Halloween 2019: September 30th

Masque of the Red Death (1964)

With five – six if you count “The Haunted Palace” – successful Poe adaptations under their collective belts, Roger Corman and A.I.P. were clearly growing more confident in their popular horror series. The previous movies were clearly an American answer to Hammer's long-running series of Victorian monster pictures. Corman had brought an increased level of surreal visuals and psychological insight to each successive Poe adaptation. With “Masque of the Red Death,” the director was officially influenced more by Ingmar Bergman's “The Seventh Seal” and other European art movies than A.I.P.'s competitors at Hammer. The result was, by-far, the most ambitious entry in the Poe Cylce.

In medieval Italy, the Satan-worshiping Prince Prospero lives a life of decadence and wealth. He torments the poor villagers who live under him, frequently for nothing more than his own amusement. While riding through such a village, Prospero is insulted by two of the starving commoners. When he threatens to put both of them to death, a virtuous young maiden steps forward. Impressed with the girl's tenacity, Prospero takes her into his castle. At the same time, he discovers that the red death – a plague that causes bleeding from the skin – is sweeping through the village. While the disease ravages the countryside, Prospero and his similarly decadent followers have a masquerade party inside his castle. But the Red Death will only be denied for so long...

Though made in the early sixties, based on a story from the 1840s, and set in the 12th century, “Masque of the Red Death” is truly a film for our times. Does the story of the rich amusing themselves with increasingly sadistic distractions while the world outside their opulent walls burn remind you of anything? “Masque' couldn't more clearly be a tale of class division and the abuse of power. Prospero and his minions see the underclass – and, indeed, all lives except their own – as nothing but playthings, to dance and die for their amusement. The poor often throw themselves on the rich's mercy, as they have absolutely no other options, and usually get mockery and death in return. However, Prospero's wealth ultimately does not protect him from the plague. While Corman adds a religious element to Poe's story, making Prospero a Satanist and his virginal foil a Christian, the universe's retribution is as agnostic as Poe's. This is not an ironic punishment for Prospero's crimes. The Red Death comes for (nearly) everyone, rich and poor alike. It's a startlingly fatalistic message but, nevertheless, speaks clearly to our time of inequality.

All of Corman's Poe movies have featured surreal “trip” sequences, usually in the forms of color-tinted nightmares or hallucinations. “Masque of the Red Death” has a sequence like this too, where Prospero's mistress offers herself to Satan and is tormented by a series of different, spectral attackers. However, Corman makes the logical decision to basically make the entire movie the “trip.” The foggy atmosphere, gothic sets, and intentionally artificial backdrops are present, like always. Yet the film has a number of surreal touches throughout. A dwarf woman is played by a child dubbed over with an adult's voice. The multi-colored rooms of Prospero's castle – taken directly from Poe's story – are moved through with increased frenzy as the film progresses. The film's final chilling images, a rainbow of different hooded deaths meeting on a foggy hillside, is obviously inspired by Bergman. Yet the lyrical strangeness of this moment stands on its own.

Like with a few of Corman's other Poe adaptations, “Masque of the Red Death” still struggles with expanding a short story to feature length. In order to pad out the run time, the film includes a number of subplots. Prospero's mistress devoting herself to the devil, in hopes of appeasing both her earthly and infernal lords, is a story disposed of bluntly about half-way through the film. The film incorporates another Poe story, “Hop-Frog,” into the proceedings. Though speaking to the same themes, this doesn't have much to do with the main plot either. Despite these digressions, the pacing never falters. “Masque” still ramps up to an effectively alarming climax. The images of the Red Death striking the revelers dead, their skin stained with blood with a swish of his cloak, only increases in dread as it goes on.

While most of Price's characters throughout the Poe Cycle have been tragic antiheroes, driven to villainous madness by circumstances outside their control, Prospero is a full-blown villain. Prospero is utterly contemptuous towards everyone around him, Christians most of all. He cares nothing for other humans, only being amused by their humiliation, pain and suffering. Price's ability to make every line drip with sinister intent is ideally utilized here. If Price's Prospero is never anything less than fully devilish, Jane Asher is perfectly angelic as Francesca. Gorgeous, Asher works well as a symbol of incorruptible purity, in contrast to Prospero's depraved evil. Hazel Court is delightful as the ignored, abused mistress, desperate to be as wicked as her master.

