Halloween 2026: September 15th

 

Hokum (2026)
 

2024 saw the release of Damian McCarthy's second feature, "Oddity." The heroine of that film was a blind medium who owned a rather Warrens-esque museum of cursed objects. Among them was the creepy stuffed bunny rabbit from McCarthy's debut "Caveat" and a haunted hotel call bell, which summoned a ghostly bellhop. While I don't know how eager McCarthy is to build a web of interlocking stories with his film or if these are mere cute in-jokes, his next movie also features a similarly dressed (if non-ghostly) bellhop and the same bell. That film would be "Hokum," which saw the filmmaker getting a bit more mainstream exposure, as NEON actually put this in a decent number of theaters this past spring. Now the film is on streaming and, whattayaknow, it has a properly autumnal setting making it all the more appropriate for my annual Halloween review marathon. 

Ohm Bauman is a world-renowned author, struggling with the intended downbeat ending of his soon-to-be-finished literary trilogy. For inspiration, he decides to travel to Ireland, to the scenic hotel where his parents celebrated their honeymoon. He spreads the ashes of mum, the victim of a traumatic accident during his childhood, and da', who drank himself to death in the aftermath, in the neighboring forest while there. Ohm has also developed a depressive drinking habit of his own. After being regaled with the ghost story of a local witch who punishes naughty boys – and is said to inhabit the hotel's mysteriously closed-off honeymoon suite – and befriending a kind bartender named Fiona, Ohm attempts suicide. When he awakens, he is told that Fiona is the one that saved his life... And also that she has strangely vanished. Mal, the front desk clerk, and Fergel, the crossbow wielding groundskeeper, are eager to blame the disappearance on Jerry, the magic mushroom gulping vagrant who lives nearby. Ohm is not so sure and decides to investigate himself. With Jerry's help, he sneaks into the forbidden honeymoon suite right as the hotel is closing for the season. There, he discovers the macabre truth about Fiona's disappearance and that the child-snatching beldam whispered about earlier is no fable at all. 

While discussing "Oddity," I said that it utilized many of the same tropes and cliches currently prevalent in the folk horror style but did so a lot better than the dozen other films doing the same thing. This is also true of "Hokum," another story of an isolated and spooky old location in the foggy Irish countryside, awash in ideas from local folklore and generational trauma. For example, the otherworldly antagonist is called a Cailleach, a largely benevolent figure from Celtic lore that is usually described as a veiled, one-eyed giantess that shapes the mountains and rules over the wintry months between Samhain and Beltane. Her habit of dragging naughty boys to Hell with rusty chains and then castrating them seems to be the invention of McCarthy, a correlation of this hag figure with many others from across European folklore. Nevertheless, that is the kind of thing that seems out of the grimmer oral traditions of the old country. The same is also true of a protective circle drawn in chalk around someone's feet, a device McCarthy probably swiped from "Viy" that has its roots in many ancient stories. Once again, these elements act as seasoning on a film that isn't doing much anything new with scenes of a protagonist still scarred by a traumatic childhood now facing literal versions of his metaphorical ghosts after traveling to a dusty building. 

Tropes such as these aren't inherently bad though and McCarthy continues to show that he knows how to effectively deploy them. Colm Hogan's cinematography is moody and peering, furthering both the sense of isolation and being watched that is necessary for this story to work. The central setting, of that damned honeymoon suite, is an excellent example of precisely placed production design. Every speck of dust was dropped in an ideal place and the location is a fine setting for a ghost story. Each notable element – a canopy bed with an obscuring sheet around it, a bathtub full of black gunk, a malfunctioning dumbwaiter that drops down into a basement lit by flickering old lights – is nicely set up and then paid off for later sequences. A few reviews compared "Hokum" to video games like "Silent Hill" or "Clock Tower," in which the defenseless player must use the items littered around the setting to solve various puzzles and hide from the supernatural threat, and it's an apt comparison. The use of a clock with a bell ringing mechanism is a good example. It shows that McCarthy is an economic, clever writer and a disciplined, intentional director. "Hokum" clearly has the skills behind it to be a proper spook show and the film did cause a chill or two to run up my spine. The ambiance is effectively foreboding, the images nicely creepy, and the loud jolts and shocking images dropped in at the right times so as not to feel intrusive or excessive. 

The problem is, well, what McCarthy cooks up this time around his technically astute filmmaking is simply not as pants-wettingly scary as what he did in "Oddity." An ashen old witch looks alarming when twisting out of a hole in the wall or pressing her face against a transparent barrier. But it's not as evil as a wooden puppet man with his face locked in an eternal scream. The other ghoulies included here are the spectre of Ohm's dead mom and the googly-eyed, rabbit-eared host of an overly sinister children's program, which are especially noticeable steps down from "Oddity's" central oddity. Also as in his last feature, the supernatural entities prove to be more neutral or even helpful figures within a narrative where the living are much more malicious. I like how squirrely the flesh-and-blood bad guy is here. It strikes me as an accurate depiction of realistic evil, of a person who does not think of themselves as actively malicious but makes increasingly awful decisions out of a desire to delay responsibility for their own actions. I also think the film does a decent job of juggling its various supporting characters and subplots, the timeline jumping around a few times in a way that mostly serves the flow of the story and isn't too annoying. However, these moves were a little cleaner, a little fresher in "Oddity." It remains to be seen how many more times McCarthy can do these same tricks without it becoming tedious. 

Maybe the reason why I see "Hokum" as merely pretty good, as opposed to "Oddity's" very good, is that I had a harder time warming up to its protagonist's journey. Adam Scott plays Ohm as an icy, distant fella who is outwardly standoffish to most people he encounters. He's been made that way through a lifetime of guilt weighing down on his shoulders following that childhood accident. The film lays that idea down too cleanly, it being obvious from very early on that Ohm's encounter in the hotel will act as an exorcism of his lingering mental scars. The script further belabor this point with the story-within-the-story of a conquistador about to beat someone's inner child to death with a glass bottle. Frustratingly, I didn't find the link between Ohm's capital-T Trauma and the ghostly figures he later encounters to be all that compelling. It kind of feels like this arc of personal redemption and forgiveness was simply a clothesline McCarthy fashioned to hang his various jump-scare set pieces on. I didn't find the ghost mom or the Bunnyman that scary and I don't know if the eventual reason the script provides for why these things are here passes the sniff test for me. That's when "Hokum" starts to feel less like a story told straight from the heart and more like someone playing around with familiar cinematic cliches for their own sake. 

