Halloween 2022: September 30th

Pearl (2022)

When it was announced, it was assumed that "X" was merely a stand-alone slasher flick. Those who saw the movie's debut at the South by Southwest festival were greeted, after the end credits, with a surprise. It was a trailer for "Pearl," an entire prequel to the movie they just finished watching. Ti West and his team shot the project in secret, immediately after production wrapped up on the first film. It was the kind of gutsy marketing stunt that easily could've backfired, if "X" wasn't successful or well received. Both movies only cost A24 two million dollars though, so maybe it wasn't such a risk after all. Luckily, the prequel was greeted by even better reviews upon release two weeks back.

Set sixty years before the events of "X," the film follows Pearl as a young woman. World War I rages in Europe, where her husband Howard is currently deployed. The Spanish Flu pandemic has increased isolation at home. Pearl toils away on her German immigrant parents' Texas farm, where she cares for her invalid father and suffers abuse at the hand of her mother, Ruth. Yet Pearl dreams of being a star, often visiting the local movie theater and enraptured by reels of dancing girls. When she hears about an upcoming audition for a dance troupe, Pearl sees it as a chance to escape her suffocating life. Her mother tells her not to go and the girl's pent-up anger explodes out. Soon, Pearl's desire to escape her situation will increase her homicidal rage.

Maxine in "X" was desperate to become a star, by any means. "Pearl" reveals that the elderly killer once had the same ambition. In the opening montage, she puts on a private dance show for the cow and sheep in the barn. She stares in awe at the girls dancing on the movie screen, dreaming about herself being in the same position. Pearl longs to be seen, to be adored. Yet, as much as she wishes to be a star, she has a competing desire not be seen. After a goose wanders into the barn during her dance and quacks at her defensively, she kills it. Later, she critically asks a photo of Howard what he's looking at. At a key moment, her mother proclaims that she sees everything Pearl does in secret. The girl wants to be seen as a star but is terrified of being judged unworthy. "Pearl" keenly wraps up the dual anxieties of someone eager to be idolized but still haunted by the fears no one will love her.

Ti West mirrors his title character's love for the movies by creating a meticulous homage to the golden age of cinema, showing that it's not just grungy horror movies he's an expert at imitating. "Pearl's" colors are bright and sharp, recalling the brilliant Technicolor glow of classic musicals and Douglas Sirk. The highly expressive score by Tyler Bates and Tim Williams swells with emotion, both exuberant and sinister. This gives the movie a sense of unreality, which is bolstered every time West slips into Pearl's elaborate daydreams. Such as a sexual encounter with a scarecrow. Or, in what might be the most unexpectedly delightful cinematic moment of the year, a full-blown song-and-dance number late in the film. The film is never cutesy with its throwback aesthetic and the handful of closing irises are very meaningfully placed. "Pearl" is an absolute spectacle to behold, playfully contrasting sunny visuals with the dark and violent world its heroine lives in. 

The mastery of the camera, editing, and production design that West displayed in "X" is also shown here. Pearl riding a bicycle off besides a cornfield almost looms like a postcard, furthering the dream-like feeling of that scene. The dinner table confrontation between mother and daughter plays out while a thunderstorm rages outside, casting ominous shadows over the room. The interior of the farmhouse is decorated in sickly greens and flesh-like reds, seeming like a seasick prison Pearl can never escape. The climax of the movie sees West creating tension with just the way the camera moves around the actresses. That's when he brilliantly drops a slasher movie cliché – a busty blonde being chased by a lunatic, who then trips and falls on nothing at the worst possible time – into this blood-soaked melodrama. This is followed by a kaleidoscopic descent totally into madness and violence. 

Much like its predecessor, "Pearl" tells an on-its-face simple story that reveals more meaning as it goes along. Symbols are dropped throughout the film. A bird in a cage seems to represent Pearl's cloistered life. A rotting roasted pig on the doorstep symbolizes her deteriorating mental state. Cross-like shadows often float in the background, suggesting the ever-present but rarely verbalized puritanical weight of tradition bearing down on Pearl. Movies themselves represents an impossible dream for Pearl, an escape to somewhere else that she can never crossover to. This is even true of her sexual life, as the caddish projectionist she courts throughout the film shows her a stag reel. Up on the screen, people are free to dance and make love however they please. In Pearl's real life, she is stuck on a farm with a drooling father and a cruel mother who insists she learn to be happy with what she has. And into this potent stew, West adds some modern-day anxieties, as setting the story during the influenza outbreak of 1918 can't help but bring our current pandemic to mind as well. 

Holding this ambitious motion picture together is a star-making performance from Mia Goth. Goth was good in "X" but "Pearl" gives her a chance to show off the kind of powder keg performer she is. She seems utterly girlish in the first half, sneaking drinks of her dad's medicine when no one is looking or joyfully dancing by herself. As the situation grows graver, Goth allows Pearl's utterly frayed nerves to show. She shrieks in fury and terror and misery, her face contorting vividly. That same face is the focus of "Pearl's" two most unforgettable moments. The first, the proper climax of the movie, is a splintering nine minute long monologue by Goth, where Pearl unfurls every anxiety and resentment she feels in her life. It's a stunning display of Goth's acting ability. The character plugs all that emotion up inside herself for the film's final frame, putting on a tortured sustained smile that West's camera lingers on, revealing everything she's feeling by covering it up. If horror movies won Oscars, Goth would be a shoe-in. She's incredible. 

West pays his due to the horror greats he loves as well. "Pearl" has clear shout-outs to "Psycho," "Night of the Hunter," and Tobe Hooper's "Eaten Alive." It also subtly calls back to "X" in several key ways. The most devastating being the audience's knowledge that Pearl isn't going to get off this farm. Still, "Pearl" is a rich enough experience to stand alone as well, if you haven't caught up with that one yet. If "X" was a brilliantly assembled and layered ode to horror's sleaziest glory days, then "Pearl" is an incredibly rich character study about the love of cinema and the madness of isolation. "MaXXXine," the eighties set capper to this trilogy that is teased after the credits and already in preproduction, is going to have to be a hell of a movie to live up to these two, some of the most exciting and brilliantly brought-to-life horror films I've seen recently. [9/10]

The Night Walker (1964)

William Castle will always be best remember for his gimmick movies. His career was defined by outrageous in-theater tricks like Emergo, Percepto, and Illusion-O. Yet I do wonder if, as the sixties winded on, he was growing tired of these nutty stunts. Or maybe he was just running out of good ideas. He'd use them less and less as the decade wind on. Nestled between the world-wide casting call for “13 Frightened Girls” and the paper axes of “Strait-Jacket” was his gimmick-less 1963 remake of “The Old Dark House.”  The next year's “The Night Walker” is probably the most notable of Castle's gimmick-less genre efforts. Castle deemed the re-teaming of former husband and wife performers Barbara Stanwyck and Robert Taylor – alongside the movie's quirky focus on dreams and a screenplay from “Psycho's” Robert Bloch – enough of a publicity stunt for this one.  

