Halloween 2026: September 25th

Insidious: Out of the Further (2026)

Maybe it’s simply the long Covid talking but “Insidious” feels like a horror series from another time. It has been about fifteen years since the original one came out and the world has changed so much since then. Horror films about ghosts or demons with vague, one-word, descriptive titles feel like a relic of The Before Times. In spite of that, the series remains a very serious on-going concern for Blumhouse Productions. The fifth installment made enough money that a spin-off film and a live theatrical experience were both announced. Well, that spin-off movie still hasn’t materialized and the live show was canceled after a few performances. However, this summer still saw the release of a new main entry in the “Insidious” series. Subtitled “Out of the Further,” it was written and directed by Jacob Chase, director of the second or third saddest thing Gillian Jacobs has been in since “Community” got canceled. 

As a child, Gemma Hall lived with her mother as she slowly went insane before witnessing her commit suicide via repeated facial trauma to a wall. As an adult, she has tried to put this behind her. She’s a successful dental hygienist, has a steady boyfriend, and is very close to her daughter, Maya. The two currently live in the same home Gemma grew up in. Three strange residents move into the house across the street, after which Gemma begins to have strange visions. She is attacked by ghostly spectres in a misty netherworld. Yes, Gemma is actually astral projecting into the Further, a fact confirmed by the spirit of medium Elise Rainer. Elise informs Gemma that she has the ability to transport objects and souls from the Further into the physical world. That this skill has made her the target of a cult based in the Further, whose leader promises to resurrect the undead spirits and who are supported by living acolytes in the waking world.

When I watched all the “Insidious” movies as part of my James Wan retrospective a while back, I repeatedly called the franchise’s mythos silly and/or stupid. Save for a supporting role for Lin Shaye’s dead-but-still-kickin’ character, “Out of the Further” is a stand-alone story built entirely upon the series’ established lore. Which is to say it is extremely silly and stupid. There's one or two interesting ideas here. The concept of living people accessing the Further via sedatives had potential. Elise communicating with the living world through a medium, a punky tattoo artist played by Maisie Richardson-Sellers, isn't the worst way to keep that character in the story. However, the more "Out of the Further" reveals about its story, the more convoluted it starts to feel. The idea of a cult made up of ghosts, residing on this astral plain, or being able to manifest things from the spiritual to physical realms strike me as desperate and somewhat confusing attempts to add more novelty to this universe. "Insidious" has always been somewhat vague concerning the rules governing its ghostly realm and these new additions only muddy the waters further. Of course, the last act focuses largely on these narrative devices, dispelling any spiritual connotations in favor entirely of brute force, comic book-style plotting. 

While I've always found "Insidious'" New Age spiritualism influenced backstory to be incredibly doofy, that's not the main reason "Out of the Further" is a tedious viewing experience. Past entries mixed in a little body horror with lots of jump scares and more atmospheric elements. The sixth installment focuses almost entirely on gross-out tactics. In particular, the film seems especially appalled by the bodies of the aging. The half-living Acolytes have deep eye sockets, patchy hair, yellowish skin, and hollow, soulless stares. If the viewer didn't get that we are meant to find the mere sight of old people gross, the sequel includes a mouthful of slimy, rotten teeth and a pile of used diapers. Desperate attempts at gross-out are all throughout the film. One of the reoccurring ghouls wears a permanent mouth depresser and is always leaking green slime. Another, laughably silly sequence features a whole horde of sickly, twitchy spirits. Including guys whose sole purpose is to lick dirty dishes or eat rats. "Out of the Further" has plenty of the series' trademark loud shrieks. They are usually paired with this juvenile ickiness or goofy touches. Such as a second pair of teeth exploding through an old man's rotten maulers or a chase scene through a tunnel of couch cushions. 

It all suggests that the creative forces behind the "Insidious" series have exhausted all other avenues of getting squeals out of audiences. The film sticks most of the franchise's star ghouls into brief cameos and instead brings back minor spookies for larger roles. I suppose giving the Doll Girl and other returning ghosts expanded presences was an attempt to get hoots out of hardcore "Insidious" fans. Assuming such a thing exists. Speaking for myself, I had forgotten about most of these guys. The new additions to the franchise's litany of horrors are deeply uninspired. The sequel bets big on "Carnival of Souls" style pasty faced ghouls, who sometimes burst through walls like zombies in a Romero film. Ghost Dentist or Little Girl with a Box Full of Teeth seem unlikely to become Halloween costumes or action figures to me. The main villain here is that ghostly cult leader. He is played by Sam Spruell in a bathrobe, face bandages, and a pointy finger accessory presumably purchased from Hot Topic. The greasy long hair and Mall Goth aesthetic once again strike me as lame holdovers from the era when people thought Marilyn Manson was actually scary. While Spruell has occasionally been compelling in his various bad guy roles, his work here is forgettable. 

Aside from miscalculated spectral villains and an insistence that the Further is a cool name for a ghostly realm, the main thing uniting the "Insidious" films has been a focus on generational trauma and parental anxieties. "Out of the Further" does carry on this thematic thread. Gemma was thoroughly traumatized by her mother's lunacy and suicide. As her own haunting grows more severe, she finds herself repeating a lot of the same mistakes with her own daughter, like sleeping in too late or lashing out at the kid. The threat of turning into our abusive or neglectful parents, no matter how hard we try to do better, is a potent one. However, "Out of the Further" mostly sidelines it for the goofier ghost shenanigans. The idea that some curses are hereditary crops up again before the end but solely as a plot device, not as a meaningful statement. Amelia Eve isn't a bad lead. She has a certain wide-eyed vulnerability and a can-do spunkiness. I like the rapport she has with Island Austin as the daughter. The script simply doesn't give her much else to dig into. 

As someone always more tolerant than appreciative of the "Insidious" series, I suppose it's unsurprising that "Out of the Further" left me feeling bored and slightly irritated. I don't know if fans of these movies liked this one or not but the impression I got is that this shit is seriously played out. "Out of the Further" is too enamored with the superpowers and mystical layers of its universe and too devoid of effective or interesting scares. I feel like the sequel came and went from theaters without making any impact but has still grossed 169 million dollars so far, against a 18 million dollar budget. Which presumably means Blumhouse will go further into the Further in the near future. Part six is lame enough that I'm probably done with these movies, unless Jason Blum finally gets off his ass and makes that promised crossover with "Sinister." Those movies suck too but the pulpy allure of mashing two unrelated fright flicks together is sadly irresistible to me. [3/10]

The Island (1980)

Before “Jaws” redefined what a cinematic blockbuster was, it was a best-selling book. This must have been tricky for its author, former journalist and Johnson administration speech writer Peter Benchley. He spent the rest of his career in the shadow of “Jaws.” He felt so much guilt over contributing to the perception of sharks as ultra-dangerous killing machines that he became an active conservationist for the animal. Also, he wrote several other maritime themed thrillers, with simple titles that would look good embossed on a hardback cover. None of which proved as successful as his debut novel. Hollywood still tried to turn Benchley into a successful brand name. “The Deep,” mostly based on the strengths of Jacqueline Bisset in a wet t-shirt, was also a hit. This convinced the “Jaws” producers to buy the movie rights to Benchley’s third novel, “The Island,” before it was published. The movie made from that book was such a box office flop, that all future Benchley adaptations went straight-to-TV. Michael Caine, who was happy to joke about his other Benchley-adjacent oceanic floater, was so ashamed of the movie that he refused to discuss it. Despite that reputation, the film has a small cult following. “The Island” was also largely shot on the island of Antigua. Considering the Caribbean nation it forms with neighboring Barbuda has few cinematic offerings of its own, that’s close enough for me to count it for 2026’s Horror Around the World journey.

