Horror
There’s Something in The Fog
A few nights ago, I was driving with my friend Ian into the wilds of western New Jersey. My girlfriend’s parents live out there, in a town named Califon (fun fact: the town was supposed to be called California, but that was too long for the sign, so…) and her car had broken down while she was out there visiting. We were the rescue team. It was raining. The bulk of the ride, a 35-mile straight shot out Route 78, was about what you’d expect. It was late, so there wasn’t much on the road aside of the occasional long
A Most Horrific Man
The earliest memory I have of The Fog is catching it during one of those monster movie marathons channels used to run on weekends in October, the ancestors of Joe Bob Briggs’ MosterVision. I was at my grandparent’s house down the shore and expecting the usual fare of kaiju or schlocky 50s B-movie monsters. What I got, though… One scene in particular stands out: when the young boy Andy walks along the windswept beach and finds a piece of driftwood emblazoned with the name of the ship that is haunting Antonio Bay. I didn’t get much farther than that –
Panels & Frames: Fun With the Dead
Hi, I am Ian Gonzales and I have opinions. I’ve been writing for Unwinnable since the summer of 2010. I mostly write about comic books and movies (hence the title, Panels & Frames) and I curate our annual Best Comics list. This is a place where I will ruminate on whatever catches my fancy or my ire in this all encompassing box we call culture. So, here we are. Today, I am here to write about zombies.
I’m not Afraid of Zombies, I’m Afraid of Us
In last week’s episode of The Walking Dead, a zombie ripped someone’s throat out and then that guy got up and ripped someone’s stomach open and before you know it a bunch of zombies were attacking a bunch of people until the humans came in and busted the zombies’ heads open with pipes and knives and I thought “Meh, that doesn’t seem that bad.”
It’s Just a Show, I Should Really Just Relax
I don’t scare easily. I can get as startled as the next guy, and the typical realms of death and gore usually manage to shake me, but getting a good honest scare out of me through a movie is tough. It may be because I didn’t really grow up with any of the classics – I saw The Blair Witch Project as a youngster and was frightened for a whole week afterwards, but I didn’t see Halloween, The Exorcist, Nightmare on Elm Street or any of the other classics until high school, when I started looking at them with a
The Night Fear Came Home
I’ve been a fan of the Halloween movie franchise for a long time. The first flick in the series that I saw was Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers. I was at a friend’s house for a birthday party sometime in the fall of 1989. We watched the last half of the movie before my parents picked me up. See, I wasn’t allowed to watch most R-Rated movies until I was 11 (unless they were on broadcast TV). So I got my fill of gory ’80s horror while visiting friends’ houses or sneaking peaks at Fangoria at 7-Eleven.
The Staying Power of Fear
Most people, I believe, secretly love their fear. They get caught up in the goose bumps and the quick inhalation of breath and the rush of adrenaline that pervades the body when being scared. Why do most people laugh immediately after a good scare? I think the body loves it. To this effect, I love horror movies. Many nights, my wife and I spend an inordinate amount of time scrolling through Netflix’s often dismal offerings, debating on which movie to watch. Usually, though, we settle for a movie from our own collection, a movie with a proven track record of
