Halloween 2023: October 31st - HALLOWEEN

Unlike the last few years, I actually had concrete plans for Halloween night. I joined two of my oldest friends to hand out candy for the neighborhood kids. JD – who some of you might remember from my podcast days – always goes all-out, decorating the front yard as much as possible. I slapped on a cool, plastic devil mask I got a while back and was happy to join him. We had a great time giving some kids and youngsters their tricks and treats this year. After that eventful evening, it was back home for my traditional all night marathon of horror movies. The final night of the Halloween Blog-A-Thon commenced. 

Elvira's Halloween Special (1968)

The golden age of MTV passed long before my days. By the time I started paying attention, so-called Music Television had already long abandoned its mission statement of playing music videos. Nowadays, when everyone just looks up the music videos they want to watch on Youtube, MTV is even more pointless than it was fifteen years ago. Back in the days before every song ever recorded was available via the internet, you really did rely on whatever was shown on TV to see your favorite clips. At least MTV had fun with it back in the day, with their VJs and various themed programming blocks. Halloween specials used to be a common feature on the network. In 1984, Elvira hosted spooky music videos on October 31st. This must have been a success, as the Mistress of the Dark came back to the channel two years later to do it again. Because anything the beloved horror host touches develops a cult following, tape recordings of what is generally known as “Elvira's Halloween Special” continue to circulate around the usual places.

What makes Elvira's 1986 MTV special a little more distinctive than the 1984 version is that the horror host would shoot a few segments in Salem, Massachusetts. These bits are presented alongside a bunch of other skits the sarcastic horror hosts filmed, fully of the Halloween adjacent schtick you expect from her. Naturally, the rest of the run time are filled out with a bunch of music videos, each one with a vague horror or Halloween theme of some sort. In its last third, Elvira presents a countdown of what she – or, more accurately, MTV's programmers – considered to be their creepiest, strangest music videos. 

If you're a fan of Elvira, you're probably a fan of kitsch. While well-known for her saucy one-liners about her physical appearance, most of the jokes Cassandra Petersen's alter-ego cracks here are of an even cheesier variety. Her interviews with people on the street devolve into very goofy conversations about bad luck and Halloween pranks. As hoary as the material can be, just watching Petersen be her joyfully silly self is a lot of fun. The opening montage of her goofing around Salem, or cracking one-liners while buying random shit from a little shop, simply makes me smile. That's the magic of Petersen's trademark character. She's having so much fun. How can't you have fun too? 

Far funnier are the in-studio skits Elvira stars in. There's some real classics – if you'll excuse my debatable use of the term “classic” –  that I've seen out-of-context many times. A fake commercial for a compilation of “Halloween Carols,” an “Exorcist”-inspired work-out segment, or a mock ad for a Elvira Barbie doll (whose boyfriend is Satan) are all highlights here. Some of the skits are clunkers. Such as an extended parody of The $50,000 Pyramid, that pairs Elvira up with a nun, or a short bit about slipping corny records into trick-or-treat bags. Yet the puns are slung fast enough that a better one is usually right around the corner when one flops. 

“Elvira's Halloween Special” is also valuable as a time capsule of the music video landscape back in 1986. Some of the videos displayed here are amusingly crude. “Plan 9, Channel 7” is simply devoted to The Damned vamping around a cemetery with a Vampira lookalike. “Hollywood Halloween” by Paul Broucek and “Imitators” by Strange Party are basically just documentary footage of Halloween parades and parties. Zero budget goth clips from Bauhaus and Kommunity FK are on display, devoting largely to the eye-shadowed lead singers prancing around spooky locations. Yet there are a few more elaborate clips featured here. Such as Luis Cardena's cover of “Runaway,” which involves a whole band of stop-motion dinosaurs. Or Fred Schneider of the B-52s' utterly ridiculous “Monster in My Pants," which also involves some stop-motion creatures. 

