Halloween 2020: October 24th

The Woman in Black (1989)

When I was a young teenager, I hung out on a couple of horror movie forums. One of these communities regularly had contests to rank the best horror films from various years. When 1989 came up, a movie that was highlighted by multiple users was “The Woman in Black.” One user went so far as to say it was the scariest movie had ever seen. “What is this film?,” I thought at the time. I had never even heard of it! Probably because British television movies really weren't on my radar at the time. When I watched “The Woman in Black” soon afterwards, I was thoroughly underwhelmed. This stodgy thing terrified multiple viewers? I'm definitely older now and maybe a bit wiser too. Since “The Woman in Black” was recently released on Blu-Ray, after many years out-of-print, I figured 2020 was the year to reconsider this so-called classic.

In the 1920s, a young family man named Arthur Kidd is sent by his law firm to resolve the estate of a recently deceased widow. Alice Drablow lived in a sprawling mansion on an isolated property, connected to the mainland only by a land bridge. During high tide, the area is totally cut off from the rest of the community. At Drablow's funeral, Kidd sees a strange woman in a black gown. When he begins to stay at the home, he sees her again. He also hears strange noises. Like the disturbing sound of a carriage crash on the bridge. Or a child's voice inside the house. Kidd soon learns that Drablow was a notorious local figure and that a disturbing legend has sprung up around her... The legend of the Woman in Black, the omen of death.

“The Woman in Black” comes from a novel by Susan Hill, a classical English author, and was adapted by Nigel Kneale, the well-regarded creator of Quatermass and “The Stone Tape.” As you'd expect from this combination, “The Woman in Black” is an archetypal example of an English ghost story. In fact, this might be the definitive English ghost story. While caught on the land bridge, Kidd is lost in the fog, surrounded by disturbing noises. “The Woman in Black” seems determined to replicate the experience of being in a “real” haunted house. While in the large house, he hears weird noises. Doors open and close, objects moving when Kidd isn't looking. The most unnerving presence is the Woman in Black herself, who stands perfectly still in the distance, always disappearing as Kidd draws closer. It's pretty effective, the film creating a fittingly dread-filled atmosphere. 

What makes “The Woman in Black” even more involving is the larger mythology it hints at. Alice Drablow and the Woman in Black do not seem to be the same character, though the two are intrinsically linked. He soon learns that Drablow adopted her sister's child, just to have the woman kidnap it and die in the process. While on the peninsula, Kidd comes across a number of tombstones, the graves belonging to children. The titular spectre targets Kidd not just because he's in the home but because he saves a little girl – seemingly her next target – earlier in the movie. It would seem the malevolent phantasm is a manifestation of the same cultural legends that brought us La Llorona or Lilith: A wicked female entity that snatches children. Drablow's story is wrapped up in the same themes, of familial resentment and bitterness.  There's even some suggestion that the Woman in Black is caught in a repeating cycle, like one of the spirits in Kneale's “Stone Tape.”

For a television production, “The Woman in Black” is handsome. (Even if the breaks for commercials are still present on the Blu-Ray.) The period sets and costumes look gorgeous.  Director Herbert Wise, previously of “I Claudius,” has a strong handle on the material. Smartly, he plunges the audience into blinding fog or darkness on several occasions. The cast is strong, with Adrian Rawlins making Arthur Kidd as wholesome and likable a guy as possible. His scenes interacting with his kids or a dog are adorable. If there's any area where “The Woman in Black” comes up short, it's the special effects. When seen in the distance, only as a black-clad spectre, the titular ghost is quite creepy. When we get close-ups on her face, and see that she's just a little old lady with gray make-up pancaked on, she becomes less scary. That unconvincing make-up job totally sinks what should be one of the film's scariest moments, when the Woman in Black confronts Kidd in his own bed.

The sense of mystery and dread “The Woman in Black” creates continue right up to the ending, which is utterly bleak. It does make the entire production feel a bit like a shaggy dog story but is effectively grim nevertheless. Much of the film's reputation as being highly scary is probably owed to its rarity for many years. “The Woman in Black” had a limited VHS and DVD run, forcing fans to distribute grey market releases for a long time. Even the release of a high-profile remake didn't get the film reissued. Now that “The Woman in Black” is widely available again, it can be judged fairly. Calling it the scariest movie ever made is a (land)bridge much too far. However, it is a highly spooky English ghost story, packed to the gills with creepy atmosphere and expertly assembled in almost every way. [8/10]

Witchcraft (1964)

Don Sharp is not an especially well-known director in the horror genre yet he successfully carved out a niche for himself in the sixties.  At Hammer, he made a few solid one-off films, such as “Kiss of the Vampire” and “Rasputin: The Mad Monk.” In the seventies, he directed two oddball genre mash-ups, in the form of “Dark Places” and “Psychomania,” the latter of which has become a real cult classic. In-between, he made two black-and-white horror features for Lippert Films and 20th Century Fox. Before he made “Curse of the Fly” — which had lots of psychodrama and body horror but no fly monsters — he directed a far more traditional gothic thriller. “Witchcraft” doesn’t have much of a reputation but I’ve always been fond of its trailer, so I decided to give it a look this year. 

