Halloween 2022: October 1st

Hocus Pocus 2 (2022)

Upon release in 1993, “Hocus Pocus” was not especially successful or well liked. Dropped into theaters in the middle of July for some reason, it got squashed at the box office by "Free Willy." Kids would rediscover the movie on VHS and, alongside perennial October TV airings, it would slowly gather a devoted cult following. In fact, "Hocus Pocus" is so beloved now that there's even been a backlash, with some saying the movie was never good and crediting its popularity to blind nostalgia run amok-amok-amok. Either way, Disney has been happy to cash-in on the film's fandom in recent years, with a flood of best-selling merchandise. Yet the much-demanded sequel wouldn't materialize until this year. Not in theaters, because Disney doesn't put medium budget releases in theaters anymore, but on their streaming service. 

130 years after the Sanderson sisters put a curse on the town of Salem, Massachusetts with their dying breaths, and three decades after that curse first returned them to life, the witchy siblings remain an oft-repeated piece of local lore. Teenagers Becca and Izzy are fans, spending Halloween tinkering with a childish version of witchcraft. On October 31st, which is also Becca's 16th birthday, they are given a candle by their friend Gilbert, who runs the local magic shop. This candle is actually a reformed version of the Black Flame Candle that resurrected the sisters last time. Becca lights the candle in the woods and returns the witch siblings to life once again. The Sandersons resume their quest to reclaim Winifred's spell book, maintain their youth, and take vengeance on Salem. 

When a sequel to “Hocus Pocus” was announced, I drearily assumed it would be a quick-and-easy nostalgia grab. When Anne Fletcher – previously of uninspiring rom-coms like “27 Dresses” or “The Proposal” – signed on, I was further convinced this is what we'd get. It brings me no pleasure to report that my suspicions were right. “Hocus Pocus 2” is one of those dreary comedy sequels that limply re-enacts the gags from the first movie with the minimal amount of moderation. The Sanderson sisters jump on things besides brooms to fly. This time, Sarah is on a Wet-Jet mop and Mary skates around on a pair of Roombas. The sisters walk together in a synchronized creeping motion, as they did last time. Billy Butcherson gets decapitated and, of course, Bette Midler gets up on stage and sings. (This time, it's a version of Elton John's “The Bitch is Back,” which obviously trades out the titular swear for “witch.”) Lines of dialogue, down to the exact same intonations, are reprised.

If “Hocus Pocus 2” has any greater ambitions than to remind people of the original, they are smothered under a screenplay that's been work-shopped to death. Proving it's a product of our modern ambiguity-averse age, the sequel begins with an origin story for the Sanderson sisters. This opening sets up everything else that will happen in the movie. Winifred Sanderson's rival in ancient Salem is revealed to be the town reverend, whose descendant is now the mayor. Obviously, this means their conflict will drive part of the plot. The opening also establishes an extremely powerful incantation in the back of the Sandersons' spell book and that girls become witches when they turn sixteen. Both of these elements predict what happens in the last act, draining any dramatic tension from everything that follows. 

The original “Hocus Pocus” wasn't brilliantly written either. However, it at least had protagonists I could care about. Omri Katz' Max struggled to make friends in a new town, get a cute girl to like him, and learned to appreciate his bratty little sister. All everyday concepts any adolescent can relate to. The new heroes of “Hocus Pocus 2” are never that well defined. Becca and Izzy had some falling-out with former friend, Cassie. The schism seems to revolve around Cassie getting a boyfriend but the specifics are left frustratingly vague. Becca never comes to life as a character and her friends are even thinner. Worst yet, “Hocus Pocus 2” spreads its time over several subplots. The redemption of Gilbert, Billy Butcherson's return, the mayor's whole deal, and the Sandersons getting into shenanigans all take away screen time from protagonists who desperately needed depth. 

Whatever structural flaws the original “Hocus Focus” had, the cast at least insured it included some laughs. What chuckles are to be had in part two are thanks to the performers. Sarah Jessica Parker's enthusiastic goofiness is still well used as Sara, especially when measuring the width of a doorway. Bette Midler still has a mischievous glimmer in her eyes as Winifred, that provides some over-the-top goofiness. Yet there are generally too few laughs here. The witches showing up at a Sanderson sisters themed drag contest made me chuckle. As did their encounter with an Alexa device. Yet the fish-out-of-water shenanigans here are mostly uninspired. Sticking the sisters in a Walgreens does not provide a lot of opportunities for first-class chuckles. 