The second half of the special, the countdown, features most of the usual suspects. Alice Cooper, Ozzie Osborne, the Time Warp, and that creepy Lou Reed video with the robot all put in appearances. Yet there are some truly bizarre, deep cuts here. Such as the promotional doo-wop single New World mocked up for “Godzilla 1984” or three separate “Psycho” themed music videos. Probably the best balance of an actual decent song and a cool, spooky music video is X's German Expressionism inspired clip for “Because I Do.” Anyway, it's hard to call “Elvira's Halloween Special” essential viewing. This is obviously a lark, not meant to have any lasting effect outside of its original airing. Yet you've got lots of Halloween vibes, campy old music videos, Elvira looking great and having a great time, and some decent tunes too. Utterly impossible for me not to enjoy all that. [7/10]

The Hound of the Baskervilles (1939)

I hope I don't scandalize anyone when I say that I'm actually not that familiar with Sherlock Holmes. Oh, I watched “The Great Mouse Detective” all the time as a kid and have seen a smattering of other films abut the famous detective. The original writing Arthur Conan Doyle I haven't much sampled yet. Most egregiously, I've never really seen any of the classic Holmes films starring Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce. Of course, Holmes' films are mystery set during the Victorian era, which puts them right next door to Gothic horror. The most famous of Doyle's novel is, naturally, “The Hound of the Baskervilles.” This is also, notably, one of the few Holmes stories that cross over directly into horror. As I always like to include a classic horror film from the thirties or forties today, I put the 1939 “The Hound of the Baskervilles – Rathbone and Bruce's debut in their most iconic roles – on the agenda. 

Sir Charles Baskerville dies while being chased across the ancestral moors of his family. The death is blamed on the legendary hell hound, who has supposedly haunted the family for two hundred years. The heir to the Baskerville estate, Sir Henry, arrives in Devonshire. This prompts his friend, Dr. James Mortimer, to go to esteemed detective Sherlock Holmes and his partner, Dr. Watson. A number of strange things have befallen Henry since his arrival, such as his boots vanishing, strange howling outside, and sighting of a raggedy man on the moors. Watson and, soon afterwards, Holmes arrive to investigate, deducing that a conspiracy is about to murder Sir Henry. The question remains though: Is the Hound of the Baskerville real? 

Rathbone and Bruce's portrayals of Holmes and Watson would, for decades, define the public vision of these characters. Nowadays, I think that's changed. The interpretations of Holmes favored by Benedict Cumberbatch and Robert Downey Jr – that emphasizes his eccentricity and even make him ambiguously neurodivergent – has taken hold. To go back to the 1939 “Baskervilles,” you see a Holmes with more dignity than that. Rathbone's Holmes is unfailingly brilliant, always working on unraveling mysteries and looking for clues. This is probably a side-effect of these older movies having short run times but it gives the impression of a Holmes with no time for anything else. He's a man of action, always rushing onward to the next adventure to occupy his brilliant mind. Rathbone does give Sherlock some quirks, such as his fondness for the violin or how he fools Watson with a wild disguise. (Not to mention an easily missed line referencing Holmes' cocaine use.) Yet Rathbone's Holmes is characterized by his genius and flair, not his social awkwardness. Bruce's Watson would involve into a buffoon but, in this first movie, he's more of a totally competent foil for Sherlock to bounce his observations off of.

While reviewing “Lake of the Dead” yesterday, I pointed out the theme of logic coming into conflict with legends. This is nothing new for the mystery genre and summed up by “The Hound of the Baskervilles.” Doyle drew from classical English stories of demonic black dogs for inspiration. The legend of the Hound has a powerful hold on the Baskervilles' family. Even the otherwise logical characters, like Lionel Atwill's Dr. Mortimer, are fearful of it. The film's villain uses this fear to execute his ploy, hoping all the deaths will be blamed on the otherworldly dog. Holmes, obviously, is driven by his skills of deductive reasoning. He is, in other words, in direct opposition to a belief in the supernatural. “Hound of the Baskervilles” butters up its story with Gothic tropes, yet the Gothic genre is ultimately characterized by a sense of the fantastic, of the dream logic of the subconscious mind intruding on the waking world. This is the opposite, a tale of facts and reason triumphing over superstition. 

Despite this clear distinction, “The Hound of the Baskervilles” is shot like a horror movie. Its opening titles play over footage of the fog-strewn moors, before coming to the ominous family manor. There's so much mist in this movie, not to mention some cool shots of shadows growing large against a wall. The silent criminal lurking in the shrouded countryside feels right out of a Universal Monsters movie. This fulfills my hunger for classic horror atmosphere in a big way. Director Sidney Lanfield doesn't back away from generating scares either. The opening scene, of Sir Charles being stalked, is genuinely eerie. The flashback to the hound's mythological origins plays up the shadowy ambiance as well. This adaptation even tosses in an atmospheric séance sequence, an invention of the film. As the film draws closer to revealing the truth, it shows us more of the hound, proving it to be an ordinary dog. This is a clever device, though a ferocious dog is really no less scary than a ravenous hell hound would be anyway. The horror connection is more than confirmed by the time a foggy cemetery puts in an appearance in the penultimate chase.

