Liveblogging Wrestlemaniac

Liveblogging Wrestlemaniac

Blaghity blahg. A few weeks ago, my brother-in-law recommended a b-gem he found, that he figured would be right up my alley.

The film is Wrestlemaniac. This is the film's Myspace page. If I had a Myspace, I'd befriend this film. But alas, I find myself amongst the First Estate that is Facebook.

The flick's trailer:



You know...I love horror movies. I love bad horror movies even more. But the slasher thing, that wears me out. So, if I get bored of the flick midway through the blog, I hope my sevens of readers will understand:

Anyway....Commence de la Live Blog of "El Mascarado Massacre"

10:28: As I wrote the above, the title screen of the DVD (entitled Wrestlemaniac for the American, British and Vulcan releases) plays a nice little mariachi tune, with a picture of a masked wrestler (presumably Rey Misterio Sr, since he plays the flick's baddie) with his back to the camera. Given this portrait, without knowing that I've received a b-slasher flick from the nice folks at Netflix, I might assume I've rented a light-hearted look at the world of Luche Libre. Alas...it is not the case...as I hope we all find out soon enough....

10:30: I grab a Rogue Dead Guy Ale from the fridge, and I push "Play"

The opening shot has the camera tracking up to a church, presumably an old Spanish church out in a desert.

The difference between this church and any that I have ever visited? The screaming, half naked bloody girl that comes sprinting out the front door.

The flick then moves to the opening credits, with footage of black and white Luche Libre...given the trailer's revelation, I'm guessing the baddie is a former wrassler in the Mexican circuit. Which is cool by me...a relief that he had something to fall back on after his career in the squared circle came to a close.

The same music that played over the DVD's menu screen plays here. If choice of music were the sole factor in choosing a home country, Mexico would come in close to last, on my list

10:38: I'm going to be honest with you. I end up rooting for the bad guy in most horror/slasher flicks. It's not because I agree so much with the baddie, it's that I end up in such an ill state with most of the "protagonista."

I called them protagonista because they're in Mexico.

In the desert, presumably, driving a van, miles from anywhere. However, in the wilderness, the reflections of windshields on a highway in the very near distance.

10:40: Okay, I'm the asshole. You could argue that it was that highway that they missed, per a conversation a couple minutes later....

10:43: Two Questions: Should you ever trust somebody in a gas station?

Second: This movie, I guess, is dependent upon you the viewer believing that the characters within the movie think professional wrestling is real.

I can make the leap. It makes the movie at least as good as that episode of Baywatch where Hulk Hogan fights Vader.

10:46: I want to live in this world. Apparently, pro wrestling is in the Olympics in this world. I would give a major damn about the Olympics.

So, for exposition, we have the fat guy explaining who the bad guy is. Apparently, he's wrestler created in the 60's for the purpose of beating the Russians in wrestling at the Olympics. Possibly from the body parts of 3 other wrestlers. Mexican science can create FrankenWrassler, but can't put gas stations in easy reach of anybody, anywhere....

Does any filmmaker anywhere actually do the shot framing technique using the thumb and forefingers to make a rectangle? Just curious

10:50: There's a building with the word "Voorhees" written on it.

Okay, so these six people have gone into the wilderness of Mexico to shoot porn. Got that? Good. The 14-year-old me is kinda jealous right now. And, at 22 minutes in, there is nudity.

In other news, I've been watching this movie for 22 minutes. Proud?

So, they're shooting some "porn," and one the girls gets sick. Presumably from the idea of porning it up with the lead character, who is something of a cross between Mickey Rourke and Frankie Muniz, if you can wrap your brains around that one....

Anyway, the chick runs to vomit, and wanders several hundred yards from the porn location.

Now, I've never had to run, vomiting, from a porn set. Yet. But I figure around the corner would suffice.

Just saying. Not saying there's no monsters creeping around the corner. Just saying the likelihood is muchly decreased.

10:58: So, the porn director wanted to be the next Scorcese, but figured there was more money in porn. It's nice to have that kind of confidence when making your choice in your career path...especially by a guy who's cracked a couple of dick jokes already.

I somehow don't think Martin Scorcese cracks a lot of dick jokes. Might be wrong. But if I were a betting man.

11:02: Okay...somebody just threw something out of a dark building, and it hits the guy in the chest. You're in a creepy, deserted town. Whaddaya do? I'd give the room a health berth, at the very least. That is a move designed mostly around the prevention of Luchadores picking me up by the neck, and killing me. Mother didn't raise many fools. And at any rate, even a stopped clock is right twice a day.

11:05: Awful fresh paint for a town that's been deserted for 40 years. The greens are fresh, the whites are clean. Though I will admit that the town is out of the way, and he doesn't get many visitors to kill. Probably keeps the town tidy, while he's waiting. Even Maniac Luchadore Killers gotta have a hobby. Do you think the people at the Home Depot have a nickname for the guy?

I ask because I nickname most of my customers. Especially the Maniac Luchadore Killers. I call one of them "Oliver" because he wears a mask, and a hood, and kills people with Arrows.

11:09: Suddenly I like the director of the porn a lot.

Trapped in the small room with the maniacal killer trying to bust through....he asks another, much smaller character to "Hold the Door!" And promptly uses that time to jump through a window to escape.

Then, he locks the other two surviving characters out.

This Scorcese Wannabe rocks.

