Halloween 2024: September 21st

The Day After (1983)

With the dawn of the Reagan Presidency came a new era in the Cold War, characterized by a more aggressive foreign policy, a number of proxy-wars in foreign lands, and a lot more saber-rattling between the world superpowers. The public was all too aware of this increase in nuclear anxiety, resulting in a surge of films about the aftermath of a nuclear war between the United States and Russia. The most noteworthy of these releases, in America anyway, was the 1983 television film, "The Day After." The film was a hot topic of conversation for weeks, due to its graphic content and anti-war stance. The movie has been credited with changing Ronald Reagan's opinion on the chances of a nuclear war, an anecdote that has been questioned. In the years since then, "The Day After" has been recalled as both one of the greatest television movies of all time and a dismissed bit of eighties camp. 

The Cold War was long over by the time I first saw the movie. My survivalist nut-job dad still sat me down to watch it with the warning that "All of this could actually happen." Watching in that mindset, and being all of ten years old at the time, unsurprisingly left me upset. I started having nightmares about the end of the world shortly afterwards, that continued for years. Though I had only previously seen the film once, all those years ago, several scenes continue to vividly live in my memory. This is why I'm including "The Day After" in my Halloween Horrorfest Blog-a-Thon, though it's debatable whether the film belongs more to the genre of docudrama than horror. (As we'll discuss soon enough, I think it's easy to argue for its status as horror.) It's time for me to revisit the source of some kindertrauma and see how it holds up through adult eyes. 

Lawrence is a typical small town nestled in the heartland of America, about forty miles south of Kansas City. The families there are involved in everyday dramas: Dr. Oates is dealing with his daughter's decision to leave town. Denise, oldest daughter of a busy farmer named Jim Dahlberg, is planning to marry her boyfriend soon. Billy is a military man stationed at a near-by missile silo. College student Stephen wonders about his future. Meanwhile, tensions rise between the Soviet and U.S. forces in East Berlin. Nobody in Lawrence is prepared when the Cold War gets hot, missiles flying out of the grounds and a nuclear bomb dropping on Kansas City. Soon, the survivors must attempt to carry on, in a ruined world full of sickness, devastation, and death. 

Certain scenes in "The Day After" have lingered in my mind long after I had forgotten most of the other details of the movie. Chief among them is Billy emerging from his hiding space after the bomb drops, wandering a suddenly overcast world and watching with a mixture of horror and astonishment as the fallout comes down like snow. Another is the Dahlbergs, down in their cramped cellar, forced to listen as the family dog cries out overhead. Both of these moments are haunting but the scene that most stuck with me occurs before the bombs are dropped. It's when we visit a grocery store, as news of the situation in Berlin hits the radio, and people start buying anything they can in a panic. That scene hit me hard as a kid, I think, because it was so easy to imagine something similar happening in my small town. But also because of the futility of it. If a nuke dropped on your city, it doesn't matter how many pork chops you have in the freezer. You're screwed. The sheer hopelessness of that feeling, of knowing you are doomed by forces far outside your control, is maybe the element of "The Day After" that makes me feel the most sick to my stomach. 

"The Day After" was directed by Nicholas Meyer, after making "Time After Time" and "Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan." Much like those films, this one continues to show Meyer's talent for contrasting the mundane with the unexpected. The first hour or so of "The Day After" is concerned with establishing its characters in the lead-up to the attack. We become involved in their day-to-day lives, especially in Denise attempting to establish herself as an independent person against her loving but strict father and her normal bickering with her younger siblings. Or Dr. Oates' bond with his wife and own daughter. The threat of nuclear annihilation is always there, floating in the background. We hear and see reports on TV and the radio. It's a good depiction of how normal lives go on in the shadow of international incidents while also building tension for the disaster to come. 

Much of the controversy surrounding "The Day After" in 1983 was based around the fear that its content was too graphic, too disturbing, for a mainstream television broadcast. It's an interesting complaint because, watched now, the special effects seem a little corny. And yet... When the bomb goes off, we are greeted to a fast-paced montage. We see many people, some of whom we've followed in the first half, reduced to bones and dust in seconds. Fire rains down, buildings explode, people are crushed under the debris. The screen is bathed in red as winds of smothering heat sweep across the countryside. It plays out as an assault in the viewer's senses, a disturbing barrage of death and destruction. If the effects are dated, the sheer ferocity with which these images are deployed makes them impactful still. 

