So this post is really in response to a conversation a few days ago between myself, Anna, Lola, and Minerva.
If you're reading through and thinking, "There must be an in-joke here," you're absolutely right -- there is! But feel free to make up your own.
And these movies aren't in order -- unless you count "what I thought of as I was walking home" as order.
Dog Soldiers. "Why, yes, please come take shelter in my way-the-hell-back-in-the-woods family home. Which is deserted, now you come to mention it. And also smack in the middle of Scottish werewolf country. And...by the way...did I mention....I have really big teeth?"
whole post about how much I hate this movie, but in terms of demonstrating why road trips will always end in bloody, bloody death, Carriers is a pretty solid example: four charming young things decide to go on an alcohol-soaked road trip -- to...Vegas? Reno? I can't even remember -- and end up as one of the lone surviving groups in an infected and deadly world. You know who ends up living? The whiny younger brother and the truly bitchy self-serving girl. Thanks, movie, for destroying those stereotypes for us. Well done. *headdesk*
The classic, of course, Psycho. "Gee, I guess I haven't checked in on Mom lately..."
In the Mouth of Madness. Weekend road trip to quiet New England town? Sounds fantastic! In search of reclusive famous author? Great! Beautiful scenery? Check! Cosy B 'n B? Absolutely. Demons from beyond the brink of comprehension coming to twist your soul and devour your every thought? Of cou--wait a minute, what?
It Waits. Awful thing happens. You retreat with your pain to a distant fire-station in the beautiful remote wilderness. And what happens? A huge flesh-eating revenge demon bursts out of its long-buried cave to come play with you. Will you and your helpful pet parrot survive? Well...
Curse of the Komodo. (Yes, I watched it. No, I'm not proud of it -- I was severely depressed, okay?!) Relaxing weekend on spa island? Nope, giant genetically mutated komodo dragons with -- and get this -- infectious disease spit. *sigh* Plus, lets discuss the quality of the computer animation -- if the dragons don't scare you (which they shouldn't) you may very well laugh yourself into a conniption at the "My teenage brother did it last night" quality of the effects.
And last but not least (in this version of the list, anyway):
28 Weeks Later. Here's a note for all the rest of you who plan to survive the apocalypse: if you abandon your wife to a horde of flesh-eating disease victims, don't look back. Just don't. Don't go pick up your kids at the train station; don't try to make nicey-nice like this is all fine; and above all, if you do feel the need to try and rebuild the shattered remnants of your family, don't, for the love of God and everyone else in your tiny, disease-free citadel, lie about what happened to your wife. Because, if you do, it will not end well. She will come back; and you will try to kiss her hello; and -- well, to put it simply, have you ever heard of Typhoid Mary?
And to the kids: when you return from abroad to your disease-ravaged and strangely deserted home city, don't go home. Just...don't. Ever.