Notes from Maine - 2025/05/25
I fell down a delightful rabbit hole last week. I met some friends for dinner and got home earlier than I expected. With extra time on my hands, I decided to get some computer work done. Sitting in front of the TV, working on stuff that only required half my attention, I decided to put on a movie I had already seen. The first one that jumped out was Final Destination (from 2000).
It was dated and predictable, but so much fun. I don’t even think “predictable” is a fair adjective for it. The whole point of the movie is that it’s predictable. These people are going to die. You’re just watching to see what creative devices the filmmakers employ to bring them to their fate.
Before I knew it, I was watching Final Destination 2 (2003). The formula remained the same. You get to see each character die twice. The first death seems horrific until you see how they die the second time. We’re focused on the accidental survivors who are hunted by death, but the movies generally start with a much bigger accident. Very little emotional energy is spent on all the other victims. In the movie’s terms, these people were all just collateral damage. You get twenty seconds of a funeral, but then we move on to more pressing matters.
There are six movies in the franchise. I’m surprised there aren’t more—it’s such an evergreen concept. You don’t have to know a long backstory or any detailed lore to enjoy any one of them as a standalone slasher flick. We’re never trapped watching a single prescient person trying to convince the rest of the world that they’re not crazy. As soon as the predictor makes the connection and starts begging to be heard, someone dies right in front of them. These movies take the hysterical people seriously from the start.
Tony Todd (Candyman) is in all of the movies except number four. He’s always fun in a horror movie. Before this week, I had only seen the first two movies. It was fun rediscovering them. I have yet to see the newest entry (Final Destination Bloodlines). I think it’s still in the theaters. I’m sure that the existence of the new movie is why they all popped up in my recommendations.
I guess I don’t watch a whole lot of gore anymore. It’s jarring to me. They don’t pull any punches in these movies. People are constantly getting decapitated, crushed, burned alive, or cut in half. I find myself blinking slowly and almost wanting to turn away from the blood. What happened to me? It’s been a while since I’ve even written a bloody scene. Maybe I should steer one of my open projects in that direction?
When I was at the feed store yesterday, Cheryl was throwing hay into the back of the truck.
“What’s that sound?” I asked.
“The wind between the trailers,” she said. “They sing to you.”
I heard what she was talking about. The low, harmonic sine waves were breathy, like someone was blowing across a jug.
“No, not that,” I said. “Do you hear kids screaming?”
She cocked her head and then smiled. “I guess so? Maybe there’s something at the park?”
It didn’t sound like happy screaming to me, but I dropped the subject. Those people already think I’m strange. There’s no reason to prove them right. What I thought I heard was kids screaming, like in panic and fear. It was distant and on the wind though, so I couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was just the trailers singing to me. Who knows. But there was something about Cheryl’s easy dismissal, and the way her sister (Leia) wields a hay hook. I think that crew at the feed store would do pretty well in a crisis. They’re pragmatic and not easily spooked.
I’ll have to change their names if I ever make up a story about them. That’s the only decent feed store around here.
