Halloween 2025: September 24th

 

Don't Deliver Us from Evil (1971)
Mais ne nous délivrez pas du mal

When boys kill, it's almost expected. In an era when gun violence occurs with such frequency that it's not news worthy most of the time, the idea of embittered or radicalized teen boys going on rampages sadly has no novelty. When young women kill another person, however, it's a truly shocking act. Patriarchal standards usually insure most women grow up as soft, sensitive, submissive beings. The little girl are a universally recognized symbol of innocence, no matter how true that may or may not be. This makes the lurid crimes of notorious figures like Mary Bell, Brenda Spencer, Anissa E. Weier and Morgan E. Geyser sources of morbid fascination for the media and true crime followers. This is especially true of Pauline Parker and Juliet Hulme. Mostly because Hulme grew up to become a successful author of murder mysteries before anyone discovered she herself was a notable murderess. While Peter Jackson's "Heavenly Creatures" is the best film made about that case, there is an earlier example. Joël Séria's 1971 French thriller "Don't Deliver Us from Evil" was very loosely inspired by Parker and Hulme. It was controversial enough upon release to be banned in its home country, leading to the salacious international tagline that proclaimed it "the French film banned in France!"

Anne is a teenage girl attending a Catholic private academy in the French countryside. Her best friend is Lore. Despite being raised in the faith by their devout parents, both girls dismiss Christianity. They proclaim Satan as their master and promise to perform wicked deeds in his name. They spy on the nuns, read forbidden literature to each other, confess to sins they didn't commit, and have lurid fantasies about the priests. During the summer, Anne is allowed to stay with Lore at her parents' château. Their behavior grows more extreme. They attempt to seduce an adult farm hand, setting fire to his field after he tries to assault Lore. Anne tortures animals and bullies the handicapped groundskeeper. They perform a mock communion, in which they make a blood bond to each other and proclaim allegiance to Satan. Soon, the girls' activities escalate to murder. When Lore fears they might be caught, and separated, the two take extreme actions to ensure they are together forever. 

It is in the nature of teenagers to rebel against authority, obviously. I would not consider most of what goes on in the early scenes of “Don't Deliver Us from Evil” to be especially concerning. The girls staying up late to read pornography to each other, fucking with authority figures, and writing edgy shit in their journals feels totally in-line with normal teenage behavior. The brief bits of information we get about Anne and Lore's parents suggest they are very religious, making the girls' flirtation with Satanism – their version of which merely being typical Catholic ritual with Satan in place of God – a natural reaction to the world they've been brought up in. All of that is standard adolescent stuff, about challenging boundaries and defining the self. The two are also exploring their quickly emerging sexuality. They seem eager to tempt their priest into inappropriate behavior, watch the nuns undress and kiss with curiosity. Once the girls are intentionally flashing their underwear at older men and taunting them, it's obviously gone too far. Still, these action strike me as fairly expected development of precocious adolescent sexuality. The two are becoming women and discovering their bodies can hold sway over the opposite sex, something they are toying with in ways they don't understand totally. Not that unusual.

Séria's script does not spend any time detailing the girls' back stories or their relationships with their parents. (Notably, the parents seem entirely unaware of their daughters' nocturnal activities or more dangerous tendencies.) We never see the girls interacting with other people their own age, suggesting they are both social outsiders.What the cause, the simple fact of the matter is that Anne and Lore are each other's whole world. The physical closeness they share implies budding bisexual feelings but their bond ultimately feels deeper than merely sexual. Together, the girls have made their own world. Their mischievous actions, sacrilegious chatter, and home-made rituals are a secret partnership that only they know about. The film works hard to draw the viewer into this private world too. The dreamy score by Claude Germain and Dominique Ney, the use of voice-over narration from Jeanne Goupil, and Marcel Combes' picturesque cinematography go a long way of establishing the proper tone. Namely, these two share a special bond they have with no one else, that is entirely their's. Maybe you had a friendship like that once too. If you did, certain elements of “Don't Deliver Us from Evil” are liable to tug at your most nostalgic heartstrings, depicting a time in a youth's life when the insular universe they share with their closest friend is the most important thing to ever exist.

