Halloween 2024: September 8th

The Strangers: Chapter 1 (2024)

Upon release in 2008, Bryan Bertino's “The Strangers” certainly seemed primed to launch an on-going series. Its premise, of a trio of masked home invaders terrorizing people at random, is an endlessly mutable set-up that a long string of sequels could follow. And it certainly didn't hurt that the movie made 82 million dollars against a mere 9 million dollar budget. Instead of us getting a new “Strangers” every year, it took a decade for “The Strangers: Prey at Night” to arrive. Part two didn't blow the box office up but it still more than tripled its production budget. After Lionsgate acquired the property not long ago, they clearly didn't want to wait that long to make more “Strangers” movies. The company immediately announced an ambitious plan to reboot the concept as a trilogy, directed by Renny Harlin. The company is so intent on turning "The Strangers" into a regularly scheduled series that they made the risky move to shoot the three films simultaneously. This unorthodox scheme, to engineer a horror franchise through sheer brute force, kicked off back in May with “The Strangers: Chapter 1.”

The press material described “Chapter 1” as a reboot while its subtitle implies it's a prequel. This is despite the new “Strangers” clearly being a remake of the old “Strangers.” It follows Maya and Ryan, a couple celebrating their fifth anniversary with a road trip. Their car breaks down in Venus, Oregon. Since the autoshop says they won't receive the necessary part until the next morning, the two find an Airbnb to spend the night in. At first, Maya finds the experience rather romantic. However, a strange girl knocking on their door and asking if someone named Tamara is there unsettles her. That's the first of many terrifying events that night. Soon, the two realized they are being stalked by a trio of masked intruders, ready to play a deadly game with their randomly chosen prey. That is, if you didn't notice, basically the same premise as the original. Imagine how I feel, knowing that a movie I saw in theaters as a teenager is now old enough to get a remake...

For all its flaws, 2008's "The Strangers" did generate a grim tension. It never left any doubt in the viewers' minds that the central couple were doomed from the get-go, that nothing was stopping the intruders from piercing their inner sanctum, and that everything that followed was a sadistic ritual on their behalves. That Bryan Bertino has repeatedly shown a talent for generating eerie soundscapes and a mounting sense of dread was clearly a factor in his original film working so well. Harlin's version, on the other hand, can never capture that same foreboding feeling. It's heavier on the jump scares, with most of the Strangers' sudden appearances on-screen being accompanied by a loud shriek on the soundtrack. The remake trots out the well-known modern cliché of there being no cell service out in the country. "Chapter 1" mostly drops the ball on the sense of isolation that was so important to the original's success. This is largely because the script draws a lot more attention to there being a town around the solitary home the protagonists shack up in. At one point, Ryan jumps on a motorcycle, rides up to a food truck, and gets himself a burger. It definitely diminishes the sense that no one is coming to help these kids if a bustling little town is a short drive away. Making the location an AirBnB makes our heroes feel more connected to the outside world, not alone and vulnerable. 

In fact, there is this lingering suggestion that the townsfolks are somehow connected to the Strangers. The redneck mechanic is excessively creepy, in a way familiar to anyone who has watched lots of backwoods set horror flicks. The kids on bikes passing out religious literature, simply background color in Bertino's film, now have a bigger presence. Suggesting some weird religious shit is going on in the town, which feels like it could link back to the cult-like vibes the Strangers possess. That a waitress points the couple to the central location also hints at a bigger connection. Moreover, Richard Brake – well established as the premiere creep character actor of the moment – has a mostly silent bit part as the town's sheriff. One assumes that a recognizable actor wouldn't be in such a small role unless this preconceived trilogy had future plans for him. You don't cast Richard Brake as a background character, you cast him as a crook or a psycho. Considering a big part of what made the Strangers scary in the first place was how ineffable they were, their motives unknown, their crimes random, their identities unrevealed, all of this feels like a misguided addition. Or, to be brutally honest, a sweaty, desperate attempt to build up a mythology around a trio of villains who were intentionally thinly sketched. To turn Michael Myers from the original "Halloween" into Michael Myers from "Halloween 6." 

