Halloween 2021: October 29th

Absentia (2011)

Mike Flanagan has carved out a successful niche for himself. “Oculus” and “Hush” slowly built positive attention. He supposedly turned a routine project, the prequel to “Ouija,” into something better than expected. “Gerald's Game” was the real turning point, which saw him partnering with Netflix. Flanagan would next direct a row of event series for the streaming giant. The “Haunting” series and “Midnight Mass” have dominated discussion on social media. This has allowed Flanagan the chance to make a big budget Stephen King project. Yet, perhaps because I'm me, I can't help but be skeptical of Flangan. I haven't seen all of his movies but have rarely loved the ones I have. Does he really deserve the respect he's earned? The best way for me to determine this is to go back to his proper debut. That would be low-budget chiller “Absentia.” 

Callie, a recovering addict, moves in with her estranged sister, Tricia. Tricia is very pregnant, despite her husband, Daniel, disappearing mysteriously seven years ago. As there has been no sign of him in all that time, Tricia prepares the paperwork to declare her husband deceased in absentia. Tricia is haunted by nightmares of her late husband. Meanwhile, Callie is seeing and feeling strange things about the overpass bridge and tunnel near Tricia's house. After getting the paper work all squared away, and preparing to move on with her life with the father of her baby, Daniel returns. And so begins an even stranger series of events, with the unnerving tunnel at the center of it all.

The thing that bugs me the most about “Absentia” is how it pretends to have some deeper lore around its supernatural threat, while actually keeping things as vague as possible. It seems the overpass tunnel is home to an otherworldly entity. Or an entrance to another dimension. Or a nexus point between realities. People are pulled into it by an unseen creature, randomly disappearing and returning when an oblique trade of some sort is made. Callie catches sight of a man – played by Doug Jones, presumably because he looks naturally emaciated – who disappeared years earlier. When Daniel reappears, he references being “underground” for all this time. Why this happens, or what motivation the creature has, is never explained. There are references throughout to “Billy Goats Gruff,” so presumably it's a troll under the bridge... Yet this is not elaborated upon. I have no problem with a movie, a horror film least of all, being mysterious. Yet “Absentia” skirts pass this into being obscure for its own sake. At a certain point, “mysterious” just becomes underwritten. 

With the supernatural element of the film being so intentionally hazy, the audience is left to focus on the relationships between the sisters. Katie Parker plays Callie, while Courtney Bell plays Tricia. Both actresses give decent performances, with Parker doing especially well when depicting the character's growing sense of panic. The two have strong chemistry together and the scenes of them chatting idly, and subtly sniping at one another, are interesting enough. Yet the film's dramatic scenes soon become repetitive. Callie inevitably relapses. Tricia feels uncertain about declaring Daniel dead, while considering pursuing a relationship with the father of her child. (The officer investigating Daniel's disappearance.) “Absentia” really feels like a film where the dramatic relationships and the horror elements exist just to set each other off, the two never integrating.

But the reason Mike Flanagan's career as a horror director really took off is he's good at engineering scares. Tricia has reoccurring nightmares of Daniel, appearing as a pale faced ghoul in her bedrooms. This spectre starts to appear even when she's awake, always lurking unmoving in the background. There's no dramatic music or crazy camera movements in these scenes. The ghostly vision is just allowed to be there. Which is a nice subtle type of creepiness. When the unseen antagonist begins to abduct people, we only see them dragged them off by something off-screen. That's an effectively spooky visual too. Despite everything else I dislike about “Absentia,” it doesn't “cheat' for any of its scares. It's honestly attempting to create an unsettling atmosphere.

“Absentia” was an extremely low-budget production, most of the movie's 70,000 dollar budget being raised on Kickstarter. The lack of money is apparent in the washed-out, digital cinematography. Though I suspect that was as much a creative choice as a practical one. (The paranormal threat being kept off-screen was probably one of those as well.) The film was obviously designed to be a calling card for its director, to show what he could do with limited funds. It obviously succeeded in that goal, since Flanagan became one of the genre's fastest rising stars. I'm still no closer to figuring out why his movies rub me the wrong way. All my viewing of “Absentia” did was provide to be another example. [5/10]

Razorback (1984)

If you grew up watching a lot of VH1 Classics, you are very familiar with the work of Russell Mulcahy. Mulcahy is responsible for some of the most iconic music videos of the eighties, from “Video Killed the Radio Star” to “Turning Japanese.” He directed unforgettable clips for Elton John, Duran Duran, Billy Joel, Bonnie Tyler, Berlin, Talk Talk, and Fleetwood Mac. His beloved music video work would get Mulcahy feature gigs quickly enough. After making a brief documentary about Australian stand-up comics, Mulcahy would make his proper debut with “Razorback.” Mulcahy's films remains probably the most prominent entry in the admittedly small subset of films about enormous killer pigs.

