Halloween 2023: October 27th

Angel Heart (1987)

Crossover between horror and the film noir genres was almost inevitable. After all, it's right there in the name. Noir explores the darker sides of human instincts, similar to how horror is devoted to the macabre and grotesque. Even in the genre's hay day, films that straddled the line between both definitions existed. Yet maybe the most acclaimed horror/noir would arrive long after the golden age. Alan Parker's "Angel Heart" would generate controversy in 1987, the presence of at-the-time squeaky clean sitcom star Lisa Bonet in a graphic sex scene receiving a lot of undue attention. In the decades since, the movie would be appreciated more on its own merits, some even ranking it among the best horror movies made. 

In 1955, New York private detective Harry Angel is hired by the mysterious, sinister Louis Cyphre. Cyphre is seeking crooner Johnny Favourite, who supposedly owes him something. Angel uncovers that Favourite disappeared after the war, vanishing under mysterious circumstances from a mental hospital following extensive surgery. The path soon leads Angel to the New Orleans bayou, where he's embroiled in a world of black magic and voodoo. Violent, ritualistic deaths begin to follow Angel around. The closer he gets to locating Favourite, the more Harry begins to question his own past. 

A lot like the horror film, noir is a genre with tropes often explored and subverted. Harry Angel is an archetypal, filmic P.I. in a lot of ways. He's a hard-boiled detective, who's smooth with the ladies and motivated by money, but quickly finds himself in over his head. The way he's constantly getting attacked and beaten up in the second half of the film almost feels like a deliberate parody of the noir detective character type. "Angel Heart" has its femme fatales, family secrets, and conniving crime bosses too. Yet the film's mixture of black magic and mystery points towards something even darker. "Angel Heart" sees its protagonist descending further into the darkness of his own shadowy past as he comes closer to uncovering the truth. The film's primary twist is not too hard to guess. Yet watching Angel put the clues together, his own sanity cracking up as the bloody facts present themselves, is a captivating ride into the darkness of the mind, clouded with forbidden desires and unspeakable secrets. 

To achieve this effect, Parker creates a suitably ominous ambiance. "Angel Heart" operates as a seemingly straightforward detective story for its first half. Yet there's an eeriness from the first frame, present in Michael Seresin's cinematography and Trevor Jones' score. From the opening shot of stray cats lingering in an alley way, to the reoccurring motif of Angel descending through a rickety elevator, “Angel Heart” has an unsettling energy throughout. As the film goes on, this only increasing. Through multiple nightmare sequences, which carry the visual language of a vision induced by a religious frenzy, “Angel Heart” creates more unsettling images. The scenes of violence are especially intense, bloody moments imposing on a reality without center. This peaks during the infamous sex scene, where water dripping from the ceiling provides an unsettling pulse to a lovemaking session that quickly turns into an act of bloody, ritual magic. 

“Angel Heart” is based on William Hjortsberg's novel, “Falling Angel,” which is set entirely in New York City. By moving the back half of the story to New Orleans, the film introduces a stronger element of culture class to the story. As he searches for Johnny Favourite, he comes across a young woman named Epiphany, who is involved in the local voodoo community. This pushes Angel into a world he's not familiar or comfortable with, further emphasized by his phobia of chickens. (Whose feet are a symbol in voodoo.) The frenzy of voodoo rituals are contrasted with Pentecostal baptisms as well. While on the way to New Orleans, Harry also sits on a segregated bus. It all feeds into this idea of stepping in and out of racial, religious, and maybe even sexual boundaries, as Angel has a manipulative, patronizing relationship with women. As the film winds towards its pitch black conclusion, the idea emerges that “Angel Heart” is a movie about all the things a white man can get away with until he finally get his just desserts. 

Maybe “Angel Heart's” greatest contribution to pop culture, at least from my perspective, is that it's maybe the most prominent example of a Satanic character appearing in human form with a punny name like “Lou Cyphre.” In all seriousness, Robert DeNiro is chilling in the role. His ability to pack as much sinister intent into any line, or an activity as simple as peeling a hardboiled egg, really goes a long way. As Angel, Mickey Rourke is cast exactly to type. Outwardly charming, inwardly pathetic, and perfectly at home in a gritty crime story setting, Rourke is exactly what the part calls for. For all the hubbub that her casting generated, Lisa Bonet does bring the right balance of sensuality and innocence to the role of Epiphany. 