Saloon owner Irene Trent is married to Howard Trent, a blind and partially deformed millionaire with a possessive streak. Irene has reoccurring dreams about other men, which makes Howard paranoid that she's cheating on him. Following an ugly argument, where Howard accuses Irene of sleeping with Barry, his lawyer, the blind man dies in a freak laboratory accident. Yet Irene's strange dreams persists. She is haunted by nightmares of Howard and of her mysterious dream lover. Irene begins to suspect that her night time visions are crossing over with reality. She teams up with Barry to get to the bottom of this, as the figures from her dreams seemingly emerge into the waking world. 

“The Night Walker” begins with a stunning sequence, that feels like something out of an extended trailer. A gravelly narrator – immediately recognizable as veteran voice-over artist Paul Frees – intones on the subjects of dreams, reality, and death. Behind him, a swirl of bizarre images play. Among them is the incubus that graves the poster, an eyeball inside a hand, and a woman floating among a landscape. (Which, in one shot, is partially made of an outline of Freud's face.) It's really cool, very surreal, and the only time “The Night Walker” truly attempts pure dream logic. The only other moment that comes close is a sequence where Irene's dream lover invites him to a marriage. A dreamy P.O.V. tracking shot takes us inside a chapel. Speaking mannequins reside inside, a chandelier spinning over head. The sequence ends with faces spinning wildly as the scenery blurs. 

As much as “The Night Walker” is concerned with dreams, most of its other nightmare scenes are grounded in reality. Irene's dream lover and her dead husband appear to romance and taunt her in equal measure. Instead of going a fantastical route, the film frustratingly decides to find a rational explanation for everything. Irene and Barry go about investigating the landmarks she sees in her dreams, all of which are real locations. Long before this plot development, its already clear that “Night Walker” is weaving another standard gas-lighting plot. As the movie winds down towards its final reveal, the plot gets increasingly ridiculous and unlikely. Multiple characters are involved in the conspiracy. Two plot twists are dropped on us within the closing minutes, both barely justifying everything that came before.

It's not that “The Night Walker” is ineffective. Castle was adapt at engineering a good scare. The scarred, blank-eyed face of Howard appears suddenly, either through fog or from behind a door. A knife being tossed into a wall is another surprising moment. The image of a massive hole in the floor, the remains of the husband's burned up laboratory, makes for some cool shots in several scenes. The musical score, driven by strumming bass guitar, is effectively spooky. Barbara Stanwyck gives a very professional performance as Irene. She's less histrionic than Joan Crawford or Betty Davis were in similar scream queen roles, clearly trying to bring some realism by still conveying the character's terror. It's unsurprising that she has nice chemistry with Robert Taylor as Barry. I wish the film did more with their slap-slap-kiss dynamic. 

“The Night Walker” would under-performed at the box office, suggesting that maybe Castle should've included a far-out gimmick for this one after all. (Supposedly, Castle created a promotional short about hypnotism called “Experiments in Nightmares” to promote the movie. I can find no traces of it.) It would be Stanwyck's final theatrical credit and the last black-and-white movie Universal released. The movie has attracted a fair share of defenders over the years, likely owing to that creepy opening and that one notable dream sequence. It just bugs me when movies depicted dreams as logical affairs and that's a pitfall “The Night Walker” stumbles into far too often. [6/10]

Thriller: The Devil's Ticket

I've enjoyed each previous episode of "Thriller," the most beloved of the three anthology shows Boris Karloff hosted, I've reviewed. So here's another. "The Devil's Ticket" follows struggling realist artist Hector Vane who has pawned everything he and his wife, Marie, owns. Flat broke, he finally decides to begin pawning his paintings. Upon arriving at the shop, the usual owner has been replaced by seemingly the devil himself. Hector agrees to loan his soul to the Satanic pawnbroker for three months, in exchange for success and popularity. It works and Vane's paintings begin flying out of the galleries. He also gains a mistress named Nadja, whom he adores. As the months wind down, the devil agrees to not claim Vane's soul on one condition: He paints a portrait of someone else and give it to the pawnbroker, Vane essentially trading his soul for someone else's. 

"The Devil's Ticket" is based on a story from Robert Bloch, like multiple episodes of "Thriller." It puts a clever spin on the deal-with-the-devil premise... With one serious flaw. We're never given a good reason to care about Hector Vane. His ego seems to be the main thing driving him, instead of the typical artistic desire for recognition. In the first scene, he's rude to Marie, who is totally devoted to him for unexplained reasons. He repeatedly tells his mistress how much he loves her without doing a single nice thing for her. She's understandably annoyed by his lack of devotion, which obviously includes his unwillingness to leave his wife. When the devil gives him an ultimatum, he angsts endlessly about what to do without ever considering the morally correct option: Giving up his success and letting the devil take his soul. MacDonald Carey is fine in the lead, showing the proper amount of desperation, but can't overcome the guy being a total schmuck. 

Despite a whining protagonist, I did still enjoy "The Devil's Ticket." A lot of that is owed to John Emery as the devil. Emery is introduced practically twirling his mustache. The final scene even sees him donning a cape, which he swishes dramatically. The last act features some clever plot twists, as Hector attempts to outsmart Lucifer himself. Each scheme is undone in nicely ironic fashion. As is befitting the Faustian set-up, the protagonist is too clueless to realize he already had everything he needed before its too late. I've never seen an episode of “Thriller” that didn't have a go-for-the-throat ending and some nicely atmospheric black-and-white direction. This one follows suit, alongside an effectively flowery score from Morton Stevens. A less annoying hero could've made “The Devil's Ticket” a truly impressive hour of television but an amusingly sinister Emery and an otherwise strong screenplay still makes it worth a look. [7/10]

The Munsters: Pike's Pique / Low-Cal Munster 

In “Pike's Pique,” the local oil company plans to run a pipeline under the Munsters' house. Instead, they punch through into Grandpa's underground laboratory. Borden T. Pike, the company's owner, attempts to negotiate with the undead family but it repeatedly goes awry. Largely thanks to his neurotic wife and Grandpa's interference. “Low-Cal Munster” reveals that Herman is a veteran. His army unit is having a reunion soon but Herman is too chubby to fit into his old uniform. He goes on an insane diet to loose the necessary weight before the get-together. This becomes especially difficult when Thanksgiving comes along.

“Pike's Pique” is probably the funniest episode of “The Munsters” I've reviewed so far. It finds an ideal balance between goofy visual comedy, honed sixties sitcom timing, and the lovable cast delivering pun-filled punchlines. This episode always knows when to cut to a cartoonish sight gag. Eddie playing with a giant mouse trap, Grandpa turning into a wolf and leaping in the wrong direction or hanging upside down, a golf club going limp, a house of cards reassembling: All of these ridiculous sights appear just when they are needed. Fred Gwynne cracking lines about loosing your head or smashing through a table in rage is just two examples of the exuberant cast enlivening silly dialogue. It also helps that this episode has an appealing guest star in the form of Richard Deacon as Mr. Pike. His meek interactions with his paranoid wife and the monstrous family members is a rich source of laughs. 

