad-libbed profane rants against their furnace in their home, their “hillbilly” neighbor’s dogs and his utter glee at winning the “Leg Lamp” are infamous. Melinda Dillon ( who plays Ralphie’s mom) is the quintessential mom–kind, compassionate, firm, but also fun. Ian Petrella plays Randy, Ralphie’s often whiny little brother with an authenticity that makes you feel that they really are brothers. Ralphie wants nothing but a Red Ryder Ranger Model Air Rifle BB Gun for Christmas and the main plot line of the movie is his numerous hilarious attempts to convince his parents, his teacher and Santa that it is the perfect gift. Despite the many admonishments from the adults ( and the creepy cynical Santa at Higbee’s Department Store) that “you’ll shoot your eye out”, and the building tension as Christmas nears that he may not actually succeed, ( spoiler alert) he does in the end.

#1: Die Hard (1988): Earlier I said that there are two kinds of people when it comes to Christmas; well, there are also two kinds of opinions on the first Die Hard movie–those who consider it a Christmas movie, and those who do not. As this movie is #1 on my list, I think it can be deduced that I am the former. I’ve even seen memes about it. Case in point below:

Yeah. Totes.

When people say, “How can this be a Christmas movie?” I say, “How is it not?” There’s Christmas music in the soundtrack ( Run-DMC’s “Christmas in Hollis”) and Reginald VelJohnson ( Sgt. Powell) sings “Let it Snow” while buying Twinkies. The setting of the film is at a corporate Christmas party. There’s Christmas trees and decorations. There’s Christmas wrapping paper and holiday patterned tape that John McClane uses to tape the gun to his shoulder when he “surrenders” at the end. There’s even a dead terrorist wearing a Santa hat (“Now I have a machine gun. Ho.Ho.Ho.”) This movie was released in July of 1988, and I remember going to see it in the theatre somewhat un-enthusiastically with my then-boyfriend because action movies in the 80s were not really my thing ( they were either Rambo movies, Arnold Schwarzenegger movies, more Rambo movies, or Jean Claude VanDamme movies and most of them I found boooooring). I was mildly interested in this one, though, because it starred Bruce Willis and I was a fan of him, from his very popular TV series Moonlighting (1985-1989), but I wasn’t 100% sure I’d like it ( action movies, bleh). Suffice to say, within minutes I was totally hooked and I was also forever enamored of Alan Rickman, who brilliantly played villain Hans Gruber. I believe this was the first major film he was in that exposed him to U.S. audiences–it certainly was for me. The rest of the cast was also great– Bonnie Bedelia as Holly McClane, popular actor and writer Reginald VelJohnson as Sgt. Al Powell and Paul Gleason and William Atherton were true to form as the requisite assholes. While some might disagree that it’s a Christmas movie, I think everyone can agree it’s a kick-ass classic and some of the most memorable lines are forever immortalized in pop culture. Yippee-ki-yay.

Den of Iniquity

The Author

Humphrey’s response: “………………………………..”

Humphrey? Humphrey?

Random Thoughts: The Gnomes in Our Yard

The Author

People always tell me that I have a really good memory, and I suppose that is true. I do remember things very well. I also can remember many things from when I was very young; for example, I have numerous memories of the first house I lived in, which my family moved away from when I was less than three years old. The memories are fragmentary at most, but they are there. One of them is a memory of me standing at the front door of the house, looking out at the front steps and the yard, from behind the screen storm door. It was summer, everything was green and shady in the yard. I can even remember the feel of the screen door against my nose, which was pressed against it, as I looked out.

Our next house was one my parents had built, and it was the house I lived in and called home for the rest of my childhood and teenage years, until I became an adult. I was less than three years old when we moved into the new house in 1973 ( yes, I have dated myself now) and my older brother was four. (I also have two younger sisters, who were born later). My brother, being the only boy, had his own bedroom (I shared a room with my sisters until I was thirteen) and I used to like going into his room to hang out with him. He was my big brother and I looked up to him and when he told me one day that he had seen “elves” coming out of a hole in the ground, I totally believed him.

My brother’s single-occupied palace of a bedroom had a window that looked out at what we called the “side yard”, which was just a grassy area and a line of trees that bordered our property line on the south side of our house. We lived in a rural area, not in a city, and I believe there was an underground drainage field for the septic system in the side yard at the time because I remember a small hole or slightly sunken spot, with a narrow pipe that stuck out of the ground right next to it, which always seemed to have longer grass around it because my dad always had to steer the lawnmower around this pipe. It was this “hole” that my brother told me was where the ‘elves’ lived, and where he had seen them leaving their underground domicile.

Not our yard. But I could see gnomes or elves living here. Totes.

At the time he told me this, I was about four and a half, I believe. I started kindergarten a month shy of my fifth birthday and I remember this happening the spring before I started kindergarten, when the grass was still dormant and scrubby looking from winter and the ‘hole’ was exposed more than usual and muddy. I remember standing in his room, with it’s blue and red cowboys and Indians wallpaper, looking out that window and him pointing to where he had seen the elves. He called them elves, but in my mind I pictured gnomes.

