Halloween 2024: September 14th

Rear Window (1954)

If Alfred Hitchcock is among the most influential filmmakers of all time, then "Rear Window" is certainly his most directly emulated classic. "Psycho" and "The Birds" were the points of origins for whole subgenres but "Rear Window" has become a stock plot among many subsequent films and television episodes. I don't know if anyone calls every slasher movie "Psycho at a camp/high school/suburb/etc" or every animals-run-amok movie "The Birds but with rats/a shark/bats..." Nearly every pseudo-remake or rip-off of "Rear Window" is earmarked exactly as what it is. Having its roots as a short story by Cornell Woolrich, the film so succinctly sums up many of Hitchcock's reoccurring themes that it's surely among the most important films ever made as far as auteur theory goes. It's also probably my favorite Hitchcock feature, so it's surprising that I'm only now reviewing it. 

You probably know the plot of "Rear Window" but I'll remind you anyway. Daredevil photographer L.B. Jeffries is laid up in a New York apartment building during a sweltering summer thanks to a broken leg. With little else to pass the time, he's taken up people-watching the residents of the neighboring building. He gives nicknames to each of them, growing interested in their lives. He's especially fascinated by a traveling salesman with a bedridden, nagging wife... A wife who seems to mysteriously vanish. Jeffries becomes increasingly convinced that the man has murdered his wife, attempting to collect evidence from his window perch. Jeff's girlfriend – the glamorous Lisa, who desperately wants to marry the uncertain photographer – thinks he has gone stir-crazy at first. Until she too becomes involved in the mystery, both their lives soon endangered by this voyeuristic obsession. 

The opening credits of "Rear Window" take place before the titular location, the blinds opening up for us. As Jeff spies on his neighbors, the camera often assumes his perspective. The protagonist isn't merely watching these people go about their lives, writing his own stories about them from the brief glimpses he gets. The audience is invited to do the same thing. Hitch and cinematographer Robert Burks also peer through Jeff's camera lens, making it clear that we are watching as much as he is. While Lisa and Stella, Jeff's sarcastic nurse, warn him not to pry into other people's lives, they too are soon drawn to watch as well. We humans can't help but observe other people, as if they were animals in a zoo, and draw our own meanings from what we see. This is, in fact, why going to movies has been such a popular pastime for the last century or so. The way "Rear Window" makes the viewer into as much of a watcher as its nosy hero can't help but make us study our own relationship with cinema. 

This becomes all too evidence once Lars Thorwald, the murderous husband Jeff becomes obsessed with, discovers he's being watched. He looks right at Jeffries, which means he's looking right at us too, breaking the fourth wall and incriminating the audience in this act of voyeurism. More than once, Jeffries retreats from his window for fear of being noticed. He knows spying and peering like this is perverse. Lisa and Stella and his detective friend all point out that he's casually violating other people's privacy, simply to abate his own boredom. Much the same way a cinema goer looks into a screen – something rather like a window itself – to forget about our own troubles for a while. Most would agree it's a little creepy to watch strangers, unaware of being observed, go about their lives... Of course, "Rear Window" was made long before the rise of live streams, social media, and reality TV. We are all voyeurs now, spying on people with little care for the moral implications of such an act. That Hitchcock and his teams of artisans could anticipate this all too human instinct, merely from the popularity of moviegoing, shows how prescient an artist he was. 

Or maybe Hitchcock was a pervert. "Rear Window" is a movie overflowing with horny energy. Among Jeffries' favorite subjects to watch is the comely blonde he calls "Miss Torso," fond of dancing in her underwear in front of her window. A pair of newlyweds also occupy a room across the courtyard, what they're getting up to all too implied by how their blinds are always down. If the idea wasn't clear enough, when Lisa is curled up in Jeff's lap and kissing him passionately, he's quickly distracted by his new hobby. Despite that Lisa is played by Grace Kelly in a parade of glamorous gowns, so gorgeous a halo of light seems to surround her at all times. No hanky-panky is going on in this apartment, much to Lisa's consternation. The script, full of the kind of playful romantic comedy banter that Hitchcock excelled at, says Jeff's reluctance to marry Lisa is due to the difference in their respective lifestyles. And, sure, it is. But maybe it's also because watching has replaced sex – a very big part of marriage, as the insatiable newlyweds demonstrate – for him. 

