Anthony Darnell

Here's a 30-minute segment of Killer Workout's performance at The Sunset on Saturday, February 23 celebrating Ballard VOX's 2nd Anniversary. We were so hot to start, we set the fire alarm off for a minute.

The Magnificent Horror of Poltergeist

In the pantheon of 80s horror movies, Poltergeist is oft-overlooked.

At a time when gore-filled slashers were in vogue—thanks in part to the success of the Friday the 13th and Halloween film series—Poltergeist relied on a simple, Grimms’ Fairy Tales-esque plot to deliver its frights. Exploring universal themes of love, death, and greed, Poltergeist is the rare family horror film that doesn't pander explicitly to children.

In fact, some horror aficionados may be shocked to learn that the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) initially branded Poltergeist with an R rating. Upon appeal by producer Steven Spielberg and director Tobe Hooper, it was downgraded to a PG rating without any changes being made to the film. The PG-13 rating would not be used until two years later in 1984 for Red Dawn. In a strange twist of irony, the PG-13 rating was created due to the outrage Spielberg’s PG-rated Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom generated; audiences felt like it was too mature for a PG rating, but not mature enough for an R rating. As it stands, Poltergeist is probably the only PG-rated film you’ll see where a man rips his own face apart, parents casually smoke pot, and children are put in actual harm’s way. The 80s were a different time, man.

Released on June 4, 1982, Poltergeist was an immediate box office success (to the tune of $76 million) and spawned two sequels, but it’s impact and popularity have waned in the inter-meaning years. This is in part due to the directorial controversy and high-profile deaths of cast members Dominique Dunn and Heather O’Rourke that surround the film, but also because Poltergeist’s storytelling formula has been repeated and parodied ad nauseam. Even if you’ve never seen Poltergeist before, you will most likely know its most famous lines and plot twists. “They’re here,” is practically synonymous with all things paranormal.

Poltergeist was initially conceived as a dark horror sequel to Spielberg’s 1977 film Close Encounters of the Third Kind called Night Skies. When Night Skies was eventually scrapped, the material developed at the time was used in both Poltergeist and E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial.

Tobe Hooper is also the director behind the infamous 1974 horror film The Texas Chainsaw Massacre—one of the best and most influential movies of all time. When Spielberg initially approached him to direct Poltergeist, Hooper suggested combining the sci-fi elements from Night Skies with a ghost story. While Spielberg was shooting Raiders of the Lost Ark, they collaborated via mail and developed the first treatment of Poltergeist. At the time, however, it was known as Night Time—an obvious reference to the abandoned Night Skies.

Set in the fictional Orange County, California suburb of Cuesta Verde, Poltergeist follows the Freeling family’s experience with the paranormal and their eventual quest to rescue Carol Anne—the youngest Freeling sibling—from a different “sphere of consciousness” that’s inhabited by ghosts and a dark presence that’s simply referred to as “the beast.” In essence, Carol Anne has been sucked into the television and they can only communicate with her when the channel is set to static. Parapsychologists are called in to investigate the phenomena, but they eventually turn to the aid of a spiritual medium, Tangina, for guidance in rescuing Carol Anne. With Tangina’s assistance, the Freelings are able to rescue Carol Anne and the house is declared “clean” of all spirits. But just as soon as they thought their troubles were behind them, the spirits are back with a vengeance; the Freeling household is swallowed into nothingness and they flee Cuesta Verde in their station wagon.

Word to the wise: don’t build your house on top of ancient Indian burial ground; and, if you do, be sure to move the headstones and the bodies when you relocate the cemetery.

The cast of Poltergeist was made up of relative unknowns and, since audiences weren’t familiar with these actors, it lent the film an extra layer of authenticity—you didn’t have any preconceived notions of them as performers. Craig T. Nelson, who plays the Reagan-loving patriarch Steven Freeling, would find later success on the television series Coach and most recently as the voice of Mr. Incredible in The Incredibles film series, but audiences weren’t familiar with him in 1982. The cast of the 2015 remake of Poltergeist featured Sam Rockwell and Rosemarie DeWitt. If you compare the 1982 and 2015 versions of Poltergeist, you’ll see why this extra layer of authenticity is important in making the story more engrossing and believable.

