There's no horror franchise as abused as “Hellraiser.” Pinhead has suffered more indignities than there exist in all of Hell. The dignified prince of pain from Clive Barker's original films became a Freddy Krueger knock-off, went to space, and was forced into a number of increasingly dire direct-to-video sequels that weren't even conceived as “Hellraiser” movies. The lowest point came when two movies were pumped out, as quickly and cheaply as possible, just so the Weinsteins could hold onto the rights in anticipation of a big budget remake. Many years later, that big budget “Hellraiser” reboot has finally gotten made, by Hulu and director David Bruckner. Now the time has come to judge whether this latest attempt to unlock the “Hellraiser” formula is sweet agony or if it tore my soul apart.
Riley is a recovering addict, currently living with her brother and his boyfriend. She's dating a guy named Trevor, who everyone is suspicious of. Trevor tells her about an easy payday involving an empty warehouse. Inside, she finds an elaborate golden puzzle box. After solving the box, she passes out in a drugged-up stupor and is rescued by her brother. He gets cut on the box and is taken by the Cenobites, the explorers of human flesh and sensation. Desperate to find her brother again, Riley quickly researches the box and discovers its connection to Roland Voight, a depraved billionaire that disappeared mysteriously six years ago. Meanwhile, the Cenobites beckon to Riley, convincing her to complete the ritual.
Another issue facing the new “Hellraiser” is that the characters aren't not especially likable. Odessa A'zion gives an okay performance as Riley but the character's extreme emotions, leaping wildly between withdraw-strewn depression and wild bursts of mania, make her hard to relate to. The rest of the characters are all bitchy in the most boring way possible. Brandon Flynn as the brother argues with Riley. His boyfriend argues with Riley and the other characters. A fourth character, Aoife Hinds as Nora, is completely useless and spends most of her screen time locked into a sobbing state of hysterics. Annoying, petty bickering among the cast is what sunk Bruckner's “The Ritual” and I'm beginning to worried it's a bad habit of his. Far too much of this “Hellraiser” is made up of people arguing about what they should do in this extreme situation.
There are elements to admire here. The Cenobite designs are clever, as their leather robes are made of their own skins. None of the new designs are as memorable as the original's but it's a valiant effort. The much ballyhooed casting of Jamie Clayton as Pinhead (referred by the Barker preferred nomenclature “Hell Priest”) proves suitable enough. She's no Doug Bradley but she can still say some fucked-up shit in a convincing manner. Voight's mansion is an elaborate piece of architecture, resembling the box itself. In the final twenty minutes, this “Hellraiser” finally develops a pulse. There's a decent chase scene, a satisfying reveal or two, and a little bit of fucked-up body horror. The premise of a Jeffrey Epstein-style rich pervert seeking out the Cenobites and then believing he could still buy his way out of their contract is a clever idea and one the film should've focused on more.
Another issue facing 2022's "Hellraiser" is that's it's strangely dispassionate. Simply put: The movie isn't horny or kinky enough. Bitching about 2022's “Hellraiser” does make me feel ungrateful. Compared to every “Hellraiser” movie made since the early nineties, this is a big step-up. Yet, as with pretty much every entry in the franchise since Barker's original, I can't help but feel like this miss the point of the material. There's a wealth of mythology to explore in the “Hellraiser” universe, so it's frustrating that the new movie mostly invents a bunch of new bullshit. More than anything else, the new film's good qualities are dragged down by a maudlin pacing and overly gloomy mood. Whether 2022's “Hellraiser” will relaunch the series remains to be seen. In my eyes, it's a valiant but ultimately underwhelming stab at the premise. [6/10]
You'd think, by the early seventies, that the vampire movie would be totally played out. It was a new decade, with modern concerns, and the fears of bloodsucking undead surely must've seemed antiquated at the time. The truth is the vampire movie was going through a rebirth in popularity at the start of the decade. I can only speculate on the reason why. Maybe the loosening of the ratings board meant filmmakers were finally free to get as bloody or sexy with the genre as they wanted. Maybe folks were just nostalgic for the bloodsucking flicks of the fifties and thirties. Either way, the vamp revile produced interesting fruit. Among “Blacula,” Hammer's Karnstein trilogy, and “Daughters of Darkness” was “Count Yorga, Vampire.” American International Picture's first attempt to modernize the vampire.
A Bulgarian count named Yorga moves into modern day Los Angeles. He immediately begins working as a spiritualist, performing seances and acts of hypnotism for rich hipsters. He mesmerizes Donna, the girlfriend of a man named Michael. That night, another male partygoer named Paul and his girlfriend Erica are attacked by Yorga. Shortly afterwards, Erica begins to display vampiric behavior, including killing a kitten and drinking its blood. Confronting their friend, Dr. Hayes, the three men begin to suspect that Count Yorga is a vampire. They are absolutely correct. Yorga is collecting women to turn into his vampire brides and he's looking to make Donna his latest acquisition.