Perhaps it is the relative normalcy of “Don't Deliver Us from Evil” that makes its second half much more disturbing. Like I said, most of what Anne and Lore get up to would not be worrying... If Anne didn't show clear sadistic inclinations. The girl seems to especially delight in tricking, blackmailing, and manipulating people. She is much too rough with her pet kitten. She crushes the groundskeeper's pet bird to death, largely to see his anguished reaction. She also has a bit of a fixation on fire, meaning Anne checks off two of the Macdonald triad. Jeanne Goupil's eyes often stare ahead, from under foreboding raven bangs, giving the impression of an icy perspective of the rest of the world. Lore, meanwhile, much more often seems to be the one led into dangerous predicaments by her friend's encouraging. She's talked into exposing herself to an older man, nearly getting raped. She breaks down in tears when it becomes clear a police detective suspects something, as opposed to Jeanne's coldness. Tales of murderous duos, in which a seemingly sociopathic instigator goads an easily swayed partner into committing horrible acts, are also a well understood psychological phenomenon. 

The whimsical score and intentionally pensive pacing marks “Don't Deliver Us from Evil” as an undeniably French production. No English speaking filmmaker would approach this material with as much of an astral touch as Séria does. The result is a film that feels equal parts unnerving, as it moves towards increasingly unpleasant events, as it does tragic or deeply personal. Something else that makes the time and place of “Don't Deliver Us from Evil's” extremely obvious is the blatant sexualization of teen girls. Goupil and Catherine Wagener were 20 and 19 when filming took place but both look a lot younger. The camera has no issue leering at their bodies, especially when they strip down to their undergarments to seduce men. This is not a movie interested in examining the social pressures and learned behavior that push girls this age to act in this manner. Neither of the men who attempt to rape Lore are exactly villainized either, creating some queasy connotations of whether the girl was “leading them on” or “asking for it” and other such sexist cliches. “Don't Deliver Us from Evil” is, without a doubt, an exercise in EuroSleaze sensibilities. It adds a probably intentional extra layer of discomfort here, the director no doubt seeking to push buttons and offend, while never letting you forget that this otherwise thoughtful, perceptive motion picture firmly belongs to the exploitation genre too. (Something embraced by the lurid poster designs cooked up by marketers in other countries.)

Ya know, it's a French movie from the seventies. I guess you have to expect some stuff like that. Assuming that salacious, morally dubious angle doesn't put you off, “Don't Deliver Us from Evil” is a fascinating film that lulls the viewer into a dream-like state before shocking you with its disturbing implications. The performances are beguiling and the whole movie unfolds like a distressing vision. It doesn't have the intense psychological introspective of “Heavenly Creatures” nor does it adopt a child's imaginative perspective to the degree of the similarly themed “Poison for the Fairies.” However, in its own way, “Mais ne nous délivrez pas du mal” is an absorbing and distressing answer to the question of “Do you know where your children are?” They probably aren't worshiping the devil and seducing passing motorists but, in the days before cell phones, I guess there was no way to be absolutely certain. [8/10]
 

Call Girl of Cthulhu (2014)

As conceived by Lovecraft back in 1926, the entity known as C'thulhu was a symbol of man's inability to comprehend his own insignificance within the universe. Ageless, deathless, and octopus-headed, the Old One represented the swirling abysses of knowledge man was incapable of grasping. Lord knows what Howard Philips would've thought of his creation essentially becoming a mascot, a pop culture reference for nerds to chuckle at, a cuddly plush toy. For some, the idea of merely snuggling C'thulhu is not enough for them. Did you know there are multiple series that re-imagine Lovecraft's eldritch abominations as cute anime girls? That last step would be deeply unnecessary for some enthusiasts, it would seem, as the existence of Lovecraftian erotica suggests. All of which would surely make the notoriously sex-averse H.P. go mad himself. The point is: Filmmaker Chris LaMartina definitely wasn't the first person to make the pun “Call Girl of Cthulhu” when he directed a movie with that title in 2014. However, it is notably another example of how some people think a sanity-rending horror is actually kind of hot.

Carter Wilcox is a would-be comic book artist, whose social awkwardness around the opposite sex has left him a virgin well into his twenties. This frustration is further aggravated by his roommate, noise musician Erica, often having loud sex with her big-dicked boyfriend. His neighbor down the hall purchases the services of Riley, a professional courtesan. She catches Carter's eye and he attempts not to only pay for her sexual services but actually romance the woman. Meanwhile, a cult of Cthulhu worshipers are looking for a maiden with a distinctive birthmark on her rear, foretold to be the mate that will lure the Great Old One back to our world. A rival group of researchers, out to prevent Armageddon, hire Carter to make a forgery of the Necronomicon. His involvement becomes more direct when he learns that Riley is the cult's target, the call girl who will be servicing the horror from beyond the veil tonight. 

