Halloween 2024: October 24th

Bless the Child (2000)

For some, the end of the previous millennium and the start of the next was a date heavy with portent. All four digits on the calendar rolling over for the first time in a thousand years put funny ideas in people's heads. If the world wasn't going to end through technical mishaps, surely 1999 becoming 2000 meant the end times were upon us. Hollywood, strangely enough, was willing and ready to capitalize on this apocalyptic anxiety. 1999 and 2000 saw a spat of religious themed horror movies coming from major studios, most of which had Revelation-y undertones. M-G-M released “Stigmata,” Universal put out “End of Days,” New Line picked up “Lost Souls,” and Paramount brought us “Bless the Child.” The movies that made it out before the end of the nineties did better at the box office, with the latter two flopping. I suppose the hysteria had passed by that point. Despite none of these movies being all that well regarded, I have always been morbidly curious about the latter. Especially “Bless the Child,” since it was directed by usually reliable pulp craftsman Chuck Russell and features a supporting role from the perpetually underrated Angela Bettis.  

Shortly after Christmas – and the first appearance of the Bethlehem star in the sky for a thousand years – nurse Maggie O'Conner is visited by her junkie sister, Jenna. Jenna has recently given birth to a little girl named Cody. Following an argument, she leaves her daughter with her sister. Maggie raises Cody, who quickly begins to exhibit autism symptoms as well as strange powers. Six years later, children are being abducted and murdered across the city. FBI agent John Travis investigates and believes Satanists are responsible for the killings. At the same time, Maggie begins to be pursued by members of the New Dawn Foundation, a cult started by Eric Stark. Stark has recently married Jenna and attempts becomes very interested in Maggie and Cody. The truth soon reveals itself: Stark and the New Dawn are devil worshippers, Cody is the new Messiah, and they have a mission to convert her to Satanism before Easter morning or kill her. Maggie and Travis race to save the child. 

From its first minutes, "Bless the Child" is a movie seriously lacking in subtly. A random person on a bus points out the significance of the star to Maggie in the first scene, to erase any doubt about where this story is headed. Every interaction – Maggie and Jenna arguing, a man attempting to abduct a boy, Travis introducing himself as an expert in the occult – is laced with melodrama. Cody's magical abilities are set up early, to further remove any doubt in our minds about her "specialness," one of many plot points set up in the most obvious fashion possible. This overwrought approach extends into every facet of the movie. Chuck Russell had reinvented himself as a director of effects filled blockbusters by this point, having made "The Mask" and "Eraser." This means "Bless the Child" features some elaborate action scenes. Such as a sequence where Maggie is dropped into a freeway in a car, careening off a bridge. After getting hit on the head, she also starts to have elaborate visions. This means CGI demons swoop through the air, hordes of computer generated rats swarm over a room, and a glowering PS2 style Baphomet appears before the end. The most hysterical scene involves Maggie being chased onto a subway train by a cult member, who transforms into a snarling Medusa after being thwarted. From white flashes on the screen to repeated shots of an overly spooky gargoyle, "Bless the Child" hammers every dramatic beat as repeatedly and heavily as possible. When the film ends with shootouts and big explosions, it's not exactly a surprise. 

"Bless the Child's" ham-fisted qualities extend into its subtext as well. I don't often refer to something as "propaganda" but... This movie is blatant propaganda for the Catholic Church. Cody attends a Catholic school, staffed entirely by the kindest, most angelic nuns possible. A priest appears to drop some exposition and help our heroes out. The FBI agent is a former seminary student, who is utterly convinced that Satanic cults are real and out there. A story presenting the narrative that there's a conspiracy to harm children and the Catholic Church is all that opposes it seriously rubs me the wrong way. Not that our brave Christian heroes need to do anything to save the day. Throughout the film, good samaritans appear to help Maggie and Travis out of tough situations. The implication seems to be that they are angels or direct agents of God, almost literal dei ex machina stepping down from Heaven to sap any tension from the plot. Cody, meanwhile, never seems to struggle with her Christ-like superpowers. Cody is so perfectly angelic – again, as depicted in the final scene, almost literally so – that there's never any doubt she's actually in danger from the Satanists. "Bless the Child" is based on a novel by Cathy Cash Spellman, who has written books about channeling, spiritual guidance, and the Lance of Longinus and whose website boasts a section on astrology. Meaning she's a New Age-y Christian kook and not a right wing one, which does little to make "Bless the Child" less contrived and dramatically inert. Did I mention that Cody is autistic, which is presented as going hand-in-hand with her Christ powers? That makes "Bless the Child" as straight-ahead an example of the regrettable "magical differently abled person" trope I've seen this side of Stephen King's "Dreamcatcher." 

