We used to take movies like "Warlock" for granted. Filmed in the late eighties but unreleased for several years because of the dissolution of New World Pictures, critical reaction was initially mixed. Most dismissed the film as a "Terminator" rip-off. Even the positive reviews were often begrudgingly so, one writer damning the film with faint praise by calling it "modestly entertaining." Looked at with modern eyes, "Warlock" has an impressive pedigree. The same director as "House" and "Friday the 13th" parts two and three! From the future screenwriter of "The Fugitive" and "Pitch Black!" The D.P. also shot "Mad Max!" The score is by motherfuckin' Jerry Goldsmith! Sure, not all of those names meant much at the time but an exciting, inventive genre mash-up like this should've been championed by the press. If you made this exact same movie today, with spiffier special effects and 10% more social commentary, you've basically got a Jordan Peele film. I guess horror didn't get any respect in 1991. Or maybe "Warlock's" unassuming exterior has repeatedly worked against it. When I last wrote about the film ten years ago, my reaction was also merely "this is pretty fun" and not "this rocks actually." Well, "Warlock" does rock actually and I'm here to tell you why.
In colonial Boston, witch hunter Redferne brings in the warlock responsible for his wife's death. The day before execution, the warlock – who claims to be the son of Satan – transports himself three hundred years into the future. He arrives in modern day Los Angeles, in the apartment of a waitress named Kassandra. A talk with his horned dad reveals his purpose: The pages of the Grand Grimoire, the Satanic bible, have been spread around America in the last three centuries. If reassembled, the pages will reveal the true name of God. Which the warlock intends to speak backwards and undo creation. Redferne has followed the demonic sorcerer into the modern day too. He teams up with Kassandra, who is motivated to help after the warlock curses her to age twenty years every day. The duo head out on a road trip across the United States, trying to stay ahead of the warlock's path of magical mayhem before he complete his vile quest.
In general, Twohy's script goes out of its way to add as much color and memorable energy to every corner of the story as possible. When we meet Kassandra, she is living with a guy named Chas. This could have been a routine, unimportant character in any other movie. Instead, Twohy makes him talkative and queer, already creating someone more unique than most horror movie supporting players. This is true throughout. The cab driver they meet after returning to the East Coast near the end is a classical Bostonite. A stewardess on a plane gets a funny line. A Mennonite farmer encountered in the Midwest proves shockingly capable and helpful, so much that he's spared from the Warlock's wrath despite suffering one of the film's nastier fates. The characters that aren't sympathetic – the bigoted cops that question Kassandra, Mary Woronov as a phony medium – still get that same degree of unique texture and humor. It represents a world that's fully fleshed-out, inhabited by characters, no matter how minor, with inner lives and personalities.
This is a horror film, however, and one with its villain's name right there in the title. Julian Sands already had the backbone of a fine character actor's career when this film solidified his destiny as a cult icon. The minute we meet the otherwise unnamed Warlock, he's wearing blackened leathers and has his thumbs screwed to his toes. When he arrives in the present, Kassandra misidentifies the medieval torture device as a modern kink accessory. When paired with Sands' piercing eyes and androgynous beauty, it makes the Warlock an intentionally sexually ravenous, culturally queer figure. His first on-screen victim has their tongue bitten out during a passionate man-on-man kiss. This is right before he seduces a woman by handing her a phallic shaped crystal. Yes, Sands gets a sense of bisexual menace all over the film. When he kills a kid and boils his fat to make a flying potion, it's a moment full of queasy tension but also points towards the character's rejection of traditional gender roles. That undeniably, obviously makes Warlock a villain. However, by being out of place and time in both the far past and the then-present, he also becomes an antiheroic figure of commentary. To an omni-sexual super-freak like the Warlock, late eighties L.A. is just as vanilla as Pilgrim's Rock. And Sands brings such a constant sense of cool smoothness to everything he does, every motion and raise of an eyebrow, that you can't help but enjoy watching him do his thing.
La perversa caricia de Satán
Recently, I asked a friend what he knew about Andorra. His response was “What's that?” Of the six micro-nations officially recognized as independent countries within Europe, the Principality of Andorra is probably the most overlooked. These 181 square miles of Iberian land nestled between Spain and France perhaps isn't as internationally renown as Monaco or the Holy See. Consider, for example, its cinematic output. The entirety of which seems to, as of this writing, amount to around 69 titles. When you exclude short films, that list gets shorter still. When you filter by genre, and focus only on horror, you are left with... Nothing. If one allows for co-productions, a curious title does emerge. 1976's “La perversa caricia de Satán” – “The Wicked Caresses of Satan!” But known in English by the less colorful “Devil's Kiss” – was directed by a Spaniard, stars two French actors, and co-produced by “Andros Films Enspanola.” Little behind-the-scenes information exists on this film that seems to have been barely distributed in the seventies but a succession of physical media releases from the usual suspects has rescued it from total obscurity.