Journalist Blair Maynard wants to investigate the disappearances in the Bermuda Triangle. He convinces his editor to pay for a trip to Florida. His gun-obsessed pre-teen son tags along out of necessity. After their plane into the Caribbean crashes, father and son are stranded on an obscure island. They go for a fishing trip to pass the time, during which the two are abducted by pirates. These buccaneers are descendants of 17th century privateers. They’ve lived in their own bizarre island society for three hundred years, being responsible for a number of the disappearances in the area. Recently, they’ve begun stealing the children off the boats they pillage, to grow their culture. Justin is their next adoptee into the pirate lifestyle. Blair is kept alive because the sole woman on the island chooses him as her mate. Now, he must escape the plunderers and stop his son from being indoctrinated into their violent ways.

Probably owning to their status as a common Halloween costume, my brain has always sorted pirates alongside other classic horror tropes. I don’t know if anyone else does that but nomadic sea bandits were a common feature in classic gothic literature. Either way, “The Island” does make a decent case for the corsair as a movie monster. The film introduces its villains by having them gorily killing a tourist with an axe. Their next appearance features a flaming head-dress, the sort of thing Blackbeard supposedly did. Certainly a striking and shocking thing to see at any place besides an Arthur Brown concert or Burning Man. All of the following raids are equally violent, with lots of slashed throats. Most pirate movies focus more on high adventure on the high seas. This is weirdly the tone taken by Ennio Morricone’s nostalgic score. However, being attacked while at sea by blood-thirsty bandits would be pretty scary, which is what “The Island” emphasizes to decent effect. 

Unlike vampires and Frankensteins, pirates were and are real things. You probably aren’t going to see too many Captain Hooks or Long John Silvers in international waters, today or circa 1980. To get around that, Benchley’s novel and screenplay introduces the improbable plot device of an isolated colony of Napoleonic freebooters hiding in the Bermuda Triangle in the late 20th century. The story only passingly acknowledges that inbreeding would become a major problem for such a small, concentrated population. The pirates also still mostly use swords, cannon balls, and blunderbuss, despite the film making it clear that they would encounter modern technology on their raids. Despite the silliness of all this, there is a fun idea here. The pirates speak in their own pidgin English, with clipped sentences and weird slang of their own invention. Their culture is replete with strange customs, ruled by obscure and insular rules. If you kill a man, you must take care of his wife. For an abducted child to fully become part of the tribe, he must kill his own dad. There are fleeting references to sea-faring lore, which adds a neat depth to the whole thing. When combined with some above-average costume design, it convincingly creates its own reality. Being an outsider in this world is interesting and some of its features – such as a punishment in which a jellyfish’s tendrils are dragged along an exposed body – are quite memorable.  

This means “The Island” has some cool ideas and decently assembled sequences, despite the obvious gaps in logic. Unfortunately, the movie doesn’t entirely work. The pacing is sluggish, especially during the long middle section once the characters arrive at the titular location. The film also takes far too many additional paths on its way to its central point. Did we need that stop-over on another isolated island before the pirates grab Blair and his kid? In general, “The Island” does not have the most likable main character. Michael Caine plays Blair as a prickly and stand-off-ish guy that isn’t easily liked. The focus on his relationship with the woman that adopts him and his repeated escape attempts never quite take off. Caine is an appealing performer, his established screen persona already straddling the line between egg-headed intellectual and British gangster. He can’t make the former likable with such a thin script. 

This is part of an intended theme about masculinity. Justin clearly does not respect his dad, constantly belittling him with smart-ass comments. When the two visit a gun shop, the kid is very excited and knowledgeable about the fire arms. His father, despite being a Korean War vet, does not seem to be a fan. Obviously, the idea is that Blair is a stuffy intellectual, disconnected from real manhood. This is ostensibly why the boy ends up seemingly embracing the pirate life style, as the bloody bandits are more traditionally masculine. David Warner plays the leader of the buccaneers, his presence recalling “Straw Dogs.” “The Island” has a similarly regressive message about masculinity, the boy accepting his actual father figure only after he embraces violence. Ostensibly, I guess the message is that Blair proves his bravery and that is what impresses the boy. In effect, it looks like Michael Caine gets behind a machine gun like Stallone in the climax of “Rambo IV,” and the kid’s feeling about his dad immediately changes. Now, I’m a fan of a hyper-violent, shoot-em-up ending and eighties movies with questionable stances on what constitutes a “real man.” The film still does not earn the sentimentality of that ending.

If “The Island” had focused solely on the weirdo pirate culture and those bloody scenes of stalking and murder, I would be able to get behind it as an overlooked gem of eighties horror. Instead, a shaky screenplay and some sluggish pacing sinks this one. Director Michael Ritchie was mostly known for sports movies, serious and comedic, before this. He would have more success in the eighties with personality-driven action/comedies, further suggesting that this project was an odd fit for him. You do see lots of the beautiful Caribbean islands and seas though. I also don’t know why Michael Caine is so embarrassed by this one, which definitely isn’t worst than “Jaws: The Revenge,” if maybe not as funny. [6/10]

Alfred Hitchcock Presents (1985): The Specialty of the House

Since most of the eighties "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" episodes are remakes, what truly attracts me to an installment is the cast. Oh, John Saxon as a bitchy food critic? I'll roll the dice on that. Garth December is the prestigious restaurant reviewer at a high-profile publication, known for his biting words and brutal critiques. He visits Hart of the South, a fancy dining establishment run by a Southern belle named Betty Jo, where the menu of every evening is chosen by the chef. Garth is served a delicious but mysterious dish named lamb fritters. December is complying a book of trademark recipes from different restaurants and asks for how these lamb fritters are prepared. Betty Jo refuses to reveal the secret family recipes. Offers of cash do not sway her and Garth cannot replicate the meal at home. He then goes into vindictive mode, writing highly negative reviews of the establishment, hiring actors to feign sickness outside of the building, and doing what he can to sink Betty Jo's career. That's until she personally invites him into her kitchen...

