Halloween 2024: September 23rd

Children of the Corn (2020)

The year was 2020 and the world was in the grips of a pandemic the likes of which hadn't been seen in a hundred years. But someone knew exactly what was needed during this troubled time, to bring us all together and heal our hearts: A new "Children of the Corn" movie. Yes, Kurt Wimmer – the visionary filmmaker who boldly answered the question of "What if Paul W.S. Anderson's movies were shittier?" – believed so much in this idea that he forged ahead after the threat of COVID-19 put a stop to most film productions. Thus are the risks you take for art! In all seriousness, a remake of "Children of the Corn" had been bandied about as soon as people forgot one already existed. With the death of Dimension Films putting the rights up for grabs and the box office success of "IT" making King adaptations hot again, time was probably right for a new one. Unfortunately, the bad luck that began with filming during a pandemic continued as, after one screening, the movie basically disappeared for two years. Shudder dug it up, dusted off the corn silk, and slapped the reboot onto their streaming service last year. How does the latest entry in this inexplicably long-running franchise stack up? 

2020's "Children of the Corn" does make a clever choice I'm surprised the franchise hadn't done before. Instead of taking place after the killings have already happened, it shows the child uprising as it plays out. In a small Nebraskan town, Eden's older brother leads a revolt among the local children that results in a whole crowd of kids being killed via poison gas. Eden is then adopted by a pastor living in nearby Rylstone. The town's livelihood of corn is failing, prompting an idea to destroy the crops and take a government subsidy. Local teenager Bo is against this idea, thinking a long term strategy is better. Eden is horrified too but that's because she's begun to worship an entity living in the cornfields called He Who Walks Behind the Rows. Having gathered a following among the town's children, Eden leads a bloody revolt against every adult. Bo stays behind to save her father and break the hold the cult has on her younger brother. 

Dropping the Christian fanaticism and pagan rites of every previous iteration, this "Children of the Corn" instead posits another explanation for the murders: Maybe the adults had it coming. Eden convinces the local kids to wipe out the grown-ups by speaking to genuine grievances the youths have with the prior generation. Kids have been abused, ignored, mocked, and left to live in a world without a future. The bloodshed starts with a mock trial against the town's leaders, which ends with a whole crowd being buried alive in a mass grave. When Eden promises that Rylstone is only the beginning, that she's going to lead a bloody revolution against all grown-ups everywhere, it speaks to the idea that children actually are an underclass that have suffered throughout human history. A charismatic leader radicalizing an overlooked social caste by speaking to the resentment in their heart is probably a more plausible modern cause for this story than brainwashing by Old Testament moralizing or eldritch nature deities. 

While Wimmer's film has some bold ideas, the scares simply aren't there. Everyone having cell phones and internet connection remove the small town isolation pivotal to the other films. An overall drab, earthy visual style removes any chance at atmosphere. There's a curious cruelty to the death scenes, too sadistic to function as cathartic fake violence but not realistic enough to be disturbing. More than anything else, these children aren't creepy. They're kind of goofy actually, playing pirate or "Alice in Wonderland"-themed make-believe games before graduating to mass patricide. The sense of strict social structures or cult-like devotion present in previous iterations of the story isn't here, the audience never feeling the sway Eden's beliefs have over the other kids. This shaky uncertainty is paired with some ghastly CGI jump scares that truly undermine any tension.

At times, it feels like this "Children of the Corn" is toying with removing the supernatural element from the story altogether. The movie is filled with some vague anti-GMO undertones, pointing out that the townsfolk have used fancy pesticides and lab-grown seeds in hopes of saving their dying town. In the first scene, Bo points out that toxic molds can grow on dying corn and that such an outbreak probably led to mass hysterias like the Salem witch trials. Both ideas are basically dropped in the second half, when it's revealed that He Who Walks Behind the Rows is real. And he's a giant CGI cornstalk monster. All of the "Children of the Corn" movies have struggled with how to depict the unseen god referenced in King's story. A knock-off PS4 Swamp Thing proves no more convincing than a cloud of red graphics or a fireball in a grain silo. After this reveal, the reboot abandons its killer kid gimmick to become an uninspired monster movie, building to an extremely stupid gotcha ending. 

