I thought I had seen some of the worst films around, considering my past with RHPS. Tonight, however, it was proven to me that there is always something worse than the worst movie you've ever seen. Tonight, it was the 1963 "classic" The Raven.
Starring Vincent Price, Boris Karloff, and some other biggie of 1960s horror movie fame, this film was intended to be based upon the poem of the same name by Edgar Allan Poe. Apart from the title and a few stanzas, the film had precisely squat to do with the poem. The only bright side is that by suffering through it tonight, I have saved myself from the fateful mistake of waiting until class on Wednesday to watch it...three <expletive> times.
After The Raven, I popped in a 25-minute short of Poe's "The Tell Tale Heart" and felt melancholic enough to not need RHPS to cleanse my memory of The Raven. I ended the video orgy with Sir Ian McKellen's adaptation of Richard III, which was perfectly timed to Richard's great fall and the buttoning of the last button on my last shirt. How nice.
Lame post tonight, but I just wanted to share with you my miserable experience of The Raven. May you never have to suffer through anything so horrible. Ever. Actually, I guess it's too late for suffering through horrors to the eyes if you've made it this far, but, still, thanks for reading.