These.

I suppose I pictured them as garden gnomes because I really had nothing else for comparison, and I had seen garden gnome statues before, at a neighbor boy’s house. (The neighbor boy was a friend and schoolmate of my brother and the house was actually an old farm that his family owned but did not live in, which is a crazy story for another time. However, suffice to say, this neighbor boy thought it was funny to sometimes pee on the garden gnomes that were hidden in the overgrown grass, which we also thought was hilarious.)

Try as I might, I could never glimpse the gnomes ( or elves) myself, no matter how long I stood at the window in my brother’s room looking at that spot in the yard, hoping they would appear. And I’m sure it was hours when you added it up, that I spent at that window, straining my eyes for any slight movement, any minute indication. I even remember several times, while playing outside, walking over to that hole in the ground and inspecting it, looking for something, wondering why my brother had seen them but I never did.

Eventually I came to the conclusion that my brother had made it all up, there were no elves or gnomes. I don’t remember how much time passed before I came to this conclusion, probably months, but I certainly never forgot about the joke and in later years, would look at that spot in the yard and laugh to myself, and think of the gullible kid that I had once been, hoping to see gnomes tumbling out of a hole in our side yard, they unaware they were being observed, occupied with their own secret business, which only I was privy to.

Want to know how the tradition of garden gnomes got started? Good thing we have this thing called “the internet!”

See link below.

This Needs to Exist

The Author

If there was ever a book that needed to exist, it would be this one.

It would probably be the hottest selling Christmas gift of 2021…..and for years onwards. Yassss.

Goals.

The Look of the 80s

The Author

Can confirm. 100% accurate.

Random Thoughts: Third Grade

The Author

Third grade for me was a long time ago. Much longer than I want to admit, sometimes, but I still remember many things about it. It was the year that I got chicken pox. My parents were told that I needed glasses. One of my best friends in school was a girl named Colleen, but she moved away the next year.

Mostly I remember my teacher. She was probably in her sixties then, but she looked, to us eight year olds, like she was ninety. She had arthritis in her hands and one of her thumbs was bent backwards at the joint. Like, literally backwards. When she would write things on the overhead ( an overhead projector in case you don’t know what that is) her bent-backwards thumb would be superimposed, giant sized, onto the screen that had been pulled down in front of the blackboard.

She also had a lot of aphorisms. Like, “monkey see, monkey do”. And the most memorable one, “Haste makes waste.”

She said that one practically every day ( or so it seemed.) For some reason, I always misunderstood what she was saying and thought she was saying, “Haste makes paste.” Which makes no sense. Obviously.

But, since I was eight, I guess I thought there was some mysterious meaning to it, that I would one day understand, and so, for years it puzzled me, that is, until one day, it came to me and I realized she had been saying “waste” not “paste”.

And the world made sense, finally.

This is an “overhead”, for you youngsters. To be assigned the task of wiping the clear plastic sheets clean after class was considered an honor, reserved for students who were worthy.
Do not eat.

October Movie Picks (#6)

The Author

Counting down the days until Halloween, I bring you another spooky and scary movie pick for your viewing pleasure, if you be so willing, Gentle Reader.

This next movie pick should come as no surprise. It would seem unlikely that any list such as this would not have at least one Tim Burton movie on it.

From the listless repose of the place, and the peculiar character of its inhabitants, who are descendants from the original Dutch settlers, this sequestered glen has long been known by name of Sleepy Hollow ... A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to hang over the land, and to pervade the very atmosphere.

— Washington Irving, "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"
Yassss.

Sleepy Hollow (1999): Directed by Tim Burton

Writers: Washington Irving ( original story), Kevin Yagher and Andrew Kevin Walker

Released on November 19,1999, Tim Burton’s gorgeous Gothic masterpiece, Sleepy Hollow, has all the requisite items of a film perfect for the Halloween season; a headless horseman, witchcraft, beheadings, dead bodies, murder and mayhem.

Burton, long-known for his dark, yet sometimes colorful, and quirky highly artistic style ( Edward Scissorhands, Beetlejuice, Mars Attacks, Ed Wood, Big Fish, are among the many), brings his usual panache to this film, which is based on the classic gothic children’s tale, “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”, written by Washington Irving while he was living in Birmingham, England and first published in 1819. Along with it’s companion piece, “Rip Van Winkle”, it is one of the earliest examples of American fiction with enduring popularity.

This film version follows quite closely the original story, which takes place in 1790 in a small Dutch settlement outside Tarry Town in upstate New York, a farming community called ‘Sleepy Hollow’. The residents of Sleepy Hollow are quite superstitious and fascinated by local tales of ghosts and haunted places, and believe the town is bewitched, which is how the town is portrayed in the film version as well ( although in the film, the year is 1799). Just like in the original story, the town’s most infamous spectre is the Headless Horseman, whom is believed to be the ghost of a Hessian soldier who was decapitated by a cannonball during a battle in the Revolutionary War.