“Low-Cal Herman,” meanwhile, is broad even by the standards of this show. The climax, of Herman tearing out of the Munster family house and intruding into a family dinner, is silly stuff indeed. Paul Lynde reappears as the near-sighted family doctor, resulting in lots of amusing puns about Herman's undead state and the doctor's poor vision. (That does come back around in an amusing way, in the episode's second half.) I'm not saying these things didn't amuse me. Gwynne struggling with slicing a vitamin pill or sneaking into the fridge in the middle of the night to eat an over-sized sausage did make me chuckle. But you can only see so many diet-related gags before it runs dry a little. For what it's worth, I do not appreciate the other Munsters fat-shaming Herman. He looks svelte enough to me. [Pike's Pique: 8/10 / Low-Cal Herman: 6/10]

Halloween 2022: September 29th

X (2022)

Over the course of about a decade, Ti West made seven feature films and contributed to at least two anthologies. After such a prolific streak, it's understandable that the director would take a break of sorts over the last five years. I say “of sorts” because West was directing television during that time. As he made installments of "The Exorcist” and “Scream” shows, I was left wondering when he’d make another feature. Luckily, West has returned in 2022 with not one but two new theatrical releases, with a third film arriving next year. It seems the ever-economic filmmaker must’ve found a good partnership with A24, today’s leading provider of art house horror. The threesome would kick-off last March with “X.” 

In the summer of 1979, an aspiring filmmaker and his cast and crew heads into the Texan countryside to shoot a pornographic movie. Director RJ hopes to make something more artful than mere smut while Maxine – girlfriend to producer Wayne – hopes to become an adult superstar. As a filming location, they have rented a house on the property of an elderly farmer named Howard. The old man is unaware of the movie's subject matter. His reclusive wife, Pearl, seems entranced by Maxine and the cast however. Something inside Pearl has been reawaken by the nubile young bodies of the pornographers: A lust... For murder.

"X's" opening shot is framed by barn doors, suggesting the tight aspect ratio of the 8mm, no-budget porno of the day. This is just the first sign that West, a director always fascinated by the visual and pacing styles of retro filmmaking, is out to accurately recreate his seventies setting. The cast in "X" are gloriously unkempt looking, with body hair and facial imperfections. Sweat is everywhere. Supporting Tyler Bates' excellent score, full of willowy gasps that invoke sexual moans, is a number of era-approprite needle drops. An acoustic cover of “Landslide” is especially well used. The farm house is caked with brilliantly true-to-life dust and clutter, which is just one of many ways "X" invokes "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre." Yet West isn't simply aping a sleazy, seventies look to placate nostalgic horror nerds. "X" is a story about age and desire, which is smartly reflected in its visual adherence to a by-gone cinematic aesthetic. The elderly murderers long for the days of their youth, much the same way the film's very style longs for the horror genre's past.

The contrast in age between the killers and their victims highlights another aspect of “X's” time period. The porno chic era that “X's” heroes hope to capitalize on was a time when people where expressing themselves sexually in an open, fearless way. The film's lead actress, Bobby-Lynne, is sexually voracious and dating her black co-star, Jackson. Lorraine, the production's quiet boom mic operator and RJ's girlfriend, spontaneously decides to have sex on-camera. RJ freaks out about this, threatening to abandon the cast and crew at the farm house, which is just one way “X” speaks to the inevitable backlash to this era of open sexually expressive. Pearl calls Maxine a whore and religious sermons, speaking to the decadence and depravity of the world, play frequently in the background. All throughout the film, there's this suggesting of a shifting cultural landscape. Jackson is a Vietnam veteran, while Howard is a vet of an earlier war, for another example of the changing times – of the past resenting the present – that the movie is about.

Yet West is smart enough to not make the villains simply puritanical gatekeepers, killing young pornographers for violating their moral code. Pearl has a sexual appetite herself, that her husband discourages because of his weak heart. Her murders are partially inspired by the crew, first Maxine and then RJ, rejecting her advances. “X's” psycho-biddy desires the sexually free youngsters as much as she resents them. The camera often lingers on the wrinkly old bodies of Pearl and Howard, in contrast to the tight, toned bodies of the porn actors. These young people have freedoms Pearl's generation never had but they also have something we're all going to run out of someday: Youth. We, as humans, are always eager to hold onto and recapture our younger days, which is why Pearl's hunger for sex (and murder) randomly revitalizes at this point in time. 

The decision to have Mia Goth play both Maxine and Pearl links these two characters in a meaningful way. The dow-eyed Goth plays Maxine as a girl desperate to prove herself, obsessed with becoming a star. Her decision to become a pornographic actress, as well as her habit of sniffing coke throughout, can't help but make us imagine a sad end for her. Meanwhile, there's Pearl, a woman locked in a house in the middle of nowhere. She decorates her bedroom with rotting baby dolls, an audience that can't judge or mock her. Howard says Pearl has had troubles in the past. What happened to this woman to bring her to this point? “X's” final scene gives us more insight into Maxine's past and it becomes clear she's trying to escape repressive circumstances too. These two women, separated by time and space, are both desperate to be wanted, to be touched and validated and loved. 

West cooks these intriguing ideas into a flawlessly executed slasher story. His camera moves sensually over the characters' bodies but also over their camera equipment or, in one scene, a suggestively shaped meal the group is eating. That's just a good example of how tightly shot and cut “X” is. It's murder scenes are suspensefully assembled, a man peering through a peephole being an especially notable moment. There's plenty of style to be had too, when a stabbing scene set to “Don't Fear the Reaper” creates some red-tinted visuals in a clever way. The presence of an alligator in a lake is nicely set-up in a dreamy earlier scene but still catches the viewer off-guard later. Like all quality slashers, tension rises as the cast is cleaved through and the audience comes to cheer for a heroine fighting off her attackers. A cow gutted on the open early on foreshadows an eventual fate while also presenting the film's dark, sensual fixation on the flesh. 

“X” can only be considered a proud return to the screen for Ti West. The deliberate, mumblecore-influenced style of his earlier movies has grown into something more polished and cinematic. He knows how to deliver on the crowd-pleasing elements slasher fans crave but hasn't lost his ability to generate the specific ambiance he specialized in. The film is brilliantly assembled, in terms of direction and production values, while digging at deeper ideas in a way that doesn't spoon-feed the audience. It's a damn fine slasher flick and a lot more, that excels at tickling the lizard brain while providing us with plenty to think about and wraps it all in some spectacular style. [9/10]

Mysterious Island (1961)

Jules Verne was a groundbreaking innovator that helped birth the science fiction genre as we know it. He also wasn't above paying homage to his influences. In 1867, he would write “In Search of the Castaways,” his take on the deserted island premise that was widely influenced by “Robinson Crusoe.” In 1870, Verne would write “The Mysterious Island,” which functioned as both a sequel to “Search of the Castaways” and “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.” It was also another take on a story about castaways stranded on an isolated island. In 1961, Columbia – likely spurned-on by the success of Disney's 1954 film version of "Leagues" – would adapt this Verne sequel to silver screens. Ray Harryhausen was then hired to add a bunch of giant animals to it, pushing the film into the realm of sci-fi creature feature.