Perhaps the strangest thing about 1939's “The Hound of the Baskervilles” is that Holmes isn't in most of it. 20th Century Fox feared that Basil Rathbone wasn't a big enough star to anchor the film. Instead, they cast established star Richard Greene as Sir Henry, who gets top billing. Greene is a typical romantic lead of the time. As a mystery – even if you don't know the story already – it's fairly obvious to guess who “Hound of the Baskervilles'” mastermind will turn out to be. Red herrings like Lionel Atwill's doctor, John Carradine as a shifty butler, or a loudmouthed Scottish neighbor are too obvious. Despite these short-comings, and a somewhat slow pace, “The Hound of the Baskervilles” is a strong effort. Rathbone and Bruce's immediate chemistry and lots of spooky vibes solidifies this as a classic version of a beloved novel. [7/10]

The Neanderthal Man (1953)

Maybe I'm remember everything wrong but, I seem to recall during my childhood, that the caveman was regarded as one of the classic Halloween monsters. I have a distinct memory of a crude wax museum that stood a statue of a neanderthal right next to Frankenstein, Dracula, and a mummy. It's possible my young brain placed a lot more importance on this minor detail than anyone else did. Either way, there are a handful of horror movies about our more primitive ancestors. Five years before Universal's better known “Monster on the Campus,” United Artists released a film with a near identical premise. That would be “The Neanderthal Man,” which is at least well liked enough among schlock film fans to get an edition from Scream Factory. 

Dr. Cliffton Groves is an anthropologist that believes modern man is closely related to his ape-like ancestors, owning to the similarities in their brain size. He has developed a potion to help prove his theory. When a common house cat is drugged, it devolves into a sabretooth tiger. Groves then tests the concoctions on himself. This causes him to transform into an ape-like neanderthal. Freed of human morality, he seeks vengeance on those that have wronged him. His wife, Jan, soon notices that something is amiss with her husband. Attracted by stories of a sabretooth tiger, Dr. Ross Harkness investigates as well.

One of the great clichés of classic sci-fi and horror films is the mad scientist, who rages at the world who rejects him, usually in an overwrought monologue where he explains his grievances and master plan. “The Neanderthal Man” features a completely unironic deployment of this very stereotype. Dr. Groves' colleagues laugh at his theories. Later that evening, he goes on a rant to his wife about how he's going to prove them all wrong. This is just the film's most blatant display for veteran character actor Robert Shayne's theatrical talent. Shayne spends the entire movie in a grouchy mood, exerting his intellectual superiority whenever he can and often getting into petty arguments with people. Shayne is clearly enjoying this chance to ham it up and his performance is the most delightful thing about “The Neanderthal Man.” 

As a creature feature, “The Neanderthal Man” is a typical monster-on-the-loose B-movie. Much like “Monster on the Campus,” the caveman monster wears a buttoned-down shirt and even knows how to operate a window latch at one point. While that later film had Bud Westmore doing the special effects, this one clearly didn't have those kind of resources. The monster make-up in “The Neanderthal Man” is quite lumpy. The ape-man's facial features protrude in an exaggerated way, while looking rather rubbery. Shayne's monstrous revenge mostly amounts to him sneaking up on people and wrestling them to the ground. Probably the best example of this is the climatic struggle with a sabretooth tiger, during which the stuntman obviously does get up close and personal with a real big cat. 

In just about every way, “Neanderthal Man” is an average B-movie of its period. Richard Crane's hero is a totally dull wet blanket. E.A. Dupont's direction is lacking in distinction, resulting in a largely bland looking movie. The film even ends with that rugged ol' chest nut, about how man shouldn't meddle in God's domain. Yet “The Neanderthal Man” does have a few quirky touches that make it worth checking out. Aside from Shayne's amusingly hammy performance, the supporting cast is filled out with some oddballs. There's a Texan barkeeper, who talks almost exclusively in cowboy style aphorisms. Even after being thrashed about by the caveman. Also among the Neanderthal Man's attempted victims is a swimsuit model, the kind of moment you'd expect to see in later, more exploitative movies. 

