Halloween 2022: September 26th

The Roost (2005)

Ti West's origins as a filmmaker are unassuming. Wikipedia tells me that he grew up in Delaware, went to the School for Visual Arts, and randomly appeared in an issue of Teen People in 2001. He made two shorts in film school, neither of which seemed to attract much attention. It was his friendship with Larry Fessenden that gave the young director his chance to make a feature. How many promising young filmmakers got their start because they ran into Larry Fessenden at a party? (West is also buddies with Lena Dunham, so he probably has rich people New York art scene connections but I don't want to think about that.) That feature would be "The Roost" and it made a minor stir in the indie horror scene in 2005. 

"The Roost's" story is simple as can be. On Halloween night, a group of four college-age people travel to a mutual friend's wedding. While traversing a dark road, something strikes their windshield and forces them into a ditch. Looking for help, they approach the near-by home of an elderly couple, who disappeared under mysterious circumstances earlier in the night. Taking shelter in the barn on the property, the group soon uncovers a horrifying secret: The barn is inhabited by vicious bats, whose fatal bites resurrects their victims as blood-thirsty ghouls. 

West's early work is notable for not being especially narrative driven. Instead, his films focus more on sticking characters in a distinctive setting and letting tension slowly build until shit hits the fan in the last act. "The Roost" shows that this style was apparent right from the beginning. The weaknesses of this approach are already obvious: "The Roost's" characters are indistinct and often interchangeable. The performances seem partially improvised and none of the cast members are that memorable. The biggest criticism that can be leveled against this style – which would eventually receive the unfortunate nickname of "mumblegore" – is that it leads to stories where not a lot happens. About 40% of "The Roost" is devoted to vaguely-defined characters hanging out in or wondering around dark, uninhabited locations. 

Yet something separates West's approach from tedious B-movies like "Land of the Minotaur." It's what the zoomers call "the vibes." "The Roost" was shot on film, which lends the movie a gorgeously grainy appearance. Cinematographer Eric Robbins centers each shot in a precise manner, defining a sense of isolation and discomfort early on. The sparse sound design helps recreate the feeling of being stranded out in the country on a lonely night. This, when combined with the occasionally creepy musical score, sets the viewer for some grade-A scares. The appearance of ravenous zombies is totally unexpected and catches the audience off-guard. The reappearance of the elderly couple, whose absence throughout the story makes us curious what role they'll play, is a tightly executed sequence. West is so confident in his ability to engineer a good thrill that he even fucks around, showing a fake-out jump-scare from the inside out. The audience is aware of what's coming but it still gets a jump out of us. 

"The Roost" stripes its premise down so much that no explanation is provided for where the vicious bats come from or why they spread a vampiric condition. That's not the only sign West was more accustomed to making shorts. “The Roost” is extended to a thin, eighty run time with a clever framing device. Tom Noonan appears as a horror host in wrap-around segments, presenting the movie from the confines of a black-and-white haunted host decorated with cardboard tombstones. This matches “The Roost's” retro aesthetic, making it seem more like a public domain thriller from the late seventies. West takes this device even further. There's a spooky radio drama heard in the background, all throughout the film, adding to this Halloween atmosphere. The film randomly flashes into black-and-white. Eventually, Noonan expresses disappointment with the story's ending, rewinding things so a more exciting climax can play out. In its final moments, the audience even becomes a character within the film, some found footage style thrills capping the movie off before the end credits roll. 

“The Roost” attempting to recreate a throwback style predicts the grindhouse revival that would kick off a few years after this one. Yet it lacks much of the irony that would sometimes make those movies too smug, for an overall more enjoyable experience. The only sign that the movie is a 2000s production, aside from the modern clothes, are those CGI bats. West was smart enough to cloak those in shadows and use them sparingly, so the effect is almost seamless. “The Roost” didn't break out of the indie horror bubble but did win strong notices from the Fangoria crowd. Going back and watching now, it's fascinating to see that most of West's stylistic instincts were intact from the beginning. Even earlier on, he knew how to employ his particular style to create some chills, even if his debut is simplistic in many other ways. [7/10]

The Ghost (1963)

A few days ago, I was talking about how Christopher Lee would often take easy paychecks by lending his star power to low-budget horror movies made across Europe. While this was basically a side-gig for Lee, in-between his famous franchise films and iconic roles, some stars essentially made their entire careers out of this path. None more so than Barbara Steele. The British born model and actress would see her career totally redirected after appearing in Bava's beloved “Black Sunday.” The string of gothic thrillers she made afterwards are all fairly derivative of each other, which did nothing to stop Steele's cult following from blossoming. Which brings me to “The Ghost,” a pretty typical example. 