During the American Civil War, a group of Union soldiers escape a Confederate prisoners-of-war camp. The group, led by Captain Cyrus Harding, leap into a balloon as a storm rages through the area. The five men – which include Spillet, a war reporter, and Pencroft, one of the Confederate guards – are blown far out to sea. They land on a seemingly uncharted island. The features of this mysterious isle includes enormous animals, pirates, and an active volcano. The men manage to survive, even finding a duo of female castaways. They soon discover that Captain Nemo, of the legendary Nautilus, has been observing and assisting them. 

There's a reason why Verne's “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” is regarded as a literary classic while “The Mysterious Island” has been largely forgotten by history. It's not that good of a novel, with a heavily episodic plot that is littered with cheap deus ex machinas. Unfortunately, Cy Endfield's film adaptation decides to largely maintain that structure. In the book, it's eventually revealed that the items that castaways need keep washing up on the beach because Captain Nemo has been secretly helping them. In the movie, this is just implied and still doesn't explain why a pair of comely English ladies wash up too. The movie has a shaggy pacing, navigating from one incident to the next. Whether it be pirates, oversized critters, and a volcanic eruption, “Mysterious Island' simply limps from one set-piece to the next, without ever building much in the way of momentum.

“Mysterious Island” probably proves duller than expected because its cast never quite rises to the level of compelling. Michael Craig's Captain Harding is a standard, cocksure hero type. Michael Callan costars as Herbert, the younger officer who has to prove himself. It's a mildly compelling arc that is abruptly abandoned midway through the film. English actor Percy Herbert plays the confederate soldier, boasting an extremely strange attempt at a Southern accent. Of the women, Beth Rogan makes the biggest impression largely because she spends most of the movie in a home-made miniskirt. The film perks up considerably once Herbert Lom, as a studied and serious Captain Nemo, enters the story. Yet far too much of “Mysterious Island” is devoted to following an underwhelming cast playing forgettable characters.

If all of this is true, why is “Mysterious Island” regarded by some aging monster kids as a classic? It's entirely thanks to Ray Harryhausen's stop motion creature effects. The film completely comes to life any time Harryhausen's miraculous work takes center stage. The sequence involving the giant crab is fantastic fun, the massive crustacean's eyes and jaws twitching as it snaps huge claws at the humans. The way the critter is defeated, and then disposed of, is probably the movie's funniest joke. The screenwriters must've been aware of this, as they repeat that gag with the second huge monster the crew encounters. That's a prehistoric terror-bird, that looks a lot like a giant chicken. Again, it's another vividly animated beast that seamlessly interacts with the human cast. The best Harryhausen creation in the film is actually the giant bee. Its jerking wings and mandibles show an amazing degree of expression. I wish the enormous nautilus shell creature that randomly appears in the film's climax got a little more to do though. 

The best films Harryhausen worked on balanced story, character, and his show-stopping Dynamation effects. Some of them, however, cannot build a compelling plot or cast around the bad-ass monster scenes. “The Mysterious Island” is probably the weakest of the Harryhausen projects I've reviewed thus far. It needed a much sturdier script and far more of Herbert Lom as Captain Nemo to be a real classic. Yet you simply can't overstate how fucking cool Harryhausen's contribution is. Those scenes essentially save the movie and briefly take a film that probably would've been totally tedious and occasionally makes it a highly entertaining motion picture. [6/10]

One Step Beyond: The Death Waltz

“One Step Beyond” distinguished itself from other anthology shows by claiming its fantastical tales were true stories. Even when they were obviously myths that had circulated far and wide. This is certainly the case with “The Death Waltz.” The episode is set during the Apache Wars of the 1860s. It follows Lillie, a vain general's daughter who enjoys toying with men's hearts. A young lieutenant named Eustace is hopelessly in love with her but Lillie prefers the more handsome Lieutenant Buchanan. Eustace leaves suddenly in the middle of the night at Lillie's urging, assuring her he'd march through Hell to return. He dies in an ambush. At a ball, soon afterwards, Lillie is happy to dance with Buchanan... And is stunned when Eustace appears.

The urban legend being adapted in “The Death Waltz” is more commonly known as the Dancing Devil story. In most tellings of the tale, the dashing beau that sweeps the maiden off her feet is revealed to be the devil himself when everyone notices his cloven hooves. The demon is then chased off, sometimes taking someone's soul with him. I guess the traditional story was deemed either too demonic or not suitably ironic for “One Step Beyond.” Instead, it becomes a ghost story of karmic revenge. Lillie thinks she can manipulate men however she wants but supernatural justice is visited upon her. The episode adds a decent layer of spookiness to its telling. Eustace's return is foreshadowed by his voice echoing through the night at Lillie. The final waltz, foretold in the title, is dramatically pulled off. 

“The Death Waltz” is probably most notable for being a pre-”Bewitched” starring role for Elizabeth Montgomery. It's definitely amusing to see “Bewitched's” Samantha playing a cold-hearted seductress who gleefully manipulates men. She's certainly the exact kind of character you like to see get punished for her crimes. It's a sturdy bit of ghostly fun, if largely undistinguished. The more of “One Step Beyond” I watch, the more I realize why it never really caught on. Host John Newman is always stone-faced and slightly sentimental, which compares negatively to the philosophical intoning of Rod Serling or the glib gallows humor of Alfred Hitchcock. Still, “The Death Waltz” is reasonable entertaining for fans of urban legends who can tolerate stodgy old TV. [7/10]

The Munsters: A Walk on the Mild Side / Rock-A-Bye Munster

In “A Walk on the Mild Side,” Herman is stressed because Grandpa's experiments – an attempt to build an enlarging ray – are raising the household electrical bills. He goes for walks in the park at night to clear his mind before bed. When he's spotted by people, at the same time a mugger is attacking women, the police become concerned a fiendish monster is stalking the park. In “Rock-A-Bye Munster,” Herman and Grandpa eavesdrop on Lily and Marilyn while discussing babysitting the family doctor's child. The men misinterpret the conversation as meaning Lily is pregnant again. Lily also plans to buy Herman a car for his birthday, further confusing her husband with talks of an incoming surprise.

“A Walk on the Mild Side” balances some the central joke of the series with some delightfully goofy sight-gags. Obviously, Herman doesn't realize he's the monster in the park everyone is talking about. In fact, he dismisses a belief in monsters all together. When attacked by the police, he believes that's the mysterious beast, leading to an amusingly oversized reaction. Another moment, when Grandpa is working on his machine, causes the household objects to go berserk. That's the silliest scene in the episode and the one that got the biggest laugh from me. The police subplot features some good, goofy stuff – such as the police chief's habits with his pet bird or a loose ceiling tile – but concludes with an unfortunate cross-dressing joke. The plot wraps up in a nicely satisfying manner, even if the B-plot about Grandpa's growth ray never quite pays off.

