I may have mentioned, once or twice, that I am like many Hispanics in that I love horror movies. So it’s no surprise that just about the only contests I have on this site consist of tickets to see horror movies.
For example, I’m offering you the chance to win passes to a screening of Ouija, the new horror movie coming out on Halloween. In the film, a group of friends awaken the dark powers of an ancient spirit board (this was probably not very smart of them).
You can catch it in one of the following cities:
New York City
All you have to do is comment on one of my posts (including this one) about anything you please. Just make sure to tell me what city you plan to see the movie in, and tell me what names (up to two people) I should put on the guest list.
I’ll announce the contest winners in the next week or so.
The Ouija board tells me I will have many takers on this one.
As I am fond of mentioning, I live in beautiful Southern California, where I frequently soak up the sun, hike in the hills, hit the beach, and hobnob with celebrities.
Well, in truth, I have rarely hobnobbed in general, and even fewer times with anyone who could remotely be called a celebrity. But we LA residents do see A-listers out and about on occasion.
Very few of those stars are Hispanic, as I’ve pointed out before. But now we have statistical evidence that Latinos are not getting their shot at the silver screen.
A new study shows that over the last six years, there has been “no meaningful difference in the representation of characters from underrepresented backgrounds.”
Since 2008, the number of Hispanics onscreen rose from 3.3 percent to 4.9 percent. Latinos are about 17% of the American population, so Hispanic representation in film would have to triple to even be close to reflecting reality.
In fact, another study found that there are actually “fewer Latino lead actors in the entertainment industry today than there were seventy years ago.” Ouch…
Now is a good time to point out that Hispanics (including me) are avid fans of the cinema. In fact, Latinos bought more than one-quarter of the tickets to movies last year. And we don’t even want to get into how much we support certain genres (e.g., horror movies) more than most people.
But there was one positive note in the report. Surprisingly, Hispanic females were more likely to be featured in popular films than were white females or Asian females.
Still, even that comes with a caveat. You see, “Hispanic females were also more likely to be shown either partially or totally nude onscreen than any other race [and] seem to be more hypersexualized than their female counterparts from other groups.”
Congratulations to Electric Siesta, who won the contest to see Halley, a new Mexican zombie movie.
We hope to receive a review from Electric Siesta about how much he liked the movie. That is, assuming that a zombie doesn’t bite a chunk of his flesh off, thereby turning him into one of the undead and sending him lumbering across the countryside in search of fresh victims.
Like many Hispanics, I love horror movies. Zombies, in particular, are perennially cool in my book. So I’m especially pleased that this site’s latest contest combines zombies with the future of filmmaking.
The film turns the classic zombie film into a hauntingly surreal reflection on alienation and loneliness. Halley follows the main character’s surrender to his body’s decomposition, as he withdraws from the world of the living.
I will provide the winner of the Halley contest with a free screening access code. To be entered into the drawing, all you have to do is comment on one of my posts (including this one) about anything you please.
If you win, I’ll email you the code. By the way, I won’t make your contact info public, so don’t worry about that.
I’ll announce the contest winner in the next week or so.
Our babysitter is a recent immigrant (from Africa). She was confused about the concept of Halloween, so she asked me to explain it to her.
Halfway through mentioning the various aspects — ghosts and goblins, people watching horror movies, children going door to door for candy, adults getting drunk, women dressing trashy — she asked, “I don’t understand how that is all one holiday, and what do pumpkins have to do with anything?” She’s right. This is one seriously schizophrenic party.
And I didn’t even get into the roots of the holiday, which are in the pagan celebration of Samhain. And of course, I was remiss in not mentioning the Latin American custom of Dia de los Muertos, which has established more of a presence in the United States over the last few years, largely because of the booming Hispanic population (you’re welcome).
But regardless of how you celebrate today, be sure to maintain the spirit of the holiday. You know, like the kids do.
