Robby is joined by guest, Diana DiMuro, to chat about that weird looking Netflix movie that is most assuredly NOT the #4 watched film on the streaming service this week. But it is interesting.... Listen on....

All October long, we'll be bringing you an awesomely curated selection of horror flicks from the past 50 years! Quinn's, Harry's Hot Sandwiches, More Good, Stock-Up, Dogwood and Ella's Bellas have all donated their spaces for screenings, so whether you want to revisit an old favorite or check out something new, join us for some scary movies! One year ago, Story Screen moved from showing the occasional awesome flick to something far more desperate, far more careless, far more monstrous, to the point of straight-up-fool-hardy nonsense: we decided to show two horror movies a week, all throughout Beacon, for free. No set screen. No set location. If you love horror movies this month - the way we love them all year round- you’d come. And it worked, far more than we ever could have “nightmared.” Because of the success of the Beacon HorrorShow, Story Screen was able to move out of the solitary (yet, still, totally cool) confines of certain settings throughout Beacon and into the larger audience we so desperately wanted to entertain. After a year's worth of awesome programming, genuine crowd appreciation and head-first experimentation, we arrive back at the beginning. Horror movies. We screened 9 timeless scary flicks last year. This year we bring you 13. Last year we hoped to spread the love of both little known horror films, as well as some classics we all wanted to see on the big screen with a crowd screaming around and with us. This year we curated our schedule around a more specific question: what makes horror movies so damn interesting? Our answer (at least for this year) is metaphor. The greatest of the horror flick icons are those immortalized by mask and name: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Charles (Chucky) Lee Ray, Freddy Krueger, etc. These movies all share a metaphor for the loss of innocence: doing something you shouldn’t, breaking the rules, in a sense, being an asshole, in one way or another. Drugs. Sex. Alcohol. Whether you’re babysitting or running a camp, for goodness sake, will you just do your job?!! Because if you don’t, a guy shows up and kills you and all of your friends. A good metaphor lies right in plain sight but is clouded by the story, characters, setting and tone of the film you are watching. When it comes to horror films, any of those attributes can be highlighted or buried to express the intended “lesson” you are meant to learn. Like all ghost stories, even horror films have a lesson. Each and every one. Even those super weird ones on Netflix. This month we delve into metaphors for grief (THE BABADOOK, PET SEMETARY), obsession (SWITCHBLADE ROMANCE, SLITHER), isolation (THE GUEST, THE CRAFT) and much, much more. We hope you’ll join us for these screenings of classic and new films from the horror world for our month-long BEACON HORRORSHOW PART II. Mike Burdge Founder of and programmer for Story Screen. Lover of stories and pizza in the dark. When he isn't watching movies, you can find him reading things about people watching movies. He lives in Beacon, NY with his cat who is named after Kevin Bacon's character from Friday the 13th. #Newsletter #MikeBurdge

Story Screen has been operating in Beacon, NY for over the past two years, showcasing films from all walks of life at various businesses and locations throughout our bright and ever-growing city. We’ve screened love stories, science fiction epics, groundbreaking documentaries, timeless classics, hidden independent gems, life-changing foreign films and so much more. We have created a community built around watching and appreciating films together, and celebrating them for the true works of art that they are. We’ve come a long way from the small makeshift screen at the once Main Squeeze Juice Bar, to the cleared backwoods just off Fishkill Creek, to a permanent screening room in More Good on Main Street, and finally to transforming over a dozen businesses into one night only screening events. And that doesn’t even include our hard work outside of screening amazing films: creating a website featuring articles, reviews and podcasts from local lovers of all things film. Our design department has commissioned original artwork for each of the movies we’ve screened, created by local artists from all different mediums and walks of life. We’ve listened to punk rockers perform before the showing of Green Room , enjoyed burgers and fries especially prepared for our screening of Reservoir Dogs , supported #52FilmsByWomen, handed out slices of cheese pizza at Home Alone , distributed wrapped presents at all of our December screenings, and even hosted a live piano player and lounge singer at our Casablanca event, just to name a few of the things we are the most proud of during our 2 ½ years of operation. We at Story Screen have sought to elevate the community film watching experience using all the materials and opportunities available to us, and we are not too modest to say that we think it has turned out pretty fantastic thus far. Now it’s time to take the next step, (more of a gigantic leap), into the world of film exhibition. We are proud to unveil our plans for transforming part of the once Beacon Theater into the future home of Story Screen’s very own cinema. Teaming up with More Good and Small Town Drama, Story Screen will open its doors to film lovers of the Hudson Valley and beyond. We have so much magic and fun planned for our permanent space: live music, speakers, Q&A’s, performance art, conventions, movie marathons, immersive art exhibitions, private parties, game competitions, live podcasts, open discussion forums, and of course, multiple screenings every week of new, old, foreign and arthouse films. We are insanely excited to bring this platform to Beacon, the city that has helped us grow from a small 15 seat room in a juice bar showing Groundhog Day , to selling out a packed house of over 50 guests at Oak Vino Wine Bar for Casablanca just last week. While the plans to open our permanent space are being developed, rest assured, we will continue our programming at local businesses and special events over the next few months. We have an amazing program of seven films lined up for March. (You can check out the trailer here ) We will be donating all proceeds from these screenings to some organizations that are currently fighting on the front lines of some of the most topical issues facing our culture and society in this ever changing world. We hope to help in the best way we know how: by educating and uplifting others through film. The celebration of film has always been, not only the key driving force of why we started Story Screen, but also the reason it has become so successful. In a time where virtually any media can be sourced, streamed or viewed at home, film still serves as a particularly powerful form of art, one that has the strength to break down cultural barriers and generational differences, and the ability to make you both laugh and cry within ten seconds of each other. (You can learn more about our thoughts on that here ). We want to continue this pastime - that is as exciting and timeless as any other - of gathering together in a dark room with a group of fellow film lovers, and enjoying everything a movie has to offer. We hope you are just as excited as we are to watch some stories together. Mike Burdge Founder of and programmer for Story Screen. Lover of stories and pizza in the dark. When he isn't watching movies, you can find him reading things about people watching movies. He lives in Beacon, NY with his cat who is named after Kevin Bacon's character from Friday the 13th. #BeaconNY #StoryScreen #BeaconTheater