While the third episode is more about the Munsters reacting with normal people, “Rock-A-Bye Munster” focuses entirely on interaction within the family. The episode gets a lot of mileage out of the ever-fruitful comedic device of a conversation with two meanings. Herman's baffled reactions to Lily's matter-of-fact statements, when he believes she's talking about their incoming child, makes for some wonderful laughs. The plot threads weave together nicely in the final act, where Herman mistakes the other boy's toy for his new child. Honestly, I'm impressed by how structurally sound the scripts for this old, goofy sitcom can be. There's also a very silly guest appearance from Paul Lynde, as the near-sighted doctor, and the episode concludes by introducing the beloved Munsters Koach. Cause what's a pop-art sixties TV show without a cool car? [A Walk on the Mild Side: 7/10 / Rock-A-Bye Munster: 7/10]

Halloween 2022: September 28th

The Sacrament  (2013)

The mumblecore style and the found footage phenomenon both started to peak around the same time, making cross pollination inevitable. Both formats, after all, prioritized improvisation and handheld camerawork to capture a sense of realism. The “V/H/S” series did a lot to further the connection, as well as establishing Adam Wingard and Ti West as the biggest names in this “mumblegore” crossover. West's first feature after participating in “V/H/S” was “The Sacrament,” which seemed to be another found footage project at first. The film, which featured a prominent producer credit from Eli Roth, is better described as a mockumentary, keeping some of the trademarks of the found footage style while discarding others. While “The Sacrament” was positioned as the movie that would take West out of the indie scene and into the mainstream, it instead proved harder to sell than that because of its disturbing subject matter. Ya see, “The Sacrament” is heavily inspired by the Jonestown Massacre. 

Sam, a reporter from Vice, is interviewing a New York fashion photographer named Patrick when he lets it slip that his sister is living in a cult. Eden Parish is a supposedly utopian community out in the backwoods of Mississippi, run by an enigmatic religious leader known only as Father. Sam and his cameraman, Jake, decide to investigate. Immediately, they sense something is wrong, as guards with guns greet them at the gates of the commune. Patrick's sister and everyone else insists everything is great at Eden Parish but Father is defensive when questioned. Soon, Sam and Jake learn why: Horrible abuse is happening there. When a whole crowd of people want to leave the next morning with the reporters, threatening to expose what is going on, Father gives a ghastly order to everyone in the entire cult.

The thought process behind “The Sacrament” seems to be to drop a camera into Jonestown in the hours leading up to and during the horrible day. The film is an often harrowing recreation of that real life tragedy. We see the panic and fear in the citizens of the parish, and the enforcers of the cult leader, as things grow graver. Once the mass suicide order is given, “The Sacrament” becomes a highly uncomfortable watch. Adults and children drink Flavor Aid laced with cyanide. Mothers reluctantly allow their infant children to be injected with the poison. The camera watches unflinchingly as people spasm and die, foam bubbling from their mouths. Those that attempt to flee are gunned down in cold blood. It's stark and horrifying, over a hundred innocent people having their lives ended to satisfy the warped justice of a man gone mad with power. (“The Sacrament” specifies that 179 die in its fictionalized massacre, a fraction of the 918 people who actually died at Jonestown.)

As disturbing as “The Sacrament” is, one really has to question the intentions behind making the movie. The film is not a proper fictionalization of the real events. Jim Jones, his cult, nor any of the real people involved are ever named or mentioned. Why make a movie so clearly about Jonestown, that sets out to accurately recreate the deaths of countless people, without mentioning the true events? What makes this approach even more discomforting is that “The Sacrament” often operates like a standard horror film at times. A woman setting herself on fire, or the cameraman hiding from a shooter, are designed like standard horror movie shocks. This unpleasant disconnect is most obvious in a scene where a mother kills her own daughter, to spare her being murdered by the faithful cult members. Trying to mine scares from such awful real events is tasteless and disrespectful. Pretending that the movie isn't based on actual people who lived, died, and were murdered doesn't really make it any less so.

The movie makes me wonder why it exists. Yet, if nothing else, “The Sacrament” does a good job of showing how cults work. Patrick's sister is a recovering drug addict. Many other residents of the community are as well. Those that aren't former addicts are disenfranchised from society for other reasons, whether they be elderly or racially persecuted. The message of unity and hope that “Father” preaches gives them the structure and support they need to improve their lives... At the cost of making them dependent on someone else, who insists on a strict system that revolves around praising him and demonizing the outside world. When that power – which also allows the cult leader to indulge the earthly pleasures he decries – is threatened, that's when Father gives the kill order. It must also be said that Gene Jones gives a compelling performance as Jones stand-in, a man who is clearly charismatic but still an intimidating presence. 

“The Sacrament” succeeds at being disturbing but at what cost? I have no problem with a movie basing itself on tragic true events. I'm not even necessarily offended by a genre picture exploiting real life horror for shock value or publicity. Yet “The Sacrament” does not successfully tow this line. Its tone is too grim for cheap thrills but it goes for them anyway. The result can only make me feel uncomfortable, no matter how good the intentions behind it might've been. I'm also bugged that West seems noncommittal to the documentary premise, the score and multiple camera angles disrupting the realism he's otherwise striving for. I think the director should've just made a straight ahead drama about Jonestown, instead of attempting to squeeze this story of historical terror into a conventional genre mold. You can't deny that "The Sacrament" unnerves the audience but it ultimately doesn't sit right with me at all. [6/10]

The Shock (1923)

In cinematic history, Lon Chaney will always be recognized as the first American horror star... Yet that statement always comes with a big asterisk. While “Phantom of the Opera” and “London After Midnight” unquestionably belong to the macabre, horror as we know it today hadn't really solidified into its recognized form by the 1920s. Chaney was a major star during the silent era, which meant the majority of the films he headlined belonged to the most popular genre of the day: The melodrama. The effect this has is, when navigating through Chaney's filmography for stuff to include in these Halloween marathons, I often end up delving into films that barely classify as horror. All of this is a disclaimer for me reviewing “The Shock,” a 1923 silent feature that is 99% melodrama and 1% horror.

Chaney stars as Wilse Dilling, a crippled enforcer working for Chinatown-based mob boss, Ann Cardington. Cardington is the former lover of banker Hadley, who operates out of the small suburban town of Fallbrook. Cardington has engineered an elaborate revenge scheme against Hadley, which involves sending Wilse to spy on his daughter, Gertrude. Wilse quickly falls for Gertrude and finds his hardened heart softening after living in the peaceful town. Having experienced a change of heart, Wilse decides to protect Gertrude's father. Ann's desire for revenge remains and it all comes to a head during the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. 

As the child of deaf parents, Lon Chaney must've related to people with disabilities. He played deformed or disadvantaged so often throughout his career. “The Shock” is yet another example, as Chaney spends the entire movie hobbling around on crutches or using a wheelchair. Since the 1920s were a less enlightened time, twisted bodies usually represented twisted minds. As far as physical frailties go, Wilse's limping gait ranks far below the usual Chaney contortions. This might be why the character is one of the few virtuous cripples the actor played. By the end of the film, Wilse's criminal instincts have totally fallen away and his disability is miraculously healed. (This is directly equated with him embracing the good Christian religion Gertrude encourages.) If this wasn't politically incorrect enough, the film also depicts Chinatown as nothing but a den of sin and crime.