Nevertheless, I must conclude that "Hokum" is still very much My Kind of Thing. The film is set around Halloween and makes some excellent use of authentic looking old world Jack-O-Lanterns. (Maybe I would have dug this one more if Stingy Jack himself was the film's plucked-from-folklore baddie, instead of Frau Totenkinder's whiskey drinking cousin here.) It's scares are still potent and well orchestrated. The setting is suitably eerie. The cast is well chosen and the characters have enough texture to them to read as real beings. McCarthy clearly knows what he is doing and remains one to watch. Maybe he should leave the familiar folk horror trappings and elevated backstory to A24 for his next one but, at least for now, I am still vibing with what he is doing. [7/10]

Psycho IV: The Beginning (1990)

When “Psycho III” under-performed at the box office, that was essentially the end of Norman Bates' murder spree. However, commerce finds a way sometimes. In 1990, Universal Studios was getting ready to open their East Coast theme park. To distinguish themselves from what Disney was doing in the same city, Universal Studios Florida would actually contain active sound stages. People could watch movies being made on the tram tour. A popular attraction at the Hollywood park was the facade for the Bates Motel and mansion. It made sense for the Orlando location to have a similar attraction. If you're going to build a new Bates Motel, why not film a new “Psycho” there too? Charles Edward Pogue's idea for a “Psycho IV” sounded a lot like what would be Robert Bloch's final novel, “Psycho House,” wherein the Bates Motel become a tacky tourist attraction. This was rejected in favor of a script from original screenwriter, Joseph Stefano. Mick Garris would sign on to direct and he had directed a lot of TV up to this point. That made sense, since “Psycho IV: The Beginning” was always designed to forego theaters and debut on Showtime. Inauspicious as these roots are, the film has attracted some fans over the years. 

Stefano's script disregards the previous “Psycho” sequels. (Though it also doesn't directly contradict them either, if that really matters to you.) Talk radio host Fran Ambrose is interviewing Dr. Richmond, a psychologist who has written a book about the phenomenon of sons murdering their own mothers. His fascination with this subject was spurned by his days studying Norman Bates. They get a phone call from a fella calling himself “Ed.” He tells his story, of being raised by his domineering and unhinged mother. The complicated feelings that developed in him, especially around sex, growing up with his crazy mom at the isolated hotel she ran. How this led to abuse, matricide, and a murderous alter-ego based on his mother that would emerge whenever he was sexually aroused. Yes, it's Norman himself, calling in to tell his story in his own words. This is motivated by something very specific. See, in his last visit to the mental hospital, Norman met and fell in love with one of his nurses. They got married and now, he's recently discovered, she's pregnant. Norman is terrified his child will continue his legacy of madness and is willing to kill to stop it, he announces live on the air. 

Stefano may have been dismissive of “Psychos” 2 and 3 but he does find an interesting continuation of their themes anyway. Those follow-ups touched on the idea of whether someone like Norman Bates can be forgiven for his crimes. Most of all, by himself. In “The Beginning,” we see Norman's self-loathing extend to his very genetics. This is not such an unreasonable fear, in some regards. Research has continuously shown that our brain health often is predicted by the chemical imbalances and mental frailties in our parents. Might the same genetic tendencies that made Norman so susceptible to mental breaks, so willing to kill, be passed on to his child? “The Beginning,” by delving into Norman's past, also makes it clear that nurture probably has more to do with molding your kid into a psycho than nature. The flashbacks seem to insist that Norman wouldn't have grown into a murderer if his mother had not been so horrible to him. However, it is hard to see that from within the cage of your own mind. Are we doomed to repeat the past simply because of certain factors in our blood? Norma Bates was a monster and she made Norman into a monster. Are the odds that the next generation will be a monster too unbeatable? 

This is a decent foundation to build a “Psycho” follow-up on. It plays on Norman Bates' status as both a villain we fear and someone not beyond sympathy because of his backstory. A lot of cats have weird moms who foist emotionally incestuous scenarios on them. And any of us having kids are anxious about fucking them up. Unfortunately, Stefanio's script does not approach either of these ideas in a subtle or even-handed manner. "Psycho IV" has some properly cringe inducing moments in its flashbacks. Such as Norma, afraid during a thunderstorm, insisting her teenage son sleep with her and his body having certain biological reactions from being close to warm skin. However, other scenes seem to directly foreshadow the killer Norman will become. His mother insists on him wearing her dress as punishment for being aroused, standing him before a mirror and mocking him. She beats him and, when he asks why, she flatly explains that she's taking unrelated anger out on her son. This is before she lays down, in grandly stated but flat words, that having a child ruined her body and life. Her asshole boyfriend tries to encourage him to box, a chance to show off physical superiority disguised as male bonding. He ends up calling the boy a girl instead. Such on-the-nose scenes are paired with laughably baroque dialogue. I can believe that an unhinged, isolated biddy like Norma Bates might say "making wee-wee" but it sure does drain the tension from a scene. So do other awkward lines like "me and my trusty umbrella" or "Good toast!" 

Any prequel is hassled by inevitably setting up events we already know. That doesn't make the premise of delving into Norman Bates' childhood and seeing how he was formed into such an infamous killer without merit. Stefano's script does make sure to depict the relationship between the boy and his mother as more complicated than simply symbolic castrations stacked atop each other. Norman's mom wasn't always horrible. He has happy memories from his childhood. The disastrous codependency of their relationship wouldn't have formed if Mother's cruelty wasn't balanced by sweet devotion to her son as well. Unfortunately, Stefano's script never quite delves into the complexities of that. We see all the ways Norma very specifically set up her boy's murderous paraphilias. We see the inappropriate ways she acted around the boy, insisting he rub her down with scented water on a hot day. The incestuous feelings such actions could grow in a teenage mind, shown when he uses the peep hole for the first time to spy on Mom and Chet, are a reaction to that. 

But sometimes the film has Norma just be a crazy bitch for no reason, such as when she starts to tickle her son at his father's funeral and then chastises him for laughing. Moreover, for as much as Norman talks about his mother, we never learn much about his equal love and loathing of her. He talks about a mother being a boy's best friend and him being forced into the role of man-of-the-house at a young age. Yet his devotion to her is treated as a matter of fact. Norman did love his mother. He would not have felt such tremendous guilt over murdering her, such that his mind fractured into a facsimile of her, if he didn't. The script's attempts to describe this mostly appear in mawkish scenes like a recollection of a childhood picnic that ends in Norman saying "sometimes little boys feel like giants." A cheesy line that script then congratulates itself for. 

Writing that is both heavy-handed and frustratingly shallow infects all portions of the film. I like how CCH Pounder plays the radio host, as too curious and sympathetic to Norman to end their phone call. However, the dialogue in the recording booth is some of the corniest in the film. That plot thread also just disappears before the last act. While Norman's wife plays a pivotal role in the story, we never get any insight into her mind. What attracted her to such a notorious figure? That she went off birth control without telling her husband, well aware that he dreaded the idea of having a child, is glossed over. But that's kind of a crazy person thing to do too, ya know? The script repeatedly can't show us good reasons why women were repeatedly attracted to Norman. We see a teenage hook-up that ends in drag and stabbing – cause that's how Norman has sex, did ya know? – and a date with an older woman – cause she reminds him of his mom, right!!! – that also concludes with homicide. Both ladies seem pretty into Norman before he goes nuts. I guess women had fewer options in the forties and fifties but depicting Norman as charming or predatory would've made more sense. Here, it's like sexy ladies just keep throwing themselves at him, unknowingly baiting Mother to kill. It's a weird way to frame things. Norman Bates is sympathetic but let's not excuse his actions either. 