Sleepy Hollow boasts a wonderful cast of actors, many of whom have appeared in numerous other Burton films, such as perennial Burton fave, Johnny Depp, in the title role of Ichabod Crane, Christina Ricci as the ethereal and enchanting Katrina Van Tassel, and Christopher Walken as the Hessian/Headless Horseman. Other roles are played superbly by Jeffrey Jones, Miranda Richardson, Casper Van Dien, Christopher Lee, Michael Gough and two Brit actors who also starred in the Harry Potter movies, Michael Gambon ( who played Professor Dumbledore) and Richard Griffiths (who played Harry’s uncle, Vernon Dursley). One of the scene-stealers in this film is Marc Pickering, who played the role of Young Masbeth, a young teen boy whose father is murdered by the Horseman and, now orphaned, pledges his service to Ichabod Crane as his valet. Martin Landau (who won an Oscar portraying Bela Lugosi in Burton’s film, Ed Wood) appears in the film briefly in an uncredited role as Peter Van Garrett.

Johnny Depp as Constable Ichabod Crane.

In the book, Ichabod Crane is a superstitious school teacher who lives in Sleepy Hollow, in this film version of the story, Ichabod Crane (Depp) is a young and eager constable from New York City, who has undertaken the study of new ideas in forensic methods and is often ridiculed or for his “modern” techniques, which are also sometimes viewed with skepticism by others. He is sent to Sleepy Hollow by the Burgomaster (Lee) to investigate several murders by beheading that have taken place in the town. He is welcomed warmly by most of the citizens, who are terrified about the murders are glad for his arrival. Crane is invited to stay with the Van Tassels, one of the wealthiest families in town, where he meets and becomes enamored with their lovely daughter, Katrina (Ricci).

Christina Ricci as Katrina Van Tassel

Although he learns the townsfolk believe the murders are the work of the supernatural, the somewhat science-geeky and logical police detective Crane believes that the murders are being committed by a real person, and begins his investigation, only to find his faith in science and logic increasingly threatened by the events that unfold.

Crane’s investigation casts doubts on these suspicious characters. Foreground: Notary Hardenbrook (Gough), Rev. Steenwyck (Jones), Dr.Lancaster (Ian McDiarmid) Magistrate Philipse (Griffiths) and Baltus Van Tassel (Gambon). In the background, the ill-fated Killian (Steven Waddington) gives them the stink-eye.

There is much to love about this movie; the atmosphere is splendidly dark and moody, the costumes and set design perfect in every detail, the cinematography beautiful, striking and haunting. There is a lot of Dutch and German imagery and influences in the set designs, which fits perfectly with the original story this film was based on. Headless Horsemen were staples in Northern European storytelling, featuring in German, Scandinavian and British legends and were likely the inspiration for the tale, which Irving wrote while touring Europe. The set of the village of Sleepy Hollow was constructed over a period of four months and was comprised of 12 structures, in Hambleden, a small village in Buckinghamshire, England and is perfection down to the last detail.

The quiet village of Sleepy Hollow. The entrance to the town is adorned with these fabulous stag heads atop stone columns.

Depp plays brilliantly the anti-hero Ichabod Crane, who is both intuitive and determined in his pursuits, but also haunted by his own dark past, and is a sensitive person who, ironically, gets easily frightened. Ricci is wonderful as the beautiful, charming, brave and dedicated Katrina, whose motives initially are in question, but proves to be a worthy companion and co-investigator. Miranda Richardson is unforgettable as the devious Lady Van Tassel, and Christopher Walken is creepy and menacing in his role as the Hessian.

Heads will roll. Hint: It’s because of this guy.

This really is a film that I can enjoy watching over and over. I love the pace and twists and turns of the story, with some very memorable and gruesome scenes. It’s perfect to watch on a dark night, curled up with popcorn and a cozy blanket to ward off the goosebumps. The conclusion of the movie, and the real culprit of the murders, is summed up perfectly by Ichabod’s comment early on, “Villainy wears many masks. None so dangerous as the mask of virtue.”

Word of the Day

The Author

Thanks to https://www.writerswrite.co.za/words-we-like-84/ for my Word of the Day!

Love it! I always imagine someone of “dubious character” to look like an old movie villain, skulking in the shadows, rubbing their hands together in gleeful contemplation of their evil deeds. Or like this guy in the image.

October Movie Picks (#5)

The Author

Welcome back !

The next movie on my October Movie List is one of the older ones on my list. It hails from my high school days, which, now dating myself, was in the 1980s. Sometimes I like to pretend the 80s was only twenty or so years ago just so I don’t have to think about how long ago it actually was and feel depressed.

Trick or Treat (1986) Movie Poster

Trick or Treat (1986): Directed by Charles Martin Smith

Writers: Rhet Topham, Michael S. Murphey, Joel Soisson.

Not to be confused with numerous other movies with similar ( or the same) names, like Trick r Treat, Trick or Treat (2019) or Trick or Treats, this Trick or Treat was released just a few days shy of Halloween in 1986. It was directed by Charles Martin Smith, who appears to have much more credits as an actor than directing credits.

