Halloween 2024: September 1st

Alraune (1928)

If you've played a Japanese fantasy video game or table top game, you might have encountered a creature known as an Alraune. It is almost always a plant creature, usually taking the form of a seductive woman. The Alraune has become one of the stock monsters in the fantasy genre but its origins are a little more complicated than that. In 1911, Hanns Heinz Ewers would write “Alraune,” a novel inspired by the legend of the Mandrake. The book was immediately popular and would be adapted to film by 1918. That version is lost by a second adaptation made ten years later is readily available. Directed by Henrik Galeen, this “Alraune” is notable for starring icons of German Expressionistic cinema Brigitte Helm and Paul Wegener. 

Legend has it that the Mandrake root grows from the final seed of a hanged man, expelled at the time of death. The root is associated with multiple magical properties. Inspired by this story, Professor Jakob ten Brinken sets out to create an artificial lifeform. He inseminates a prostitute with the sperm of a dead man. The resulting child is named Alraune, the professor raising her as his daughter. She grows up to be an amoral woman, showing no fear and seeking out men to use as she sees fit. After she runs away to join the circus, the professor hunts down Alraune. While seeking to marry a wealthy viscount, she discovers the fantastical truth of her origin. Alraune seeks revenge on her “father.”

“Alraune's” premise seems to raise a question of nature versus nurture. Alraune is conceived not through an intimate act of physical love between two people but as a cold, scientific experiment. This results in a woman without a soul. She shows no fear of animals, manipulates all the men around her, and seems incapable of forming meaningful relationships. The Professor assigns this behavior to her genetic origin, Alraune inheriting the low-status of her parents. Yet ten Brinken seems to be a shitty dad to me. He ships his daughter off to a convent and never interacts with her until after she leaves. Later, when she concocts a plan to seduce him as an incestuous form of revenge, the Professor seems rather willing to play along. 

Despite these themes, “Alraune” never entertains the idea that the titular female's behavior isn't the result of her heritage. Alraune does indeed act mildly sociopathic through most of the film. The Professor is presented as unethical, even before he goes to bed with his own daughter. Yet Alraune's behavior and the Professor's attitude towards her are never connected. It's not until the very end of the movie that “Alraune” suggests that ten Brinken bears some responsibility for her behavior. Even then, his distant style of parenting and her coldness are never truly linked. I guess the psychological theories of parenthood, and the effects that it can have on the people children grow up to be, where not in the zeitgeist in 1928.

“Alraune” begins with the morbid image of a dead man hanging from the gallows, blowing in the night wind. The film is rarely that atmospheric again. For most of its runtime, “Alraune” is an odd melodrama of sorts. We see Alraune trade one man for another, cycling through a young boyfriend, a circus magician, and a lion tamer all over the course of a few scenes. It's not until she discovers the Professor's journal, detailing her unusual birth, that “Alraune” bends towards horror again. The sequence of her shadow cast on a wall, and then creeping over her father's sleeping form, is genuinely eerie. The idea of a daughter willfully seducing her own dad, even if they aren't related by blood, is certainly very creepy too. “Alraune's” ending reveals that the intent is obviously to raise questions and not to horrify, meaning this bit of German Expressionism never quite graduates to full-blown horror. 

However, the film still has Brigitte Helm in its corner. Having already played “Metropolis'” Maria at this point, Helm was experienced at playing inhuman femme fatales. A sequence where she blows smoke into the face of a roaring lion, and later stares down the ferocious felines without a single movement, shows the power the character projects. The scene where Alraune seduces the Professor are built entirely upon Helm's magnetic eyes, which perfectly convey both the sensuality and cruel intelligence needed for such a moment. Paul Wegener plays the Professor as a man convinced of his own brilliance. As the story goes on, and the control he has over his “experiment” slips, is when he starts to grow more unhinged. 

