Gremlins ★★★½

Watching a Christmas film in July can either work for you or not. Does it make you long for those dark December nights when you get to snuggle up with someone that's nowhere near as hot as Phoebe Cates was here, or do you lament the bastardisation of Christmas as a commercial entity where you spend too much, eat too much, and then end up with clothes that don't quite fit? Now you could take the other approach and embrace a little bit of Christmas cheer, although the violence of Joe Dante's comedy/horror doesn't exactly scream welcome to Kingston Falls? It still has charm though, and again, I'm not only talking about Cates. So the snow looks about as real as Pamela Anderson's tits, but who cares, and in Dick Miller we had the quintessential paranoid grumpy git with the same ideas on foreigners as Donald Trump, with them multiplying quickly and taking American jobs. It is a film that's weathered the years better than most though, a bit like Cates herself, and that theme tune just threatens mayhem on a huge scale. It must be thirty years since I last seen the sequel, that's the one where Gizmo is strung out on heroin and listening to nu-metal before it was even a thing? Was Galligan and Cates in the sequel? Fucked if I know, can't remember a thing about it? This one however is still a lot of fun, and both the microwave and the blender scenes are reminiscent of me cooking in the kitchen, so this one does have a touch of realism after all.

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