Halloween 2024: October 22nd

Diablo Rojo PTY (2019)

The genesis of this year's Horror Around the World series began a few years back, when I randomly decided to select a horror movie from every country that has made one. The list is probably longer than you'd guess. It would seem, once a truly independent cinematic tradition begins in a country, it's only a matter of time before monsters or shadows emerge. I would like to think this is because there's something universal about the need to be scared, to confront the dark side. That horror is typically cheap to produce and has wide commercial appeal is probably a bigger factor. Either way, a lot of countries have produced their first horror films in the last ten years. If the list of Panamanian films on Wikipedia is anything to go by, the Southern most stretch of Central America wouldn't begin to regularly produce films until about twenty years ago. More motion pictures have been made in Panama in the last decade than in all the proceeding ones. In 2019, somebody finally set out to make what has been trumpeted as Panama's first horror movie, "Diablo Rojo PTY." 

Miguel drives a Diablo Rojo – colorfully decorated and independently owned buses that serve the lesser metropolitan areas of Panama – with Teo acting as his el secretario. The two struggle to make a living as the local authorities put more pressure on the bus owners. After a night of drinking, Miguel is kissed by a strange young woman. Afterwards, the bus is pulled over by two cops after nearly crashing into a spectre of the same girl. A monster appears and mangles one of the cop's hands, forcing the party to flee deeper into the Chiriqui jungle. They continue to be pursued and haunted by a band of infant-devouring brujas. After the bus runs out of gas, the quartet take shelter in a church. There, Miguel discovers he has a personal connection to the priest, as well as the otherworldly girl that is after him. The deeper into the jungle they go, the more the group is forced to confront the witches and other strange forces they summon. 

I suppose the one thing I've been looking for from all the international productions I've been watching this month is, simply, specificity. I want to see films that reflect the cultures they were made in, that gives me a distinct flavor of what makes, say, Panamanian cinema different from that seen in neighboring countries. What ever flaws "Diablo Rojo PTY" has, it certainly delivers on that promise. This is a movie steeped in the folklore of the area. The story freely mixes together several distinct urban legends. The persistent bruja, maybe the primary boogie-woman of Latin American culture, are the central antagonists. This is combined with the story of La Tuliviejai, a local variant of the La Llorona archetype that is also a hideous bird woman. The film also incorporates stories of the indigenous Guaymí tribe being cannibals and the entire Chiriqui jungle being cursed. (There's also a shout-out to the cadejo, the hooved spirit dogs spoken of all throughout Central America.) At times, "Diablo Rojo PTY" feels a bit like an anthology film made to showcase the ghost tales of the area that instead weaved the different figures into one narrative. This hasty fusion is, at times, awkward and makes the film feel a bit distracted. Especially during the cannibal scenes or the flashbacks establishing La Tuliviejai's backstory. However, the characters often introduce these concepts via childhood stories or almost forgotten memories. In other words, they speak of these tales as a verbal tradition, exactly how legends of this sort have always spread. It adds up to make "Diablo Rojo PTY" feel like a celebration of the traditional monster stories of Panama. 

While "Diablo Rojo PTY" is primarily a love letter to the ghost stories of the region, directors Sol Moreno and J. Oskura Nájera are clearly aware of other horror trademarks. The film has a picturesque musical score clearly meant to invoke an older cinematic era. The soundtrack incorporated the refrain from Berlioz' "Dreams of a Witch's Sabbath" while the melodic opening theme seems inspired by "Cannibal Holocaust." That film can also be seen in the cannibal sequence while the ending pantomimes "Carrie's" final jump-scare. Moreno and Nájera's work isn't wholly referential though. The script draws on the construction of horror classics because they are economical and sturdy. There are five heroes here, each in archetypal roles: The priest, the mentor, the young stoner, the cop, and the load. Despite the simplicity of these roles – and the briefness of the film's 78 minute runtime – enough characteristics are given to each of these guys to make them distinct. Moreover, the film adopts a classical siege movie structure. The first third has the heroes hiding in their bus, beset by the witches outside. Romero and Fulci are clear influences once they arrive at the church, the inhuman threats gathering outside. The climax removes all protection, leaving the survivors alone in the jungle with the entities that seek to kill them. It's a time-tested approach and one that keeps "Diablo Rojo PTY" balanced and moving forward despite its short length. 