Let's get some full disclosure out-of-the-way: I've been doing Story Screen in Beacon, NY now for about 2 years. I don't know if that “about” means less than two years or a little bit more, I just know that I've been doing Story Screen for a while now, and I've talked to a lot of people about it. There's always been the question that goes along with having a name like Story Screen that begs to be asked, “What is it?” Story Screen is a bunch of different things to everybody, mainly me. Every time I get asked the question, I always think about the person I'm talking to before I answer. What kinds of things do they like? What kinds of movies do I think they would enjoy, what are they into? That's what makes answering the question so odd. Very simply put: Story Screen is a screen that tells a story. Story Screen is a love project of what it feels like to sit in a room and have a story told to you where the light is not from a fire, but from the images projected in front of you, whether it's on LED screens, 30mm or digital projectors, anything. Story Screen is about bringing people together to watch a story, not just to listen or learn, but to watch. It’s about giving yourself the opportunity to learn and feel and possibly even grow as a person from the story you take part in. I’m not saying every person is going to have a moral breakthrough when they watch, “Transformers 6: The Silent Army,” but it is possible to learn something even from a film you don’t agree with or do not even necessarily like. Story is defined as an account of imaginary or real people and events, told for entertainment. Story is important. To this humble little writer, it’s the most important thing that has ever and probably will ever exist. Story is who we are as a person, as people, as things. Our memories are our own stories, and we get to build upon and hold back whatever we choose, to whomever we choose, to paint a picture of it. From books to music, paintings and poetry, to sculptures and buildings and bridges and signs and roads and phones: an artist’s job is to tell a story. That’s what all art is; any medium, it’s a story. Film connects with a story through a combination of multiple mediums of art to form one cohesive display, and it is one of the most beautiful art forms that has ever existed. One of the greatest attributes that film has is that the imagination is specific. Film allows you to look at a gigantic, fantastic, wonderful world, seen through the eyes of one person: the director, bringing together hundreds to thousands, to even millions of different people, who work together to bring that one single vision to life: the story. As Story Screen grows to showcase films from all backgrounds, genres and varieties, we hope it will become clearer to everyone (including me) just what Story Screen can be. We can’t do it by ourselves and honestly, we don’t want to. We want to construct a film culture in the Hudson Valley that can be a beacon for those to come and immerse themselves in the art form that they love. Because what’s the point of sharing some of the most wonderful, imaginative tales of our world if the light and sound of our screen only hits empty chairs in a dark room? Mike Burdge Founder of and programmer for Story Screen, Beacon native, lover of stories. When he isn't watching movies, you can find him reading things about people watching movies. #MikeBurdge #Newsletter #Articles

(While this post tries to avoid spoilers whenever possible, it is highly recommended that you watch Swiss Army Man before reading on.) Not often do you come across a film like Swiss Army Man . It’s one of those experiences that sticks with you, from the first time it grabs you, to all the times you may revisit it for the rest of your life, either in memory or reviewing. The film functions on so many levels it's hard to know where to start, or whether some are even worth discussing. Like the obstacles our two heroes face, the metaphors and themes within this film force us to examine what it means to be a human being, and to hopefully overcome these truths changed for the better. Birth is hard, but rebirth is an entirely different beast to defeat. So I guess we can start with that one… Swiss Army Man is a story about a young, lonely man named Hank, who befriends a rotting corpse by the name of Manny. Manny’s farts allow him to serve as a "multi-purpose tool guy" for Hank to escape from the deserted island he has become trapped on. It is eventually revealed that Hank and his father have a strained relationship at best. The two accept lies and false-truths from one another in the form of automated birthday email cards once a year. We learn that Hank’s mother passed away early on in his life, but late enough for him to retain the memory of her, as well as his own sanctioned feeling of guilt when he remembers her. While Hank teaches Manny to talk, walk and about life in general, we see him repeat phrases that both his parents have said to him in the past, even going so far as to calling Manny “retarded” out of anger and impatience. In this sense, Hank is acting as a parental figure to Manny, a newborn child in the vast world with no knowledge of anything, but still with a strong eagerness to learn and grow. Hank overcomes his own parental hang-ups by imparting the good, (and sometimes the bad) onto his own “child.” But that’s just one way of looking at it. Hank’s journey with Manny is also very much about loneliness, friendship, love, loss, confidence and hope, just as much as it is about farts, boners, decapitating raccoons and riding on the bus. The intimacy shared by the two main characters grows throughout the story – mainly due to the ever-present possibility that Manny is really all in Hank’s head (and that he is, in fact, very sick). But the beauty of their bond and how they teach each other the same lessons over and over again is also reflective of the lies we tell ourselves in the real world on a day-to-day basis. It’s shown very early on that Hank considers himself a weak person, whether that is true or not. Hank’s self-image is that of a lonely boy thrown out like trash from a world that neither approves of or wants him. It is these characteristics that Hank projects onto Manny. As Manny learns, he teaches Hank some hard truths to accept about himself. And as Manny breaks through Hank’s shell of isolation and fear, with every acceptance, Manny powers up with a new skill to help Hank get a little closer to civilization, a little closer back to home. But that’s just one way of looking at it. When we first meet Hank, he is about to commit suicide, nearly hanging himself to avoid the fear of dying alone on his island. The only thing that stops (saves) him is Manny’s body washing up onto shore. At the end of the film, we learn that Manny (or whatever his real name is) was likely a jumper from a nearby bridge where suicides often occur. With this change in the lens, the journey of Hank and Manny as two people who have given up on life because they believe life has given up on them makes many of the interactions that much sweeter, but also that much darker. The dance scene in particular (which is actually a HALLOWEEN dance if you look closely; swoon) is quite sad when seen as these two anti-social misfits who get to experience the joy of freely moving to the music, even if the music is just in their heads. This of course is assuming that Manny was anything like Hank in his former life. In no way is this discussion meant to steer you into thinking all people with suicidal tendencies and depression exhibit the same traits in the real world. That is just simply not the case in any way. But looking at it through Hank’s eyes, it’s hard not to see how these two got along together so well, even after one of them died. They are both broken individuals, broken by the world, broken by their