Dean Koontz will likely always be regarded as the Dollar Store Stephen King, the sting of which is surely easy to ignore when you've supposedly sold 500 million books. Serious horror fiction fans dismiss Koontz but, I don't know, I've liked the couple of books of his I've read. In fact, I really liked “Watchers,” the fifty-second or so novel the prolific writer had published. The 1987 tale of three misfits – a burnt-out former soldier, a secluded woman, and a super-intelligent dog – forming a family and fighting off the genetically engineered monster and government agents on their trail struck me as surprisingly heartfelt, despite its ridiculous premise. The novel must've struck someone in Hollywood too: It's been adapted four times, starting the year after the book was first published. I reviewed Jon Hess' “Watchers” during 2016's Halloween Horror-Fest Blog-a-Thon, which I am distressed to see was nine years ago. If I'm going to take in this whole dog-and-monster show, I better start at the beginning. I'll try not to repeat myself.
An explosion at a top secret government research lab results in two escapes. The first of which appears be an ordinary golden retriever. The second of which is a Sasquatch-ian monster obsessed with ripping people's eyeballs out. The first victim the monster claims is the father of ordinary teenage girl, Tracey Keeshan. He's killed in a barn, shortly after Tracey sneaks her boyfriend Travis out. As he's driving away, the same dog leaps into Travis' truck. He immediately notices how intelligent the animal, that he names Furface, is. The two quickly bond and Travis convinces his single mom, Nora, to let Furface stay. However, the super-smart dog is desired by cold-blooded government agent, Lem. Most pressingly, the murderous monster has a instinctual drive to hunt down the dog and destroy it, ripping apart anyone it meets along the way. Soon, Travis and his mom are hiding out in the woods, preparing to protect the dog they've come to love and to fight off the killer beasts on its trail.
As disconnected from the source material as this “Watchers” is, it does get one detail right. That super-smart dog is very charming. Furface – who had the less insulting name of Einstein in the book – is played by a precious pup named Sandy. Her big expressive eyes are exactly as heart-melting as they are meant to be. Sandy's ability to bark on command, tap a book cover with her nose, or hold a pencil in her mouth are simply delightful. That Travis would immediately become attached to the dog is the least absurd thing in the film. As I've said before, I'm a total dog guy. I was a total dog boy earlier in my life. I was never a Corey Haim type, whose performance operates largely on a “gee shucks!' level even when he's supposed to be a horny or rebellious teen. However, I will always relate to the story of a bond between a boy and his dog. When Furface uses a Scrabble board to spell out a message for Travis, asking him to leave and not endanger himself any more for his sake, that plucks the weathered, frayed heart-strings in my chest. The appeal of a super-smart dog that can do your homework for you is obvious but the appeal of a loving, unfailingly loyal fuzz-butt with a wet nose and wagging tail is universal.
The subplot involving Michael Ironside and Blu Mankuma feels half-formed. A twist regarding Ironside's character has never made much sense to me. Despite that, Ironiside is naturally an intimidating, colorful presence that enlivens the film every time he's on-screen. The film dumbly removes the dog from the action at the end, becoming a fairly colorless “Predator” rip-off instead. That was silly, seeing as how the link between Travis and Furface was the best thing this one had going for it. Hess' “Watchers” has none of the pathos of Koontz' book, obviously. The downgrade is most evident in the monster, which goes from a self-loathing lab-made misfit that hates to be observed and despises the genetic brother that has everything it wants to a generic beastie. Still, corny and silly as it is, 1988's “Watchers” does have a cute dog, a convincingly relationship between it and its hero, and enough eighties horror flair for me to give it a mild thumbs-up. [6/10]
Fans that are old enough to remember will recall a time when the zombie film was a niche subgenre adored only by die-hard gore-hounds and those obsessed with the history of the horror movie. Look back far enough on some truly ancient horror fan-sites to unearth writers bemoaning how obscure the zombie premise had become. It all seems rather ironic in light of the last twenty-five years, where zombies have remained a regular presence in popular culture. The popularity of shambling, undead gut-mucher is global too. In the past, I've covered zombie movies from places as far apart from each other as Cuba and Nigeria. Having said that, discovering that there is a Bahraini zombie movie still surprised me. The island nation of Bahrain is the smallest country in the Middle East and seems to be known, on an international scale, more for the government's human rights violations than anything else. People have dreams of making movies everywhere, however, and a filmmaker named Ameera Al-Qaed would achieve their's with the 2013 release of “Dead Sands,” her nation's first zombie movie.