The film was clearly a low budget production, which is another reason while it was surely limited to only a few locations. Sometimes, this holds the movie back a little. A bus crash isn't very well orchestrated. Terrible looking CGI muzzle flashes appear any time someone fires a gun, among some other questionable digital effects. However, the special effects are largely practical and charming. The central monster appears as a stretching, pulsating rubber beast that looks neat. The gory spectacle is mostly well-done and directed , with at least one extremely creative application of a machete. A moment where the witches do what witches are often said to do in folklore is genuinely quite unnerving. Not all the exploding heads look great but clearly every cent spent on fake blood and latex appliances is right up there on screen. "Diablo Rojo PTY" radiates with a scrappy energy comparable that recalls the do-it-yourself spirit of Raimi and Romero. The film finds novel ways to deploy its flashier effects – as evident in the clever finale – while showing an obvious love for the art and skill shown on-screen.

I think this might be what elevates "Diablo Rojo PTY" over a lot of other indie horror films of this time. It doesn't pack in references to established classics to show its horror fan street cred. Graphic gore isn't inserted solely to gross out the audience. Instead, the entire movie has a warm and fuzzy glow for genre history and the culture of Panama and its people. It's the cutest movie you'll see that also features a baby being eaten. You can also see this affection in the prominent role given to the diablo rojo buses, a uniquely Panamanian expression of cultural identity. In many ways, this is a simple film, humble in its goals. Its evil witches aren't much more than women in raggedy dresses with some face paint on. A few of its narrative turns are easily foreseen. However, this largely proves to be a very entertaining experience for long-time fans of the genre. If this sets a precedence for what future Panamanian horror movies might be like, things are off to a strong start. [8/10]

Beware! Children at Play (1989)

You think I would've gotten enough killer kid movies earlier in the season but I guess not... Troma Entertainment prides itself upon producing willfully offensive and transgressive movies. The studio's brand has always been outrageousness and, as time has gone on, a tongue-in-cheek approach to violence and as many controversial topics as possible. This includes a taboo that can still ruffle feathers today, even among the hardened audience of horror-obsessed weirdos. I'm talking about kids getting killed on-screen. The studio did a flick about zombie pre-adolescents early in the eighties with "The Children." The company would handle a similar subject at the close of the decade too, when they acquired Mik Cribben's Z-budget splatter fest, "Beware! Children at Play." Lloyd Kaufman has referred to it as the most controversial title in the company's history, which was surely no easy feat from the studio that brought us "Killer Condom," "Fertilize the Blaspheming Bombshell," and "Dumpster Baby." Time for me to judge for myself. 

In the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, an English professor goes camping with his young son. The man gets his leg caught in a bear trap and slowly dies, his boy forced to cannibalize his father's body to survive. Ten years later, author John DeWolfe, his wife Julia, and their little daughter Kara are driving through the same forest on the way to see a relative. Kids have been disappearing around town lately. It turns out the boy, now calling himself Grendel, has grown into a cannibalistic cult leader. He's been abducting other kids and brainwashing them to partake in his parent killing and eating rituals. After Kara is taken, John takes it upon himself to get to the bottom of this before the religious town folks take brutal, vigilante justice against the homicidal young'uns. 

Troma's output is not known for having especially literary screenplays, more so among the titles they've merely acquired instead of producing in-house. Their scripts typically feature more four letter words and bodily functions than references to classical literature. This is not the case with "Beware! Children at Play." The film is unexpectedly dialogue heavy, with numerous call-outs to intellectual subject matters. "Beowulf" is a reoccurring motif, what with the killer kid calling himself Grendel and speaking in quasi-Olde English rhyming. (Somehow, this is not the sole Troma release to shout-out the ancient text.) John's wife is a literature professor, which leads to more discussion of this subject and the history of the Anglo-Saxon language. Early in the film, the parents meet a shyster Bible salesman, which results in a lengthy conversation about scripture that also sets up numerous ideas later on. John is a writer of sensationalist books about the paranormal, several conversations about the nature and intent of such topics following. The killer kids are linked to the Pine Barren's history of backwoods throwbacks as well. The dialogue is rather stylized, the characters talking in long and intricate paragraphs. At first, it's surprising, maybe somewhat endearing. By the end, it is tiresome, as if the movie is trying to prove over and over again that this isn't merely a dumb horror flick. 

What makes the high-minded script all the more disorientating is that the talent displayed in front of and behind the camera does not match these academic pretensions. As is normal for the kind of low-budget schlock Troma puts out, the acting in "Beware! Children at Play" is stilted, to say the least. The cast of balding, middle-age men and their wives croak their way through the elaborate dialogue, feeling at times like they are reading from cue cards. I figured the child actors would give awkward performances but the adults are all on strictly community theater levels as well. Mik Cribben's direction also falls far short of his literary screenplay. Take, for example, the first post-flashback scene. John and his wife talk while driving their car, the camera holding on that one angle until they're done. The talk with the salesman that follows is mostly composed of similarly stationary shots of the actors talking. This continues through the film's many dialogue driven scenes. That does not change when the murderous kiddies are attacking the heroes, the mom stopping in suspended horror to monologue blankly while killer kindergartners are swarming her. It does not make for especially compelling filmmaking. 