I don't rank it in the top echelon of family-friendly Halloween entertainment but I have enjoyed the original “Hocus Pocus” countless times since childhood. I've never had much desire for a sequel and “Hocus Pocus 2” makes a compelling argument why. There's not much more to do with these witches that wasn't done the first time around. Despite the sequel's determination to recapture the original's zest, Fletcher doesn't even do a good job of recreating how it looked. Salem looks nothing here like it did back in 1993. While Disney moms and their offspring will probably continue to enjoy the original's campy charms, “Hocus Pocus 2” is destined to be forgotten. [5/10] 

Reptilicus (1961)

When people think of the cinema of Denmark, usually the works of serious, art-house auteurs like Carl Theodor Dreyer, Lars Von Tier, or Nicholas Winding Refn come to mind. Denmark is not a country especially known for its horror movies, much less its giant monster movies.  There is, however, one exception to that rule. In the late fifties, decorated war hero, successful science fiction author, and B-movie screenwriter Ib Melchior decided Scandinavia needed its own version of “Godzilla.” Teaming with director Poul Bang, “Reptilicus” was born. A Danish version was shot alongside an American version, produced by Sidney Pink and released by A.I.P., which would slither into U.S. theaters in 1961. In the decades since, “Repitilicus” has gone down in monster movie history as one of the most ridiculous creature features ever filmed. 

In an obscure corner of Lapland, a group of copper miners accidentally drill into the frozen remains of an enormous prehistoric beast. The meaty chunks are taken to a laboratory in Copenhagen. After an incompetent security guard defrosts the specimen, scientists are shocked to discover the flesh is regenerating. Soon, the tail – dubbed “Reptilicus” by the press – has grown into an enormous snake-like monster. The creature escapes the lab and begins to rampage through the Danish countryside. The military is uncertain how to stop the monster, knowing that any attempt to blow it to bits will just result in more remains that could regrow again. Scientists and generals scramble to find a solution before all of Denmark is crushed in Reptilicus' scaly coils. 

There's just no way around the fact that “Reptilicus” features probably the goofiest looking movie monster this side of “The Giant Claw.” After re-growing from a lumpy, wet piece of meat, Reptilicus is rendered as a shaggy puppet. The scales always look on the verge of falling off. When combined with the stringy saliva dangling from its jaws and the occasional tuffs of hair, the effect makes the serpent look incredibly threadbare. Its glassy eyes are unmoving. Its mouth lobs open unconvincingly. The way Reptilicus is animated can only be described as awkward. Its jerky motion recalls, at best, a creature on the verge of death and, more commonly, a child's marionette tugged along by a string. It's impossible to believe this thing is alive, much less a threat to anyone. The scene devoted to the Navy pummeling the monster with bombs gives the impression of a totally one-sided fight.

If “Reptilicus” simply had terminally silly special effects and everything else worked, maybe the film could've been salvaged. Instead, pretty much every aspect is incredulous. The miniature sets look fine but Reptilicus spends most of the movie slithering around the Danish countryside, furthering the impression that this is a sloppy affair where not much is at stake. Any time the monster has to interact with human beings, whatever illusion exists totally falls apart. A scene where Reptilicus eats a rural family features some of the most hilariously bad photography effects I've ever seen. Probably to make the creature more of a threat, the American cut gave him the ability to spew globs of glowing green acid. The animation effects are crude as can be, rarely looking like they exist on the same plane as the puppets and people, and only make the movie more hilariously cockeyed.  

In fact, sometimes I wonder if “Reptilicus” is even meant to be taken seriously. The film includes a sizable part for beloved Danish comedian Dirch Passer. Passer plays the buffoonish security guard who is responsible for Reptilicus getting loose. He spends all his scenes in hillbilly overalls. One moment has him burping while another involves him convulsing cartoonishly after sticking his hand in an electric eel tank. The rest of the film's cast are ostensibly playing it straight but they are still impossible to take seriously. The American version was shot with the Danish actors speaking phonetic English. It sounded so bad that A.I.P. dubbed it anyway. The result is a movie that feels constantly out-of-sync with reality. This makes the occasional melodrama in the story – the scientist having a heart attack and worrying his pretty blonde daughter – seem totally surreal. 

“Reptilicus” is also something of an advertisement for Denmark as a tourist destination. There's a lengthy scene devoted to showing off the landmarks of Copenhagen, concluding with a musical number called “Tivoli Nights.” Imagine the slogan: “Come to sunny Copenhagen! Get eaten by a giant snake!” That might explain why the monster – constantly referred to as a reptile or even a dinosaur – more closely resembles a mythological wyvern. The original cut even featured scenes, deemed too laughable even by A.I.P.'s standards, of Reptilicus flying around with his little, vestigial wings. All in all, it adds up to a thoroughly delirious experience. “Reptilicus” would appear on the Netflix season of “Mystery Science Theater 3000.” I don't know why it took that long for the movie to crop up on the show. Ridiculous to its core but never boring, “Reptilicus” is a prime slice of smelly, tasty B-movie cheese. Or should I say esrom? [7/10]

The Outer Limits: The Bellero Shield

If you are familiar with UFO mythology, you know the image of the gray alien comes from Betty and Barney Hill. If you're familiar with skeptical investigation, you know that image was probably taken from “The Outer Limits” episode, “The Bellero Shield.” The episode follows Richard Bellero, an inventor and son of a rich industrialist he's desperate to please. He creates a powerful laser that he shoots into the night sky. Dad doesn't see much profitable application of this technology and threatens to cut his son out of the company. After he leaves, the beam teleports a glowing alien into the laboratory. The peaceful visitor brings with him a device that can generate an impenetrable force field. Bellaro's ambitious wife, Judith, sees the shield as valuable technology... And she's willing to kill to keep it. Yet the device is not as easy to use as it seems. 