In other words, "Bless the Child" is a glurge-filled mash-up of pro-Christian conspiracy theories, expensive but subpar special effects, and elements ripped from better horror movies. It probably should've starred Kirk Cameron and been made for several million dollars less. Instead, the movie has an inexplicably high profile cast full of recognizable faces. This was one of two projects Kim Bassinger starred in after winning an Oscar for "L.A. Confidential." The other was "I Dream of Africa," another pricey flop that hastened Bassinger's second fall from the A-list. Not to be a dick but she's terrible in this movie. Bassinger spends the entire film huffing and puffing with a soap opera worthy seriousness ever-present in her voice. The rest of the cast follow this made-for-TV level of melodrama throughout. Jimmy Smitts is a stern-faced action hero, always grimly focused on his honorable goal, as the FBI agent. Rufus Sewell is a wide-eyed supervillain as Stark, intoning gravely in every scene and never letting anyone doubt that he's pure evil. Ian Holm stops by for one scene as a wheelchair bound priest, adopting a silly accent, dropping some exposition, and hastily exiting the story. The only performance that shows a recognizable human emotion is Christina Ricci, as the runaway that alerts Maggie to the cult's activity. It's a thankless role, a walking and talking plot device, but Ricci imbues it with some honest vulnerability. As for my beloved Angela Bettis... This came right after her breakout role in "Girl, Interrupted" and the film's box office performance is probably why Bettis mostly did indie movies afterwards. Angela does what she can to make Jenna a realistic character, playing up her frailness and need for affection. Unfortunately, the script gives her little to do besides shout earnestly, be brainwashed, and look pathetic. It's a serious waste of her incredible talent. 

The only time "Bless the Child" comes to life is when Russell embraces his roots as an eighties horror director. A scene where a decapitated head tumbles off a body or someone gets stabbed in the eyes with knitting needles suggests a far more fun film could have been made from these ingredients. Russell would bounce back with "The Scorpion King" before not directing again for fourteen years, suggesting he didn't make it out of this mess unscathed. (His most recent credits are straight-to-VOD geezer teasers but maybe that upcoming "Witchboard" remake will be a return to form.) In other words, "Bless the Child" had a negative impact on the careers of nearly everyone involved. It's hard to say who should take the blame, whether it be the notoriously overreaching Bassinger or Spellman's schlocky source material. It's probably the worst of the turn-of-the-millennium Satanic panic flicks, though I'll get back to you on that after I see "Lost Souls." There's been some minor attempts to reclaim the movie as a cult movie, with Scream Factory giving it a fancy Blu-Ray release. Their ad-copy refers to the film as "a riveting supernatural thriller filled with spine-tingling chills and white-knuckle suspense" that will "thrill you from the cradle to the grave." I hope whoever wrote that got a good check for such grandiose lies, as both my cradle and grave remained unthrilled by this contrived Christploitation. [4/10]

Mr. Wrong (1986)

I've already reviewed one killer car movie this season but I suppose the question must be raised: Why are there multiple horror stories about cars that are alive, evil, or otherwise threatening? Automobiles hold a special place in the American psyche, as a commonplace sight and a right of passage. Lots of guys, in particular, are obsessed with their cars. This, however, is hardly a uniquely American phenomena. Nor a strictly masculine one. Women have been directing movies since the early days of the medium but their roles have often been downplayed, at least until recently. The niche corridors of genre filmmaking have, sometimes, been a way for women directors to establish themselves. I have no idea if this is true in New Zealand. Similarly, I don't know anything about the island nation's relationship with automobiles. These seemingly unrelated threads all meet in 1985's "Mr. Wrong," supposedly the first New Zealand film to be written, directed, and produced by a woman. That would be Gaylene Preston, who put a feminist spin on the usually male-centric scary car subgenre with this often overlooked chiller.

