Halloween 2024: October 21st

The Lift (1983)

De Lift

Before the eighties, there wasn't much of a tradition of Dutch horror movies. A handful of examples exists, such as a 1939 feature with the hilarious title of “De Spooktrein,” but none are more than obscure. Not that the Netherlands were especially well known for horror films after the eighties either. However, one man has sought to change that. After gaining recognition for his Golden Earring music videos, the impressively named Dick Maas would gift Holland's cinemas with “De Lift.” He has, in the decades since, directed several other horror pictures – the action/slasher hybrid “Amsterdamned,” the murderous Sinterklaas story “Saint,” a killer lion flick – becoming more-or-less the only filmmaker in the land of windmills and tulip fever specializing in the gory stuff. Let's go back to “The Lift” for a minute though and considering its status, not only as one of the rare Dutch genre films, but as a movie about the unlikely subject of an elevator that gains a thirst for blood. Yep, this is a killer elevator movie. Let us investigate further, shall we?

After a high rise in Amsterdam is struck by lightning, a quartet of drunken high-rollers nearly suffocate to death after the elevator becomes stuck and the A/C turns off. This begins a series of bizarre accidents around the elevator shafts, including a blind man falling to his death and a night watchman being decapitated by the door. Elevator repairman Felix Adelaar investigates but finds nothing unusual. He soon forms a partnership with a reporter named Mieke, much to the chagrin of Felix's wife. The two dig deeper into the mystery of the elevator, uncovering disturbing evidence. Such as the elevator's former designer going mad or a connection to microprocessor corporation Rising Sun. The deaths continue and Felix soon has to take matters into his own hands, facing down the deadly lift on his own.

There have been a few horror movies set in elevators made over the years – such as “Down,” that I looked at yesterday – but most of them capitalize on the claustrophobic tightness of elevators as settings. “The Lift,” on the other hand, seeks to make the box shaped form of transportation the source of fear itself. This is, on its surface, a silly idea. Impressively, Maas' screenplay manages to make a compelling mystery out of this goofball premise. The film holds off on revealing the exact nature of the killer elevator for as long as possible. Is it the result of the lightning bolt infusing the shaft with some supernatural awareness? Is the answer supernatural, as is hinted at throughout? Or technological in nature? As the film threatens to reveal an underwhelming answer to this question, it swings back towards a creative and bizarre solution in the final act. Moreover, watching Felix and Mieke dig up clues and investigate possible leads proves to be surprisingly fun, the characters as curious about what's going on as the viewer is.

Felix is played by Huub Stapel, who would star in Maas' “Amsterdamned” as well. In that film he played a single father. In this one, he's a family man, married to his wife and with two young kids. The scenes of him interacting with his son and young daughter, such as a precious discussion around the breakfast table or repairing his son's favorite toy, endears him to the audience. However, the protagonist's plot revolves around his wife eventually becoming convinced he's having an affair with Mieke, the reporter. There's certainly some chemistry between them but their relationship never escalates to actual romance. Which makes his wife's eventual reaction seem wholly unreasonable. That “The Lift” bends towards such an unconvincing subplot about supposed infidelity and a marriage falling apart is disappointing, based on how charming the early scenes are. Ultimately, this subplot is never truly resolved, making it feel like a weird inclusion in a movie about a murderous elevator. 

If the idea of a self-aware elevator developing an appetite for murder seems ridiculous, “De Lift” is all too aware of this as well. The film operates with a straight face but there's more than enough clues to suggest we aren't suppose to take this unlikely premise too seriously. Most of the death scenes play out as sick jokes. Especially the extended sequence involving a blind man or the absurdist set piece with the night watchman getting his head stuck in the door. The elements of comedy creep more into the film as it goes on, most notably in a delightfully silly moment where a janitor with a floor buffers dances around. I don't know if “The Lift” achieves its goal of making a simple elevator into a source of fear. However, the tongue-in-cheek approach allows the movie to be in on its own joke, operating as if things are played straight while winking enough at the audience to let us know it realizes how preposterous this premise is. 

