Halloween 2022: October 13th

Men (2022)

With two beguiling, critically acclaimed movies for A24 under his belt, Alex Garland reteaming with the studio for a third time was met with much anticipation among the Letterboxd/Film Twitter set. With the vague title of “Men,” details on the project were kept mysterious for a while until Garland revealed this was his entry into the ever-popular folk horror revival. However, upon release earlier this year, “Men” was not discussed in the context of its folkloric conventions. Instead, it was derided as another movie that claims to take down “toxic masculinity” mostly by showing men terrorizing women. In light of recent news, perhaps a lot of people are tired of seeing the details of misogyny regurgitated yet again. Nevertheless, “Men” has found defenders and, of course, I had to judge it for myself.

Harper retreats to a scenic estate in the English countryside. She’s haunted by the death of her husband. He fell from the roof of their building, following a violent argument they had about his threats of suicide in response to her wanting a divorce. Harper needs time to clear her head. Instead, her quiet vacation in the country is quickly disrupted by a naked man following her in the woods and standing in her yard. In the hours afterwards, she has more and more frightening encounters with other men, ranging from a teenage boy and the town vicar. Stranger yet, there’s something similar about all of them.

From one perspective, what “Men” sets out to say could not be more obvious. Everywhere Harper goes, she encounters one form of misogyny or another. The groundskeeper at the estate seems friendly at first but makes a bizarre comment about how Harper should be careful of what she flushes down the toilet, a clearly uncomfortable reference to tampons. Later, he switches from addressing her as “miss” – an untethered woman – to “missus” – an extension of a man. The little boy calls her a bitch. The male cops prove themselves useless by releasing the stalker, the nude man whose mere presence violates the peaceful country side, after arresting him. The town vicar seems sympathetic at first, before he accuses Harper of driving her late husband to suicide. He reappears later to outright accuse Harper of inflaming his lust, strictly because she’s female. Garland’s decision to have all these men played by the same actor – Rory Kinnear in various make-ups, including having his face deep-faked onto a young boy’s body – makes it clear that all these figures represent all different types of men, each of them united in their hatred of women. Thus, Harper becomes an everywoman and the film is a metaphor for the varying types of sexist abuse women must endure every day.

One could perhaps make the argument that nobody needs to be reminded of this fact, that pretty much every woman everywhere deals with horrible men constantly, least of all right now. Yet Garland’s film is made deeper thanks to the depths of its visual symbolism and the way he links this to English mythology. The males that stalk Harper are repeatedly connected with the Green Man, a figure of nature, rebirth, and fertility. Harper, meanwhile, is connected with the Sheela na gig, the very obviously female character of English mythology. It's notable that the man first appears while Harper stands in a very yonic tunnel. Which is also connected with a rotten deer carcass, furthering the link to the natural world. The characters are set-up as archetypal examples of male and female, locked in a conflict that dates back to ancient times. They are like the Horned God and Mother Goddess of modern paganism – the Green Man grows horns of a sort by the end – in conflict with one another in a world where the power of the masculine deity is overgrown, reflected in the bright foliage all around Harper. 

Garland playfully litters the film with other symbols too. Upon arriving in the country side, Harper plucks a peach from a tree, obviously setting up an Adam and Eve motif. (And further suggesting this battle of the sexes has waged since the beginning of time.) At one point, a bird crashes into the house and is put out of its misery by Kinear. By the way, a "broken bird" is a term for a tragic female character. If the point wasn't clear enough, the dead bird is later decorated with a Marilyn Monroe mask, pop culture's most enduring broken bird. The men of the film consider a woman like Harper "damaged goods" that must be put out of her misery. While Garland stops shy of including any actual sexual assault in the movie, he includes multiple instances of the predatory man inserting a finger or limb through gaps or slots. And, like the final girls of "Men, Women, and Chainsaw," Harper responds by bisecting his hand, turning a protruding masculine appendage into a split-down-the-middle feminine one. This foreshadows the implication of castration that concludes the film.  

I suppose it's inevitable that "Men" functions more as an art house freak-out than simply a horror movie. But I do think the movie does stand on its own as simply a visual/audio experience. Rob Hardy's cinematography is gorgeous, with the overwhelming greens of the forest making Harper seem further isolated. When combined with a dreamy and creepy score, it helps create a potent horror atmosphere. There are several strong, scary scenes here. Such as the titular man running at Harper from the darkness or an intense sequence involving a car. Sealing the deal is a pair of satisfying performance from Kinnear, disturbingly uncanny in every scene, and Jessie Buckley, a resilient heroine. 