I like Mick Garris as a genre historian, fellow fan, and enthusiastic organizer of worthy retrospectives. But, God bless 'em, he's not a filmmaker of the quality of Alfred Hitchcock. Garris, true to form, is highly reverent of the original. This is the first "Psycho" sequel to use Bernard Hermann's famous melodies, which it does often and gratuitously. It treats the iconography of the original with awe and some of the cinematography, especially the scenes set in the shadowy studio or Bates' kitchen, is decent. However, whenever the film has to create suspense, it becomes apparent that this one does not have the same grasp on tension or visuals as previous Bates outings. That is especially clear during the laughably bad finale, where Norman is haunted by visions of his past victims. In those sequences, "Psycho IV" most reveals itself as a cheesy TV movie, a late-in-the-game cash-in designed to coast on an iconic name a little bit longer. Only a single scene, the gruesome way Norman's poisoning of mom and her boyfriend plays out, has any grim power. Probably because it's the only time the prequel balances Norman's dedication and hatred of his mother in any interesting way. 

That mawkish quality is evident in the performances too. Perkins' tendency towards melodramatics is on full display. Olivia Hussey was a grand dame of theatricality and that is well suited to an explosive personality like Norman Bates' mom. However, she can't overcome how unconvincing some of this writing is. Henry Thomas is okay as little Norman but mostly does a passable impression of a young Perkins. This one has its fans and it's a less egregious extension of the "Psycho" brand than "Bates Motel" was. However, I found the script and presentation ultimately let down an intriguing premise. [5/10]

Horror Theater Unbalance: A Mummy's Love
 

The production company started by Eiji Tsuburaya has mostly occupied itself over the decades with various versions of the “Ultraman” franchise. While not every show Tsuburaya Productions has made features some sort of superhero fighting giant monsters, most of them do. One exception is “Horror Theater Unbalance,” a 13 episode anthology program that aired in 1973. The series seems mostly forgotten in Japan, which means its incredibly obscure here in America. The only episode that is easily found with subtitles is the first, “A Mummy's Love.” That's probably because it was directed by Seijun Suzuki, who has garnered a global cult following for his weird yakuza movies. I still haven't watched much “Ultraman,” much to the chagrin of my fellow kaiju bros, and haven't liked the Suzuki movies I have seen. But let's give this one a shot anyway. 

The first half of “A Mummy's Love” is devoted to telling the folk tale at its center. It concerns a Buddhist monk who is buried alive, in hopes of achieving enlightenment. He holds a bell and rings it as he's entombed alive. A few centuries later, a student of Buddhism hears the ringing and digs up the grave. Inside is the now mummified monk, still ringing his bell. The student gives the mummy food and water, his body slowly returning to normal. However, the mummy – soon nicknamed Josuke – doesn't seem to have found enlightenment in the tomb. He acts like a drooling simpleton, eats meat, and seems most interested in pursuing sexual relations with women. While Josuke finds a widow to shack up with, she tires of his indefatigable lust soon and kicks him out. Afterwards, Josuke becomes a menace in town, harassing every woman he finds. The second half of the story concerns the framing device, about the ailing professor telling this story and his recently widowed assistant, whom he seems to harbor similarly lusty feelings for. 

After a cordial introduction from a narrator in a chair, “A Mummy's Love” is further introduced by a skeleton, warning us that it is a shocking tale. Despite that opening, the tone here seems more farcical than frightening. After being uncovered, the mummified corpse is tossed around like a beach ball. He's mocked by people in town. The scene of him and the only woman willing to sleep with him going at it for nearly a week is obviously a gag. There's a weird shot of Josuke sticking his ass out while wearing a loin-cloth and his overall behavior would probably ruffle the feathers of disability representation organizations today. The second half of the episode is more ominous but in a sad way, concerning the young woman's inability to move on from her husband's death. This proceeds an ending as characterized by frustrated sexual desires as the rest of the episode, that is also quite ambiguous and unexplained. 

In other words, this is a weird one. If this episode is any indication, the series' title is apt. The tone is clearly unbalanced while the content is nutty enough to suggest the creators were quite unbalanced too. The main thematic thrust of the story seems to revolve around the protagonist's frustration at Josuke, despite having died and been resurrected, not having become enlightened. Instead, it would seem that a 200 year old case of blue balls is a much more powerful force than achieving nirvana. A desire for companionship and sex drives all the characters here, suggesting we live in a world of the flesh and not of the spirit. I'm not sure it all comes together but it's certainly not forgettable. In other words, it seems Suzuki barely restrained the eccentric qualities that got him black-listed for a decade when working for television. [6/10]

 

Friday the 13th: The Great Montarro
 

Considering it does not seem to be an especially common profession, stage magicians are unusually well represented in fiction. “Friday the 13th: The Series” tries its (slight-of) hand at this common trope with “The Great Montarro.” After a well respected illusionist is found killed by his own stage gimmick, a competition opens to find a new magician to take up residence at the theater. Jack suspects one of them has a cursed artifact, a trick box of mysterious origin. While he poses as an escape artist, Micki and Ryan snoop around. The eventual winner of the contest is The Great Montarro and he seems very suspicious, especially since people keep dying around him. As with all stage magic, not everything is as it seems. 

As far as mysteries go, “The Great Montarro” is not the most coherent. Maybe I just wasn't paying enough attention but I was never sure what goal exactly the villain of the week was pursuing. Much less what made it so valuable to kill multiple people over. One of the victims we see is a man disguised as a woman, a bit of gender-fuckery that seemingly has no narrative purpose. The mechanics behind this week's cursed artifact also left me a little confused. It would seem that whoever gets placed inside the box will be impaled by the falling swords in place of the magician. What there is to be gained from doing this, I must have missed. The episode rolls along at a fast enough pace, with enough exciting sequences, that I only found myself asking these questions as I assemble this review. 

It's okay though. Before every season of television became an eight-to-twelve hour long movie, TV shows were just about hanging out with some lovable dip shits every week. I guess “Friday the 13th: The Series” has successfully seduced me as, six episodes in, I'm finding myself simply enjoying spending time with Ryan, Micki, and Jack. Chris Wiggins really excels at getting to be a theatrical, slightly pompous, but always self-effacing goof. Which means stage magic is right up Jack's alley and gives his actor a fine chance to do what he's good at. Louise Robey as Micki gets to wear fancy outhits while John D. LeMay as Ryan gets to snoop and investigate. In other words, everyone is having fun and it leads to some elaborate set pieces. I seem to recall, from “Crystal Lake Memories,” that “Friday the 13th: The Series” was somewhat controversial at the time for its violence. This episode is a bit on the bloodier side, surely one of the other limited ways the eponymous film series actually influenced this otherwise unrelated TV spin-off. [6/10]

Halloween 2026: September 14th

 

The Bride! (2026)
 

On the page, she was less of a character and more of a plot device. In chapter 22 of Mary Shelley's novel, Victor Frankenstein's creation demands his “father” make him a companion. At the last minute, Vic gets the jitters and tears the un-animated flesh homunculus apart. That was the extent of the character's original appearance. When William Hurlbut very loosely adapted the story to cinema in 1935, she was at least given a pulse, a swan's hiss of a voice, and an iconic hair-do. Her screen time also maxed out at about four minutes and she was still without name. She was The Monster's Mate in the credits. On the marquee, and in the public consciousness, she'll always be The Bride of Frankenstein. As men often do, we became enamored despite only getting a glimpse. Despite the briefness of her roots, the Bride has often reappeared alongside her groom. Sometimes she gets a name of her own too, like Eva or Pandora or Lily. Feminist readings of Shelley's work are, obviously, common. This has lead to many attempts to provide such a reading of a character who has always been known as an extension of a man. A big budget attempt arrived in March of 2026, emphatically entitled “The Bride!” Some accused it of being a fiasco, others admired it, a few said it was a future cult classic. Obviously, as a bit of a “Frankenstein”-head myself, I was waiting to formulate my own opinion. 