It adds up to a decently thrilling climax before the movie ends on a nicely ridiculous final image. “The Lift” has a goofy, blooping synth score but quite nice cinematography from Marc Felperlaan. The red doors of the elevator and dark blue coloration of the shaft go a long ways, while the angular points of the elevator lobby are well shot throughout. Maas' sole expedition to America would involve him filming an English language remake of this one, also entitled “Down.” No word if that's one as good as the original. Quite silly throughout and lacking a wholly balanced screenplay, “The Lift” does prove to be a decently entertaining crossover between horror, sci-fi, and conspiracy thriller. Not bad! “The Lift” is certainly the best Dutch killer elevator movie I've seen, that's for sure. [7/10]

The Werewolf of Washington (1973)

You can almost always tell. Some films originate as ideas first, a thought that enters a writer's head and won't leave them alone until they've let it grow into a full-blown story, at which point they have no choice but to put it to paper. Other stories, however, begin as a title first, a lurid combination of words that you can't help but spin around in your brain, working backwards from there to build a larger narrative around it. How the completed project turns out is dependent entirely on the talent involved, though one is tempted to think of the former as the more intrinsically worthwhile process. I bring this up because 1973's "The Werewolf of Washington" is, I'm fairly confident in saying, an example of the second kind of movie. The alliteration is irresistible and the idea of a werewolf, running amok in the nation's capitol, has a certain pulpy appeal to it. Funny enough, the film – the second feature from Milton Moses Ginsberg, previously of early found footage movie "Coming Apart" – was not successful upon first release and distributors retitled it "Werewolf at Midnight." The though process being that the perceived political content might have turned perspective audiences off. By most accounts, people avoided the movie because it's not very good. However, "The Werewolf of Washington's" quasi-public domain status would lead to it being regularly scheduled on late night horror host programs. Such as "Movie Macabre with Elvira," which is why I'm writing about it now. 

Jack Whittier is the press secretary for the President of the United States of America. He's also, secretly, carrying on an affair with the president's daughter. While dispatched to Hungary, he is attacked by a wolf. Beating the creature to death with a silver-topped cane, he's stunned to see the canine transform into a man. Afterwards, the victim's Roma mother appears to Jack and informs he now carries the curse of the werewolf. Incredulous at first, Jack is startled to see the sign of the pentagram appearing on people's hands around him. As the full moon rises in D.C., he does indeed transform into a hairy, bloodthirsty monster. Jack tries to convince his professional and political allies of what is happening but they are hard pressed to believe him. As the reports of a man-beast and the killings continue, however, they have to face the truth that a werewolf roams the streets of Washington. 

Politics is a deathly serious, though frequently ridiculously, business. Werewolves, meanwhile, are a frequently ridiculous concept that is only deathly serious in the movies, usually. Given that, it's unsurprising that "The Werewolf of Washington" is going for laughs as often as it does scares. The film, supposedly, is mocking the then-current Nixon administration. Having not lived through that time period, I can't say I see many similarities here between Richard Milhouse Nixon and the unnamed, mildly buffoonish president shown here. The truth is Ginsberg's script is clearly going for laughs but seems unable to land the punchline every time. The scenarios are obviously farcical. A blustering commander attempts to blame the murders on a random black couple. Jack attempts to hide a transformation from the president while the two are bowling. While arguing with a friend in a public bathroom, Jack is mistaken for a homosexual. None of these are great jokes but, with the right delivery, some laughs could have been produced from them. Instead, "The Werewolf of Washington" operates in a strictly graceless and stilted fashion, its attempts at humor coming off as alternatingly too exaggerated or utterly flat. 

I believe this is the fault more of the writing than the performers. "Werewolf of Washington" is a starring role for Dean Stockwell. His opening narration, delivered over a static shot of the full moon, made me fear Stockwell would be operating in the heavily stoned, monotone delivery he adopted in "The Dunwich Horror." Luckily, Stockwell is giving a livelier performance throughout the film than that. During its better moments, he brings a nervous, neurotic energy to the part that is mildly entertaining. The script has him playing both the straight man – unbelieving of what is happening to him – and the clown, as he's the one acting crazy while everyone around him is unawares. While Stockwell could ham it up with the best of them and certainly has skill as a physical comedian, he's ultimately set adrift by the screenplay. "Werewolf of Washington" is clearly beholden to "The Wolf Man," with a nearly identical inciting incident and incorporating visions of the pentagram into its mythology. The script eventually attempts to have Jack be a Larry Talbot like tragic hero. This jives badly with the slapstick elements, Stockwell uncertain of which note to play, so neither element is effective.

