Experienced the last twenty-three days of the '80s. Saw John Carpenter's The Thing at an impressionable age. That's about it.
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The Manitou 1978
The Manitou is a monolithically ridiculous proto-body horror, replete with some noble but utterly bizarre ruminations on white guilt. However, its steadfast determination to deliver a cavalcade of sheer, cerebrum-obliterating lunacy - particularly in its final stretch - make it impossible to ever dismiss. I mean, the final showdown sees Tony Curtis and his witch doctor companion (Michael Ansara) battle an ancient Native American demon for the soul of Susan Strasberg, who floats topless on a hospital bed between them…
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Monolith 1993
There's nothing super-special about this late-to-the-party cash-in of urban body snatcher fare like The Hidden and The Borrower; the alien may be pyrokinetic this time, but the plot is essentially identical. Monolith, however, simply gets by purely on charm alone - namely that specific early-1990s straight-to-video kind of charm and the fact that it stars a majestically mulleted Bill Paxton.
Don't get me wrong, there is fucking tonnes that is awful about this thing: in the pantheon of buddy cop…
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The Ninth Configuration 1980
Still one of the most utterly indefinable, compellingly frustrating and infinitely intriguing films I've ever seen. And even as someone who is completely detached from religion, I find that The Ninth Configuration has much more to say about theological grappling than all 161 minutes of Scorsese's Silence.
Plus it includes a character who is adapting Shakespeare plays for dogs ("It's a labour of love, but damn it, someone has to do it!").
R.I.P. William Peter Blatty.
