Directed by Doris Wishman, Indecent Desires tells the story of two people and a doll. Zeb (Michael Alaimo) is a pervy loser who is obsessed with Ann (Sharon Kent), the young secretary that he often sees while she’s on the way too work. Ann is a painfully normal (some might say boring) person, with an office job, a super dull boyfriend named Tom (Trom Little), and a wild best friend named Babs (Jackie Richards). Babs is the type who comes into the office and announces that she met a superfab guy the previous night, a guy named Monty who is “so continental.” Ann is the type who replies that she doesn’t trust anyone named Monty nor anyone who is continental.
(Like what the heck does that even mean?)
One day, pervy Zeb discovers a doll in a trash can and he takes it home with him. The doll bears a superficial resemblance to Ann, in that they’re both blonde. Whenever Zeb caresses the doll, Ann feels it. Whenever Zeb gets upset and slaps the doll, Ann feels it. When Zeb undresses the doll, Ann undresses. When Zeb discovers that Ann has a boyfriend, Ann feels Zeb’s anger.
YIKES!
It’s kept ambiguous as to whether or not Zeb knows that Ann can feel what he’s doing with the doll. There’s an odd scene where Zeb sees Ann on the street and she briefly turns into a giant version of the doll. It’s totally possible that Zeb is using the doll as his way to pretend to possess someone who he knows that he’ll never have the courage to actually approach. That adds a haunting ambiguity to the film’s final scene, as we’re left to wonder whether Zeb truly understands the consequences of his actions.
It’s tempting — perhaps a bit too tempting — to find a subversive subtext to the film’s exploitive story. Zeb may be obsessed with Ann but she barely notices him in the film. She doesn’t know that he exists but it’s not because she’s self-absorbed. She just has a life of her own with a career of her own and a boyfriend of her own and Zeb is not a part of her life. For Zeb, though, obsessing on Ann is his entire life and he is outraged that she doesn’t even know him. Fueled by misogyny and a sense of entitlement, Zeb uses the doll to exert his control over Ann and to finally keep her from being with anyone but him. Zeb can’t talk to a real woman but he can totally have a relationship with a plastic doll that has no opinions and, even more importantly, never changes or develops in any way. Of course, it’s debatable whether this subtext was deliberate or accidental. Sometimes, the rushed nature of the exploitation film basis led to some of the most subversive statements of all.
This film was directed Doris Wishman, who was the busiest female director of the sound era and, as a woman who made sexploitation films, a true groundbreaker. Clocking in at barely 75 minutes, IndecentDesires is definitely a Wishman film, from the stark black-and-white cinematography to the often skewed camera angles. There’s very little dialogue and what there is was obviously dubbed. There’s no ambient noise to be heard, giving the film a surreal and dream-like feel even before Zeb grabs the doll.
Indecent Desires is effective, low-budget paranoia fuel. It’s a film that will leave you to wonder who has been watching you and how many “dolls” they’ve collected.
At her luxurious Hollywood mansion, silent film star Rose Pettigrew (Jean Louise O’Sullivan) is throwing a party to celebrate the release of her new film. While her guests gossip about whether or not the coming of sound is going to end Rose’s career (since Rose’s voice does not fit her sultry image), Rose and three of her friends — cowboy star Sonny (Eric Roberts), scarred leading man Eric Burke (Robert Zachar), and overweight comedian Tubby (Nihilist Gelo) — slip into Rose’s underground dungeon and have an orgy with two flappers. Tubby has just murdered one of the flappers when Rose’s lawyer interrupts the orgy and announces that 1) Rose’s new film is a flop, 2) audiences love the new talkie, 3) the studio will no longer be producing silent films, and 4) Rose no longer has a contract with the studio. The shocked Rose shoots all of her friends and then slits her own throat in front of her horrified guests.
The film then jumps forward to 2012. Two real estate agents, Reese (Jessica Morris) and Danni (Arianna Medix), are getting the long-abandoned mansion ready for a prospecting buyer. They clean the mansion. They find Rose’s old necklace (which fell from her neck when she slit her throat), and they have a bottle of wine. Reese explains who Rose was while Danni says that she hates silent films. That night, the ghosts of Sonny, Eric, Tubby, and one of the flappers suddenly appear, looking to haunt the two real estate agent and ultimately drag them to Hell with all the other tormented spirits of silent Hollywood!