Here's another episode of an anthology show where the twist ending is made far more predictable by the expectations of a twist. Any time there's a secret ingredient to a recipe that the cook emphatically refuses to disclose, it's easy to presume the morbid reveal. Having said that, "Specialty of the House" is indeed worth watching for John Saxon at his campiest. Wearing a succession of hideous pinstripe suits, he cuts down every one around him with brutal observations. This adds a light-hearted but critical tone to this one. Clearly, this is a story of a fabulously cunty jerk going about his obnoxious paths, on the way to a suitably ironic punishment. Of course, watching John Saxon being an asshole is highly entertaining and makes this a breezy half-hour.

There's a definite layer of class conflict here. The snooty, upper-crust douchebaggery of Garth December is obviously representative of a snobbish ruling class. Betty Jo's lower class roots are evident from her heavy southern accent. Operating a restaurant is one of the few ways poorer or blue collar folks can make the leap into a higher tax bracket. Betty Jo has successfully reached this level but stuffy gatekeepers like December still refuse to accept her unless she plays by their rules. That makes the gruesome ending, which thoroughly pushes this story into the realm of horror, all more meaningful. In other words: Eat the rich. This one is based on a short story by Stanley Ellin, also adopted as an episode of Vincent Price's radio show. I'll have to listen to that too. [7/10]

Friday the 13th: The Series: Tattoo

As evident by the specific chiming quality of the background music and the presence of special guest star Keye Luke, "Tattoo" is "Friday the 13th: The Series'" token Mysteries of the Orient episode. Naturally, that means it's set in that corner of every major city in North America known as "Chinatown." Tommy Chen longs to be a hot-shot gambler but his luck is rotten. This means he owes a lot of money to intimidating crime boss-type Frankie Wong. His sordid lifestyle is considered shameful by his grandfather but his cousin, Linda, is a little more sympathetic. Tommy's luck starts to change after he stumbles upon this week's Cursed Artifact: Magical tattoo needles that fatally brings to life the design etched on to someone's skin, bringing the tattooer unbeatable luck. (And also passable tattooing artistry, I guess.) Mr. Chen reaches out to Jack, Micki, and Ryan who quickly set off to grab the needles before Tommy's avarice leads him to kill again. 

Orientalist stereotypes have been especially tricky to dispel in pop culture. "Tattoo" certainly makes no attempt to do so. Grandpa Chen runs an Herbal Medicine shop. He speaks frequently of honor and how Tommy's pursuit of money brings shame on the family. Dragon sculptures appear in passing. One of the random tough guys Ryan encounters knows martial arts. Among Tommy's victims is a nameless woman in a Qipao and smoking an opium pipe. The climatic bet Tommy takes is a game of Russian Roulette, fixated in pop culture as a Vietnamese thing after "The Deer Hunter." While tattoos are now a common sight anywhere, that focus too has a tinge of exoticism to it. Chinatown is depicted as an urban area infested with organized crime, violence, drugs, and back alley businesses. Three of the endangered people in this episode are also women in bondage, a ubiquitous trope that nevertheless takes on a salacious quality in this setting. The show never says the women are sex workers but it kind of feels implied, ya know? 

We have to acknowledge such stereotypes as harmful and regressive. To not do so makes them seem acceptable, when they are not. Much like I did when reviewing "Mask of Fu Manchu" earlier in the season, I must also confess that "Tattoo" is a pretty good episode otherwise. It's tighter paced than most "Friday the 13th: The Series" installments. It feels like Jack, Ryan, and Micki are on the move the entire time in this one. Perhaps it's the inherent tension in any sort of gambling that gives Tommy's killing spree and all related activities a bit more suspense. The climax ramps up nicely as it cuts between that game of Russian Roulette and Jack's attempts to save Linda Chen from a deadly snake. (Or a "deadly" snake, as the zoology nerd in me immediately checked if red-touched-yellow or red-touched-black on the reptile's skin and guess which one it was?) This is not the first time I've seen deadly tattoo art on a show like this but it's a cool gimmick. My favorite example is probably the tat of a monstrous hand that then sprouts from the guy's chest and strangles him to death. 

As questionable as the role's racial connotations are, the guest cast is very good here. Especially after the very unsympathetic portrayal of the previous episode's antagonist, I like how we at least understand where Tommy is coming from. His cousin Linda's drive to try and protect him adds a little more drama to the plot, most notably to the inevitable moment where Tommy tattoos her. That also dovetails with Micki and Ryan's status as family, which is played up over their usual flirtatious dynamic. There's no doubt that Keye Luke was gifted at bringing actual gravitas to parts like this. I like the interaction he has with Jack at the end, the two men treating each other as equal masters of eccentric arts. Once again, I must concede that this is "solid entertainment if you ignore the racism." Also, this is another episode with an annoying-to-Google name. The keywords "friday the 13th tattoo" mostly returns articles about the associated lore between the activity of ink under skin and the day or images of Jason tats. [7/10] 

Halloween 2026: September 24th

Teenage Sex & Death at Camp Miasma (2026)

The golden age of the slasher movie was short-lived. By 1984, over-saturation had been reached, the style was burnt out, and Jason Voorhees was dead. They kept making them. They'll keep making them forever, because something about the subgenre seems to imprint on every subsequent generation of horror fans. Which is to say: It's been four decades since "Halloween" and "Friday the 13th" lit the fire, and three since "Scream" popularly deconstructed it, and people are still finding things to say about these movies. Whether the irony-enriched eighties slasher regurgitation premise is totally played out or not is irrelevant. A certain breed of filmmaker will keep thinking about it. Deeply personal reflections on media seems to be Jane Schoenbrun's thing. "We Are All Going to the World's Fair" and "I Saw the TV Glow" were the director's post-mortems on getting too deep into the internet and substituting real life experiences with television, respectively. Now "Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma" has this extremely distinctive voice considering the often-considered camp slasher framework. 

"Camp Miasma" was a popular eighties slasher film. It concerned Little Death, a transgender revenant wearing an air vent on their head and wielding a spear. The killer regularly rose from a lake to massacre the people at the summer camp next door. The original was a hit and beget a long line of sequels, until the premise was thoroughly run into the ground. Now, up-and-coming filmmaker Kris Williams has been contacted to pitch a reboot. Kris knows the studio singled her out because she's queer and they are hopeful she can untangle the "Camp Miasma" series from its problematic origins. She genuinely loves the films though. In particular, she's enamored of Billy Presley, the star of the original film that has since disappeared from public life. Kris tracks Billy down at her home, which turns out to be the camp grounds where the first movie was shot. Billy has a deep connection to "Camp Miasma" as well. Her and Kris explore what the film means to them, and their own sexuality, until the border between reality and fiction are totally blurred. 