If my opinion of “Alraune” is less than stellar, that probably has a lot to do with the quality of the available prints. The full runtime is usually listed as 108 minutes, with some sources suggesting a true runtime closer to two hours. The public domain prints freely available online max out at 97 minutes. It's clear that quite a lot has been cut. Alraune's various suitors come and go with little explanation or set-up, the Viscount being especially undeveloped. The cut I saw also edits around the woman's origin, making it seem like the Professor inseminated her mother with the Mandrake root itself. A print of the complete version does exist and has screened at festival but, as far as I can tell, has never been released on disc. In its current form, “Alraune” is an interesting and occasionally atmospheric film that never quite lives up to the potential of the ideas contained within. [6/10]

War of the Colossal Beast (1958)

In 1957 and 1958, Bert I. Gordon managed to direct six separate movies, an impressive output that certainly traded quality for quantity at times. Gordon would make 17 more movies in the years afterwards, so he slowed only by comparison. In all that time, Mr. B.I.G. would only direct one sequel. While he was more than happy to capitalize on other trends, it seems riding the coattails of his own success was rarely a prerogative. The exception of this rule is “War of the Colossal Beast,” a sequel to Gordon's “The Amazing Colossal Man” released in the back-half of that two year boom period. Despite being a direct sequel to perhaps Gordon's most iconic film, A.I.P. did not market the film as a follow-up. The philosophy in the fifties seems to be that audiences wanted new stuff, I guess. These days, “War of the Colossal Beast” is usually presented alongside its prequel. Since I watched that one on the first day of the Blog-a-Thon two years ago, I figure it's time I check this one out too.

After taking a dive off the Hoover Dam, Col. Glenn Manning – otherwise known as the Amazing Colossal Man – is presumed dead. His sister, Joyce, holds out hope that he might still be alive, as a giant sized body was never discovered. In Mexico, news of food trucks disappearing are reported. When Joyce uncovers enormous foot prints at the crash site, she knows her brother is still alive. She convinces Army Major Mark Baird to help find him and they soon discover Glenn, now brutally deformed and totally mad. The army captures the colossus and takes him back to Los Angeles. Keeping an Amazing Colossal Man in chains proves tricky, however, and Glenn soon escapes to rampages once again.

Despite a title that emphasizes action, most of "War of the Colossal Beast" is amusingly focused on the bureaucracy of keeping a giant, mutant man in captivity. To give you an example of this, there's a scene where the heroes debate where they can keep this giant man. Major Baird suggests a large, currently unoccupied air hanger and another official spits out that this is a busy airport and surely that hanger will be needed for planes soon. A lot of the movie is like that. It's all played completely straight and almost reaches the level of absurd comedy, never quite getting there. The military doesn't want to destroy Manning, as that seems cruel. Joyce holds out hope for a way to return to Glenn to normal, though that seems increasingly improbable. With no other options, they just keep him doped up and in chains. This makes "War of the Colossal Beast" a film that largely leaves the audience waiting for the monster to get loose and actually do something. 

For those patient enough to wait through these dryer scenes, you probably won't be satisfied with the pay-off. Bert I. Gordon movies are not known for their convincing special effects. It must be said that the photography effects used to portray a giant man here are slightly more convincing than the laughable efforts in the original. Possibly to disguise the fact that he's played by a different actor, the giant now has a hideously deformed face, the empty eye socket of his skull showing through on the left side of his head. (This makes the Colossal Beast look a lot like the titular monster from Gordon's "The Cyclops." In fact, both behemoths were played by the same actor, stuntman Duncan "Dean" Parkin.) It's a likably grotesque make-up but, sadly, this Beast never does much. He picks up a truck like it's a toy and scarfs the bread inside. He wanders around the airport for a minute before the army blasts him with a sleeping gas bazooka. When he gets loose at the end, he never actually rampages through LA. The memorable image on the poster, of the giant lifting a bus above his head, does occur... But Joyce convinces Glenn to gently put it back down, about as underwhelming a pay-off to that moment as you could get. Some tanks and heavy artillery are rolled out to stop Manning but we never quite get the war promised in the title. 

"The Amazing Colossal Man" was made to cash-in on "The Incredible Shrinking Man." It obviously fell far short of that classic but the original did make an attempt to replicate that movie's pathos. Glenn was psychologically torn up by his size increasing condition, his growing madness resulting in some campy laughs. Since the sequel reduces Manning to a shambling, groaning monster with a fucked-up face, there's none of that here. The film's melodrama instead arises from Joyce's naïve attempts to reach her brother's inner humanity. She finally succeeds in the final scene, resulting in the movie's only real attempt at pathos. Presumably dismayed at his monsterhood, Glenn bids his sister farewell and then takes his own life by grabbing the electrical lines outside the Griffith Observatory. To make this shock more keenly felt by the audience, Gordon switches to color for this final moment. "I Was a Teenage Frankenstein" did the same trick the year before and, I'm sad to say, it was more effective there. 

