Sometimes this blog will just be HALLOOOOWEEN! And the Punishment Poll from "Mr. Sardonicus".

 Remember this? 

 

 Or this?

 

 Or who could ever forget this?

 Yes, disparage the pioneer of "Percepto" and "Emergo" all you like, every horror film William Castle made had at least a couple of images that were unforgettable, for one reason or another, whether or not your seat was wired to buzz, or a luminous skeleton trolleyed over your date's head. Even Castle would grow sick of gimmicks however, so when Columbia Pictures demanded one be included in his historical thriller Mr. Sardonicus, he came up with the "Punishment Poll". Just before the film's final reel Castle himself would appear onscreen and ask the audience to vote for whether the rictus-afflicted anti-hero should receive his come-uppance, or mercy.

 Only one ending was shot.

 

 

 Happy Hallowe'en then, my old Unattendees! If that didn't get you in the mood, why not watch the opening fifty seconds of Castle's House On Haunted Hill with the volume way up? Or there are still the remains of my Frankenstein Countdown to polish off, so here's what I wrote about 1945's House of Dracula: 

“Erle C. Kenton's House of Dracula does not bear close examination, if any. It is a bad film.” 

 And here is even more of what I wrote! Fortunately three years later Frankenstein would be met by Abbott and Costello and you can read my thoughts on that encounter HERE, along with whether or not it would become the most influential film ever made, because I can't remember. 

 Please don't be too frightened!

 

The Secret of Comedy 4:20am

The secret of comedy's not what you think.

It turns out there actually are two types of people: listeners and broadcasters. Neither type is more polite than the other, although it is polite to listen. But listeners aren't being patient – they just prefer to listen.

So here's the secret: Listeners are more likely to find other listeners funny, and broadcasters self-indulgent. Broadcasters are more likely to find other broadcasters funny, and listeners self-indulgent.

In other words, someone's always going to find you self-indulgent.

DEATH RAY WEEK day 3: Actually this one turns you into shopping

The following short is a favourite at my Dad's film evenings in Puisallicon and features one of the dirtiest women ever to appear in cartoons (and the thirties were full of them). "Whopper" here I think means fib: 

 

 

In other news, the wedding of Hannah Lou to Trevor Moss in Wandsworth Town Hall yesterday was a paragon, a paean, a peach. We all sat in the Council Chamber playing with our flip out desks, enjoying the soft, Godless strains of Salt and Blue, and when Hannah walked she looking so young. They both looked so young. They are young. They fell in love young. Trevor's moustache (a lot of us had moustaches) only made him look younger, and his father was the best man and even he looked young. The best man speech at the Ivy House would later make me break my pledge.

And soon they'll be off to honeymoon in Finland (where the finals of the Mad Scientist's Laugh Competition are held). Bishop had begun to plan for his own wedding. Hiring a fake groom seemed like a good idea, then Bish could make a dramatic entrance through a window when the time came to ask if anyone knew of any lawful impediment. Heidi C. Mace said she actually knew someone who hires herself out daily as a shotgun-wielding, pregnant wedding-crasher. There is a market.

I found a payslip in my trouser pocket walking home that night through Peckham Rye. I'm finding payslips all over the place these days. That's the really insidious thing about a regular job, I realized: waiting for the payslip. You shouldn't be waiting for the end of the week. Time should not pass quickly. Good for Hannah and Trev.

 

(originally posted on myspace here)