In other words, “The Neanderthal Man” is either a totally stock-parts, unremarkable monster flick that doesn't deserved to be remembered for much. Or, alternatively, it's exactly the kind of cozy, B-movie junk food I crave on Halloween. On the rather brief list of caveman adjacent horror movies, it's probably won't top anyone's ranking. Yet I know how to have fun with trash like this. Plus there's a hilarious shot of a stuffed tiger's face as it attacks a passing motorist. Where else are you going to see insanity like that but in a motion picture of this caliber? [7/10]

Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny & Girly (1970)

Freddie Francis was one of the great cinematographers of British cinema. He made films like “The Innocents” and “The Elephant Man” look stunningly gorgeous. He even won Oscars, for photographing "Sons & Lovers" and "Glory." Of course, Francis was also a director, working largely in the horror genre throughout the sixties and seventies. Francis directed some of the best and moodiest looking films for Hammer and Amicus, such as “Dracula Has Risen from His Grave” and “Dr. Terror's House of Horrors.” For the first decade of his career, Francis operated as a hired gun. As the seventies dawned, he got a chance to develop a film he'd have complete creative control over. Throughout his career at Hammer, Francis had shot outside Oakley Court several times but never shot inside it. He developed a film specifically around the stately manor, which took the form of “Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny & Girly.” The title abbreviated simply to “Girly” for its U.S. release, the oddball movie has acquired a cult following in the years since. 

In a secluded part of London, a peculiar family resides in a grand old hall. Each of the four residents assume a role from a traditional family unit, as part of what they call The Game. Mumsy is the perfectly proper mother. Nanny is the always sweet and patient nanny. Teenagers Sonny and Girly are locked totally in a state of arrested development, acting as overgrown kids and speaking in childish rhymes. It's Girly and Sonny's job to go out into public and recruit new people into the family, who are introduced as “New Friend.” When the new member disobeys the rules or displeases the family, they are executed in elaborate rituals. One night, Girly brings a male swinger back to the grand old hall. After the teens murder his female companion, they convince him he did it and blackmail the man with this information. “New Friend” is incorporated into the Game. Soon, the sexually hungry male begins to disrupt the delicate balance of the home. 

Much like Jack Hill's “Spider Baby,” “Girly” acts as a perverse parody of the traditional nuclear family. The characters let their archetypal roles in the family completely consume their personalities. Mumsy is always the ideal British mother, stern but loving. Sonny is always the bratty, rambunctious little brother, who only cares about playing games and tattle-tailing. Girly, meanwhile, acts all the world like an innocent little girl, spouting off sing-song-y rhymes when it suits her and cuddling up with baby dolls. This contrasts, obviously, with their more psychotic behavior. The quartet gathers around a screening of a snuff film, like it's a wholesome family movie. When Girly snaps and murders someone, all Mumsy cares about is that that she broke her little drummer boy statue. When a decapitated head is discovered boiling in a pot, the reaction is similarly nonplussed. By maintaining the perfect exterior of a charming family at all times, no matter how extreme the circumstances, “Girly” shows how strangling these roles are to begin with.

The roles the family assume all exclude the possibility of sex. Girly and Sonny are children, acting much younger than their teenage years. Mumsy and Nanny are matronly old women without husbands. And this household is a strictly heteronormative world. The presence of the New Friend — who is meant to be a sexually vivacious swinger but looks like Captain Kangaroo — disrupts this sexless realm. All the women want him. Mumsy spends the night with him, making Nanny jealous. He's mostly set his eyes on Girly though. Through the lens of modern sexual politics, "Girly" is definitely a bit sketchy. Girly, the character, is a teenager, acts like a little child, and is played by 22 year old Vanessa Howard. The film rarely misses a chance to eroticize her, dressing her in a litany of mini-skirts and glaring at her body. It's uncomfortable, even more-so when you see an adult actress acting like a child in this role. Yet the fucked-up sexual politics of "Girly" are fascinating to experience. New Friend — a horny little bastard who possesses a cold cunning despite mostly thinking with his penis —urges Girly into the world of sexuality and it disrupts the equilibrium of the household. Lust has a way of doing that. 