Meg moves out of her parents' house and gets a place with a friend. In order to further this move for independence, she buys her own vehicle. A 1962 Jaguar that she gets for a bargain. The first night she has the car, she drives to the beach and experiences a strange vision of a woman in a white gown in the back seat. A few days later, she sees the vanishing woman again after picking up a creepy male hitchhiker. The strange experiences around the car continue until Meg, by chance, sees the same woman in an old newspaper story. The spectral woman's name is Mary Carmichael, who disappeared and is presumed dead... And Meg is the new owner of Mary's car. Having a haunted Jag is bad enough but the man who killed Mary seems to have set his sights on Meg next.

If a house can be haunted, it stands to reason that a car can be haunted too. As straight-forward as that logic seems, the idea of a ghost attaching itself to a car does sound a little silly. “Mr. Wrong” does seem aware of this connotation. After coming to the conclusion that the vehicle is possessed, Meg attempts to sell the car. This leads to a somewhat farcical series of scenes in which the Jaguar dissuades potential buyers from being interested, much to Meg's frustration. However, we all have to drive, to and from work, and “Mr. Wrong” does manage to mine some minor chills from the on-its-face ridiculous idea of a ghostly car. Meg falling asleep on the beach only to be awoken by strange noise and a stranger presence is well done. In general, the visuals of driving at night – the feeling of isolation that come with that, of it being only you and the road – is where “Mr. Wrong” builds its spookiest scenes upon. If you saw a face in the rear view mirror while driving down a dark road, you'd freak the fuck out too. 

Ultimately, however, this is not a story about a malevolent ghost. The spirit of Mary unnerves Meg but means her no harm. She has something much more probable to fear than haunted motorcars: Men. “Mr. Wrong” is, by some coincidence, one of two women-directed New Zealand horror films from 1984 – the other being Melanie Read's “Trial Run" – and both have definite feminist perspective. Meg often has tense interactions with the men in her life. When she picks up the male hitchhiker, he quickly begins to ask overly personal questions, making her uncomfortable within minutes. Her roommate has a blustering boyfriend with a similar disregard for her personal space. This climaxes during a scene when he shows up drunk and nearly assaults Meg. Later on, the car actually protects Meg by honking mysteriously during a pivotal moment. That's the ultimate moral of “Mr. Wrong,” that women watch out for women when guys they can't trust are around. It's hard to take the film too seriously as a feminist text. Meg ends up forgiving Bruce, the scoundrel that tried to force a kiss on her, and needs a man to rescue her a few times. However, there's definitely something to be said for how the film invokes the common anxieties of existing as a woman in a man's world. 

Unfortunately, “Mr. Wrong” isn't the best at sustaining a sense of tension. The movie has a lot of prosaic scenes of Meg hanging out with her friends, parents, or potential love interest. These feel rather sunny and light-hearted, backed up by a very cheesy score. A few sources refer to “Mr. Wrong” as a television movie. I'm not sure if that's accurate but the film does, sometimes, have the stilted quality that defines a lot of eighties television. Heather Bolton is a likable enough heroine as Meg but she feels like a character from a soap opera at times, a thinly defined stereotype launched into an improbable situation. While “Mr. Wrong” has plenty of dull or slow stretches, it does eventually bend towards an exciting finale. A sequence where the camera slowly reveals that her stalker is already in the house with the unaware Meg is well done. The finale of the film, where the killer confronts her in the car, is also quite good. Makes the whole movie worth watching, as it winds towards a satisfyingly compact final act. 

Gaylene Preston would go on to a fruitful career, eventually becoming well respected as a documentarian. She's a Dame now, so good for her. “Mr. Wrong” has mostly remained in obscurity. It was released on VHS over here in the states, under the title “Dark of the Night.” Eventually, Peter Jackson would come along and put New Zealand horror on the map. I wouldn't be shocked if “Mr. Wrong” gets rediscovered some day though. It could benefit from a cleaned-up restoration. I bet certain genre critics would very much respond to its feminist elements. While I don't think I'll be adding the movie to my personal canon of killer car flicks, it's got a few moments that make it worth checking out. If nothing else, the film presents an interesting moral that I'm not sure any other piece of media has: When buying a used car, make sure to ask if it's haunted or not. That really effects the resale value. [6/10]

Two Sentence Horror Stories: Teatime

Yesterday, I watched an episode of a horror anthology show about creepy dolls. Tonight, without planning to, I watched another episode of a horror anthology show about creepy dolls. To be fair, it is one of the most common subjects in the genre, at least since the days of Talky Tina. (And Hugo before her.) CW's little loved series “Two Sentence Horror Stories” would tackle the subject with “Teatime.” College student Sam arrives at the home of well-to-do couple the Manderleys in order to babysit their daughter, Angela. Sam immediately discovers that Sam likes to play cruel, manipulative head games and also establish dominance over people poorer than her. When Sam enters Angela's room for a game of teatime, she's also introduced to the girl's disturbing doll collection. After drinking her tea, Sam is drugged and Angela attempts to perform a magic ritual on her to turn her into a doll, the same fate that has befallen all of her babysitters. Sam proves more resourceful than the others though...