The score of Poltergeist was written by veteran film composer Jerry Goldsmith. If you don’t know Goldsmith’s name, you’ve definitely heard his work before; Goldsmith is the composer behind Star Trek, The Omen, Planet of the Apes, Logan’s Run, Patton, Hoosiers, Total Recall, Basic Instinct, Rudy, L.A. Confidential, and The Mummy, to name a few of his most notable compositions. In Poltergeist, Goldsmith seems to be channeling Elmer Bernstein’s famous score from To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s poignant and dramatic without venturing into cheesiness—it’s something that other 80s movies of this ilk had a hard time with. Cough, cough, Ladyhawke, cough, cough.

Special effects for Poltergeist were done by George Lucas’ Industrial Light and Magic (ILM) under the direction of Visual Effects Supervisor, Richard Edlund (Ghostbusters; The Empire Strikes Back; Big Trouble in Little China). At a time when practical effects were standard, the visual effects sequences in Poltergeist have aged remarkably well. Notably, however, a scene in which objects fly around the children’s bedroom will play as hokey and unrealistic to modern audiences.

In a technically impressive, utterly insane, and harrowing opening sequence, Overlord starts in the skies over Normandy on June 5, 1944—it’s the eve of D-Day. Where Steven Spielberg’s Saving Private Ryan showed us the horrific reality experienced by the soldiers who fought on the beaches, Overlord shows us the seldom-explored nightmare in the clouds.

In Overlord, a squad of paratroopers is sent to destroy a German radio tower in an old church, but before they reach their destination, their plane is shot down. Only a few of them survive and it’s this ragtag team who has to complete the mission.

They’re led by the battled-hardened, seen-it-all-before Cpl. Ford. It’s an archetypal character we’ve seen many times before, but it’s played with aplomb by Wyatt Russell—who just happens to be the son of action/horror movie icon Kurt Russell. Wyatt looks and sounds uncannily like his father, and Cpl. Ford has both the swagger of Snake Plissken (Escape from New York) and the sardonic sneer of R. J. MacReady (The Thing). Yeah, he’s one bad-ass mother fucker.

Our main character, however, is Pvt. Ed Boyce (Jovan Adepo). Boyce is a greenhorn kid who’s not quite up to the challenges about to come his way, but his moral compass may prove to be enough to see him through.

Along the way, they meet up with Chloe (Mathilde Ollivier), a French civilian, who guides them to their final destination. Chloe’s character is a little uneven; she’s introduced as a knife-wielding scavenger but deteriorates into a damsel-in-distress. I would have liked to have seen that tough-as-nails attitude carried throughout.

Pilou Asbæk, who portrays Euron Greyjoy in the television series Game of Thrones, is our main Nazi baddy. Asbæk is given the room to show his impressive range with scenery-chewing monologues and a devilish, hulking presence. It’s a fiendish and note-perfect performance.

But what appears to be a by-the-numbers WWII action flick, quickly turns into a B-movie horror/action hybrid.  Remember that German radio tower in the old church?  Well, it also houses a secret Nazi lab where they’re trying to develop a serum that can bring dead soldiers back to life. And, of course, the serum also gives them super strength and an insatiable desire to dominate and destroy their enemy.

With shades of 28 Days Later and Hostel, this is where the real fun begins. It’s a genre mashup that twists the standard WWII plotline in an unexpected and interesting manner. This is something that producer J.J. Abrams and his production company Bad Robot have become known for—there’s 10 Cloverfield Lane and its predecessor Cloverfield, for instance. And director Julius Avery pulls it all off with elegant camera work and concise storytelling to boot.

Last year, Get Out successfully explored systemic racism through genre and this was a missed opportunity in Overlord. Pvt. Boyce is black, and one would expect this to be a big issue in 1944. Remarkably, the Nazis and his fellow soldiers take no issue with this at any point in the movie. It’s weird. Taking a stance on it would have elevated this movie from good to great by allowing it to resonate with the present day. Overlord completely glosses over it.

Don’t let that deter you from seeing Overlord in the theatres; it’s a wild, heart-attack-inducing ride that should be experienced with a crowd on the big screen. You’ll laugh, you’ll shout, and you’ll pump your fists when Wyatt Russell delivers a too-cool-for-school one-liner.

Best of the Worst

This is an amazing Best of the Worst poster by David Henry Lantz.

If you're looking for a book recommendation, I recently finished Ken Greenhall’s Hell Hound. It’s stunning. Think Shirley Jackson meets Ernest Hemingway by way of Stephen King. It's horror, but it's that slow, seething, and spine-chilling kind of horror that gets under your skin and burns your heart.

