Yes to YAZ! - MOTHER’S DAY (1980)

Jackie, Abbey, and Trina met at college ten years ago and are still best friends. They call themselves the Rat Pack and have always had each other’s back, and even now after all these years they make sure to get together for their yearly weekend getaway.

Jackie is successful with a nice job, a nice apartment, a nice car, but she is not perfect as she lets her newest boyfriend take advantage of her (he is a freeloader with no job, who does drugs, steals money from her, doesn’t treat her right, complains about the rough “artist” life, blah, blah, blah), you see, Jackie has a blind spot when it comes to men and usually picks the wrong one.

Abbey’s role at the moment is primarily that of a caregiver to her verbally abusive mother who proclaims over and over again, “I’m a sick woman! I’m a sick woman!” — poor, dear, sweet Abbey confesses to the girls that sometimes she feels their yearly Rat Pack getaways are the only thing holding her together.

Trina’s life is arguably the one with the most comfort and pleasure and excess and fun, and she is actually the only one voicing her opinion about the Rat Pack’s adventures getting old.

This year’s trip took place in the woods by the lake and it proved to be a very unlucky coincidence as the area was home to brothers Ike and Addley, a pair of murderous degenerates living with their mom in a run down house. Mother was the matriarch of the family and even though she looked small and frail, she was a master manipulator and used people’s underestimation to her own advantage. Welcome to Mother’s Day (1980).

Oh, hi there, it’s me, Marath! Thank you so much for joining me here today in another installment of yes to YAZ! where I quickly list five reasons why I personally enjoy and appreciate horror movies. Mother’s Day is such a beautiful piece of 80’s horror cinema and I would be amiss if I didn’t share my love for it over here, my horror home, so, without further ado, let’s jump in!

Reason No. 5. You cannot judge a book by its cover: Mother might look tiny, weak, and innocent but she will very much trick you so her sons can capture you, attack you, rape you, and kill you. Real talk? It was actually quite refreshing seeing an average-looking older woman being the main bad guy. I stan.

Reason No. 4. Women have full lives: The three Rat Pack friends were smart, caring, fun, tough, and loyal. They were not perfect by any means, but when the shit hit the fan they rose to the occasion and not only did they persevere (RIP Jackie) but also took revenge upon the perverted family.

Reason No. 3. You cannot judge a book by its cover, unless you are judging brothers Ike and Addley: Listen, I am not going to sugarcoat it, but what you see is what you get with those two jerks, like, oh my god, I can’t even with them but at the same time I cannot look away either! They are like an annoying pain that doesn’t go away but that also gives you pleasure when you touch it so you keep touching it, yes, you know what I am talking about, when something hurts reeeeeal good… it’s gross but alluring, a mess but free, such an addictive repulsion!

Reason No. 2. Queenie: She was Mother’s animalistic sister who was banished to the wilderness, although we heard very little about her, we knew it would be iconic when we finally got to see her so the anticipation was thrilling! Granted, Mother was terrified of her, and even though her sons did not believe her when she said she had seen Queenie—they were told by grandma she had died, and even had her ear as proof—we, as the audience, were rooting for this so-called Queenie person to come kick Mother’s butt.

Reason No. 1. Family first: I don’t know, man, but there is something so incredibly appealing to me about that kind of family… please don’t judge me, I beg you, but when you give me a dysfunctional family who is unaware of their evil ways, of all the things they do wrong, all paired with a total lack of disregard not only for others, but also for themselves? Dude, yes, yesss, YAZ!

In Love and Fear,

-Marath

© 2016-2022

The Good, The Bad, and The Black Phone (2022)

I promised myself I would not be too harsh on the new Ethan Hawke movie, but then I went ahead and titled this post The Good, The Bad, and The Black Phone (2022) so, you know, mission automatically failed, I guess. My intentions are not to hurt anyone’s feelings, or to be negative or whatever, but to be one of the voices who are honest and simply want to warn those undecided horror fans to save their money and skip the movie altogether, or, if they are still curious about it, to at least wait until it becomes a streamer and even then I would caution them to fast-forward all the way to the very last five minutes –The Black Phone was not worth my time and money, and doubt it would be worth yours either.