I saw this movie in the theatre in 1986 and though I can’t specifically recall what attracted me to wanting to go see it, I am sure it likely had something to do with the fact that it was marketed towards high school age kids ( I was sixteen in 1986) and even more appealing, was a horror movie about a fictional rock musician who comes back from the dead, had a soundtrack by metal band Fastway, and cameo appearances by famous rock legends Gene Simmons and Ozzy Osbourne. Any 1980s teenager who liked rock music and horror movies, and was a fan of Kiss and Ozzy, would have been intrigued by such a combination, even though everything about the movie screamed “low budget” and it certainly wasn’t a blockbuster. I believe it was considered a flop, to be honest, though I understand that it does have something of a cult following now.

I wasn’t exactly a “metal-head” as they were often called in those days, but much like I am still today, I liked a wide variety of different kinds of music, and I was a fan not only of Ozzy, but of other bands from that era that we now usually refer to as “hair bands” or “hair metal”; Ratt, Cinderella, Motley Crue, Def Leppard and, yes, even Bon Jovi, were among my favorites. So, I suppose I was exactly the sort of teenager that was the intended demographic for this film.

Trick or Treat Original Motion Picture Soundtrack feat. “Fastway”. On cassette. Rad.

The cast, other than the guest appearances of Gene Simmons and Ozzy Osbourne, wasn’t exactly notable. One of the few actors in the cast that would have been well-known at that time to audiences was Marc Price, who played the lead character in the film, Eddie Weinbauer. Eddie also self-styled himself as ‘Ragman’ in the movie, though the reason for this nickname was never explained. Marc Price was well-known to 1980s audiences as nerdy neighbor Skippy Handelman from the very popular TV Series, Family Ties, which ran from 1982 to 1989 and made Michael J. Fox a star. In the TV series, Skippy was friends with Alex P. Keaton ( Fox) and close with the Keaton family, and most notably had a crush on Mallory Keaton ( Justine Bateman) throughout the series. Also in the cast, playing jock Tim Hainey, is actor Doug Savant, who had appeared mostly in TV series as supporting cast, like Cagney and Lacey and Knots Landing. Savant later became more well-known when he was cast in the wildly popular 1990s TV series, Melrose Place, but in 1986 he certainly wasn’t someone most audiences would have recognized. In fact, many of the actors who appeared in this film were mostly TV actors, whose careers were mostly appearances in TV series and soap operas, like Elaine Joyce, who played Eddie’s mother, Angie, and Lisa Orgolini, who played Leslie, the girl Eddie has a crush on. The director of this film, Charles Martin Smith, also appears in the movie, playing Mr. Wimbley, the school principal.

The title role of the metal rocker who comes back from the dead, Sammi Curr, was played by Tony Fields, who was a dancer, famous for his performances on the TV series, Solid Gold, and also had appeared in numerous music videos, two of them were Michael Jackson videos, “Beat It” and “Thriller”. Tony’s dance background is evident in the scenes in the film where the undead Sammi performs onstage at Lakeridge High School’s Halloween dance. He later appeared in small roles in numerous TV series but his part as Sammi Curr was probably his best-known role. He died in 1995 of AIDS-related cancer.

Sammi Curr (Fields) performs at Lakeridge High School. He has electrocuted the lead singer and is basically a demon at this point, but the students, thinking it’s all part of the Halloween theatrics, join in enthusiastically, not realizing soon Sammi will start killing them all.
Young metal-head Eddie (Marc Price) learns that his rock idol, Sammi Curr, has died in a hotel fire.

The basic premise of the movie is about high school student and metal-head Eddie (Price) whose idol is hard rock star Sammi Curr (Fields). Eddie is picked on a lot at school, and bullied by a popular jock named Tim Hainey (Savant) and Tim’s friends. He feels like an outcast, and is often angry. He considers himself Sammi’s biggest fan, and writes him numerous fan letters, feeling that he and Sammi have a lot in common because Sammi is from Eddie’s hometown and was a student at his same high school, once upon a time, and struggled ,like Eddie, with being bullied as a teen.

When Eddie learns that his idol has died in a hotel fire, he is devastated and goes to a local radio station to see a DJ he knows named Nuke ( played superbly by Gene Simmons). Nuke gives Eddie a special gift, a demo record, the only one of it’s kind, the last recording by Sammi Curr. After a particularly bad incident at a pool party, Eddie vows revenge on his tormentors and discovers that by playing Sammi Curr’s last record backwards, he can receive messages and communicate with Sammi. At first Eddie is overjoyed. With Sammi’s “advice” he is able to get back at Hainey and his cohorts, but of course, things soon turn ominous and more serious and when Hainey’s girlfriend Genie is nearly killed, Eddie tries to destroy the record, but an enraged demonic Sammi is resurrected and then goes on a rampage in the town, starting at the high school’s Halloween dance. It is now up to Eddie, with help from his friend Roger and Leslie, his crush, to save the town from the supernaturally-powered evil version of Sammi Curr.

Gene Simmons, looking surprisingly cool in a cowboy hat, as local disc jockey, Nuke.
Not-so-nice-guy and preppy jock, Tim (Savant) and his toadie, looking 80s cool in their Levi’s jeans and skinny ties.