Yes, "War of the Colossal Beast" is one of those fifties creature features where not a whole lot actually happens. You expect Joyce and Major Baird to form some sort of relationship but it never arises. The monster spends most of the runtime strapped down and his eventual rampage is disappointingly low on mayhem. You get the impression that screenwriter George Worthing Yates didn't actually have that many ideas for a sequel. The result is one of the duller films of Gordon's career, lacking the campy, schlocky laughs that characterize his "better" movies. As you'd expect from a quickie, cash-in sequel, there's an extensive flashback to the first movie's events. Maybe that's why A.I.P. sought to disguise the fact that this was a sequel. Maybe audiences would feel less ripped-off if they weren't aware that the stock footage, which contains almost all the movie's urban destruction, was recycled. Despite "War of the Colossal Beast's" lackluster quality, Glenn Manning's horrific visage would become a monster kid classic and has been featured on numerous model kits over the years, so that's neat. [5/10]

Sole Survivor (1984)

In the crowded genre marketplace of the early eighties, any promising filmmaker was lucky to make one movie that would go on to become beloved by horror fans. By some whim of fate, Thom Eberhardt directed two such films. By an even greater whim, both of them came out in 1984. In November of that year, Eberhardt's second feature – “Night of the Comet” – would be released, eventually becoming a beloved cult classics. Eight months before that, Eberhardt's debut, “Sole Survivor,” was released. Pretty impressive for a guy whose only previous credit was an educational short about stranger danger. While not as popular as “Comet,” “Sole Survivor” has garnered a bit of a following of its own. I've somehow never caught up with the flick before and day one of the Horror-fest seems ideal.

Commercial producer Denise Watson receives a disturbing phone call from actress Karla Davis. She claims to have had a prophetic dream that Denise is going to be in a plane crash. Denise dismisses these fears but they come to pass, Denise being the only survivor in a tragic wreck that kills everyone else on board. She tries to get on with her normal life, even beginning a romance with her doctor, Brian. Yet Denise can't escape this feeling that someone is after her. Soon, she begins to see quiet, eerie people in the distance. This is only the beginning, as these spectres – seemingly the other passengers that died on the plane – begin to pursue her more and more.

The opening shots of “Sole Survivor” are devoted to medium shots of a mundane locations, like a bus stop, in the middle of the night. This establishes a sense of eerie stillness that permeates throughout the rest of the film. This is most apparent in the central antagonists of the film. The ghostly entities don't speak. Often, they don't even move. Usually, they just stand still a whiles away from Denise, watching her. Sometimes they are pale, or barring subtle indicators of their deaths, but usually these apparitions just look like any normal person you'd see on the street. This taps into an everyday kind of creepiness that goes a long way.  It's the sort of uncanny incident that anyone can relate to, that is easily dismissed, but becomes increasingly disturbing the more it occurs.

Yet these undead watches do more than just stare. In one of “Sole Survivor's” creepiest scenes, a man in a jacket relentlessly pursues Denise through a parking garage. Much like Michael Myers before him, his movements are slow but deliberate. This points towards the most distressing thematic thread of the film. All throughout, Denise is gripped by survivor's guilt. She doesn't understand why she lived while others died. Moreover, the feeling is unavoidable that her surviving was only delaying the inevitable. And this is true of all of us, isn't it? Death has no need to run because it's going to catch everyone eventually. “Sole Survivor” taps into that unmissable conclusion that haunts everyone. 

“Sole Survivor” was the second, and last, screen appearance of Anita Skinner, after a supporting role in Claudia Weill's “Girlfriends.” I can only speculate on why Skinner would retire from acting but it's not because of talent. Skinner does a good job of portraying Denise as someone in denial about what's going on. She puts on a shield of normalcy but it only barely covers the panic she feels beneath. It's a strong performance, even if Skinner's portrayal of someone's coldness makes her tricky to relate at times. The way she's rude to Karla, played by a nicely uncomfortable Caren Larkey, makes her a bit unlikable. This is especially true of the romance with Kurt Johnson's Brian, a subplot that never comes to life. In fact, most of the movie's supporting characters – such as Denise's next door neighbor and her friends – seems a bit unnecessary. 