The droll writing and flat visuals all seem at odds with "Beware! Children at Play" operating as an outrageous exploitation movie. As you'd expect from a Troma release, the gore effects are gruesome but crude. Showing the obvious "Children of the Corn" influence, a grown adult is slashed in half at the waist and a woman is strung up like a scarecrow while rats eat her face. There's lots of rubber bodies being cut open and raw organs being yanked out. There's some teenager-on-adult sexual assault too, which would probably be the most distasteful scene if it wasn't presented so blankly. This is not why "Beware! Children at Play" is mildly notorious though. That reputation comes from the nihilistic finale where the town folks slaughter the shantytown of psychotic kids. Turns out club-wielding, pint-sized barbarians are no match for a white trash militia with lots of guns. While the brain splatter and barrage of squibs are technically the film's most impressive special effects – standing alongside the most half-assed machete stabbing I've seen recently – they are performed with the same halting fashion as everything else in the film. For example, there's a weird pause before a big head shot. I suppose the bluntness of this conclusion is surprising. I'm not surprised this climax is the only element of the film that is remembered much. However, if not for children being the recipients of these gory acts, none of these effects would be shocking. It's nothing we haven't seen in a hundred low budget zombie pictures. 

Considering "Beware! Children at Play" is rather proud and open about its New Jersey setting, and how many obvious Jersey accents can be heard among the cast, it makes sense that Troma would pick this up. I can't imagine anyone else releasing a movie like this in 1989. Whatever infamy the film might have, it clearly wasn't enough to create a lasting directorial career for Mik Cribben. He would find more work as a camera operator and sound mixer after this but never directed another film again. He's done a little cinematography too, which explains the one or two nice looking shots in the movie when the camera actually bothers moving. (The restoration on the recent Vinegar Syndrome release looks far better than a film like this probably deserves.) I suppose "Beware! Children at Play" mixing literary references with crude gore and low-budget filmmaking makes the film somewhat unique among the Troma library. Or maybe not, considering "Tromeo & Juliet" and "Shakespeare's Shitshow" exist. There's some mild gasps or chuckles to be had here but it's mostly a lurching, if unusual, clunker. [5/10]

Room 104: Mr. Mulvahill

What I like the most about "Room 104" is how the stripped-down quality of its premise – every episode is set in the same motel room and anything can happen there – forces a focus on doing a lot with a little: Telling a story in a plain setting cinematically, getting strong performances out of the actors, and creating a script that surprises the viewer. This is very apparent in "Mr. Mulvahill." The episode follows middle-aged trumpet player, Jim. He invites his third grade music teacher, Mr. Mulvahill, to meet him in this hotel room so he can tell him how he changed his life. What starts out as innocent nostalgia soon reveals a darker secret, as it becomes clear that Jim is unwell and Mr. Mulvahill is not all he appears to be. Before too long, the old man is tied to a chair and Jim is threatening his life. 

On the surface, it's not too hard to figure out what "Mr. Mulvahill" is really about. After exchanging pleasantries and telling a sweet story about how the old man introduced him to Beethoven, Jim presses his teacher to admit something. To recount how he remembers what happened next on that day, all those years ago, when Jim was only a lad. As the former student reveals more of his life – how the incident of that day has haunted him and led to a history of therapist visits, medication, keeping secrets, and a sense of worthlessness – the viewer can fill in the blanks. Mr. Mulvahill is a sexual predator and Jim is his victim. That act of violation has turned Jim into a depressed, struggling adult, an unstable man-child forever trapped in the moment of that trauma. When the story turns violent, when Jim ties Mr. Mulvahill to a chair and threatens to bash his brains in with a baseball bat unless he admits the truth, you can't help but assume that this is a story of revenge, consequences, and the lingering psychic damage of childhood abuse. 