For some reason this film always stuck with me, although I can’t say that it’s especially good and upon re-watch in later years I realized that it’s not really particularly scary or bloody either, and not really that “gory” with the exception of a couple scenes. The special effects are pretty minimal and nothing outstanding, though I liked the makeup they did for Sammi’s half-burned-off-face and his costume and hair was absolutely perfect and the epitome of the 80s ‘hair metal’ look. Perhaps I was less jaded in 1986 than I am now. Maybe the movie seemed scarier on the big screen.

Sammi (Fields) zaps into the school hallway on a bolt of blue electricity. His face has seen better days, but his leather pants and accessories are still bitchin.

Maybe I still like this movie so much because of the nostalgia factor, as cozy and comforting to me as a 1980s Huey Lewis and the News song. It’s 80s realism at it’s best; the clothes, the cars, the stereo equipment, Eddie’s Sanyo “Walkman”, even the frilly patchwork throw pillows and shag carpeting in Eddie’s house look like every house from that era. Movies and TV series of today that try to get the’ 80s look’ always seem to get it wrong and focus too much on the “fads”, dressing everyone in neon colors and side ponytails or looking like a Valley Girl or Madonna during her “Like a Virgin” phase, ( or dress completely weird in un-matching clothes, are you listening Stranger Things?) but most people looked and dressed like the actors in this film. Since I don’t imagine this movie had a big budget, I can assume that most people cast to be extras and background in this film were probably just regular locals wearing regular clothes.

I also think the very satirical addition of Ozzy Osbourne in a cameo appearance as televangelist Reverand Aaron Gilstrom, who preaches against the “evil” rockers and “sick and bizarre” lyrics and music, is still pretty hilarious. Younger people who were not alive in the 1980s may not really “get” the satire, but this movie was on point to the “fears” of that time period, that heavy metal or metal music was “satanic” and people who were fans of rock music were in danger of turning into devil-worshippers.

A very conservative-looking Ozzy Osbourne as anti-metal televangelist Rev. Aaron Gilstrom.
I found this movie art somewhere online, perhaps it was another version of the movie poster. Not sure why there are big snakes on it; snakes don’t have a significant part in this film.

It’s hard for me to pinpoint the reason for my fondness of this movie, and why I still like it despite it’s obvious shortcomings and how dated it’s become, but I suspect it’s charm lies in it’s poignancy and humor and still remains meaningful to an old 80s rocker like myself.

Word of the Day

The Author

Get ready to be more fab with your vocab!

Here is your word of the day!

“the dubious fulcrum between gambrinous and crapulous.” Crapulous. Another great word!

Have fun finding lots of opportunities to use the word of the day in your everyday conversations and be the envy of everyone!

October Movie Picks (#4)

The Author

13 days ’til Halloween, Halloween, Halloween…. 13 days ’til Halloween, Silverrrr Shamrock!!

Now that little ditty is stuck in my head, and likely yours too, if you recognize it ( it’s from the terribly awful 1982 movie Halloween III: Season of the Witch, and the only thing I really remember from the movie. It is both a figural and literal ear worm, you might say. lolz)

At any rate, it’s 13 days until Halloween, so here’s #4 of my spooky and scary movie list. This one actually is both spooky and scary. “Finally!” you say.

The Others (2001): Written and Directed by Alejandro Amenabar

This film, released in 2001, checks all the boxes for a really good “old-fashioned”, you might say, Gothic-style, haunted house frightener.

The writer and director of The Others is Chilean-born Alejandro Amenabar. His father was from Chile, his mother a Spaniard. Amenabar lived most of his life in Madrid. He is mostly known to American audiences because of the film, Vanilla Sky (2001). Starring Tom Cruise, Cameron Diaz and Penelope Cruz, Vanilla Sky was based off of his 1997 film, Abre Los Ojos, which he wrote and directed. The American “version”, which became Vanilla Sky, was directed by James Cameron, who Amenabar counts as one of his favorite directors. Amenabar also composes the music for all of his movies, having taught himself to write music using a computer software program.

The Others cast includes top actress Nicole Kidman (Moulin Rouge, Cold Mountain, Big Little Lies), veteran Irish character actress, Fionnula Flannagan (Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood), Christopher Eccleston (Doctor Who, Shallow Grave) and Alakina Mann and James Bentley.

The movie has a rather slow beginning, but keeps your interest, and gives plenty of curious incidents, peculiar behavior and spooky vibes early on, along with an unrelenting dark atmosphere and almost desolate setting for the film, which is a rather isolated country estate in Jersey, the largest island in the Channel Islands. The Channel Islands are an archipelago of islands in the English Channel, just off the coast of Normandy, France. The large estate and it’s grounds are surrounded by woods and fields almost always shrouded in fog and shadows.

