Hostel: Part III

It's always a mixed blessing when a horror movie franchise transitions from theatrical releases to direct-to-DVD ones. On one hand, it's nice--most of the time--to see series continue that otherwise couldn't, given the lackluster box office take of the last installment. On the other hand, the end result is almost always a letdown.

How big of a letdown depends on the intent of the filmmakers. Are they looking to make a good film or just keep the trademark alive for the studio? Generally speaking, I think the former is usually the case, although you look at something like what the Hellraiser series became, and it's easy to cynically start to believe the latter. Unfortunately, the economic realities of making a direct-to-DVD genre film means that even when intentions are good, the final product is not.

Hostel: Part III is, for the most part, a good film in the sense that it's competently made, seamlessly fits into the series in terms of both plot and visuals, and there are a couple of neat twists. Unfortunately, it also has a distinct lack of ambition and in at least one instance, the lack of any real budget turned what could have been a great scene into a terrible one.

Spoilers follow...

The decision to move the action from Slovakia to Las Vegas wasn't a terrible one, although I think they could have squeezed at least one more film out of the original setting. The problem with the story is that it doesn't build on the really interesting mythology of the first two films. While Hostel: Part II provided more detail about the Elite Hunting organization, Part III barely makes an effort. Sure, I guess it's nice to know they have an American branch, but aside from the tattoos, there isn't much of a connection. The bit where the audience wagers on the results of the torture sessions is more silly than anything else, and seems like a bit too much of a departure from the concept of Hostel: The wealthy paying to torture and kill people for fun. Simple yet brilliant.

The death scenes were surprisingly tame. Not that they needed to be especially elaborate, although I did get a kick out of the over-the-top stuff like the cannibalism and blood-bathing scenes in Part II. Maybe I'm just jaded, but someone getting his face sliced off just doesn't do anything for me. Unfortunately, the death scene with the most potential was evidently done in by not having enough money with which to film it properly: A girl has several (presumably carnivorous) insects poured over her, and all it results in is some horrendous CGI work as the insects improbably stream into her open mouth before a fade to black. Kind of disappointing for gore aficionados. After all, you can never go wrong with someone getting eaten alive.

Hopefully, there'll be a Hostel: Part IV. There aren't many horror franchises that still have so much material left to mine three films in, but there's still a lot of life left in this one. It'll be especially nice if the filmmakers concentrate more on the story than the death scenes, especially if they don't have the money to do them well.

Script: B-
Acting: B
Gore: B+
Overall: B

The Grand...Prize...Game!

For some reason, I recently found myself thinking about this old bit on The Bozo Show called The Grand Prize Game.

If you're under 25 and/or didn't spend most of your childhood in front of the TV and require some background, The Bozo Show was a daily children's television program produced in Chicago and aired on WGN. And since most cable companies around the country carry WGN--I've never actually been able to figure that one out. I guess I could probably find out just by going to Wikipedia, but it turns out I don't care as much as I thought I did a moment ago. So never mind--every child in America had access to Bozo.

I don't remember much about the show, to be honest. They did skits and ran cartoons and all the usual kids show crap, but really, the only reason I watched was for The Grand Prize Game.

It's probably easier to show than explain, so here you go.

Okay, maybe you didn't feel like sitting through that. So basically, the game is this: A kid was put in front of six buckets, all lined up in front of him. He was given a ball, which he attempted to toss into the first bucket, then another ball into the second bucket, and so on. For each bucket he could successfully toss a ball into, he got a prize. The prizes got better as the buckets got further away, and if he could get balls in all six buckets, he got a--as Bozo would say--"crisp, new $100 bill!" (I know in the clip above, the dude in the suit says it's $50, but that episode was filmed way before my time. By the late '80s, inflation had bumped it up to $100.)

I was obsessed with the game when I was a kid. Not because I wanted to play it. Just the opposite. I was constantly cringing while watching. It seemed like an amazing amount of pressure to put a child under. Think about it. You're a kid. You're on national television. You're being asked to do something that, on the face, seems incredibly simple, but is actually pretty damn hard, with $100 on the line. Which, when you're that age, may as well be $1,000,000.

And worst of all, there were no second chances.

The Grand Prize Game was a cruel motherfucker. I mean, Bozo wasn't a total dick, so if a kid was somehow stupid or uncoordinated enough to miss the first bucket, he'd let him have a do-over. But from the second bucket on, if the kid missed, that was it. For me, with my pampered, sheltered childhood, it was a bit of an eye-opener the first few times that Bozo didn't come over and say, "Oh, so close! What do you say, folks? Should we give him one more shot?" No. You were simply handed your shitty prizes, the name of your at-home-player was read (like you gave a shit some kid you'd never met was benefiting from your hard work), and you were quickly ushered off-stage.

And they always lost. I'm pretty sure most of them didn't even make it past the third bucket. I must have watched hundreds of Grand Prize Games, and I can only remember one kid actually getting all six buckets. That kid should have been treated like a rock star. You won't ever convince me that anything Justin Bieber does is harder than winning The Grand Prize Game.

I like to believe that every kid who lost, never forgot the burning anger and humiliation at being bested by a series of buckets and a TV clown, and were able to refocus that pain into becoming a success at whatever they put their mind to. I know that if it were me, that experience would have eaten at me every...single...fucking...day. All hyperbole aside, f I'd been one of those kids, I guarantee I would have cured cancer by now.

I keep reading about Millennials and their need for constant praise and affirmation in the workplace, because as kids, they were never allowed to experience failure or criticism. I know a couple of these people. I work with a couple of these people. They're terrible.

America needs The Grand Prize Game, and its harsh, yet true lesson that life isn't fair, so get the fuck over it. Now more than ever.