Following the somewhat suspicious suicide of her husband, countess and medium Claire Grandier is seemingly trying to restart her life. She arrives at the castle of Duke de Haussemont, during a weekend of models' fashion shows and partying. Claire is joined by Professor Gruber, a scientist currently seeking funding for his research into reviving dead cells. After performing a séance for the duke and his guests, Claire and Gruber retreat to the basement. This is where their real work begins. The duo plan to combine Claire's expertise in Satanic magic and Gruber's research. With the help of a mute dwarf Claire befriends, they dig up the body of her husband. Using magic and science, the two bring him back to life as a mindless zombie, under the telepathic sway of the doctor. The undead being sets out murdering the various other people on the castle's ground, sometimes under the command of Clair and her partner and sometimes seemingly on his own.
All of that sounds like it would have to be a ton of schlocky fun, right? If this gumbo of tropes were assembled by a director and editor with a sense of pacing or urgency, it might have been. Instead, “Devil's Kiss” is largely a dull affair. Reading the above paragraph makes it sound like this movie is full of crazy shit. After the old count is killed, his asshole son takes over. This precedes another subplot, about his girlfriend getting killed and also brought back as a psychic zombie. Unfortunately, like everything else in the film, these events pass without much zest. The Frankenstein-ian ghoul is not dug-up until half-way through and doesn't begin to do much of anything until the last fifteen minutes. None of the characters have any dimension or quirks to them. Dr. Gruber has a heart condition, which is nothing more than a plot point to set up his inevitable and much foreshadowed downfall. Clair seems to be acting out of revenge but against who and over what is never quite clear. The result is a miasma of warmed over schlock shuffled together without any sense of fun.
This was one of many exploitation films of varying types Silvia Solar would star in, throughout Europe and the seventies. In a script that wasn't stitched together from countless other sources and drunkenly cut together in a weekend, she might have brought some charisma to the material. Instead, she is another of many elements that is simply here. “Devil's Kiss” is the kind of motion picture that exists at the bottom of the barrel for Euro-horror completest to find. It will not satisfy or entertain much, save for the briefest flicker of amusement here and there. However, if your hunger for this particular flavor of nonsense is so ravenous that you've watched your way through Jess Franco's entire filmography, maybe you'll want to dig this one up. Apologies to any and all proud citizens of Andorra who might be offended by the words I type here. [5/10]
It has become standard practice for modern streaming shows to break up the incessant serialization of a season for one episode. These usually flashback-centric stand-alone episodes are frequently among the best received of a season. You'd think this would point out the flaw in the eight hour long movie format so many shows favor these days but... Nevertheless, “In Space, No One...” takes us back to the Maginot, the Yutani craft that brought the xenomorph and other freaky life forms to Earth. It follows resident cyborg Morrow, awoken from cryo-sleep to see that the ship's captain and another crewman have Facehuggers around their heads. An attempt to extract one has left a person dead from exposure to the creature's acidic blood. This is merely the newest problem Morrow must untangle aboard the Maginot. A saboteur is hiding among the crew, causing explosions that are compromising the ship's navigational capabilities. The other life forms keep escaping containment and infecting other crew men. As the xenomoprh naturally continues through its life cycle, Morrow soon has another issue effecting his ability to achieve his stated mission goal.
“In Space, No One...,” as the pithy title points towards, is Noah Hawley paying an extended homage to Ridley Scott's original film. The episode plays out how I imagine a sequel to “Alien,” made in the early eighties and directed by someone a lot less talented than James Cameron, might have looked like. It is essentially a remake of the first movie, replicating the premise of a crew of blue-collar workers aboard a spaceship beset by nasty alien creatures who want to invade their bodies. The main difference “In Space, No One...” brings to the idea is that... These crew members are a lot less likable. The script doubles down on the dysfunctionality. The crew now includes an overwhelmed first mate who was screwing the previous captain, a monotone and creepy navigator with some unspeakable fetish, an inexperienced and smart-ass kid, a recovering drug addict, and a boozing burn-out. I think the inclusion of elements like this among the ensemble of an “Alien” remake isn't a bad idea. This is a franchise, after all, about sexual menace. In a feature length film, a lack of sympathetic characters would grate on the audience. In an hour long TV episode, it's a lot easier to swallow.