The year is 1945, the tail end of World War II. The Channel Islands were the only part of the British Isles that were occupied by Germany during the war. The British government demilitarised the islands in June 1940, and the lieutenant-governors were withdrawn on June 21, leaving the insular administrations to continue government as best they could under impending military occupation, so the few residents of Jersey who did not evacuate are almost cut off from the rest of the world as they await the end of the war and liberation. In fact, they do not even have electricity anymore, or get mail delivery. Grace Stewart (Kidman) and her two children, with a few servants, live in almost complete isolation, awaiting her husband, Charles, to return from the war. Grace has not heard from her husband for some time, and she is fearful that he is dead. In the beginning scene, three servants arrive at the estate to inquire about employment, where Grace tells them that she is in dire straits as her previous servants “disappeared” suddenly and without warning in the night. Mrs. Mills (Flannagan) is hired on as the housekeeper, Mr. Tuttle (Eric Sykes) as the gardener and Lydia ( Elaine Cassidy), who is mute, is hired as a maid.

Mr. Tuttle (Sykes), Lydia ( Cassidy) and Mrs. Mills (Flanagan) meet their new employer.

As Grace shows Mrs. Mills around the house and explains what her duties will be, Grace reveals that her two children, Anne (Mann) and Nicholas (Bentley) have a rare disorder that makes them photosensitive to light, and so, there is a complex ( and rather strange) set of rules that must be followed when moving between the various rooms in the huge house, regarding the curtains and the sequences of locking doors. Grace is rather adamant in her insistence that the rules must be followed to the letter and she becomes visibly upset, almost hysterical, when she perceives that rules are not being followed as she has directed. Grace is deeply religious and at times strict with her children, and the household has a very oppressive feel; her constant fear that her children will be exposed to sunlight and die and her worry about her husband and their situation is palpable. Her fragile state soon becomes even more fragile when strange occurrences begin to manifest; strange noises, voices, curtains that are supposed to be closed in a locked room are inexplicably open, sending Grace into hysteria. Her daughter Anne (Mann) tells her that the voices belong to a boy named Victor, and that she has seen him and his family and that they live in the house, they claim the house “belongs” to them in fact, which prompts Grace to punish Anne, at first, for “telling tales” until Grace begins to hear the voices herself.

Grace (Kidman) and her children during a study hour in the pervasive darkness.

The ambiguity of the three servants and their motives, who appeared so suddenly ( and mysteriously, since there is no mail delivery and hence, no newspapers to advertise in) adds further to the suspense and that they seem to have some sort of connection to the house in the past (and to the previous servants) is unsettling and makes the viewer begin to question whether they are friend or foe.

Many of the scenes take place at night and thus, are appropriately spooky, but there are also many which take place in the day time, but because of the childrens’ asserted medical condition and the always heavily shuttered windows, there is a pervasive dark atmosphere throughout the film, with plenty of shadows and dark corners that may harbor any sort of eerie presence. There are also many rooms and corridors in the large estate house, many of them un-used or utilized for storage, the furnishings within shrouded in ghostly dust-cloths, all which add a sense of unease.

Anne and Nicholas out in the foggy and dark grounds of the estate.

Kidman does a wonderful job as the intense, yet fragile Grace, who seems to be hovering always on the brink of a breakdown even before the mysterious occurrences start in the household. Dealing with the daunting medical condition of her children, at the same time trying to see to their education (since there is no school for them to attend), the uncertainty of her husband’s fate, the isolation and loneliness, and the fear that Nazis might show up on their doorstep at any moment all contribute to her personal turmoil.

She believes there are intruders in her home, and her lack of success at finding the intruders or explain who or what is responsible for the increasingly frightening incidents and other disturbing discoveries, drives her to fear for her life, as well as her children’s lives, and she takes more drastic steps to protect them. At the same time her temper becomes increasingly short, even erratic.

Alakina Mann does a superb job as the sometimes willful Anne, who tries her mother’s patience on many occasions, and wishes for more freedom from her mother’s strictness, and is frustrated by her mother’s punishments. James Bentley is excellent as Grace’s young son Nicholas, who is often petulant for having to always stay indoors and is too young to really understand much of why they have to live as they do and at times is too needy for Grace’s nerves, which are increasingly on edge. Fionnula Flanagan as the ambiguous Mrs. Mills also greatly enhances the story.

The film has a handful of well done shock sequences. This one was the creepiest.

The story is, in conclusion, quite a good one–a good old fashioned ghost tale, with a period-perfect mansion and costumes, strong acting, spooky and spine-chilling scenes and an unexpected twist ending. It’s one of my favorites, that I can still watch without being bored, even if I already know how it ends.

As director and writer Alejandro Amenabar himself has said, “I don’t consider myself a dark person. I just like to play with dark characters.” This film perfectly fits the bill.

Word of the Day

The Author

Want to put more fab into your vocab?

Here’s your word of the day!

Try using it in a sentence. Or not. I’m not a popinjay, so I won’t be offended! (ha!,see what I did there?)

October Movie Picks (#3)

The Author

Welcome back! Maybe you have already checked out my two previous movie pick posts, #1 and #2, and are ready to check out #3 on my list, maybe you haven’t, but fear not, I won’t take it personally. If you have, hopefully you find yourself intrigued and wonder, “What comes next? I’m on pins and needles!” Again, this list is not ranked in any order; it’s totally random. Totally. A word which fits really well with the next film on my list.

The Final Girls movie poster

The Final Girls ( 2015): Directed by Todd Strauss-Schulson

Writers: M. A. Fortin, Joshua John Miller.