The Dead Want Women attempts to be a campy throwback to the old haunted house films of the 40s and the 50s, just with a lot more gore and nudity. Unfortunately, the film itself is rather slow. The 1927 opening drags on forever and, at one point, I actually groaned when Rose told her weaselly agent to repeat what he had just told her because it literally took five minutes for him to say it beforehand. As a lover of old Hollywood and film history, I appreciated the fact that the film used the coming of sound as the impetus for the haunting and I also liked the fact that the lecherous Tubby was obviously based on Fatty Arbuckle but otherwise, there really wasn’t much to The Dead Want Women. It was a standard Charles Band ghost story, with the emphasis more on boobs than scares.
On the plus side, Eric Roberts was an effectively evil cowboy ghost and some of the rotting flash makeup that was used on the ghosts was properly icky. But otherwise, this is a pretty forgettable film. Sorry, The Dead Want Women. You are not ready for your close-up.
Previous Eric Roberts Films That We Have Reviewed:
A bunch of teenagers hang out in a house during one snowy weekend. It’s just too bad that the house is located near Donner Pass, the infamous Colorado location where George Donner ate several people while trapped by a blizzard. Legend has it that Old Man Donner is still out there, his spirit tracking down others dumb enough to get lost in the snow and eating them. And even if Old Man Donner doesn’t get them, what about the escaped criminal who is currently missing somewhere in the Colorado wilderness?
As far as the types of film are concerned, Donner Pass is okay. There is one creative kill, the film does feature an unexpected twist or two, and probably enough gore to keep the gorehounds happy. For those of us looking for something more than just gore, Donner Pass suffers from a lack of sympathetic characters. Other than Kaylee (played by Desiree Hall), all of the characters are either wimpy or just alcoholic jerks. There are some atmospheric night shots of the blizzard and the house is a great location but, since you don’t care about any of the characters it’s hard to get invested in the film. The Donner Party is one of those true stories that is so creepy that its true horror defies even the bloodiest of films.
Dracula (1931, starring Bela Lugosi as the Count, Dir by Tod Browning, DP: Karl Freund)
Bela Lugosi was born in what is now Romania. Lugosi began his career in his native country, appearing on stage. After serving as an infantryman in World War I, Lugosi moved into the movie industry and appeared in silent Hungarian films. The young Lugosi was an activist, involved in labor issues and trying to unionize the Hungarian film industry. When a new government came to power in Hungary in 1920, the politically-active Lugosi moved first to Germany and then eventually ended up in the United States. After a period of working as a merchant seaman, Lugosi returned to acting.
He first played Dracula on stage in New York City. In 1928, while touring in the role of Dracula, he moved out to California and quickly became a part of the Hollywood community. When Universal produced a film adaptation of Dracula in 1931, Lugosi was the obvious choice for the lead role. The film made Lugosi a star and it also typecast him. Lugosi never stopped acting, though the films varied widely in quality. By the end of his career, Lugosi was a member of the Ed Wood stock company. Even appearing in something like Bride of the Monster, Lugosi still made an impression.
In the scene below, from 1931’s Dracula, Lugosi suggests that Edward van Sloan’s Van Helsing should perhaps leave the country.
I have to admit that, with everything I’ve got going on right now, I kind of rushed through the 1993 R.L. Stine novel, Sunburn. In fact, I read it so quickly that I had to go back and re-read some of it because this is one of those books that ends with one of those totally incoherent R.L. Stine twists that essentially comes out of nowhere. I couldn’t really find any evidence that Stine in any way set up the twist nor could I find any explanation as to how the twist could even work. Of course, I kind of had to rush the re-read as well but I’m going to go ahead and declare that this is the silliest twist that R.L. Stine ever came up.
How silly is this book’s twist? It’s so silly that I actually guessed it about halfway through the book but then I laughed and said, “Nah, no way. No one’s that stupid.”
The book opens with a fairly effective scene in which Claudia awakens on the beach, totally covered in sand except for her head. The tide is coming in, Claudia is going to drown, and the friends that she came to the beach with have vanished. Fortunately, the totally sensitive and hot Daniel comes walking up and saves Claudia’s life. Claudia takes Daniel to her friend’s house so that he can see the people who abandoned her but Daniel vanishes as soon as her friends show up. Could Daniel be a …. GHOST BOY!?