That "Werewolf of Washington" completely flops as a comedy is a bummer. When taken as a horror film, it's certainly not the worst werewolf movie I've seen. Further taking its cue from "The Wolf Man," Jack's lycanthrope form is an upright man with a hairy face, furry claws, and a soft snoot. The film further pays homage to the Universal classic with similar transformation sequences, that center in on Stockwell's face as he slowly changes. Once the actual werewolf action begins, the film often adopts weird angles or distorted points-of-view. Which are, if nothing else, interesting to look. The first wolf killing has a lady shrinking away in fright down a shadowy storefront, which is a decent effect. A later sequence involves a flipped over telephone booth, a decent enough stunt. The only time the movie actually made me laugh is when the werewolf goes for a ride on the roof of a car, the driver somehow unawares, which is a nicely silly visual gag. I suppose what I'm saying is that "Werewolf of Washington" totally whiffs it as a political satire or horror/comedy but it might have made for an okay creature feature, if that has been given precedence. 

The idea of fusing Nixon-era paranoia with wolfman movie thrills might have been valid. The finale suggests a government coverup of the monstrous shenanigans. Leaning more into the conspiracy angle probably would've been more interesting than the limp attempts at political satire. There's nothing sadder than an unfunny comedy and the lack of wit or zest results in "Werewolf of Washington" being a snore more often than not. I guess this time the werewolf went to Washington is mildly more entertaining than that time Billy Jack went to Washington, though this movie certainly would've been improved by someone being tossed through a glass door. As for the "Movie Macabre" presentation, it does feature Elvira cracking a handful of mildly amusing political puns. As well as a sequence of her tied to a chair with some chains, if, uh, you're into that kind of thing. A director's cut was assembled on Blu-Ray shortly before Ginsberg passed away. There's also a comedic redubbing of the film. It's hard to imagine either approach improving this one too much though. [5/10]

Bobcat Goldthwaits' Misfits and Monsters: Face in the Car Lot

Launched in the nineties, Court TV was a cable network devoted to live broadcast of actual courtroom proceedings. The network had a brief burst of popularity during the national obsession with the OJ Simpson trial but the extremely niche programming soon failed to duplicate those ratings. By the end of the century, Court TV started showing reruns of "Cops" and "Forensic Files." In 2007, the channel was relaunched as "TruTV," with the focus entirely on reality television. As cable has continued to decay in the last decade, the network would shift its focus again to comedy, due to the popularity of "Impractical Jokers." Probably the weirdest show to air on this totally irrelevant network during this time was "Bobcat Goldthwait's Misfits & Monsters," a horror/comedy anthology series created by the distinctively voiced stand-up comic-turned-filmmaker. Because my brain is like a fishnet for the most inessential pop culture detritus – and because I actually am a fan of Bobcat as a director – I've been meaning to check out the show for the last six years. 

The second episode of "Misfits & Monsters" is "Face in the Car Lot." During the mid-seventies, political campaigner "Bull" Bidwell decides that extremely popular used car salesman "Swell" Del Wainwright could become president. Wainwright's loud mouthed opinions, politically incorrect behavior, and fear-mongering about nebulous threats to American life make him a sensation overnight. His many scandals only seem to make him more popular. Reporter Regina Bailey is disgusted by Wainwright and determined to bring him down. That's when she receives an unlikely lead from a woman claiming to be a vampire: She says Del is a werewolf and provides proof, in the form of an unconvincing photograph. As improbable as this seems, it's true. Del Wainwright really is a werewolf and once ate a little kid. But can Regina get anyone to believe it?

As the United States faces down the all-too-likely probability of a second Trump presidency, you can't help but look back at the many "How Could This Happen?" think-pieces that appeared in the aftermath of the first one with grim bemusement. "Face in the Car Lot" is obviously about Trump. Goldthwait, who wrote and directed, sets the story in the seventies probably as a statement on how there's nothing especially unique to today about Trump's brand of huckstery populism. Making the Trump stand-in a sleazy used car salesman makes the point clear: Americans will always be taken in by conmen who "tells it like it is." Goldthwait, at the very least, is not doing melodramatic hand-wringing about how it came to this. Upon meeting Del, "Bull" succinctly outlines his platform as being built upon meaningless fear-mongering, vulgarian wish fulfilment, and nods towards a vague and bygone golden age. Goldthwait's viewpoint is ultimately downbeat and nihilistic. The twist ending of "Face in the Car Lot" is not exactly hard to predict. I don't think Trump being revealed as a child-eating werewolf would have changed the outcome of the 2016 election any either. Ultimately, the characters realize people will only believe what they want, that the truth doesn't matter, and that there's nothing the common man can do about it. I don't know if I agree entirely but I can certainly relate to that mindset. 