Ultimately, "Girly" plays a lot like a very British version of a depraved, backwoods family story. This group exists in their own twisted world, with it's own rules, and all outsiders can do is observe and try and survive. This makes "Girly" quite an effective horror film, when it's not being skeezy or darkly humorous. Furthering this uncomfortable mood of tension, where you never know what these lunatics might do, are some very effective performances. When Girly goes into her sudden, violent rages, Vanessa Howard is genuinely frightening. She is totally unpredictable, mewing sex kitten one minute, giggling child the next, shrieking murderess after that. Meanwhile, Ursula Howells displays a sense of ultimate control as Mumsy. If Girly is unstable, everyone else in the house never breaks character. Pat Heywood and Howard Trevor are both totally believable as a sweetness-and-sunshine nanny and an obnoxious little brother. 

If "Girly" has a major flaw, it's that the closest thing the story has to a hero is a sleazy, self-interested horn dog. Yet spending some time in this very fucked-up household is an experience. Trying to unravel the psychology behind these disturbed characters, and figure out what they'll do next, makes the film a captivating watch. "Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny and Girly" wouldn't connect with audiences in England. Vanessa Howard would retire from acting and Freddie Francis went right back to gothic horror, directing "Tales from the Crypt" and "The Creeping Flesh" shortly afterwards. However, in America, it was sold as a grimy exploitation movie and made a tidy profit. This must've surely pleased Francis, who considered it the favorite of his films. [7/10]

Visiting Hour (1982)

Slasher movies were not often classy affairs. Usually, they were low-budget, exploitation pictures made cheaply and quickly to cash-in on cinematic fads. They are films of the flesh and blood, not of the mind. If they ever had stars in them, it was some washed-up character actor, stopping in for a day or two of shooting so producers had a recognizable name to slap on the poster. However, during the early eighties tidal wave of stalk-and-slash flicks, occasionally one would emerge that took inspiration more from Carpenter and Hitchcock than Sean S. Cunningham. Sometimes, they would even get an iconic actress, like Lauren Bacall or Angie Dickinson, in them. One such example is “Visiting Hours,” which roped Oscar-winner Lee Grant into a starring role. Québécois Jean-Claude Lord was clearly going for something more than cheap thrills. Critics still dismissed it as sexist and just another slasher film in 1982, the British even banning it.

Women's advocate and television personality Deborah Ballin goes on a talk show to defend a woman who killed her abusive husband in self-defense. This incurs the rage of violent misogynist Colt Hawker. He tracks her down at her home and attacks her. The injuries send Deborah to a near-by hospital. The event becomes a major news story, attracting much media attention. But Hawker is still out there, plotting to finish the job. He terrorizes the nurses working to protect Deborah, slowly working his way through the hospital back to her. 

"Visiting Hours" foregoes the masked, silent maniac approach that most slasher films utilize. Instead, Colt Hawker is given quite a lot of backstory. We learn that watching his battered mother paralyze his father is the Freudian origins of his compulsive hatred of women. He's also characterized as a sexual sadist, using violence against women as a replacement for sex. Yet these Norman Bates-like details are not the most effective aspects of "Visiting Hours." Instead, Colt is terrifying simply because he's played by Michael Ironside at his most intense. Frequently sweaty, always wide-eyed, and often semi-nude or dressed in leather, Ironside makes Hawker a man of pure rage and hatred. He is usually seen gripping a stress ball, an example of how he barely contains his rage throughout the day. A sequence where he brutally injures himself, slamming his forearm into broken glass, just to gain admittance to the hospital is a good example of how frighteningly direct his habits are. Ironside spends the entire movie glaring ahead, an expression of disgust or single-minded anger on his face. If you ran into this guy in real life, you would immediately get as far away from him as possible. Ironside radiates threatening vibes every minute he's on-screen, which gives "Visiting Hours" way more malevolent energy than your usual slasher flick. 