I get it if you find all of the above utterly pretentious. Or if you don't think Garland's English major wankery with mythological symbols and ideas justifies another story that defines a female lead strictly in relation to the trauma men cause her. For me, personally, "Men's" atmosphere of surreal malevolence and interesting use and subversion of classical symbols sucked me. It's not until the final minutes when the movie falls into a series of grotesque images that are harder to justify. If "Men" is later reevaluated in years to come or remembered as a misfire within the context of Garland's directorial career remains to be seen. However, I found its approach compelling and its freakiness suitably unsettling. [7/10]

Antropophagus (1980)

When it comes to Italian horror, I am well-versed in the work of the masters. I've seen most of Argento, Bava, and Soavi's films. I'm familiar with Fulci and Deodato. But what about the directors whose reputations as “masters” are debatable at best? What of the trashmen, who flooded cinemas with low-budget garbage when the globe was most hungry for cannibals, zombies, and black-glove wearing killers? What about Joe D'Amato? D'Amato worked in nearly every role in the Italian film industry, under numerous pseudonyms. As a director, he was prolific, leaping across multiple genres. (Including lengthy stints directing hardcore pornography.) Of his many depraved movies, the most notorious is “Antropophagus.” The cannibal/slasher hybrid was perceived as so sickening by the British government that it became one of the reviled Video Nasties, those horror films deemed obscene and banned. Of course, this just solidified “Antropophagus'” place in trash-horror history. The movie is beloved among a certain breed of fan to this day.

“Antropophagus” stars and was co-written by George Eastman (also credited under multiple names in various capacities), the famously tall spaghetti western star and frequent D'Amato collaborator. He plays a man who is lost at sea with his wife and son, whom he cannibalizes to survive. Gone mad, he washes up on an obscure Greek island. There, he develops a hideously deformed face and devours anyone unlucky enough to cross his path. A group of tourists arrive on the same island, with plans for a pleasant vacation. A Tarot card reading warns of danger but they go ahead anyway. Soon enough, they encounter the misshapen man-eater, who proceeds to slowly hunt and kill them all. 

Despite its infamy, "Antropophagus” – known under a dozen different titles – is mostly one of those tedious Eurosleaze horror films devoted to people wandering around various locations, sometimes while shouting the names of other characters. You'd think the premise of "people stranded on island with cannibalistic murderer" would be simple enough but the script is junked up with unnecessary subplots and backstory. Not that the film makes much narrative sense anyway, as there's little rhyme or reason for most of the action. People do stuff for hard-to-define reasons. The shoot shifts randomly between night and day. Spatial relation between the various locations is rarely established. The majority of cast members are indistinct enough to be basically indistinguishable from each other. The score is the typical synth bleeping and blooping that you'd expect from the time and place.

If this is the case, what does this Video Nasty owe its notoriety and cult following to? Well, mostly two scenes of outrageously improbable gore. If you're reading this, you already know what they are. Eastman yanks a pregnant woman's fetus out and munches on it. Later, after being disemboweled, he uses his dying breath to chow down on his own guts. While unforgettable in their own way, the numerous times I've read about these scenes made them sound way more fucked-up than they are in execution. The former scene is shot with a slow-mo artiness, that keeps most of the actual ripping and munching off-screen. The latter is more graphic but the film ends abruptly right afterwards, creating chuckles instead of vomiting. Despite the creative vileness of those two gags, the rest of the movie's gore is actually pretty mild. I'm talking your standard cleaver hacking and throat biting. A decapitated head is laughably fake and Eastman's make-up looks pretty silly.

Even if "Antropophagus" is a largely tedious experience, I'll admit there are a couple of times when the movie almost works for me. There is a certain ambiance, unique to eighties Italian horror slime like this, that can be appealing. When a thunder storm is raging outside, and a shirtless guy is walking around a spooky old castle, that scratches a certain itch. So does a woman plummeting through a spiral staircase with a noose around her neck. Or a candelabra smashing into a mirror in spectacular slow-motion. I don't know why the bloody, screaming lady emerges from a barrel of wine. Or why people walk into a bat-filled catacomb populated by chewed-up corpses. Still, it's kind of cool, in the dumb-ass way motion pictures like this are. Yes, there's unintentional laughs too. Such as Eastman's unconvincingly dubbed screams of agony or a woman's name being endlessly repeated during a foot chase.