Jake Cullen, a hunter living in the Australian outback, looses his grandson when a ferocious wild boar tears through his home. He becomes obsessed with killing the animal. Meanwhile, American animal rights reporter Beth Winters arrives in the area to film an expose on a dog food factory. She's attacked by the workers and, shortly afterwards, eaten by the pig. Her husband, Carl, follows his missing wife's trail to the same small town. He encounters the same degenerate factory workers that hassled Beth, getting stranded in the outback by them... And it's not long before he's running from the giant pig himself. Upon meeting Jake Cullen, the hunt is truly on.

The first thing you're going to noticed about “Razorback” is that it looks amazing. Mulcahey and cinematographer Dean Semler, formally of “The Road Warrior,” did everything they could to create as eye-striking a series of images as possible. The opening sequence, where clothes on a line or a weather vane spinning under an orange sky, immediately establishes the visual ingenuity here. When setting out on a light night kangaroo hunt, the beams of light form the truck's spotlight frequently cuts through the dense, black-blue night. Mulcahy is fond of that trick, of rays of lights penetrating darkness or smoke. Probably because it always looks cool. Whenever we are inside the canning factory, it's always lit and angled to look like Hell on Earth. Such as when we get a inside view of a meat grinding, the blade spinning through a red light. Simply put, “Razorback” is a visually stunning motion picture.

The rampaging swine gets top-billing but “Razorback” is not just a “when animals attack” thriller. In fact, the villains for most of its run time are all too human. It's at Jake's trial that we first meet a pair of assholes named Benny and Dicko. With their obnoxious laughs and Johnny Rotten haircuts, these two are immediately abrasive. They lead Carl on a hellish journey through the outback, that's more than a little reminiscent of “Wake in Fright.” The two guys live in an underground tunnel – another brilliantly lit and designed set – and drag Carl into the middle of nowhere for a nightmarish kangaroo hunt. The film truly embraces surrealism at times, as Carl wanders an endless desert, full of skeletal animals that have died upright. A massive crack in the ground and towering rock formations are brought to life with obvious mat paintings, furthering the unearthly feeling. As depicted in “Razorback,” the Australian outback seems truly post-apocalyptic at times.

Of course, this is a horror movie about a vicious hog too. And a pretty good one too. “Jaws” was an obvious influence, as there are multiple shots from the boar's perspective. (As well as a large, mechanic prop that doesn't hold up to much scrutiny.) Yet Mulcahy's film embraces a gonzo spirit more than Spielberg's classic. There's comedic sequences, such as when the pig tears off the side of a man's house and goes running with it. It's harsher too, such as Beth's death at the swine's jaws being framed similarly to the near sexual assault she just escaped. By the time the pig bursts through the wall of the factory for the big climax, the camera shaking around it, “Razorback” has become a full-on assault on the senses. The colors ramp up and the encounters get more intense, as our hero goes toe-to-tusk with the murderous pig. 

“Razorback” was not that successful upon release in 1984, neither in Australia nor abroad. Eventually, however, the movie would gather a well deserved cult following. Mucalhy managed to take a horror premise that seemed standard on the surface and created a frequently surreal, strangely funny, and occasionally very intense experience out of it. The film paved the way for the future commercial success and cult popularity of Mucalhy's next movie, the immortal “Highlander.” It would also be emulated by a series of inferior big pig thrillers, like “Boar” and “Hogzilla.” Yet “Razorback's” oddball mixture of monster mayhem and music video style visuals has made sure it remains a one-of-a-kind classic of Ozploitation. [8/10]

Messiah of Evil (1978)

Sometimes, you see a title so many times over the years, that you just stop thinking about it. "Messiah of Evil" is at least partially in the public domain and has cropped up on countless cheap DVD sets over the years. Even though this also describes classics like "Night of the Living Dead" or "Carnival of Souls," I always slotted this one in with "The Screaming Skull" or "Horrors of Spider Island." Ya know, movies that nobody actually cares about, that have only proliferated across home video so much because literally anyone can release them. That's before I started to actually read the reviews for "Messiah of Evil" and realize this one is considered a hidden gem of seventies horror by a lot of smart people. Time to put bias aside and give this one a watch.

Arletty pulls into the town of Point Dume, California, looking for her missing father. His house is empty, with his diary being the only trace of him. All the people in town, who act very strangely, deny knowing him. Arletty soon meets up with Thom, a visiting Portuguese aristocrat, who is also interested in the town's history. They soon uncover a strange prophecy within Point Dume, about a forthcoming "blood moon" that will signal the reappearance of a dark lord. As Thom's groupies disappear, the two realize all of Point Dume is wrapped up in this disturbing cult.

"Messiah of Evil" is another seventies horror that captures a strange, dream-like atmosphere, which I seem to be watching a lot this October. Arletty narrates parts of the film, while excerpts from her father’s diary are also read in voice-over. This makes the entire movie seem like a hazy memory, like a half recalled dream. The directorial team of Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz match this with a number of surreal images. Arletty's father was a painter and he decorated his house with huge murals of roads disappearing into the horizons. Or faceless people in black-and-white suits. The house also has a frosted glass moon-roof, which shadowy figures often press their faces against. "Messiah of Evil" is full of all sorts of unusual sights like this. Such as a man with a face entirely painted blue, a bug appearing on the tongue, or a woman weeping tears of blood. 