An opening radio broadcast speaks of an airborne virus that has been reported in the nation of Bahrain. Many dismiss it as no more concerning than the common flu, claiming the experts are panicking over nothing. It certainly doesn't seem to worry a group of young people, all of whom head out for a night on the town. They include soft-spoken music major May, self-centered rich girl Samara, mysterious biker-type Wolf, outcast Friday, his crush Reem, wannabe filmmaker TJ, and a few other friends. This potential good time is ruined when the recently dead begin to rise as flesh-hungry ghouls, who kill and eat the living to spread their virus. The youths are thrown together by circumstance, working together to flee a concert venue. Wolf mentions that one of his clients owns a house boat and the group sets their sight on that as their goal. They are going to have to learn to work together if they have any chance of surviving the night though.
“Dead Sands'” writer Ahmed Zayani appears as TJ. He makes sure to include references to George Romero and “Game of Thrones,” as well as standard zombie movie cliches like power-hungry lunatics trying to consolidate power in the end times. What he doesn't remember to include are, well, the zombies. When the undead do appear in “Dead Sands,” it's as people with a little fake blood in their mouths and on their skin with a smattering of make-up on their face. They gurgle and hiss in a distracting fashion. Usually, the undead appears briefly, nibbling on someone, before the characters flee. It's not until the last act that we get anything like a proper zombie horde but its numbers are still quite small. In fact, for a movie supposedly about the fall of society, there's surprisingly little people in “Dead Sands” at all. Every location seems practically empty to begin with. It's hard to get a sense of zombies taking over society when there's both few zombies and fewer signs of society.
The idea of a zombie movie, a familiar premise, being made in Bahrain by filmmakers with cultural specific perspectives is a tantalizing one. There is certainly a little bit of that on display here. Miraya Varma, as Samara, seems to be the only performer in the film that's actually acting. The character is a narcissist who stops in the middle of the zombie apocalypse to redo her make-up, while being more than happy to manipulate those around her if it'll help her. She's basically the film's villain and acts, culturally, very Western. Is Samara's inevitable fate some sort of commentary? At least one of the characters in the film is Muslim. “Dead Sands” ends with an uncertain invoking of the words of Allah. Is this important? Is director Ameera Al-Qaed saying something about traditional values in Bahrain? It's hard to say, as “Dead Sands” feels half-formed in so many ways. Beating up on what was obviously a very low budget production made with extremely limited resources makes me feel like an asshole. I hope more films of note come out of this region of the world and that they are sturdier or at least more entertaining than this one. [3/10]
British television's fascination with the horror anthology format seems to have waned by the middle seventies. The nineties and beyond did see a few attempts to revive the subgenre, from time to time. Such as “Urban Gothic,” which aired for two seasons on Channel 5, starting in May of 2000. The second episode, “Vampirology,” is a mockumentary about a film crew following around Rex. He is an immortal and thoroughly cynical vampire living in modern day Soho. His ageless good looks finds him work as a model while wannabes pay to have themselves vampirized. (He had his fangs filed down, because they were “kitsch,” and now does the bloodletting with a straight razor.) He hangs out with trendy friends and spends a lot of time in night clubs. The camera tracks him as Rex details his philosophy about life and becomes increasingly desperate as he prowls the streets for the right kind of victim.
A key moment in “Vampirology” has Rex's collection of friends – a model proud of her breast implants, an intellectual, a rich lawyer – each being asked what they think a vampire is. They describe him as a metaphor for AIDS or the predatory nature of capitalism. Rex dismisses each of these theories in quick succession, as cliched and worn out. This is a very self-reflective moment on the writers of “Urban Gothic,” who were surely aware of how malleable a symbol the vampire is. To the various cultural ideas and anxieties the mythological figure has spoken to over the decades. Rex is dismissive of all these ideas because this vampire is a self-absorbed hipster. He smokes constantly, brags about what type of shirts he wears, spends a lot of time in trendy restaurants and clubs. Comparing a person who only comes out at night and preys on other people to a vampire is a fairly fresh angle, I'll admit.