What makes Hawker even scarier is that he's an all-too-plausible villain too. Despite his obvious psycho aura, Ironside is both an unassuming and somewhat handsome man. You can understand how he could go through normal, everyday life without setting anyone off. Or how he could even charm a woman into coming back to his apartment. That actually happens. The New Wave girl comments that his wall is covered with letters decrying women, blacks, Jews, and Latinos. She asks "Do you want the whole world to yourself?" To which he replies, deadpan, "Yeah." In our modern world of incel mass shooters and the internet radicalizing young men into organized white supremacists, Colt Hawker is all too plausible a character. Honestly, an outspoken woman speaking on a screen about feminism, enraging a violent loner into stalking her, is far more common now than in 1982. You could remake this movie and have the Deborah character be a YouTube commentator and it would actually make more sense. 

The question remains though: Is "Visiting Hours" invoking such common place real world horrors in service of a few thrills worth it? The scene where Hawker assaults the girl in his apartment, running a knife blade along her exposed thighs, definitely feels like something out of a sleazier movie. Yet I think "Visiting Hours" criticism of misogyny is otherwise sincere. Deborah's fears are taken very seriously and much of the film is devoted to depicting her panic. William Shatner appears as her agent/love interest, operating as the patronizing voice of male authority, the kind of establishment sexism that isn't as vicious as the Colt Hawkers of the world but is no less damaging. The other female characters in the film are similarly detailed, their personalities and home lives expanded on. The final moments could be right out of "Men, Women, and Chainsaw," with the heroine using the villain's phallic weapon - a switchblade knife, which pops up like a surprise erection - against him. The approach is sometimes tacky to modern eyes but that's probably to be expected from a movie made forty years ago. 

Aside from all of that, "Visiting Hours" functions largely as a very intense thriller. The focus is definitely more on sustained suspense than blood and gore. The film generates eerie tension out of many long sequences, simply devoted to character slowly approaching danger. Such as the head nurse heading home, unknowingly being observed, or Colt standing over an old woman's bed in the hospital. If anything, "Visiting Hours" peaks a little early, during a fantastically orchestrated scene where Hawker attacks the nurse in her own home. The last act, where Hawker is finally chasing Deborah through the interior of the hospital, aren't quite as tense as that moment. Overall, the film has a patience and an ability to generate suspense that you don't normally see in films of this type. 

"Visiting Hours" strikes me as an underrated gem of the first wave of North American slasher films. Its cast is extremely well utilized, Grant, Ironside, and Shatner all being cast perfectly to type. The suspense is there, carried by some strong direction, and the movie is a lot smarter and more observant than was certainly necessary. Maybe the hospital setting, promised by the title, could have been a little heavier feature. We've still got "Halloween II" and "X-Ray," if that's what you're after. "Visiting Hours" is a good example of a film that was shit on by the mainstream critical press, gripped by a moral panic around gory horror films, that would probably be well reviewed if released today. I'm glad we've learned to appreciate well done, meat-and-potatoes genre films like this now. [8/10]

Dark Harvest (2023)

I remember when it was first announced that David Slade was going to be directing an adaptation of Norman Partridge's novel, “Dark Harvest.” Slade is an inconsistent talent but he also made “Hard Candy,” one of my favorite films, so his name gets my attention. Partridge's novel, meanwhile, is a monster story set on Halloween, which definitely got my attention. All of this was before the pandemic, which is probably why it seems like a decade ago. Even after “Dark Harvest” was finally filmed, the movie had the misfortune of being an MGM production right as that studio was acquired by Amazon. This led to the film sitting on a shelf for nearly two years. “Dark Harvest” finally got a theatrical release earlier this month, a one-night only screening exclusive to Alamo Drafthouses. This was presumably to fulfil some sort of contractual obligation, before the movie was dumped on digital with little promotion. I hate when promising films get buried because of studio mix-ups. I like to wrap up the Halloween Horror-fest with a new release actually set on October 31st, which made “Dark Harvest” a natural choice for the closing title this season.

An unassuming small town has a disturbing ritual they call the Halloween Run. Every October 31st, a pumpkin-headed monster named Sawtooth Jack rises from the cornfield. The teen boys of the town are tasked with killing Sawtooth Jack before he reaches the community church. If they fail, misfortune will befall the town. If they succeed, a bountiful harvest follows and the winner gets a shiny Corvette. In 1962, Jim Shepherd killed the beast. The next year, his juvenile delinquent little brother Richie hopes to repeat his success. Yet, after befriending a young black girl named Kelly, Richie begins to question this tradition. He soon discovers that the Harvester Guild, the council that runs the town, hides a dark secret and that Sawtooth Jack is more than he appears to be.