Rumors have persisted for years that “Count Yorga” was originally intended to be a softcore porno. It's not too difficult to see remnants of this idea in the final film. In fact, the points in the story where sex scenes could have been inserted are blatantly obvious. Paul and Ercia get it on in his van before the Count interrupts them. Yorga sits on his throne and makes his vampire brides rise from their slabs, seemingly watching them have sex with each other. There's even a moment where monstrous Brudah has Donna pinned to the ground, that reads like a prelude to a rape scene. (Director Bob Kelljan's previous film, “Flesh of My Flesh,” seems to be a softcore sex flick, adding further evidence to this rumor.) While “Count Yorga” kept its sexiness restrained enough to earn a GP rating in 1970, you can still see the story's pornographic roots in another way: This movie isn't very well made, with rough camerawork, goofy slow-motion, shoddy lighting, and a halting pace that jerks awkwardly from plot point to plot point.
There is a certain schlocky enjoyment to be found in “Count Yorga, Vampire.” Quarry is at his best when melodramatically narrating his evil schemes. The scenes of the heroes fighting off the count, his bloodsucking femme fatales, or his brutish man-servant provide mild thrills. Yet the movie is a bit too indistinct to truly make an impression. The slow pace, hilariously blunt ending, and mediocre writing make it a slog sometimes. Honestly, if the it had been a full-on sex flick, it probably would've been better. Embracing the slightly sleazy atmosphere that's somewhat evident here would've been preferable to what it ended up being: Rehashed monster movie clichés operating mostly with kids' gloves while an undercurrent of greasy sexuality boils underneath. “Blacula” and “Dracula A.D. 1972” did more with the vampire-in-modern-day premise but I guess this movie crawled so those films could flap their bat wings or something. [6/10]
Considering it was essentially a spin-off from the “Creepshow” movies, occasionally Stephen King and George Romero would grace “Tales from the Darkside” with their presence. The fourth season episode, “Sorry, Right Number,” was written directly for the small screen by King. Katie, wife to wildly successful horror author Bill Weiderman, is on a long-distant phone call with her sister. That's when she gets a call on the other line. It's a voice she doesn't quite recognized, clearly in a panicked state. At first, she's worried it's her oldest daughter but she's fine. Later, she goes to check on her sister but she's alright too. Later that night, tragedy befalls the Wiederman household. Ten years later, everything will come full circle.
“Sorry, Right Number” is “Tales from the Darkside” in more of a “Twilight Zone” mood. The inciting incident is the only creepy and weird happening in the story for most of its runtime. A scrambled, unsettling phone call does prompt Katie and Bill to investigate her sister's home. There's some mild tension as you wonder what exactly is going on with her. Admittedly, King's script does a good job of distracting us until the reveal comes, which probably should've been obvious in retrospect. It's a final touch of magic-realism, inserted without any logical reasoning but makes sense on an emotional level. It adds an effectively tragic air to the entire story.
Here's a good vote for the silliest title of this show yet. “Come Back, Little Googie” sees Eddie inviting a friend to spend the weekend. Googie Miller is a little smart-ass and enjoys playing pranks on the family. When the boy doubts Grandpa's magical ability, he agrees to turn him into a rabbit. Instead, he seemingly turns Googie into a chimpanzee. This is actually another of the boy's tricks, though the Munsters don't realize that. In “Far Out Munsters,” the manager of the rock group the Standells asks the family to rent their home for the band's weekend show, under the logic that they can't ruin a house that's already dilapidated. The Munsters spend a weekend in a fancy hotel, much to their chagrin, while the rock band throws a wild party at 1313 Mockingbird Lane. Shenanigans ensue when the family returns home early.
Now you can tell 'The Munsters” is a truly important episode of sixties television because Billy Mumy is in an episode. After he was Anthony Fremont but before he was Will Robertson, Mumy was Googie. Mumy is suitably obnoxious in the role, though he's actually on-screen pretty briefly. Most of the episode's comedy value arises from Herman and Grandpa interacting with a chimpanzee. These two have such an appealing, easy-going comedic chemistry that just watching them trade monkey puns is highly amusing. The scene where they drop off “Googie” – wearing a little chimp-sized suit – is a fantastic sight gag. Butch Patrick also gets a good moment, when Eddie tells off Googie for his mischievous ways. The chimpanzee has good comedic timing too, as displayed in the episode's final moment.
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