(“We’ll call you …. Ghost Boy!” is a line that I was waiting for but which, sadly, was never uttered.)
Claudia is hanging out with a beach house with some of her friends from summer camp. Hopefully, hanging out at the beach can help all of them recover from the trauma of something terrible that happened the last time that they were at the camp. (They were traumatized at the camp but they still want to hang out with each other. Make of that what you will. I’ve never been to summer camp so maybe it’s just a crazy bonding experience, I don’t know.) Claudia is confused because her best friend Marla is acting strange. In fact, Marla appears to be the one who encouraged everyone to leave Claudia on the beach! Claudia wonders why Marla is acting so strange. Maybe it has something to do with the tragedy that happened back at camp, as it did directly effect Marla’s family. Or maybe it’s because of a totally weird twist that basically comes out of freaking nowhere.
A lot of weird things happen in Sunburn, from ghostly Daniel to the weird camp tragedy to the fence around the house that occasionally becomes electrified. I haven’t even gotten into the bit about the dog gets eaten by a random shark. (It was an evil dog, don’t worry.) This is a weird book and I think Stine pretty much just made it up as he went along. It’s entertaining, though. When a YA thriller has got a twist as random as this one does, how can it not be entertaining?
The 1985 film, Out of the Darkness, takes place in New York City.
It begins in 1977 and it ends in 1978. As the opening title card informs us, it’s a film about a city that was living in fear of the gunman known as the Son of Sam. One of the first images that we see is an a handgun being fired at two people who are making out inside of a car. We then cut to a police station where a homicide detective (played by Sam McMurray) reads aloud the letter that the Son of Sam sent to Jimmy Breslin.
That said, David Berkowitz, the killer who claimed that he was told to murder by a dog before later changing his story and claiming that he was a part of a Satanic conspiracy, spends most of the film in the shadows. His name isn’t even mentioned until the film’s final third. Instead, the majority of the film focuses on Ed Zigo (Martin Sheen), a New York City detective who tries to balance his desire to catch the Son of Sam with taking care of his wife (Jennifer Salt), who is due to have surgery for her heart condition. Ed Zigo is dedicated and intelligent New York cop, the type who has no problem walking into a Mafia-controlled bar and asking the owner if his son has any connections to the family business. He’s also a dedicated family man who freaks out when his daughter goes out on a date. When his wife dies after surgery, Ed Zigo deals with his grief by throwing himself into his work but, as he tells his priest (Hector Elizondo), he no longer has his old confidence. He fears that he’s going to make a mistake that’s either going to put his partner (Matt Clark) in harm’s way or allow the Son of Sam to continue to killing.
And really, it’s not a problem that the film focuses less on the killer and more on the people trying to track him down. Martin Sheen gives a strong and sincere performance as the dedicated Ed Zigo, perfectly capturing not only his dedication but also his fear and his weariness. (In many ways, his performance here feels like a forerunner to his performance in The Departed.) The film captures the feel of living in a city where no one trusts anyone and it is also a good example of a “New Yorkers will be rude to anyone” film. Even with a killer running around, no one wants to listen to a word the police have to say. When David Berkowitz does show up, he’s played by an actor named Robert Trebor who gives an appropriately creepy performance.
Interestingly enough, Joe Spinell also appears in Out of the Darkness, playing the small but important role of an early Son of Sam suspect. Though he only appears in two scenes, Spinell makes a memorably seedy impression. Of course, today, Spinell is remembered for playing a character based on the Son of Sam in the infamous 1980 grindhouse shocker, Maniac.
(Trivia fans will also want to note that Charlie Sheen has a wordless cameo as a man who shuts his apartment door in the face of Martin Sheen and Matt Clark when they attempt to ask him if he witnessed the latest murder. “Nice guy,” Martin says, in response.)
If you’re looking for a film in which Berkowitz is cursed out by a dog, Summer of Sam is probably the one to go for. However, if you’re looking for a more low-key but realistic portrayal of Berkowitz’s reign of terror, Out of the Darkness is a good one to go with.
A few Octobers ago, I got the bright idea to try to review all of Dario Argento’s films over the course of TSL’s annual horrorthon. Unfortunately, I got that idea on September 29th, two days before the start of Horrorthon. I managed to make my way through Inferno until I had to temporarily abandon the project to focus on everything else that was going on that month. However, since I’m not the type to fully give up on anything, I figured this would be the great year to finish up my Argento reviews.