Most everything we learn about the people Jeffries watches so intently is gleamed from he sees. (And, subsequently, what we see.) The audience never knows more than he does. Which means the exact motive behind Thorwald's murdering his wife is never revealed. We can assume it has to do with their constant bickering. Jeff's assumption, that proves correct by the end, that Lars dismembered his wife's body is constantly brought up. When combined with the movie's all-consuming preoccupation with voyeurism, the specifics of such a lurid crime being lingered on makes it feel like kind of a sex thing too. Raymond Burr as Lars has grey hair and wears tiny glasses, projecting an exterior of mundaneness that can't disguise his massive, intimidating frame. Who knows what exactly he does when out of view of Jeff's spying eyes. This is, it goes without saying, potentially true of all of us. What any of us get up to when our blinds are drawn is hard to say. It's not any of our business but, ya know, we are drawn to wonder. To want to see, to observe. To have all our titillating assumptions confirmed.

The tension inherent in this drive to watch and the unavoidable conclusion that it's wrong to do so is exactly why "Rear Window" is such a compelling thriller. Though Lisa tries to dissuade Jeff at first, maybe she's a bigger perv than him. She's the one who actually goes over to investigate, no longer content to simply watch. She must make herself a part of the story she observes. That's when the table turns on Jeff and us. Now, Hitchcock shows us everything, the murderer lingering right outside his door while Grace Kelly sneaks into his apartment. It proceeds the killer coming into Jeff's apartment for the final confrontation, a moment of shadowy suspense so powerful it's almost unbearable. This is when the story's peeping hero must deal with the consequences of his actions. If "Rear Window" is a deeply kinky story of watching, this finale essentially has Jeffries coming face to face with someone freakier than him. Considering the film puts us, the viewer, behind the camera lens so often, this climax is so tense because it feels as if we are being attacked too. 

Of course, it's only a movie. We aren't in real danger. We aren't real perverts. (Not in this context anyway.) The nature of "Rear Window's" visual design is built around making us observers. The elaborate set constructed for the film creates an immediate sense of un-reality. When combined with the utterly gorgeous Technicolor cinematography – why oh why don't movies look this pretty anymore? – the result is a visual experience clearly more dream-like than grounded. Hitchcock abandons this brightness for the shadowy climax, when Jeffries is finally in the same room with his subject. These scenes are shot in such a more intimate fashion than the distant, voyeuristic shooting style of most of the film. "Rear Window" violates the cinematic form it has established in order to create a disorienting, distressing climax. Movies are still dreams, however, allowing Hitch and his heroes and everyone watching to safely indulge their desires. "Rear Window" ends on an angelic note, Jeff finally satisfied and resting. This follows Jimmy Stewart falling from his window via photographic effects that look more artificial than the rest of the movie, the result suggesting floating more than plummeting. If we follow "Rear Window's" erotic subtext further, these moments can't help but read as orgasm and the afterglow. 

Or maybe I'm reading too much into it. If I am, then I certainly wouldn't be the first. Like all of Hitchcock's masterworks, "Rear Window" has been endlessly overturned by scholars and authors. I could go on and on myself. I haven't gotten into Stewart and Kelly's chemistry, so compelling you can't look away from them. Or the way the film truly does get us involved in the mini-dramas of its side stories, of Miss Lonelyheart's search for someone to understand her. It's all masterfully done. You don't need me to tell you that "Rear Window" is one of the all-time great works by one of the all-time great filmmakers but that doesn't make it any less true. [10/10]

Children of the Corn II: The Final Sacrifice (1992)