The sidewalks of Seattle are a battlefield. A leisurely stroll downtown quickly turns into a high-stakes game of pedestrian Frogger. You bob and weave; you dash and dart; you stop and go. As Seattleites, we champion and support many causes, but, when our feet hit the pavement, our consideration and respect for others flies out the window.

Simply put: Seattle’s sidewalk etiquette sucks serious shit.

I’m being flippant, but this isn’t a trivial matter. Our opinion of the people around us is greatly informed by these brief and subtle interactions and, ergo, they inform our perspective of the world.

I don’t want to get too hippy-dippy or venture into self-help guru territory, but we can make these interactions better.

More positive.

More affirming.

Less self-centered.

So, put those pitchforks and torches away, quell the mob, take a deep breath and relax because—just like Frankenstein’s monster—I only have good intentions.

For those of you who don’t know, it’s possible to walk the streets of Seattle without being a douche canoe. If you’re assuming that doesn’t apply to you, you’re probably part of the problem. It’s easily remedied, however. Don’t be a jerk, stay aware, and follow these simple guidelines.

The Phalanx

Holy shit! The Spartans are advancing with pikes and shields in a phalanx formation! It’s just like that movie 300! Is that Gerard Butler? I was wondering where he’s been lately. Oh, wait—my bad—that’s a group of four people who don’t know how to share the sidewalk and are refusing to make room for my single-wide ass.

Never, under any circumstance, should you walk four-people-wide on a busy sidewalk. Two is the absolute maximum.

Next time I see this, I’m seriously considering shouting, “Red Rover, Red Rover, send Anthony over!” and charging full-speed ahead.

Your Over-Stuffed Backpack Hits Other People

Did you just get back from that super awesome hiking trip to Iceland? That’s rad! You’re so privileged (wink, wink).

You may have forgotten about this during your sojourn into isolation, but other people still exist. If you make a quick turn with that 2-foot-long battering ram on your back, you can hit someone. Watch out! 

Pretend You’re a Car—Walk on the Right

Were you listening to me, Neo, or were you looking at the woman walking on the wrong side of the fucking sidewalk?

I’ve always assumed this was an unspoken rule: you walk on the right side of the sidewalk. I’ve lived in Seattle for more than a decade, and, I can tell you with utmost certainty, we’re definitely not on the same page when it comes to this unspoken rule.

The sidewalks of Seattle are chaos. People walk directly at you and they wander willy-nilly without intent or purpose. In some parts of the country, they call it “moseying.” That’s cool and all, but if you’re gonna do that, just walk on the right side of the sidewalk and not directly at me. That’s all I ask. It’ll make everyone’s life 1,000% easier. Guaranteed.

Seriously though, if this is all you take away from this article and you actually put it into practice, I will die happy.

Your Dog Isn’t Special

Your dog’s leash doesn’t need to stretch across the entire fucking sidewalk. Reel that shit in.

Fuck You & Your Goddamn Phone

As a society, we’re still figuring out how to appropriately handle our smartphones in the workplace, when we’re socializing IRL, and when we’re out and about in public. When is it appropriate to update your social media? Why are you checking your feed right now? Is this worth posting? Should you “Like” that comment? Does [INSERT YOUR ROMANTIC INTEREST HERE] still love you? Why don’t they call? You’re walking to the grocery store and there are people right behind you—should you text your romantic interest right now?

No.

You should definitely not text them right now.

And, if you absolutely need to, stop and move to the side. By moving aside, you will 1.) text them faster and 2.) stay out of the way of other people.

If you’re using your phone while walking, you’re walking at a slower pace—which annoys the people around you. Plus, it’s dangerous. You could get hit by a goddamn car.

As a general rule of thumb, if whatever task you’re performing on your phone takes longer than 5-10 seconds to complete, stop and move aside.

There are Bike Lanes for a Reason

That’s it. Use the bike lane. Thanks. 

I Don’t Care About Your Stupid Photo

If you were Annie Lebovitz, Robert Mapplethorpe, or even Ansel Adams, I might care about your stupid photo, but, look in the mirror jackass, you’re not them.

Have you ever noticed that amateur photographers choose busy intersections to take a photo of their family? They expect everyone else to stop whatever they’re doing until they’ve captured their shot.

There’s a word for that, isn’t there? Oh, yeah, that’s right. That’s called “bullshit.”

I can’t stop, won’t stop. And neither should you. Walk right through their stupid goddamn family photo opp. Don’t worry. You’re not ruining anything. In this day and age, the vast majority of people use digital cameras and they can take another photo until their heart’s content.