parents, and, finally, permanently broken by themselves. But that’s just one way of looking at it. The ending sequence in particular is a loaded message, directly from the writer/director duo of Daniels. Throughout the film farts are treated with a sense of whimsy. Hank thinks farts are disgusting and feels ashamed of them, so he hides them, holding them in at times or releasing them in private. Manny thinks they are beautiful and that they make him special. Hank explains that everyone in the real world would be disgusted if they saw how Manny acts, farting all the time, growing erections left and right and just speaking whatever comes to his mind, i.e. “bad talking.” Farts are utilized as a metaphor for our emotions, our feelings: the things that make us unique and vulnerable. Hank holding in his farts (emotions) is what got him lost in the first place, unwilling to rejoin society for fear of rejection. But through Manny’s constant flatulence and blunt advice, Hank is able to finally let his feelings (farts) out in front of the whole world to see. And just who is staged at the final scene on the shore of a California bay? His father, the woman of his dreams, a parent and child, two police officers (authority figures) and the media (a reporter and cameraman): all the things in normal society that we tend to act on our best behavior in front of. Hank’s adventure with Manny teaches him that even if people think something about you is disgusting, it’s really about how you feel about it. They are your farts (emotions) and you should be proud of them, freely. All of this lines up with the discussion of looking at the human body as the beautiful thing that it is, faults and all. And that extends to the soul living within the body. But that’s just one way of looking at it. The music is great. The directing style is out of this world (look up how little this movie was made for; your jaw will drop). Paul Dano and Daniel Radcliffe turn in some of the most honest, raw and fun performances of their careers. It’s funny. It’s sweet. It’s emotionally devastating in the best way. It’s filled with great set pieces and memorable dialogue. It’s able to make “Cotton Eye Joe” an emotionally moving song, (now THAT’S the miracle right there). The Daniels pitched the idea of Swiss Army Man as a "fart dramedy" where the first fart makes you laugh and the last fart makes you cry. That’s how they were able to pull this off in the first place to such the success that it became. You can look at every fart as a fart joke or you can look at every fart as an extension of the farts that have come before and what they mean for the farts that are still to come. You can choose to care about someone’s farts more than how they simply disgust you, or you can laugh yourself silly with some close friends at all the crude, body humor on display. But that’s just two ways of looking at it. Mike Burdge Founder of and programmer for Story Screen. Lover of stories and pizza in the dark. When he isn't watching movies, you can find him reading things about people watching movies. He lives in Beacon, NY with his cat who is named after Kevin Bacon's character from Friday the 13th. #November #MikeBurdge #Newsletter #SwissArmyMan #Perspective #2016 #Review

(Warning: The following article contains light spoilers for Green Room .) True suspense relies upon relatable, empathetic characters placed in believably dangerous scenarios. The thrill of tension comes from immersion into the atmosphere of a setting. When that setting has character, and the protagonists within it evoke genuine empathy, the result is a truly nail-biting experience. Jeremy Saulnier’s Green Room achieves this suspense by evoking an impressively accurate depiction of the punk scene, a topic whose previous silver screen portrayals often range from gag-inducing embarrassment to cartoony at best. Saulnier creates a familiar sense of place for any who have been involved in punk, and twists a feeling of nostalgia to create a horrific nightmare. Green Room follows the story of a four-piece punk band from Washington, D.C. (Arlington, VA technically,) on their tour across the United States. From the jump, Saulnier does an admirable job portraying the slogging of a band on tour, desperate to scrape enough gas money together to make it from gig to gig. Anton Yelchin leads the cast as Pat, the band’s relatively mild-mannered bassist. Yelchin, in what is tragically one of the final roles of his career, sells Pat as the film’s main protagonist and the audience’s surrogate; he’s typically the first to declare that, “this is fucked, man.” Yelchin’s joined by Alia Shawkat’s Sam on guitar, Joe Cole’s Reece on drums, and Callum Turner’s Tiger on vocals. Together they make “The Ain’t Rights,” a motley crew of characters whose traits seem instantly familiar. Between Tiger’s green hair and anarchy stick n’ pokes, Sam’s laid back demeanor, and Reece’s natural tendency to turn to aggression at a moment’s notice, the band fills all the conventional roles of a punk rock ensemble. From the moment we are introduced to the band, they are already in a place of desperation. Strapped for cash and in a run-down van plastered with familiar band stickers, “The Ain’t Rights” siphon gasoline to continue the next leg of their tour. Along the way, they crash with the promotor of their next show, Tad. After a night of partying, Tad conducts an interview to be premiered on a college radio station and printed in a zine. The scene, while dipping dangerously close to corny territory, (particularly when the band makes their stance against social media), allows for some fun dialogue reminiscent of late night talks with friends about favorite bands. Some punk favorites like Iggy Pop, Poison Idea, and the Misfits are mentioned as the crew discusses their choice for a “desert island band.” While lines like, “I don’t think I want to be in my seventies still listening to Minor Threat,” may feel a little cheesy, the interview does well to establish a feeling of nostalgic familiarity. The characters here are just ambiguous enough to feel reminiscent of the type of folk you might find shooting the shit at a house party or basement show, and serve as stand ins for likely acquaintances. The interview is cut short when Tad reveals that an overabundance of bodily fluids at the last show has left him unable to continue booking at the community center. His tale of vomit and fecal matter is a familiar story of shows getting shut down by cops or veteran’s halls no longer welcoming “aggressive music” after a window gets kicked in. Tad’s character is your typical grease-ball promoter, complete with a 12-inch Mohawk and promises that never quite seem to pan out. He’s the guy who’s always got a back-up plan, and offers “The Ain’t Rights” a consolation gig at a Mexican Restaurant to make up for the cancelled show. For anyone who’s played or attended a last minute relocated show, the scene at the Mexican restaurant is likely to bring sharp pangs of embarrassment. “The Ain’t Rights” play their brand of noisy punk rock to a sparse handful of patrons who barely outnumber the members of the band. When the ill-fated show reaps a meager payout, the band finds themselves desperate for cash to fill their tank in order to continue their tour. Without some sort of funds, their run is effectively over. They are all but ready to throw in the towel and siphon their way back home. This desperation is a feeling likely familiar to anyone who’s hopped in a van on a lengthy tour, where a single show can often make-or-break it. An off night, broken down van, or stolen equipment can doom a small act on tour. Just when it seems all hope is lost for “The Ain’t Rights,” Tad, the ever-resourceful promoter, offers another consolation gig that could save the day. He’s got a cousin who can hook the band up with a