New World Pictures, as we knew it, would essentially cease to exist by the end of the eighties. The scrappy exploitation studio had grown into a larger beast, moving into TV production, acquiring several small networks, and owning Marvel Comics for a time. The end of the decade saw a major financial slump, leading to a corporate restructuring that not-so-slowly phased out the schlocky stuff. Eventually, the entity that was New World was absorbed into 20th Century Fox, by which point whatever remained of the company had shifted its focus entirely to television. Still, former executive Larry Kuppin was out there, trying to keep the trash cinema dream alive. He quickly formed Trans Atlantic Entertainment with the express purpose of producing sequels to successful New World films. This is why the early nineties saw the release of "Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth," "Angel 4: Undercover" and "Children of the Corn II: The Final Sacrifice." Which brings us to the topic of today's review, the first attempt to franchise Stephen King's tale of kids with a passion for old-time religion, patricide, and agriculture. 

"The Final Sacrifice" lacks Troy and Rowsdower but does have a pretty smart pitch for a "Children of the Corn" follow-up. The outside world discovers Gatlin, Nebraska and especially the mass grave of adults under the town. This attracts the press, including tabloid reporter John Garret who drags his teenage son Danny along with him. The remaining children relocate to the neighboring town of Hemingford, most ending up at a bed and breakfast run by a woman named Angela. (Where John and Danny also happen to be staying.) As the former corn heads seem to be leaving the cult behind, a dark haired youth named Micah is possessed by He Who Walks Behind the Rows. Micah immediately gets the youthful gang back into the business of murdering any adults that besmirch the corn. Noticing the sudden rise in mysterious homicides, John investigates. 

"Tales from the Crypt's" A.L. Katz and Gilbert Adler clearly had several ideas when tasked with writing a "Children of the Corn" sequel. And they used every single one. The set-up of the outside world discovering Gatlin and trying to deprogram the corn-obsessed killers was a solid enough foundation for a follow-up. King's musings on Bible-thumping fundamentalism remains, a hell-and-brimstone preacher screaming through a few scenes and Micah clearly being a Damien Thorn wannabe. To this stew, Native American mysticism – very trendy in 1992 – is added. John meets a man called Frank Red Bear, who introduces him to a indigenous myth about a spirit who protects the Earth. When the spirit feels people aren't respecting Mother Earth, it prompts the children to rise up and kill. This bends towards an environmental angle, with the reveal that Hemingford's massive corn production is tainted by a psychoactive mold. Essentially, "Children of the Corn II" presents three separate origins for He Who Walks Behind the Rows and the kids who love him: Demonic, mystical, or bad corn causing mass psychosis. No attempt is made to correlate these ideas, none of which have much to do with King's vaguely Lovecraftian, folk-pagan premise. 

Adler and Katz go further, introducing a conspiracy subplot. The town elders of Hemingford know the corn is tainted but they cover it up for the sake of profits. The sheriff tries to kill John and Red Bear with a thresher after they discover this. This additional idea points towards an interesting thematic point. The original "Children of the Corn" evoked horror from adult anxieties over what kooky shit their kids are getting into. The sequel, instead, implies that the older generation has failed their offspring. Danny was the result of a teenage fling, John making it seem like he resents his own son. Micah's origin involves a hyper-religious, hypocritical father who punished his son for the same "sins" he covertly performed. Most of the residents seem to consider the children a burden. That the whole town is participating in a cover-up that potentially poisons everyone makes the murderous rebellion seem almost justified. The kid cultists mostly target authority figures, like a doctor, the sheriff, the preacher, a rich old woman in an electric wheelchair. The kids aren't alright but it's not their fault. Maybe they deserve revenge against the adults who resent and doom them. 

Whatever high-minded attempt was made to elevate the material, "Children of the Corn II" is well aware of its status as a trashy horror sequel. While Danny makes out with a blonde hottie – played by Jesse's little sister from "Nightmare on Elm Street 2!" – in a cornfield, a corpse says peekaboo as things get heated. Mostly, it's via some elaborate murder scenes that "The Final Sacrifice" shows its true colors. The kids corner the town doctor in his office at night, jabbing him with every sharp object that can grab. An old woman is crushed by her own house, a "Wizard of Oz" homage that is nicely stretched out. Naturally, someone goes through that thresher before the end too. 