The Lanier and Whitlock clans have been feuding for centuries. 300 years ago, Vanessa Whitlock was accused of witchcraft by the Laniers and buried alive. The Lanier family then took over their rivals’ land. Now, Bill Lanier is building a land development on the Whitlock estate. The family graveyard is bulldozed, greatly angering Morgan Whitlock, the remaining patriarch. As revenge, he raises Vanessa from her grave. As more supernatural “accidents” befall the Lanier family, the youngest members of both broods fall in love. 

Like many of the horror movies made in the sixties, “Witchcraft” is about the conflict between two eras. The Whitlock tribe represents older traditions. They’ve never forgotten their ancestral roots and, as becomes increasingly clear, still practice dark magic. The Laniers, meanwhile, are thoroughly modernized. With the exception of the grandmother, they don’t even recognizes a witch’s circle when they see one. The most greedy members of the family plan to tear up the ancestral lands and build condos on them. If you want to read into it, “Witchcraft” is another sixties film about cultural change, about a new generation erasing and building atop a previous one. (All too typical of the time, the witches are depicted as the villains even though they are the ones that have been wronged.) The Romeo-and-Juliet style romance between the youngest Whitlock daughter and Lanier son represents the ideal compromise between these two worlds. 

This conflict is present in “Witchcraft’s” visual design too. The film came in around the tail-end of the early sixties gothic horror revival. Even though the story is set in the modern day, the film is awash in chilly, black-and-white atmosphere. This is most present in the scene of Bill walking through the ruined Whitlock cemetery, dark and foggy. Like the earlier “City of the Dead,” there’s also sequences devoted to scheming occultist in concealing robes trying to perform rituals in underlit basements. Vanessa Whitlock never speaks but stalks around in a grey burial shroud. The shots of the ghost-like witch lurking around the stone halls of the family manor have a certain spooky appeal to them. The grandmother even refers to her as the “woman in grey,” making this a good double feature with “The Woman in Black.”

These atmospheric moments are more effective than the fright scenes taking place in modern settings. During those moments, “Witchcraft” unfortunately becomes unintentionally funny. The greedy land developer is compelled to drown himself in the bath, leading to multiple shots of a fat guy splashing around in the water and a silly-looking final face. Later, a woman casually drives her car off a cliff, never realizing she’s in danger until the very end. As spooky looking as Vanessa Whitlock is, she’s also a villain that doesn’t do very much. She mostly sulks around, her most active moment occurring when she pushes an old lady down some stairs. The film would have done better to make Morgan Whitlock, played by a typically ranting-and-raving Lon Chaney Jr., the primary antagonist. (Upon release, the film was given a William Castle-style gimmick - plastic "witch deflectors" that viewers were told to grip whenever they got scared - perhaps as a way to make it more interesting.)

Yes, as interesting as “Witchcraft’s” ideas are and as cool as that black-and-white photography is, this is a horror movie where not a lot of stuff happens. You’ll have to have a high tolerance for people walking around a spooky mansion, while dramatic music plays, to enjoy this one. I do have a high tolerance for that kind of shit, so I still managed to have some fun with the film. “Witchcraft” is also smart enough to get in-and-out in seventy minutes, insuring things don’t drag too much. But I can see why “Witchcraft” is largely forgotten. Lon Chaney devotees, Don Sharp fans, and sixties gothic horror nerds will probably still want to check it out. [6/10]

Into the Dark: Uncanny Annie

“Into the Dark,” Hulu and Blumhouse's collaborative series of monthly horror films, has been running for two years now. In that time, very few of the installments – I still don't know if they should be called movies or episodes – have drawn much attention. “New Year New You,” Sophia Takal's New Year episode, received some solid press. I also saw some people discussing “I'm Just Fucking With You,” the April Fools' installment. Otherwise? “Into the Dark” has made no impact on the genre. Jason Blum has now created a different on-going anthology of horror movies for a rival streaming service, suggesting “Into the Dark” is no longer a high priority. Since I sort of enjoyed the last two episodes I watched, “The Body” and “Pooka,” I decided to give another one a shot. Instead of going with any of the critically acclaimed “Into the Dark” installments, I picked last year's Halloween offering, “Uncanny Annie.” 

