Halloween 2019: September 19th

The Lodger (1927)
A Story of the London Fog

Even though he's considered one of the greatest directors of all time, and perhaps the first filmmaker to truly earn the title of Master of Suspense, I haven't reviewed nearly enough of Alfred Hitchcock's movies. That's probably because, suspenseful though they may be, most of Hitch's movies fall just outside of the horror genre, making them ill choices for the Halloween Horror-Fest Blog-a-thon. Yet I've made a tradition of opening the six weeks with a silent movie, going as far back to the genre's cinematic roots as I can. This is when I recalled “The Lodger,” subtitled “A Story of London Fog.” A Jack the Ripper-inspired story, the film was adapted from a book and a stage play. It was Hitchcock's third feature but considered by many Hitch scholars, and by the director himself, to be his first real movie. Sounds like as good a choice as any to open the Blog-a-thon with!

Sometimes in the late 1800s, a killer is haunting the streets of London. He is known as the Avenger. He targets blonde girls, killing them on the foggy streets every Tuesday night, marking his victims with the symbol of a triangle. This is when a mysterious lodger, named Jonathan Drew, takes up residence in a inn near the areas where the killings have happened. The daughter of the inn's owner, Daisy, soon becomes enamored of Jonathan, pursuing him romantically. This is much to the annoyance of Joe, the police detective who is determined to capture Daisy's heart and bring the Avenger to justice.

It's easy to see why Hitchcock scholars have latched onto "The Lodger" while largely disregarding "The Pleasure Garden," Hitchcock's actual first movie. The silent film represents many of the same themes the director would revisit throughout his entire career. While watching “The Lodger,” I was really hoping it would be one of those Hitchcock movies about trying to get the audience to root for a serial killer, like “Psycho” and “Frenzy.” From the moment we meet the Lodger, it's highly suggested he's the Ripper-esque killer. He's introduced carrying a black leather bag and covering his face with a spooky cloak. He seems immediately obsessed with the blonde Daisy. There's a brilliant scene where the two have lunch, the girl becoming smitten with the man and the man seemingly considering stabbing her with a bread knife. The two have chemistry and the Lodger, unhinged though he seems, is also pathetically controlled by his compulsions. The police detective that should ostensibly be Daisy's love interest, meanwhile, is a braggart, grabby, and generally obnoxious. The audience doesn't like him at all, forcing us to sympathize even more with the man who certainly seems to be the midnight slasher of blondes.

But, it turns out, “The Lodger” isn't about that Hitchcock trademark. Instead, it's an early example of another one of the director's obsession: The wrong man. It turns out, Jonathan isn't the Avenger. Instead, he's the brother of the killer's first victim and is determined to track him down, bringing him to justice. This doesn't convince the detective, who attempts to arrest the man, since all the evidence points to him being their guy. Once the actual killer is found, the cop has to rescue the Lodger from a blood-thirsty mob. This isn't as cool, simply because an actual serial killer being our hero is way more interesting. (This was, I wasn't surprised to read, Hitchcock's original intention. The studio, however, refused to let him cast Ivor Novello as a villain.) It's also not as cool because the film then pauses for an incredibly melodramatic flashback revealing Jonathan's back story in painstaking detail. That really drags the film's pacing down.

Aside from the Hitchcock connection and my desire to see more silent movies, there's another reason I decided to give “The Lodger” a watch this season. It's subtitle is “A Story of London Fog.” And, if you're reading this, odds are good you know I fucking love fog. I have to say, “The Lodger” is not quite as heavy on foggy, silent movie atmosphere as I was hoping. There's definitely a little fog. I love the obvious sound stage sets that stand in for the actual streets of London. There's a pretty cool shot of a window's bar-like shadows being cast huge on a bedroom wall, the film's most blatantly Expressionistic moment. There's another neat moment, where the owners of the inn can tell the Lodger is in his room upstairs because they see his footsteps shaking the chandelier. “The Lodger” actually looks pretty great for a movie from 1927. (The Blu-Ray restoration from Criterion is, naturally, gorgeous.) But I guess I was expecting something more akin to Paul Leni, when Hitchcock's visual style is a little more restrained.