Another way episode five of “Alien: Earth” plays like a mediocre sequel to the first film is in the uninspired attempts to double the horrific creature quota. Say what you will about James Cameron but he understood that the xenomorph is already a perfect movie monster, that simply multiplying it would be scary enough. Noah Hawley looked at “Alien” and thought, “Oh, I can make a monster as scary as that!” This is how “Earth” ended up with a generic creeping eyeball and some oversized space roaches as its additional threats. The eyeball provides easily the most embarrassingly bad moment in the episode. At some point, it crawls into the head of a crew member and turns him into a growling zombie, that attempts to take the Alien on monster-a-monster. When combined with the shuddering editing of an earlier chase scene with the xenomorph, it makes me think that this Hawley guy actually doesn't know jack-shit about making a scary movie.
Having said that, other moments in “In Space, No One...” aren't half-bad. While the episode is mostly an uninspired rehash of the first film, it does capture something importantly. Namely, the sense of grim, industrial isolation of that original movie. Everyone aboard the Maginot being kind of an ass works towards furthering this point. If all the members of the ship are plotting and fighting against each other, it makes the surrounding more chilly and inhospitable. A sequence where one of the aforementioned space cockroaches escapes and lays eggs in someone's water bottle, that made me squirm. It smartly becomes a source of suspense, the camera lingering on the bottle, waiting for someone to drink from it. The resulting bloody fireworks aren't that special but the build-up is decently executed. I won't lie to you and say the sight of a slimy xenomorph lurking through a dark, misty ship doesn't tinkle some nostalgic bone deep within my body either.
Another element in this episode's favor is that it stars Morrow, quickly established as the most interesting character on the show. He is given a tragic backstory here. He left a daughter behind on Earth, who later died in a fire while he was in cryo-sleep. This speaks to the cold indifference of the universe that has always been a central part of the “Alien” mythos. As does the corporate reaction to this passing, a tersely worded letter seemingly typed up by a computer. I don't think this guy needed a weepy backstory to explain his devotion to the mission. Everything we know about the world of “Alien” is more than enough to justify a guy like Morrow, coldly devoted to his job, existing. I especially do not care about the saboteur plot nor the sense of apparent vengeance these events stir in Morrow. However, Babou Ceesay has a grizzled intensity to him that remains compelling. I guess this half-hearted recommendation still makes “In Space, No One...” my favorite episode of “Alien: Earth” so far, which speaks to my overall opinion of the series. Still got three more chances to blow me away. [6/10]
“In Space, No One...,” as the pithy title points towards, is Noah Hawley paying an extended homage to Ridley Scott's original film. The episode plays out how I imagine a sequel to “Alien,” made in the early eighties and directed by someone a lot less talented than James Cameron, might have looked like. It is essentially a remake of the first movie, replicating the premise of a crew of blue-collar workers aboard a spaceship beset by nasty alien creatures who want to invade their bodies. The main difference “In Space, No One...” brings to the idea is that... These crew members are a lot less likable. The script doubles down on the dysfunctionality. The crew now includes an overwhelmed first mate who was screwing the previous captain, a monotone and creepy navigator with some unspeakable fetish, an inexperienced and smart-ass kid, a recovering drug addict, and a boozing burn-out. I think the inclusion of elements like this among the ensemble of an “Alien” remake isn't a bad idea. This is a franchise, after all, about sexual menace. In a feature length film, a lack of sympathetic characters would grate on the audience. In an hour long TV episode, it's a lot easier to swallow.
Having said that, other moments in “In Space, No One...” aren't half-bad. While the episode is mostly an uninspired rehash of the first film, it does capture something importantly. Namely, the sense of grim, industrial isolation of that original movie. Everyone aboard the Maginot being kind of an ass works towards furthering this point. If all the members of the ship are plotting and fighting against each other, it makes the surrounding more chilly and inhospitable. A sequence where one of the aforementioned space cockroaches escapes and lays eggs in someone's water bottle, that made me squirm. It smartly becomes a source of suspense, the camera lingering on the bottle, waiting for someone to drink from it. The resulting bloody fireworks aren't that special but the build-up is decently executed. I won't lie to you and say the sight of a slimy xenomorph lurking through a dark, misty ship doesn't tinkle some nostalgic bone deep within my body either.