One year ago on Halloween, a group of friends – Peter, Michael and Craig – lost a friend, Tony, in a freak accident. So they are taking it easy this year, celebrating at home with some board games. A group of girls – which include Craig's ex – arrive to join them. They go down into the basement to retrieve the games. Which includes a weird one they've never heard of before, called “Uncanny Annie.” The rule are simple enough but as the group plays through the game, strange events begin to happen. It soon becomes apparent that, by opening the game, they have summoned a demonic entity, Uncanny Annie herself, that is determined to do them all harm. 

“Uncanny Annie” comes from Paul Davis, who previously made “Into the Dark's” premiere episode, “The Body.” (He's also John Landis' protegee.) As a fellow former MovieManiacs.Net forum member, I wanted to like this one. Unfortunately, “Uncanny Annie” does not utilize its setting or premise that well. This is one of those Halloween-set horror movies that uses the holiday only as set dressing. The characters wear costumes – pretty lame costumes – and there's some jack-o-lanterns in the background. That's about it, as it's not like board game parties are a thing normal people do on Halloween. As for the premise, essentially a horror version of “Jumanji,” it's basically used as set-up for a series of horror sequences. The board game gimmick degrades into cards, prompting various actions or events. It's not very innovative.

Worst yet, “Uncanny Annie's” attempts at scares grow lamer as the film goes on. The first entity the game summons is a back-lit grim reaper, who fills up a whole hallway. That's kind of cool. Interest quickly drains by the time the next ghoul, a pasty-faced jester demon, appears to make mischief. A lengthy sequence is devoted to a scary game of hide-and-seek, a premise so well-worn it's already inspired at least two horror movies and a creepypasta. By the time, Uncanny Annie herself shows up, the episode is totally out-of-ideas. Annie is a twitchy face, zombie doll girl that has an exaggerated “evil” voice and giggles ominously. She even performs a spasmodic jump scare right before the end credits. By the end, “Uncanny Annie” has become a compilation of shitty horror cliches.

Davis leaves few cliches unturned. Which, naturally, includes the characters bickering among themselves. Our heroes argue about what to do in this grave situation, naturally making things worst for themselves in the process. Like a lot of mediocre-to-shitty horror movies, “Uncanny Annie” adds a traumatic event in the past of its characters in an attempt to add depth. Secrets are being kept about Tony's fate and Annie uses this to torment her victims. Yet “Uncanny Annie” isn't actually about friends reconciling after the death of one of their own. It's not about grieving or guilt. It's a shallow technique to make a bunch of generic slasher bait seem like real characters, instead of bags of blood that will be punctured and drained in various ways. 

“Uncanny Annie” does have some clever special effects, that much I'll admit. Once the game begins, the house floats within an endless black void. That was a nice touch. Otherwise, “Uncanny Annie” doesn't even feature much in the way of memorable gore. It's largely unimaginative stabbings and throat-slicing. The episode then concludes on a senseless, mean-spirited note that it not only doesn't earn but barely makes any sense. It's pretty startling that Blumhouse would pick this to kick off the second season of “Into the Dark,” a movie so piss-poor that it makes “Truth and Dare” look pretty good in comparison. [4/10]

The Sleepover (2012)

The final recommendation from the Dissolve is “The Sleepover” from 2012. And it’s another jokey meta-riff on the slasher movie, that genre horror nerds just can’t stop deconstructing. Tom invites the new kid in town, Eric, over for a sleepover. Eric is so new that he doesn’t know about the Slasher. Tom has to inform him about the hulking masked serial killer that haunts the town. That requires every kid to be hyper-aware of their surroundings and every babysitter to be trained in self-defense. Eric thinks Tom is just being a wuss but he’s soon about to learn the truth.

Making fun of slasher movie cliches couldn’t be more old-hat by now. However, “The Sleepover” almost finds a new angle to it. The idea of a town so used to its resident terrorizer that the citizens are completely adapted to it is funny. (“The Sleepover” jokingly names its town Derry, one of several on-the-nose references.) We get other peeks at what life here must be like, like a bumper sticker for an organization called MASK: Mothers Against Serial Killers. Yet “The Sleepover” is mostly devoted to setting up its joke, instead of actually utilizing it. So most of the runtime is focused on Tom informing Eric of the legends — subgenre tropes — that are facts here. The production design and cinematography are quite good. The final line made me laugh. The acting is kind of ropey though. I wish “The Sleepover” really ran with its premise, instead of going with the most obvious angle. [6/10]