11:12: This movie is 40 minutes old, and already two of the six who came to town are dead, and a third is getting the crap beaten out of him. These Luchadores are very fast paced. An American movie would have dragged this action out over several Monday Nights.

Ouch. Make that three of six, with the third getting his face pulled off while he was still alive.

To think I bitched about getting stung by a bumblebee. At least Mexican wrestlers aren't pulling my face off while I'm still alive....

Okay....so, two of our heroes have wandered into the Lair of El Mascarado. And instead of devising a plan to get to safety, he decides to load up the reel-to-reel in search of exposition, taking time and making noise....

Also...couldn't you just have one Lobotomy? Doesn't the Lobotomy remove the frontal lobe? Or are there other Brain Lobes you could have removed?

I think I'm buying into the movie a little too much...

11:17: I have been watching this movie for 46 minutes. There hasn't been nearly enough nudity, to be honest with you. If I weren't blogging this sumbitch, I'd have turned this booger off already. Good thing I find running off at the mouth so entertaining.

Did this movie come out before, or after Kane's film feature debut in See No Evil?

Okay. So the fat guy and the blonde chick run into his lair, where he has the faces he's ripped off affixed to his walls. And while it's not the decorating choice I'd have made, I wonder how they're affixed.

Tape? Glue? Does he buy staples at Home Depot when he's buying paint?

11:23: Hey! El Mascarado just used a back breaker. Literally. The only other person I saw that work on was Batman, back in the day. Stupid Bane. Did you hear they're killing Bruce Wayne in the comics, by the way. Ain't that some shit?

So, the Fat Guy decides to don his luchadore's mask, that he's been carrying with him, conveniently. Gets his ass kicked once. Gets up, gets beat again. What's he thinking? I'm in better shape than this guy is, and I pulled a muscle in my chest, putting stuff into my loft (a small open space above one of my closets, to answer a question from a post ago....)

You know, the first time I find a corpse of a friend with their face pulled off, I run for the hills, looking for Proper Authorities.

I don't know who that is, precisely. Maybe the police. Maybe the Army. Maybe Bob Barker and the Barker's Beauties. All I know is that in the course of investigating my friends getting their faces torn off, I am not "a proper authority."

11:30: I've been watching this flick for 59 minutes. Huzzah.

This is must me thinking out loud. But, I'm running from a maniac, whether it be a wrestlemaniac or some other type, and I'd like ot think I have presence of mind to go somewhere where I have at least two exits, if not more. Point is, I'd like to not be trapped someplace.

Also, I think I'd carry a gun.

In the eternal battle of Gun vs. Wrestler, Gun wins every time.

Just ask Dino Bravo.

11:34: I gotta wonder. Does El Mascarado wear his wrestling tights and mask all the time? Or does he keep them hung up, wearing them only when porn crews come into his town? I ask because the paint is fresh, but there is not a drop of paint on his tights. Nor is there blood from previous victims.

I'd guess El Mascarado is a blue jeans and t-shirt type of fellow, when he's not killing maniacally.

11:36: Okay. I've paused the movie. We're at 1:03:05 in the movie, and all but one of the original six pornsters is dead. She has successfully eluded El Mascarado to this point. She jumps in the van (which she fixed) to drive away, but forgets that she used the keys to stab the baddie moments earlier. She turns on the headlamps, to find El Mascarado standing in front of the van.

She attempts to run, but gets her denim shorts caught on the seat belt buckle. They rip off, conveniently.

I've paused it, because I don't want this thought to elude me. I've ripped many a pair of pants in my life. It's just a hazzard of being a somewhat klutzy big guy. Never once have I had a pair of pants rip so conveniently.

Now, I'm not grotesquely stupid. I understand that we need some excuse for our "heroine" to run around a bit more in her panties. And I'm all for that. But I think I might have dug the movie a touch more if she'd just announced to the world "I'll be able to run faster without these pants!"

Also, I tend to avoid the Short-shorts. It's just not a look that would work. Also, it's hard enough to find a girlfriend. And it's just not a conversation I want to have with my Dad. "I wear them because they're comfortable, Dad. No other reason!"

Okay. It weren't a good thought. But I wanted to get it out.

Also, I wanted to text my brother-in-law that this movie rules.

11:42: I hate when I slip in somebody else's blood.

How do you think El Mascarado cleans up his wrestling ring/abattoir? I think a spigot and a water hose (available at your neighborhood Home Depot) would do the job nicely. Also, a heavy duty squeegee.

11:47: Okay...our heroine has escaped from El Mascarado, though she has not followed our fat friend's advice to remove his mask. Mascarado, meanwhile, has been impaled, and is standing like a tri-pod, using the lead pipe as the third leg.

And we are now back to our open shot of the movie.

She runs to the van. With the lights left on.

Holy Shit! He stabbled her with the same pole she stabbed him with!

That's Just Not Sanitary!!!!

The Mexico State Boxing and Wrestling Commission should hear about that.

11:50

Okay, so El Mascarado wins.

Good.

Plus, he score a badass van.

All the more to carry home from Home Depot.

Good for him.

I leave this movie with a twofold good feeling in my heart.

A.) It makes me want to make a movie. Because I think I could do better.

and

B.) None of the characters exhibited any positive personality traits (with the possible exception of the one guy, who knew loads about wrasslin....). And they didn't win. Good. More food and beer for me.