In 1936 Chicago, the spirit of Mary Shelley possesses a gangster's moll named Ida. She is pushed down the stairs, snapping one leg and dying from a blow to the head. Not long afterwards, Frankenstein's monster seeks out a doctor named Cornelia Euphironius. He asks of her to make him a companion, after being alone for a hundred years. They dig up Ida's body and reanimate her. She has only brief remains of her memory and is furthered scattered by Shelley's spirit continuing to randomly speak through her. Frank tells her that she's his bride. After some jerks assault her outside a night club, the monster gruesomely murders the men. The reanimated corpses are now fugitives. Their bond grows as they travel the country. They see a bunch of movies starring Frank's favorite song-and-dance man, Ronnie Reed. Ida, now convinced her name is Penelope, accidentally triggers a revolution of feminist rage. Sometimes, they kill some more people. A detective named Jake Wiles, along with his hyper-confident secretary Myrna, pursue the monsters. He has a connection to Ida's past, which the newly christened Bride will soon uncover herself. 

Most of the negative reviews of “The Bride!” high-lighted the film's biggest swings. The movie quite sincerely begins with Mary Shelley's ghost announcing herself as the author of “Frankenstein.” Multiple visions or dream sequences are featured. Sometimes these will roll over into the stated reality of the film without warning. There are multiple musical numbers. Sometimes featuring willfully anachronistic song choices, at least two of which are songs already associated with “Frankenstein.” The climax is a slo-mo shoot-out. It is, to say the least, bold. It is also a lot. The performances are pitched at Nic Cage-ian levels of over-the-top from the first minute and never really calm down. The dialogue is laced with screamed profanity. There are several frantic monologues. When violence and sexual assault occur, it's graphic. The script rarely stops to give the audience much time to catch up with some of its narrative choices and the thematic ideas are often endlessly jumbled atop each other. The film is coming at you so hard, all the time, that the result is both impressive and embarrassing for everyone involved. 

Sometimes, the film's full-throated belief in its own ideas left me staring in disbelief. Such as whenever Mary Shelley's ghost interacts with the title character, which usually results in her spitting out loosely linked words. One of those aforementioned dance numbers has the main duo being backed up by the people around them going into bone-crunching, spasmodic gyrations for no particular reasons. Other times, I found myself enjoying the film's unbalanced amalgamation of various thirties film genre. Frank's love of classic musicals is a cute reoccurring detail, the ultimate outsider imagining himself as a smoothly moving star on the screen. The film most finds its footing when the monster couple emerge as undead Bonnie and Clydes, road tripping across depression era America and causing trouble whenever it suits them. Jessie Buckley and Christian Bale's theatrical vamping can sometimes be overbearing, both performers very aware of how much Acting they are doing. Penelope Cruz, meanwhile, is operating on the exact right level of stylized camp as a fast-talking, hyper-observant “His Girl Friday” type character. Maybe Maggie Gyllenhaal should have just made the whole movie about her instead. 

If “The Bride!” was just an overly ambitious mash-up of Frankenstein, classic gangster flicks, and old-time musicals high on its own supply, it would probably have been better received. However, Gyllenhaal's film also had to be a grand feminist statement. By which I mean, the film contains a half-formed subplot that is basically “Joker For the Ladies.” Ida/Penelope seems able to intrinsically or psychically feel other women's trauma. This leads to a scene of her listing off grievances in a crowded dance hall. It seemingly inspires women all over the country to paint their faces and tongues like her ink-splotch pattern and go on violent rampages against men, while screaming out catch-phrases and slogans taken from Ida's ramblings. It's another willfully anachronistic element in the film, as it's difficult to imagine a Fourth Wave Feminist uprising like that appearing in 1936. Much the same way “Joker” featured its murderous clown protagonist inspiring indiscriminate violent protests that did not seem to have any actual political ideology or rationale behind them, this subplot comes across as vague gesturing at broad social injustices. In this case, Women Be Persecuted, that has no depth nor any actual scruples behind it.

We can tell that “The Bride!'s” womanly rage is, if not insincere, at least poorly thought out. From the moment the Bride and Frankenstein meet, he is constructing their past together. He invents stories about how they met, how they got married, their sex lives, and more. He's been lying to her and manipulating her. When Ida discovers this, she's understandably upset and decides to call off their relationship... Before the last act essentially sees her take him back through a convoluted series of events. This dovetails with the detective subplot, which has Peter Sarsgaard – Gyllenhaal's husband, it must be noted – apologizing for all his past grievances against specific women and women in general. The way that thread resolves itself feels like one long asterisk on the movie's man-hating philosophy. Yes, personal and social boundaries between men and women are very complicated. Where love and desire fit in throughout true equality between the sexes and reparations against the historically awful treatment of women is a lot to consider. At the same time, stopping your diatribe against the mass abuse of womankind to insert a few “#NotAllMen!” moments feels curiously wrongheaded. 

Then again, “curiously wrongheaded” is probably an apt description for “The Bride!” overall. In addition to all its other high-minded ideas and various pastiches, I think the movie is also a meta-textual riff on the creation of “Frankenstein” itself. Making Mary Shelley a character suggests that the story of “Frankenstein” exists as both a fictional narrative and a real event within the film's universe. Light spoilers here, possibly: I think the ending of implies that somehow the knowledge of these events was sent back in time and inspired the writing of the novel in the first place? It's not very clear. Tie these weird narrative swings together with the bizarre tonal shifts, ruminations on men and women that are both way too obvious and contradictory, and a general tendency for the movie to be nutty or abrasive a lot of the time... It's not surprising many critics were simply baffled by “The Bride!” At the same time, I can't entirely dismiss the movie simply because it is so bold and so specific. Gyllenhaal had Some Thoughts and Feelings and this motion picture is an expression of them. It is confused mess, the kind of campy spectacle that begs people to hate it, but I can't dismiss it either. [6/10]

 

Bates Motel (1987)

“Psycho” becoming a multi-media franchise is kind of funny, when you think about it. It's a story of murder and sex, considered so shocking and upsetting in 1960 that it nearly changed the direction of horror single-handedly, and based on an extremely gruesome true crime case. How does that end up on lunch boxes and doing cross-band synergy with Hello Kitty? However, the facade of the hotel and Bates house have been part of the Universal Studios tram tour since 1964. While the theatrical “Psycho” sequels were a little more respectable to the legacy of the original, this cannot be said for all the cinematic extensions of the Bates brand. In the late eighties, “The Hitchhiker” creator Richard Rothstein would attempt to build a similar quasi-anthology show around “Psycho's” most infamous landmark. The pilot was poorly received and NBC burnt it off as a TV movie in the summer off-season of 1987. I'm fascinated by ill-conceived spin-offs of beloved properties, which meant I obviously had to write about this.

