The progenitor to the eighties nuclear annihilation movie is not so much post-apocalyptic melodramas like "On the Beach" or "Five." Instead, a more direct lineage can be traced to the 1966 speculative documentary, "The War Games," which tried to depict the aftermath of a nuclear war with as much realism as possible. (Subsequently getting banned by the BBC because of it.) In 1982, filmmaker Mick Johnson would essentially update "The War Game" with his thirty minute doc, "A Guide to Armageddon," which existed to debunk the British government's overly optimistic instructions on what to do in the case of nuclear war. The film so impressed BBC director Alasdair Milne that he hired Johnson to direct a feature length expansion. Unlike "The War Game," "Threads" actually would air on British television, having a similar effect over there that "The Day After" did in the U.S. the year prior. Today, it is widely regarded as the most disturbing and graphic of the films made on this topic.
"Threads" is set in Sheffield, the fourth largest city in England. The story centers on Ruth and Jimmy, two young adults who rush to get engaged after she unexpectedly becomes pregnant. Meanwhile, rising tensions in the Middle East between the U.S. and the Soviet Union puts the world on edge. After American forces detonate a nuclear bomb in Soviet-occupied Turkey, local authorities in England prepare for imminent war. There's not much they can do however. Bombs are dropped on the U.K., millions die, and the country is utterly devastated. A pregnant Ruth attempts to survive in the ruins afterwards, an observer to the breakdown of the threads that keep society together.
Despite the holistic viewpoint "Threads" often takes, the film still saves time for a more intimate perspective on the end of the world as we know it. We first meet Ruth and Jimmy in their car, talking and flirting. They are trying to keep their lives together in the face of international conflict. This is keenly depicted in a moment where a nursery they carefully wallpapered earlier in the movie has to be stripped down and converted into a shelter. We see the local electives having meetings and making phone calls. Once the bomb drops, everyone's priorities changes. "Threads" doesn't draw away from these locations at this point either. We see scenes of Ruth's grandparents, embarrassed over having wet the bed or vomiting from radiation poisoning. The local government, trapped in their bunker underground, does their best to carry on but can't even get clean air down there. Hospitals are immediately overwhelmed, looting and martial law breaks out instantly, and the sick and dying must be left behind by the few that survive. Eventually, "Threads" does loose track of its individual characters as the focus shifts more to the breakdown of society in general, representing probably the biggest weakness in the film. Then again, it's not like there was much choice, when most of your principal characters brutally die half-way through the story.
The quasi-documentary approach has the narrative travelling far further into the future too. Food and clean water become the only currency. We see the detonation effects on agriculture and the lingering aftermath of a nuclear winter. Civilization is rocked back to medieval times, resulting in ghostly images of people standing in grey fields and thumping on the ground with rudimentary tools. Language degrades, the next generation speaking in a clipped, semi-verbal form of English. Of course, mutation and sickness remains present. If all of these films sought to educate people on the true cost of such a conflict, "Threads" goes the furthest in showing how future generations would grow up in a post-apocalyptic world. The result is discouraging, to say the least.
Can you believe that they were still making "Children of the Corn" movies in 2018? After the series was run into the ground in the late nineties, it seems improbable that new entries were still arriving eighteen years later. By that point, the remake fad was over and the direct-to-video market was dying a slow death. I guess the Weinsteins – their company still barely clutching to life at the time – figured there was one final, thin droplet of blood to squeeze from this corn. That same year would see Dimension puke up another "Hellraiser" installment, made once again largely to hold onto the rights. Considering "Children of the Corn" was another New World Pictures orphan the company picked up at the same time, perhaps the rights to both titles were intertwined in some way? Whatever the reason, "Children of the Corn: Runaway" would arrive on disc seven years after the last one and roughly twenty years after anyone stopped giving a shit.
"Runaway" essentially operates as a sequel to Stephen King's original story. It follows Ruth, a Child of the Corn who was growing disillusioned with the cult in the final paragraph of King's text. Turns out Ruth set fire to the cornfield and fled Gatlin, giving birth to Malachi's son on the road. For the last thirteen years, Ruth and her son, Aaron, have lived out of a pick-up truck. After getting pulled over in Luther, Oklahoma, Ruth finds work in a local mechanic's shop. The owner provides a home for her and Aaron. Ruth remains haunted by her memories of Gatlin and the massacre. As she begins to see a spectral little girl – and people around her begin to die – it becomes clear that He Who Walks Behind the Rows isn't done with Ruth... Or her son.
