ICYMI: it’s your Saturday content recap! Because we’re all learning.
Blog: The Year I Wasn’t Anything For Hallowe’en, written because I wasn’t anything for Hallowe’en this year
Video: "Yay-Honh," a meaningless behind-the-scenes musical montage from the making of a movie I never finished back in 1997
Column: Regarding Prosthetic Vaginas, in which I contemplate whether fake pussy is a thing - and why so many people are insisting it is
Blogging the Next Generation: "The Drumhead," not one of my favourites
Watched: Shorts That Are Not Pants 8, featuring the face of Admiral Ackbar
All this and more can be found at tederick.com!
When you’re 14 years old, the game is pretty much up, Hallowe’en-wise; or so I discovered, on or around the 31st of October, 1990, when I was - in fact - fourteen. I think we can all agree that I hit puberty when I was 13, depending on what you consider to be the advent of boy-puberty (I have my theories), and sometime between dressing up as Batman in the fall of ‘89 - because 1989 was, in all regards, Batman - and finding the most kickass mask ever to dress up as the Phantom of the Opera in 1990, I went over the ledge, hormone-wise, and consequently trick-or-treated in ‘90 looking absolutely nothing like a kid and way too much like an adult in the opinions of pretty much every parent who opened every door on St. Leonard’s Avenue that night.Read more
Hallowe’en costumes through the ’80s.
ICYMI: it’s your Saturday content recap! Brought to you by pillows.
(I would like these pillow cases please.)
Column: as that Hallowe’en spirit continues to roll in, I took a look back at my very first horror movie, A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 3
Podcast: Mamo got serious about GRAVITY
Watched: And to round things out, how much do I love watching horror movies with my buddy? A whole lot.
All this and more can be found at tederick.com.
Good morning! In celebration of both Hallowe’en and yesterday’s surprise, here’s me dressed as Luke Skywalker.
Most of the films I see, fortunately or unfortunately, can be arrived at in their completeness by the time the last frame falls; not so, Breaking the Waves. I was in the unfortunate position, though I do not begrudge it, of having had the end of the film “spoiled” for me a few months ago in The Story of Film, so I knew where Breaking the Waves was going from its first moments – but when it was over, I needed, at the very least, a walk home in the rain, or a night’s sleep, or a hug from my girlfriend before I could unravel all the thread of that movie, and look at it, and think about what it had been.
There are, in filmgoing, some people who cannot allow for this portion of time – they must know immediately how you felt about the film, and the more detail the better. I understand what drives them to this, and I pity them; it is a terrible burden. But I find myself weary of this very old, very tiresome war of spaces against these large, blustering men. I do not say that I would prefer to watch movies all alone, and disappear into my own thoughts - but if I could cast a magic spell, and become smoke, when the credits of some certain films rolled, boy, that would be a great delight to me.Read more