A couple of trivia items before we start: The script for this 1h 43m movie was based on a 30-page short story written by Stephen King’s son where a boy is kidnapped and kept in a basement with a disconnected phone which receives supernatural calls from past victims, all dead of course. [By the way, a 30-page short story not does a full-length movie make, just saying.] The movie was directed by the same guy who directed Sinister (2012) which is one of my favorite movies from the 2010’s. [This last part not a trivia piece but a personal fact, obviously.] In Sinister, Hawke played one of the main characters too, ditto for deputy so&so.

**SPOILERS AHEAD**

Let’s begin on a positive note and talk about the good, that is, the boy’s father and sister. Those two characters were so complex and rich that every time they were onscreen they left me wanting more. On one hand we had the tormented alcoholic dad who spends his nights drinking himself to death, angry at the world, taking it out on his daughter for showing the same “special gifts” her late wife had, and on the other hand we had the smart and brave girl who is not afraid to fight back when protecting her shy big brother, but who is yet too little to stand up to her abusive father when being physically punished for embracing her “visions/dreams.” Bonus points: She was funny in a sort of adorable way, so that aspect of her personality balanced out all the hitting and crying.

Before moving into the bad, or more specifically, the meh of the film, I would like to say that I always (always!) try my very best at being unbiased toward child actors in horror movies. Having said that, watching a child actor pretend to be in a dangerous situation in a horror movie, like fighting against a serial killer, let alone being successful at outsmarting said serial killer, takes me out of the moment and I have to bring myself back into this hour-and-a-half-long fantasy world. I do try my best though, but by doing so it feels like work, I don’t know, I am rambling now. So yeah, child actors, yada, yada, yada, not believable enough, not gory enough, not scary enough, so on and so forth.  

The ugly aspect of the film, the nail in the coffin, the drop that spilled the glass, the straw that broke the camel’s back—you know where I am trying to go with this—was the fact that The Black Phone underutilized the great artistic abilities of accomplished actor Ethan Hawke. It was a total joke! The only moment where we saw his full face, excuse me, his full face covered in white makeup and wearing big 70’s glasses (the movie was set in the late 70’s, did I already say that?), was during the kidnapping scene, and everything after that was him wearing the oversized Bughuul-like masks—another hint to Sinister, in my personal opinion, that is already on top of the super 8 film montage and the law enforcement/paranormal combo—that either covered his full face, or just the top, or just the bottom, and that was even if they showed the character at all –Hawke appeared so little in the film! A total joke indeed.

Listen, I can ignore the fact that Hawke’s lukewarm serial killer character, The Grabber, got tricked and killed by the main boy (I can deal with disappointment, no problem, easy, piece of cake), but what I cannot ignore is the fact that the film producers cast deputy so&so from Sinister to be his dumb drug addict brother, I mean, he was completely unnecessary to the story and low-key embarrassing to watch, and yes, of course he also died in the end without making an impact on anyone or anything (I cannot deal with movie makers underestimating their audience and giving them shit stories because they think it’s cute).

Final thoughts? The Black Phone was slow and repetitive and a letdown. The only thing I believe would save it so Blumhouse can continue making money from our ticket purchases (come on, you and I know this is a paycheck for everyone), would be to produce a prequel so they finally explain the reason behind the goofy masks and why The Grabber was who he was. Usually, serial killers, the real kind at least, have the most disturbing childhood stories and there is a robust market for that content nowadays (come on, you and I know we eat that stuff #numnum).

In Love and Fear,

-Marath

© 2016-2022

Canserbero (1988-2015)

Before I start talking about today’s true crime post I would like to close my eyes, take a deep breath in, thank god for the gift of life, exhale, imagine a warm and sunny day at a green field with nothing but grass, wet grass, inhale again, feel the wet tickling grass under my bare feet, exhale, and open my eyes with a smile on my face – HOLA AMIGOS! Today is Memorial Day Monday and I promised myself I would use this glorious extra day off (been on vacation for weeks now, return to work tomorrow, wish me luck lol) to finally talk about a case that has been on my mind for ages but had never had the courage to do proper research on as the subject matter would, without a doubt, upset me as it is about the untimely death of Canserbero, my favorite rapper.

