Movie Review: Some Hawthorne adapted by American International Pictures.....

"a sheltered young woman" says the encyclopedia, as if, as it were, hiding in plain sight? or is it, in plain sight, hidden away?  Something of a, scientist father doesn't know of the little itch, thornboggle, the wanderlust, and what's beyond the trees?  what's beyond the hills?

Stupidly or innocently, tending a garden of poisonous plants, as it were, near the roadside("sheltered") such that a stranger sees, happens to be a handsome man, and an actor in a lead role, auspiciously, unsuspecting, and being the first man to show her love, she would marry him.

It reminds me of another production I witnessed where the man said he'd give the first good-for-nothing horse's ass of a bum that he came across in the next town, give that one a bright shiny silver dollar.

The first one.

Dead-red sitting on go, and a green light for some people, or just sitting there waiting to smack the fly from his cereal bowl with toad tongue.

The close captioning on the television presentation of this Hawthorne adaption captured the pure nonsense of it: "his hands still smoking".  I'm thinking right, and a blue gel applied in post-production, for some silly reason.  "He's turning into Doctor Manhattan!"

American International Pictures.  Thank you so much.  And the House of Seven Gables accompaniment, with the feigned disease and wonder, ineptitudes that become feigned scripted mysteries,(is this how Dick Wolf comes up with his stuff?) and I'm wanting all of them, the evil sister, the gambler hub, the blacksmith's great grandson and the beautiful trophy wife that indulges her husband's stupidities and failures, his bad ideas, and I'm wishing they would all touch Rappaccini's poison's rose bush or whatever that crap is, a plant that makes living tissue superheat such that it looks like its on the grill, a magic plant.

One magic bush.

Anyone, in the other thing, that's like Sandra Dee, the B movie girl.  Aware that she's possessed by a ghost, but looking very befuddled about it, and unable to stop from fulfilling a generational curse between two families.

The sister took a pick-axe to the forehead without an entry wound, but she went toes-up.

They claimed to have scoured the house without ever opening the trapdoor at the bottom of the basement stairs.  Immediately, one curses the set designer silently, but knows still, its a red herridge, that the treasure isn't under there.  "Maybe the deeds to the land in Utah are in there.  Its worth millions!"

The portrait burped blood, and still, kaputnick is thinking of his gambling debts, the portrait anyway looking like a crumplestiltskin fellow, and fresh blood on a chair, and the sister claims shes a witch, cavorting with spirits, and all, and the families hate on another, and the wife's vagina bumps into the family's one living enemy, like pure magic.

It's Gothic, right, like the magneticism between opposites, when they want company, they brood alone, and when they should be alone, they throw a party.  It's like teenagers in expensive clothes, in a way, people without responsibilites, continually on about their own swerve.

I note, that if they had social media in this one, no one would have died.  Just saying, and don't shoot the messenger, but a little healthy self-expression wouldve saved this doodles from the grind of the grice.