The blockbuster success of “Fatal Attraction” would essentially birth a whole new subgenre. The domestic thriller would combine psychological suspense and family-centric melodrama, usually with sprinklings of the slasher movie or eroticism. In these films, it's not just human life that is being threatened. Instead, the main element in peril is the sanctity of the white, upper-middle class, suburban family. The safety of the homestead, the innocence of the children, and the holy union of marriage were endangered by unhinged mistresses, teenage femme fatales, psycho neighbors, and clingy exes. Usually, it was a man's philandering ways that brought this problem among the family, the husband being punished for his misdeeds. Yet at least one example made the subtext of the domestic thriller actual text. “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle” would feature a deranged nanny with a grudge attempting to steal the most precious thing a screenwriter could imagine a woman having in the 90s: A loving family.
Claire Bartel is expecting her second child with her beloved husband, Michael. She visits a new obstetrician, who molests her on the examine table. Claire reports the incident, prompting other women to come forward. The resulting shame leads Dr. Mott to kill himself, which causes his wife, Peyton, to have a miscarriage. Nine months later, Claire gives birth to a baby boy, Joe. After a chance meeting, Claire hires Peyton to be the new nanny, unaware of who she really is. Peyton goes about integrating herself into the family, getting Joe and daughter Emma depended on her. She pushes away other family friends, like neurodivergant handyman Solomon and Michael's best friend. As Peyton plots to ruin Claire's life and steal her family, the housewife starts to realize she is in danger.
As dumb as “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle's” script is, the movie is gifted with a delightfully petty villainess. Rebecca De Mornay plays Peyton, from the minute she appears at the Bartels' house, with an unhinged gleam in her eyes. She's obviously evil, right from the get-go. A mere few scenes after entering the home, Peyton is breast-feeding baby Joey. Yet De Mornay is so amusing. She verbally attacks a child or Solomon, delivering brutal dialogue with an ice-cold venom in her voice. Her attempts to befriend Emma or seduce Michael are so transparently wicked, yet De Mornay's wide-eyed villainy is never less than totally entertaining.
The domestic thriller was red hot in 1992 and “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle” would become a hit that year. It stayed atop the box office for four weeks, despite being buried in the middle of January. Audiences just couldn't get enough of family disrupting stalker psychos at the time. It goes to show too how much the slasher formula had been integrated into mainstream thrillers by this point, when overcooked schlock like this could be given the glossy, big budget sheen. “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle” has neither the directorial skills of “Fatal Attraction” nor the Gothic nuance of “Single White Female.” A filmmaker of the caliber of Adrien Lynn, Barbet Schroeder, or Paul Verhoeven would've put this material through the roof. As it is, the film is too outrageous not to be highly entertaining and gets better the more it embraces its inherent trashiness. [7/10]
Herschell Gordon Lewis never had any pretensions about the kind of movies he made. He was a true exploitation filmmaker, in the business to make a quick buck and nothing more. The often inept quality of his films reflected this mercenary attitude. Despite all that, Lewis must've had some longing in his heart to make real art. In 1967, the Godfather of Gore would try his hand at a slightly classier type of horror movie than the fake blood filled quickies he usually specialized in. “A Taste of Blood” was Herschell Gordon Lewis' stab at making an epic, with a story that spanned the globe and a run time that extended to two hours. To further display his genuine artistic ambitions for this one, Lewis would draw inspiration from that classic piece of horror literature, Bram Stoker's “Dracula.”
Miami businessman John Stone fills his days playing golf and canoodling with his bombshell wife, Helene. That all changes when he receives a strange gift: Two cases of fine brandy from Moldova, sent by a recently deceased relative. Upon drinking from the bottles, which are actually filled with blood, Stone begins to change. He starts to hypnotize Helene, while wearing a large, distinctive ring. He travels to England, to drive a stake through the heart of a low-ranking lord. Stone has had his ancient ancestry, that of none other than Count Dracula, awoken. He is now on a quest to avenge the Count's death, murdering the descendants of Arthur Holmwood, Quincy Morris, and Abraham Van Helsing. It's up to the modern day Van Helsing and a bevy of other heroes to save Helene and stop Stone.
I suppose H.G.L must've been a horror fan, even though I imagine he was drawn to the genre more so because it's highly marketable. “A Taste of Blood” suggests he did long to make a classy – or classier anyway – vampire movie. The film often feels like Lewis' take on a Hammer or Bava movie. The scenes of the vampirized John lurking over a sleeping maiden's bed, blue lights shining on his face, must be the micro-budget attempts to emulate “Horror of Dracula” and the likes. Star Bill Rogers even looks and sounds a little like Christopher Lee. Of course, Lewis had none of the talent of Terence Fisher or Bava. There's plenty of awkward camerawork, shotgun editing, and super-fake blood here. Yet Herschell was definitely trying here. You can see a trace of style, even of motion and movement, in some of “A Taste of Blood's” more tolerable scenes.
