Halloween 2023: October 10th

Gothic (1986)

Back in January, beloved character actor and genre film icon Julian Sands disappeared while hiking in the San Gabriel Mountains. Evidence of avalanches had been found in the area and, after Sands remained missing for several weeks, he was assumed deceased. Finally, in June, his body was uncovered and his remains were put to rest, perhaps bringing some sort of closure to his family. Among horror fans, Sands will probably be best remembered for the “Warlock” movies. Yet Sands appeared in all sorts of quirky motion pictures, bringing his particular charms to a wide variety of stories. Among his oddest ventures was his starring role as Percy Shelly in Ken Russell's surreal interpretation of the night that birthed “Frankenstein” and “The Vampyre,” 1986's “Gothic.” 

During the summer of 1816, Mary Godwin and her lover Percy Shelley travel with Mary's stepsister, Claire, to visit celebrated poet and notorious libertine Lord Byron in Switzerland. Claire is one of Byron's many lovers, which includes his live-in physician, Dr. John Polidori. The five youths indulge in wine, drugs, and each other. As a storm blows in that night, they read from a volume of German ghost stories. This prompts Byron to propose a contest, for everyone to write their own ghost stories. In order to assist in this, the party performs a séance. This seemingly summons a spirit, that haunts everyone in the chateau, forcing their greatest fears and darkest nightmares to manifest.

Quite coincidentally, I've been reading and re-reading Victorian Gothic horror literature all month, including the 1818 text of “Frankenstein.” What has struck me the most about all of these stories is the roles the subconscious play in them. “Dracula,” “Carmilla,” “Jekyll & Hyde,” “The Dream-Woman,” “George Dobson's Expedition to Hell” and many others all feature night terror imagery or repressed thoughts effecting the waking world. I have no doubt that Russell and screenwriter Stephen Volk were aware of this when conceptualizing “Gothic.” This is a movie where sleep, dreams, and drug induced visions all come to life. The line between these states and death or mania are blurred. Mary, Byron, and Polidori attempt to invoke their creative drives and bring their demons to flesh in the process. This is a strong metaphor for the writing process, itself an experience not too indifferent from dreaming or hallucinating. 

As for the sexual repression... We tend to think of the Victorian era, and its most famous authors, as chaste poets. The truth is Percy, Mary, and Lord Byron most of all where passionate young people, heavily using drugs. Many historians believe that they were probably all fucking each other. Ken Russell, being a filmmaker fond of elaborate sexual imagery, doesn't hold back. “Gothic” is heavy on the nudity and sexual liaisons. Byron's sexual appetite is limitless, Polidori's homosexuality is barely repressed, and it's implied Percy lusts after Mary's stepsister. Russell, of course, is happy to load the film down with sexual imagery. A haunted suit of armor, animated by crawling leeches, sports a metal erection. Percy attempts to molests a sexualized automata. A goat is milked suggestively. Byron going down on Claire in a vampiric manner is contrasted with Polidori mutilating his hand during an apparent masturbatory session. “Gothic” is a kinky, weird movie that forces us to think of these literary icons are sexually vivacious young people.

Whether you'll be able to tolerate Russell's maximalist approach to history is a matter of taste. “Gothic” is heavy on phantasmagoric sights, such as the crouching imp upon the sleeping madam gracing the poster. (Itself an image rift with subconscious and sexual implications.) Russell fills the movie with freaky imagery, like nipples being replaced with eyes or roaches crawling from a corpse's mouth. The séance sequence, where Claire gives voice to the subconscious fears and desires plaguing the group, is just the first sign we are headed into Freaksville. Russell's camera captures the impressive sets from artistic angles. As Mary has visions of the future, the film only gets more dream-like. Adding to “Gothic's” swirling strangeness is an anachronistic synth score from Thomas Dolby, which only enhances the uncanny tone. 

Befitting a film of such oversized emotions and far-out visuals, “Gothic's” cast similarly goes for broke. Gabriel Bryne plays Byron as a satyr-like predator, with a devilish grin and a sadistic desire to impose his will on others. Julian Sands depicts Percy largely in the grips of a laudanum spell. He shrieks, shivers, yells, and enunciates, sometimes while naked and from roof tops. Miriam Cyr, as Claire, brings an animalistic spirit to the troubled young woman. Timothy Spall perfectly plays up Polidori's pathetic, conflicted nature. Everyone sweats a ton and even Natasha Richardson as Mary, by far the most subdued performance, screams for the rafters on more than one occasion. 