Following the commercial failure of Inferno, a disillusioned Dario Argento returned to Rome. His bad experience with 20th Century Fox had soured Argento on continuing to work with Hollywood and his struggles to film Inferno (as well as his increasingly strained relationship with girlfriend Daria Nicolodi) left him with little desire to continue The Three Mothers trilogy. Instead, he focused on a new idea, one that was inspired by his own experience with an obsessed fan who had left vaguely threatening messages for him when he was in New York. Released in 1982, Tenebrae was Argento’s return to the giallo genre and it would turn out to be a very triumphant return, even if in, typical Argento fashion, it would take a few years for many people to realize just how triumphant.
Argento himself claimed that, while the film was certainly a giallo, it was also his first stab at science fiction. In an interview that appeared in Cinefantastique, Argento said that the film was meant to take place a few years in the future, after some sort of calamity had occurred that has greatly reduced the world’s population. Interestingly, Argento said that the survivors were largely from the upper class and that none of them wanted to talk about or remember what had happened.
Is the science fiction element actually present in this film? I think it is, though perhaps only because I’ve specifically looked for it. Rome, as portrayed in Tenebrae, is a city that is full of sleek but impersonal buildings, the type that would have been recently built by a wealthy society that was unsure of what it believed. Argento specifically avoids filming any scene near any historical landmarks, suggesting all of the evidence of Rome’s former greatness has been wiped out.
Perhaps the most futuristic element of the film (and the most prophetic) is that no one really seems to have a connection with anyone else. The crowd scenes in Tenebrae aren’t really that crowded, even the ones that take place in what should be a busy airport. (In many ways, the film’s portrayal of a Rome that is both busy but strangely empty brings to mind Jean Rollin’s portrayal of Paris in The Night of the Hunted.) Even when we see people socialize, there seems to be an invisible barrier between them, as if they don’t want to run the risk of getting too close to each other. When one character is fatally stabbed while out in public, perhaps the most disturbing aspect of the murder is that so many people just walk away, as if they’ve been conditioned to ignore anything unpleasant. The only thing that prevents this scene from feeling like a vision of 2023 is that there aren’t a bunch of people filming the victim’s final moments on their phone.
The film opens with a sequence that, as a former teen shoplifter, left me feeling disturbed. Elisa Manni (Ania Pieroni, who played The Mother of Tears in Inferno and the enigmatic housekeeper in Fulci’s The House By The Cemetery) is a shoplifter who gets caught trying to steal the latest book by thriller novelist Peter Neal. After being released, the carefree Elisa walks back to her home and, after being menaced by both a barking dog and a pervy old man, Elisa arrives in the safety of her house, starts to undress, and is promptly attacked by a black-gloved killer who slashes her neck and stuffs pages of Neal’s book into her mouth. It’s not just the murder that makes this scene disturbing but also the fact that the killer was somehow waiting for Elisa in her house, establishing that this is a world where the safety of even a locked door is an illusion.
Peter Neal (Anthony Franciosa), who we first see riding his bicycle in New York, has come to Italy to promote his latest book, Tenebrae. He arrives in Rome with his manager, Bullmer (John Saxon, giving a likable performance) and his assistant, Anne (Daria Nicolodi). Confident to the point of arrogance, Peter is a pro at dismissing claims that his books are violent and misogynistic but even he is taken aback when an old friend of his, the journalist Tilde (Mirella D’Angelo), suggests that Tenebrae might inspire violence.
Peter Neal is a celebrity and a pretty obvious stand-in for Argento and everyone in the film is obsessed with him. His ex-fiancée, Jane (Victoria Lario), has followed Peter to Rome, intent on getting some sort of revenge for the way that he treated her while they were together. (Daria Nicolodi felt the vindictive and unstable Jane was based on her, which was another thing that strained her notoriously volatile relationship with Dario.) Peter’ young assistant, Gianni (Christian Borromeo, of Deodato’s The House on the Edge of the Park and Fulci’s Murderrock) hero worships him. The puritanical talk show host, Christiano Berti (John Steiner), wants to interview Peter about the morality of his books. And the killer, whoever they may be, is leaving letters for Peter, informing him that his book have inspired the killer’s crimes. Detective Germani (Spaghetti western star Giuliano Gemma) is investigating the letters and he is an admitted fan of Peter Neal’s novels but, somewhat alarmingly, he mentions that he’s never able to guess the killer’s identity.