Chris LaMartina's “WNUF Halloween Special” used the limitations of its budget to create a funny, insightful autopsy of analog nostalgia that had room for multiple sketch comedy-like bits. “Call Girl of Cthulhu,” LaMartina's next motion picture, similarly has an excess of ideas. Unfortunately, instead of being relegated to commercial breaks, all the concepts compete for screen time. A comic book artist falling in love with a hooker doomed to be Cthulhu's mate is but one story thread. The villains have been slaughtering sex workers around town, in search of their specific target. The ones that don't die end up becoming half-mutated ghouls. The colorful band of researchers are attempting to stop the baddies, each member of that team given a one-note gimmick. From there, a number of similarly exaggerated characters drift in and out of the story. Such as the well endowed DJ at the strip club or LaMartina regular George Stover as Riley's most pathetic client. Carter's fascination with the titular escort feels like it's often forgotten. The last third, indeed, reveals that this is not the destination of the script at all. 

Like many micro-budget would-be cult classic horror/comedies of this sort, “Call Girl of Cthulhu” seems desperate to win the audience's approval. The dialogue is full of crude profanity, the scenarios bend towards the improbable, and the characters are largely defined by bizarre attributes. Some of these jokes are interesting in their weirdness. Such as the members of the cult who wear weird fetish mask to hide their seemingly inhuman features. However, the jokes seem secondary to the wackiness. By which I mean, “Call Girl of Cthulhu” is never as funny as it wants to be. When combined with a formless screenplay, the result is a sluggish pacing that never picks up. The oddball characters come and go, the film seemingly looking for new angles to explore to stretch out the runtime, without adding much depth. That last point means neither of the romances Carter finds himself entangled with feel natural at all. Women end up finding the awkward nerd endearing not because it makes sense but because the movie wouldn't exist without it. 

One imagines that “Call Girl of Cthulhu” was conceived as a title first and a story second. That furthers the idea that the premise was probably better suited to a mock trailer – such as the kind that would've played during “WNUF Halloween Special's” commercial breaks – than a full-length movie. This is most apparent in what is the film's best sequence. That would be when Riley, well on her way to becoming an otherworldly monstrosity, unleashes her collection of freakish mutations on her regular johns. This is when the title's promise of a prostitute of the Nyarlathotep variety is actually fulfilled. That montage is a good example of the charmingly home-made special effects on display here. While a doorway to beyond looks a lot like cardboard, the various latex and rubber tentacles and deformities on display are well done. Cthulhu himself is a no-show but we do get some cool tentacles slithering in from beyond. A flesh-hungry penis monster is another notable addition. I also liked the masks some of the cultist wear, which resemble Cthulhu's tentacled face but are made out of cut up newspaper.

I admire LaMartina's do-it-yourself attitude, how he doesn't let a lack of resources restrain his ambitions. You can tell he's a real Lovecraft nerd too. The movie is littered with jokey shout-outs to the author's writing. Such as a condom labeled “Deep One,” a dominatrix calling herself Missy Katonixx, Carter's first name, Erica's last name of Zann, an appearance from a Dr. West, a random shout-out to the Dreamlands, or the suitably Lovecraftian downbeat ending. Unfortunately, “Call Girl of Cthulhu” is a movie I admire more spiritually than in actuality. The jokes simply aren't very funny. The script is slapdash. The pacing drags horribly. The romances are never involving. The cheesy monster effects are cool. I think LaMartina and I must have similar taste in women, as I found a lot of the often nude female performers attractive, for whatever that is worth. Sadly, the positives aren't enough to make up for the apparent flaws on display. But it's alright. We'll always have “WNUF.” And a romantic ode to fish-fucking won Best Picture three years after this, meaning anyone who wants to get down and dirty with Yog-Sothoth has since been vindicated. [4/10]

Tales from the Darkside: A Case of the Stubborns

“Tales from the Darkside” was essentially a spin-off of “Creepshow.” While that movie proudly announced it was Stephen King's take on the E.C. Horror comics, the TV show only occasionally drew from well-known authors of the macabre. One of those exceptions is the season one episode, “A Case of the Stubborns,” which would see Robert Bloch once again being adapted for a half-hour anthology show. The story concerns Jody and his mother, who gather for breakfast one morning under the sad news that his grandfather died the night before. That's when Grandpa Titus comes down stairs and starts to eat. When his daughter informs him that he's dead, he dismisses her concerns. Grandpa Titus continues to decompose while lingering around the house as an undead revenant, refusing to acknowledge that he's dead. When not even the town pastor can convince grandpa he's now a rotting corpse, Jody seeks the help of the voodoo priestess that lives on the outskirts of town. 