In 1964, “Masque of the Red Death” was not as successful as the previous Poe adaptations. Corman suspected the movie might have been a little too artsy-fartsy for the drive-in audience, though he remains fond of it. This same quality makes the movie easily the most highly regarded of the series today. (That future arthouse fave Nicolas Roeg was the film's cinematographer surely hasn't hurt its reputation.) While there are others I like a little more, “Masque of the Red Death” is pretty clearly a fantastic experience onto itself. Corman would produce a little-seen remake in 1989, with Adrian Paul stepping into the role of Prospero. Ironically, the same year, a Poe-themed slasher movie with the same title starring Frank Stallone would also be released, leading to some confusion among cult movie nerds. [9/10]

Nightmares (1983)

For whatever reason, the horror anthology concept experienced a revival of interest in the early eighties. I've never quite been able to figure out what triggered this. I guess the kids who grew up reading E.C. Comics and watching “The Twilight Zone” were old enough to be filmmakers themselves at this point. On television, we got “Tales from the Darkside,” “Amazing Stories,” “Freddy's Nightmares,” “The Hitchhiker,” and new versions of “The Twilight Zone” and “Alfred Hitchcock Presents.” In theaters, the concept was kept alive with “Creepshow” and its sequel, the “Twilight Zone” movie, “The Monster Club,” and 1983's “Nightmares.” Long out print for years, the film was recently given a Blu-Ray re-release from the reliable folks at Scream Factory.

“Nightmares” lacks a wrap-around segment or any sort of host. Instead, its four chapters are all being inspired by various urban legends. In “Terror in Topanga,” the titular California town is terrorized by a knife-wielding murderer, a recent escapee from a mental hospital. Lisa leaves her family behind late in the evening to get cigarettes, unaware that the killer is hiding in her backseat. In “The Bishop of Battle,” a teenage boy becomes obsessed with a new video game, with flashy vector graphics, at the mall arcade. Soon, he discovers the game may be more dangerous than he realized. In “The Benediction,” a Catholic priest's crisis of faith comes to a head when he has a frightening encounter with a driverless black pick-up truck. Lastly, “Night of the Rat” depicts the peace of a family's suburban home being disturbed by the presence of an enormous rat which may be a creature from Germanic lore.

Every segment in “Nightmares” was directed by Joseph Sargent, most famous for action movies like “White Lightning” or “The Taking of Pelham One Two Three.” The wildly divergent quality of his other genre credits – “Colossus: The Forbin Project” and “Jaws: The Revenge” – suggest to me that Sargent's competence varied from project to project. Take, for example, the opening “Terror in Topanga” segment here. Of all the chapters in “Nightmares,” its the one that hews the most to its urban legend roots. If you have any familiarity with the “Killer in the backseat” story, you know where this is going. Yet, despite telling a well-known story, it's depicted with a surprising ferocity. An opening stabbing is an effective jump scare, drawn out in an impressively grisly way. A similarly surprising second jump scare is saved for the end, when the gas station attendant leaps to the woman's rescue in the creepiest way possible. Maybe “Terror in Topanga” works because we already know where it's headed, creating a sustained air of unease that something bad could happen at any minute.

The second story is probably “Nightmares'” most famous, as it was commenting on the still relatively new phenomenon of video game arcades. This was probably the first time actors interacted with computer-generated characters on-screen, even if the vector graphics are as primitive as can be. Emilo Estevaz – who was still something of a sex symbol at the time and wears tight blue jeans throughout its run, likely contributing to “Nightmares'” cult following – is fairly obnoxious as the video game addicted delinquent. (Though he has good taste in music, listening to some bitchin' hardcore punk throughout the segment.) The Bishop of Battle game, obviously inspired by “Tempest,” comes off as a pretty silly today. The segment never generates much tension, due to the goofiness of its central threat. However, it is interesting that only a few years after the killer video game legend came into existence, it was already being adapted into film.

Easily my favorite segment of “Nightmares” is “The Benediction.” I've always been fascinated with the phantom vehicle legend, of something very ordinary looking becoming something frightening. The black pick-up truck – visually unremarkable, save for the inverted crucifix hanging from its rear-view mirror – is driven in a very personable manner. The way it frequently drives backwards, spinning around as it closes in on its target, is pretty cool. The visual of the truck exploding up out of the earth is certainly a memorable one. Secondly, the episode has a strong performance from Lance Henriksen in its favor. Henriksen doesn't speak much, instead conveying his inner turmoil through that fantastically leathery face of his. When that gravelly voice is discussing the existence of God in a senselessly violent world, you can't help but listen. Save for a hokey climax, the segment is tense in a very fun way with a compelling central performance.