Outdated cultural ideas come with the territory, when you're watching a movie that's nearly a century old. Also to be expected is a degree of contrived histrionics. Yes, there's a love triangle or two. Gertrude is already engaged to another man when Wilse develops feelings for her. The entanglements involving Queen Ann's vengeful plan, not to mention the subplot about banking, only grow more convoluted as the movie goes on. “The Shock's” melodramatic nature peaks during its climax. Wilse prayers to God to intervene, which is when the earthquake occurs and defeats the villains. Yes, a major disaster is depicted as being a divine act, that is also used to represents the formerly criminal protagonist completely turning over a new leaf. But at least the earthquake effects are neat to look at.

Not matter how overheated “The Shock” gets, Lon Chaney is always there to hold it together. As always, nobody excelled at playing these scheming but pathetic wretches like him. The scene where Gertrude introduces Wilse to her fiancée, Chaney manages to express the man's heart breaking and him coming to accept the situation with just a subtle shift of his face. The moment immediately following, where he grabs her boyfriend's arm and tells him that he better not hurt Gertrude, is oddly touching but also Chaney's most malevolent moment in “The Shock.” Lon is so good that you even forgive the film for completely skipping over Wilse going from a heartless baddie to a nice guy. This occurs during a title card, the mere act of moving out of the city and into the suburbs apparently being enough to change his entire disposition. 

As for “The Shock's” minimal horror content, it's isolated entirely to Chaney's mild deformity and some haunted house-style secret passageways in Queen Ann's lair. Otherwise, this one resides solely within the realm of the melodrama. It's not a particularly good one either. However, Chaney's performance, ever powerful, and the sweet romance he shares with his costar does make the movie worth watching. By the way, this was a Universal picture – one of their Universal Jewels presentations – but to consider this part of the legacy of Universal monster movies seems like a stretch. Maybe I'll get luckier next year when selecting a spooky Lon Chaney flick to watch. [6/10]

Alfred Hitchcock Presents: The Case of Mr. Pelham

When looking up episodes of “Alfred Hitchcock Presents,” the ones directed by Hitch himself naturally draw the most attention. Among the most critically acclaimed of this lot is “The Case of Mr. Pelham,” from the series' very first season. The titular character is Albert Pelham, a successful businessman. He runs into a psychologist friend at a bar and relates to him a creeping paranoia he's having. Over the last few weeks, it's become apparent a doppelganger of Mr. Pelham exists. He slowly seems to be infiltrating into Albert's life. He grows increasingly paranoid and unsound, trying to dissuade this double at every turn and always finding himself outmatched. It's only a matter of time before the man and his copy come face-to-face.

“The Case of Mr. Pelham” is one of the few “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” episodes that floats into the realm of supernatural horror. The story certainly teases with the idea that Mr. Pelham is having a psychological break of some sort, imagining everything or developing a split personality. Yet, as the episode goes on, it becomes clear that there really is a doppelganger. His butler and co-workers have seen him, believing the copy to be the genuine article. When facing down the double, Albert asks him what power he serves, seemingly confirming the otherworldly connotations. The episode is perfectly paced, slowly escalating the invasion of Pelham's personal life by this duplicate, until he's infiltrating his most intimate inner circle. The copy is undefeated at every angle, Mr. Pelham's attempts to distinguish himself only making him look like the fake.

What makes this idea so scary isn't that the doppelganger simply exists. It's that he's better at Pelham's own life than he is. The perfect copy is better at his job, more popular with his friends, and eventually becomes more successful. That's an existentially terrifying premise. That someone else could easily slip into your own life, take it over, and overcome all of your weaknesses feels utterly nightmarish. Tom Ewell's increasingly panicked performance conveys that feeling excellently. “The Case of Mr. Pelham's” ends on a distressingly ironic moment, that seals the ambiance of a bad dream. Hitchcock's typically sardonic host segments bemoan the lack of murder in this episode but that doesn't stop it from being a nicely chilling experience. [8/10]

The Munsters: Monster Masquerade / My Fair Munster

Popular opinion seems compelled to forever compare “The Addams Family” and “The Munsters.” Both aired at the same time. Both only ran for two seasons but became so popular in syndication, that numerous spin-offs and revivals followed in the decades since. While the general consensus is “The Addams Family” is the funnier, sharper show, I've always preferred “The Munsters.” Maybe it's just because I'm partial to the Universal Monsters, the inspiration for Herman and his brood. Maybe I just prefer dumb-ass gags over more biting observations about polite society. Maybe it was the kick-ass surf rock theme song. I'll probably have to review both shows in their entirety some day but “The Munsters” was always destined to be first. 

“Monster Masquerade” establishes many of the show's running gags. Marilyn, the normal looking niece of the family, has caught the eye of a guy named Tom. In hopes of winning her favor, he invites her entire family to a masquerade party run by his rich parents. Herman, Lily, and Grandpa end up getting into shenanigans at the party. Lily's love life helps drive the second episode's plot too. In “My Fair Munster,” Grandpa invents an attraction potion to help Marilyn's dating prospects but accidentally doses the family breakfast with it instead. This ends up making Herman and Lily irresistible, attracting the attention of the mailman and the stuck-up lady next door. 

“The Munsters” can never be called sophisticated humor because the entire series revolves around one joke: This family of monsters think they are perfectly normal, wholesome folks, while everyone reacts to their macabre habits with shock and fright. “Monster Masquerade” certainly has its share of gags like that. Such as the B-plot, in which the elderly neighbor lady babysits Eddie and is confused by the haunted mansion abode and the boy's howling. The A-plot features Herman accidentally insulting the boy's father by complementing his costume – a Frankenstein get-up – and later shattering a mirror with his true face. “My Fair Munster” double-down on this, with jokes about Eddie's werewolf doll, the boy hanging out in the fireplace, Grandpa playing checkers with a ghost, or Lily making oatmeal in a witch's cauldron. 

I'm a sucker for hoary old gags like these. Yet what makes this show really delightful is the cast. Fred Gwynne's Herman is a lovable goof, who responds with genuine baffled confusion to the normal people's reactions. Al Lewis' Grandpa is gloriously silly, hamming it up when working on potions in “Monster Masquerade” or performing spells in “My Fair Munster.” It's already clear that these performer had perfect comedic timing. Gwynne's reaction to a drink being poured into his suit of armor costume in the first episode, or how he tiptoes through the hallway in the second, get laughs. Yvonne De Carlo's straight-woman status, and way with a simple line like discouraging Grandpa's “smoking,” can also not be undervalued to the series' success. I'm also obviously partial to the set design, as 1313 Mockingbird Lane is clearly the kind of home I wouldn't mind living in. Or at least hanging out in for a while.