"The Strangers: Chapter 1" isn't as scary as the original or as creatively pulpy as the second. However, it's also not without its own merits. Renny Harlin has made plenty of bad movies but he's also not without skills. A scene of Maya navigating a crawlspace, trying to avoid Pin-Up Girl's detection, and running her hand through with a stray nail. That's a decently engineered moment of suspense. As is a later scene of the couple being cornered in a vehicle while the killers plow into them with their truck. Overall, as the movie goes on, it gets a little better at building tension. Harlin has always specialized in pyrotechnic-filled spectacle and he throws some of that in here too, via the motorcycle going up in flames. And that's not a half-bad scene. José David Montero, previously of "Hell Fest" and a lot of undistinguished schlock, is the cinematographer here. He makes the movie rather moody at times, with some heavy fog in the wooded scenes and a general good use of cool blues, blacks, and earthier tones. 

The biggest problem with the original "The Strangers" is that the imperiled couple were not the most likable characters. Their relationship was crumbling, causing there to be tension between them before the masked murderers showed up. The remake, meanwhile, has its protagonists deeply in love with each other. Maya and Ryan's interactions are sexy but also relaxed and comfortable. The script tries to mine drama out of his disinterest in getting engaged but the two seem fairly happy nevertheless. Madelaine Petsch and Froy Gutierrez have decent chemistry together, both displaying a kind of friendly cluelessness that compliment each other. Maybe both of them having Golden Retriever energy was necessary because – as in the original – the victims make some questionable decisions. When Ryan has a shotgun pointed right at a Stranger's head, he rambles on long enough for another to attack, instead of pulling the damn trigger. Before that, he crinkled a water bottle loudly and gave his location away. In general, it feels like any reasonable person would have gotten the hell out after seeing the first signs of a home invasion. Instead, Ryan comforts Maya and convinces her to stay. I know we wouldn't have a movie otherwise. Characters acting dumb in the horror genre isn't anything unusual. But if I had been assigned a remake of "The Strangers," I would've tried to boost the leads' intelligence as well as their affability. 

The original film ended on a distressing, cruel note that felt like a culmination of everything that came before. The inevitable kill that follows after a predator finishes toying with its prey. Since "Chapter 1" lacks that same level of dread, its ending instead feels like some gross, torture gore tagged on as a final, unsuccessful attempt to wring some scares out of this material. That a "To Be Continued..." message appears right before the credit can't help but leave the film feeling unfinished and the audience feeling unsatisfied. The flaws of "The Strangers: Chapter 1" are mostly based in it following the original so closely and sticking to this ill-conceived trilogy gimmick. If Renny Harlin had simply made a "Strangers 3," unburdened from setting up two more installments and not standing so totally in the shadow of Bertino's work, this probably would've been a decently entertaining, junk-slasher sequel. Lionsgate made the movie for 8 mil and it grossed over 40 at the box office, so at least the already-in-the-can other two parts probably won't be a sunk cost. Whether "The Strangers: Chapter 2" will build on what worked here or dig deeper into the flawed elements remains to be seen. Thus the seemingly easy task of making another "The Strangers" becoming a struggle goes on... [6/10]

The Long Hair of Death (1964)

I lunghi capelli della morte

Of all the sixties horror stars, Barbara Steele always seemed the most mysterious, the most remote. Maybe this is the result of the kind of otherworldly beauties she so often played, those piercing eyes projecting an elfin quality that can't easily be pinned down. That she has a much smaller body of work than most of her contemporaries – a row of Gothic Italian chillers in the sixties, a couple of cult classics in the last seventies, sporadic appearances since then – adds to this image as well. She wouldn't discuss her genre work for years afterwards, suggesting she was more ambivalent to it than the Hammer boys. That has thankfully changed in recent years, with Steele becoming a regular on the convention circuit. (Though she always cancels whenever she's scheduled to head to my corner of the globe...) The point of this rambling introduction is that, despite doing fewer films than Lee or Price, Steele's impact on the horror genre would be no less significant. She was basically the face of Italian Horror in the sixties. Look no further than "The Long Hair of Death," her other collaboration with Antonio Margheriti. (Whose name I didn't intend to pop up this much this September but here we are.) 

In 15th century Europe, Count Humboldt has ordered Adele Karnstein to be burned at the stake for witchcraft. The real reason for this is Adele turned down the Count's sexual advances. When Adele's oldest daughter, Helen, offers herself to the Count in exchange for her mother's pardon, he kills her too. The youngest Karnstein daughter, Lisabeth, is accepted into the Humboldt court. Years later, she has grown into a gorgeous maiden. The Count's scheming nephew, Kurt, desires her. After forcing Lisabeth into marriage with him, a mysterious beauty named Mary – who looks just like Lisabeth's late, older sister – arrives at the castle. Kurt is immediately smitten with her. He quickly pulls Mary into a scheme to murder Lisabeth. Yet both women are more than they appear to be. 

