This weekend, I had to work. Not just a little bit of catch-up, but full-fledged 12 hour days of work. Brutal. Really, the only way I could motivate myself to get through them was to watch horror flicks in the background while I worked, thereby getting my work done while instilling the proper sort of pre-Halloween-y mood.

Fortunately, I picked up a used copy of the Nightmare on Elm Street box set from Matthew last time we were in LA, so I had an excellent selection of seasonally appropriate films that aren’t quite good enough to devote my undivided attention to, so were perfect for work background. I hadn’t actually seen the whole series before, just the first one, the last one, and parts of 2, 3, and 6. Actually sitting down and watching them all in sequence is sort of an odd experience, but, if you have to spend your whole weekend working, it certainly makes things more lively.

The first one remains a pretty solid film. Our local news ran a bit about a Yahoo! poll which placed it as one of the three scariest films ever – which I’m not really buying at all (though it’s certainly ranked higher than Saw, which was also in the top 3 of this list – thereby casting severe doubt on its viability), but it’s pretty solid as far as these things go. It’s far more interested in crawly things (maggots, centipedes, what eel/lamprey things the wrapped-in-plastic friend turns into) than I recalled, which gives it kind of a disturbing coherence to the dream sequences. Also, that shot from between Heather Langenkamp’s legs with the hand rising out of the water is one of my favorite visual samples of violence and sexuality in teen horror flicks.

The second one is really completely insane and possibly one of the most gay-themed horror films I’ve ever seen. It’s almost as though they had a script lying around for a “lycanthropy as allegory for closeted gay teen” movie that was hastily revamped into a sequel. Pretty much all the established devices from the first film get chucked out for a very strange (and non-dream-related) possession/transformation movie. Clu Gulager’s performance as the Dad who is completely nonplussed by unplugged toasters spontaneously combusting or being attacked by the family parakeet (who also spontaneously combusts), but is livid at the idea that his son refuses to unpack following a move, is one of the more bizarre and borderline-campy performances I’ve seen in a while. What really sells the film is the sequence in which our hero gets a little worked up, so goes to a gay bar downtown where he meets up with his gym teacher and they wordlessly end up back at the school where he is forced to run laps and then hit the showers (at which point he becomes possessed and rat tails his gym teacher to death in a steamy shower scene). I hestitate to refer to this as homoerotic subtext, as I’m not sure there’s anything subtextual about picking up your gym teacher in a gay bar.

Honestly, I think we’re about due for a good gay werewolf movie. It’s got all the right themes of transformation and shame that I think someone could do a good job with it (provided, by the end, the werewolf comes to accept himself as being just fine the way he is). Just as long as it’s not done by Gregg Araki…

Anyway, the third one functions as a more coherent sequel to the first (which makes sense, as it’s at least partially written by Craven). It’s ludicrous (particularly the dream versions of the troubled teens), but it at least follows its internal logic well. It also stars Patricia Arquette (who, strangely, seems to have more of a drawl now than she did then) and Laurence Fishburne, for what that’s worth. The script is also written by future Oscar nominee Frank Darabont and noted author of Hollywood navel-gazery Bruce Wagner. (To be fair, Wagner also wrote Wild Palms, which outweighs any of the lousy books he’s written since.)

Four is the beginning of the end. Freddy goes from being slightly terrifying to annoying, dressing in funny costumes, spouting puns, and calling people “bitch.” Honestly, I’m not sure these even qualify as puns. At one point, Freddy, dressed as a nurse, grabs a syringe full of blood and says “Time to draw some blood!” I suppose there’s the double meaning of drawing blood as a nurse and as a knife wielder, but that’s not so much different meanings of the phrase as it is different contexts. It’s worth noting that, at this point, that the soundtrack becomes much more intrusive and filled with horrible heavy metal numbers. It’s also worth noting that this installment is from the director of Cutthroat Island and Adventures of Ford Fairlane and is from the writer of LA Confidential. It’s still terrible. This is also the point at which we start getting nunchuck-wielding martial arts expert teenagers as characters, about which the less is said, the better.

Five is pretty much identical to four. Except with more supernatural rape.

Six is a slight improvement, but has some serious tone problems. It’s occasionally campy (like the weird cameos from Roseanne Barr, Tom Arnold, and a strange re-appearance from Johnny Depp), then goes into some incredibly ludicrous death sequences involving turning characters into video games or comic books. Then it gets kind of serious again, just before it goes into a very long 3-D sequence. However, it also features Yaphet Kotto, and I can’t bring myself to hate anything with Yaphet Kotto in it.

I’ve been holding off on watching seven until Eleanor can sit down with me and properly appreciate it (she’s sort of been wandering in and out for these, as any sane person would). However, while I wait for that, I’ve filled the void with viewings of Prince of Darkness (which I love, but have seen so many times, I can comfortably half-watch it with no loss in appreciation) and Basket Case, which was better than I remembered.