I'd wager it's likely that Partridge's novel was at least partially inspired by Shirley Jackson's “The Lottery.” Much like that classic, “Dark Harvest” transposes the ancient ritual of human sacrifice into a midwestern small town. That it's always young men who must fight Sawtooth Jack, the elders of the town sending boys on the verge of adulthood to die, the blood of the young insuring the growth of the crops, brings all sorts of pagan rites to mind. Slade's films goes even further by contrasting this folkloric custom with small town Americana. Setting “Dark Harvest” in the sixties allows for all sorts of classically American sights – jocks in letterman jackets, teenage greasers, vintage cars, an old movie theater and, yes, hellraising youths on Halloween night – to co-exist alongside this macabre tradition. Just as Jackson pointed out, contrasting what we think of as modern American life with blood rituals to ensure a healthy harvest is both a disturbing parallel and suggests we really haven't come so far from those days after all.

Life in this small town seems to revolve around the annual Halloween Run, which is where the film's most obvious but most interesting point emerges. As soon as the sheriff – played by Luke Kirby doing a very odd vocal inflection – ramps up a high school gymnasium full of kids for the contest, it's clear that this ritual serves as a system of control over the town's youth by those in power. If you want to be a good citizen of this town, you do not question the logic of murdering a pumpkin monster every October. Those that question this assumption are shouted down, mocked, or called slurs. Just in case this was too subtle for the viewer, the protagonist also gets involved in an interracial romance in 1963, which is naturally poorly received by his peers. It's all a big metaphor for the restrictive nature of society, how rules and social pressures meld us into a good little conformists that never question the status quo. This all becomes more apparent the more we learn about Sawtooth Jack.

It's possible that “Dark Harvest's” monster movie metaphor only goes so far. Once Sawtooth Jack emerges from the cornfield and goes on his annual rampage, this becomes a straight-ahead enough creature feature. The pumpkin headed entity is brought to life through a clever mixture of practical effects and CGI, bringing the visual of a Jack-O-Lantern topped scarecrow to mind while appearing to be something far fleshier up close. Sometimes his head glows too, which is also pretty cool. Much bloody carnage ensues, as the monster literally rips people apart in various ways. By the time the confrontation between the hero and the creature arrives, you understand what a threat he is. David Slade's direction, as it did in “30 Days of Night,” sometimes veers too much towards the shaky. However, he knows when to focus in.

I'm a simple man. If you promise me a movie where a cool looking beastie tears folks to shreds and then deliver on that, I'm satisfied. “Dark Harvest” could probably lay on the autumnal atmosphere a little more. Some pumpkins on people's stoops, Halloween masks, and a key role for candy is about the extend of the October 31st trappings here. But I'm not going to complain too much. The script has a fun concept and enough layers to give me something to chew on. It's executed with a degree of style and competency to hit the mark. The surf rock soundtrack features Baron Daemon. I really wish “Dark Harvest” hadn't gotten buried, as I totally think horror fans would've made this a cult classic. Lost on streaming, I'm doubtful it'll ever find an audience. But watched late at night on October 31st, when my belly is full of Halloween candy? Yep, this satisfies for sure. [7/10]

When you spent all of October and most of September writing about horror movies, it doesn't make the night of the 31st that special. Was this Halloween really that different from any of the other ones? And I guess not. Was this season all that different from previous ones? The truth is it really wasn't. Just like always, I got behind schedule and had to do some last minute shuffling to get every day in. Still, I enjoyed it. 

Ya know, I can't help but get spiritual about Halloween. It's a lot more than just a holiday to me. More than just an excuse to indulge my love of horror. It's the time when my heart comes alive, when I feel young again, like it's the first time every year. Since the Halloween Horror-Fest Blog-A-Thon is the main thing I do during these spooky weeks, it has become an important part of the most important time of the year for me. Staying up until dawn, watching and writing about spooky bullshit, feels like the best way to bid one half of the year goodbye and welcome the next. Halloween leaves me exhausted but renewed as well. Like a vampire drifting back to its tomb, with a belly full of virgin blood, I am ready to sleep. I am also ready to face the next full moon, my meter refilled for another year. Goodnight, Halloween. Good morning, November 1st. Same time next year? Absolutely.