I didn’t get to see the longest lunar eclipse of the 21st Century here in the outlaw town of Chicago, but I did get a Blood Moon, as you would expect.
A one hour and 43-minute totality. That’s the kind of event that creates gods. Bad horror movies just create naps.
My lack of lunacy didn’t stop me from watching a shitty werewolf movie. I would have watched a good werewolf movie, but good werewolf movies are rarer than full lunar eclipses. They say there are good werewolf movies out there, but that’s just legend. Tall tales told by ancient folk.
I love werewolves, but they don’t seem to translate well to film.
Blood Moon is a 2015 cowboy werewolf movie. Outlaws versus lawmen versus skinwalkers. The Navajo skinwalker legends have been hot the last few years. Werewolves are passé.
The most interesting thing about this film besides the fact that they got the term “yee naaldlooshii” correct is where it was filmed.
This paranormal Western shoot-em-up was filmed in England. Laredo Wild West Town, Kent, England to be precise.
The mysterious man in the black hat is named Thomas Calhoun, who coincidentally is also the name of a cricketer from Kent in the early 1800s. I guess he moonlit as a demon hunter in between matches.
Besides those interesting quirks, the story was typical in every respect. Hell, it starts with an old man eating beans from a tin plate while a player piano tinkles out an appropriately wild west-sounding ditty.
New Deputy Marshall, his new wife – who is, unknown to him, a former lady of the evening, the saucy woman saloon owner, the mysterious stranger, the outlaw bank-robbing brothers, and a few short-timers who are there just to get killed.
Just add a skinwalker in a bigfoot costume and stir. Now we got us a horror flick!
Since it is a horror film, they all end up stuck in a building while something horrific prowls outside.
I should have just followed along live with people viewing the eclipse.
But, I didn’t.
There was some silver shot out of a shotgun. A twist we all saw coming. And the best performer in this movie, Anna Skellern, didn’t have nearly enough scene to chew and ended up dead by the end.
Despite the translation of the Navajo term, the skinwalker didn’t actually walk on all fours. Frankly, it wasn’t much of a foe. It was ugly and I bet its wet, muddy pelt smelled like Satan’s bunghole, but it wasn’t a skilled killer.
Ah, well, it’s over now. I can go back to watching shark movies.
I know that hurt, but we always have symphonic metal bands to make things, if not better, at least louder.