John Hichcock is a wealthy doctor living in the Irish countryside in the early 1900s. His ailing health has confined him to a wheelchair and caused him to pursue spiritualism as a hobby. His doctor, Livingstone, has been injected him with different types of poisons in a last ditch effort ot save the man. Livingstone is also carrying on an affair with Margaret, Hichcock's considerably younger wife. Bored of being his caretaker, Margaret plots with Livingstone to kill her husband. After successfully poisoning him, the two discover that the doctor's vault can only be opened with a key buried with him. This proceeds a series of supernatural events, Margaret becoming convinced her late husband's ghost is haunting her.

“The Ghost” is actually the second movie director Riccardo Freda – credited in the U.S. dub as “Robert Hampton” – made with Steele in 1963. Aside from the name of her ill-fated husband, “The Ghost” has something else in common with “The Horrible Dr. Hichcock” too. This is another movie where Steele is caught in a clear gaslighting plot. Unlike the collaboration between the star and director, the details of the manipulation are a lot more straight-forward this time. You have a clear idea of where the story is going and there's none of the earlier film's surprise depravity. “The Ghost” also takes a lot longer to get to the spooky stuff. There's a solid half-hour before Steele and her guy off the husband and the supernatural vengeance begins, with lots of red herrings and laborious set-up along the way. 

Not that plot is ever a high priority in Italian horror, least of all in Barbara Steele movies. The area these films excel at is the atmospheric locations. “The Ghost” certainly has plenty of that. The sprawling gothic manor this time includes a fog-strewn cemetery just outside the home. You can bet your ass Barbara Steele walks down a dark corridor while carrying a candelabra, the lights being blown out in a nice touch. In fact, “The Ghost” is full of effective elements like that. A door creaks open and cast a blade of light into a shadowy room. Rotting hands emerge from the blackness and blood drips on a music box. The titular ghost, with his crooked teeth, makes a few spooky entrances, usually accompanied by much foreshadowing. That music box melody is a nice reoccurring element throughout the film, creating a little suspense and adding a lyrical quality to many scenes. 

“The Ghost's” Technicolor images are never quite as searing as those in “The Horrible Dr. Hichcock.” Yet it doe feature one showstopper moment: When a frenzied Steele attacks with a strait-razor, blood pouring down the screen. That speaks to the intensity of Steele's performance here. When Margaret and her lover learn that her late husband's fortune is locked in a vault they can't access, she falls to her knees and wails. In the second half, Steele's penetrating eyes are used in service of some insane staring. It's Steele at her most histrionic. Considering she's playing more-or-less the villain protagonist of this story, it's a fitting acting choice. The rest of the cast is stately and often badly dubbed but Steele is always enchanting, whether she's scheming or screaming.

That final act is when I fully came around on “The Ghost.” The movie takes too long to get to its point. All the twists and turns are totally predictable. It's script isn't as amusingly perverse as “The Horrible Dr. Hichcock,” it lacks the Freudian layers of “Castle of Blood,” while the visuals are not quite as atmospheric as “Nightmare Castle.” (And it goes without saying that none of these films compete with “Black Sunday.”) Yet any movie that ends in multiple murders with Barbara Steele's unforgettable eyes peering into the camera with insane glee simply can't be bad in my book. For fans of this strain of nonsense, “The Ghost” will prove to be another fine distraction, even if you can easily guess how it'll play out from the first frame. [7/10]

Lights Out: Dead Man's Coat

Here in 2022, it's easy to forget that radio was the primary medium when televisions became commercially available. This being the case, it's unsurprising to read that a lot of early TV shows were based on popular radio programs. Horror stories and thrillers were popular on the airwaves all throughout the thirties and forties. “Lights Out” was among the most well-known radio shows of its day, with its macabre plots and a pun-slinging host. This is probably why NBC took a chance on a televised version in 1946. When “Lights Out” made the leap to the small screen, it became the beginning of something new: The very first horror anthology TV show broadcast directly into people's homes.