An influence from 2017's "IT" – and the inspiration that film took from "Stranger Things" – is certainly felt. Elena Kampouris, as Bo, has a Sophia Lillis vibe about her with her tomboy fashion and curly bob. Like that film and show, this "Children of the Corn" attempts to invest us in the young characters' lives. Bo's father seems to have been recently left by their cheating mother, though the exact nature of this split is never defined. Her brother is annoyed that she's leaving town to go to college, feeling abandoned. Both of these subplots are dropped long before the end and none of this half-formed melodrama hooks the viewer anyway. It's a bummer too, as the young actors aren't bad. Kampouris has a certain girl-next-door charm about her that's paired with a spunky, can-do attitude. While I'm mixed on the character of Eden in general, finding her more annoying than creepy, I do think Kate Moyer did a decent job. Her anti-adult rants are convincing enough. She shows a cold brutality, which comes from a place of genuine contempt for the grown-ups around her.

With a better fleshed-out script and a director more interested in creating a foreboding atmosphere than playing with CGI bullshit, I think this "Children of the Corn" probably could've been a good movie. Taking more from the childhood resentment of "Who Could Kill a Child?" was a better idea than referring back to any of the previous sequels. It has some strong ideas and solid leads. As ridiculous as the notion of a corn-centric horror series is, clearly something about this premise resonates with people. They wouldn't have made eleven fucking movies if it didn't. So I'm sure He Who Walks Behind the Rows, in whatever form he takes next, will rise from the cornfield again at some point in the future. Until then, 2020's "Children of the Corn" represents an interesting attempt at reinventing the story that never fully wins you over. [6/10]

Your Vice Is a Locked Door and Only I Have the Key (1972)

Il tuo vizio è una stanza chiusa e solo io ne ho la chiave

Too often, the word "giallo" is thrown around to refer to any Italian horror movie that doesn't have zombies in it. Listen, people, please: "Suspiria" is not a giallo. This is all the sillier since gialli are easily identified by their titles. The more lurid and long-winded the Italian title is, the likelier the film is to contain black-gloved murderers, stylish directions, unusually observant detectives, and a smattering of eroticism. I kid, of course, as outliers with one-word titles, like "Autopsy" or "Libido," do exist... You might think of "Torso" as a simply-named giallo but Italian prints are known as "The Bodies Bear Traces of Carnal Violence!"  Sergio Martino directed that one. He also made my favorite example of a sleazy killer-thriller whose name functions as a short story on its own, 1972's "Your Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key." 

Oliviero's mother was a successful actress, famous for playing Mary Scott. Upon her death, she left her riches, her estate, and a boatload of mommy issues to her son. Once a popular novelist, Oliviero has fallen into alcoholism and perversion. He takes his sexual and creative frustration out on Irina, his much-abused and long suffering wife. Irina is also tormented by her late mother-in-law's cat, nicknamed Satan. When Oliviero's mistress and the house's maid are brutally murdered, Irina begins to suspect that her husband is a killer. The arrival of Oliviero's comely niece, Floriana, inflames everyone's passions further. The three are soon entangled in their own schemes, as the bodies pile up in the wine cellar. 

"Your Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key" isn't an especially representative title. The words are taken from an earlier Martino gialli and the script is another loose adaptation of Poe's "The Black Cat." Not that there isn't plenty of vice here! In fact, the film possesses an impressively depraved atmosphere. Within the opening minutes, Oliviero has been sexually racist towards his maid, invited a hippy chick to dance naked on his table, and brutally assaulted his wife. Incest, voyeurism, prostitution, piquerism, animal cruelty, and dirt bikes all weave their way into the plot. Did I mention that Floriana is bisexual and easily seduces Irina too? The film's twisted soul is most reflected in the character of Oliviero. An always sweaty, always hirsute booze hound who is also always horny despite his implied impotence, he spends the entire movie ranting and raving at everyone while holding an unseemly obsession with his dead mother. That's the world "Your Vice..." takes place in, one where psychological hang-ups have long since calcified into aberrant fetishes and shrieking madness. The murder is a natural side effect of such an environment, where wanting to fuck your niece feels like one of the more reasonable things the male lead tries to do. 