gig that’s close by and guarantees a solid payout. Just one catch, though: the venue is run by a gang of Nazi skinheads. It’s here that Green Room is most effective in laying the groundwork for an effective thriller. From the moment the band arrives at the venue, they are clearly not welcome. Tad’s cousin is a dick from moment one, the band is labeled with the misnomer of “The Aren’t Rights,” and nearly everyone present seems intent on staring a hole through our protagonists. The inherent anxiety of an unfamiliar venue in a remote town that’s part of a scene you clearly are not a part of is pervasive throughout the bulk of the film and incredibly effective at establishing tension. While a wholly Nazi-run venue may be a slightly exaggerated example, the discomfort of feeling out of place at a show is painfully relatable. This is especially true within punk, a scene that is an idealist refuge to all manners of misfits and outsiders but often becomes regimented to a clique-based structure. It’s easy to feel like an outsider at a show that’s out of your comfort zone, especially one largely populated with tight-knit locals. At the Nazi venue, the band finds themselves in over their heads at a place that evidently does not take kindly to newcomers. For those involved in punk, or any sub-genre for that matter, the tension felt by “The Ain’t Rights” the moment they step foot into the venue is intimately and personally relevant. Green Room firmly establishes a sense of place with a venue that is immediately recognizable. The walls are covered with stickers and graffiti, and every corner is host to a collection of empty beer cans. The venue evokes a typical punk bar, with dingy lighting and a PA that constantly blares familiar tunes between sets. Green Room presents a familiar place and twists it into a hostile one by adorning the walls with swastikas, SS symbols, and confederate flags. This subverts a space that is likely a source of comfort for anyone involved in the punk scene and transforms it into a house of horror. By the time the violence kicks off and the members of “The Ain’t Rights” become hunted by Nazi henchmen, bloodthirsty dogs, and a bone-chillingly cold and calculating Patrick Stewart, I was fully enraptured by the film’s atmosphere. A lifetime of attending and playing shows just like this one left me feeling a strong sense of empathy for the characters and the danger they were immersed in. From there, the film becomes a gripping thrill ride propelled by disturbingly realistic violence that comes suddenly and without warning. For the remainder of its brief ninety-minute run time, the film maintains a very present sense of danger that does not lift until the final moments. It preys upon a very specific sense of nostalgia that introduces horror to a setting familiar to anyone with a close relationship to punk. It uses the tensions and anxieties inherent to that sense of place that for many will hit very close to home. Jack Kolodziejski Jack makes drugs for a living, but not necessarily the fun kind. He enjoys international travel and discussing music, movies, and games in excruciating detail. #Newsletter #GreenRoom #JackKolodziejski #Perspective #November #Review

Get a taste of the spooky flicks Story Screen has in store for the best party of the year in Beacon, NY. ............................... The Witches (1990) by Bernadette Gorman If intrigue, spookiness, enchantments and general bewitchments are what you are after, look no further than Nicolas Roeg’s 1990 The Witches . Adapted from Roald Dahl’s 1983 novel, The Witches warns to always be wary of women with gloved hands, sensible shoes, scalp itch, and a purple tinge to their eyes. Helga Eveshim has raised her seven-year-old grandson, Luke, among tales of witches who assume a normal, female façade and despise odiferous children. Witches in this reality are bald, grotesque, have purple eyes and no toes. When Helga becomes ill, the pair travel to a seaside resort to recuperate and are plunged into England’s annual witch assembly. Luke discovers the “Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children” are the exact opposite, an English coven finally getting to meet the Grand High Witch herself. While investigating, he overhears their plan to turn the world’s children into mice, knowing the rest of society will do their dirty work and kill off the children population. The witches sniff Luke out as he is hiding and turn him into a mouse to make an example of him and stop him from foiling their plans. With Helga’s help, and another mouse/child friend named Bruno, Luke schemes to use the witches’ potion against them. Upon succeeding, turning the entire “Royal Society” into pesky and bothersome mice, Luke and Helga vow to use their gained knowledge to eradicate the entire world of witches. The Grand High Witch’s own assistant defects and uses her powers for good to transform Luke back into a human child. All seems well, but “I’m warning you. What makes [a witch] dangerous is the fact that she doesn’t look dangerous. You can never be sure if it’s a witch you are looking at or a kind lady – Mysterious things go on in the world of witches.” Buffy The Vampire Slayer (1992) by Liz Velez A film that set in motion an unstoppable wave of butt-kicking girl power, Joss Whedon’s, Buffy The Vampire Slayer has a different tone from the beloved follow-up TV series of the same name and is still just as fun. Set in California, our heroine Buffy Summers finds out vampires are all around her and what’s more, her destiny is to stake’em all by herself. A cheerleader fated to hunt vampires that underestimate her in large part due to her gender? Totally speaks to any teenage girl valued more for her looks than her skills. While some may take issue with Whedon’s particular brand of feminism, no one can plausibly deny the indelible mark Buffy Summers continues to make, inspiring women and girl power enthusiasts all over the world on an impressive scale. After watching this movie you’ll wanna slay vamps in a miniskirt, too. Sleepy Hollow (1999) by Emily Sylvester While, admittedly, Sleepy Hollow isn’t normally included on most horror lovers list of favorites, I love this movie, and I do consider myself someone who loves all things horror very much. Yes, it’s a Tim Burton film, so yes it falls prey to a few Tim Burton norms that really need to be put to rest ASAP, but it was 1999, so we weren’t that tired of him just yet. I like this movie for a number of reasons, I remember seeing it when it first came out and being taken aback by just how beautiful it was, full of dark and nightmarish, but at the same time beautiful imagery, drenched in blue and grey. It’s scary, but not disturbing, which sometimes is really nice. Occasionally you want to watch someone be dismembered by a chainsaw or see a child possessed by demons kill his whole family, but sometimes you need to get up early for work the next day and you need to sleep soundly. Sleepy Hollow is great for that; you don’t hate yourself after watching it. It’s sinister, spooky, sensorial, a great reimagining of a classic horror story. There’s also powdered wigs, people who look like they haven’t seen the sun in years, and Christopher Walken with razor sharp teeth. It’s great. #Review #Newsletter #TheWitches #BuffytheVampireSlayer #SleepyHollow #Horror #Dance #ScaryPants