Even though it's from one of cinema's most famous directors, the 1927 version of “The Lodger” doesn't seem to be the most famous iteration of this story. The tale has been adapted to film five more times since. A 1932 sound version also starred Ivor Novello. The 1944 adaptation, starring Laird Cregar as the Lodger and George Sanders as the inspector, seems to be the most well known and critically lauded version. The story was remade again in 1953 with Jack Palance, in 1967 in Germany, and even as recently as 2009 with Alfred Molina. There have also been several radio adaptations, including two separate versions starring Vincent Price and Peter Lorre, both of which I'd like to hear. I should probably catch up with these “Lodgers” eventually, as Hitchcock's original has some elements I really like but doesn't quite work as a whole. [7/10]

X: The Man with X-Ray Eyes (1968)

Roger Corman will always be remembered as the penny-pitching producer, whose various studios essentially acted as film school for a number of soon-to-be-great directors. As a filmmaker himself, he's probably best known for his ability to work extremely quickly and cheaply, sometimes making entirely different movies with allotted time left over from other projects. While not every one of his fifty-six directorial credits are worth watching, he has had a hand in plenty of fan favorites and cult classics. Such as 1968's “X: The Man with X-Ray Eyes.” Filmed for all of 300,000 dollars,  “X” represents Corman at the height of his psychedelic late sixties peak.

Dr. James Xavier is a scientist frustrated that human eyes can only process such a small range of the visible spectrum. His experimental eye drops successful expand a test monkey's field of vision, at the price of killing it. This looses Xavier his funding, causing him to use his compound on his own eyes. He develops x-ray vision, which comes and goes without warning and varies in intensity. After accidentally killing a colleague, he goes on the run, working odd jobs as a carnival sideshow attraction or a miracle healer in hopes of continuing to raise funds for his research. He also soon learns that x-ray vision without an off-switch can have horrifying ramifications, his sanity starting to strain.

“X: The Man with X-Ray Eyes” is an especially novel sci-fi/horror hybrid for slowly revealing why its titular wouldn't be as cool as it sounds. The film basically has a nudie-cutie premise, though it naturally keeps everything G-rated during the totally expected sequence where a party full of swinging college girls is suddenly rendered nude. Dr. Xavier is initially delighted with his new ability. However, Xavier soon starts to see through his own eyelids, making him unable to block out any light. He can only see other humans as walking skeletons or collections of veins and organs. His view of the world is soon rendered a day-glo nightmare. Corman frequently assumes Xavier's point-of-view, showing the audience psychedelic landscapes of stripped buildings and searing colors. By the end, “X” even veers towards cosmic horror, as Xavier starts to see through the layers of reality itself to visuals man was never meant to observe.

In fact, Corman seems to hint at a religious subtext with “X.” I can't recall right now where that quote about God being able to observe but never act originates from, but Dr. Xavier soon finds himself in a similar situation. He can see into people's bodies, spotting growing cancers or broken bones. Even though he's eventually talked into acting as a miracle healer, he can't actually fix what's wrong with the people who come to him. Eventually, Dr. Xavier develops a minor god complex, once he uses his powers to break the odds in a Vegas casino, subtly hinting he no longer considers himself totally human anymore... Which also seems to bring an odd Christ element to the story, as the story of someone with a devotion to a higher power and amazing abilities but trapped in a world of more earthly concerns.

“X” is a sci-fi thriller made when Corman was knee-deep in gothic horrors like his Poe films, “The Haunted Palace,” and “The Terror.” So the movie smartly doesn't include a classical genre star like Vincent Price or Boris Karloff. Instead, Ray Milland plays the conveniently named Dr. X. Milland doesn't go for camp, even though he often chuckles or grins in his early scenes. Once his x-ray vision starts to ruin his life, Milland's performance becomes effectively grim. Xavier is a serious dude grappling with serious issues, so this is a fitting approach and one that works for the film. The supporting cast includes an angelic Diana Van der Vlis as Xavier's lab partner/possible love interest, a fantastically sleazy Don Rickles as the carnival barker that attempts to exploit the doctor's gifts, and an uncredited Dick Miller as a humbled heckler at the sideshow.

Like a lot of people, I imagine, I first heard about “X: The Man with X-Ray Eyes” in Stephen King's “Danse Macabre.” King was especially impressed with the movie's impressively grisly ending. He also claimed there was a rumored alternate ending, which would've brilliantly extended Corman's premise even further. The “I can still see!” ending has long since passed into horror nerd legend, though Corman would eventually admit that version was never shot. I imagine if a remake is ever produced – Tim Burton supposedly considered one in the nineties and, more recently, Juan Carlos Fresnadillo was attached to one – it'll include that infamous last line. As for the original, it's a creative and nicely chilling bit of sixties sci-fi shock. [7/10]

Chopping Mall (1986)

I've talked about this before but, in the world of horror cinema, never underestimate the value of a catchy, trashy title. In 1986, Concorde Pictures would release a low-budget sci-fi slasher movie set in a shopping mall, directed by soon-to-be-prolific slease-meister and New World Pictures graduate Jim Wynorski. It was given the title “Killbots,” which is fitting, as its about a group of killer robots. Though I think that's a pretty bitchin' title, I guess it didn't grab people, as the film flopped in theaters. Later on, the movie would be re-released under the title “Chopping Mall,” which admittedly doesn't tell you much about the movie other than its a slasher movie set in a mall. But it's a funny pun and a sick joke and that actually got people to watch the movie. While “Killbots” might've been forgotten, “Chopping Mall” has become a cult classic.