As political satire, "Face in the Car Lot" is defeatist and obvious, not at all an unnecessary reactions to the state of the world. How does it rank as a horror/comedy? The monster shenanigans are extremely goofy, with the vampire lady being an especially ridiculous character. There's a running gag that everyone dismisses the werewolf photo as being a dog standing on its hind legs. I was really hoping the show would follow through on that and have Del's werewolf form actually look like that. Nope, he turns into a classical snarling wolfman. 

However, as limp as the material sometimes is, the cast goes a long way towards saving it. David Koechner does a good job of invoking Trump without doing a direct impersonation, clearly making Wainwright a feckless conman while also making us understand whole voters would like it. Tara Lynne Barr has a squirmy, nerdy delivery as Regina that I like. She also has good chemistry with Tony V. and Denitra Isler as her editor and photographer. The seventies setting allows for some fun cinematography, especially in the trashy TV commercial for Del's car lots. There's some minor chuckles to be had here but it's a little too goofy to work for me. As for TruTV, weird programming like this did nothing to change its status. "Misfits & Monsters" was canceled after one, eight episode season and now TruTV is pivoting towards sports. Maybe this show would've been better if Bobcat acted as an onscreen horror host, a screechy Rod Serling. [6/10]

A Bitter Message of Hopeless Grief (1988)

In my youth, I saw a TV special about robots that featured clips from a Survival Research Laboratories performance. Everything else about that program has slipped from my memory but I'll never forget Survival Research Laboratories. Founded in the late seventies by Mark Pauline, SRL constructs elaborate machines that slings wood through the air like missiles, spout jets of fire, gnash enormous claws, run six miles an hour while wielding a knife, and generally cause as much noise and chaos as possible. Described as "socio-political satire" and "the most dangerous show on Earth," this is performance art that removes humans totally from the equation and replaces them with killer robots, sometimes combined with animal carcasses. Metal as fuck, right? Since 1984, filmmaker Jonathan Reiss has been recording SRL's shows and releasing them on VHS tapes with opaque titles like "A Scenic Harvest from the Kingdom of Pain" or "The Pleasures of Uninhibited Excess." The only time, however, that Reiss and SRL attempted to make something like a narrative film was in 1988 with the equally turbidly named "A Bitter Message of Hopeless Grief."

I say "something like a narrative film" because this thirteen minute short still resides primarily on the artsy side of things. "A Bitter Message of Hopeless Grief" follows an insect-like machine as it plows through the walls of a strange labyrinth that are decorated with writhing, half-organic creatures. With its bladed claws, the robot plucks screaming cat skeletons from the walls and devours them with its whirling gears. Another robot with crashing claws later appears as well, to crush other fleshy, corpse-like beings. Meanwhile, a mechanized cow skeleton sprays water over an open flame while another such hybrid loiters around a desolate watering hole. Eventually, the first machine encounters another whirling contraption and they fight over a smaller, trilobite-like robot. 

"A Bitter Message of Hopeless Grief" feels a bit like you are watching a nature documentary set in a post-apocalyptic facility or one of the more industrial circles of Hell. The melding of fire, grease encrusted gears, pistoning hydraulics, animal carcasses, bones, and filthy water give the impression of a dead or dying world, desolate and isolated. Though they are machines, the way the camera lingers on the servos and gears makes the robots seem alive. Their mechanical maws seem like mouths, the spindly blades like hands. When the "creatures" partake in such violent actions and inhabit this empty, cavernous world, it feels like the remnants of some world stumbling about futilely towards their own oblivion. This is a post-industrial and post-human setting, without warmth, loveless and cruel. Inevitably, the film veers towards images of death and destruction.

Now, the question must be asked: What the hell does any of it mean? Obviously, due to the role of whirling machinery and their crude mixture of dead flesh and steel, Survival Research Laboratories' creations bring themes of technology and man's relationship to it to mind. The contrast of cold, unfeeling machines that exist only to destroy with fragile, easily chopped flesh prompts thoughts about mortality and a world that devalues human effort. Watching this film in the wake of the rise of corporations hoping they can replace human creativity with AI is disheartening, showing us that a world run by robots would be hellish. "A Bitter Message of Hopeless Grief" is also a crude parody of nature, hideous machines putting on a grotesque imitation of life and death in a world that seems to be crumbling around them. Whatever you think it means, the film feels utterly alien and unlike anything else I've seen, a transmission from another world that is simultaneously chilling and fascinating. [9/10]