So, with all due respect to everyone, I would like to dedicate this special day to honor the memory of Canserbero—the best lyrical poet of my generation—with one of my favorite songs of his, C'est la Mort, performed live at Club SDK in Argentina on November 10, 2012:

Canserbero, birth name Tirone José González Orama, was a Venezuelan underground rap and hip-hop artist regarded as one of the most important proponents of the genre in all Latin America even though he only had two solo albums—Vida (2010), Muerte (2012)—at the time of his death on January 20, 2015. He was 26 years-old.

Canserbero’s intoxicating lyrics were not only honest and raw, but also brutal and uncensored which was something he prided himself of and attributed as one of the advantages of being an underground independent artist (gave away his music as free downloads, making his living from live performance ticket purchases); the other thing he was proud of was the fact that he did not spend money on marketing as, thanks to the internet and social media, his fan base grew organically throughout the years (started making music under his nickname, Canserbero, since the young age of eleven years-old, joining several bands, but it wasn’t until he and Lil Supa—under the band name Can-Zoo—published the album Índigos [2008] that he got catapulted into international notoriety).

His second solo album, Muerte (2012), was hands-down a pretty damn perfect somber ride into his tormented psyche, according to me, that is. Songs like C'est la Mort, Es Epico, Maquiavelico, Mundo de Piedra, El Primer Trago, and Jeremias 17:15 changed the game in what is called género rap conciencia [conscious rap = peace, love, unity] while still skillfully managing to infuse his personal dark style into it.

In 2013 and 2014 he released two albums with the bands Apa & Can, and Give Me 5, respectively, and focused on touring. Touring, it would seem, would be a factor which ultimately would cause his murder (alleged murder, that is).

On Tuesday, January 20, 2015, at around 5am, emergency services were called to the apartment home of Carlos Molnar and Natalia Améstica, friends and business associates from Canserbero as, unfortunately, and tragically, both Carlos Molnar and Canserbero were reported dead onsite. Per Natalia Améstica, the only witness, the horrible event was a violent act of murder-suicide with her husband, Carlos, ending up getting stabbed multiple times inside their 10th floor apartment, and Canserbero ending up lying face up at the bottom of the building.

This is when my head starts to hurt. This is when things stop making sense, when logic and common sense yell at me in outrage for the right to know the truth, for authorities to do their job well and bring to justice the murders of both Carlos and Canserbero. A person does not stab himself to death, or jump seminaked from an ill-fitted kitchen window to his death when there is no apparent problem or conflict or reported mental illness or violent behavior; however, a person does end up getting murdered via stabbing and shoving from a great height when a crime is committed.   

Money, in specific, touring money was allegedly never recovered from Carlos’s home and when Natalia was questioned about it, she claimed she had never heard of any money belonging to Canserbero’s tour (the funds came allegedly from ticket sales, see below concert bills; it’s so eerie to know they were scheduled to happen just a couple of weeks from his unexpected death) even when she was employed by Canserbero to manage his appearances (she was the Vicepresident of Cana Producciones, her family’s production house).

I am not one to talk about conspiracy theories, but damn it, there has to be a valid reason as to why two seemingly healthy men, a 34 year-old, married and with two kids, and a 26 year-old, single and living the good life, both happy, both successful, at the top of their music and entertainment careers, and both being good friends to top it all off, would hurt each other. Reason? Reason does not explain it. The wife and the authorities? They tried, badly, thus all of us fans driving ourselves crazy in order to have closure.  

PER THE WIFE, her two kids were not home the day of the deaths because they stayed at their grandma’s after a birthday party and, allegedly, Carlos invited Canserbero to spend the night at their home because he was allegedly suffering schizophrenia (but then she also said she was the one Googling the signs and symptoms of a schizophrenic person all while an alleged physical dispute was happening outside her bedroom). Also, per the wife, she and Canserbero were allegedly having an affair and when they were caught having sex at her home on that morning (remember, authorities were called at around 5am on that tragic Tuesday) Carlos and Canserbero started fighting and one ended up getting stabbed and the other jumping thru the elevated kitchen window which had, believe it or not, glass louver panels, where you have to meticulously and patiently remove one rectangular panel at a time... (*sigh*) per the above crime scene photo, only five panels were removed… (*double sigh*) Almost forgot, the wife, the only witness, the one with conflicting interests, said she would officially testify when the case was officially resolved by the government (does the law work differently in Venezuela?), and immediately moved to Chile (surprise, surprise!). One last thing about her: since she would not make an official appearance of any type, she sent her brother, Guillermo Améstica, to speak to the media on her behalf and it was thru him that everyone was informed of the alleged serious mental illness and murdering instincts from Canserbero. Hello murder-suicide theory. Hello tabloid news. (Goodbye justice. Goodbye Canserbero.)