As was common for early television, “Lights Out” episodes were broadcast live. The only copies of the show are kinescope recordings. Despite that, a fair share of episodes survive. Among that lot, “Dead Man's Coat” struck me as the most interesting. Mr. Francis, a mean-spirited businessman, loves to harass his butler, Gregory. Francis hears the legend that wearing a dead man's cast, retrieved from his grave, can grant invisibility. He dismisses it at first but eventually comes around to the idea, forcing Gregory to assist him in the grave-robbery. Successfully turning invisible, Francis uses the power to murder his business rivals, tormenting the fearful Gregory into helping. 

I chose “Dead Man's Chest” out of “Lights Out's” surviving episodes because it stars Basil Rathbone. While Rathbone surely would've been delightful as the murderous villain, he's instead cast as the fearful accomplice. Rathbone is fittingly kowtowed, as the terrified butler. (And you can tell this was a live broadcast. Rathbone flubs at least one of his line, saying “dead man's grave,” instead of “coat,” in an early scene.) William Post Jr. plays the invisible killer and it's a frankly cartoonish performance. Post bellows wickedly while exaggerating every evil impulse the character has. I suspect over-the-top performances like this played better on radio than TV. The same could be said for a script that gets moving so quickly, that it barely explains any of its supernatural set-up. 

Despite that, “Dead Man's Coat” is still pretty entertaining. There's some clever in-camera effects. The scenes of Post digging up the grave have a nice foggy ambiance to them. The invisibility effects are crude, actors merely pantomiming an invisible man's attacks. Yet the unseen killer's presence is nicely signaled by a puff of smoke. The camera is mostly stationary, as you'd expect from these stone age days of TV. This makes the eye-catching angles even more striking. “Dead Man's Chest” also has a nicely ironic ending. This shows that the morality tale structure of horror anthology shows – where evildoers reek havoc but inevitably get what's coming to them – was part of the genre from the beginning. Though obviously as antiquated as can be, “Dead Man's Coat” intrigues me enough that I think I'll check out more of “Lights Out” in the future. [7/10]

Chucky: Twice the Grieving, Double the Loss

The subplots start to pile up in the penultimate of “Chucky's” first season. While at the funeral for Jake's aunt, Devon officially breaks up with him. Jake decides to run away from Hackensack. As he's getting ready to leave the city, he sees a Good Guys doll being delivered. He buys the doll off the delivery man and figures out it's being sent to the former home of Charles Lee Ray. Simultaneously, Devon has gone to investigate this same location, discovering Nica tied up in the basement. Meanwhile, Chucky starts to forge a relationship with Junior, trying to convince the boy to murder much the same way he did Jake and Caroline. Tiffany is also floating around the story, with a villainous scheme of her own. 

If it's not evident by now, I always find episodes like this to be the most tedious in a show's season. Episodes like “Twice the Grieving, Double the Loss” don't really have a story or structure of their own. They simply represents the inevitable point when the show writers have to bring all the divergent plot threads they've been developing all season together. This means cleaving through a lot of the chaff. It's becoming clear now that Lexy's sister and mom are subplots that aren't going to amount to much. Devon has to run into Nica, simply so those two threads justify their own existence. Even if it's a bit of a reach to get to that moment. Andy Barclay and Kyle are also heading towards a confrontation with the evil doll, yet another storyline taking up screen time. The suggestion that there's some deeper connection between Junior's family and Tiffany just feels like another convoluted diversion.

With all this melodrama, it's easy to loose sight of what I enjoy about this show. Breaking up Jake and Devon, just after their relationship was starting to get involving, is a misstep.  Yet, when “Chucky” gets out of its own way, it can still manage to be entertaining. There's a well executed murder scene in the last half, with the doll himself being used as a bludgeon. This leads to an unexpected, and energetic, musical moment. The flashback to Chucky and Tiff's past, which seems to be leading directly into the original “Child's Play's” events, are amusingly lurid. Hearing these two psychopaths argue about murder is good for a laugh. The show seems to be planning big things in the next episode but I wish it took less of a contrived path to get there. [6/10]