Reactions to most horror films usually don't cause dancing, especially to a song with quirky lyrics that celebrate the monster. But in The Blob (1958), that is exactly what I found myself doing, moving to a Latin beat with these lyrics written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David: "It creeps, and leaps, and slides and glides, across the floor, right through, the door, and all around the wall, a splotch, a blotch, beware of The Blob." But it's hard not to celebrate the allure of this amorphous creature, which has become uniquely entrenched in American popular culture in a manner similar to other monster archetypes such as Dracula, Frankenstein, and King Kong. How often have you heard something unidentifiable called a "blob"? More times than I care to admit.(read more...)
