Halloween 2019: October 28th

3 from Hell (2019)

Say whatever you will about Rob Zombie: Filmmaker but most people agree 'The Devil's Rejects” is his best movie. (Maybe his only good movie, depending on where you stand.) The psychedelic vulgarity of “House of a 1000 Corpses” is interesting, if unfocused. “Lords of Salem” had its moments. I'll even defend parts of his “Halloween.” Yet “Halloween II” and “31” represented the filmmaker at his most self-indulgent, drowning in directionless excess. When it was announced Zombie would be returning to the Firefly brood, I was initially intrigued. The title “3 from Hell” suggested a return to the supernatural elements of his debut. Instead, Zombie revealed he would resurrect his hideous brood in the laziest way possible. The gang simply survive their obviously fatal wounds at the end of “Rejects,” negating the ending's soulfulness and making me deeply uninterested in a third film. But what am I going to do? Not review this thing?

Yes, Otis, Baby, and Captain Spaulding somehow survive the “Free Bird” hail of bullets that concluded “The Devil's Rejects.” The infamous trio are left in critical condition, going into comas. They awaken on death row, Captain Spaulding being sentenced to death and the other two getting life sentences. Ten years later, the Rejects have become counter-cultural cult figures. With the help of his previously unmentioned brother Foxy, Otis escapes prison. He soon springs Baby from the clink. The new trio head to Mexico, leaving more bodies in their wake. Eventually, they cross paths with the drug lord son of a previous victim.

“3 from Hell” does little to dispel the notion that Rob Zombie brought the Fireflies back to life because he was completely out of any other ideas. The film frequently plays like a greatest hits reel for Zombie. A stopover in a hotel, which ends in brutality, and the Rejects holding a family captive in their home and torturing them are quotes from “The Devil's Rejects.” A slow-mo full frontal murder scene set to a Slim Whitman song is from “House of 1000 Corpses.” Baby's surreal daydreams of a cat-headed ballerina recall the acid horror of “Lords of Salem.” When not repeating himself, Zombie has his character just... Doin' stuff. This is a frequently directionless hang-out movie, devoted to the Fireflies talking shit, partying and occasionally killing people. There are totally superfluous sequences, like Baby entering a knife throwing contest or Clint Howard's cameo as the worst party clown ever. The plot is essentially wrapped up half-way through, when Baby is busted from prison. Zombie has to invent an entirely separate story in the second half in order to keep the movie going. (And continue-to-go it does. The film is almost two hours long.)

What is most frustrating about “3 from Hell's” totally lackadaisical approach is that there's interesting ideas contained within. The Fireflies becoming cult icons is dumb but could've set up an interesting confrontation between the killers and their new fans. This never happens. At one point, Baby flat-out asks what the point of the Fireflies' nihilistic lifestyle is anymore. The bubbliest Firefly genuinely seems to be tiring of being a serial killer, if her friendly interactions with a sympathetic hotel employee is any indication. After nearly an hour of recycled slaughter and aimless partying, “3 from Hell” becomes a spaghetti western pastiche. Which is kind of fun and cool, the Fireflies becoming pitch-black anti-heroes against luchador mask wearing drug cartel thugs. It's not fresh but at least it's different from the first two movies.

All that aside, I sort of get why Rob Zombie made this movie. He loves these characters and just wanted to spend more time with them. That's why he wasted so little energy conceptualizing their resurrection. He just wanted them back, just wanted another adventure, and didn't care how. The cast is doing some interesting things. During her most unhinged moments, Sheri Moon successfully recalls the manic heights of “House of 1000 Corpses.” Yet there's also something sadder going on here, the character realizing she's lost her way. Her interaction with Pancho Malor's innocent hotel worker are rather interesting. Bill Mosely is more obviously tired, as he doesn't bring the same bite to Otis' arch, vulgar dialogue. Even then, the scenes devoted to him talking about classic movies are kind of fun.

Obviously Sid Haig was intended to have a larger role but his failing health limited his role to a fiery monologue at the very beginning. Zombie rather lazily swapped Spaudling out for his new favorite character actor, Richard Brake, as a family member that previously never existed. Brake does okay, for what it's worth, but the switch is still awkward. You can tell “3 from Hell” had a smaller budget than either previous film. The soundtrack has fewer classic rock radio standards. The cast has fewer recognizable cult icons. (Howard, a briefly returning Danny Trejo, and Dee Wallace as a sadistic prison guard are about it.) Jeff Daniel Phillips, as the prison official watching over Baby, tries to capture the sweaty levels of over-the-top nuttiness seen previously in Zombie's movies but just can't hack it.