Only a douche canoe thinks they should stop the flow of pedestrian traffic to take a photo. Don’t be that douche canoe. Move to the side—or pick a different location altogether—to take your photo.

Don’t Stand in the Middle Part 1: You Can Wait for the Bus and Not Be in the Way

Excuse me, sir, is that a wall over there? Oh, it is? Why don’t you go and stand against it until your bus arrives? Thanks.

Don’t Stand in the Middle Part 2: Your Friendship Circle Jerk

It happens to everyone. You’re walking down the street when you run into some friends you haven’t seen in a while. You gotta catch up! Right there. In a circle. In the middle of the damn sidewalk. For an uncomfortably long period of fucking time.

Wait. Don’t do that. Move to the side.

Don’t Stand in the Middle Part 3: Stand Aside Doofus

Have you ever seen someone shut down completely? Like the Energizer Bunny? They’re walking along normally when—out of nowhere—their mouth hangs open and they stare into the distance like they’ve had a sudden epiphany? As if the secrets of the universe were revealed to them in one leveling moment? And it happened on the sidewalk? Right the fuck in front of you?

I don’t know what’s happening there either, and frankly, I don’t care, but that doofus needs to stand aside.

Is that Golf Umbrella Necessary?

Short answer: no. Long answer: get a smaller umbrella, asshole.

Common Sense

When all else fails, use common sense. Navigating crowds is difficult. Different people have different needs. Make the best of it. Stay calm. Relax. Be polite. Use your words. You’ll get through it. Do your best to stanch your sidewalk rage.

Acting Weird Gets People Out of Your Way

In summation, have fun with it. Like I do. There’s no better source of entertainment than acting weird to get people out of your way. Here are a few tactics I employ, but, feel free to be creative, there’s an endless amount of fun to be had here.

Moan loudly in a sexual manner.

Pretend you’re sick.

Stretch your arms and say, “OMG! It’s been so long!”

Aggressively scratch yourself.

Repeatedly make farting noises with your mouth.

Dress like a scary clown (bonus if it's a scary sexy clown).

Do the heroin shuffle. It’s like the Watusi, but sexier.

Seeing My Dead Friends on Facebook

I sliced my middle finger open on the ceramic tile lining our kitchen wall. It was one of those silly, absent-minded accidents. I was leaning against the wall, reading the first novel in The Expanse series when it happened. I was trying to stretch my shoulder, so I put my hand on the wall for torque and a jagged, arrowhead-shaped tile caught my skin and ripped it open.

It was a deep tear.

It was bleeding profusely.

It wasn’t stopping.

My wife, Adrienne, was at the courthouse serving as a witness for our friend’s marriage. This was December 2012 and same-sex marriage had been legalized in Washington State that year. Clare and Hatlo were finally getting hitched! It felt awesome. It felt like a victory. It felt like progress with a capital “P.”

Once they finished at the courthouse, Adrienne was going to call me with the location, and I was going to meet them for dinner to celebrate.

Needless to say: that wasn’t happening now.

I called her instead.

“I think I need stitches,” were the first words out of my mouth.

It was a brief conversation, but we made plans to meet at the Group Health Urgent Care by our apartment on Capitol Hill. It’s just a few blocks away, but I didn’t think I should walk. I wrapped my finger tightly in a paper towel, jumped behind the wheel of my 98 Toyota Carolla, and put the pedal to the metal like Ayrton Senna in a Formula One championship race. I was bookin’ it.

I arrived minutes later and, luckily, found parking right across the street (that never happens in Seattle).

I checked into Urgent Care and the Admittance Nurse—a very sweet, motherly type—surveyed my hand. I hadn’t nicked a vein, but I did need stitches.

Adrienne arrived, and we headed back to a room for the Doctor to take a look. Four giant shots of anesthetic and eight stitches later, we were gleefully snapping pictures and posting about the experience on Facebook. It was over.

And that’s when I saw the messages on my Facebook Feed.

I didn’t understand what I was seeing at first. Nothing made sense. It’s frustrating, but when someone dies, people don’t tell you what happened on Facebook. They elude. They tell you the person’s name, but not what happened. Not how. Not why. There were clues, but no answers. I had to piece the timeline of events together from several disparate posts. I was Sherlock Holmes investigating a case he didn’t want to solve.

Well, it was elementary, dear reader: a close friend from college had unexpectedly passed away.

She was recently married. A new mother. A lot more life to live.

I was floored.

This is neither here nor there, but a few days later I was in an argument with my Dad about LGBT Rights and I haven’t spoken to him since. This was more than five years ago. Let’s just say, it was a rough week.