The impression I got from Jane Schoenbrun's previous films is that they put a lot of themselves into the protagonists. A young person losing connection to reality as they go deeper into an internet rabbit hole and a pop culture-obsessed, deeply closeted loner perhaps represented dark "what-ifs" for the auteur. "Camp Miasma" is Schoenbrun's most personal work yet. By which I mean, Kris Williams definitely seems to be a self-insert for the director. Hannah Einbinder is even made up to look a bit like Schoenbrun. The plot thread of Kris being asked to make a "woke" reboot of a transphobic summer camp slasher, specifically because of their queer identity, makes me think Schoenbrun got asked to reboot "Sleepaway Camp" at some point. (Both that film and its beloved-by-me sequel are mentioned by name.) That must be weird, being offered a job only because your identity lines up with the murderous villain's. If "Camp Miasma" is a reflection of the director's feelings, Schoenbrun has little respect for typical Hollywood smoozers. Kris' agent and the execs are obsessed with meaningless buzz words like "origin story" and "elevated." While the "Queer Assistant" present is depicted as utterly apathetic. If brainless industry people are a target of the story, the script doesn't spare its protagonist either. Kris' past films that "explore queerness as monstrous otherness" and her obsessive film fandom are treated as immature defense mechanisms, to cover up real insecurities she feels about herself and sex. When asked to talk about herself, Kris talks about her films instead. As if that's all there is to her, as if cinema is more real than reality.

And maybe it is, at least for these characters. The film leans on the surreal borderland between the real and the imagined early on. As soon as Kris arrives at the camp, elaborate matte paintings are being used to create a sense of cinematic dreaminess. The brand names of junk food are highlighted, as if to the emphasize the importance of shiny, disposable commercial products to these people. Dipping sauce for chicken fingers is sensually lingered on, only the first of many scenes connecting food and sex. This is because, as the title indicates, this movie is almost entirely about sex. That's why the killer is Little Death, why they penetrate with a spear, and why they strikes as their victims are on the verge of orgasmic rapture. Some of these symbolic touches are obvious, even trite. But this is ultimately a film about how the pop culture we consume gives us the words to express our desires, our fantasies. The shadow play of the movies are absorbed as erotic nightmares, through which we can then describe our own thoughts and feelings. If the amount of Jason-themed erotica I've seen is any indication, Kris is far from the only person whose sexual awakening was entwined with an old horror movie. Finding sensual satisfaction from watching naked, stereotyped teenagers get killed is acknowledged as #Problematic but, the film seems to say, our fantasies tend to be a little fucked-up. That's why they only exist in dreams and on the big screen. 

It's an interesting, highly personal re-contextualization of the slasher concept.  Schoenbrun has said that the film is as much about learning to enjoy sex after transitioning as it is riffing on Jason movies. I exist in too cis of a head-space to, perhaps, understand that element. A sequence where Kris talks about watching a horror movie and wanting to be the fleeing bimbo on the screen is pretty obviously important. The symbolism of the spiraling, interlocking lines of Little Death's vent mask were a little lost on me. I'm sure someone with a degree in Gender Studies would have something to say about the discussion around the role watching and being watched, being both within and outside the body during sex, plays in the film. 

I don't know much about that kind of thing. What I do know lots about is eighties slasher movies. The opening credits depict a litany of poster art, VHS boxes, Fright Flicks-style trading cards, merchandise, and industry articles about the long-running series. Clearly, Schoenbrun is as faithful to the marketing aesthetic of the “Friday the 13th” series as they were to the look and feel of nineties television in “I Saw the TV Glow.” The first glimpses we get at the “Camp Miasma” films, a sequence where Billy is humping with her male co-star when Little Death is reflected in her eye, is striking. When we finally get an extended look at the film-within-the-film, the results are dishearteningly not as faithful. As much as the film draws specific cues from “Sleepaway Camp” or “Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter,” the characters within the film are never less than utterly cartoonish. Including a female stoner with a huge mohawk, which feels a bit anachronistic for the early eighties. The sequence grows more exaggerated as it goes on, with every kill being followed by a massive geyser of blood. It is, simply put, quite bad, playing less like the creation of a loyal fan of the genre and more like a shitty “Saturday Night Live” sketch or something. The filmmaker clearly knew what the films they were paying homage to looked and felt like, so I can only assume that these moments of obnoxiously dumb parody are intentional. 

Moments this grating are especially baffling when other parts of the movie work so well. The filmmaker remains especially talented at unexpected needle drops, especially when pairing them with unexpectedly lyrical violence. The cinematography and visuals are interesting throughout.  Hannah Einbinder gives a thoughtful performance as Kris. Gillian Anderson adopts a kind of silly country twang as Billy, which takes some getting used to. However, she has fine chemistry with Einbinder and the acting choices eventually win me over. In other words, “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is messy, too self-aware at times, and doubtlessly self-indulgent. At first, I was disappointed in it. As far as recent self-aware “Friday the 13th” homages go, I preferred “In a Violent Nature.” However, thinking about it, the film captivated me for its entire runtime and transported me. I suspect I will think about it a lot more in the future. [7/10]

Cry of the Banshee (1970)

You can get a good sense of the shifts the horror genre went through as the sixties became the seventies by looking at Vincent Price's career. The previous decade was defined by the classy chills of the Poe Cycle. Ten years later, his trademark films were about mad villains seeking elaborate, often gory revenge on those who wronged him. The transitional film between these two styles was, of course, the intense and violent "Witchfinder General." American International Pictures would attempt to replicate that one's success a few times. Most directly with 1970's "Cry of the Banshee." It was Price's 100th film and that would normally be a cause for celebration. Unfortunately, he hated making the movie, often citing it as one of the least favorite of his career. His relationship with AIP and Sam Z. Arkoff was on the skids at the time, no doubt contributing to Price's ire towards the film. All of this makes "Cry of the Banshee," despite its low standing in its star's career, something of the end of an era. It is often cited as Price's last gothic horror film, which is close enough to the truth. 

Lord Whitman is a rich magistrate, his grand manner overlooking a simple village. He is obsessed with stamping out the local witch community. Alongside his two sons and henchman Bully Boy, he often raids and terrorizes sabbaths and rituals. One such coven is led by a witch named Oona, who places a curse on the Whitman family in retaliation. An otherworldly spirit takes over the body of Roderick, the servant boy that both Whitman's daughter and wife are sleeping with. The supernatural activity increases: The eerie howl of a banshee is heard outside the castle at night. A demonic black dog begins to attack the locals. An inhuman beast prowls the grounds. Both Lady Patricia and Maureen Whitman have visions of madness. The Lord only increases his witch-hunting shenanigans in response to these events, seeking out Oona to end the curse.