Of these first two episodes, “Munster Masquerade” is definitely the funnier. The costume party premise allows the cast to riff on the material more, even if it lead to the inevitable bits about people getting scared. “My Fair Munster” devotes much more time to the bewitched normies – which notably includes John Fiedler, the voice of Piglet himself, as the mailman – chasing the Munsters. The extended chase scene, which involves a lot of sped-up footage and jokes about the spooky house's secret passageways, gets a little too wacky. Yet there are even laughs here, especially in how Fiedler exits the home or the goofy one-liner from Herman that wraps up the show. I have no idea if this strain of silliness will ware out its welcome by the time I've finished mainlining the first season but I'm enjoying it so far. [Munster Masquerade: 7/10 / My Fair Munster: 6/10]

Halloween 2022: September 27th

Trigger Man (2007)

Quite a few years back, for reasons that surely must’ve seemed important, I embarked on a time-consuming project. I looked up as many movies, TV shows, books, or other works of fiction set in every American state. At the time, I was thinking maybe I could make some sort of book out of this long, long list. What I mostly learned from this project is that lots of stories are set in California and New York… But other states are less popular. South Dakota and Wyoming are not often utilized, for two examples. On the east coast, Delaware is probably the state with the fewest cinematic stories. Maybe that's because it's the seventh-least populous state, best known for its shitty corporate tax laws. When you look up Delawarean movies, you're mostly going to find the last act of "Fight Club" and a great gag from "Wayne's World." If you dig a little deeper, you'll discover "Trigger Man." Ti West's second feature, he wrote it to take place in his home city of Wilmington. 

Three friends gather for the first time in a long time, piling into a van and heading into the Delaware woods for a hunting trip. Reggie is looking to get away from a clingy girlfriend, Ray wants to do some day-drinking, while Sean seems determined to successfully shoot a deer. After spending most of the day fruitlessly walking through the forest, the trio decide to cut loose and relax... That's when a bullet rips through the silence of the trees, striking one of the men dead. The boys are being relentlessly pursued by an unseen sniper, who is looking to hunt humans, not beasts. A fight for survival ensues, until only one man survives.

In “The Roost,” Ti West managed to turn vaguely defined characters, a simplistic story, and a runtime without much action into a successfully atmospheric film. He pushes this style even further in “Trigger Man.” The film further embraces the mumblecore aesthetic. All the characters share their actors' names. We never learn much about any of them, their lives not existing much outside the screen time we share with them.. Shaky, handheld camera work that includes a lot of rough, digital zooms is common. Most pressingly, “Trigger Man's” first half is extremely deliberately paced. That is to say: It's really slow and almost nothing happens. It's not unfair to say that a good portion of this movie is devoted to guys literally just wandering around the woods, not doing much.

As tedious as “Trigger Man” can get, the overwhelming slowness actually does serve a purpose. After about a half-hour of these dudes shooting the shit and being bored in the forest, one of them steps out to a take a whiz. And then his head explodes. It's a shocking act of violence, catching the audience off-guard as much as it does the characters. “Trigger Man” successfully lulled us into a sleepy state, leaving us unprepared for the sniper attacks. From there, “Trigger Man” is a non-stop barrage of tension. The frenzied direction becomes an asset, capturing the panic the heroes are feeling. Somehow, West pulls off the same trick each time, each murder being a shocking, violent incident. The climax is a tense shoot-out, as the last man standing finally identifies the person who has been killing his friends. 

When looked at from these perspectives, it's easy to consider “Trigger Man” as nothing but a technical exercise. West wanted to see how far he could push the audience's patience before rocketing in the opposite direction. He hoped a quivering musical score and ambient forest noise would be enough to create tension, before everything goes crazy. And once the gun fight is over, the movie ends abruptly. Yet I can't help but wonder if there's more to this one. Before the three guys leave the city, Ray makes a casually racist comment about a Middle-Eastern bodega owner. These three guys head into the woods with high-powered rifles, looking to get drunk and also kill something. If that wasn't irresponsible enough, only one of the men clearly has any experience with firearms. The largely unseen sniper, meanwhile, is obviously an expert and maybe a veteran. While it never solidifies into a concrete point, post-9/11 anxieties about guns, toxic bros, and the military are floating around inside this movie. (To further support this theory, the script claims to be inspired by true events. Likely a reference to the sniper sprees this country has faced in the last two decades.)

It seems “Trigger Man” is among Ti West's most divisive movies. Many viewers dismiss the movie for its laborious pace, lack of action, and unpolished visuals. I agree that these elements are a problem. However, I did find the second half effective. It's clear that West's interest in building a painfully mundane atmosphere is sometimes at odds with his ability to create suspenseful shock scenes. Even at only an hour and twenty, the movie could've been improved by trimming ten minutes or so. When it works, it works. When it doesn't, it's uncomfortably slow. West would master this balance in “House of the Devil” and “The Innkeepers.” It probably took finding the bumps in the road with “Trigger Man” to figure that out. [6/10]

Fear (1917)

Furcht

Conrad Veidt's status as a horror icon is unquestionable. His roles in “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” and “The Man Who Laughs” loom large over cinema history, their influences felt across pop culture. Unfortunately, owing to age and World War II, many of Veidt's horror flicks are probably lost forever. “The Janus Head,” the adaptation of “Jekyll and Hyde” he starred in for F.W. Murnau, is the most sought-after of these titles. Yet there's also the 1920 adaptation of “The Count of Cagliostro,” Veidt's directorial debut “Madness,” and the depraved sounding “Figures in the Night.” Sometimes something turns up though. Two years before making “Caligari,” director Robert Wiene and Veidt would collaborate on “Fear.” The only complete print is kept by the Swedish Film Institute. Luckily, a mostly intact copy circulates as a bootleg. It's right there on Youtube for anyone to watch. 

Count Greven returns to his mansion after years abroad with a new piece for his art collection: A priceless statue of Buddha that he stole from a temple in India. The Count is gripped with suspicion surrounding the statue, fearful that the Indians will hunt him down and punish him for this theft. After weeks of paranoid terror, a Buddhist priest does arrive on the castle grounds. He places a curse on Greven, saying he'll die seven years to the day from now at the hands of the person he most loves.  Determined to make the best of the time he has left, the Count spends the next few years throwing parties, seeking fame, and falling in love. Yet the fear of the statue's curse is never far from his mind.

I went into “Fear” assuming its title referred to xenophobic anxieties about other culture. The time and the place it was made, and the fact Conrad Veidt appears in brownface as the Buddhist priest, gave me this idea. While there's some racist undercurrents in the film, "Fear" is much more about guilt.  The Indian priest is portrayed as the reasonable figure, while the Count is the unhinged one. By the time the priest arrives at the castle, Greven is already begging for the sweet release of death. He knows what he did is wrong and expects reprisal. It drives him into a total state of mania. “Fear” eventually does feature some supernatural elements but I was fully expecting it to be a film about a man driven totally nuts, to the point of suicide, by his guilty conscience. I guess even Germans at the end of the 1910s feared the shadows of their mind more than other cultures.

“Fear” has a lot of interesting ideas, even within the widely available, abbreviated hour-long cut. After the death curse is placed on him, the Count decides he's going to make the next seven years count. He gambles and drinks until the daybreak, his castle constantly full of partying. Yet this soon proves unsatisfying, so he instead seeks fame via creating a cure for world hunger. He succeeds, attracts massive amounts of attention, and then smashes the potion in front of everyone. Finally, the Count decides finding love with a pure maiden will bring him satisfaction. All of these scenarios raise the question of what, exactly, makes a life worth living. Is a lifetime of hedonism how you live life to the fullest? Or is changing the world or experiencing love with another person the greatest goals we can aspire to? These are big questions to ask and they add considerably depth to “Fear.”