It’s hard to move past an event like this when you have a scar commemorating the event on your dominant hand. It’s a constant reminder and, from time to time, I find myself visiting my dead friend’s Facebook Page. There are a few photos of us together. A funny exchange. A post she made that I never saw. Is it weird to "like" it now?

I’ve had other friends pass away. Teachers. That guy I did theatre with in Cincinnati. People I had brief interactions with at a party. It’s starting to add up.

For the most part, I only use Facebook to tell people about my next project or to waste some downtime. I like it when people share interesting articles, a funny quip, or a photo of an experience they had. Honestly, I’m over the near-constant political and social outrage, but it comes with the territory. I acknowledge that it needs to be said, but I feel like your preaching to the choir to a certain extent. There’s probably a better platform for those messages, but...I digress.

I can’t always visit their graves, but I can visit them on Facebook. It’s a little weird to think of Facebook as a graveyard, but in some sense, it is.

Is there such a thing as an experiential graveyard? I guess so; it’s called Facebook.

If I ever have grandchildren, will they scour my Facebook to see what I was like? Will people send me private messages not knowing that I passed away? How long will my profile last after I’m gone? Will I get archived? Will future archaeologists locate the server my information is stored on and study me?

There’s probably a terrific Sci-Fi Thriller to be found in these questions. I’m seeing something where a holographic projection of my digital identity is created in the 27th century and I have to teach humanity how to be humane again. Wouldn’t that be the shit?!?! I'm okay with Ryan Gosling playing me.

Without technology, I wouldn’t have known the fate of most of these people. We moved apart. We stopped talking. I’m sorry to say this, but I only vaguely remember some of them. They’re part of a half-forgotten memory of a life I once lived. I know the face. The name. But I don’t remember why or how.

The Best TV Show That You're (Probably) Not Watching

Binge-worthy television is all the rage. Series like Game of Thrones, Stranger Things, and Breaking Bad are turning viewers into eager and awestruck couch potatoes.

And it’s easy to see why—production, storytelling, and acting are firing on all cylinders; characters are given room to develop; plots twist and turn surprisingly.

In terms of overall quality and entertainment value, television is giving box office juggernauts, like Star Wars and the Marvel Cinematic Universe, a run for their money. I mean they don’t call this the Golden Age of Television for nothing!

But modern television is more than just entertainment escapism; it’s a cultural currency.

We theorize, and we spoil. We “talk it out” with friends. We scour the internet for clues. We troll. We read magazine articles. We watch. We re-watch.

And we love it.

We’re obsessed.

Don’t get me wrong; I don’t see this as a negative by any means. Our brains love stories, and, according to the Greater Good Science Center at UC Berkley, consuming stories produces, “oxytocin as the neurochemical responsible for empathy and narrative transportation.”

Let me boil that down: binge-watching television is feeding your oxytocin addiction. When you get hooked on a story, especially one that continues over an extended duration, you’re feeding an addiction.

That’s some cool shit.

All this goes to say—in a weird, roundabout manner—this is why I’m surprised more people aren’t watching Star Trek: Discovery.

And I think I know why.

In a time when superheroes fight to save Earth from Thanos, Jedi’s duel it out on the salt-covered planet of Crait, and the Mother of Dragons is joining forces with Jon Snow, there are still some things that mainstream audiences find a little too nerdy.

Here’s the thing you need to know: Star Trek: Discovery isn’t Star Trek in a conventional sense.

Sure, it’s set in the same universe, with the same gadgets, command structure, and lingo, but it’s not an episodic, monster-of-the-week show built for syndication. Star Trek: Discovery is a distillation, a synthesis of modern storytelling built on a vast and rich framework. They keep the technobabble to a minimum. The emphasis is put on character development and plot. What more can you ask for?

Star Trek: Discovery is nearing the end of its first season, and, in my humble opinion, I think it’s safe to say that it’s the sci-fi Game of Thrones.

Yeah.

It’s that good.

I really hope you give it a chance.

A lot of people grumble because Star Trek: Discovery is only available through CBS All Access. I get it. It’s inconvenient. It’s a transparent cash grab. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Streaming services aren’t going away. If anything, they’re only going to become more prevalent as studios attempt to monetize their properties and carve out their corner of the online market. If you like something, you’re going to have to pay for it.

Helpful hint: you can add CBS All Access to Amazon Prime for a limited time to watch the show. It’s only $9.99 for more than 15 hours’ worth of entertainment.