Ultimately, “Sole Survivor” never quite tops the spookiness of that parking garage sequence. One certified chiller is more than a lot of horror movies have, so “Sole Survivor” should still be applauded. Even if it comes off as only fulfilling some of its potential. The movie was obviously influenced by “Carnival of Souls,” in its plot and the deliberate approach of its villains. In turn, the film is a likely inspiration for both “Final Destination” and “It Follows.” Still, Thom Eberhardt clearly had the juice. Despite kicking off his career with horror, he'd spent the next two decades directing comedies, with “Captain Ron” being his most well known later work. He wouldn't get back to the genre until 2007's “Naked Fear,” which honestly sounds pretty sleazy and bad. Still, “Sole Survivor” and “Night of the Comet” make a suitably strong double feature. [7/10]

Beyond the Black Rainbow (2010)

When Panos Cosmatos' "Mandy" came out in 2018, most expected it to play a brief theatrical release, get juiced up by the genre press, and then slip onto VOD and disc, but one of many would-be cult classics that escape into the wild every year. Instead, "Mandy" became a break-out hit for production company SpectreVision, being so successful that it actually stayed in theaters outside its initial bookings. It truly signaled the arrival of Cosmatos as a major new talent, a distinctive voice in a crowded genre marketplace. Yet those paying attention might've picked up on Panos' talent sooner. His debut was 2010's "Beyond the Black Rainbow," an aggressively weird experiment that – like most of the movies Magnet puts out – got a little bit of attention but minimal advertising. The popularity of "Mandy" has caused people to go back to Cosmatos' first movie, making it a bigger deal now than it was in 2010. Time for me to catch up with this one. 

The year is 1983. The place is the Arboria Institute, a new age retreat and research facility. A girl named Elena is kept isolated in a glass cell far below the ground. She displays telepathic powers but they are suppressed by a glowing prism. She is obsessively observed by Dr. Barry Nyle, whose interests are clearly more than scientific. Elena longs to escape the facility, which is full of many strange dangers. Nyle shares a disturbing connection to the institute's past and subdues his uncalm brain with mind-bending drugs. As Elena finally gains the freedom she longs for, he grows more unhinged in his pursuit of her.

His second film solidified it but, even in his debut, Panos Cosmatos shows an immediately obvious stylistic touch. His films take the synthwave aesthetic as far as possible, characterized by pulsating electronic scores and intense, colorful lighting. Reoccurring elements include New Age cults, elaborate underground facilities, enough glowing pyramids to drive an Illumanti believer into a frenzy, and bodily mutations. Oh yeah, and lots of drugs too. Psychedelic substances are ingested, injected, and absorbed in “Beyond the Black Rainbow.” Rooms literally melt around characters and the past and present become indistinct from each other. This is matched by a slow, trance-inducing pace that is clearly patterned after an acid trip. It's clear that “Beyond the Black Rainbow” isn't only about drugs but seeks to induce an altered state within the viewer as well. The expansion of the mind's abilities and consciousness is the goal of the organization within the film. You get the impression that Cosmatos and his co-conspirators are very interested in the same thing.

“Beyond the Black Rainbow” largely achieves this effect through its overwhelming, frequently disturbing visuals. The most stunning sequence in the film is a flashback to Nyle's early days at the Institute. He descends into a black goop in a blindingly white room, which is itself disturbing. This proceeds hellish visuals of screaming faces and melting skulls, one of the more unsettling depictions of Hell I've seen in a movie. That's far from the only shock in the film. Bizarre mutations lurk through the intricate hallways and secret rooms of the Institute. You know a movie is creepy stuff when someone's brains exploding out through their eyeballs ranks among the less unpleasant scares in the movie. The combination of a dream-like pacing, a constantly throbbing soundtrack, and an overwhelming visual design creates a movie tailor-made to freak the viewer. 

While most of “Beyond the Black Rainbow's” disturbing content extends beyond the human mind, some of its horrors are far more earthly. Michael Rogers plays Nyles as a deeply unsettled person. He seems uncomfortable in his own skin from the first minute, drifting through life in a daze. Except when he's studying Elena, whom he seems to have latched onto. A creepy guy having a pseudo-sexual, quasi-romantic obsession with a young woman is standard stuff in the horror genre. Nyles makes for a hell of a villain, especially once he sheds most of his humanity in the last third. This also signals a change in tone in “Beyond the Black Rainbow,” in which the bad guy is stalking people while wielding a knife. His attack on a pair of random stoners is proof of a last minute turn towards slasher theatrics. Which feel a little disappointing after the mind-melting first 90 minutes.