Park Plaza Mall has recently gone all-in on a high tech new security system. After the mall closes and all the employees check out for the day, neigh impenetrable steel doors slam shut around all the entrances. A group of high-tech robots, armed with snapping claws and laser beam shooting visors, are then unleashed to patrol the interior of the mall. The seller assures the mall owners that the robots are perfectly harmless to any genuine employees. A group of horny teenagers – Rick and Linda, Greg and Suzie, Mike and Leslie and nerdy Ferdy and Allison – decide to stay behind in the mall after hours for some drinking and fucking. That's when a lightening bolt strikes the mall's power grid, causing the robot security guards to become totally homicidal.

The slasher genre is not well-known for its intelligently written scripts. “Chopping Mall” is a movie with an especially goofy premise. The idea that some shitty mall would be able to afford such a high tech security system – or that such an advanced product would even be sold to commercial locations like malls – is patently ridiculous. I think laser-spewing robots were probably outside of the budget of some flea-beaten shopping center, even in the eighties. “Choping Mall” opens with a sequence that set-ups its premise in excruciating detail. So we know exactly when the doors will shut, how long they'll stay shut, and what the robots inside can do. Not to mention the group of teenage victims – all played by actors clearly in their thirties – are about as indistinct a collection of fodder I've ever seen, most of them defined exclusively by their interest in booze and fucking.

However, ridiculous has never really been a problem with the horror genre, as long as everyone is having a good time. And “Chopping Mall” is definitely having a good time. The movie is full of in-jokes for cult movie fans. Within its opening minutes, there's a cameo from Paul Bartel and Mary Woronov, reprising their characters from “Eating Raoul.” (Bartel gets the movie's first big laugh, with his line about the robot's “uncomfortable ethnic quality.”) Dick Miller reappears as Walter Paisey, this time a short-lived janitor. The gun store inside the mall is named “Peckinpah's.” “Attack of the Crab Monsters” is watched on TV. In this atmosphere, the casting of horror favorites like Kelly Mahoney, Barbara Crampton, and Gerrit Graham seem very intentional.

“Chopping Mall” embraces its gleefully dumb-ass mood to such a degree that you can't help but get caught up in it. The characters are such broad caricatures, most of the dudes dumb jocks and the women all eye candy. (Wynorski, always the sleaze, lingers on an actress' ass for a solid minute.) They are designed to die in ridiculous ways which, of course, they do. Heads are exploded and there's quite a lot of pyrotechnics. In fact, “Chopping Mall” feels as much action movie as slasher flick sometimes, as there's a lot of gun play in the second half. Then there's the Killbots themselves, which are pretty cool designs. It's easy to see a connecting fiber to “Lost in Space's” Robot or Gort, these homicidal goofballs having that classic Hollywood robot aesthetic.

Some would probably accuse “Chopping Mall” of being a little too self-aware, as its the kind of nudge-nudge “isn't this all so silly?” B-movie experience that turns a lot of people off. Yet it can never be said that Jim Wynorski's love of low budget schlock isn't sincere. Killer robots, a neat mall setting, gratuitous T&A, and an exploding head: I mean, really, if you can't have a good time with that, what the hell is wrong with you? Horror fans of a certain type would lap the movie up, turning it into a favorite of some sort. There's even been talks of a remake, that would bizarrely ditch the killbots for evil mannequins... Not quite sure what the point of that would be, especially since malls barely exist anymore. [7/10]

American Mary (2012)

The Soska Sisters have certainly made a name for themselves. The directing team have built a fan following not so much on their films but their public personas. They have the undeniably catchy gimmick of being actual twin sisters, frequently show up at conventions, and even hosted a game show for a while. But, ya know, they are filmmakers too. I still haven't caught up with “Dead Hooker in a Trunk” while “Vendetta” and “See No Evil 2” didn't seem to make much of an impression on anyone. Which means most of their actual creative reputation is based on their second feature, 2012's “American Mary.”