            Apparently, I like “horror” films that basically poke fun at the whole genre, since I am adding yet another film to my list that fits this same bill; The Final Girls, directed by Todd Strauss-Schulson.

Strauss-Schulson also directed another film I found quite hilarious, Isn’t It Romantic (2019) which stars Rebel Wilson as a young woman who hates romantic comedies but suddenly finds herself in one. The film also stars Adam Devine and Liam Hemsworth.

The writers of The Final Girls, M.A. Fortin and Joshua John Miller, are apparently both work and romantic partners, and their other works includes a TV series, Queen of the South, and a 2021 movie starring Russell Crowe, The Georgetown Project. Other interesting tidbits–Joshua Miller is actor Jason Patric’s half-brother and his father, Jason Miller, played Father Karras in The Exorcist ( 1973), which apparently was one of Joshua’s inspirations for the screenplay for The Final Girls; seeing his father’s character die onscreen made him wonder what it would be like to act in a film with his father.

The Final Girls was released in 2015 but it was a couple of years before I came across it, as a “Recommended for You” by Netflix. The cast includes some well-known faces, Taissa Farmiga ( American Horror Story, The Bling Ring)  the younger sister of actress Vera Farmiga, (and could be Vera’s younger clone, the resemblance is that close) Malin Akerman ( The Numbers Station, 27 Dresses, Rock of Ages) Adam Devine (Pitch Perfect, Workaholics, Arrested Development), Alia Shawkat (Whip It, Big Mouth, Robot Chicken) and Nina Dobrev, (Vampire Diaries).

            The premise of this movie centers around high-schooler Max Cartwright (Farmiga) who is grieving the loss of her mother, Amanda (Akerman), a somewhat failed actress, who, as a young woman in 1986, appeared in a slasher film called “Camp Bloodbath”, which became something of a cult classic in later years, much to Amanda’s chagrin, as she once had higher hopes for her acting career and for years had struggled with her “one claim to fame”, that of a scream queen in a cheesy 80’s horror film.

Three years after her mother’s death in a car crash, Max reluctantly joins her friends, Gertie (Shawkat) and Duncan (Thomas Middleditch), at a tribute screening of  “Camp Bloodbath 1” and the sequel, “Camp Bloodbath 2”, where she also meets up with a fellow classmate, Chris (Alexander Ludwig), a potential love interest. Also in attendance, unfortunately, is Chris’ jealous ex-girlfriend and resident mean girl, Vicki ( Dobrev). During the movie screening, a fire breaks out in the theatre and the five of them escape through the movie screen after Max cuts it open with a prop machete, and all five are, somehow, accidently sucked into the movie itself and find themselves trapped in “Camp Bloodbath 1”.

After a bit of confusion as to what happened to them and where they are, Max and her friends realize they are in the movie, at the entrance of Camp Blue Finch, the fictional summer camp in “Camp Bloodbath”, in the very first scene, and soon realize they must team up with the fictional ( and ill-fated) camp counselors to battle the film’s machete-wielding masked killer, Billy Murphy ( very obviously modeled after Jason Vorhees).

Max and her friends, realizing they are now part of the movie.
L to R, Chris (Alexander Ludwig), Max (Taissa Farmiga), Vicki, (Nina Dobrev), Duncan (Thomas Middleditch) and Gertie (Alia Shawkat).

Max is also stunned to come face to face with her mother (Akerman) in this movie-world, even though her mother in this place is just the character she played in the movie; shy, but good-hearted camp counselor, Nancy. Max and her friends try to use their knowledge of the horror movie genre and the story line of “Camp Bloodbath”, which they know well, to try and survive, and also, defeat, the seemingly un-killable Billy, in hopes that this will enable them to return to their real lives in the real world.

The ill-fated camp counselors at ‘Camp Blue Finch’, the fictional setting for the movie, “Camp Bloodbath”.
Nancy/Amanda Cartwright (Akerman).

The film is a deliciously witty parody of so-cheesy-you-need-to-eat-Ritz-crackers-while-you watch-them 80’s slasher films, with plenty of pokes at classic slice n’dice films, most notably the “Friday the 13th” movies, and there is no shortage of cliches (including the inevitable “have sex and you die” cliché), meta-moments, 80’s era slang and music, and summer camp murder movie stereotypical, yet amusing, characters; like horn-dog Kurt (Devine) and dumb bimbo, Tina (Angela Trimbur) who were both so good in their roles you wished that they had been able to stick around longer ( but alas, as we all know, a high body count that includes main ensemble characters, in slasher films, is a musthave).

Kurt (Adam Devine) gets bent. Literally.

The movie, while wickedly tongue-in-cheek, also has some very heart-felt moments, between Max and Nancy, the character her mother played in the movie, and you feel genuinely for Max and how much she misses her mom. In fact, it is Max’s reaction, her desire to save her mother’s character, Nancy, from being killed by the twisted Billy, that changed the timeline of events in this movie-within-a-movie to begin with, and Max and her friends spend the rest of the film not only trying to save themselves, but to try and convince the characters to become proactive.