Well, everyone knows Norman Bates was paroled in 1983 and resumed his stabby shenanigans shortly afterwards. What “Bates Motel” presupposes is... Maybe, while institutionalized, he would befriend a young psycho-in-training named Alex West. The two would become so close that, after his passing, Norman would will the family hotel and home to this guy. With Norman's ashes in hand, Alex heads to Fairvale fully intending to honor his late friend's wishes. He learns that, in addition to the reputation of Norman and his mom's murders, the motel is also said to be haunted. He instead finds a struggling actress named Willie squatting in the derelict hotel. The two misfits become pals and Willie helps Alex re-launch the business. That's when a suicidal woman named Barbara arrives and rents the room, encountering some ghosts of her own.

The role of black comedy within Alfred Hitchcock's work has often been discussed and analyzed. Grim as “Psycho” is, it too has shades of a puckish sense of humor within it. This makes the idea of a comedic “Psycho”-inspired series not as unexpected as it sounds. However, that doesn't explain the logic behind the decision to turn “Bates Motel” into a full-blown farce. And not like a good, Marx Brothers farce either. The tone throughout much of “Bates Motel” is that of hacky, eighties sitcom buffoonery. Billie is introduced in a colorful chicken mascot costume, a gag that comes back several times. Billie's aggressively eccentric shenanigans includes dropping a plate while making meatloaf and leaving the shards of porcelain in with the meal. An earlier scene has a pair of bums – Buck Flowers and Carmen Filip, forever type-cast – attempting to drink the urn of Norman's ashes, mistaking it for a liquor bottle. The opening montage establishes a flippant tone, aggravatingly self-aware of its own corniness. This is consistent throughout, resulting in a “Psycho” spin-off that feels like an episode of “Three's Company” or something. 

It is a very odd tone to attach to what is ostensibly a sequel to one of the all-time great horror films. It is far from the only odd choice made here. The perspective “Bates Motel” series would have featured something like a “Fantasy Island” or “Love Boat” type set-up. While Alex and Billie would presumably be reoccurring characters, a new motel guest every week would bring with them a new B-plot. This element of “Bates Motel” doesn't appear until the movie is half-way over, after nearly an hour devoted to Alex buying and refurbishing the motel. The result is a lumpily paced film that randomly introduces a new story in the last third. The plot itself is of debatable merit. Khrystyne Haje is a suicidal woman whose depression manifests more as bursts of moping, that quickly turn around when people are nice to her. She encounters a group of partying teenagers with a strangely fifties style about them. It's obvious immediately that these kids are ghosts, youngsters who took their own lives and have returned from the great beyond to convince someone on the edge to do otherwise. The script approaches a very morose premise with nothing but a detached sentimentality, making it clear that a depression so crushing that someone considers ending themselves was not being taking very seriously. Sling-shoting from the slapstick comedy of the first half to the maudlin, if deeply insincere, melodrama of the second is baffling

I suppose one must also consider the validity of the premise, of the Bates Motel becoming a nexus point of supernatural activity. I mean, stupider premises have supported longer running shows. However, a nostalgic party of ghostly teens does seem like an odd companion piece to a story of serial murder and repressed sexuality. The other horror element of the film does feature a approximation of Mrs. Bates, wielding a knife. The conclusion of which is rather “Scooby-Doo”-ish, in both execution and resolution. Whether Alex and Billie could support a weekly series is also questionable. The recently passed Bud Cort, with his diminutive form and bug eyes, could easily bring an air of weirdo menace to the part. Instead, he plays Alex as almost childish in his naivety, such a pure soul that it's weird when you remember the character is already a murderer. Lori Petty plays Billie and it's the typical kind of role you got Lori Petty for. The character is a textbook Manic Pixie Dream Girl, existing only to uplift a socially awkward guy. Petty's always charming eccentric energy is a plus though. A scene where the two share a kiss is one of the few moments when I feel like I was watching actual human beings in “Bates Motel.” 

One cannot be surprised that “Bates Motel” would fail to go to series. The entire film is so stiflingly ill-conceived that I'm a little surprised it made it to air at all. I was left being reminded of the “Star Wars Holiday Special,” a made-for-TV spin-off of a beloved and highly influential film franchise that, rather than attempt to adapt the original's tone to the medium, sticks it within the crushing constraints of then television cliches. It even ends with a fourth wall break, furthering the campy TV artifact atmosphere. Perhaps some musical numbers or unsubtitled Wookie shenanigans would have enlivened this. Unlike that notorious piece of television, Universal has made no efforts to suppress “Bates Motel's” existence. It used to re-air on the Sci-Fi Channel with some regularity and has remained in-print on DVD. And eventually someone did launch a successful “Psycho” TV show named “Bates Motel,” though it was more connected to the film. Now, whether I would rather watch this again or endure more serialized genre television tedium is a question I would rather not consider... [3/10]
 

 

Dead of Night: Return Flight
 

Another partially lost BBC horror short-runner from the seventies, the two episodes of “Dead of Night” I previously wrote about are among the eeriest horror television I've ever seen. “Return Flight” is the last of the series' installments know to still exist. It concerns Captain Hamish Rolph, an airline pilot whose wife has recently died. On a late night flight, he must suddenly steer the plane to avoid colliding with another plane... He seems to think it was a WWII bomber but that couldn't be possible, could it? His boss and friend Frank Warley tries to check on Hamish's mental health. He longs for his dead wife, resents his absent daughter, and is nostalgic for his brief days as a pilot in the war. He's also having reoccurring visions of events from the Blitz, as if the past is interrupting the present. Further investigation shows that a landing strip used to exist near where Hamish had his incident. This has deadly consequences. 

From the episodes that remain, it is clear that “Dead of Night” represented an extremely British style of horror story. Namely, one that favored foreboding atmosphere over any loud shocks or visceral thrills. The chills “The Exorcism” and “A Woman Sobbing” generated existed almost entirely in the realm of implication. Both episodes created an unsettling feeling by focusing in on a protagonist's journeys. They also made the limited settings of a British television budget work for them, creating an enclosing sense of isolation. “Return Flight” is similarly low-key in its attempts at scares. This is an hour mostly devoted to people standing around in rooms and talking. There are no attacking ghosts or obviously disturbing visions. The horror of the situation does not reveal itself until the final scene, which is delivered with the same understated dryness that you expect from those Brits and their stiff-upper-lips. 