Little Shop of Horrors is one of the greatest musical-films of all time. Period. The campiness, humor, look, tone and its execution of most musical tropes are unparalleled, even with the tongue-firmly-in-cheek world of off-branded musicals like The Rocky Horror Picture Show , Sweeney Todd and Rock ‘n’ Roll High School . Its power is almost limitless, from the opening title crawl, to the final wink at the audience; Little Shop of Horrors performs above and beyond expectations of a musical that is generally referred to as, “the story of a boy, a girl and a man-eating plant.” Based on the 1960 film, The Little Shop of Horrors and an Off-Off-Broadway play, which shared the dropping of the word “The” from its title, the 1986 film blended aspects from both mediums to form its story about a hapless flower shop assistant, the girl he adores, his boss, a demented sadist who works as a dentist and the mysterious plant that brings them all together or eats them. (Fun fact: the original 1960 film is considered a huge joke in the film world as it was made on the basis of a dare to see if a film could be shot in 2 days. It was. And that fact is gloriously apparent when you watch it). Howard Ashman, the writer of the original play, penned the script that Frank Oz brought to the screen. With a supporting cast of awesome cameos including: John Candy, Bill Murray and Christopher Guest (!!!), it almost feels more like a sketch comedy show with an overarching story that connects all the gags together. I would watch an entire movie of just Steve Martin’s sadistic, Orin Scrivello, DDS and Bill Murray’s masochistic Arthur Denton. Christopher Guest’s short appearance is almost too funny to watch and Jim Belushi’s late turn-up as licensing schmuck Patrick Martin, is the very definition of forced climax, but done with enough charm and bravado that it still plays honestly with the setting and characters involved. While the main stars are all wonderful (you’ll never hear a bad word from my lips or fingertips about Rick Moranis; the man is a machine of comedic timing and grace), all love and admiration has to go to Ellen Greene’s, Audrey (I). She is such a great character and presence, and Greene executes her with almost zero show of trying. It all just seems so natural, even though you know no one would talk like that and no one would possibly be comfortable wearing that! Her singing voice is unique and still hits all the right notes (both musically and true to the character), but when she finally lets the chords out to play in “Suddenly Seymour,” you can practically see the show stopping. It’s no surprise that Greene was the originator of the Audrey character in the musical play version and was the only actor brought from the medium into the film version. The producers and filmmakers involved just didn’t believe there could possibly be someone out there that could do it better. They even considered Barbara Streisand for the role, but decided against it. Barbara Streisand! In 1986! That’s chops, man. Then there’s the practically mind-numbing practical effects of Audrey II, the Levi Stubbs-voiced plant that causes all this mayhem. More than fifty performers were required to operate the multiple different versions of Audrey II, from cables in vines, to lip and head movement and more. Director Frank Oz was very particular about the mouth lining up with Stubbs dialogue and singing; he didn’t want any “hamburger flapping” when it came to audiences watching the performance. This proved insanely difficult for creature developers and performers alike, but the final product is stunning, and remains visually captivating even 30 years later. Audrey II feels real and alive, just as any of the other human performers do. Lastly, let’s talked about the famed alternate ending. If you haven’t seen it, I suggest you skip over to Youtube and look it up. It’s something else, alright. Oz originally intended to have the film share the Broadway musical’s ending, in which our two lovers are eaten by the evil space plant, who then proceeds to conquer the world. The final shot of multiple Audrey II’s ascending the Statue of Liberty while fighting off Army helicopters is one of the coolest things I never even thought I’d see. And if that sentence didn’t just give you goose-bumps, wake up, man. This is what life is all about. Apparently, the deaths of Seymour and Audrey (I) were so devastating to test audiences that Oz was forced to scrap the original finale, which cost over 5 million dollars (!!!) to make in the first place, and replace it with the happier ending that we’ve all come to know and love. Is either ending superior to the other? It’s tough to say. While the “happy ending” is perfect in its’ own regard, the effects-work and the cheeky darkness of the original ending is just too charming and, frankly, fucking cool to be beat. I can’t imagine how hard it was for everyone involved to scrap such a joyful, crazy ending. C’est la vie. All and all, the question of if Little Shop of Horrors still stands up today, 30 years after its original release upon the unsuspecting world, isn’t really even a needed question. The film being set in the 1960’s allows for its timelessness to stay just that. All the jokes still land, the performances are all incredible and memorable and the songs are still as catchy as ever. And it also contains one of this writer’s personal favorite moments in film: when Seymour and Audrey (II) see Scrivello hit Audrey (I) and realize that he sure looks like plant food to them. Absolutely engaging on every level. It’s just that timeless. Mike Burdge Founder of and programmer for Story Screen. Lover of stories and pizza in the dark. When he isn't watching movies, you can find him reading things about people watching movies. He lives in Beacon, NY with his cat who is named after Kevin Bacon's character from Friday the 13th. #December #LittleShopofHorrors #MusicalComedy #MikeBurdge #Newsletter #feedme #Review

The first thing that one could realize after watching, The Babadook is that it is not a horror movie. One could view it as a subversive, deep dive into ideas of grief, loneliness, troubled desperation and an inability to cope with reality. But, as most horror movies go, both are true, you silly movie watcher you. Using the titular character as an allegory for the deep-seeded, unnerving emotions rattling around our protagonist’s brain, it is never revealed whether said monster is in fact real or not. The audience is left to their own devices (and past understandings of the evidence shown) to answer the question the film so subtlety asks: how do you rid yourself of something you unknowingly let in, be it a monster of doubt or an unstable emotion that threatens to destroy everything around you? The answer presented to the audience for consideration at the closing moments of the film, is that you never rid yourself of it. You fight to kill it, you try to distance yourself from it, but you’ll never be rid of it. It stays with you forever, for it is a part of you and you are just as much a part of it. The best you can do is to lock it in a basement, feed it from time to time, and take the bad days as willingly as the good ones come. Jennifer Kent’s film is paced with the surgical precision of just that: slowly slicing away at the obvious to reveal the meat and the bone of the underlining story. Our protagonist’s journey ventures from docile and weak to overly paranoid and extremely dangerous, only to fall back, after acceptance to a more comfortable docile and stronger sense of what she thought was weak. Mike Burdge Founder of and programmer for Story Screen. Lover of stories and pizza in the dark. When he isn't watching movies, you can find him reading things about people watching movies. He lives in Beacon, NY with his cat who is named after Kevin Bacon's character from Friday the 13th. #Newsletter #Review #MikeBurdge