The aftermath, from which the film earns its title, most surely rank among some of the grimmest stuff broadcast on American TV in the eighties. Death is everywhere, starved animals laying about. A dead body, rendered completely blackened from burns, juts out of a wretched building. Burns and radiation sickness are ever present, all of the cast slowly succumbing. The infrastructures put in place to keep society going quickly decays, soldiers executing looters right in the streets. An expectant mother hopelessly wonders what the point of bringing a child into the world now is. An especially potent moment has a group gathered in a ruined church, a cross dangling in the air, as the priest desperately attempts to instill some hope. None is to be found. "The Day After" ends on images of death and emptiness. As the final credits roll, we hear a voice calling out from a radio if anyone else is out there. With the chilling implication being that there isn't. The world dies with us. 

As summarily hopeless as "The Day After" is, an important element keeps it from being an act of empty nihilism. Namely, the human factor. Meyer was insistent that no recognizable actors be in the film, though a few of them – Steve Guttenberg, JoBeth Williams, John Lithgow – became stars afterwards. This was clearly an attempt to keep the material as down-to-earth as possible. When the world as we know it has ended, human kindness can prevail sometimes. Billy bonds with a badly burnt man who has lost his ability to speak. The youngest of the Dahlbergs children is blinded by staring at the mushroom cloud. As he recovers in a dingy, underground hospital, he forms a friendship with a doctor there. Jason Robards, Meyer's concession to the network of having one known actor in the film, shows the strain of having to go on in a world that's been destroyed. The lesson to take away from this is, if the world dies in nuclear hellfire, the kindness still matters. 

"The Day After's" commitment to unflinching realism is obviously born out of its purpose of educating the public. The film ends with text explaining that this is actually a toned-down version of what the aftermath of a real nuclear war would be like, which is maybe the most disturbing moment of all. If those stories of Ronald Reagan and various other heads of state being moved by the movie are true – I'm not convinced they necessarily are – than I suppose "The Day After" achieved its goal. In a post-Cold War era, the threat of nuclear annihilation may not be quite so imminent. Yet "The Day After" remains as a disturbing depiction of what very well could have happened at the time, an incredibly well-made film that is still unsettling to this day. I'm not going to show it to any kid of mine though, at least not when they are ten... [9/10]

Children of the Corn: Genesis (2011)

Knowing what we do now, it's hard to look at the Weinsteins separating from Disney as anything but petty tyrants trying to hold onto what little power they had left. The brothers took Dimension with them to the Weinstein Company, determined to squeeze the label's hits for all they were worth. Of course, TWC was run like a circus and could rarely get its shit together long enough to push a proper film through development. It's well known that the producers would throw together a ninth "Hellraiser," shot in a week, strictly to hold onto the presumably valuable remake rights. "Hellraiser: Revelations" is the most infamous cinematic ashcan copy this side of Corman's "Fantastic Four." However, the company actually did the exact same thing with another of their long running series first. The remake trend was petering out by 2011 but I guess Bob and Harvey figured "Children of the Corn" might make a worthwhile property again someday. Or maybe they were bitter the 2009 remake was made without their involvement. Whatever the reason, "Children of the Corn: Genesis" would be rushed into production in 2011 and crapped onto the Dimension Extreme straight-to-DVD label that August. 

In 1970, a man named Cole returned from Vietnam to his hometown of Gatlin, Nebraska. He found his parents murdered by corn-worshiping kids. Forty years later, Tim and Ally have their car break down in the California desert. With no cell reception and Ally being pregnant, they seek shelter in a nearby home. A strange man and his Ukrainian wife invite them in. However, things quickly get weird. The man, known as Preacher, is a religious fanatic but also owns a hi-def camera and TV. His bride attempts to seduce Tim and asks him to get her out of there. Once night falls, they are ordered not to exit their room. Ally does and discovers a child locked up in a shed. Poltergeist activity and strange visions ensue, all of it connected to the massacre in Gatlin somehow. 