Mary Mason is hoping to become a surgeon but she's struggling with both her studies and her student loans. Needing the money, she interviews for a job as a stripper. Instead, she ends up stitching up a bullet wound in the basement. Mary is soon recruited by other people needing underground surgery. After helping a woman reach her dream of being a living barbie doll, Mary's work becomes popular in the body modification scene. After she is assaulted by one of her professors, she uses her new connections and talents to seek revenge. Eventually, she starts to wonder if her sanity is slipping.

As a cishet dude, I probably don't have much right to read into this but: “American Mary” seems to be speaking to a very feminine discomfort with the body. Mary's body modification clients are overwhelmingly women. In this extreme subculture, she is often asked to help other women re-work their bodies to fulfill their identity. She slices away the Barbie Doll woman's nipples and gives her a smooth crotch. Fellow stripper Beatrice has totally rearranged her body to resemble Betty Boop. The Soskas themselves appear as a pair of twins with an odd request. Mary herself is going through a transformation too. She flees from the trauma of her assault by reworking her own persona, eventually questioning her sanity. It's body horror in the purest sense, all about the mental becoming the physical and a fundamental rebellion between mind and body.

The Soskas wrote “American Mary” as a vehicle for Katharine Isabelle, a cult favorite actress who has gotten few chances to really show off her ability. Isabelle's performance is built upon a deadpan wit. At first, she reacts to the increasingly strange events around her with a poker-faced bafflement. Yet, as her character undergoes more trauma, Isabelle's goth girl snark clearly becomes a defense mechanism against an increasingly cruel world. Isabelle has her vulnerable moments too, such as her quiet reaction to the death of her beloved grandmother.

If it wasn't for its moment of extreme body horror, “American Mary” probably wouldn't even qualify as a horror movie. This is primary a very dark comedy. After all, the film opens with Mary practicing her sutures on Thanksgiving turkeys. Which, after she looses her job, she then cooks and eats. There's a certain absurdity to the oddball characters she encounters. Beatrice the Betty Boop look-a-like, especially her profane interaction with her coke-head niece, is such a bizarre but oddly sincere character. Once she gets her body modification business up and running, the film becomes a parade of deadpan reactions to people either not extreme enough or not smart enough to keep their fingers off their scars.

There's so much working in “American Mary's” favor – the Soska's stylish direction, the sick sense of humor, Isabelle's performance – that it's easy to forgive the movie's biggest sin. Namely, its plot is a shaggy mess. After she takes her gruesome revenge on her raping professor, a plot line an entire separate essay could be written about, the movie doesn't really have a proper story anymore. While the film tries to rebuild the central conflict around Mary's fear she's loosing it, it doesn't quite wash. The entire second half of the movie feels like the film shuffling through different subplots. The most inessential of which is the strip club owner developing a crush on Mary. All the various plot threads ramble along before coming to a sudden, largely unsatisfying conclusion.

It seems to me the Soskas had an extremely strong character in their minds, along with some great gags, and only about half an actual plot. Then again, for a film with such a strong central character, that's so much about her transformation, a shaky narrative construction is not such a big deal. “American Mary” is a creative and delightfully sick blast of grotesquery and that should probably be enough. It's certainly enough for me to trust the Soskas with their next project, currently awaiting release: A remake of David Cronenberg's “Rabid.” [7/10]

Salt (2017)

The internet horror short pretty much has a formula now. A long build-up involving an isolated character encountering some sort of horrible monster, that ends with a jump scare. Rob Savage's “Salt” doesn't exactly break this mold but it is entertaining in its own right. The short concerns a mother – played by “Prevenge's” Alice Lowe – taking care of her sickly daughter in their creepy home. Their house is filled with circles of salt and there's good reason for that. A demon, that can only be held back by the age old charms, is pursuing them. When the little girl goes into a coughing fit, Mom has to venture downstairs for medicine and encounters the demon once again.

Even if the premise of a monster with an easily understood weakness has been done-to-death in the last few years, “Salt” at least has a mythological precedence. It also proves surprisingly versatile, able to keep the demon out and also trap it. The short has excellent production design, as the cramped interior of the house tells you so much about these characters just within the opening seconds. The demon is a pretty neat creation, a smoky and twitching shadow beast with an animal skull for a head. Savage's direction is energetic and creates some solid tension during an encounter in a crowded store room. (Though the demon's ability to manipulate electronics feels like a cheat.) It all ends on a nicely nasty twist ending. “Salt” is a pretty fun little two minutes. I hope Savage gets to direct more features soon, though I'm not sure I'm interested in a feature version of this particular story. [7/10]