Peter Barksworth gives a good performance as Hamish, subtly conveying the complicated mixture of grief and bitterness his wife's death awoke in him. Like many an older gentlemen, he longs for his youth. In particular, he longs for a glorious wartime experience he never got to live out. The war ended right after Hamish got drafted, denying him the chance to kill Nazis or die on the battle field. It's an interesting idea but “Return Flight” is sadly too understated. We are not fully allowed into the protagonist's mind. We only get brief mentions of his absent daughter. Or of how the memory of his wife's first husband hung over their marriage. The script is mostly about other people talking about the man's history. The episode would've done better to actually show us these things. Or, at least, give us more of a peek into the lonely life the man is now living. 

Also in keeping with the style of BBC ghost stories, “Return Flight” never outright explains the circumstances of what is happening. Clearly, this is a story about the past lingering around and refusing to stay dead. This was also true of “The Exorcism” and “A Woman Sobbing,” both tales of past spirits taking control of or beckoning to the living. (From what information we have about the lost episodes, it sounds like this was true of most of “Dead of Night.”) However, those scripts married the premise to themes of class inequality or feminine isolation. “Return Flight” can't quite make the same point about boomer idealization of the golden age or the scars World War II left on London. The result is an installment where it feels like nothing much happens, delivered in such a manner as to feel dull. A little bit of tension rises in the lead-up to the final note, getting at the idea of professionals trying to stay calm and not panic as the situation begins to spiral out of control. Exactly what you would expect the feeling on an airplane about to drop out of the sky to be. “Return Flight” needed more of that. [5/10]

Friday the 13th: The Series: Hellowe'en
 

Every TV show with even a little bit of a spooky vibe about it should do at least one Halloween themed episode. “Friday the 13th: The Series” got to it pretty early, by the fifth broadcast. Ryan throws a Halloween party in the antique's shop. Micki is a little uncertain about having so many people In the building but is reassured that all the evil objects are safely kept in the vault. Jack entertains the guests before some trouble-makers sneak into the aforementioned vault of evil. They awaken a ghastly presence: The ghost of Uncle Lewis. He tricks Micki and Ryan into grabbing a pendent that makes his spirit flesh. With the assistance of a mischievous imp sidekick, Lewis or the demon impersonating him attempts to fulfill a diabolic ritual before the sun rises. 

Five episodes in was definitely too early for “Friday the 13th” to set a story within its own collection of horrific artifacts. The heroes haven't been collecting them for that long! Despite that, Curious Goods is the best location the show has and I don't blame the producers for wanting to take advantage of that. The place looks cooler yet when decked out for a Halloween party. Once again, the scenes of Jack simply vamping in a silly costume and intoning about some bullshit like Tarot or Arthurian lore is the most entertaining element of the show. A shot of a glowing crystal ball or fog billowing across the location's floor, while Jack-O-Lanterns and costumed revelers are near-by, is this show reaching “The Haunted Mansion” levels of corny Halloween vibes. I approve of that. 

Unfortunately, “Friday the 13th: The Series” does not build the entire episode around its Halloween party premise. In fact, that side of the story and most of the October 31st energy is abandoned once Uncle Lewis' ghost shows up. I like the idea of the show centering its nebulous collection of threats around a single villain. Uncle Lewis immediately turning evil after coming back as a spirit seems to run counter to his crisis of conscience in the first episode. I do enjoy R.G. Armstrong getting a chance to ham it up a bit. This is the sole credit of Victoria Deslaurier, the short actress who plays the demonic little person. She's having a good time but I always feel a little bad when a small person gets cast as some sort of fantasy creature. There are some amusing shenanigans in this one, such as when Micki almost gets cremated alive. Jack and Uncle Lewis' ghost have a chant-off at the end, which made me chuckle. I do like how the final scene builds on the lore a little – Jack was in love with Lewis' wife – and ominously points towards the impending Friday the 13th as some sort of climatic event. [6/10]

 

Halloween 2026: September 13th

 

Psycho III (1986)
 

Of the role of Norman Bates, Tony Perkins once said "I know this story. I should. I've lived with it – and sometimes tried to live it down – for more than 20 years." It's true that Perkins was frequently reluctant to embrace his status as a horror icon. Right after "Psycho" came out, he moved to Europe specifically to avoid typecasting. At the same time, the character of Norman Bates was too emblematic of the man himself: A smiling, sensitive boy-next-door being eaten alive by the secret he can't totally conceal. Perkins would always insist that it was the quality of the screenplays for the "Psycho" sequels that convinced him to return to the role. The star was supposedly enthusiastic about Charles Edward Pogues' script for "Psycho III" but another factor surely convinced him to put on Mother's dress for a third time: He would get to direct too, a strategy often effective in luring reluctant stars back to the franchises that both blessed and cursed them with immediate stardom. 

Though released three years after "Psycho II," the story is set a mere month later. Following part two's events, the local police are sympathetic to Norman and business is booming for the Bates Motel. Norm has to hire help, a drifter named Duke, to assist with running the place. None of them know that the taxidermied corpse of Emma Spool has taken Norma Bates' place in the rocking chair. A journalist arrives in town and is drawn to Spool's disappearance, convinced Bates has something to do with it. She's not the only stranger in Fairvale. Maureen is a nun who, after accidentally pushing another sister from a bell tower during a crisis of faith, fled into the desert. She ends up at the hotel too, inflaming Norman's lust and activating "Mother's" possessiveness. An intended shower murder instead turns into Norman rescuing Maureen from a suicide attempt. The two attempt a relationship of sorts but blood will soon be shed again...

When Universal first announced they were making a sequel to “Psycho” in the early eighties, I'm sure some folks fully expected a trashy slasher flick that would be an embarrassing stain on the legacy of Hitchcock's masterpiece. “Psycho II” decidedly was not that movie but “Psycho III” kind of is. Norman slashes a young woman's throat as she sits on the toilet after urinating. One of Duke's one-night-stands thrusts her breasts into the camera before being stabbed to death inside a telephone booth. The sex and nudity the original could only imply are on full display here. (Which would've included some male frontal nudity too, if Jeff Fahey hadn't been squeamish.) While some critics would surely be bothered by this, I happen to enjoy a trashy slasher sequel. “Psycho III's” blood lust is well engineered, with quality special effects and a certain ferocity to the violence. If you can swallow Norman Bates acting a bit more like Jason Voorhees than usual, you will find plenty more here to like too. 

For his directorial debut, Perkins was clearly trying to bring his trademark character into the modern age. Carter Burwell's score features none of the familiar themes and is largely synth-driven. Cinematographer Bruce Surtees was primarily Clint Eastwood's D.P. up to this point, which is probably why “Psycho III” focuses on the wide flatness of the desert around the motel more than the previous films. Or the clinging sweat to the actor's face, emphasizing the heat of the Arizona nights. But westerns were not the key visual inspiration here. Rather, the sequel is heavy on neon lighting and askew camera angles. This pairs well with a plot that grows increasingly outrageous as it goes on. Improbable reversals of previous plot twists, a little blackmail, religious awe, and a dead body in a freezer are some of the additions grafted onto the “Psycho” premise here. It's all quite over-the-top and the sequel is aware of that. Perkins embraces the Hitckcockian tradition of winking, naughty, pitch black humor. “Psycho III” notably features a cut to a darkened room, a woman grunting and walls trembling... Before revealing that she's just struggling to open a freezer. Oh, what a scamp you are, “Psycho III!” 