Themes of philandering men being punished for their infidelity or other twisted desires are common in gothic horror. Few films, however, attack these ideas with the ferocity of "The Long Hair of Death." The men of this unnamed, vaguely Germantic kingdom are especially wicked. The Count and Kurt both coerce Helen and Elisabeth into their beds, both women proclaiming they hate them as the men have their ways with them. Both guys are all too willing to murder to cover up their sexual improprieties. Each only seem to see other people as pawns to use, stepping stones towards acquiring more power and feeding their insatiable lusts. That both men get away with it for so long paints a grim painting for women in this time... And maybe in any time, as men in position of power still misbehave gravely. It's hard to read "The Long Hair of Death" as feminist, since the archetypes it employs are so embroiled in the sexual politics of 1960s Italy. (Lisabeth still can't bring herself to betray her husband, despite being horrible to her.) The scumbag men do get what's coming to them by the end, the women ultimately functioning as avatars of otherworldly justice. The message, as always, is clear: Even the powerful will face the consequences of their crimes, if it's only in death. 

This mythic story structure, of the wicked being punished by otherworldly machinations their own crimes set in action, recalls classical folklore and fairy tales. Which doesn't disguise that "The Long Hair of Death's" plot is basically a hodgepodge of the other gothic horror flicks Steele had starred in before this. Like in "Black Sunday," Steele had a duel role as both a virginal victim and a scheming seductress from the other side. The film features a sequence of a corpse regenerating and crawling out of its grave that is clearly reminiscent of Bava's classic. The opening burning at the stake scene is also indebted to that seminal film. Like Margheriti's earlier "Castle of Blood," Steele is one half of a pair of mysterious sisters. As in "The Horrible Dr. Hichcock," a young woman being gaslit by her evil husband is a plot point. Like "The Ghost," Steele gets to be part of the conniving couple. The story blending human horrors with the supernatural does distinguish it a little bit. Yet, ultimately, "The Long Hair of Death" doesn't deter the presumption that most of Steele's movies are blatantly imitative of each other. (And would continue to be, as the movies Steele made after this one also features many of these ideas.)

A derivative plot is almost besides the point though. "The Long Hair of Death," like so many of the Italian gothic chillers of this time, is thick with ambiance. Riccardo Pallottini's black-and-white cinematography is thick with foreboding. Though lacking the foggy atmosphere of Margheriti's "Castle of Blood," the film still gets the most out of its deep shadows, dusty hallways, and moldering crypts. A sequence showing how the plague has torn apart the village is easily the most dream-like, shadowy sequence in the movie. The film was mostly shot in an actual medieval castle – Castello Massimo in the Roman province of Arsoli – which no doubt added to the movie's foreboding feeling. There are plenty of memorable visuals here. Such as a corpse seemingly squirming to life, from being plump with rats. To the climatic uses of an effigy of death, which graces most of the poster. 

Naturally, Barbara Steele is fantastic in the film. Despite her actual voice being (badly) dubbed over, her chilling and captivating gaze breaks through all language barriers. Steele's one-of-a-kind screen presence could simply elevate a dusty old ghost story like this with ease. Halina Zalewska is also strikingly gorgeous as the more innocent Lisabeth. George Ardisson and Giuliano Raffaelli are both suitably despicable as Kurt and the Count. While the pacing sags a little bit in the middle, the strength of "The Long Hair of Death's" prologue and climax are enough to easily recommend it to fans of this particular subgenre. It's neither Steele's strongest nor weakest film but will surely satisfy any of her fans. [7/10]

Climax!: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

In August of 1954, CBS ended “Suspense,” an anthology designed to thrill and excite, often based on well-known stories and starring recognizable faces. In October of 1954, CBS began airing “Climax!,” an anthology designed to thrill and excite, often based on well-known stories and starring recognizable faces. The series did not focus solely on macabre stories – the most famous episode is “Casino Royale,” giving us the first on-screen depiction of James Bond – but it did feature horror stories sometimes. Such as probably the second most famous episode, a version of “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” Aside from the notoriety of the source material, the episode is an early screenwriting credit of Gore Videl. 

