Amoeblog

12 Twisted Mother's Day Movies

Posted by Billy Gil, May 9, 2014 09:36am | Post a Comment

Mother’s Day could mean tuning into the latest movie based on a Jane Austen book or rom-com, but that’s no fun. Instead, we've compiled a list of 12 of the most messed-up movies about mothers. Save these to watch for after you’ve hung out with mom.

mothers day

Mother’s Day (1980)

Let’s start with the one that shares its name with the holiday. The horror film, produced by cult horror kings Troma Entertainment and directedy by Charles Kaufman, got flak at the time of its release for its exploitative aspects, its rape/revenge scenario calling back to I Spit On Your Grave. But since then, its cult has become a substantial enough to warrant a remake produced by Brett Ratner and starring Rebecca De Mornay (star of another screwed-up mom’s movie, The Hand That Rocks the Cradle). “Darlings, you have made your mother very proud,” the deranged mother of two hillbilly punks tells the boys when they bring her a woman to murder. Mom will love this one!

 

serial mom

Serial Mom (1994)

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Ultimate Mommie Dearest: 30th Anniversary Birthday Celebration

Posted by The Bay Area Crew, April 26, 2011 11:32am | Post a Comment

mommie dearest peaches christ

MOTHER'S DAY WEEKEND WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AS YOU EXPERIENCE THE ULTIMATE MOMMIE DEAREST: 30th Anniversary Birthday Celebration!

With the return of "Trannie Dearest" stage pre-show featuring Peaches Christ, Heklina, Martiny and, direct from Maryland, Peaches' real-life mother Mrs. Christ!
 
World Premiere of a restored digital presentation of Mommie Dearest!
 
Peaches Christ Productions wants you to strap yourself in, scrub those floors and put on your "Sunday Best" for the "ULTIMATE MOMMIE DEAREST" at San Francisco's historic Castro Theatre on May 7, 2011 at 8:00 pm. Hosted by Peaches Christ, this elaborate evening will feature "Mommie" approved events including the unveiling of a sparkling, hi-definition digital presentation of Mommie Dearest for the first time ever and exclusively for San Francisco audiences; the return of the raucously musical stage show "Trannie Dearest" starring Peaches Christ, Heklina, Martiny and direct from Maryland, Mrs. Christ -- Peaches' real "mommie;" an opportunity to show us your most fantastic (or tragic) costume creation for the "Dearest Mommie" parade and a wheelbarrow of surprises that you dare not miss! For all the details click here!

Castro Theatre, Saturday, May 7th, 8pm
featuring Peaches Christ, Heklina, Martiny and Mrs. Christ!!!
 
Doors open: 7:00pm
Festivities begin: 8:00pm

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(In which Job honors his Mother.)

Posted by Job O Brother, May 10, 2010 12:27pm | Post a Comment
 

victorian woman
An actual picture of my Mother (not pictured here).

In honor of this week’s Mother’s Day, I’m dedicating this entry to my Mammy. 

I remember Mom liked the house kept quiet so she could concentrate on reading her scripts. It also allowed her to track the progress of the housekeepers; she could hear if they were spending their time talking, how much time they spent scouring the living room tile, etc. It was kind of intense, but not as bad as when she stopped getting decent movie roles and her alcoholism worsened. That’s when she started beating me with coat hangers and…

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(In which we now have something completely different.)

Posted by Job O Brother, July 4, 2007 04:29pm | Post a Comment
There’s few things more annoying than a  Monty Python fan. I should know, I am one.

The first thing I ever saw from this most-famous, British comedy troupe was “The Meaning of Life”, their fourth and final film, released in 1983. I was eight. It was completely inappropriate for a child and I still taunt my older sister for taking me to see it.

Being the baby of the family, I was inevitably stuck with my older sister on dates, so all the films I saw as a child were wrong for my age.

My first film was the whimsical and high-spirited “Reds”, based on real-life American Communist, John Reed, and his affair with a married woman. Tee hee! Next, I remember seeing “Gandhi”, that laugh-a-minute movie that’s warmed the cockles of so many tots. Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” was a memorable evening for me (I was still small enough to hide under my seat); “Mommie Dearest” caused a temporary phobia of wire coat hangers; watching “Sybil” resulted, ironically, in me developing a split personality to handle the memory of seeing it, and imagine my delight at being the only kid in class to say he’d seen “Chariots of Fire”… twice.


Just another childhood cartoon for Job: Pink Floyd's "The Wall"

In my sister’s defense, she did once take me to see a showing of “Bambi” at her college theatre, but the reel broke just after the forest fire that claims Bambi’s Mommy’s life. Whereas the other kids were crying and traumatized by this, I wasn’t phased. After all, what’s one dead deer when I had already witnessed the Jallianwala Bagh Massacre?

But this isn’t therapy and you’re not a psychologist*, so I won’t pursue this tangent.

(In which Job gets high and complains of his illness.)

Posted by Job O Brother, April 26, 2007 08:33pm | Post a Comment
I don’t want you to think I’m an overly critical person, but frankly, I can’t think of very many nice things to say about ear infections.

It’s my first time having one, so I’m probably not the best person to speak with authority on the subject. Because it’s all so new, I hate to draw too many conclusions. I generally think of myself as open to new experiences.

When it comes to food, for example, I am practically compelled to taste a dish, if I never have before. Whether it’s sea urchin at a sushi bar in Sacramento or sweetbreads at Musso & Frank Grill or chilled monkey brains with my underage sidekick… oh wait… That was “Indiana Jones & The Temple of Doom” - I always get that and my life confused. (It’s easy when you work on the mezzanine at Amoeba Music Hollywood – but we’ll get to that later.)

The point is… um…

Okay, you need to know right away that I am hopped-up on loads of Vicodin. It’s one of the many things my doctor prescribed for the aforementioned ailment.

If you’re like most people found at a swell music store such as the one I work at, you probably just got all warm and fuzzy at the mention of Vicodin. You maybe even got a little jealous of me.

“Oh, lucky,” you think. But I hate it. For one thing, it makes writing a blog almost impossible.

“But Job,” you protest, “You seem to be doing a fine job. Your prose is witty and accessible; smart and grammatically deft. Why, you’ve even managed to find a clever way to sneak in usage of the words ‘ecchymosis’ and ‘zizith’ in the same sentence!”

Well, I return, you’re very kind. But what you don’t know is that I’ve been working on this entry for eight hours without a break (unless you count the lost-time from my fainting spell immediately after I typed out the word grammatically).