David Fincher’s underappreciated Gone Girl , while marketed as a mystery thriller, has a core focus on the relationship between its two main characters, Nick and Amy Dunne. To be fair, it is not the typical kind of love story we here at Story Screen have been covering and screening this month. The relationship of Nick and Amy Dunne is dark, vile, twisted, pulpy, manipulative, and the dictionary definition of unhealthy. However, that’s not the reason I find the film unique. About halfway through the film, Nick Dunne (Ben Affleck) pays Desi Collings (Neil Patrick Harris) a visit to see if he can get information on Amy’s (Rosamund Pike) previous relationship, and why they broke up in high school. Desi is confused why Nick drove such a long distance to ask him these questions, to which Nick replies, “I thought there would be another side to this story.” That sums up the entire movie’s method of storytelling. Instead of focusing on a single character, David Fincher and Gillian Flynn present both sides of Nick and Amy’s story. This is not something you see in a lot of movies about relationships. It’s much more typical to only view one character’s perspective - how they feel, what they want to say, and how they react when the relationship faces turmoil. Can you imagine how different 500 Days of Summer would have been if you actually saw Summer’s side? When taken separately, Nick and Amy’s perspectives are woefully unreliable. The idea of trusting someone solely on what they say versus tangible evidence is a big theme of the film. When both unreliable sides are shown simultaneously, the shocking truth is revealed. If Fincher and Flynn just focused on Nick throughout the entire movie, we would think he’s a far more evil and conniving person than he really is. We would see through Nick’s shit eating grin, that he’s a nasty husband who abused and murdered his wife, and he’s doing his best to lie to everyone so he can get away with her murder. He’s a cheater and a liar, for sure, but he’s not the murderous bastard everyone thinks he is. That’s because Fincher and Flynn do something brilliant with Amy: not only does Amy fool all of the characters in the movie, she fools us, the audience, via her journal. At first, Amy’s journal is presented as fact. The movie even goes as far as showing a scene where Nick pushes Amy to the ground with the intention of hurting her even more. This flashback was to show Nick as an abusive monster and to display Amy as sympathetic. It’s later revealed, via Amy’s perspective, that this scene was total bullshit, (or was it? It is kind of ambiguous). This reveal completely turns the tables on Nick, and shows him, while still a cheater, to be just an oaf who’s in way over his head, dealing with a completely psychotic wife. It’s almost like when you’re shown both sides, your bias towards who you want to side with completely changes. How about that? What David Fincher and Gillian Flynn are trying to say with Gone Girl is that humans are complicated folk, and relationships aren’t completely black and white, like those movies on the Lifetime channel seem to convey over and over. The movie takes the story of one of those typical films and puts actual human characters inside of it, making you decide if Amy is justified in her actions against Nick, or if Nick is a sympathetic character who has a manipulative psychopath for a wife. “Sometimes I find the correct answer is the simplest,” says Officer Gilpin halfway through the film, “I’ve never agreed with that,” replies Officer Boney. The film leaves you cold, confused, conflicted, and angry, and I believe the best films - and this applies to art in general - are supposed to leave you with many emotions to consider in the end. Jeremy Kolodziejski Jeremy is younger than he looks, and has passionately studied the art and craft of filmmaking for as long as he can remember. He is currently a freelance wedding videographer, and is also heavily involved in Competitive Fighting Games. IG: jeremyko95 #Newsletter #Review #Love #GoneGirl #DavidFincher #JeremyKolodziejski

Mothers are important – whether through their presence or their absence, or the results, both positive and negative outcomes – they inform the children they bear. Our moms are our teachers, guiders, protectors, and our most genuine connection to the past. They are the heroines of every life. To celebrate, here is a list of fictional moms from films that have left an impression on me, both good and bad. Sarah Connor – Terminator 2: Judgment Day The mother of all movie moms. Sarah's journey between The Terminator and Judgment Day is a wicked one, one we don't see, let alone learn all that much about. But there is no denying the events of the first film took a serious toll on her, her attitude, and the role she believes she plays in the world as a whole. She inadvertently, (although again understandably), places much of the weight of this new destiny on her son, John, the future savior of all of mankind. The attributes of John that allow him to be the great soldier and leader his father Kyle speaks of in the first film, are all present in this version of Sarah. However, the world surrounding future-John and Kyle is a harsh and violent one, the possibility of death quite literally raining down on friends and family at any time. Sarah's world is a societal one, full of laws and order, where these characteristics and ways of thought are deemed irregular and inexcusable. But through this, however misguided, Sarah chooses to prepare her child for the future she knows he will have to fight for, understanding that his love for her is not as important as his ability to survive and help others in the world. Beatrix Kiddo – Kill Bill Vol.1 & 2 The Bride is a brutal force of nature, symbolic of all women who have loved and been broken, whether physically or emotionally, by the one they loved. Her story as a mother begins with her visit to Vernita Green, a previous cohort in an international assassination squad, who has also become a mother in the lapse of their friendship. Where Beatrix's child - and her chance at a normal life - was stolen from her before she even met her daughter, Vernita has been allowed to raise her own child in the comforts of a seemingly average, suburban life. The conflicts at play within Beatrix throughout the two volumes are established right from the get-go with this scene between two mothers: The tender love a mother can give to her child, and the violent extremes to which a mother can go to protect/avenge her child. Mrs. Bates – Psycho While not the best of mother figures, the level of Mrs. Bates love for her son Norman, however disturbing and overbearing it may be, should still be pointed out. If nothing else, Mrs. Bates gave her son a sly intellect and fairly decent upbringing considering their surroundings. We never truly find out just how she and her new lover passed, whether by an accident or something more sinister from either of the Bates. But Norman loved his mother enough to keep her around, both in body and spirit. She must have done something to deserve that. Bambi's Mom – Bambi A movie that continues to teach four year olds that mom will eventually die someday. Bambi's mom, Princess of the Forest, raises her son all on her own, guiding him and teaching him the ways of the forest, a place he may one day live to rule. Her strength and kindness are the major attributes passed on to Bambi when he is alone following her death at the hands of a hunter (I'm not crying...) and pieces of her identity and relationship to Bambi are personified in the friendships he forms with Thumper and Flower. While Bambi's father remains never present throughout his early life, it is the lessons and values his mother imparted on him that turn him into the great stag he becomes. Mrs. Gump – Forrest Gump Chock full of catchy phrases and life motto's, Mrs. Gump always did what was best for her boy, continuously putting him before herself. From sleeping with the school principal to get him a good education, to consistently reminding him that he is no different from everyone else, Forrest Gump is one of the most adored characters in film. And he holds that title because of his humor, confidence, devotion to his loved ones and simple explanations of life's