Scholars of folk horror, or at least the people who made that long-ass documentary on the subject, refer to the three films that kicked off the modern iteration of the subgenre as the Unholy Trinity: 1968's "Witchfinder General," 1971's "Blood on Satan's Claws" and "The Wicker Man." "Cry of the Banshee" represents something of the bridge between those first two titles. It's a blatant imitation of Michael Reeves' film, featuring Vincent Price again in period garb and performing medieval torture on supposed witches. There's a branding, some stocks, a burning at the stake, and a spin on the breaking wheel. There's also some rape and coerced confessions. The rebellious witches frolic in nature with flowers in their hair, clearly drawing parallels to the hippy movement. The end credits go so far as to separate the cast into two opposing groups, the Witches and "The Establishment." "Blood on Satan's Claws" was going for more of a Manson family vibe than a flower power angle but both movies clearly look to the witch hunts of the past as a way to comment generational conflict of the early seventies.

Unfortunately, “Cry of the Banshees” seems uncertain about which side of this conflict we should root for. Now, obviously Lord Whitman and his raping, torturing cohorts are vile people who deserve our scorn. His wife and daughter, meanwhile, are largely innocent bystanders caught up in things. While the film certainly focuses on the cruelty of the witchhunters, it also takes place in a world where witchcraft is real and dark, magical powers do exist. This muddles the waters a bit. It's also simply another symptom of the film's inability to focus on one idea for too long at all. “Cry of the Banshee” has entirely too many characters, few of them being that distinct from one another or memorable. Forgive me if I couldn't always recall which of these guys is Whitman's evil son and which is merely his evil henchman. At one point, a random grave robber wanders into the story to drop some key information before wandering back out. The nature of the supernatural threat changes often too. The movie cycles through witchy curses, a black-coated demon dog, and an off-screen unearthly shriek before finally deciding on becoming a werewolf movie in the last third. It's all over-the-place, unfocused, and often hard to follow.

That doesn't leave the viewer much to enjoy. The interrogation and execution sequences lack the brutality and indignation of “Witchhunter General's” similar scenes. None of the film's other horrors are that intriguing. “Cry of the Banshee” was filmed at W.S. Gilbert's manor and that's a cool location. There's some okay use of shadow and colors. The glimpses we get of the werewolf make it look like a moldy-faced gorilla costume, making the choice to keep it to the shadows likely for the best. Price might not have thought much of the project but he is still doing his best to make it entertaining. There's a cool shot of him dressed like Henry VIII in that famous portrait. He doesn't play the character as only a cold-blooded villain, allowing the lord to show his fondness for his family and his steadfast belief in his own, wicked quest. Mostly, Price is at his campy best when showing wide-eyed panic and fear. Also, he gets to wield a blunderbust in a few scenes and that's fun too. 

“Cry of the Banshee” exists in two versions. Director Gordon Hessler's original cut runs 91 minutes long, features an animated opening credits sequence from Terry Gilliam, and a score by Wilfred Josephs. Before releasing the movie domestically, A.I.P cut out most of the nudity and some of the violence in order to receive a GP rating, taking the runtime down to 87 minutes. They also ditched the animated opening and had Les Baxter compose a new score. (AIP also slapped Edgar Allen Poe's name all over the posters, utilizing the same trick that turn “Witchfinder General” into “The Conqueror Worm” by briefly including some lines from one of Poe's poems – in this case, “The Bells” – at the beginning.) Neither cut of the movie features a banshee at all. Which is kind of disappointing. That would be a cool, underutilized monster to built a film around. While the director's cut is a slight improvement over the U.S. edit, “Cry of the Banshee” is subpar in any version. Vincent Price's theatrical vamping has elevated middling material before but this one mostly feels reheated from superior work. Also, the devil dog looks a little like my dog, presumably because all black German Shepherd mixes kind of look the same. [5/10] 

The Ray Bradbury Theater: A Sound of Thunder

It’s probably the most famous of Ray Bradbury’s short stories, to the point that it would eventually receive a (very bad) feature film adaptation. The premise, of dinosaurs and time travel from a futuristic society, are also quite ambitious. That’s probably why the low-budget “Ray Bradbury Theater” didn’t adapt it until the third season. For those who don’t know, “A Sound of Thunder” begins in a sci-fi future, where time travel has become common technology. Following an election where a fascist dictator nearly became President, big game hunter Eckels heads into the offices of Time Safari Inc. He pays an exorbitant cost to go back in time to the Mesozoic and hunt a T-Rex. His guide Travis gives him strict rules to follow: He must stay aboard a floating platform and can only kill animals already destined to die. Any other disturbance to the environment may have horrifying effects on the future... Rules that Eckels inevitably breaks. 

I honestly don’t know how famous Bradbury’s story is among people who don’t read science fiction. However, the central twist the story leads up to – that seemingly the most inconsequential of changes in the past can unknowingly have enormous effects on the future – has long since entered common knowledge. Bradbury’s story isn’t the origin of the term the butterfly effect but is often mistaken as such, because Ray also used a mere Lepidoptera as the symbol of how little things can set off chain reactions with massive consequences. Unfortunately, this has the downside of making any adaptation of “A Sound of Thunder” leading to a foregone conclusion. The minute the story introduces the idea of a strict set of rules that must be follow in the past, it’s only a matter of time before they are broken and birth a strange new future. 

If anything, I think the future that the death of one butterfly 65 million years ago sets off might be too similar to the one already established. The future the cast arrives in at the end isn’t that different from the one they left. It’s effectively the same except for two key changes: Language and writing is kind of fucked-up and the heavily foreshadowed crypto-fascist running for president has won, birthing an era of American Nazism. (Something that, ya know, could never happen.) Anything more elaborate than that was also probably outside the show’s budget. It’s also faithful to Bradbury’s story, likely because he wrote the script himself. Still, more extreme changes would probably be a better, more surprising illustration of simply how much that little butterfly – a species that really does date back to the Cretaceous – actually did matter to history. 

Then again, maybe Ray accidentally predicating the butterfly effect isn’t the point of the story so much. “A Sound of Thunder” is mostly a simple tale of hubris. Its big game hunter goes in search of dinosaurs because he believes he’s killed every dangerous creature alive. The sight of the tyrant lizard king, however, sends him into a panic. It turns out there is something bigger than himself and the idea terrifies him, leading to his downfall. I’m always happy to see shitty hunter types get what’s coming to them. Kiel Martin plays Eckles as properly haughty and then spineless, a good contrast to the ice cold but fearless take John Bach provides to his guide. The idea is simple: History shows again and again how nature points out the folly of man. A focus on that moral over what ends up happening would’ve resulted in a more satisfying pay-off, I think. Or perhaps that’s simply my familiarity with the source material and this episode featuring a mediocre animatronic dinosaur influencing my opinion. Still a better take on the story than the 2005 movie. [6/10]

Friday the 13th: The Series: Vanity's Mirror

Mirrors are objects loaded with symbolism, certainly when it comes to the topic of vanity, which makes it unsurprising that “Friday the 13th: The Series” would devote an episode to one. This one begins with a ragamuffin flower vendor attempting to convince the guy in a nice suit that buys roses from her every day to love her. When that doesn’t work, she reflects light from a compact in his eyes, magically inducing a powerful infatuation. This has deadly consequences. In the aftermath, homely high school student Helen Mackie picks up the compact. She quickly deduces its magical mechanics. She uses it to make the jocko friends of her sister’s handsome boyfriend – who, of course, Helen has a crush on – fall in love with her. And this show being what it is, all of those sudden love spells result in death too. When Micki showing up at the girl’s door is unsuccessful, Ryan goes undercover as a high school student to find out more. 