It’s the end of the year, and according to blogger tradition, I am supposed to list the top ten greatest Latino moments or the top five worst Hispanic travesties or the top sixteen weirdo stories involving Latinos.
But honestly, who has the time to accumulate all that data?
So instead I’m posting the trailer for Mama, a new movie from Guillermo del Toro, the creator of the amazing Pan’s Labyrinth. The trailer is bilingual (sort of), and as I’ve stated many times, if there is one thing that Hispanics love (other than Jan Brewer, of course), it’s horror movies.
The film opens in January and looks like an appropriately creepy way to start the new year.
So I recently watched the horror-comedyAttack the Block, a British movie about an alien invasion of the inner-city projects. Yes, it’s as preposterous as it sounds, and while far from brilliant, it’s a fun ninety minutes.
However, I made a classic internet mistake after I saw the movie: I read other people’s comments on the film.
First off, thanks to Quickbeam and Allegra for their thoughtful comments on my last post (“Believe”). I appreciate their faith, in every sense of the word.
Now, my previous post may have given people the impression that I base everything upon logic, and disdain the supernatural or unexplainable. That’s not true, of course, because I love a good ghost story.
I just don’t love them as much as my mom does.
For proof, let me regale you with the time that my mother and I got into an argument at the video store. It was the mid- 1980s, and the selection was sparse in those pioneering days of the VCR. Still, it was probably a little odd to see me, a sullen teenager, arguing to rent “Raging Bull” while my mother insisted on getting “The Omen 3.”
You see, my mother, about whom I’ve written before, has very definite ideas about what constitutes fine cinema. By her criteria, a great film must include at least one of the following elements:
A car chase with the monstrous villain in hot pursuit
An unstoppable killer robot/android/cyborg
A hidden door leading to a hellish parallel dimension
A good-looking vampire
A winged demon ripping people’s souls out through their chests
These are pretty great standards, of course, and I have no issue with them. But at one point, I thought they were a little too restrictive. Could a great movie also feature subtle character development, dramatic perspectives on another era, or startling insight into the human condition?
Well, my mother would point out that such factors only slow down the movie and delay getting to the really good part where that slimy alien creature devours the lead astronaut’s head.
In a way, she’s correct.
Horror movies have been unfairly maligned as empty, moronic time-wasters – the creepy third cousin at the cinematic family reunion. Even mainstream comedies get more respect.
But films of this genre are often the cultural barometer of where we stand. In addition, they can serve as a cathartic release for our fears and pain. This may especially be true for those of us who have witnessed violence or suffered through the abrupt departure of loved ones, like my mother has.
The history of Latin America, in truth, has been one long horror movie for some time. I don’t know if Hispanics are more likely to embrace scary movies, but I wouldn’t be surprised if this were true.
For example, one of my friends, a man who is originally from my family’s home country of El Salvador, has a vast treasure trove of horror movies. His wife, born and raised in America, tolerates his fascination and puts up with the overflowing boxes of tapes and discs, all of which offer some kind of gruesome imagery.
With so much real-life horror in our backgrounds, we seem well-suited to fictional depictions of terror. Perhaps this is why my mother constantly overrode my fledgling attempts at film snobbery when I was younger.
More than once, she would arrive home from a hard day of work to announce that she had stopped at the video store on the commute. Then she would enthusiastically proclaim, “I picked up the ‘Seven Doors of Death’!”
But let me be clear. She actually has good taste, singling out classics like “Rosemary’s Baby” and contemporary masterpieces like “The Descent” for high praise. She dismisses substandard fare with a direct “That is not scary” – the ultimate insult for a horror film.
Maybe because I grew up on them, or because I’m Latino, or because movies like “The Others” are so damn cool, I still love these kinds of films. Our joint appreciation for terrifying spectacles is one of the things my mother and I have in common.
For this reason, I have never understood my friends who say they don’t know what to do for entertainment when their parents visit. When my mom drops by to see my wife and me, we can always just pop in a DVD of “The Thing.”