I'll admit, I love these old German horror movies because I'm fascinated with their surreal, expressionistic visuals. Wiene would define the look of Expressionism two years after “Fear” with “Caligari.” Meaning we weren't there yet. There's a phenomenal sequence of the Count moving through a dark staircase, the light from a candle casting a halo through the blackness. Near the image, Veidt's starring eyes are imposed over the statue. Mostly though, “Fear's” images are more realistic than not. Instead, its expressionistic approach is most evident in the acting. Bruno Decarli goes so gloriously over-the-top as the Count. Nearly the entire movie is devoted to him gesticulating wildly, eyes wide and crazed as his hands grasp at the air. It's an impressive display of theatricality, doing a good job of conveying how totally nuts this guy is. It's not subtle or realistic but it's glorious to watch. 

The print of “Fear” circulating online is in poor condition. It's obviously sourced from a VHS tape, as there are scan lines and static throughout. The images are murky and blurred. The title cards are written with a very ugly, digital font and include several typos. The score is mostly the same two classical compositions, including “Night on Bald Mountain,” blaring over everything regardless of what's happening on-screen. Despite this less-than-ideal presentation, I still found myself loving “Fear.” It's campy performances are a joy to behold. It tangos with some surprisingly deep ideas. That sense of creaky creepiness that I love so much about vintage cinema is present and accounted for. Hopefully a properly restored version, perhaps working from that complete Swedish print, emerges some day. Even in its compromised state, “Fear” is strong stuff. [8/10]

The Twilight Zone: The Masks

When selecting episodes of “The Twilight Zone” to review, obviously there's a whole list of iconic episodes I could talk about. Yet everyone knows the twist endings of “To Serve Man” or “Time Enough at Last.” That's why my eyes were drawn towards some of the more underrated episodes of the series. Such as “The Masks,” from season five. Jason Foster is a self-made millionaire who is near death. While the city outside celebrates Mardi Gras, he invites his family to one final celebration. Each one attends only because they are eager to claim their slice of his fortune. As a condition of the will, Foster insists everyone wears special masks until after midnight. Each masks reflects the family member's ugliest instincts. After Foster passes on, his heirs discover a horrifying ritual has taken place.

“The Masks” falls into a proud literary tradition of stories about money-grubbing vultures getting what's coming to them. We never learn how Mr. Foster made his fortune, only that he's a good man who is facing death with dignity. His family members, meanwhile, are all cartoonishly awful people. There's the hypochondriac daughter, the idiot grandson, the greedy son-in-law, so on and so forth. When Foster presents each one of them with their masks, he says the grotesque masks represent the opposite of their personalities... But he's actually accurately describing each of their principal flaws. Forced to sulk around a mansion in ugly masks, while the city parties outside and they wait for an old man to die, would probably be humiliation enough in real life. This is the old man's last chance to tell his terrible children exactly what he thinks of each of them.

Yet Rob Serling's intoning narration assures us we are in “The Twilight Zone,” so “The Masks” must have a suitably ironic, supernatural twist. As was often the case with Serling, there's a moral here too. Foster's heirs all pretend to be good people, despite their avarice and selfishness. By the end, they will no longer be able to hide their inner rottenness behind a mask of civility. Thus, the literal masks end up stripping away the metaphorical masks each one wears. The psychic becomes the physical and Foster's skull mask, when removed, reveals his true self too: A dead man. “The Masks” is a nicely delivered morality tale, with strong performances and some intimate direction from actress-turned-director Ida Lupino. (The only woman to direct an episode of “Zone.”) [7/10]

Chucky: An Affair to Dismember

In the season one finale, all the different subplots “Chucky” has been developing come crashing into each other. Andrew Barclay and Kyle quickly close in on the murderous doll but soon find their efforts defeated by a make-shift bomb. Having successfully convinced Junior to become a murderer, Chucky can activate a new voodoo ritual: One that transports shards of his soul into a small army of Good Guy dolls. Jennifer Tilly/Tiffany engineers a plot to ship these dolls all over the country. Meanwhile, at a charity screening of “Frankenstein,” Chucky goes on a rampage. Jake, Devon, and Lexy will confront the killer plaything and his disciple there.

This is what season finales of these shows are always like: A whole mess of storylines abruptly brought to some sort of conclusion. The insertion of a massive bomb into this plot really does seem like an excuse to leave a whole bunch of characters' fates up in the air. We have big dramatic confrontations between heroes and villains, alongside lots of climatic carnage. Some of this stuff is compelling. Jake's final confrontation with Chucky is fairly satisfying. Some of it comes off as merely more contrivances. Jake and Lexy being drugged by Kyle and taken out of the plot for a while is really an awkward bit of writing. The subplot involving Lexy and Caroline's greedy mayor mom simply comes to an abrupt ending, that is far from a gratifying payoff. 

Much like the later entries in the film series, “Chucky” works best when it focuses on the dysfunctional relationships between the murderers. Chucky the doll, Chucky inside Nica's body, and Tiffany/Jennifer Tilly have become a bizarre love triangle. Watching these three bicker among themselves is a source of a lot of dark comedy. So is Chucky dictating rules to his army of duplicates, who have many questions and clarifications. As always, Brad Dourif's sneering, sardonic voice work goes a long way to making these interactions hilarious. If the “Chucky” TV show was simply all about the in-fighting and bloodthirsty comedy between the family of homicidal dolls, I probably would've liked it more.

It's not that I don't care about the show's young heroes. Jake and Devon's queer romance continues to be adorable. Their reunion here is a sweet little moment. Alyvia Alyn Lind has managed to take Lexy from a mean girl stereotype to a more complex, likable character. Her confrontation with Junior, torn between his love for his girlfriend and his loyalty to his murderous plastic mentor, provides a decent moment. Season one's themes come into sharp focus here. Recalling the original “Child's Play,” Chucky's scheme is ultimately to corrupt something innocence. The teens he tried to influence ultimately choose to go their own path, suggesting all of us can resist temptation and rise above our struggles. That's nice. 

Maybe I'm thinking too hard about it. “An Affair to Dismember” draws some fun parallels between the action on-screen and “Frankenstein,” which plays throughout the background. Chucky's rampage through the movie theater is reasonably intense. The episode really delights in destroying the evil doll in various ways. Various Chuckies get gorily decapitated, blown up, and strangled until his eyeballs pop out. All of that is fun. Yet I can't help but be frustrated by the way these serialized genre dramas toss in a bunch of bullshit, with no plans for it to ever really go anywhere. I loved seeing Fioan Dourif as Nica again but, really, what did she contribute to the story? Was Lexy's bitchy mayor mother anything but a plot device? Did we have to waste time with characters that just ended up dying? Or ultimately directionless digressions, like the fate of Jake's biology teacher? 

It's totally expected that this finale also leaves a number of plot threads dangling, for season two – coming soon! – to pick up on. Season one of “Chucky” definitely had its highlights. Yet I think you could've cut out all the bullshit and told this same story in a pretty good two hour movie. But that's what I think about most TV shows. [6/10]