PER AUTHORITIES, the case was filed and quickly closed as a murder-suicide. The murder weapon was never found. Large sums of money were never found either. Carlos’s deadly injuries were reported on his back (stab injures). Cancerbero’s deadly injuries were congruent with a fall from a great height, also reported were injuries to his jaw (broken) and teeth (missing). In March of 2015 public defender Tarek William Saab published on social media his plans of reopening the case after taking a meeting with Canserbero’s sisters as, according to them, and as agreed by him, evidence of the louver window panels as having been removed one by one were indicative of method, not desperation (the official report characterized Canserbero as having been in a schizophrenic state, desperate enough to take his own life). The case was never reopened.

“Soy vida y soy muerte, no estoy aquí por accidente / Huye que te coge la muerte / Quiero bastante ron el día de mi velorio y que repitan fuerte / Huye que te coge la muerte” – C’EST LA MORT, CANSERBERO, MUERTE (2012) [I am life and I am death, I am not here by accident / Run ‘cause death will fuck you OVER / I want plenty of rum the day of my funeral and everyone to repeat loudly / Run ‘cause death will fuck you OVER]

So what about me? What are my thoughts? Well, I think Carlos’s wife had something to do with it, but what exactly is not something I can answer. I have plenty of questions though, like what was Canserbero really doing at those odd hours at his friend/business partner’s home? His own home was located in the same city of Maracay (not in the same building as reported by the media) so he could have left if he was able to. Why were the kids really away from home that night? Who organizes a kid’s birthday party (the daughter’s) on a Monday? Was it planned for the kids to sleep at grandma’s that Monday? Was it planned for Canserbero to spend the night at their home that Monday? Was there really an altercation? If so, about what? Infidelity? Money? Future business relationships? Why was Carlos only stabbed in the back? Since defense wounds are usually NOT found in the back, does that mean Carlos was not aware he was going to be attacked? Was he conscious prior to being attacked? Where was his body found? In the bedroom? In the kitchen? How much blood was found on and around him? About Canserbero, why was he found seminaked with his jeans and underwear down to his ankles? Can a body, when plummeting from the 10th floor, get undressed? Were his shirt and shoes found? If so, were they covered in Carlos’s blood? Since blood splatter of a victim is usually found on the body of the attacker, was there any other blood on Canserbero beside his own? (Actually, I found the answer to this one – No, it was not, Carlos’s blood was not found on Canserbero.) His jaw and teeth were broken, did he suffer the injuries while still on the 10th floor, or after? If after, then why was his body found facing up and not down? Now, about the kitchen louver window panels, is it possible for someone to easily remove them (how quickly, and do you need tools for it?), and jump out of them without trouble? What is the height and length when you remove five panels? Can an adult-size male body fit thru it? Jump thru it? What about jumping with great force and distance? And what about the wife, why was she Googling how a schizophrenic person “behaves” whilst her husband was in alleged danger? Googling? Really? Not trying to stop the argument and, when escalated into a fight, running for help, yelling, shouting, screaming, knocking on doors, calling 911 immediately? How was she found by authorities? Was she covered in blood? Freshly showered? Was she crying? In shock? And her brother, how soon did he arrive? Or was he already there? What role did he have in their family production company, if any? Did he know Canserbero personally? Was he in good terms with Carlos? And about the neighbors, what did they hear? If two men are trying to kill each other you WILL hear it when living in an apartment complex. Why was the wife the only reported witness?

Although questioning things might bring some momentary relief, even if to appease my sense of logic, my sense of order, of rightfulness, all this time and energy invested in trying to make sense of the senseless, all of this is for nothing, really… only they know what truly happened and took it to their grave. It is useless trying to defend this or that conspiracy theory as no one would be the ultimate winner. Winner of what?  Of I told you so? Carlos and Canserbero are gone, kids lost their father and a father lost his son. All this noise is not going to bring justice or them back.

Huye, que te coge la muerte.

In Love and Fear,

—Marath

P.S. This in-depth 2021 interview with Canserbero’s cousin was really interesting and totally recommend you watch it.

© 2016-2022