To learn "Genesis" – a subtitle suggesting a prequel but without any real meaning – was quickly assembled to hold onto a copyright is unsurprising. The script tosses together a bunch of different elements without much cause. A young couple stranded in the desert and ending up in the home of a Bible-thumping, redneck lunatic recalls many other horror films. Eventually, objects and people start to get tossed around by an unseen force, suggesting a ghostly haunting. Or, as Ally bluntly suggests, the work of a telekinetic. All the while, Preacher rambles on about evil, purity, and corruption. The girl finds a shed with a steel cross inside, handcuffs attached to it, which triggers a split second vision of some S&M group sex activity. The suggestion seems to be that Preacher is a backwoods cult leader, possibly producing child porn, his wife and her offspring are his captives. At the same time, the movie is constantly swerving in different directions, repeatedly changing its mind about who is the real threat here and its exact nature. Is the little boy more dangerous than Preacher? Or is he the psychic murderer? What is the deal with the kid anyway? None of this melds into a coherent whole, the movie running down its eighty minute runtime by doing whatever with what little material it has. 

You might have noticed that the above has little to do with children, corn, the mass killing of adults, or He Who Walks Behind the Rows. Yes, the "Children of the Corn" movies have truly reached in-name-only status by this point. How the opening flashback to Gatlin set Preacher/Cole down the path he's on now is never explained. His own philosophy shifts between being a rebuking of the original child cult and some sort of continuation of it. How this connects to the little kid in the shed and the telekinetic weirdness is never explained. The movie does the bare minimum to justify its placement in this series. Preacher has corn silk crucifixes around his house. A group of Amish looking child cultists appear at the very end. Ally has a dream where she's in a cornfield. She's strapped to a scarecrow stand and put before some ominous stick sculpture by a group of sickle-wielding youths. This is the sole time "Genesis" resembles the previous films. Otherwise, it's a bottom-of-the-barrel attempt at a "nice urban couple at the mercy of a desert weirdo" thriller with some supernatural bullshit grafted on. Nary a cornstalk in sight. 

Truthfully, the biggest connection "Genesis" has to Stephen King's story is the bickering married couple. Tim and Ally don't verbally spar the way Burt and Vicky did. Honestly, Kelen Coleman and Tim Rock almost have a cute chemistry together. However, Ally eventually becomes convinced Tim slept with Preacher's mail order bride. Meanwhile, Tom becomes annoyed by the suggestion that Ally might have aborted their first pregnancy. These threadbare subplots lead to truly inessential sequences. Considering the movie is nothing but a bunch of random bullshit, held together by the lingering rights to a short story from 1973, it's utterly impossible to care about anything that happens. The interpersonal melodrama least of all. 

With so little going for it, what good can I possibly say about "Children of the Corn: Genesis?" Mainly, that Billy Drago is as convincing a wild-eyed psycho as ever. Drago as a Manson-like cult leader, pontificating on the woes of the world while producing kiddie porn on the side, could've made for a decent film under less desperate circumstances. Also, there's a scene where a cop gets raptured right up into the stratosphere that made me laugh. Otherwise, there's nothing to recommend. I don't blame director Joel Soisson, a regular of Dimension's direct-to-video sequels. I imagine he did the best he could with the limited resources he had, as that opening scene isn't awful. IMDb lists the budget as four million dollars but there's no way that's true. The biggest stunt, a climatic freeway accident, appears to be stock footage. In other words, "Children of the Corn: Genesis" is the weakest kind of ethanol, carried solely on Drago's leathery back, and suitable for consumption by only the most devoted corn heads. [3/10]

The Frighteners: Have a Nice Time at the Zoo, Darling

Long before the Peter Jackson film of the same name, there was a British suspense anthology series known as "The Frighteners." Airing on ITV for thirteen episodes in 1972, the series was largely forgotten until a DVD release in 2017. The most highly regarded episode seems to be the last, "Have a Nice Time at the Zoo, Darling." Thirteen year old girl Elizabeth is stalked by an older man after leaving choir practice. The next day, she visits the zoo where the same man – who keeps pictures of children in his coat pocket – approaches her again. The two begin a dialogue, the girl uncomfortable and the man nervous. As they look at the animals and talk more, their conversation grows graver, making it increasingly clear that they share a history. One of them will be dead before the day is over. 