The more horror centric episodes of the “Outer Limits” revival seem to be less sanctimonious than the sci-fi ones, so let's give this a try. “Under the Bed” begins with an exhausted single mom putting her two kids, Andrew and Jillian, to bed. As they bicker before falling asleep, Andrew hears his favorite teddy bear calling to him from under the bed. As he reaches to grab it, an inhuman hand yanks him under. Jillian screams and the boy is nowhere to be found. Detective Caitlin Doyle is on the case and calls on Dr. Holland, a child psychologist, to assist. The thoroughly traumatized Jillian sticks to her story that “the Boogeyman” snatched her brother. The ex-husband is cleared of all wrong-doing. No lurking psychopaths or perverts are found. The deeper into the case Holland digs, the more he must face the distressing possibility that no man is responsible for Andrew's disappearance. What if the stories of child-snatching monsters present across all Earthly cultures were actually talking about the same thing? What if that same phenomenon is what also took Dr. Holland's brother away from him when he was a lad?
Every monster nerd with a passing interest in world mythology and half a creative bone in their body has probably noticed that certain concepts reoccur across almost every human civilization throughout history. Without getting into Jungian psychology, this can probably be best explained by ideas passing along borders as freely as trade roots or that parallel myths all speak to universal experiences. Parents everywhere worry about their kids straying too far from their protective reach. Thus, the fable of a child-eating monster – to scare the off-spring into staying close-by or practicing proper caution – is present in every corner of the globe. However, the temptation can be overwhelming to link these eerily similar beings together, to say they are all a manifestation of the same root creature. Call that mythological arc welding.
This is what “Under the Bed” is doing with the archetypal concept of the boogey-monster. The writers, at the very least, did their research. They link the Scandinavian troll – who turn to stone in the sunlight – with the Slavic Baba Yaga, the shapeshifting Rakshasa of Hindu beliefs and the Arabic Djinn. Because “The Outer Limits” is far too academic and stuffy a program, all of this is explained during an exposition heavy monologue in the back-half, wherein the hero sorts through a pile of books and makes these comparison. (And mispronounces djinn too.) This is paired with an earlier scene about the nature of silicon based life forms. Dr. Holland's traumatic childhood incident is similarly awkwardly explained during dialogue scenes with his dad. It climaxes with a very cheesy ending, where this legendary monster is defeated through far too simple a method. Once you factor in some typically stiff kid acting and the distressingly Neil Breen-ian appearance of star Timothy Busfield, sounds like a pretty cornball hour of television?
Basically, yes, but “Under the Bed” does touch on some potent ideas. The first scene, with its glowing eyed teddy bear speaking in a distorted voice, should be too cheesy a sight to unnerve. However, this sequence touches on something primal for me. I don't like it when teddy bears are evil. The cold open concludes with a rather shocking sight, the apparent death of a child at the hands of an abruptly appearing monster. This is dialed back later but, for that one moment, “Under the Bed” is surprisingly intense. The second appearance of the episode's bugbear, before being rendered as a cloaked Predator-like being later on, is also mildly startling. The rest of the episode is strictly competent in execution, from the totally serviceable lead performances down to the steady but un-extraordinary story construction. But that opening, man. Something in it tickled my scaredy bone. One moment is enough to elevate a single episode from forgettable to quite memorable indeed. [7/10]
Every monster nerd with a passing interest in world mythology and half a creative bone in their body has probably noticed that certain concepts reoccur across almost every human civilization throughout history. Without getting into Jungian psychology, this can probably be best explained by ideas passing along borders as freely as trade roots or that parallel myths all speak to universal experiences. Parents everywhere worry about their kids straying too far from their protective reach. Thus, the fable of a child-eating monster – to scare the off-spring into staying close-by or practicing proper caution – is present in every corner of the globe. However, the temptation can be overwhelming to link these eerily similar beings together, to say they are all a manifestation of the same root creature. Call that mythological arc welding.
Basically, yes, but “Under the Bed” does touch on some potent ideas. The first scene, with its glowing eyed teddy bear speaking in a distorted voice, should be too cheesy a sight to unnerve. However, this sequence touches on something primal for me. I don't like it when teddy bears are evil. The cold open concludes with a rather shocking sight, the apparent death of a child at the hands of an abruptly appearing monster. This is dialed back later but, for that one moment, “Under the Bed” is surprisingly intense. The second appearance of the episode's bugbear, before being rendered as a cloaked Predator-like being later on, is also mildly startling. The rest of the episode is strictly competent in execution, from the totally serviceable lead performances down to the steady but un-extraordinary story construction. But that opening, man. Something in it tickled my scaredy bone. One moment is enough to elevate a single episode from forgettable to quite memorable indeed. [7/10]
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