The extra layer of sleaziness atop “Psycho III” is not strictly for its own purpose. After her suicide attempt, Maureen visits a priest, asking him about the nature of sin and carnal thoughts. Accordingly, the sequel surrounds its characters with temptation. Duke, a total sleazeball who nearly assaults Maureen in his first scene, is always looking to get laid. The partiers celebrating the sports team ask Norman to join them. Of course, Norman isn't merely being tempted by sex. The minute he catches a glimpses of Maureen, he is transfixed and terrified. When he sees that her initials are the same as Marion Crane, he has to leave the room. Upon learning that Duke has put the girl up in Room 1, he is drawn to the familiar peep hole on the wall. It's almost as if the world is actively pushing Norman's buttons, urging him to return to his old, murderous ways. That's how any addict or ex-con feels: You are forced back into a society fully expecting you to still be bad and countless opportunities to do so are placed right in front of you. Almost as if they are set-up to fail, ya know?

Through this set-up, “Psycho III” builds on the second film's themes of forgiveness. The first sequel asked if someone like Norman Bates can ever be forgiven for such salacious crimes. Or if such a judgemental attitude is ultimately fair to a person forged into a killer by an abusive parent. The community of Fairvale seems ready to forgive their local notorious murderer. The narrative hands Norman a girlfriend who is happy to match his freak, a female returning his attraction for the first time in the series' history. Ultimately, as much as Norma Bates' control over her son extends beyond the grave, Norman is the Master Bates of his own destiny. He must forgive himself, must let go of the pain of the past and accept that a hopeful future is possible, if he's ever going to put his stabbing days behind him. 

And if “Psycho III” is a meta movie as much about Perkins' own career as about the character, maybe that conclusion has a personal resonance. Is this the actor/director accepting that he can't resent his association with this character? If we presume an even deeper connection, is this some sort of statement by Perkins on his own, often scrutinized sexuality? It's hard to say. (Especially since he would deny his queerness shortly before dying from AIDS-related complications.) The film must conform to the expectations of a grisly horror flick. Norman's love is ultimately doomed, in a way as overheated and knowingly absurd as the rest of the film. While the sequel plays coy for a while, it ultimately does give Bates-in-Drag his rock star reveal. The sequel is happily to escalate things, most notably in a tense sequence that puts Norman in the front seat of a car as it goes into the swamp. The twist on the last movie's twist that part three provides, intentionally or not, suggest that evil is hereditary. Which means Norman doesn't have any choice over his actions. This is further supported by the before-the-credits teaser, a last minute addition because Universal execs feared the ending wasn't “scary” enough. 
 

If part three is not the sturdiest film on a thematic level, that doesn't effect its ability to entertain. It turns out, going full coked-up DePalma was the right choice for this series. “Psycho III” is knowingly ridiculous and absurd but is clearly having so much fun with that. The stylish visuals and pulsating soundtrack makes this all the more of a sleazy head-trip. Perkins' performance is at maximum twitchiness, Norman stuttering from the first scene. Any movie that begins with a nun plummeting to her death is already daring the audience to accuse it of going too far, the sequel continuing to press those buttons as it goes along. If “Psycho” was always doomed to just become another slasher series, at least those in-charge were determined to make sure they had fun with it. The film also belongs to one of the most delightful of horror micro-genres: Movies that got tie-in music videos where the “monster” pursues someone in new footage. Irresistible. [8/10]

 

The Ape Man (1943)  

Silver Age comic nerds know that it's a fact – or at least an anecdote repeated so frequently that it's become a fact – that books with some sort of ape on the cover moved more copies than non-ape festooned comics. B-movie producers of the forties and fifties seem to have been aware of this phenomenon as well. You could easily fill an entire day with Poverty Horror films from that period, featuring a gorilla. A few referred to the primates as “monsters,” surely disappointing cinema goers assuming that word means something a little more exotic than a well-studied and understood animal. Maybe it was just the lingering impact of “King Kong.” Or maybe it was because you can buy a gorilla outfit at any costume shop in the country, making them a cheap “monster” to put on-screen. Bela Lugosi starred in a few movies like this. 1943's “The Ape Man” is one of them, though it at least features a mad scientist having a questionable hair day. It was the fifth of the widely distributed but rarely lauded nine films Lugosi starred in for Monogram Pictures and the second to directed by William “One-Shot” Beaudine. 

“Gland doctor” James Brewster has vanished and this is apparently headline news A group of reporters gather at the dock to interview Brewster's sister, a ghost hunter named Agatha, as she steps off a boat. She meets with Dr. Randall, Brewster's colleague, who informs her that the story of the man's disappearance is a hoax. Instead, the truth is much stranger: During their experiments with a gorilla, Brewster transformed himself into a human/ape hybrid. He now hides in the underground lab, sleeping in the same cage as the ape test subject. Injections of spinal fluid can momentarily undo the change but the samples most come from freshly dead donors. After Randall makes it clear that he's unwilling to kill for his friend, Brewster decides to do it himself. His gorilla bunk mate does the throat crushing and Agatha helps cover it up.. Reporter Jeff Carter, and his newly assigned female photographer Billie Mason, end up investigating. 
 

Monogram and Beaudine made these movies so quickly and so cheaply, that it's genuinely hard to say what tonal choices were intentional or not. Like the slightly later “Voodoo Man,” “The Ape Man” can charitably be described as goofy. To convey his character's transformation into a gorilla hybrid, Lugosi hunches his shoulders downward and limps around in an oddly skipping fashion. He often grows annoyed with his gorilla minion, played by an actor with awfully soulful eyes in an extremely shitty looking gorilla suit. This results in multiple sequences of Lugosi attempting to intimidate or whip the beast back, the result only being comical. There are long stretches without dialogue, where Lugosi and his gorilla buddy are wandering around and making faces at each other. It becomes utterly impossible not to imagine sarcastic dialogue between the two in these moments. When combined with awkwardly framed moments, like Lugosi and his monkey minion sneaking up on multiple people, I found myself laughing at a lot of “The Ape Man.”

Also like “Voodoo Man,” some of this silliness was intentional. The movie has a definite comedic streak. Wallace Ford plays our journalist hero and, in typical Wallace Ford fashion, he's prone to making smart-alack remarks. Most of these asides are sexist comments directed at Louise Currie's heroine. Ford's character seems to find it difficult to accept that a woman could be a photographer and he often denigrates her presence. That's funny mostly because it's such a defined relic of antiquated he-man chauvinism, though the film seems to consider it witty romantic banter. The first scene also features a vagrant in a hat, who seems oddly well informed about everything that's happening around him. He reoccurs a few times, watching actions from the distance. At one point, he redirects a potential victim of the villain to spare her life. Who the hell this guy is or why he's here is not revealed until the final scene and it's another fourth wall breaking punchline. None of these elements are as funny as the sight of Lugosi lumbering around with a very Hasidic looking beard. However, they were obviously put in the movie on-purpose. “The Ape Man” wants us to giggle at least a little. 