The concluding segment, “Night of the Rat,” has some cool ideas. A family threatened by a giant, seemingly supernatural rat is a good idea for a horror story. Veronica Cartwright, who panics fantastically as the housewife, has several frightening encounters with the beast. Especially tense is a stare-down she has with the huge rat in the house's basement, after discovering the family cat disemboweled. The segment smartly keeps its monster off-screen until the very end, building more suspense around the question of whether it's a supernatural beast or just an exceptionally large rat. The problem with “Night of the Rat” is the the family's patriarch, played by a blustering Richard Masur, is a huge asshole. He's also dismissive of his child and treats his wife with nothing but scorn. While you are sympathetic to the wife and daughter, the dad's redemptive arc is harder to buy into to.

For years, rumors circulated that “Nightmares” was composed of segments originally recorded for the short-lived horror anthology series “Darkroom” but rejected for being too intense to air on television. If that always sounded like bullshit to you, turns out you were right to be skeptical. It was recently revealed that, while “Nightmares” was originally intended for television, it was designed as a pilot for an entirely new series. An on-going series inspired by urban legends would've been cool but I imagine they probably would've ran out of materiel eventually. Nevertheless, “Nightmares'” individual segments are strong enough that, if that level of quality was maintained, a series version probably would've been pretty strong. How an unsold pilot ended up in theaters, I don't know, but horror fans have made the movie a minor cult classic. [7/10]

Tales from the Cryptkeeper: Hunted

Sasquatch-like creatures are another classic horror premise the original “Tales from the Crypt” series never touched upon, so the cartoon picks up the slack again. “Hunted” – funny how both of the shows I'm watching this September have an episode with that title – concerns a poacher capturing exotic animals for profit somewhere in South America. That's when he hears the local legend of a hairy, up-right ape-like creatures. He sets up to hunt and capture the mythological beast but the monster turns out to be far from make believe.

“Hunted” earns points for a number of nice touches. First off, its Bigfoot-style monster is not just your typical hairy sasquatch. It also has crocodilian features, a possibly but probably unlikely reference to the mapinguari. The beast also has supernatural powers, which are slowly revealed in a nice way. The episode has a genuinely surprising twist ending, the poacher getting a suitably ironic punishment that is crueler (and more fitting) than you'd expect from the kid-friendly “Cryptkeeper.” As you'd expect, the moral here is one of respecting nature and conservation. Which is a very worthy message but, as is all too typical of this show, it's hammered home a little too strongly. Lastly, the host segment has the Cryptkeeper singing and riding a motorcycle. Which is amazing until, as I've come to sadly expect by now, the annoying Old Witch and Vault-Keeper show up. [7/10]

Forever Knight: Can’t Run, Can’t Hide

In “Can’t Run, Can’t Hide,” “Forever Knight” touches upon much more recent history than it usually does. Someone is murdering Vietnam veterans. At the latest crime scene, Nick recognizes the symbol left behind by the killer. The vampire worked for the Red Cross during the war and happen to be in a village, giving medicine to sick kids, the night before US soldiers massacred the innocent inhabitants there. Now it’s clear that someone — someone undead — is tracking down and killing those responsible. Even if, like parole officer and youth therapist Casey Brooks, they’ve totally turned their lives around.

Like all of “Forever Knight’s” best episodes, “Can’t Run, Can’t Hide” ties Nick’s vampire past directly in with his cop present. It’s pretty interesting seeing what the vampire got up to during the Vietnam War, even if LaCroix’s tendency to always follow Nick wherever he goes is starting to become comical. The scene of the massacre is fittingly grim and, if you wanna read into it, this is yet another piece of pop culture digesting the fallout of the war on the North American psyche. (With the message pretty clearly being “America deserves any shit that happens to them because of this.”) As just a pulpy piece of television, “Can’t Run, Cant Hide” also satisfies. It’s fun watching the plot unfurl, even if it’s obvious where it’s headed. LaCroix’s flashback to the Vietnam village are well shot. We even get some vampire-on-vampire violence in this one, though it’s pretty brief. So this is likely to be among my favorite “Forever Knight” episodes. [710]