For those not in the know, the term “final girl” is a trope in horror movies, referring to the female protagonist who remains alive at the end of the film, after the other characters have been killed, when she is usually placed in a position to confront the killer. Well-known “final girls” in classic slasher films are Laurie Strode (played by Jamie Lee Curtis) in the original Halloween movies, and Sally Hardesty, (portrayed by Marilyn Burns) in 1974’s  The Texas Chain Saw Massacre.

Max (Farmiga) takes on Billy, as ‘The Final Girl’.

Taissa Farmiga deftly plays the sweet, sad, and wistful-turned brash badass Max Cartwright, as she prepares to take the role of the “Final Girl” and Malin Akerman shines as Amanda/Nancy. While this movie was mainly a spoof, and had many comedic moments, there was great heart in Max’s learning to accept her terrible loss and cherishing the moments she did have with her mother, and perhaps, through the meeting of her onscreen version of her mother, Nancy, get a glimpse of the young, hopeful actor her mother had once been.

October Movie Picks (#2)

The Author

“The Dead Don’t Die” (2019)

So, you’ve come back for more…..congratulations! You’ve won nothing but my undying respect!

As I mentioned in my #1 post, I am making a list of some favorite “spooky, scary or just plain weird” movies just in time for Halloween. By the way, the numbering sequence has nothing to do with it’s level of ‘favoritism’. I am listing them totally at random… because why not?

As you may have noticed already, the movie art in the top image gives away the next movie on my list.

Bill Murray, Chloe Sevigny and Adam Driver strike a pose in “The Dead Don’t Die” as Centerville police officers, Chief Cliff Robertson, Officer Mindy Morrison and Officer Ronnie Peterson.

The Dead Don’t Die: ( 2019): Written and Directed by Jim Jarmusch

            In the premise of this movie, which starts out with a very familiar and typical zombie-horror-movie feel, but soon veers off onto it’s own little odd track, thankfully, we see the peaceful small town of Centerville battling a zombie horde as the dead start to rise from their graves.

            With a powerhouse cast that includes Bill Murray, Adam Driver, Steve Buscemi, Danny Glover, Rosie Perez, Chloe Sevigny and Tilda Swinton, even one who has long been bored by zombie movies and TV shows and their sameness (in this case, I am referring to myself), will find their interest piqued when reading the list of talented actors in this film, which was written and directed by Jim Jarmusch, who also has some acting credits to his name.

Like M. Night Shyamalan, as I previously mentioned, and Wes Anderson, another director I admire very much, Jarmusch seems to have certain actors that he likes to work with on consecutive projects and whom, presumably, like to work with him.  Murray has worked with Jarmusch on several films, so has Driver, who was the lead in Paterson, Jarmusch’s 2016 film about a bus driver named Paterson, who lives in Paterson, NJ and writes poetry. The iconoclastic Tilda Swinton, who plays a rather bizarre, katana-wielding mortician in The Dead Don’t Die , starred alongside Tom Hiddleston in Jarmusch’s 2013 film, Only Lovers Left Alive, which featured vampires, though it’s not really your typical vampire flick, much like The Dead Don’t Die isn’t exactly your typical zombie movie.

Is it perhaps then a ‘signature’ of Jarmusch to take something familiar, something ordinary, and find a new way to spin a story in a more offbeat way? Or was he merely making this film to amuse himself, a satirical look at archetypical zombie movies with a metaphorical commentary on modern society thrown in for good measure?  The characters are definitely offbeat—even quirky or downright weird (Tilda Swinton’s character, Zelda, comes to mind) and the plot lines and arcs don’t go where you thought they were going. Though I don’t want to give away too much on spoilers, in the scene in the cemetery where Zelda Winston (Swinton) arrives as the town is about to be completely decimated by the zombies, all signs point to her arrival being some kind of saving grace for the town. It is not. I was left open-mouthed and then amused ( privately asking ‘WTF?’)  by what actually happened, and I had to chuckle at myself for being tricked into thinking something else. I still think of that scene and have a bemused laugh about it. I believe the people of Centerville had very much the same reaction as I did.

Another thing that set the plot of the story on an unforeseen path was the introduction of characters that appeared to signify they would play a larger role in the movie, that they would be part of the “main” character group, and as I watched, expected to see where they fit into the story, what place they would occupy in the zombie battle, only to see them unexpectedly killed a scene or two later, their part of the story at an end before it hardly began. It was quite surprising and unconventional, but then, much about this movie was exactly that.

I think in general this movie would be another one that either you understood it for what it was meant to be, and loved it, or thought it was going to be something else entirely and felt cheated somehow and hated it. I personally got a kick out of it and loved it. If you have ever watched any of Jim Jarmusch’s other films, this one, in all other respects, is not much different—whimsical, ironic, dialogue-heavy, slow paced, strange, absurd and funny all at once. Fans of the dark comedy/horror genre will find it to their taste, and it has just enough zombie-killing-beheading and gore that I feel it warrants a place on my Spooky October Movie List.

As for how the film ends ( spoiler alert!), well, the title, The Dead Don’t Die, practically gives it away.