Obviously, “A Case of the Stubborns” is “Tales from the Darkside” in a silly mood. Not only is the general premise, of an old man persisting as a living corpse simply because he's too stubborn to accept that he's dead, obviously farcical. The episode is set somewhere in the American south. All the characters talk with exaggerated accents, peppering their speech with folksy turns of phrases. Many of the supporting characters are very silly. A pre-Data Brent Spiner appears as the town reverend, whose rhetoric leaves Grandpa Titus unmoved before he starts gulping down on a jug. The voodoo woman is a far sillier character, attempting to scare the boy before admitting it's all an act. The result is a half-hour that is a bit too cutesy for my taste. “A Case of the Stubborns” simply leans way too hard into the preciousness of old-timey southern fried antics. 

I did find some elements to enjoy though. First off, the make-up on actor Eddie Bracken's face as the grandfather grows increasingly deceased is well done. By the end, his skin is bloated, festering, discolored, seeming to simultaneously be falling off and filling up with excess fluid. It is gnarly looking and the main source of horror in an episode otherwise more focused on chuckles. The performances are strong. Bracken does convincingly portrayed the dual nature of an old man so obnoxiously stuck-in-his-ways that he refuses to accept dying but is also inevitably charming in his mischievous, grouchy manner. A positively baby-faced Christian Slater plays the teenage lead and there's definitely some novelty in seeing that actor in the role of a naive kid. The final image of the episode is equal parts absurd but also, in an odd way, somewhat moving. The idea of being faced with the cold hard facts of the inevitability of our own demise is poignant, despite the ridiculousness of everything around that moment. [6/10]

 

 

The Addams Family: Ophelia Visits Morticia

While “Ophelia Visits Morticia” has a technically accurate title, the episode probably should've been called “Uncle Fester Joins the Peace Corps” instead. Well, he tries anyway. Yes, this is prompted by Moritica's older twin sister visiting the household. Ophelia is heartbroken because her latest beau, Montrose, has abandoned her. That makes her fifth dumping this year, with Montrose having left to join the government agency. Ophelia notices the resemblance between Fester and her most recent runaway lover, in a somewhat insulting manner. Hoping to prove his vitality, Fester decides to volunteer himself into the world-trotting program. Ophelia likes this idea, as she hopes he'll find her missing fiance. The family goes about training their most avuncular member but, ultimately, Gomez gets the news that Washington has turned down his application. Hoping not to hurt Fester's – or Ophelia's – feelings, the couple attempt to make their beloved uncle feel too important at home to travel abroad. 

As “The Addams Family” has gone on, it has come to rely on the running gags associated with the characters more and more. This episode sees Fester squeeze his own head with a vice, Gomez rushing into the room suddenly to kiss Morticia's arm when she drops a bit of French, and Ophelia greeting every man she meets with a judo flip. These gags are starting to get a little old, I'll admit. At least the writers think of some clever variations on its reoccurring ideas. Gomez is distracted from his rope holding duty when his wife calls him bubela, Cleopatra the African Strangler gets a little too friendly at one point, and John Astin does a spectacular pratfall after he fears he might get flipped again. Another revisited gag is Ophelia's left leg raising when a flower is picked from her head. This is apparently because, as the episode reveals, the ring of daisy in her hair actually grow out of her scalp. A standard genetic quirk in this family, one assumes. 

While this one does revisit plenty of previous set-ups, there are several amusingly fresh bits as well. My favorite is when Fester attempts to do a push-up in the backyard. There's also a series of kerfuffles involving seashells, which made me chuckle. As is usually the case, the warmth and banter of the cast keeps this half-hour going by quickly. The opening scene where Gomez asks to take his wife to the drive-in movie theater – the implication of what they'll get up to there quite evident from his impish grin – is a great example of Astin and Carolyn Jones' incredible chemistry. I also couldn't help but smirked at the rather obvious ways a body double is employed any time Morticia and Ophelia have to interact in the same shot. Jackie Coogan gets to interact with most of the family here, trading ghoulish wordplay with Astin and Lisa Loring as Wednesday. Ya know, you can see the punchline coming each time with these conversations but I still grinned. Also, this episode features two light-hearted jokes about suicide, another topic this show made light of surprisingly often. I'm going to guess that plots based around attempting to gaslight loved ones into changing their mind were far more typical in the sixties though. [7/10]