Argento’s camera restlessly prowls his futuristic Rome while Goblin’s music booms on the soundtrack as the people in Peter Neal’s life are murdered by a killer wearing black gloves and carrying a straight razor. The murder scenes feature some of Argento’s best work, directed in such a ruthless and relentless manner that we understand the killer’s determination without having to see their face. This is a film of elaborate set pieces and, as if in direct response to 20th Century Fox’s attempts to control his work on Inferno, Argento is eager to show what he can do when left alone. The film is remembered for the sequence where the camera glides over the exterior of an apartment building while the killer stalks the inhabitants but, for me, the scariest scene is when poor Maria (Lara Wendel), the daughter of Neal’s landlord, finds herself being chased straight into the killer’s lair by a very viscous Doberman.
When the film does slow down, it’s for flashbacks to a beach and acts of sexual violence performed by and against an enigmatic woman (who is played by transgender performer, Eva Robbins). The beach flashbacks unfold in a hazy, dream-like manner and they leave us to wonder if what we’re watching is real or if it’s just a fantasy. If the “modern” scenes feature Argento at his most energetic, the beach scenes feature Argento at his most enigmatic.
Daria Nicolodi often said that she considered her final scene in this film to be Argento’s greatest act of cruelty to her. Coming across the killer’s final tableaux and discovering the truth about who the killer is, Anne stands in the rain and screams over and over again. Nicolodi apparently felt that Argento required her to stand there soaked and screaming in order to punish her for having worked (with Tenebrae co-star John Steiner) on Mario Bava’s Shock, instead of having accepted a supporting role in Suspiria.
Whatever personal motives may have been involved in the decision, I think Nicolodi’s screaming is one of the most powerful moments to be found in Tenebrae. It’s certainly the most human moment because I think anyone with a soul would scream upon learning the truth of what has been happening in Rome. Every assumption that Anne had has been overturned. Who wouldn’t scream? Continuing with Argento’s claim that the film was about a world where people no longer discuss the terrible things that have happened, Anne’s screams are the most human part of the movie.
Tenebrae is the last of Agento’s truly great and flawless films. Of course, in usual Argento fashion, it was not treated well in the States, where it was initially released in a heavily edited version and with a terrible title (Unsane, under which it can still be found in certain Mill Creek box sets). But Tenebrae has since been rediscovered and today stands as one of Argento’s greatest triumphs.
4 Shots From 4 Films is just what it says it is, 4 shots from 4 of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 Shots From 4 Films is all about letting the visuals do the talking.
This October, I am going to be using our 4 Shots From 4 Films feature to pay tribute to some of my favorite horror directors, in alphabetical order! That’s right, we’re going from Argento to Zombie in one month!
Today’s director: Stuart Gordon!
4 Shots From 4 Stuart Gordon Films
Re-animator (1985, dir by Stuart Gordon, DP: Marc Ahlberg)
From Beyond (1981, dir by Stuart Gordon, DP: Marc Ahlberg)
The Pit and the Pendulum (1990, dir by Stuart Gordon, DP: Adolfo Bartoli)
Castle Freak (1995, dir by Stuart Gordon, DP: Mario Vulpiani)
That was my reaction when I watched the 1991 film, The Pit and the Pendulum. Based very narrowly on several Edgar Allan Poe short stories, The Pit and the Pendulum takes place at the height of the Spanish inquisition. Despite the objections of the Pope, Grand Inquisitor Torquemada (Lance Henriksen) is leading a reign of terror though 15th Century Spain. In his torture chambers, Torquemada forces confessions from accused witches and other criminals. The dirty prison cells are full of starving and beaten partners. Witches are burned at the stake and explode while the crazed citizenry calls for blood and Torquemada tests out new torture devices.