hardest challenges. Where do you think he got that? Meg Altman – Panic Room Protecting your child at any cost is an idea that even those without children can understand. But never has a better example of this been put on screen than in David Fincher's claustrophobic, B-movie-style Panic Room , where a mother and daughter fight against three burglars invading their home. Through every choice and mishap, Meg's only concern is the safety and well-being of her daughter, who herself exudes the same level of toughness and quick-thinking as her mother, going to lengths that are unimaginable to counter a situation that is equally so. Ellen Ripley – Aliens On the cusp of realizing her own daughter has died, Ellen Ripley immediately turns her maternal instincts to the young Newt, whose own parents have just recently passed. The camera work in the film is astounding when focusing on the relationship between these two women; they are always framed together as equals, eye-level, never with Ripley looking down on Newt, even when she needs to be authoritative. Ripley falls into the role of mother very naturally, even to us as viewers of the series – she spends most of the end of the first film putting her own safety on the line to rescue a cat! Pitting her against another great mom in the film, the Alien Queen, only drives home the themes of maternity and protecting your children, that make this film not just one of the greatest sequels, not just one of the greatest sci-fi action films, but one of the best movies ever made. Mrs. Robinson – The Graduate A woman of as much power and confidence as constant contradiction, Mrs. Robinson is just as much the focus of the film as Dustin Hoffman's Ben. As we watch Ben begin to gain confidence and assert himself, we also witness Mrs. Robinson's larger-than-life demeanor slowly deteriorate as his actions constantly usurp her control and manipulations. The more we learn about her past, and how she actually feels about her life, the more we learn that she is a layered person, in constant struggle, not with the choice of “what to do,” but with the question, “What have I done?” Her lessons and attacks on Ben and her daughter may lead them to stand up for themselves, but - as one of the most taunting endings proves - she may very well as simply set them up for the same life of regret she stumbled into herself. Meredith Quill – Guardians of the Galaxy Peter's mom isn't just a great mom to him; she's a great mom to all of us. We can all feel the love and pain Peter Quill feels for his mother, both while she is alive, however briefly, and long after she has left. She gave us great music from the 70's to add to our Spotify playlists, and she is overflowing with a kind of love for her child that many can connect to with their own mothers. The love she gave Peter is one of the most important parts of his character; heavily indicative of his personality and many of the traits we have come to know him for. Her nickname for him was Star-Lord, and now the galaxy knows him by this name, which hides all the pain and love he holds. Lena Younger – A Raisin in the Sun A woman who came from the beginning of the 20th century, the mother figure of the classic film is a testament to the different strengths a woman can hold in the family. At a time when the reality of slavery was still close enough to touch - a time when this family would quite certainly never have been - Mama Younger transcends. She sticks up for every member of her family, sometimes not in the way they want, but always in the way they need. Her famous monologue, summarizing the ideals of “looking at the whole picture” when considering how you feel about someone, is proof enough. She is the embodiment of a steadfast lesson in accountability and compassion. There is always something left to love. Albert Goldman – The Birdcage Although quite panicky (and moody af), Albert is nevertheless a solid mother to Val, the son of his husband, Armand. When Albert first hears news of the impending marriage that drives the film's narrative, he immediately jumps to protecting Val, who he thinks is far too young to be settling down. But once he accepts the inevitable, realizing that Val and his fiancé are very much in love, he goes through endless ventures to ensure their happiness, even belittling himself to the point of throwing away the very person Val has come to love and admire as a parental figure. He might be a little foolhardy from time to time, but if he's good enough for Robin Williams, he's damn sure good enough for the rest of us. Pamela Voorhees – Friday the 13th 1980’s Mom of the Year, Mrs. Voorhees, who shamefully isn't as well revered as her son, Jason, is undoubtedly one of the toughest mamas of the horror genre. After her son accidentally drowns in the waters of Camp Crystal Lake, she murders the counselors who should have been watching over him. Then years later, when a bunch of pot-smoking hippies and Kevin Bacon decide to reopen the camp, she murders them too, all the while speaking to (or pretending to be?) Jason. Unfortunately, the “hero” of the film finally mows her down, but luckily for us, her son returns for 134 adventures of taking out horny kids while his mom continues to talk to him. That's fam. Lorraine Baines – Back to the Future Not to be confused with Lorraine Baines-McFly, who, at the beginning of the film, is kind of a saddened figure who passive-aggressively takes out her disdain for her situation on her children, and by the end of the film, just kinda seems doped up on happiness. No, this is about 1955 Lorraine, the girl who chased boys, calls boys and sits in parked cars with boys. Unfortunately, the boy in question here is her own son from the future, Martin Seamus McFly. Now, while many are quick to rightfully dismiss this situation as kind of freaky and incestuous, I've always seen the love-at-first-site attraction from Lorraine towards “Calvin Klein” as a subconscious maternal love, one that her teenage mind misinterprets as obsession. She wants to be with Marty at all times, following him home at one point, and proclaiming herself that she doesn't know what about him makes her feel so happy. It's an odd example, but a VERY different way to explore the bond between mother and son. Tommy's Mother – Goodfellas C'mon. What mother lets you borrow cutlery in the middle of the night without an explanation? She's the best!! Peg Boggs – Edward Scissorhands As the one who first connects with and empathizes with Edward, Peg is forever the moral center of the outsider's interactions with the rest of the town. While he initially intrigues most people in town, they are later outraged by fear and misunderstanding. Peg however, embraces Edward and his differences as special and unique, and stays on his side until the very end. Even when an accidental slip from Edward slices the fragile hand of her daughter, Peg still tends to her motherly duties for both of them, cleaning and calming Kim while telling everyone it was just a mistake. Mother – The Jerk Off the bat, tuna fish salad on white bread with mayonnaise, a Tab and a couple of Twinkies for her adopted son's birthday? That's a win in my book. But the mother of Steve Martin's Navin, however drenched in comedy the whole situation may be, is a perfect example of the care one can show an outsider, regardless of the difference of appearance or background. It's she who consoles Navin when he throws his fits of feeling different from everyone else in the family, and it's she who affirms the belief that all people can get along: “I'd love you if you were the color of a baboon's ass.” Molly Weasley – The Harry Potter Series Easy enough to call Mrs. Weasley one of the best movie moms of all time with her raising seven (arguably) awesome children, and still having time and love for Harry Potter, who she sees needs a parental figure of the loving nature. Throughout the series, Harry acquires and loses fathers and brothers who give him confidence, connection and talent, and even has a memory of his own mother, who gave her life to save him with literal love. But it is in Molly Weasley, and how she treats not only him but also her own children and husband, that truly teaches the Boy Who Lived what maternal love feels like. Elaine Miller – Almost Famous I tried to write something better than ANYTHING in this scene, but nothing can even come close to The Frances: Mike Burdge Founder of and programmer for Story Screen. Lover of stories and pizza in the dark. When he isn't watching movies, you can find him reading things about people watching movies. He lives in Beacon, NY with his cat who is named after Kevin Bacon's character from Friday the 13th . #Newsletter #Articles #Moms #June2017 #MikeBurdge