No matter how low its budgets might have been, “The Outer Limits” always had big ideas backing up its script. “The Bellero Shield” is full of allusions to Norse mythology – Judith calls the laser beam the bifrost – and Shakespeare. The script is loosely inspired by “MacBeth,” with its power hungry wife and heirs to (metaphorical, in this case) empires. The somewhat confusing ending, probably the weakest thing about the episode, even has a damned spot refusing to go out. You can tell the screenwriter, “Psycho” adapter Joseph Stefano, took this material utterly seriously. The dialogue is often verbose. The drama between the cast members is heavy with portent, with past traumas, impending death, and the fate of mankind all being topics of conversation. 

While it borders on pretentious at times, “The Bellero Shield” still proves to be a compelling hour of television. The most compelling thread throughout the story, for me, is the tension between Bellero and his father. You'd think inventing a laser beam that can travel across the cosmos would impress most people. Yet Bellero Sr. can only see his boy as a disappointment. His wife, played by a convincingly intense Sally Kellerman, supports his dreams but has her limits too. Martin Landau is compelling as a man pulled between wanting to secure his future and do the right thing by his extraterrestrial visitor. The unrest in the household even extends to the maid, who has buried secrets of her own. “The Bellero Shield” is concerned with high-minded sci-fi ideas but brings it all down to earth with an almost noir-like interest in dysfunctional human psychology. 

“The Bellero Shield's” traveler from the stars might be peaceful but the episode is still sinister enough to fit a Halloween marathon. The mansion is full of shadows, creating a suitably dark atmosphere. The threat in the second half, of a being trapped inside an inescapable force field, is certainly a frightening premise. The alien always has a shimmering effect over him which, when combined with the lo-fi lasers and shields, give this a suitably dream-like ambiance. It's easy to see why that image made such an impression on Betty Hill's subconscious. The creature's white skin, wide eyes, and smooth face does indeed resemble the classical gray alien. [7/10]

The Munsters: Tin Can Man / Herman the Great

“Tin Can Man” begins with Herman outraged that Eddie is flunking out of science. It soon becomes clear this is because of the prison-guard-turned-teacher Mr. Taggert's strict tactics. Grandpa decides to help the boy pull up his grades by building him a fully-functioning robot, which soon gets into a conflict with the teacher. In “Herman the Great,” Eddie's friend Wilbur is the son of a pro-wrestler promoter. After seeing how super-strong Herman is, he decides to fire the Frankenstein to be a masked wrestler. This happens to dovetail with the Munsters parents' plan to start saving cash for Eddie's college fund.

“Tin Can Man” is notable for a few reasons. It's the first to reference Herman's day job, at a funeral home. It's also one of the rare times the conflicts between the Munsters and normal humans get violent. The belligerent Mr. Taggert belittles Grandpa until he gets into a fist fight with the robot. While I was hoping the plot would actually develop Eddie's personality more, the boy remains mostly undefined. (Though it does lead to a rather sweet conclusion.) Despite these distinguishing elements, this is otherwise a typical episode of “The Munsters.” Laugh highlights include the Munster-logic punishments his parents threaten Eddie with, an emergency surgery Grandpa performs on the robot, and Lily's bemused reaction to the sexist joke book her husband carries around. Naturally, that B-plot becomes important during the talent show set finale. As always, Fred Gwyne's joyfully silly delivery counts for a lot.

“The Munsters” has been using Herman's super-strength for easy gags from the beginning, so it was probably inevitable that the show would do a pro-wrestling episode. I was really expecting this to go the route of Eddie admiring “The Masked Marvel” without realizing he's his dad. Instead, Herman's super-strength makes him such an unstoppable force in the ring that everyone sees him as a ruthless bully. This is, of course, the opposite of Herman's actual personality. He looses all his matches because the other wrestler always give him sad sack stories in the ring, forcing him to throw the matches in their favors. It's a funny subversion of what you might expect, which helps build up an episode low on the wordplay and sight gags that represents this show at its best. (Though we do get plenty of that in the final minutes.) [Tin Can Man: 7/10 / Herman the Great: 6/10]