It's tempting to slot Panos Cosmatos' films in with any number of retro-throwback horror indies. Movies that throw in Carpenter-esque scores and other cultural signifiers of the eighties to generate easy nostalgia in genre nerds still stuck on that decade. The setting, music, lighting, and deliberate references to older cult hits all point in this direction. But there's clearly more on the film's expanded mind. Cosmatos has said that the movie emerged out of his grief over his parents' deaths. Nyle's bond with the institute's founder is fatherly in nature. When we learn the true origins of Elena, it suggests children traumatized by abusive parents informs the film. When Ronald Reagan appears on a TV, and how the movie's experiment aroue out of the remains of sixties hippy mysticism, it emerges that “Beyond the Black Rainbow” is commenting on the way boomer idealism curdled into something darker in the eighties. All in all, it's clear that Cosmatos has a much more complicated relationship with eighties nostalgia than most of the filmmakers working in these tropes. 

You can argue about the film's originality all you want. “Buckaroo Bonzai” is quoted in the end credits and “Begotten” was a clear inspiration. The influence Mann, Carpenter, Kubrick, Jodorowsky, Scott, and his dad's own movies had on Cosmatos is undeniable. And you can say that perhaps the director is a one-trick pony. His “Cabinet of Curiosities” episode had a lot in common with this film. Still, I find Cosmatos' intense fascination with these reoccurring ideas interesting. Moreover, the guy is clearly talented at creating an unsettling ambiance and intense visuals. “Mandy” is more fully formed than “Beyond the Black Rainbow” but it is still an impressive and extremely distinctive debut. One imagines watching it late at night, under the influence of some perception expanding substances, would be a suitably mind-blowing experience. [7/10]

Disciples of the Crow (1983)

1977 would see the publication of Stephen King's short story, “Children of the Corn.” It follows a bickering married couple driving through Nebraska, who stumble upon an eerily empty small town. There, they are beset by a cult of murderous children who, in deference to a pagan god living in the cornfields, sacrifice anyone over the age of 18. The story is hassled by its unlikable protagonists but King contrasting Bible Belt fundamentalism with hints of Lovecraftian otherness makes for an occasionally potent punch. The leap from fire and brimstone Christianity to bloodthirsty cult shit isn't far at all. It's also a rather cinematic story, with its zombie movie-like images of hordes of killer kids descending on a vehicle. However, the first film adaptation of this story probably isn't what you think it is. 

In 1983, John Woodrow and Johnny Stevens would adapt the story as part of King's Dollar Baby program. Wherein he grants student filmmakers the film rights to his stories for one dollar, as long as he gets a copy. Most of the Dollar Babies were rarely seen outside the respective universities of their directors. However, a couple have escaped into wider availably, such as “Disciples of the Crow.” The short follows the story fairly closely, even using some of King's dialogue. The location is shifted to Oklahoma, for no particular reason. It changes the ending to something slightly more hopeful, clips out most of the eldritch horror, and adds a prologue that shows a bit of the children turning on their parents. While crows are notably absent in the story, the short gives them a more prominent role without de-emphasizing all that corn much. (Via stabbing implements carved out of corn cobs.)

As far as low budget short films made by young directors go, “Disciples of the Crow” is fairly smooth. It makes the most of the midwestern sun beating down on the cornfields, which provides some nice ambiance. The creepiest aspect of the story, twisting Bible-thumping weirdness into pagan weirdness, is present in a nice scene in the town church. A strangely empty town still makes for a spooky location. The climax, where the weapon wielding youths attack the couple, is fairly well put together. The prominent placement of a Drinky Bird toy and some weaponized corn cobs is a bit goofy. The performances from Eleese Lester and Gabriel Folse as the married couple are somewhat on the ropey side. Considering the likely limited resources available to the crew, this is still an impressive effort. 

By the way, the short film originally had the same title as the King story. Apparently, the distributors of the feature adaptation released the next year insisted they change the title. Honestly, I think “Disciples of the Crow” is a little more evocative than “Children of the Corn.” The creators of this short would not go onto much. Woodward would later direct two TV movies, both about exotic dancers. Still, this one is worth seeking out, I'd say. [7/10]