Despite an incredibly lurid plot,  "Your Vice" isn't only a sleazy exploitation movie. While Oliviero is all raging id and libido, Irina spends nearly the entire movie in a state of hysterics. Considering she lives with an abusive monster and is even terrorized by the family cat, you can't blame her for going a little crazy. Setting this story in a crumbling villa is fitting, the shadows of the dilapidated building reflecting the broken minds of its characters. Like any gialli worth its salt, the story has multiple twists, turns, and double-crosses. Presumed innocents will be revealed as schemers before being betrayed by yet another conniving femme fatale. The most sympathetic angle of the script, that it's about putting us inside the head of a deeply traumatized woman, is lost before the end. I suppose that's only fitting, as the obscuring shadows of madness also deceive the eyes. In a movie this grimy, everyone has blood on their hands by the end. 

It's not as if a few narrative loose ends are atypical for films like this. All the gaps are filled with the stylish visuals we expect of the subgenre. This is my third Sergio Martino and his strength for voyeuristic eroticism is already apparent. We often watch over people's shoulders as murder, sexual encounters, or eavesdropping occurs. Martino and cinematographer Giancarlo Ferrnando apply soft-focus sensuality or lecherous leering to the nude scenes. The shocking scenes, meanwhile, are heavy on the crash-zooms and latex skin being slashed open. These elements veer towards the tacky at times. However, a sequence where a dead body tumbles down the stairs is a showstopper. By the time we get to the frenziedly edited climax – which cuts between a motorcycle ride around twisting cliffs, close-ups on a provocative billboard, and the killer's preparation while Bruno Nicolai's intoxicating score swirls around it all – I knew the movie had fully won me over. 

A killer clad in a fedora, white stocking mask, black gloves, and wielding a billhook always pairs nicely with a flashy direction and a kinky plot. What truly puts "Your Vice is a Locked Door and Only I Have the Key" over-the-top is a trio of operatic performances. Luigi Pistili operates at eleven throughout the entire runtime, making Oliviero as big of a bastard as possible, never letting a mere look or whisper do when a wild glare or bellow is better. Edwige Fenech gets top-billing despite not appearing until twenty minutes in, looking almost painfully gorgeous. Her eyes always sparkle with the perfect mix of playful innocence and seductive scheming. Anita Strindberg plays Irina as a woman far pass her limit, long since broken down by constant abuse. She switches – effectively, I'll add – into a gleaming seductress at times. However, when the Poe-inspired conclusion arrives and she wails "SATANA!!!" to the heavens, the film is re-centered around her sad, shaken up persona. 

Of Martino's work I've seen so far, "Your Vice Is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key" is easily my favorite. The murder scenes maybe aren't as gorgeously stylish as those seen in Bava or Argento's best work. However, the twisted script and psychological darkness drew me in as the visuals and music get more and more hypnotic. When the Poe component comes back around at the very end, I realized I was smiling ear-to-ear. This sick little feature had found the key to my locked room. Or maybe Martino's other movies only needed to put Edwige Fenech in a pageboy haircut and hot pants to make me love this much. Either way, this is essential viewing for Italian horror devotees, a gory, sleazy, campy, and intoxicating experience. [9/10]

Orson Welles Great Mysteries: The Monkey's Paw

I always thought Orson Welles would've made a perfect host for an anthology series. His resounding voice, eloquent delivery, and distinctive screen presence made him an ideal master of ceremonies for any presentation of the macabre or unusual. A particular radio broadcast proved that. During the frozen peas era of his career, he'd also lend his talent and reputation to any commercial or talk show willing to pay his bill, born out of a desire to fund his serially unfinished passion projects. My suspicion that Welles must've hosted his own "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" at some point was correct. It didn't air in this country though. "Orson Welles Great Mysteries" was broadcast on ITV during the 1973-1974 season. Wearing what looks like the same fedora and cloak from "F for Fake," Welles would introduce tales of mystery and suspense, often adapted from the works of well-known authors. Not every episode dabbled in the uncanny but a few did. Such as the eleventh, a take on W.W. Jacob's oft-told "The Monkey's Paw." 