A "Children of the Corn" sequel aspiring to actual art, and not just a cynical product designed to squeeze a few more cents out of a vaguely recognizable title, is surprising. More so because "Runaway" actually kind of pulls it off. This is largely thanks to Marci Miller's lead performance. Previous sequels have nodded at the intriguing idea of what happens when one of the Children of the Corn grows up. Miller's performance actually shows the lingering trauma of murdering your parents as part of a child cult. Miller projects both vulnerability, with her big blue eyes, but also a hardscrabble strength that reflects the character's years spent living on the road. "Runaway" is basically about a parent desperately trying to give her child a better life than she had. As hard as Ruth works not to spread her trauma onto her son, there's an unavoidable feeling that the boy is already doomed. The past always catches up with us and, no matter how hard we try to escape it, our childhoods still mold us into the people – and parents – we become. This is a narrative anyone can relate to but an ambitious one to incorporate into a quickie slasher sequel.
There's no doubt that “Children of the Corn: Runaway” benefits from lowered expectations. Especially after the previous entry in the series was bottom-of-the-barrel slop, the fact that part ten is actually trying something is appreciated. There's an argument to be made that “Runaway” might be the best film in the entire franchise. Daring to be character driven and atmospheric, instead of schlocky and jumbled, was something this series should've tried sooner. I don't want to oversell this one. It's still strangled by a low budget and the expectations of being a “Children of the Corn” movie. You could make the case that this is a bargain bin rip-off of the “elevated horror” style that was starting to take shape at the time. Still, a strong lead performance and a script – somehow written by the same guy who made “Genesis” – with some actual ideas on its mind make “Runaway” significantly better than a movie made only to secure a copyright needed to be. [7/10]
La porta sul buio: Il tram
Legend has it that, after attending a screening of "Bird with the Crystal Plumage," Alfred Hitchcock said of Dario Argento "This Italian fellow is starting to make me nervous." There's no denying that Argento was deeply influenced by, and emulated, Hitchcock. In more ways than one. As Hitch hosted his own television series of mystery and suspense stories, Argento sought to do the same. In 1973, he would conceive of "La porta sul buio," "Door Into Darkness." The series would only run for four installments, the director seemingly constrained by the censorship standards of Italian television. Since everything the Maestro touches has a cult following, the short-lived program has been released on disc over here. Argento introduced all four episodes and directed two, of which "The Tram" seems to be the most highly regarded.
The story begins with the discovery of a dead woman's body on a public transportation tram. The police, led by Detective Giordani, conclude she was killed by a single stab to the back of the neck. Though there were several other passengers on the train, nobody reports seeing anything unusual. Giordani gathers up every passenger and recreates the bus ride to determine a suspect. The police quickly conclude that the ticket taker, who had a history of harassing women and kept a matching knife in his locker, must have done it. Giordani isn't so sure, continuing the investigation himself... And quickly falling into the path of the real murderer.
But then the last third kicks in. Giordani rides the tram at night, noticing that there's a split second when the train goes dark and a curve in the track obscures a view of the seat. The camera focuses in on the black gloves of the unidentified killer, who stalks the detective while wearing leather boots. There's an attempted murder shown from the attacker's perspective. By the time the detective's girlfriend – while wearing a very short red skirt – is stalked through the darkened tram station by an unseen killer wielding a hook... That's when that tingle started to creep up my spine, that unique sense of elation I felt when I was first discovering Argento's masterpieces. "The Tram's" denouncement isn't as exciting, or bloody, as "Profondo Rosso" or "Tenebre." (Though there is, it seems, a molecule of social commentary in the final scene.) Dario doesn't show the on-screen charisma or dark humor that made Hitchcock such a great host. Yet, for a brief few minutes in its last act, "The Tram" becomes a delicious slice of pure giallo goodness that sates the specific perverse appetites of those looking for more from Argento's golden age. That alone makes "The Tram" a hidden gem. [8/10]
Supposedly, Charles Addams based the character that would become Lurch on Boris Karloff's mute manservant from "The Old Dark House." Accordingly, Lurch was intended to be a silent role on the TV show. However, Ted Cassidy's deadpan grumbling and catchphrase of "You raaaaang?" proved so popular that the writers gave him more to do. Such as in "Lurch Learns to Dance," where the titular shambler is despondent over his yearly invitation to the Butler's Ball. Lurch turns it down every year because he's unable to dance. Hoping to encourage their butler to be more social, Gomez and Morticia hire a dance instructor for Lurch. When this doesn't go so well, the family takes it upon themselves to teach their beloved employee some rhythm.
"Lurch Learns to Dance" definitely gives Cassidy the most dialogue and action he's had in the show up to this point. Honestly, it's a bit surprising to see the corpse-like butler speaking in full sentences. However, Cassidy's comedic instincts prove strong. The character's attempts at smiling or dragging around a comatose dance instructor produce belly laughs. The scenes of him doing ballet with Wednesday or tangoing with Gomez are much sillier. Cassidy is clearly a good sport, prancing around in a Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit and some weird Zorro get-up. Though he's funnier when mumbling responses.
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