Despite its prominence, a creepy doll story is hard to tell effectively. Simply because it depends on subtly, least the ridiculousness of a small plaything threatening someone becomes apparent. “Two Sentence Horror Stories” has no use for subtly however, as overheated camp is usually the mood the program works in. “Teatime” definitely functions in this mode, from the moment we see a brief glimpse of Angela rush pass the camera. Once the room full of mutilated dolls, twisted enough to put Sid from "Toy Story" to shame, is introduced, the episode rarely cranks back on the silliness. Jump scares abound, as mutated dolls blink ominously and leap across the room while the lights are flicked off. All of this proceeds an exceedingly goofy final twist. 

As willfully dumb as “Teatime” is, I still had some fun with it. This is partially because Sophia Reid-Gantzert is an ideal, petty, obnoxious little brat. You really start to hate her from the first scene. This makes it easy to root for Christina Orjalo as Sam. There's also a mildly clever socio-economical element here. Sam, as a struggling student, is obviously poor. As soon as she arrives as the sprawling Manderley home, she is being belittled by the rich family. Angela literally sees poor people as her playthings. (Most of her past and present babysitters, I noticed, also appear to be people of color.) This makes the ending, predictable as it is, an act of rebellion from the downtrodden against the ruling class. Definitely adds a little more depth to a very silly killer doll story. And it must be said, the fucked-up dolls are cool. I like the one that looks like a humanoid caterpillar the most. [6/10]

Fulfilled: A Halloween Story (1999)

I watched entirely too much of the Sci-Fi Channel – as it was then known – in the late nineties and early 2000s. This was right before the network underwent its first major decay, which I watched happen practically in real time. Attribute this time in my life to being addicted to “Mystery Science Theater 3000” and reruns of “Kolchak: The Night Stalker.” Anyway, one of the many short-lived programs to air around that time was called “Exposure.” Much like TechTV's “Eye Drops” – an more overlooked show on a far more obscure network – this series was about showcasing low-budget short films. I bring this up because I can vividly recall a Halloween episode the series did, devoting to spooky shorts. This is how I first saw Tim Burton's “Vincent.” That same episode contained a short called “Fulfilled: A Halloween Story.” Thankfully, one of the many obsessive archivist on Youtube recorded this same program and uploaded it, allowing me to revisit “Fulfilled.” 

This “Halloween” story follows Wayne Fitzsimmons, a designer of Halloween masks and ghoulish decorations. He laments that the holiday has gotten too commercialized, far too many people dressing up in costumes that do not fit the day's macabre origins. While putting together his latest work – a wrinkly-faced scarecrow – he makes an idle wish that every day would be Halloween. After putting his girlfriend in her make-up and sending her off to a party, Wayne goes for a long walk through the spooky woods. That is when he encounters that scarecrow again, its visage much more frightening now. The animated creation sets out to grant Wayne's wish in as gruesome a manner as possible. 

“Fulfilled” is a film of humble ambitions. Writer/director Stacy Arnold is telling a simple story here, with a moral as old as time: Be careful what you wish for. Some solid misty ambiance is featured, especially in those scenes of Wayne wandering through the dark woods at night. The central scarecrow has a decent design, as far as the less than stellar history of creepy cinematic scarecrows go. I found myself wishing, ultimately, that the short had a little more meat on its bones. At only sixteen minutes, this still feels padded out, with more scenes of Wayne running from the monster than were necessary. It's also slightly disappointing that the film talks about the Celtic roots of Halloween as the celebration of the dead before going in a totally different direction. Still, I admire the spirit of the work. In the “Exposure” clips, Arnold talks about working on a feature version of “Fulfilled,” which never emerged. She did find some work as a production assistant. I wonder what she's up to now? [610]