In other words, Herschell Gordon Lewis' incredibly limited budget and even more limited talent really caught up with him on this one. “A Taste of Blood” is most entertaining when Lewis returns to familiar ground. Such as when the vampire stalks a burlesque dancer at a strip club or attacks a woman dipping into the pool. There's some weird touches, like a random guy walking his dog helping to save the day or Stone weaponizing a pool queue. Overall though, this is a painfully slow and largely uneventful effort. Lewis referred to “a Taste of Blood” as his masterpiece, so he must've been proud of it. However, I'd say his movies were better the leaner and meaner they were, not bloated up and trying to be classy.
[4/10]
“Two Sentence Horror Stories” was canceled by the CW earlier this year with little fanfare. Yet I've enjoyed the two episodes of the rarely discussed anthology I previously watched, so let's give another one a shot. “Crush” follows two elderly twins, Mabel and Jane Laurent, living in a moldering home piled up with decades of possessions. Mabel was a popular singer many years ago, while Mabel pines for contact with her estranged son. The two sisters bicker constantly, Jane killing Mabel's beloved pet rats and Mabel destroying Jane's prized mementos. When a caretaker named Seth enters the home, the years of resentment between the girls start to boil over. But Seth has a secret...
“Crush” is some amusingly trashy hag-horror. The production designer, set dresser, and costume maker really went all-out on this one. The home is filled, floor to ceiling, with old junk. Boxes over flow with weathered knickknacks. The twins wear perfectly gaudy outfits, poorly fitting gowns made up of mismatched colors. The more we see of “Crush's” setting, the more outrageously grotesque it becomes. Mabel keeps all her dead rats in shoe boxes, piled atop each other. Later, those boxes come falling down, little rat bones hitting the floor. Plates of moldy cheese are passed back and forth. Rotting dolls and stuffed animals, faded photographs, and wheezing old machinery decorate every corner of the house. It is all so beautifully hideous.
The story and tone matches the campy excess of the setting. At first, I thought one actress was playing both twins through camera tricks. Nope, the casting directors really did find elderly twin sisters who are both actresses. Jacqueline Robbins plays Mabel and Joyce Robbins plays Jane. And both are having a ball. Each sister clearly delights in being passive aggressive to the other, which both actresses truly embrace. As the material grows more overheated, so do these wonderfully over-the-top sisters. The scene where Jane humiliates Mabel by playing a recording of her career destroying performance is fantastic. As knowingly ridiculous as “Crush” is, you do end up caring about these two. Largely because the Robbins sisters ground them in just enough reality to make them seem real. Watching the two come together – in a plot twist that thankfully avoided the routine area I figured this would go at first – is truly satisfying. The final scene is an ideally monstrous note to take us out on. People rag on this show but, I don't know, I kind of love this stupid bullshit. [8/10]
Before directing mind-melting, instant cult classic “The Empty Man,” David Prior would make this similarly themed short film. “AM1200” follows Sam, a low-ranking executive who makes off with company funds after his partner-in-crime commits suicide. On the run, Sam drives his car down obscure roads. While scanning through the radio at night, he hears a snippet of a broadcast. Of someone begging from help, from the radio station AM1200. Unwittingly, he ends up at that exact station. Finding the road blocked, he steps inside and discovers a strange, jabbering man who handcuffed himself to a pole. The man goes on about receiving signals and summoning something. It's not long before Sam is feeling the influence of an otherworldly power too.
“The Empty Man” approached Lovecraftian horror in its own way. “AM1200” touches upon many of the same ideas. The central premise of the short is that receive signals much the same way radio stations can. Here, the signals aren't coming from broadcast towers but otherworldly entities. That's an idea Howard Philip probably would've approved of. Especially in the way connecting with these radio waves drives men to absolute madness. Just to make sure the Lovecraft vibes don't go unfulfilled, the short throws in an eldritch horror too. Making sure these horrors are extra cosmic, there's some time loop fuckery going on as well.
I suppose that, tackling massive ideas in a quirky way that perhaps overextends itself is exactly what one should expect from David Prior. Nevertheless, “AM1200” is a creepy and intriguing horror short. If you're a fan of space squids and going-mad-from-the-revelation, you should probably check it out. [7/10]
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