Something that makes "Messiah of Evil" especially effective as a horror film is its extremely creepy villains. Various plot synopses have described the townsfolks as vampires or zombies but neither description quite fits. Unlike your traditional zombies, they can talk and operate machinery. They can't feel pain and appear to be rotting, but some maintain their human souls. They can also walk around in the sun, discarding the vampire theory. Instead, they are just really weird. One of Thom's girlfriends gets picked up by one while hitchhiking, who munches a rat in front of her. She then enters a grocery store and spies the people munching on raw meat right out of the butchery. This disturbing sight proceeds a tense chase through the building. Later, they slowly fill a movie theater while Thom's other girlfriend watches a Sammy Davis Jr. western. This leads to another unnerving attack scene. "Messiah of Evil's" villains are just very uncanny creations, hard-to-define ghouls designed to make you uncomfortable.

"Messiah of Evil's" oddball tone and narrative rises a number of interesting connotations. Eventually, it's revealed that the town's demonic messiah — who appeared as an old-time preacher, dressed in black — emerged from the sea and is prophesized to re-emerge from the same location. When combined with uncanny townsfolks performing arcane rituals on the beach, and the insane asylum-set framing device, this gives the movie a Lovecraftian vibe. Yet Thom, a long-haired free love type, being persecuted by the stiff townsfolks also makes this a story of changing social values in the seventies. More than anything else, Arletty being increasingly surrounded by people who can't feel, left alone with her knowledge of doom-laden prophecies, makes "Messiah of Evil" a powerful story of social isolation. 

How much you like "Messiah of Evil" seems to depend on the quality of the print you watch. Many of the public domain releases are overly dark and blurry. Luckily, a pristine HD copy is streaming on Shudder. (With optional Elvira host segments, if you're into that kind of thing.) Huyck and Katz were friends with George Lucas, with writing credits on "American Graffiti," "Temple of Doom," and "Radioland Murders." This presumably has more to do with them going on to direct pricy flops like "Best Defense" and "Howard the Duck" than whatever success "Messiah of Evil" had. Yet their directorial debut stands alone as a distinctly spooky slice of seventies surrealism. [8/10]

Frankenweenie (1984)

Before he became a blockbuster director, and long before he became whatever he is today, Tim Burton was just a lowly Disney animator, toiling away on projects like “The Fox and the Hound” and “Tron.” In 1984, he somehow tricked Disney into giving him a million dollars to make “Frankenweenie.” The twenty-nine minute short follows ten year old Victor Frankenstein, a kid living in the suburbs. His best friend – and frequent star of his home-made monster movies – is his beloved Bull Terrier, Sparky. A day of enthusiastic ball throwing ends with Sparky being struck by a car. A heart-broken Victor puts together a lab in his attic, digs up Sparky, and uses lightning to bring the stitched-together pup back to life. Victor is overjoyed, his parents are shocked, and the neighborhood is fearful of the undead doggo.

Even though he was only starting out, Tim Burton's aesthetic was already entirely obvious in this early short. In fact, “Frankenweenie” would practically be remade as “Edward Scissorhand.” Both take place in a sunny suburban community, which could just as easily be 1964 as it could 1984. This “Leave It to Beaver” simplicity is in contrast with the moody, black-and-white photography. Images of Sparky's distinctively shaped head, turned into massive shadow inside garages and through windows shades, invokes the kind of 1930s horror movies Burton was inspired by. As in “Scissorhands,” the totally innocent titular character – so innocent that he's just a playful dog – is feared by the normies around him simply because his different. 

Of course, Burton's trademark visual style is recognizable here too, even if it's not as exaggerated as in “Beetlejuice.” The pet cemetery Sparky is buried in features large, cartoonish tombstones. The dog is buried atop a rounded hill that wouldn't look out of place in Halloween Town. The fiery conclusion takes place in an abandoned miniature golf course, where a rickety windmill obstacle provides our Frankenstein-ian climax. It's not just the visuals that are cartoonish, as the characters are similarly exaggerated. The comically oblong neighbor lady shrieks at every little sound. The nosy neighbors substitute torches and pitchforks for flashlights. The parents are loving and understanding on a perfect level. 

Maybe the real reason both this “Frankenweenie,” and the incredibly faithful feature length expansion Burton would make in 2012, works is because the story is rooted in loss and love. The death of a pet is usually the first taste kids get of mortality. And Victor loves his pet so much that he defies the laws of nature to bring him back. I guess those themes were too heavy for Disney, who were so mad at Burton for “wasting” their money on this project that they fired him. This did not stop them from re-releasing the movie after the director became a household name. As for the original “Frankenweenie,” it's still a charming, adorable, and beautifully well-produced parody of classic horror. [7/10]