Halloween 2023: October 1st

Subspecies V: Bloodrise (2023)

When Radu was decapitated and burned to ash in “Subspecies 4,” that seemed as concrete a conclusion as the franchise could have. Yet Ted Nicolaou never seemed prepared to let his vampiric offspring stay dead forever. A handful of times over the years, rumors of a fifth “Subspecies” – a prequel, detailing Radu's origins – would surface. Yet the Full Moon of the 21st century is not the same company it was in the early nineties. These days, Charles Band occupies himself with endless “Evil Bong” sequels, clip shows, and quickies shot on green-screen and designed to capitalize on whatever's in the news that week. When he does produce a new entry in his classic franchises, the results are usually discouraging. Nevertheless, “Subspecies V: Bloodrise” was formally announced in 2019 as part of Full Moon's Deadly Ten initiative. In-between “Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-o-Rama 2” and “The Grim Rapper,” Nicolaou and Band would film the prequel this year, with the series established stars returning. 

During the twelfth century, vampire king Vladislav and undying sorceress Circe beget Radu. The half-vampire infant is immediately abducted by the Knights Templar, who raise him as one of their own. After a lifetime spent eliminating vampires for the church, Radu returns to Vladislav's castle. He learns of his true origins, discovers the Bloodstone, and meets Helena – Vladislav's concubine – and Stefan, her half-vampire offspring. Radu becomes enamored of Helena, quickly getting bitten by her and becoming a full vampire. Reuniting with his mother and learning the dark arts, the now ageless vampire searches the ancient world for companionship and a love he can never have. 

I often joke with my buddy that modern Full Moon features are made for ten bucks each. This is an exaggeration, of course, but the movies often carry that air of utter cheapness. “Subspecies V” is still, obviously, a very low budget motion picture. The digital effects, such as whenever the vampires turn into shadows, look directly out of After Effects. The practical make-up effects are not quite up to the standards of the older films. The movie also, repeatedly, does this extremely annoying thing where it uses Zack Snyder-style ramping to illustrate the vampires' speed. Despite all these issues, you can tell Nicolaou and cinematographer Vladimir Ilic did their best to replicate the look and feel of the original “Subspecies.” This one was shot in Serbia, not Romania, but it still captures that old world sense of age and isolation. There's some cool old castle and some shots of Radu sneaking through the fog. It's appreciated. 

Though some of Nicolaou's vampire movies overdid the lore and backstory, you can tell he's really been thinking about Radu's origins over the last twenty-five years. “Bloodrise” covers a period of about 566 years. It shows how Radu went from being a weathered human – Anders Hove looking very much like he's 66 – to being the gnarly vampire we know and love. His first meeting with “Vampire Journals'” Ash is shown, as are his introduction with the Bloodstone and the magic dagger. There are rivalries and love interests introduced along the way, some more fleshed out than others. This is a lot to squeeze into an eighty minute movie. “Bloodrise” frequently feels like a highly condensed adaptation of a sprawling novel. Yet it's surprising how well the film captures the ennui and loneliness that comes with living an endless, bloodsucking life. 

As dangerously close as “Bloodrise” comes to being bogged down by ridiculous vampire melodrama, something remains compelling about its central conflict. Radu is immortal and immensely powerful but also incredibly lonely. He turns Ash and his companion Ariel into vampires because their music brings him comfort. Yet, after they become undead, they loose the ability to play music. Even more pressing is the character of Helena, who is played by Denice Duff. Hove and Duff continue to share the embittered chemistry they once had, with Helena being even more conflicted and combative than Michelle was. Anytime Radu finds someone he cares about, they abandon him, betray him, or he destroys them through his own hubris. The idea that Radu has been chasing Helena's ghost for something like 700 years re-contextualize his pursuit of Michelle in the first four movies. It confirms that the raspy vampire is as tragic a figure as I've always felt he was.