Zombie's style as a director has not evolved in any meaningful way. “3 from Hell” looks as grimy and sun-faded as “Rejects” and “31” were. His action sequences feature a lot more Peckinpah-esque slow motion than expected. (“Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia” was an obvious inspiration.) The ten year jump into the future means “3 from Hell” is set in 1988 but, aside from a split second shot of a photo of Ronald Reagan, there's no indication of that. This still feels like the burnt-out seventies, especially in a rowdy party with Mexican prostitutes. I will give Rob this much. Somehow, this movie represents a step back from the hideously unpleasant excess of “Halloween II” and “31.” The dialogue is still steeped in F-bombs but less exhaustively edgy than in those films. There's little of the spark or energy that made “The Devil's Rejects” so endlessly quotable but Zombie is audibly trying to recapture that.

Zombie can at least be commended for not attempting to replicate “Rejects'” strangely powerful ending. No, “3 from Hell” concludes by giving the Fireflies the closest thing to a happy ending that is possible for them. Which is a major anticlimax, as it makes the film feel like it just ends, that it's just an episode in some endless saga. And maybe it is, because there's nothing stopping Rob from doing this again in another ten years. “3 from Hell” certainly does not justify its own existence. It's a tired film, hopelessly straining in the shadow of “The Devil's Rejects.” It's not even a good tribute to the late, great Sid Haig. But it's not totally worthless either and is slightly better than I anticipated and then the acidic reviews suggested. [6/10]

Ben (1972)

Movie studios might not have been as wild for horror sequels in the seventies as they would become in the next decade. Still, a success of “Willard's” level – not to mention the waves of knock-offs and similarly themed films that followed – suggested the public might be hungry for a killer rat sequel. Willard died at the end of the first movie but who needs a human protagonist when you have a homicidal rat you can build a movie around? Thus, the premise for a follow-up emerged, Ben the rat supplanting Bruce Davidson as the star of the show. Rushed out for release the very next summer, “Ben” would be another box office success, if not on the level of the original. But that's not the reason people remember this movie, when they remember it at all.

“Ben” actually utilizes some of the untouched elements from Stephen Gilbert's original book. Such as a scene of the rats infiltrating a grocery store or the rodent attacks driving the public into an anti-rat panic, the government forming rat exterminating kill-squads. After his death, Willard's notebooks leak to the press. This starts a manhunt (rat-hunt?) for Ben and his brood of verminous offspring, who are just trying to survive. Ben befriends Danny Garrison, a lonely little boy with a heart condition. Soon, Danny and Ben are called upon to protect each other, as the boy is bullied and the exterminators close in on the rats.

“Ben” is a movie that occupies two worlds. The first of which is a nasty horror movie about rats invading human spaces. In that regard, “Ben” is actually more effective than “Willard.” Even speaking as someone with no fear of rats, sequences of rats swarming through a grocery store or filling out the interior walls of a building are squirm-inducing. The rats bring down police officers, wreck an eighteen wheeler, and absolutely infest the sewers underneath suburban streets. People scream as rats crawl all over their bodies. Aside from a campy scene of the rats invading a women's gym, “Ben” is an effective horror movie.

That's just half the movie “Ben” is, though. The other half is an extremely sappy kid's flick. The scenes devoted to Danny and Ben's relationship feel like something out of a Disney family film of the same era. Danny, also an amateur puppeteer, performs elaborate marionette shows for Ben. He even makes a puppet of the rat, which dances in one scene! Danny cuddles with Ben, sings songs for him, plays games with him, puts him in a box, and declares him his best friend. Ben, in return, rescues Danny from bullies and happily watches Danny perform. Lee Montgomery's performance is as gee-shucks adorable as you can imagine. In the end, after the cops wipe out all the other rats, Danny and Ben have a tearful reunion. This subplot is best summed up by Michael Jackson's saccharine theme song, which is performed several times throughout the film. Ultimately, the tonal shifts are whiplash inducing. The film can not correlate Ben, the lovable pet, with Ben, the leader of the bloody rat revolution. The disconnect is real.