Auditioning for the part of an “ugly” girl, only to win the role, must be demoralizing for an actor. That unfortunately sets up what is the rather fucked moral of “Vanity’s Mirror.” The script never considers that unfair social pressures placed on young women to make themselves stand up to an impossible beauty standard might deserve any blame for this situation. The woman in the first scene is simply a villain. Helen is not much more sympathetic. A few hours after figuring out how the mirror works, she is already callously engineering the gruesome death of somebody. She becomes fully ruthless right after that, never once being shocked or unsettled by the violence she is reaping. The unusually down-beat end of the episode is similarly pitiless to the girl. This one ends without any sense of “justice” being served and seems to come to the conclusion of “Well, some people are just ugly, inside and out, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” 

I, for one, do not agree with this. I believe it’s cartoonishly unfair to a sixteen year old girl to turn her into a remorseless serial killer and then off her in such a callous way, for the crime of being “ugly.” Whatever happened to the idea of beauty being subjective? Let’s not take the side of the high school bullies here. I get that “Friday the 13th: The Series” only has forty-five minutes to tell its story and is, on the best of days, still a fairly dumb or silly show. However, this one left me feeling depressed in a decidedly un-satisfying fashion. Using demonically infused mundane objects to make someone fall in love with you is bad, as “Obsession” already hammered into our heads this season. But, I dunno, maybe making a young girl with an ungainly nose and some acme into a serial killer simply because she has a crush on her sister’s boyfriend is kind of shitty. 

Outside of all of that, I suppose this episode has one or two moments. The instantly recognizable Zack Ward – not exactly a traditionally handsome fella himself and the episode doesn’t shit on his looks – appears as the first of Helen’s victims. His demise occurs off-screen but, by the standards of broadcast television in the eighties, is still quite gruesome. The second death is bloody too. Nebulous as its connection to Jason’s rampages was, this show was definitely doing its best to bring some Hollywood style gore to the small screen. However, the plot point of Ryan going undercover as a teenager is laughable. Moreover, he spends a large fraction of this episode unconscious on a floor. In fact, I’m pretty sure this is an episode of “Friday the 13th” where the Curious Goods crew have almost no effect on the plot at all. I guess Jack does save the sister from an unfortunate death trap but, otherwise, all of these events would have played out in the exact same manner without their involvement. Odd episode. [5/10]

Halloween 2026: September 23rd

Evil Dead Burn (2026)

For a many years, “Evil Dead 4” was high on the list of sequels fans were still clamoring for. Sam Raimi was busy making “Spider-Man” and the public had stubbornly refused to make Bruce Campbell a huge star, so it seemed like a long-shot for years. That was well before our franchise-driven future, where it seems any semi-recognizable “I.P.” gets happily exploited. Not only have we had the long-requested “Evil Dead 4” with Ash back – as a three season television series anyway – but we're now on the sixth theatrical entry in the franchise. The success of “Evil Dead Rise” saw Sam, Bruce, and Robert Tappert shepherding a promising young filmmaker into the franchise, allowing him a lot of freedom to expand the boundaries of the series. This is a strategy they intend on repeating. Sébastien Vaniček, based on the strength of his spider thriller “Infested,” got selected to make the next “Evil Dead.” While “Rise” was enthusiastically received by fans and audiences, “Evil Dead Burn” proved much more divisive. Now, it's my turn to weigh in. 

Will Price and his French wife, Alice, celebrate the birthday of his little brother, Joseph. Alice and Will's relationship is volatile and the two argue outside the night club, Will leaving in a huff. It's the last time they'll speak, as Will crashes his car into a Deadite and is consumed by the flames of the wreck. Alice attends the funeral with Will's family. Including his parents, Susan and Edgar, and his senile grandmother, Polly. At the home afterwards, the grieving family notices that Edgar is acting strangely, confrontational and violent. Alice soon learns that her late husband's family had a history of black magic and devilry. Their grandfather studied the Necronomicon and uncovered a Kandarian dagger capable of banishing the evil spirits back to Hell. The Evil Dead are aware of this connection, seeking to destroy the family before the weapon is found again. Alice is soon forced to fight for survival. 

“Evil Dead Rise” would reinvent the franchise by doing two simple things: First, moving the premise out of the isolated cabin and into an urban apartment building. Secondly, it left Ash behind and place the possessing spirits within a neurotic family. “Burn” follows this same formula but in, perhaps, too literal a fashion. Once again, we have a troubled young woman as our heroine. She is an outsider within her own family. Bitterness lingers, Will's family blaming his widow for unsettling his life and leading to this tragedy. As in “Rise,” the Kandarian demons are physical manifestations of the simmering anxieties within this group. This is made depressingly literal at times, the possessed Price family outright blaming Alice for Will's death. “Burn” also copies “Rise's” structure to a slavish degree. It continues the pattern of a slow infection of those around our heroine, building towards a confrontation with a “final boss” of a threat. The sequel goes so far as to double-down on “Rise's” habit of using unexpected household objects as implements of violence. 

I ended up liking “Evil Dead Rise” a lot more than expected because I became surprisingly invested in the plight of Beth, Ellie, and Ellie's kids. These characters had quirks, hobbies, personalities outside of their immediate roles in the story. “Burn” is unable to flesh-out its group in a similar fashion. Joseph is a would-be writer, something he's not yet found success at. Will's business of owning a restaurant is brought up a few times. However, the family is mostly defined by one simple characteristic each. Such as father Edgar's anger, grandmother Polly's dementia, or mom Susan's desperation to make it all work. Some of the cast, like Joseph's girlfriend, don't get that much. At the center is Alice, whose backstory is wrapped up in the abuse she suffered at her late husband's hands. Souheila Yacoub seems like a capable enough actress but the script lets her down. Alice's arc, of overcoming lingering trauma and dispelling personal and literal demons, feels extremely old hat after a decade of trauma-core horror films.