Torquemada presents himself as being a grim and emotionless man, someone who is above all sin and who is allowed to sit in judgment of the people who are brought before him. However, Torquemada is hardly the sinless figure that he portrays himself as being. His actions are fueled by his repressed lust and his anger. Maria (Rona De Ricci) has been brought before him, accused of being a witch and Torquemada is determined to get her to confess. Maria’s refusal to be broken by Torquemada only increases Toquemada’s anger but, at the same time, Torquemada has also decided that he’s in love with Maria. While Maria waits in the prison and takes advice from the witch Esmerelda (Frances Bay), Maria’s husband, Antonio (Jonathan Fuller), attempts to break Maria out of prison. When Antonio is captured, Torquemada decides to try out his latest device, a swinging and sharpened pendulum that hangs in a pit….
The Pit and the Pendulum is not always an easy movie to watch. I have to admit that I spent the majority of the movie with my hands over my eyes, not wanting to watch the extremely graphic torture scenes. Like many of director Stuart Gordon’s film, The Pit and the Pendulum is gripped by an atmosphere of pervasive corruption and the movie captures the feeling of not being able to escape from the worst place on Earth. Poor Maria spends a good deal of the movie naked and chained to various devices but Rona De Ricci gives such a strong and such a committed performance as Maria that, instead of being offended by the obvious exploitation element of the scenes, you instead find yourself admiring Maria and her strength.
It’s probably not a coincidence that Oliver Reed shows up in the film as a Cardinal because The Pit and the Pendulum, with its portrayal of blood frenzy and hypocrisy, is definitely influenced by Ken Russell’s The Devils. The imagery is graphic and often disturbing but the most memorable thing about the film is Lance Henriksen’s intense performance as the evil Torquemada. Henriksen plays Torquemada as being a hateful and self-loathing figure, a man who deals with his own demons by bringing his fury down on the innocent. It’s a truly frightening villainous performance, one that carries shades of Vincent Price’s excellent performance in The Witchfinder General.
The Pit and the Pendulum is not an easy film to watch and I doubt I’ll watch it a second time. In the end, it’s a disturbing film but one that definitely leaves an impression.
Seriously, the best thing about the 1964 film, Monstrosity, is that it features a black cat named Xerxes. Xerxes is not only a cute little kitty (and, seriously, who doesn’t love a black cat?) but Xerxes is also the best actor to be found in the entire film. While everyone else is struggling to deliver their lines and not wander out of the shot, the cat delivers its meows with the skill of a pro and always hits the right mark. If there was an Oscar category for best animal actor, Xerxes definitely would have been the one accepting the Oscar from the Breakfast at Tiffany’s cat. Seriously, I hope Xerxes was paid well for this role. I hope it opened up a lot of doors for Xerxes. When animal actors get together, I hope that they take a few minutes to raise a toast and to praise a true trailblazer and a wonder performer, Xerxes the Cat!
Unfortunately, the rest of the film doesn’t really live up to Xerxes’s work. Xerxes was obviously doing the best that a cat could do to save this film but there is only so much that a cat can do. At some point, the humans have to step up and make a little bit of effort as well.
Monstrosity, which is also known as The Atomic Bomb, tells the story of Mrs. Hettie March (Marjorie Eaton), a thoroughly unpleasant but very wealthy woman who lives in an isolated mansion. Working in her basement is Dr. Otto Frank (Frank Gerstle), a mad scientist whose work in the field of brain transplantation has led to a lot of strange things happening at the house. For instance, there’s a guy who has the brain of a bulldog. There’s also a woman who wanders around the laboratory with a blank look on her face. Still, Mrs. March is convinced that Dr. Frank will eventually be able to take her brain and transplant it into a younger and more attractive woman.
An ad is put in the classifieds, asking for a young woman to come work as a housekeeper at Mrs. March’s mansion. Three women show up for the job, not realizing that they are actually being set up as candidates to become Mrs. March’s new body. Nina Rhodes (Erika Peters) is from Austria and is the most level-headed. Bea Mullins (Judy Bamber) is from the United Kingdom and speaks with such a thick accent that the viewer will automatically know that she’s not actually British. Anita Gonzalez (Lisa Lang) is from Mexico and rarely speaks. The women arrive at the mansion and soon find themselves at the mercy of the rich old woman, the mad doctor, and all of the failed experiments.
Monstrosity is pretty dumb and remarkably poorly acted, with Lisa Lang’s performance as Anita being the main offender. (Bradford Dillman, who would go on to become a very busy character actor, provided the film’s narration.) That said, Xerxes was a true star. All hail Xerxes!
Through the Shattered Lens 