Again, it's hard to give the makers of “The Ape Man” too much credit for making a self-aware horror/comedy. The film is exceedingly cheap, most of the scenes taking place in a collection of mundane looking rooms and offices. Beaudine's direction is utterly flat, most of the sequences being staged like community theater. While cinematographer Mack Stengler throws in one or two neat shots of shadows on the wall, the film is mostly extremely boring to look at. Plot wise, “The Ape Man” is basically a re-trend of Lugosi's earlier “Murders in the Rue Morge.” Dr. Brewster describes feeling more bestial and ape-like at times, as if his sanity is slipping away. His gorilla-assisted murder spree is implicitly a result of his unstable mind. However, the lack of money and creativity denies Lugosi a proper chance to play a full Jekyll and Hyde or werewolf scenario. He does however make several Frankenstein-like growls. “The Ape Man” was released in theaters about a week after “Frankenstein Meets the Wolfman's” Hollywood premiere, so it's hard to say which one was filmed first. Was this a test-run for Lugosi's one-off tenure as Frankenstein's Monster or was that character simply on his mind from playing it recently? 

As a Bela fan, “The Ape Man” is honestly a somewhat depressing watch. The scene where Lugosi sits in a chair and ruefully talks about the mistakes in his life that led to this point is the most soulful bit of acting he does. Knowing the financial and personal failures that led him to starring in movies for Monogram, it's hard not to read a sad level of real life subtext in that line. He does get one other good line, when threatening his sister, but mostly the goofy physicality defines the role. Also like most of the Monogram 9, the pacing drags and the plot wanders around without clear direction a few times. I don't think we needed all those scenes of Wallace Ford trying to figure out how to open the secret passage way behind the fireplace. The villain's sister being a ghost hunter, most of the newsroom banter, and war-time references never genuinely effect the plot. This is, in other words, a bad movie, cheap and derivative and sloppy and not notable for much at all. But I did laugh a lot and that final scene is really baffling, so I won't call this time entirely wasted either. [6/10]

Ghost Story: The Dead We Leave Behind
 

During last year's Halloween shenanigans, I mentioned an obscure anecdote. In Stephen King's “Danse Macabre,” he credits an episode of obscure, short-lived seventies anthology “Quinn Martin's Tales of the Unexpected” with giving him the proper willies. However, the scene he describes is actually from an episode of a different obscure, short-lived seventies anthology. It's actually from “Ghost Story's” first non-pilot episode, “The Dead We Leave Behind.” Park Ranger Elliot Brent resides in a cabin in the woods with his much younger wife, Joanna. The two do not seem to enjoy each others' company and she spends most of her time glued to the TV. This irritates Brent. After a spirited argument, he accidentally throttles his wife to death. Rather than take responsibility for the crime, he buries her body in the woods. Afterwards, he begins to have unsettling visions via the same television Joanna favored so much, of his victim rising from the dirt for revenge. He ends up putting some other bodies in the ground, similar mysterious dreams – or are they premonitions? – following. 

While writing about “Shadows of Fear” yesterday, I made the observation that it was a worthwhile piece of television despite starting deeply unlikable characters. “The Dead We Leave Behind” also follows a terrible person. Jason Robards plays Park Ranger Brent as a man perpetually in a grumpy mood. I don't know why he married Stella Stevens, as he seems to actively resent her presence. Granted, a TV buzzing inane bullshit all day would grate on my nerves after a while too. However, Brent would rather listen to the squawking cacophony of his CB radio instead. Is that any better? In general, the script doesn't give the protagonist much depth. Robards has a certain gravelly charisma but mostly the episode made me wonder why I should care about this asshole's life at all.

“The Dead We Leave Behind” also doesn't have the clearest internal logic. There are references to local beliefs about burying the dead as soon as possible, least their spirits rise. That is the only set-up for the supernatural events that follow. The episode is clearly trying to play out like a nightmare, a man's guilt over his actions manifesting as bad dreams. However, Robards' character doesn't seem to feel any remorse for his actions, so that doesn't work. The repetitive nature of his visions get boring fast, spoiling any creep factor it has. We need a little more pulp to this set-up for it too work as some “Tales from the Crypt” style supernatural comeuppance. I do like Sebastian Cabot as “Ghost Story's” host in framing device. I also enjoy the suggestion here that the hotel he oversees is less a regular hotel and more some sort of afterlife. But “Ghost Story” remains an inconsistent series and this episode is one of the weaker ones. Sorry, Uncle Steve. [5/10]

 

Friday the 13th: The Series: A Cup of Time
 

“Friday the 13th: The Series” attempts to tie together several seemingly unrelated ideas. Someone in town is murdering homeless people. They goad them into drinking from a cursed tea cup, after which they mysteriously suffocate to death. Meanwhile, pop star Lady Die is in town, preparing for a big concert. Bertie, an older woman who seems to have a crush on Jack, is desperately trying to attract him despite his lack of interest. (The show seems to treat her as someone we should recognize but this is her first appearance.) However, after getting one look at Lady Die, she seems to recognize her as an old friend. Yes, Lady Die is the tea cup murderer, which gives its owner renewed youth in exchange for a regular supply of victims. Also, there's a homeless little girl that Micki quasi-adopts for the reminder of the episode but that's not so important. 

“A Cup of Time” is the first episode of “Friday the 13th: The Series” to actually remind me of the movies it is named after. The beginning is a P.O.V. shot of someone prowling through the underbrush and sneaking up on a napping person. Nearer to the end, there's a sequence of someone getting chased through the forest by an unhinged old woman. While murder is prominently featured, there's no resemblance otherwise to the slasher roots of this program. “A Cup of Time” is another “Friday the 13th” episode that is heavy on the goofiness. Once again, the premise itself is underwhelming. A tea cup is not a scary prop. The effects used to bring its evil actions to life are extremely creaky stop-motion sequences of vines creeping out of the cup and strangling the drinker to death. That the villain must convince everyone to drink from the cup in order to facilitate these murders further stretches plausibility. At one point, she tempts someone by saying that a cup of hot tea is comforting on a warm night. To whom, exactly? 

This is paired with another weirdly prevalent trope in Canadian eighties genre TV: Highly unconvincing fictional pop stars. Naming your pop-punk princess Lady Die is clever. Unfortunately, the music we hear her sing is dreadful. Her big single is a Casio rock version of “I'm a Little Tea Pot.” It's as intolerable to listen to it as that sounds. It's also hard to believe that such an act would develop a die-hard fan base of New Wave kids. While there's some definite meat on the bone of idea of connecting a homicidal desire for youth with the pressures of the entertainment industry, “A Cup of Time” never finds any substance. Its plot threads feel unrelated. Also the make-up used to turn Lady Die into an old hag looks like a cheap Halloween mask of Grandpa from “Texas Chain Saw Massacre.” This is the third episode in a row to feature Jack putting on a disguise and unconvincing voice, so I guess that's going to happen a lot. Needed more inappropriate flirting between cousins. [5/10]