Focusing the film on this element, on a grieving family falling apart and directing all their pain at an outsider, results in a prickly ensemble. Everyone is hurting in “Evil Dead Burn” and so most of them are acting like assholes. That seems to be a statement of purpose for the film, the off-putting characters establishing an aggressive tone. The violence, naturally, follows that lead. There's a lot of splattering blood and dismemberment in “Burn.” Occasionally, the sequel finds some properly cringe-inducing pain. Fingers slammed in a car door, rebar through the meaty side of someone's leg, or a hard landing on a set of knives are effectively brutal. However, “Burn's” gory shenanigans are so persistent, that it soon looses much of its flare. When you start with the punishing visual of the family dog getting repeatedly jabbed in the eye with a fork, it establishes a mean-spirited tone that is not conducive to the harsh but playful mayhem of this series.

That might be my biggest issue with “Evil Dead Burn.” Vaniček and cinematographer Phillip Lozano throw in a few Raimi-esque tracking shots. There's the expected trick of the camera assuming the perspective of an otherworldly force as it swoops through the air towards someone. That includes a shot careening over a moving car. Vaniček includes a few other creative camera angles, such as the spinning sequence that inverts gravity or a neat aerial shot. Unfortunately, there's a distressing drabness to much of “Burn's” look. The film goes with the same overcast, overwhelmingly grey coloration that makes far too many horror movies feel lifeless. When “Burn” came out this past summer, I saw some folks bemoaning how “Evil Dead” movies weren't funny anymore. “Burn” actually does make a couple of attempts to recapture the chaotic comedy of Raimi's work. I like an atypical blunt object being used to bludgeon someone in one scene or the weirdness of, say, a lingering close-up on a big twerking ass. However, looser touches like this stand in stark contrast to the otherwise dour atmosphere.

There's one moment in “Evil Dead Burn” that I liked a lot. It's a scene wherein the unresolved pain between mother and daughter shifts into serenity. Obviously, this is one of the deceptive visions the Deadites tend to employ to trick their victims. However, the idea that Luciferian entities actually could be inviting to some people would be a new idea for the franchise. Instead, this is a brief moment in-between more gory set-pieces and route psycho-drama. My final verdict is that “Evil Dead Burn” simply doesn't feel enough like an “Evil Dead” movie. Its last act, in which the heroine is pitted against a CGI monster, feels especially uninspired. This is a shame, as I thought “Infested” was quite good and was hoping the new direction for the “Evil Dead” series would keep working. The next installment is already lined-up and I really liked the last movie that director made too, so hopefully this is not a pattern setting in. [5/10] 

Baxter (1989)

Very little information circulates about the author Ken Greenhall. We know that he was born in 1928 and that he died in 2014. That he was the son of English immigrants and a retired professor. What we most know about him is evident in his work: Six novels, published between 1976 and 1998. Some were printed under his own name and some under his mother's name, Jessica Hamilton. Almost all of them deal with evil lurking in innocent seeming packages, coldly commenting on the "normal" world they observe. Such as a teenage witch in "Elizabeth," a caretaker who murders her elderly wards in "The Companion," or everyday psychopaths playing a game of homicide in the small town of "Death Chain." (Or, for a similar but less malicious example, an African slave taken into white high society in "Lenoir," his final publication.) Greenhall saw little success in his lifetime. His books remained out-of-print until a few were rediscovered by Will Erricksson of "Too Much Horror Fiction" and reprinted as part of his and Grady Hendrix's Paperbacks from Hell imprint. Despite his obscurity at the time, one of Greenhall's titles would be adapted to film. His 1977 novella "Hell Hound" would become the 1989 French film, "Baxter." It has remained something of a cult classic over the years and is far more famous than the book that inspired it. 

The title character is a pure white bull terrier, that dog breed with the ellipsoidal heads, squinty eyes, pointy ears, and stocky bodies. Baxter is a mere canine but his thoughts are complex. He observes the human world, often not understanding man's behavior and frustrated by the roles they place upon him. He desires to be outside, to hunt and kill, but his first owner is a reclusive old lady. At first she is afraid of him but later demands he always be by her side. Once Baxter has had enough, he trips the woman and sends her falling down the stairs to her death. Baxter is next adopted by a newly-wed couple, who give him raw meat and play with him outside often. That is until they have a child, Baxter feeling resentment and jealousy over the new "Creature" who has usurped his place. After this situation escalates badly, Baxter finds his way to the home of Carl. Carl is thirteen year old boy with an unhealthy fixation on Adolf Hitler and especially upon his last days in the bunker. The two complement each other at first but soon Carl pushes Baxter too far. 

Most reviews refer to “Baxter” as being a story narrated by a dog that is also a sociopath. I'm not so sure. Humans inevitably tend to anthropomorphize animals, especially the ones they spend the most time with. We pamper our pets, tell them we love them, treat them like family. We assume that they feel the same way about us. However, a dog is still an animal. Its consciousness is not like that of a man's. They have no sense of morality, of social boundaries. These are human inventions. A dog is still running the firmware of a predator, driven to hunt and kill to survive. “Baxter” does a good job of reflecting this, of displaying how its canine protagonist relates to other living things through smells, emotion, and body language. Is Baxter a sociopath because he wants to kill the smothering, neurotic old woman who insists he take a bath with her, despite him making it very clear he doesn't want to do that? Or is he simply being a dog? Through these ideas, the film asks how to consider how well we actually know our beloved animal companions. 

“Baxter” goes a good job of reminding us of this, that dogs are instinctual. They must dig in the dirt, roll around in the grass, sniff everything. The girl next door to Carl has a Cocker Spanial that's in heat. Baxter has contempt for things smaller, weaker, squishier than him. Babies and females do not have his predatory impulse. Despite that, he can not stop himself from rutting with the bitch, feeling disgusted as he does it. He's more like the people around them than he would care to admit. His first owner is an old woman, isolated and alone. She is in need of companionship and sees that in the dog cohabiting with her. The married couple are similarly screwing all the time, sometimes caused to act on these hormonal needs when it's not convenient. When the baby – the “Creature” as Baxter calls it – arrives, they are similarly hardwired to protect and care for it. Are all living things, dogs and humans alike, slaves to their natural inclinations? If so, can we blame anyone for simply doing what they are programmed to do?

This question becomes especially brain-tingling when you look at the actions of little Carl. The kid is not like other boys, obviously. Hyper-fixating on Hitler and the details of his suicide, to the point that he's compelled to built a replica of the Führerbunker in his dad's junk yard, would qualify as concerning behavior to most. It's evident from the moment we meet Carl that his morbid fascination will bend towards attempted homicide eventually. Carl also gives Baxter something else he's genetically predisposed towards that nobody else does. Dogs have been bred for centuries to take commands from humans. The need for obedience is almost literally in their blood. Carl tells the dog to heel, trains him to act on this built-in tendency to serve a master. More than once, Baxter describes this not only as unavoidable but pleasurable. He's happy to do it. This becomes especially morbid in the final scene, where the dog's need to follow orders acts against his own interest. If obedience is in Baxter's nature, and all of us are victims of instinct, are people designed to follow orders too? When contrasted with Carl's Hitler obsession, I wonder if “Baxter” isn't one of those high-minded dissertation on fascism that European filmmakers love so much. 