Last week, Kitchen finally passed the point where is allowed to be unsupervised (provided we take some steps to keep her from jumping on the furniture, which would cause added strain on her back), so, over the last week, we’ve actually been taking short trips out of the house, leaving her at home. After two months of not being able to go out and do things, this is pretty exciting. Of course, our first few expeditions (like going grocery shopping) weren’t very exciting, but last night we actually went out to see some bands play.

We arrived at the club just as Kaia was getting started. I’m not a huge fan, but I like a few of her songs fairly well – particularly “Sixteen” which she closed with (and is apparently beloved by all, since about half the room started singing along). Up next was Cynthia Nelson (previously of Ruby Falls and Retsin). This was the first performance with the new band and, while they were a little off at times, they worked pretty well. She seems to have left behind the folk/country sound she had last time I heard any of her recordings and is now sounding more like Ruby Falls than she has in a while. Very good.

Dear Nora headlined. According to her label, this album/tour is her last as Dear Nora, as what she’s playing has changed enough that it’s not really the same band. I was a little confused by that (as there have been some pretty significant changes in sound since I started listening), but, after the first few songs of this set, I entirely get what she means. Very different sounding. Not bad, but not really my thing. After the first few songs, the band departed, and she did the rest of the set solo (aside from a couple vocal assists). Overall, very good evening out and certainly nice to spend some time with people who don’t live in our house.

Otherwise, very little going on here. Watching a fair bit of baseball. Working way too hard. Continuing to diet and exercise, although I did hit my initial weightloss goal earlier this week. Since we returned from our vacation in June, I have lost 45 pounds. Actually, I’ve lost another 3 pounds since then, so am rapidly approaching the psychologically important point of having lost 50 pounds. Crazy.

I must admit that I’m not nearly as much of a serious baseball fan as I was in my youth, but I’m still pretty excited about the playoffs this year. I’m not sure if it was the strikes or the restructuring of the divisions, but I sort of stopped following baseball much at all in the early 90’s. This year, though, a pretty hefty percentage of my favorite teams (Twins, Tigers, Dodgers) are in contention. Maybe swap out the Yankees with the Orioles, and I’d be really happy.

The only problem now is that this all poses a pretty serious problem given the complexity of the internal calculus used to determine which team to root for in given event. This formula applies to almost any sport, though I have trouble working up any enthusiasm to root for anyone in basketball anymore. Basically it comes down to the following:

Positives
Team is from the Midwest
Team has a lower than average budget
Team is from a city I have lived in
Team is from a city I have an irrational fondness for, despite never having lived there (which is to say, Minneapolis and Baltimore)
Team is in the American League (baseball) or AFC (football)
Points for each year franchise has been in existence in current location

Negatives
Team is from a region I am hostile towards (in descending order: Texas, the Southwest, Mountain States, the Deep South)
Team has a higher than average budget
Team is new or recently transplanted (by which I mean within my memory). Note that this negative can be transformed into a large positive if the new/transplanted team is given the name and uniform of a team that previously resided in the city but was relocated by a greedy owner.
Team keeps excessively assholic players on roster
Team has excessively assholic fans who chant vulgar slogans at bafflingly incorrect times
Team makes use of an offensive Native American mascot and/or team name and/or supportive gesture (i.e., “the tomahawk chop”)
Team is owned by Bud Selig

All of which helps me figure out the following decisions:

Tigers v. Yankees: Tigers, hands down. I grew up in Detroit. They’re an old team and from the Midwest. Yankees may be old, but are so far above the average salary line I can’t root for them. Also, they have Derek Jeter, whose visible aura of smugness drives me up a wall.

A’s v. Twins: Twins. I’ve been a Twins fan since the Puckett/Hrbek days and see no reason to stop now. Still, I usually end up rooting for the A’s in the postseason (due to their continued success with a tiny budget), so odd to be vehemently against them now

Padres v. Cardinals: Tough call. I liked the Cardinals as a kid, and they are arguably Midwestern, but they still haven’t escaped the McGwire-inspured hostility I feel towards them. Still, the Padres are from San Diego, and I can’t bring myself to believe anything good comes out of San Diego.

Dodgers v. Mets: Another tough one. My LA loyalty is greatly diminished since I moved away, and they are a grossly overspending team these days and filled with some pompous jackasses (I’m looking at you, Nomar). Plus all the New Yorkers I enjoy spending time with are Mets fans, so I suppose I’ll have to go with them (not only over the Dodgers, but over either the Padres or the Cards)

The possible AL matchups are harder. Certainly, I’ll pick either the A’s or the Twins over the Yankees, and the Tigers over the A’s, but the possibility of a Twins/Tigers matchup leaves me both delighted and conflicted. However, with the Twins losing their opening home game (with Santana pitching!), I don’t think it’s too likely to come up.