The conclusion “Vampirology” seems to come to is that, when you see other people as nothing but food, it tends to leave you alone and miserable. Rex surrounds himself with people he know he won't get too attached to, that he won't feel bad about bleeding. Similarly, his human hanger-ons consider their vampire pal more of a status symbol than a meaningful relationship. At one point, when presented with an apathetic youth who is totally content to be drained by him, Rex flies into a rage. He says he wants to hunt humans, to feel some sort of challenge. However, he later dismisses potential victims for having too much facial hair or too much garlic in their blood. (He isn't allergic to garlic, he just doesn't like the taste.) This vampire is a pretty shallow guy. No wonder he ends up alone and covered with blood, thinking more and more about suicide as an escape from his ceaseless life.
“Vampirology” strikes me as heavily inspired by “Man Bites Dog,” aping its hand-held documentary visual style and interview-heavy format. That link is most evident when we finally see Rex kill someone. It's a drawn-out sequence that ends up painting both the perpetrator and the victim as pathetic figures. In fact, the longer “Vampirology” goes on, the clearer it becomes that Rex is the butt of the joke here. A scene where he visits a video store sees him comparing cinematic portrayals of Dracula to different James Bond actors. Lee was the Connery of Draculas, Lugosi was more like Roger Moore. However, he seems quite enamored of Ingrid Pitt... Which sets up a later moment where, after a potential biting date stands him up, Rex happens to run into Pitt. She is utterly unimpressed with this real vampire, leaving him embittered and humiliated. It's a funny idea, starting the half-hour out with the vampire as utterly desirable to everyone and ending it by revealing he's kind of a loser. [7/10]
A key moment in “Vampirology” has Rex's collection of friends – a model proud of her breast implants, an intellectual, a rich lawyer – each being asked what they think a vampire is. They describe him as a metaphor for AIDS or the predatory nature of capitalism. Rex dismisses each of these theories in quick succession, as cliched and worn out. This is a very self-reflective moment on the writers of “Urban Gothic,” who were surely aware of how malleable a symbol the vampire is. To the various cultural ideas and anxieties the mythological figure has spoken to over the decades. Rex is dismissive of all these ideas because this vampire is a self-absorbed hipster. He smokes constantly, brags about what type of shirts he wears, spends a lot of time in trendy restaurants and clubs. Comparing a person who only comes out at night and preys on other people to a vampire is a fairly fresh angle, I'll admit.
“Vampirology” strikes me as heavily inspired by “Man Bites Dog,” aping its hand-held documentary visual style and interview-heavy format. That link is most evident when we finally see Rex kill someone. It's a drawn-out sequence that ends up painting both the perpetrator and the victim as pathetic figures. In fact, the longer “Vampirology” goes on, the clearer it becomes that Rex is the butt of the joke here. A scene where he visits a video store sees him comparing cinematic portrayals of Dracula to different James Bond actors. Lee was the Connery of Draculas, Lugosi was more like Roger Moore. However, he seems quite enamored of Ingrid Pitt... Which sets up a later moment where, after a potential biting date stands him up, Rex happens to run into Pitt. She is utterly unimpressed with this real vampire, leaving him embittered and humiliated. It's a funny idea, starting the half-hour out with the vampire as utterly desirable to everyone and ending it by revealing he's kind of a loser. [7/10]
When we think of the silent era of horror, what comes to mind is probably the surrealism of German expressionism or Universal's early gothic melodrama. We probably don't think of home invasion thrillers, a subgenre that wouldn't really come into vogue until the seventies. However, from 1913, here's exactly such a film, likely the first such example in cinema history. “Suspense” follows a woman and her infant child, unknowingly left home alone when the maid quits without notice. Her husband calls to inform her he's staying late at the office. That's when a homeless vagrant begins to stalk around the property. He discovers the key left under the mat by the maid and enters the home. The woman calls her husband as she barricades herself in the bedroom, the tramp advancing up the stairs with a knife. The man races home, hoping he can make it back before it's too late.
“Suspense” isn't only surprisingly modern in terms of subject matter for a 112 year old movie. A good amount of this one-reeler is shot in the stage-like, vertical technique that was common in these primitive days of filmmaking. There are some camera techniques here that must've seemed utterly cutting edge at the time. A three-way split screen is used to show the woman on the phone with her husband, while the tramp is sneaking into the house. Later, there's a high-speed car chase, as the hero hitches a ride with some cops in an motorized buggy, that feels a lot more fast-paced than you'd expect from something over a century old. Better are the P.O.V. shots, from the woman's perspective, as she makes eye-contact with the sinister hobo. A shot of him starring up at her through a window is actually quite creepy.
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