For long-time fans of the franchise, “Bloodrise” is mostly as satisfying an origin story as I think we could get. It introduces Radu's rivalry with Stefan while also, finally, giving us a good idea of why the Bloodstone is so damn special. (Apparently it produces a drug-like high in vampires, which one assumes is addictive.) I'm not sure what happens with Radu's dad here squares with the events of the first film but.. Oh well. Maybe Ted forgot some things since 1991. I am admittedly grading it on the incredibly steep curve of “modern day Full Moon movies,” which no doubt had me going in with extremely low expectations. Yet “Subspecies V” proves to be a surprisingly well done and effective capstone on a series that I assumed was long since dead. [7/10]

Tarantulas; The Deadly Cargo (1977)

It's well known that the seventies was awash with killer animal movies. Most attribute this fad to the mega-success of “Jaws,” which isn't wrong. Many of these beastly flicks were directly inspired by Spielberg's shark thriller. Yet “Willard” becoming a surprise blockbuster earlier in the decade also led to a wave of movies about smaller critters attacking people amass. Snakes, frogs, bees, and ants would swarm all over folks throughout the disco decade. The same decade is also considered a golden age for made-for-TV horror movies but don't think for a minute that television producers weren't interested in cashing in on fads. In 1977, all these factors would combine to bring us a small-screen creepy crawler creature feature called “Tarantulas: The Deadly Cargo.”  

A pair of unscrupulous fellows plan to make a mint by flying coffee beans in from South America. Unbeknownst to them, a whole horde of venomous tarantulas have stowed away inside the bags. When the spiders attack, the plane crash-lands in the California town of Finleyville. Soon, the spiders begin to creep out and cause chaos, being responsible for several mysterious deaths. The mayor of the town is unwilling to declare an emergency, in fear of disrupting the town's lucrative orchards. That means it's up to everyday folks with names like Bert, Joe, and Doc Hodgins to stop the wave of arachnid terror and save the town before it's too late.

Many seventies Movies of the Week are well-remembered for putting clever spins on otherwise familiar genre troupes. Yet there's a reason “Tarantulas: The Deadly Cargo” isn't spoken of in the same breathes as “The Night Stalker” or “Don't Be Afraid of the Dark.” The movie faithfully follows the cliches you'd expect from a “Jaws” rip-off and a low-budget disaster flick. As in “Jaws,” the mayor downplays the animalistic threat in hopes of protecting the town's profitable businesses. (Though an orange distribution plant is not as flashy as a beach.) Both movies even feature a young boy being claimed by the threat. As in the decade's various disaster flicks, it's up to a ragtag team of common men to contain the beasties. An estranged couple even patch up their romantic problems by the end. It's clear director Stuart Hagmann – making his final film after an undistinguished career of episodic television and weepy social dramas – was not interested in reinventing the wheel here. 

In fact, Hagmann doesn't show much aptitude for the horror genre in general. “Tarantulas” is, as far as killer spider movies go, extremely sleepily paced. Mundell Lowe's weirdly funky but also largely mellow theme song sets the mood here. “The Deadly Cargo” languidly moves from scene to scene without much tension ever being raised. Even the death of a child is treated matter-of-factly. A sense of suspense is never created, not even during the finale where an amusingly implausible trap is set for the tarantulas. Perhaps this is because the movie seems hesitant to show off the ick factor of its star arachnids. Compared to the same year's “Kingdom of the Spiders,” which absolutely covered Captain Kirk in spiders, there's very little interaction between humans and tarantulas here. We only ever see the eight-legged fuzz-butts crawling towards people, never on them. We only see the aftermath of their bites, never the action itself. This is some low-wattage horror here.

I first became aware of “Tarantulas: The Deadly Cargo” many years ago after discovering a DVD copy in, of all places, a Dollar General. The reason the case caught my eye is because Tom Atkins and Howard Hesseman were top-billed. Sadly, the movie does not fulfill that promise of Dr. Johnny Fever and Detective Cameron blasting spiders. Atkins and Hesseman play the pilots who are responsible for unwittingly smuggling the tarantulas into Finleyville. The two ham it up nicely in their scenes but exit the film early. Instead, the stars are veteran character actor Claude Akins, future Commissioner Gordon Pat Hingle, and forgettable working actor Charles Frank. Akins and Hingle furrow their brows in consternation throughout the film but the script gives them almost nothing to work with. Charles Frank gets the juiciest character arc, as the guy trying to work out with his old girlfriend, but Frank is an especially uninvolving performer. 