Assuming you don't count “The Wall,” “Angel Heart” would be Alan Parker's sole attempt at horror. Which is a shame, as he clearly showed an aptitude for it. “Angel Heart” has an effectively eerie atmosphere to it, paired with a compelling script and some thoughtful ideas. The performances are strong, the violence is shocking, the sex is steamy, and the cinematography is brilliant. It builds towards a great example how much more than a scrolling list of names an end credits sequence can be. Creepy as a supernatural thriller and gripping as a neo-noir exercise, “Angel Heart” is rightfully regarded as a cult classic of eighties filmmaking. [8/10]

The Man Who Reclaimed His Head (1934)

Of the handful of actors who played monsters in Universal's classic horror films, most went on to careers largely characterized by genre work. Karloff, Lugosi, and Chaney Jr. would all be most remembered for their macabre roles. Yet what of Claude Rains? Rains' break-out performance as “The Invisible Man” would forever link him to the classic horror period. However, Rains would resist being typecast, eventually coming to equal fame for key roles in all-time classics like “Casablanca,” “Lawrence of Arabia,” “Adventures of Robin Hood,” and “Notorious.” Which isn't to say there wasn't an attempt to push Rains as a horror star, especially by Universal. After all, he would also play the Phantom of the Opera and the Wolf Man's dad. You can see the studio trying to mold Rains into a monster star with “The Man Who Reclaimed His Head,” a grim anti-war drama from 1934 that the studio tried to sell as a horror movie. 

In 1915, Paris is besieged by World War I. Writer Paul Verin carries his daughter and a mysterious black bag through the ruined streets, arriving at his attorney's house. That's when the contents of the bag are revealed: A severed human head. Verin then relates the events that led him here: Five years earlier, he lived happily with his wife, Adele. In need of money, Paul is convinced to anonymously provide anti-war articles to aspiring politician Henry Dumont. Paul's words make Dumont a popular candidate. As war looms, Dumont dismisses Verin's philosophies, making deals with weapon manufactures and espousing pro-war views. Dumont gets Paul sent off to the front and attempts to steal his wife. When Paul discovers the deception, he seeks bloody revenge.

To call “The Man Who Reclaimed His Head” a horror film is definitely a stretch, despite the lurid posters Universal's marketing department cooked up. It is, largely, a character driven drama with a heavy anti-war film. However, the movie isn't totally without interest for classic horror aficionado. In addition to starring Rains, Lionel Atwill also appears as Dumont. Considering he's playing the story's villain, one can't help but be reminded of Atwill's various bad guy roles in horror classics. The gruesome prop at the story's center is always kept off-screen, though there's no doubt about what it is. However, the sequence where Rains appears to “reclaim” his head is stylishly directed. Verin appears in the corner of a room, his face bathed in more and more shadows as he approaches the panicking Dumont. The focus remains on the terrified or mad faces as the scene escalates, before climaxing with screams and an exploding window. If the script and direction emphasized Paul's descent into madness and eventual decision to commit violent murder, it would be much easier to justify this one's occasional classification as a horror movie. 

However, that is simply not the movie “The Man Who Reclaimed His Head” is. No, this is staunchly an anti-war drama. Or, rather, a drama about how politicians will say whatever will get them elected. Dumont parrots Verin's anti-war views because it happens to be popular in the early 1910s. However, he's secretly talking with weapon manufactures behind Paul's back. At one point, Dumont even claims that modern weaponry is merciful, as it will make war quicker and death less torturous. Considering audiences in 1934 were well aware of how the Great War played out, the irony in that statement couldn't be more vicious. The minute being pro-war ceases to be popular – or, more accurately, profitable – Dumont abandons these views. Paul is later beaten by a mob after expressing his pacifist viewpoint to a crowd fired up by Dumont's rhetoric. The film's point is not subtle. Politicians who support war are usually motivated by greed. The voters are often blinded by words about patriotism. All are indifferent to the actual death caused by combat. 

This observation was surely relevant in 1934, five years before the start of World War II, and remains potent today. Whatever bluntness the message may have is smoothed over by the strong performances. Rains – an actual veteran, who owed his trademark gravelly voice to a war injury – is unfailingly sincere as Paul. He is uncharacteristically soft-spoken in the role, expressing his opinions with a genuine sense of feeling. When Paul hears Dumont speaking his words, the little smirk Rains cracks is really something. Atwill, meanwhile, is very effective as the utterly feckless Dumont, a spineless politician that is all too recognizable. Joan Bennett is also good as Adele, a woman who deeply loves her husband but has insecurities and frustrations of her own. 

The strong performances largely make up for “The Man Who Reclaimed His Head's” fairly stagey presentation. Most of the movie is made-up of people standing around and talking. Even when it moves to the European Front, the film remains focused on terse conversations and meaningful stares. Unsurprisingly, “The Man Who Reclaimed His Head” began life as a play, which also starred Rains. The play was not successful, so one assumes Rains cashed in a lot of his “Invisible Man” good will to get this adaptation made. The film version was not successful either and one imagines Universal's macabre posters, getting audiences to expect a mad scientist movie, didn't help any. While it's unlikely to satisfy anyone's inner monster kid, “The Man Who Reclaimed His Head” is a well acted and effective, if somewhat mannered, drama. And any movie that features decapitation as a plot point can, if you squint, be suitable October viewing. [6/10]

Bloodride: Ultimate Sacrifice

I don't know if we're in a new golden age for horror anthology shows. However, the format is clearly popular among streaming services. And not just in the English-speaking sphere. “Bloodride” is a Norwegian series that debuted on Netflix in 2020. The debut episode, “Ultimate Sacrifice,” centers on Molly. She's moved into a dilapidated house in the country, at her husband Leon's insistence. She hates the isolation and finds the overly friendly neighbor – who always have their pets with them – unsettling. She soon discovers the secret behind this practice. There's an ancient stone in the woods. If an animal is sacrificed upon the rock, good luck will come to the person who does the killing. Molly quickly seeks to take advantage of this but finds out there's a certain condition tied with its use: How much luck the sacrifice brings is proportional to how much you love what's being sacrificed. 