Videl condensed Robert Louis Stevenson's novella somewhat to be confined largely to two different sets, since “Climax!” was broadcast live. The biggest change made to the source material is the beginning, with Mr. Hyde being shot dead by the police in Dr. Jekyll's lab. His personal journal is then read, the story being told via flashback. Michael Rennie, of “Michael Rennie was ill” fame, plays the title part. Cedric Hardwicke appears as Utterson, the doctor's confidant. Mary Sinclair plays the unnamed barmaid – the script obliquely clarifies that she's not a prostitute – that Hyde becomes obsessed with. The episode limits Hyde's wicked acts to harassing that poor girl, picking fights in the bar, and eventually murdering someone. Still, the spirit of the novella is there. Considering how wildly off the mark cinematic “Jekyll and Hydes” tend to go, this one earns points for sort-of sticking to the text. 

When judged on its own merits, this “Jekyll and Hyde” is fairly entertaining. Rennie is no Fredric March but gives a solid performance. The moment when Jekyll looses control over his transformation, and he signals to Sinclair that he's Hyde now through only a change of expression, is a highlight. The make-up used to create Hyde is underwhelming. Rennie is given a unibrow, a mole, some polish on his face, and slaps on an unflattering whig. The sequence when he first takes the potion remains interesting. The camera starts to jostle side to side and there's a really cool shot of the walls bubbling and pulsating. 

Being an example of early, live television, there's a few noticeable slip-ups. Rennie flubs a line in one of his first scenes. A stage hand is seen pulling a curtain closed at one point. Of course, like a lot of shows from this era, “Climax!” also had a corporate sponsor. That would be Chrysler Motors. A lengthy segment is devoted to host William Lundigan showing off some new cars. I don't know how any vintage TV shows managed to build any suspense with required moments like that. Still, on the long list of “Jekyll and Hyde” adaptations, this is a sturdy one. It stands better on its own, and less as a novelty, compared to many of the other really old TV episodes I've watched. [7/10]

Chucky: There Will Be Blood

Chucky might have bit the dust in the previous episode but “Chucky: The Series” is far from done. “There Will Be Blood” has the spirit of Charles Lee Ray arriving in the afterlife, which takes the form of the White House. He meets with Damballah himself, who appears to Chucky: The Man as Chucky: The Doll. On account of his audacity for murdering a president, the god gives the serial killer one more chance. In the corporeal White House, Warren Pryce prepares a cover-up that will officially kill off President Collins and put the vice president in control. Pryce also orders Jake, Lexy, Devon, and Grant locked up. Experts in the paranormal arrive at the White House to investigate. The séance they perform only gives Chucky's ghost a chance to cause more chaos, Jake coming up with a crazy scheme to stop the serial killer once and for all. Meanwhile, in Texas, Tiffany/Jennifer Tilly's plan to avoid execution goes awry and she faces down lethal injection.

Considering how enjoyably nuts “Chucky” has gotten this season, I'm happy that that show puts a creatively bent take on the concept of the afterlife. Previous victims reappearing, their injuries intact, in a version of the White House inhabited by famous ghosts and decorated with the doll's visage is something else. Hearing Chucky's immediately recognizable voice come out of Brad Dourif's actual flesh-and-blood body is a bit disorientating, I'll admit. It is a delight to see the beloved character actor embodying Charles Lee Ray for the first time in years. Having him play against the doll, Damballah acting as a distracted CEO in plastic form, is such a weird, fun scene. 

That opening sequence is so much fun that “There Will Be Blood” never quite tops it. It certainly tries, though. The title is lived up to, when Ray's ghost fills an elevator entirely with blood. The séance is most fun for the way Dourif fucks with the mediums. “Chucky” certainly gets the most of its access to profanity in this episode. I don't dislike the subplot about Pryce using the presidential double to instill a leader he can control in the Oval Office. However, it does feel like a distraction from what's most interesting in this episode. How all of that plays out can't help but feel like “Chucky” hastily clipping away at subplots as it pulls into the final act of season three. This is certainly an episode whose last few minutes exist to set-up the season finale, meaning it's not as satisfying as some of the better installments from season three.

“There Will Be Blood” is notable for another reason. The episode is largely without a musical score. This gives the hour a much more somber, introspective tone. That is especially apparent in the scenes involving Tiffany Valentine heading towards death row. The climatic moment there – I'm reluctant to assume it'll be Jennifer Tilly's last involvement with this franchise – does generate some pathos. This is an unusually downbeat episode of a season that's been quite comedic so far. The more chaotic, violent set-pieces feel more fatalistic than splatsticky. It's still a fairly unique installment in a season that has continuously swung for the fences. I'm excited to see how it'll be wrapped up next time. [7/10]