If you read the story during high school English class, this adaptation will present few surprises. Other than moving the setting into the modern day, it follows the text closely. Elderly retirees, the Whites, are visited by an old friend, Major Morris. Morris has acquired an enchanted monkey's paw while in India, claiming it can grant three wishes but always at a horrible price. Not taking these warnings seriously, the Whites' son encourages his dad to wish for a thousand pounds, to pay off the mortgage. The next day, Herbert is horribly killed in an accident at work. The factory owner offers the family a thousand pounds in compensation. Two wishes remain, the Whites attempting to undo the horror the cursed paw has wrought and only making things worse in the process. 

Jacob's story is so iconic and influential throughout pop culture that it's hard to believe it didn't always exist. Even today, you see memes and jokes about the finger on the monkey's paw curling. The premise of getting whatever you want, but only in the most horribly ironic way, feels mythic. As does the story's climax, in which seemingly the resurrected but hideously mangled corpse of the son bangs at the door unseen. It's the kind of classical ghost story intrinsic to the human imagination, endlessly retold and parodied. Like all timeless tales, it carries a moral too: Be careful what you wish for, as it might come true. Welles' introduction centers in on the ideas of coincidence and destiny, questioning whether we are to take the story's supernatural elements at face value and how much control we have over our own fate. 

As for this dramatic presentation, it is a serviceable telling of the tale. Patrick Magee, making one of his many appearances in British genre entertainment of the time, is properly ominous as Morris. In fact, his warnings are so grave that it's hard to imagine the family brushing them aside. The episode is well directed by Alan Gibson, a vet of British television who also directed the final two Christopher Lee Dracula flicks. The dissolve from the spinning gears of Herbert's bicycle to a clock's face is clever, emphasizing time clicking down in the boy's life and suggesting the industrial accident that will take it. The final act is set up by the wind blowing outside, establishing a properly eerie mood. The banging on the door never builds much suspense but the final shot – a slow pull-out in the open door, mist blowing through the air,  surrounded by darkness – is quite striking. Not bad! By the way, Welles hosted another anthology series later in his career, though "Scene of the Crime" veered more towards the procedural side of things and is even more obscure. [7/10]

The Addams Family: Art and the Addams Family

The pop art movement was rolling along in the early sixties, so it's not surprising that "The Addams Family" would obliquely comment on it. "Art and the Addams Family" sees Granmama getting into modernism. When a local art critic turns his nose up at her work, Gomez decides to hire a teacher. He tries to call Pablo Picasso and instead gets in contact with Sam Picasso, a nobody from Spain. Sam is, at first, overjoyed to be taken in by the rich Addams. Soon, however, he finds himself terrified by the family's unusual habits. 

"The Addams Family" cloaked its humor in campy, classic horror trappings which allowed it to sneak some surprisingly dark jokes onto sixties television. "Art and the Addams Family" introduces Sam Picasso as he's about to put his neck in a noose. Later, he becomes convinced that the Addams intend to torture or murder him, as he's locked in the dungeon and sees Fester walk in carrying a sword. There's jokes about Kitty Cat eating a zookeeper and Wednesday decapitating all her dolls, both delivered with perfectly innocent verve by Lisa Loring. I'm not going to say any of this was cutting edge, even at the time. Still, I'm surprised at what this show was able to get away with. It was a lot edgier than its competition. 

Otherwise, it's a pretty standard episode of "The Addams Family." Vito Scotti is an amusing straight man as Sam. His attempts to manipulate Gomez backfire, as the patriarch agrees to his every outrageous demand. Scotti's increasingly horrified reactions got a chuckle or two out of me. If nothing else, the show is building nicely on many of its established aspects. Cleopatra the African Strangler plant and Pugsley's habit of digging tunnels are both utilized in amusing moments. It's also kind of odd to think of Pablo Picasso as a contemporary to the Addams Family. He was 82 when this episode aired and was still painting. I wonder if he ever saw it? [6/10]