Not much to say other than enjoy Part Two of Horror’s Not Dead’s 2008 Retrospective, Festivus celebrating extravaganza.

Oh, and Happy Kwanzaa.

Part 1: January to March.
Part 2: April to June.
Part 3: July to September.
Part 4: October to December.
Part 5: Events. (coming)
Part 6: Awards. (coming)

Last Week in Horror was some kind of post-ComicCon orgy of news.  Either this was all left over from the con and took a week to rise to the top or PR folk knew their news wasn’t big enough to rock a convention and thus waited a week.  Whatever the case, I feel like this post took longer to gather than most.

Xingu Films announced AMERICAN REAPER, which is a sci-fi film whose concept I love.  John Carpenter got a non-horror directing gig, which is the best thing for him these days, if you ask me.  Which you did.  Some GHOSTBUSTERS rumors.  Two people who yet to impress me may muck up my beloved Alexandre Aja remake of PIRANHA.  Lionsgate is fielding all kinds of heat in the fallout of their guided MIDNIGHT MEAT TRAIN release debacle.

But most importantly.  THE THING!  Remade!  As a music video!

Directed by John Landis, 2008
Written by Victor Salva

Is it fair to say that John Landis has fallen from grace?  Judging from his episode of “FEAR ITSELF”, yes.  Yes. Far, far from grace.  Eons from grace.  Fallen through time, through space, to some twilit zone where Landis is a sleep walking, brain dead, unoriginal, talentless know nothing who isn’t even worthy of helming an episode of “RED SHOE DIARIES”.

IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH is 42 minutes of the most creatively bankrupt television possible.  I wish that was an exaggeration, but it isn’t.  It is worthless in every sense of the word.  I can’t believe I’m still writing about it and I’m only a handful of sentences into the review.   I badly want to escape the memory of this draining wound filled with dialog of an epic staleness.

I just heard two distant thumps on the opposite side of my pitch black house.  Those two thumps, which I’m sure my cats were responsible for, were scarier than anything in this rotten cow patty.   Actually, you know what, I hope it wasn’t my cats.  I hope it was a person who grabbed my axe from downstairs.  I hope it was a ghost.  I, a soul deathly afraid of aliens, hope it was E.T. incarnate come to take me away to an eternal hell of probing.  I hope whatever caused those two distant thumps rushes in this room and causes me such trauma I forget IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH ever stole every ounce of respect I once had for John Landis.