“Willard” had some, probably unintentional, racial connotations. Socrates, the white rat, was beloved and accepted. Ben, and all the other brown and black rats, were rejected and scorned. The sequel leans into this aspect. Though the film obviously plays Ben's rebellion for horror, it's also emphasizes that he's just striving to live. The last act is devoted to extended scenes of the police exterminating the hordes of rats. They march into the sewer lair with flamethrowers and shotguns, eliminating every last screeching one of them. The police are being unnecessarily brutal. The cops also, pointedly, utilize fire hoses. The film's detective and journalist heroes are played straight. Yet the film is clearly depicting law enforcement officers are oppressors and the rats as antiheroes of sorts. (I'm willing to bet, however, that racial minorities did not appreciate being compared to literal vermin.)

I'm sure Bing Crosby Productions – did I mention that Bing Crosby produced these movies? – didn't loose money on “Ben.” However, M.J.'s theme song would have a far greater impact on pop culture history. It would be the iconic performer's first number one hit, would win a Golden Globe and be nominated for an Oscar. While the movie has been more-or-less forgotten, the song remains well known. To the point that most people probably don't even know that this romantic ballad to friendship was originally intended for a rat. (And it's certainly fitting that Jacko, self appointed King of the Freaks, would perform a totally sincere love song to a murderous rodent.) The sequel certainly has its moments and is, in some ways, better than its predecessor. Yet those kid-friendly scenes are almost unbearable. [6/10]

Tales from the Darkside: Halloween Candy

When George Romero and producer Richard P. Rubinstein realized they couldn't make “Creepshow: The Series,” as they weren't the sole owners of the film's right, they decided to make “Tales from the Darkside” instead. The show would largely ditch the comic book gimmick but keep the idea of tales of presenting macabre and the fantastic on a weekly basis. Frequent cable broadcast and nostalgic memories of seeing the show in syndication has made “Tales from the Darkside” a cult classic. (Part of this can definitely be attributed to the show's excessively spooky opening narration.) While not every episode was horror related, the show frequently veered in that direction. Naturally, that's the genre that was chosen when episodes revolving around Halloween, like season two's “Halloween Candy,” arrived.

Mr. Killup is a bitter old man with no use for frivolity or joy, caring only for food. His son, whom he is also hateful towards, stops by on Halloween night. He doesn't want to clean eggshells off dad's house again and insists on bringing some Halloween candy by. Dad instead keeps the candy for himself and gives trick-or-treators glue and mayonnaise. Late at night on the 31st, a very strange trick-or-treator comes to Killup's door step. The apparent child demands candy and won't take no for an answer. Killup soon awakens in a nightmarish night of endless horror.

Since “Creepshow” was inspired by the E.C. Comics, it's only fitting that “Tales from the Darkside” would frequently feature stories of mean people getting punished. That's exactly what “Halloween Candy” is. Roy Poole is perfectly nasty as the old man, a total asshole who heaps scorn on absolutely everyone. Tom Savini directs the episode and captures a decently spooky Halloween tone in the few shots of the outside of the house. The demonic trick-or-treator has an appealingly scaly design. The way it leaps through the air in slow-mo is kind of cheesy though. “Halloween Candy” doesn't really have time to explore concepts like time loops in its brief half-hour run time. It's gooey horrors, like a bag moving across the floor on its own or a glass full of roaches, are more effective. Overall, “Halloween Candy” never truly impresses but has enough clever tricks and fun ideas to sustain its brief run time. [7/10]

Polaroid (2015)

Earlier in the Halloween season, I watched the remake of “Child's Play.” Swedish director Lars Klevberg got that gig based on the strength of “Polaroid,” a long-shelved haunted camera flick he previously directed. While the feature version was finally released earlier this year, I opted instead to watch Klevberg's original short, as horror shorts are almost always superior to their feature expansions. The short follows two teenager girls, Sarah and Linda, who are trying to kill time while snowed-in at Sarah's house. They discover an old Polaroid Instamatic camera, a possession of Sarah's recently passed mother. After snapping a picture of themselves with the device, spooky shit begins to happen.

What does work about “Polaroid” is Klevberg's visual sense. The entire short has a gloomy, nighttime greenish-blue coloration to it that I rather like. (The use of color was also a highlight of Klevberg's Chucky remake, so clearly it's a strength for him.) There's a stand-out moment of suspense, when a someone crawls across the floor under a swinging light bulb. Sadly, there's not much else of interest in “Polaroid.” The girls never come to life as characters. Their long scenes of dialogue do not build up their personality but just seem to be killing time. There's no interior logic to the film's events. Once the old camera is snapped, ghostly incidents happen for no rhyme or reason. It all builds up to a lame jump scare, as seemingly all horror shorts on the internet must. “Polaroid” certainly suggest its director has the potential to create an effective horror film but he's not quite there yet. [5/10]