November 2, 1992 [Tetsuo, the Iron Man, Legend of the Overfiend/Urotsukidoji]
--But what if it's a Twonky? The old movie rises up from the 1950s, a Hans Conreid revenge-of-the-machine vehicle about a living TV that takes over his life. Tetsuo, the Iron Man was taught this lesson with a viciousness that makes David Lynch, even those old Andalusian Dogs, Dali and Bunuel, seem kind and serene. The movie literally inserts the machine into one's life--one's body, which cringes and shivers and shrieks in terror and ecstasy, a fetish savage as a circular saw cut loose at maximum speed. It is ugly and hopeless--like Legend of the Overfiend, another Japanese outrage, a bursting rotted stew of blood and tentacles, as though the world had lost all signs of human making and been given over to monsters that chewed everything into a wet, tortured mass.
I'll admit it: I watched both of them, kept going until the end. But I was smart enough to eject the tapes and promise myself to get them back to the video store right away tomorrow morning before I calm my nerves at work with a machine that has a little Cricket inside.
(Editor's Note: Like the Constant Viewer, I'm thankful for the Bug's Life that Steve Jobs promised, and send my sympathies to his family and friends, with a vow always to save before closing.)