Of course, anyone who knows anything about spiders is aware of the fact that tarantulas pose no threat to humans. They may look hairy and fearsome, and their bites can sting, but their venom is never deadly. Even the movie seems vaguely cognizant of this. Though the spiders are played by (the very pretty) Mexican red-knee tarantulas, they are referred to in the film as Brazilian wandering spiders. That species does have potent venom that has led to several deaths but they also are not tarantulas. “Tarantulas: The Deadly Cargo” received two Emmy nominations for its sound work but, otherwise, fell into obscurity quickly. Proving no creature feature is altogether forgotten these days, the film recently got a decent Blu-Ray release for those Atkins devotees really desperate to complete their collection. [4/10]

The Twilight Zone: The Obsolete Man

So many episodes of “The Twilight Zone” have become pop culture staples, their twist endings and ironic messages ingrained within the brains of sci-fi and horror nerds even if they haven't actually seen them. This is why, this year, I decided to seek out one of the less widely discussed episodes of Rod Serling's classic series. “The Obsolete Man” takes place in a dystopian future where the state deems what people are and aren't useful to society. One such man on trial is Mr. Wordsworth, a librarian. In a state where books are often banned and certain ideas are prosecuted, such a job is deemed obsolete. Wordsworth is allowed to choose his own form of execution, which is televised, and he uses this as a chance to confront the man who has condemned him. 

“The Obsolete Man” is one of the “Twilight Zone” episodes that leaves no ambiguity about its meaning. This is a half-hour about fascism, about the state declaring itself all-powerful, oppressing and destroying ideas it deems inappropriate, and killing men for any reason they see necessary. Hitler and Stalin are name-dropped. A society where everyone is recorded and broadcast, while conformity is enforced through uniforms and lifeless rooms, recalls “1984.” (While the focus on books being banned points towards “Fahrenheit 451.”) Inevitably, the councilor discovers that his status does not protect him from this prosecution either. What makes Serling's thesis a little muddled here is that this state openly represses religion. Wordsworth is a Christian. He reads from the banned Bible. We know all too well that American Fascism will be happy to use religion as a cudgel. I guess, during the Cold War era, this was a little harder to acknowledge. 

Aside from this slightly confusing tangent, “The Obsolete Man” remains an captivating and intense presentation. It's largely a two-man show between Burgess Meredith as the punningly named Wordsworth and Fritz Weaver as the unnamed chancellor. Watching two compelling actors trade theatrical dialogue, in such a confined set, is worthwhile in of itself. Director Elliot Silverstein overlays a ticking clock – alongside other optical tricks – over much of the second half, helping raise the tension. The downbeat ending is similarly effective, as the viewer feels the hopelessness close in on them too. 

Also noteworthy is the expressive set design of the court room, which features an elongated judge's pulpit and table. That gives the proceedings even more of a dream-like, nightmarish feel. You could never call “The Obsolete Man” subtle, especially since Rod Serling's opening and closing narrations lay out the themes explicitly. By the way, his epilogue, as written, downplayed the religious element of the story too. That makes me wonder if some network pressure wasn't a factor in that. Either way, “The Obsolete Man” is a compelling and distressing half-hour of television. [7/10]

The Munsters: Operation Herman / Lily's Star Boarder

“Operation Herman” begins with Eddie coming home from school upset. His dad soon uncovers this is because the boy has to have his tonsils out. Though the operation goes off without a hitch – despite the doctor being near-sighted – Herman discovers he has a fear of the doctor's office. Grandpa talks his son-in-law into sneaking out of the house to visit the boy in the hospital. “Lily's Star Boarder” sees Mrs. Munster renting their guest room out to a mysterious fellow. Herman is immediately jealous of the attention the guy is getting, suspecting he's up to something... Which he is, as the guy is an undercover cop spying on the criminal operation next door.

“Operation Herman” is one of those episodes based on wacky misunderstandings, of the Munsters wandering into a traditional setting and fouling it up while normies react to the Munsters with shock and confusion. Lots of silliness ensues and some gags are more amusing than others. A surgeon mistaking Herman for an accident victim made me chuckle. Grandpa gets a few good lines, about necks. The running gag of Herman passing out at the sight of Eddie's tonsils and the buffoonish doctor looking down Eddie's throat are less inspired. Truthfully, this episode feels kind of directionless, sleepily progressing from one bit to another without much of an overarching theme. 

The second episode of this batch takes similar set-up – the Munsters reacting to mundane humans – to far funnier places. Basing the comedic premise around Herman making a fool of himself, set in his own childish tendencies, makes for a much richer set-up. Watching the misunderstanding play out is much more satisfying, when it's based in the established character's personalities. There's some broad physical comedy too, though even that made me chuckle thanks to the ridiculous lengths the episode takes it. And it all works out okay in the end, the way we expect from these old sitcoms. Satisfying, ya know? [Operation Herman: 6/10 / Lily's Star Boarder: 7/10]