How much insight “Gothic” gives into what is likely the most significant night in horror history is debatable. It's not a historical record, obviously, while most of the reflection it has on these authors is probable heresy. The idea that Mary Shelley's stillborn child or Polidori's homoerotic longings for his boss inspired “Frankenstein” and “The Vampyre” are hotly debated. Yet “Gothic's” supposition that writers express their secret fears and desires through their writing is unavoidable. One of three films released in the late eighties about these same events, “Gothic” is by far the creepiest and most unhinged. And this is probably one of Ken Russell's more restrained biographies of famous Europeans. [7/10]

Yongary, Monster from the Deep (1967)

Taekoesu Yonggary

Obviously, Japan was absolutely covered with giant monsters in the sixties. Godzilla and all his allies and enemies, Gamera and his motley rogues gallery, the Gargantuas, Daimajin, and even relative unknowns like Gappa and Guilala would each have their shots at flattening the Land of the Rising Sun. But what about glorious Nippon's neighbors to west? Surely the Japanese were not the only Asian filmmakers to try their hands at rubber-suited monster mayhem.  Indeed, South Korea would produce two giant monster flicks during the Kaiju Boom. Probably the most notable of these is “Yongary, Monster from the Deep,” a blatant attempt by Keukdong Entertainment to emulate the “Godzilla” series. No complete print of the original cut is known to exist but the English language dub – produced by A.I.P. for U.S. television in 1969 – is widely available. This should give us something of an idea of what director Kim Ki-Duk's original vision was.

Yoo Kwang-nam, an astronaut, is deployed to spy on a nuclear test in the Middle East. The bomb triggers an earthquake across the Asian continent. In South Korea, a crack in the earth opens up. From under the ground an enormous, oil-drinking, fire-breathing dinosaur emerges. Quickly dubbed Yongary, the monster starts to rampage through Korea in search of crude to consume. Among those effected by the creature's march across the country is Il-Woo, a scientist working on combating the monster, and Icho, a little boy who forms a bond with Yongary. As the Korean army is overwhelmed by the giant monster, new techniques must be found to combat the monster.

While I went into this one hopeful that it would provide a uniquely Korean perspective on the giant monster premise, “Yongary” is blatantly derivative of countless other kaiju flicks. Yongary is not an especially novel or innovative design. He looks like a generic big, green dinosaur with the large horn on his snout being the only distinctive aspect. The expected urban destruction scenes are fairly well done. The focus is definitely on Yongary stomping through Seoul and smashing buildings, with less fight scenes against the local military. The highlight of the movie occurs when an enraged Yongary overturns a bridge, like it's a coffee table. Overall though, the city-smashing carnage feels listlessly executed. There's no sense of dread, like in the early “Godzilla” movies, or the non-stop monster wrasslin' that made the later “Godzilla” sequels so popular. It's just a fairly lifeless reenactments of stuff we've seen in other movies. 

While “Godzilla” is obviously the main inspiration here, “Yongary” is emulating the “Gamera” franchise as well. You see this most blatantly in Icho's fascination and fondness for the giant monster. Even though the dinosaur does nothing but create havoc, Icho insists that the monster's not so bad. At the same time, he later assists the government in destroying the enormous beast, making you wonder what his exact loyalties are. Probably the film's most notorious moment occurs when Icho points an itch-causing ray at Yongary, causing him to break out into a Twist-like dance while a surf rock number plays on the soundtrack. Much like Gamera, Yongary sucks fire into his mouth. He also has some random super powers, like shooting a laser beam from his glowing horn. 

Considering the original “Godzilla” was haunted by the destruction Japan suffered during World War II, it's tempting to read “Yongary” as a similar reaction to the Korean War. And this may very well be true. I can only imagine that the scenes of Seoul being evacuated or crowds fleeing in terror from their homes reminded audiences of the war, which was far from a distant memory in 1967. Yet “Yongary” is mostly a light-hearted but dry affair. There are multiple sequences of scientists, military leaders, and government officials sitting in laboratories, discussing what to do. The monster is defeated with a chemical weapon that's cooked up through science-fiction methods. Only a handful of moments – rich businessman eating in a fancy restaurant while the poor flee the monster – seem to have any weight or social commentary. 