That alone probably would've been enough to make "Mr. Mulvahill" a tense, challenging half-hour of television. However, the episode is also not about childhood sex abuse, as Jim reveals that something much more improbable happened that day. Now, you can look at this as a cop-out. As character actor-turned-director Ross Partridge and writer Mark Duplass exploitatively using the all-too-common terror of childhood sexual abuse to set up a supernatural twist. To lend a more whimsical story gravity by mirroring the effects of a very serious, real world horror. I think "Mr. Mulvahill" does something interesting with this however. The ending still has the teacher validating what happened to Jim that day, giving him some sense of catharsis. If the entire thing is a metaphor, then it's hard not to see that conclusion as the boy getting revenge on his abuser. However, pinning the story around something impossible forces us to ask difficult questions about the subjectivity of truth, of capital punishment's role as justice. Moreover, this is twisting screenwriting that draws us further into the material. Is Jim a nut? Is Mr. Mulvahill innocent? It's compelling. 

I've never seen "The Office" but, based on his acting in films like "Super" and "The Boy," I'm a big fan of Rainn Wilson as a character actor who specializes in playing unhinged rejects and misfits. As Jim, Wilson uses his talent for childlike enthusiasm to create a man who is hopelessly stuck on his elementary years. As the material grows darker, Wilson displays a disquieting nervousness while still rooting Jim's madness in very real, easily understood issues. Frank Birney, near the end of a long career in film and television, plays the titular captive as someone who seems innocent... With the right amount of uncertainty in his voice and eyes, to make us wonder if he's as wicked as Jim thinks he is. That ambiguity allows "Mr. Mulvahill" to occupy the same place as other moral mindfucks like "Hard Candy," getting at the truth of a difficult subject by coaching it in metaphor and breakneck, pulp thrills. [8/10]

The Elvira Show (1993)

Cassandra Peterson's Elvira alter-ego has, by any traditional measure, been enormously successful. She's an internationally recognized sex symbol, probably the most iconic of all horror hosts, a perennial Halloween costume favorite, the face of several popular ad campaigns, and been slapped on every piece of merchandise imaginable. Strangely though, Elvira has never quite crossed over with the biggest narrative media. Though a beloved cult classic now, her first movie flopped at the time and its long delayed follow-up barely played in theaters. In 1993, Peterson would star in a pilot for a sitcom based around the beloved character. It was well received by test audiences but, supposedly, the head of the network canned it because Elvira's neckline was too low. "The Elvira Show" pilot now circulates online, where it remains a tantalizing what-if for fans of the Mistress of the Dark. 

Set in Peterson's childhood home of Manhattan, Kansas, the pilot sees Elvira working as a fortune teller and witch, selling love potions of debatable quality. She is kept company by her mischievous aunt Minerva and a talking black cat named Renfield. A hunky man named Chip comes into the shop and Elvira is immediately smitten. She doesn't know that Chip is an undercover cop sent to investigate her shop after a love potion supposedly sent a customer to the emergency room. Meanwhile, Elvira is also paid a visit by Paige, her teenage niece who has been raised by nuns. Elvira and Minerva attempt to hide their witchy ways from the wholesome youth.

In keeping with the bawdy puns the hostess usually slings, "The Elvira Show" is impressively horny at times. Every interaction she has with Chip is laced with double entendres, including a surprisingly explicit reference to erectile dysfunction. Jokes about Elvira's boobs and ravenous appetite are always amusing. However, Peterson has excellent comedic timing in general. Her reaction to her romantic rival at the cop filled climax or Minvera's sarcastic comebacks genuinely got me belly laughing. The pilot also embraces the witch element to a surprising degree. Chip ends up frozen and then floating due to some mishaps, which Elvira and Minerva have to cover up from the impressionable Paige, a solid sitcom shenanigan.

Phoebe Augustine – "Twin Peaks'" Ronette Pulaski – makes for a cute counterpart to the randy older ladies. Katherine Helmond also has the right attitude as Minerva. The pilot was directed by the fittingly named Peter Bonerz, who previously directed "Police Academy 6" and many nineties sitcoms. The potion shop set looks fun but the police station seems right out of "Murphy Brown," which Bonerz directed 96 episodes of. At first I was skeptical if an entire season could have sprung from this half-hour presentation but the decision to do away with the most contrived sitcom element – Elvira keeping her witchy abilities away from Paige – are dismissed by the end. Frequent collaborator Jon Paragon provides the voice of Renfield the cat, one of the sillier elements. I recall an interview where Peterson wondered if ABC's "Sabrina the Teenage Witch," which debuted shortly afterwards, didn't rip "The Elvira Show" off a little. Salem the cat didn't gain his snarky voice until that show, so Peterson might have a point. If "Elvira" had gone to series, it probably would've held up better than the dopier "Sabrina." I know I would've loved a weekly spooky, silly treat as a kid, though the naughty puns surely would've gone over my youthful head. Ah, what might have been... Either way, "The Elvira Show" is a sturdy laugh generator and well worth seeking out for fans. [7/10]