Story Screen, for those of you who may not know, is currently operating in Beacon, NY as a pop-up film exhibitor. Our website: StoryScreenBeacon.com features film reviews and articles written by local film lovers and filmmakers alike, as well as amazing, original artwork made for beloved movies by some of Beacon’s most talented artists, using all sorts of mediums. We are currently working on an educational platform that we will be making available to the public very soon, centered around the concept of film as an art form. Using this, we hope to engage with people through film in an entirely new and exciting way. But first, I’d like to explain why I believe film is art: Film is THE collaborative art form. From hundreds to thousands of people, all working around a cohesive vision, to the billions of people who choose to experience that vision, the art of film is a seemingly never-ending cycle of contemplation, hard work, extraordinary skill and unified artistry. Film combines the beauty of multiple art mediums: performance, writing, music, design and much, much more. It is a major contributor to culture, as many consider it to be the most easily accessible approach to communicating a story. Some even argue that film was the dominate art form of the Twentieth Century. And why shouldn’t they? We’ve watched film grow as a collected culture throughout our entire lives, and some of us have even chosen to look beyond our years to the incredible stories of its origins and evolutions. Film is a marvel. It's sometimes hard to choose between the vocabulary of “film” or “movie.” They are, by their very definitions, one and the same. But the term “movie” can so easily lead to thoughts of popcorn, soda and candy, crowded rooms full of strangers in the dark, and the excitement and thrills of date night. Large corporations and studios have learned to make the big bucks on movies by streamlining them and making many of them identical (creating a larger platform of accessible audiences), but that does not mean that films that are considered slow moving or boring by some are not successful or “good.” These films choose to challenge, to inspire. Many people do not see this problem, or even the difference, because of a lack of education in what a “movie” can truly offer the viewer: escape? Yes. Distraction? Absolutely. But also, perhaps, a form of momentary transcendence and enlightenment. Change. It can be hard to remember that there is a healthy selection of “movies” that ask for contemplation, review of philosophy and the possibilities of ourselves and the world. Writer Jeff Goins put it perfectly: “Art surprises. It wounds. It changes. Entertainment makes us feel good. While entertainment generally leaves us unchanged, art breaks our hearts, causes us to cry and reveals our own inadequacies.” Classic Cinema, Art Cinema and Blockbuster Cinema differ greatly, but they all want to tell us a story. And it is what we gain from that story, and how it may or may not change us, that is the true power of the art of film. Even the act of watching film can arguably be labeled as its own art form. Critiquing and the review of film can expose beauties that a single viewer may not have noticed. Film criticism, in all its variety, holds proof to the power of film as both art AND entertainment. So this brings me to education, and the place film holds in that field, not just in educating those about film itself, but by using it to educate culturally. Film breaks down barriers, teaching information on an emotional level, while engaging intellect through imagination and repetition. Young people are becoming increasingly visually literate, and this is a great thing to nurture. Film literacy can speak to cultural aspects of life that some would otherwise have a hard time fully comprehending, such as racism, political injustice or homophobia, to name a few. Like documentaries, the story of a film is meant to engage and inform, to cause a reaction. People in general can relate to film no matter their family background or learning abilities. Film provides a gateway to other peoples' experiences, and it can reshape how we perceive and think about the world. Even children with moderate to severe learning difficulties and disabilities have proven a stronger relation to film when learning about any subject. It’s part of what the magic in “movie magic.” It transcends. Film is a universal language. We at Story Screen want to use this language, not only inspire but to specifically educate the next generation of filmmakers and critics in the Hudson Valley. This is where Story Screen originally spawned from: wanting to share great movies and talk about how they work and how they don’t work and why? We want to find that spark and where it comes from. That’s how you learn to start your own spark. Making your own film is a monumentally different feeling than anything you can ever feel. Seeing an effort that takes so much time and so many people and such a variety of skills up on the big screen is soul warming. It gives its creators a level of validation that I liken to being in love and being loved in return. And it’s not just for the jobs behind and in front of the cameras that we wish to educate; it’s for the ones in front of the screen too. Film, specifically, can allow the nervous aspiring writer/reviewer an easy start. A book may be too intimidating at first, however film is considered a recreational activity by many, not so much an artistic experience worthy of dissection on a story and theme level. But it is. And we can show you how. But it’s rough out there. Unpaid internships for filmmaking, like many professions of today, are becoming a problem for young people looking for experience in the field. We hope to create a difference in the standard for our students. Film studies must continue to build consideration that it is just as viable an option to our youth as fine art or music. Allowing the next generation, from all walks of life, the opportunity to learn and understand film is paramount. Moving forward, diversity is key. We need diverse minds and lives to create diverse stories. Building a community for film lovers and makers to learn about and discuss their passion for a shared medium of art is a HUGE part of why Story Screen exists and what it aims to do, not just as an entity, but also as a business and educational resource and alternative. And it can be entertaining, too! Stay tuned as we begin to release articles and theories that will help broaden the scope of how film can help us learn, not just about itself, but about each other and ourselves. Mike Burdge Founder of and programmer for Story Screen. Lover of stories and pizza in the dark. When he isn't watching movies, you can find him reading things about people watching movies. He lives in Beacon, NY with his cat who is named after Kevin Bacon's character from Friday the 13th . #Articles #Newsletter #MikeBurdge #StoryScreen #Education