“Bloodride” lacks a Cryptkeeper style host. Instead, its framing device is a creepy bus, a different passenger exiting the vehicle at the start of each episode and setting up the story. Despite that, “Ultimate Sacrifice” clearly operates under the same sort of twisted morals as those E.C. Comics stories. When Molly is informed of the stone's magical powers by a pair of old ladies in the neighborhood, they tell her not to get too greedy. She, of course, ignores this warning. When a rat only produces a fifty dollar lottery ticket, she decides to kill the family dog. Even this results in a merely four digit monetary win. It's not too hard to predict where this is headed. Or that Molly's willingness to trade flesh-and-blood for cold, hard cash is going to result in a suitably ironic punishment. 

Nevertheless, “Ultimate Sacrifice” is well told. There's an amusingly cockeyed tone established from the minute the weirdo neighbors, with their constantly present animal companions, appear. This odd-ball sense of humor carries through the grimmer scenes of Molly killing animals and her disappointment when it doesn't exactly pay out for her. There's definitely a dark humor in the way Molly is immediately consumed by greed upon hearing about the magic rock. This same morbid comedy is reflected in the ironic ending, which is nicely set up and paid off. The episode is well acted and directed as well, Ine Marie Wilmann striking the right tone as a protagonist relatable enough that you are willing to follow her but also despicable enough that you don't mind seeing the fallout of her choices. It's pretty good and I think I'll be giving “Bloodride” another look. And if you have to ask: Nah, I wouldn't sacrifice any pets of mine. Sorry, I'm too much of a softie when it comes to animals. [7/10]

Great Choice (2017)

The term “analog horror” was coined in 2017 in the Local 58 video, “Station ID.” Showing that parallel inspiration was in the air at the time, a notable non-internet example of the genre would break out the same year. “Great Choice” begins seemingly as a Red Lobster commercial from the nineties, advertising a special on shrimp. A woman orders the thirty shrimp, the waiter tells her she made a great choice, and it's advertised that a kids meal is only 2.99. Afterwards, the commercial begins again, the characters slowly becoming aware of the loop they are trapped in. When the woman refuses to say her line, the increasingly unhinged waiter attacks her. The commercial grows more warped with every repetition, the woman getting increasingly desperate to escape the seafood filled nightmare she has found herself in. 

The aesthetic that so clearly define “analog horror” as a subgenre was surely only beginning to crystalize in 2017. Yet “Great Choice” is such a clear example of it. The film closely imitates a real Red Lobster commercial, accurately recreating the look and feel of this particular piece of discarded pop culture detritus. The VHS scanlines, gritty quality, and static between scenes tickles the nostalgia bones of anybody who grew up in that decade. Yet these comforting clichés are quickly subverted. Disturbing images are briefly glimpsed in the static. The growing confusion and awkwardness among the performers slowly becomes apparent. When the violence breaks out, it's startling and sudden, this gentle commercial begetting a disturbing depiction of domestic abuse. As “Great Choice” goes on, it alternates between VHS quality and clearer definition, the inane commercial prater growing more sinister and distorted. The film's content grows gorier, more intense, and more surreal as it goes on. By the end, “Great Choice” has totally mutated warm VHS calmness into something more unsettling. 

While found footage is probably the most obvious predecessor to analog horror, the subgenre is also heavily influenced by the weird shit Adult Swim would show late at night. “Too Many Cooks” is another important precursor, after all. This was obviously what “Great Choice” was going for, as the film is equal parts horrific and bizarrely funny. The idea of people in a commercial growing increasingly aware of the stiltedness of their scenario is better exploited for humor than horror. The film's bizarre sights – wobbling mannequins and a waiter inexplicably twerking in the background – invoke chuckles as much as they do nightmare logic. The clearest indicator of humor in “Great Choice” is the increasingly garbled commercial narration. Hearing the incessantly chipper ad-speak get weirder and more chopped-up, while the words change to carry a distressing message, couldn't help but make me laugh. The absurd can be used for both chills and chuckles and “Great Choice” clearly understands that. 

Perhaps because “Too Many Cooks” was clearly an evisceration of sitcom nostalgia, “Great Choice” ultimately goes for a different idea. The final scene provides a clearer meaning to what just happened, putting the pointless catchphrases of the commercial in a totally different context. While I'm not sure what exactly we're meant to gather from this, considering the retro commercial setting of most of the short, it does make for a striking ending. “Great Choice” was only viewable at film festivals for years, as director Robin Comisar was worried the real Red Lobster might sue him. Fans of Carrie Coon – who plays the imperiled woman – were eager to uncover the movie and it finally surfaced online last year. I'm glad I got a chance to watch this one, as it's a really well done example of the buzziest type of horror right now. And I'm certainly never going to look at a Red Lobster the same way again. [7/10]