Standard jump-scares, meandering stalk-and-slash scenes, and a painfully drawn out first act also contribute to this being a largely snore-inducing movie. Yet you are unlikely to forget the movie's most disreputable parts. Considering most exploitation schlock filling drive-ins and grindhouses around this time were lucky to have one unforgettably sick moment, maybe “Antropophagus” having two is all we can expect of it. The movie's gruesomeness made it popular enough to spawn a semi-sequel called “Absurd,” also known under many alternate titles, that was also banned in various countries. That one is more of a direct “Halloween” rip-off and is, by most recollections, more competently made... But with fewer memorable evisceration. Which, considering the reasons we watch these movies, makes it hard to say if it's an improvement or not. As for D'Amato's incoherent original, you're probably better served watching a compilation of its most taboo moments than sitting through the whole thing. [5/10]

Amazing Stories: Hell Toupee

Yes, I'm watching this episode of “Amazing Stories” strictly because “The Simpsons” ripped it off for one of their later “Treehouse of Horror” segments. Novice defense attorney Harry Ballentine is in the unenviable position of defending Murray Bernstein: A man who went on a killing spree that targeted lawyers. Harry discovers that the very bald Murray was wearing a new toupee when he committed the murders. Around the same time, another bald man in a rug goes on a similar rampage. Harry soon figures out that it's the toupee itself, a living and crawling creature, that compels its hosts to kill lawyers offering “reasonable rates.” 

Perhaps unsurprisingly, “Hell Toupee” represents “Amazing Stories” in one of its goofier modes. The comedic tone is manic more-or-less from the get-go. Tony Kienitz' performance as Harry leans far too heavily on the nervous side. I do like how excited he gets about proving his case, just to be laughed at by everyone around him. Cindy Morgan is totally wasted as Harry's female assistant, who inexplicably has a crush on him. The highlight of the episode is definitely the climax set at what is seemingly a sellers' convention for toupees. It features a bizarre display of historical figures in toupees and concludes with a balding strong man with an axe being taken over by the demonic rug. Of course, there's a ridiculous “Or is it?” style ending.

The episode definitely needed to focus more on full-force surrealism like that or attempt a more subtle mix. While the premise of a parasitic toupee that inflicts its murderous impulses on its owner is ripe for absurd horror, this one is played for pure comedy. (“The Simpsons'” version is actually far grislier.) In fact, no origin or motivation is ever provided for the hairpiece's supernatural abilities or specific homicidal desires, which is unexpected. All of this just goes to show me, once again, that the command of tone director Irvin Kerschner showed on “The Empire Strikes Back” was difficult for him to replicate. I do like the central special effect of this episode though: The toupee itself, a squirming and creeping little creature that giggles wickedly to itself as it sets out to cause evil. Definitely needed more of that. [6/10]

The Munsters: Love Comes to Mockingbird Heights / Mummy Munster

"Love Comes to Mockingbird Heights" begins with a large crate full of gold coins, a shipment Uncle Gilbert is asking the family to watch over, coming to Mockingbird Heights. The banker sent to inspect the $180,000 payday is Alan Benson, who is immediately charmed by Marilyn. He seems determined to pursue her romantically, not even being put off by the family's trappings, but that's because he's a swindler after the money. "Mummy Munster" begins with Herman promising to pick up Marilyn from a school trip to the museum. He gets there late, after taking an experimental sleeping pill Grandpa has designed. The pill kicks in just as he's exploring the new Egyptian wing, falling asleep inside a sarcophagus and being mistaken for a priceless mummy. 

The first of these two is heavy on the clownish slapstick this show excels at. The scene where Lily and Grandpa attempt to accelerate Alan's seduction of Marilyn goes amusingly off-the-rails. Only this show could start a scene with a goofy chicken soup joke and end it with a self-playing organ bursting into flames. There's some goofiness involving Herman running around the house, which features a great line-reading from Gwynne. The finale also builds in amusingly silly ways, with Alan exiting the show in an especially absurd manner. At this point, I honestly feel bad for Marilyn. She has to put up with her family calling her plain all the time and the only guys that like her are crooks. But at least her aunt and uncle love her and it's that familial sweetness that really brings me back to this show.

Of course, this episode is most famous for the appearance of Uncle Gilbert, who directly identifies himself as the Creature from the Black Lagoon before the end. It's interesting that this show would play the youngest of Universal's monsters as an elderly uncle. It's also obvious that Bud Westmore just stuck a mask on some poor actor, whose eyes and lips are visible through the Gillman get-up. Nevertheless, who could resist another one of the classic monsters joining "The Munsters'" family? It's simply too perfect. 

"Mummy Munster," disappointingly, doesn't see another classic monster joining the Munsters fold. However, it's still a pretty funny episode. Obviously, the point of this entire contrive scenario is the scene of Herman waking up in the sarcophagus and scaring a very confused guard. The episode keeps building on that idea, having the museum curator become convinced Lily has stolen the mummy and putting an unconscious again Herman in the back of a cop car. Exactly the kind of silliness we expect from this program. As always, the cast can be counted on to elevate the material. Yvonne De Carlo gets a big laugh when she reacts with outrage to the suggestion she married a mummy. I also like the scene where Grandpa bribed Herman to take the second pill with a promise of candy, which pays off nicely a few minutes later. [Love Comes to Mockingbird Heights: 7/10 / Mummy Munster: 7/10]