“Yongary” is almost definitely more interesting for its historical value. It was a Japanese co-production, Toei assisting on the special effects, despite Japanese films being banned at this time in Korea. The film received a big-budget remake in 1999, which does not seem to be especially well received. Like I said, the fact that the U.S. dub is the only complete version of the film that survives is a bizarre piece of trivia. “Yongary” is actually predated by an earlier Korean giant monster movie, “Wangmagwi,” which was thought lost for decades before a copy was recently rediscovered. So maybe the original language version of “Yongary” is out there somewhere. Whether that version of the film is more interesting than the slow, goofy, rather uninspired American cut is a question we'll just have to ponder on for the time being. [5/10]

Tales from the Darkside: The Geezenstacks

"Tales from the Darkside” puts its own spin on the common horror anthology trope of creepy dolls. The Hummel family includes husband Sam, wife Edith, uncle Richard, and little daughter Audrey. Richard is a real estate agent and brings Audrey a doll house found abandoned in a recently sold home. Inside are a family of uncanny little dolls that Audrey names the Geezenstacks. Sam soon notices that the little adventures Audrey thinks up for her dolls predicts events happening with the family. That includes misfortunes like Sam falling sick or getting into an argument with Edith. He becomes obsessed with the eerie power the Geezenstacks seemingly hold over the household. 

While dolls in horror shows frequently spring to life, “The Geezenstacks” gets a lot more spookiness out of the dolls just sitting around and being eerie. I really can't undersell that everything that works about this episode is primarily because the titular playthings are creepy. Their faces are a little more lifelike than most dolls but they have big Margaret Keene eyes and grey alien proportions. They straddle the line between something a little girl would actually play with and something that would freak her parent's out. That Audrey is just acting like a normal kid, unaware of the unsettling parallels her playtimes have with her family, makes this idea all the more effective.

Without effectively uncanny dolls, I doubt “The Geezenstacks” would work. The acting is hammy overall, especially from Craig Wasson as the dad. The arguments he gets into with his wife do not seem organic. Because he's always anxious or bickering with his wife, the audience isn't given much opportunity to relate to them. The episode is also largely scored to a melodramatic violin score. I expected the plot to be moving towards disaster for the family. That something awful would befall the Geezenstacks and then their flesh-and-blood counterparts. Instead, the “Tales from the Darkside” writers cooked up a much goofier, more bizarre ending. It's memorable, if nothing else. A stronger cast and more artful direction probably could've gotten more mileage out of the appropriately eerie prop at the episode's center. [6/10]

The Munsters: Prehistoric Munster / A Visit from Johann

“Prehistoric Munster” is one of the few “The Munsters” episode that remembers Marilyn is a college student. She does a bust of Herman for her art class, which her professor takes for an impression of a prehistoric man. When Marilyn informs him that the model is still very much alive, the anthropology teacher wants to study Herman... Who has mistaken the examination for winning a Father of the Year award Eddie submitted him to. “A Visit from Johann” has Herman receiving a phone call from Dr. Frankenstein's great-grandson. Johann – a prototype for Herman made by the original doctor – has been found in Germany. Herman agrees to take the uncultured, primitive Johann into his home. When Lily plans a trip with her husband, she accidentally takes simpleton Johann along instead. 

The central joke of “Prehistoric Munster,” that a bunch of exaggerated professors think Herman is an evolutionary throwback when he thinks he won an award, is balanced well enough. The Frankensteinian dad seems awfully flirtatious, as he tries to tickle the doctor and asks if any of the examinations are “naughty.” Marilyn's art professor is played by George Petrie, putting on a really overdone German accent which only results in one decent joke. (About his own brilliance.) Overall, this episode is much funnier when focusing on weirdo, unrelated gags. Like Eddie interrupting Herman as he's shaving, whittling a pillar from the front porch, or Grandpa playing checkers with a random ghost.

Even though “The Munsters” already did the premise of Herman having a twin brother in season one's “Knock Wood, Here Comes Charlie,” the idea is revisited with Johann. At least the central joke here is different. Johann acts more like the traditional Frankenstein Monster, with a fear of fire and a limited vocabulary. Lily responding to her husband's look-a-like, but assuming he has a sore throat and cuddling up with him, is a good bit. Her reaction to finding out the truth is easily the highlight of the episode. For some reason, Dr. Frankenstein IV has a telepathic link with Johann, as big of a plot device as I've yet seen on this show. Also, this episode features a scene of Lily repeatedly asking Herman to “come out of the closest.” Interpret that as you choose. [Prehistoric Munster: 6/10 / A Visit from Johann: 7/10]