Despite the title – and the screaming face prominently placed in its opening credits – "The Frighteners" was a series that focused solely on psychological suspense rather than supernatural terror. The end of "Have a Nice Time at the Zoo, Darling" reveals that this is a story more dramatic than horrific. There is still an undeniable, queasy tension to the entire episode. That's largely because of the game of misdirection the script is playing. An adult man following a teenage girl – her youth emphasized by the school uniform she wears – brings certain connotations to mind. Considering we also see him at a playground by himself, looking at photographs of little girls while sitting on a seesaw, one can't help but assume his motivations. At the zoo, he asks innocuous questions about the animals while drawing physically closer to her. During a very uncomfortable moment, he reaches out and nearly touches her, as if he's trying to sniff her hair. This guy is a pervert, right? If not a full-on sexual predator, preparing to assault this young girl.

The episode carefully avoids naming the reason for this meeting, obviously expecting the audience to fill in the blanks. It gets more cringe-inducing as the girl reveals that she's interacted with the man before, getting him to admit that he found her beautiful when she was younger. And that he was sent away for many years. She references making a vow of love towards the man and him seeing another woman, as if she's displaying jealousy. Is this some sort of sick power play, between a child molester and a past victim? Who, in her trauma from the violation, convinced herself that she actually loved this older man? It's a sick suggestion that David Hodson's script willingly plays with. Considering the cold, casual way the girl talks about piranhas, saying they look harmless but can be deadly, I was wondering if we weren't meant to ask who the predator and who the prey was. Or if a long gestating game of revenge was playing out here. 

Well, it's sort of that. The final shots are chilling, for the way they suggest that Elizabeth might be far more calculating and vicious than you'd expect a girl her age to be. However, the script does reveal that the dynamic between these two is not as salacious as it seems. After building up quite a lot of suspense with nauseating implications, it's a slightly disappointing ending. (Or relieving, I guess, depending on your perspective.) Nevertheless, "Have a Nice Time at the Zoo, Darling" is an effective half-hour of television. Geoffrey Bayldon and Helen Lindsay are both excellent in their respective roles. Shot in black-and-white do to a technician strike, the episode has a striking look. The cinematography varies between roaming tracking shots and tight close-ups, helping create a sense of realism and drawing us into this uncomfortable interaction. It's probably not exactly what horror fans are looking for or expecting but this is still a disturbing half-hour that is tensely executed and contains a chilling ending. [7/10]

The Addams Family: Morticia, the Matchmaker

"Morticia, the Matchmaker" expands our knowledge of the extended Addams family by introducing Morticia's cousin, Melancholia. Her fiancée recently dumped her to join the Foreign Legion, the latest in a long line of abandonments. Visiting the Addams, Morticia and Gomez decide to find a proper husband for the heartbroken woman. After many rejections, they receive a call from Charles P. Harvey. Harvey is a lawyer only interested in getting Gomez to sign over some land to him – a bat cave in Nairobi – that oil was recently discovered under. However, upon learning he's single, the Addams immediately attempt to pair him up with Melancholia, much to her joy and Harvey's distress. 

"The Addams Family" usually drives its humor from outsiders reacting to the family's manner. Which is a joke that has proven surprisingly flexible but still only has so much juice in it. "Morticia, the Matchmaker" does shift things around a bit by playing inside the family for some of its runtime. Melancholia reacting with warmth to the Addams' various bizarre decorations is the first sign that she's where she belongs. The way Morticia and Gomez leap right into trying to help her is quite adorable, especially the enthusiasm John Astin puts into the phone calls he makes. The biggest laugh in the episode comes when they ask Lurch to take Melancholia's hand in marriage, the show once again getting a shocking amount of humor out to Ted Cassidy's bemused grumbles. (Morticia says Lurch is a "lady's man," which frankly gives me more insight into the towering man-servant's personal life than I care to have.)

Eventually, the show does lean into its usual comedic devices. Once Harvey is introduced, we get many scenes of him being horrified by the Addams and all their associated habits. The physical gag of Granmama throwing "love dust" into his face is revisited far too often. I honestly do feel bad for all the jokes at Hazel Shermet's expense, as Melancholia. It's not like she's hideously ugly or anything. She looks rather nice after Morticia gives her a gothy make-over. Lee Goodman goes get some chuckles as Harvey though, reacting to the entire situation with a number of smart-alack asides. The plot line does wrap up on a nicely unexpected moment, so all's well that ends well. This episode also reveals that Gomez has a number of operations around the world, including the aforementioned bat cave and a salt mine. I'm going to try and not hold that against him. Considering how Gomez seems to relish in what other people think of as failure, hopefully any workers connected to him get to take it easy and not get exploited. [6/10]