“Baxter” usually gets classified as a horror film or pitch black comedy. I'm not sure what other genre it would comfortably fit into, equal parts too grim and absurd to be anything else. However, the emotion the film mostly made me feel was sad. Baxter's opening lines are about darkness, the blank non-existence from which we all emerge and all return to. He spends his life misunderstood, considered a harmless pet when he's hungry for blood or reduced to an accessory when he's made to chomp on rats. While Carl and Baxter can operate on a similar wavelength for a while, it is destined to fail. The dog is, ultimately, alone in this world. As loathsome a character as Carl is, I couldn't help but feel kind of bad for him too. He doesn't want to be a little bastard as much as the bull terrier doesn't want to be a dog. As the film heads towards its unavoidable and deeply sad ending, the feelings I had were more tragic than anything else.

The result is a movie that entombs the viewer in a chilled, distressing feeling. “Baxter” is surrounded by the animal's interior monologue, provided by the exact and calmly calculating Maxime Leroux. That sense of isolation and loveless hunger for violence spreads to the viewer eventually too. Another reason I might have found the movie sad is because there are several scenes where the actors are very obviously, actually hitting the dog. I don't like that. Don't hurt animals. Dogs don't know what a movie or acting is. Baxter might be unhinged in his blood lust but I'm sure the real bull terriers playing him was a very good boy, who didn't deserve any of that. But there I go anthropomorphize a creature that is basically still a wolf. I suppose my point is that “Baxter” is a very thoughtful, interesting motion picture if you can accept certain aspects of it. [7/10]

The Hitchhiker: When Morning Comes

“The Hitchhiker” was HBO's first dramatic original program and you can tell they were cautious about whether or not it would work. The show's first season is all of three episodes long, a trilogy of try-out installments that could easily be repackaged as a movie if the project went no further. Obviously, “The Hitchhiker” did go on to a successful run but one element from the “pilot” season did not. Before Paige Fletcher donned the denim and the mullet, the travelling host was played by Nicholas Campbell. After the show went to series, these host segments were re-filmed with Fletcher, casting Campbell's brief tenure as “The Hitchhiker” into the void. Luckily, static-filled VHS recordings still survive. Every previous episodes of this show I've covered have been from the Fletcher seasons, so this is my first exposure to Nic Campbell as the Hitchhiker. As absurdly easy as it is to make fun of the faux-philosophical nonsense Paige Fletcher delivered in the role, he definitely has a lot more charisma and screen presence than the non-entity that is Campbell. 

But what about “When Morning Comes?” Despite looking like if Casey Kasem had been left to tan in the sun, music executive Bob Ames is able to charm any lady out of her pants. He's driving to an isolated cabin he owns and arrives in a rainstorm. To his surprise, he finds a shapely blonde undressed before his fire place. She introduces herself as Cat and explains that she was simply seeking shelter in the storm. It's not long before the two are humping on the bear-skin rug. During their post-coital cuddling, Bob hears a news report on the radio: A female serial killer, known for slashing the throats of her lovers, has escaped a near-by mental institute. After hearing that she matches Cat's description – and noticing her odd behavior, which seems fixated on animals hunting other animals – Bob gets proactive. He fights back against the woman before she can kill him.... But is she really the killer or is this all a big misunderstanding?

Most episodes of “The Hitchhiker” play like a dumber, hornier version of “Alfred Hitchcock Presents.” This means the program is often attempting to misdirect the viewer, when it's not putting some bare T&A on-screen. “When Morning Comes” does both. It plays a game with the audience, asking us to double-guess what does and does not seem like the most obvious turn of events. Bob having unknowingly shacked up with a femme fatale is the immediate observation. Despite her extremely suspicious behavior, Cat denies his allegations. Alright, so is she really a murderer or is Bob violently leaping to the wrong conclusion? It's pretty obvious which is the likelier event. However, “When Morning Comes” actually has a third, dumber ending in mind. It's such a silly turn-of-events that I have to assume it's at least partially supposed to be funny.

The writing is, overall, a bit goofy. Basing the entire episode around the hoary old “escaped lunatic” set-up suggests a certain inability to resist cliches. Given the much lower number of female serial killers, making the murderer a woman makes the situation more improbable. Bob strikes me as an unlikely ladies' man, especially considering he successfully uses the same line twice. Despite these short-comings, I actually did like “When Morning Comes.” The title-lending chase sequence, the two parties facing off against each other in the early morning woods, is a decently suspenseful sequence. As for the more puerile interests, Pamela Bowman as Cat fills the nudity quota that HBO surely demanded and, I'll admit, that too is a highlight of the episode. [7/10]

Friday the 13th: The Series: Bedazzled

Most episodes of “Friday the 13th: The Series” revolve around the nature of whatever the chosen Artifact of Doom is. You can't write a story about a cursed magician's box and not have the episode be about stage magic. However, one suspects that sometimes the show's writers had a general set-up for an episode and combined it with whatever evil object was at the top of the idea pile. I bring this up because it describes “Bedazzled.” This episode sticks Micki and the ten year old boy she's baby-sitting into a home invasion scenario. A hurricane has blown in and Ryan and Jack are visiting a fortune teller's convention. A pair of bad guys pose as telephone repair men to make it inside. They terrorize and tie up the residents, as they seek out the demonic doodad that was recently taken from them. 

In this case, that item is a magical old lantern. Its light leads the wielder to buried or sunken treasure. In return, the lantern must shine its light on a human being, who are reduced to ash by the ray. But that's not all that important. “Bedazzled” featuring a deadly ship's lantern is relevant in the first scene, when the heroic trio steal it off the bad guy's vessal. Mostly, the only way it effects the story is by making the villain a salty sea dog. I don't know why the writers' room went in that direction. However, I must say that Alan Jordan is fittingly sleazy and intimidating as this murderous pirate. He's the type of on-screen baddie who is so focused on his goal – getting that damn lantern back – that he has no qualms about taking human life. When he strangles the actual phone repairman with a cord, he follows it up with a one-liner about how “they got disconnected.” 

The Curious Goods antique's shop is still the show's strongest setting, so I don't object to an episode being based in it. Micki makes a decent final girl, believable as both someone who could be caught off-guard but still be brave enough to fight back. The kid's main contribution to the story is that he scares Micki by jumping out in a weird tribal mask. That jump-scare is another indicator that “The Series” is drawing from the proper “Friday the 13th” films. There's a fairly bloody impaling with a spear and a dead body playing peek-a-boo at one point. Naturally, the villain gets an ironically gruesome final fate. By the way, the title is especially meaningless. If you do an image search for “Friday the 13th” and “Bedazzled,” most of the results are of rhinestone encrusted hockey masks. [7/10]