The sequel doubles down on the original's "Omen" vibes, ominous chanting on the soundtrack as Micah's black eyes stare and horrible "coincidences" befall people. Showing the general atmosphere of early nineties horror, the death scenes quickly veer towards camp. Micha whittling at a wooden doll causes a guy's nose to gush blood in church. This quickly, excessively, hilariously escalates to his eyeballs splattering on the inside of his glasses. A hurricane tosses a corn stalk like a spear through someone's throat. The best moment comes when the aforementioned wheelchair bound old biddy is directed into the path of an eighteen wheeler, her little body sailing through a picture window. Laughs are clearly the intended target, as these brutal deaths are followed up by sick jokes. Like the kids shoving a lollypop into the dead doctor's mouth or the old lady landing in the middle of a bingo game. 

The tone of camp continues with Ryan Bollman's glaring, sweaty performance as Micah, some dodgy digital effects, and multiple cheesy monster POV shots. Low budget schlock had a higher degree of professionalism in the early nineties, as frequent Tobe Hooper collaborator Levie Issack creates some genuinely moody cinematography. Director David F. Price keeps it rolling along quickly, never leaving too much time between something goofy, bloody, or sexy happening. While any laughs the original had were strictly of the unintentional variety, the sequel is definitely in on the joke. It doesn't top the high-water mark for tongue-in-cheek early nineties sequels to eighties cult classics – "Night of the Demons 2," naturally – but still benefits greatly from the diminished expectations an eight years later follow-up generates. Messy, goofy, and filled with fun and interesting ideas, "Children of the Corn II: The Final Sacrifice" is a good time for any horror fans seeking out some cheap thrills. [7/10]

The Outer Limits: The Man Who Was Never Born

A while back, I watched an episode of "The Outer Limits" that starred Martin Landau and is considered among the show's best. That went well so, this year, I decided to watch an episode of "The Outer Limits" that starred Martin Landau and is considered among the show's best. "The Man Who Was Never Born" begins with an astronaut unwittingly travelling through time. He lands on a future Earth, where a lab-born virus has wiped out most of mankind and rendered the survivors hideously deformed. He encounters Andro, a mutated historian who knows everything about the man who unleashed the plague: Bertram Cabot Jr. They travel back in time with the goal of preventing the outbreak, the astronaut perishing in the journey. Andro, using hypnotic suggestion to hide his true visage and now in the 1960s, meets a girl named Noelle... Who is about to marry Bertram Cabot the First. When Andro realizes these are the parents of the scientist he seeks, he suffers a moral conundrum. It gets worse when he falls in love with Noelle.

At its best, "The Outer Limits" blended classic sci-fi premises with monster-of-the-week thrills. At its worst, the show could be convoluted and heavy-handed. I think both words describe "The Man Who Was Never Born." When you're already using time travel, potential for a plot to go off-the-rails exists. Adding a dead astronaut and hypnotic powers really pushes it for me. The episode is clearly inspired by the old debate over whether it would be ethical to go back and kill Baby Hitler. Whether it's right to sacrifice one innocent life to save a million more. Andro is an extremely self-serious guy, always intoning gravely about what he is here to do. It's hard to believe that Noelle, played as a total innocent by Shirley Knight, could ever fall for a weirdo like this. For the most part, "The Man Who Was Never Born" never lets you forget that it is dealing with important, philosophical questions.

The deeper into the story we go, the more melodramatic it becomes. The episode nearly ends with a fist fight at a wedding and a frenzied manhunt through the forest. Despite its obvious flaws, I still found some things to like. Andro is a ridiculous character but Martin Landau manages, through sheer professionalism, make him a convincing protagonist. Like every episode of "Outer Limits," it's also extremely well shot. The shadowy close-ups of Andro's face suggests the kind of heightened reality where stories like this are suitable. When he hypnotically presents Noelle with a vision of his future, what follows –  ruins rolling over Landau's face – is quite lyrical. The same can be said of the episode's final shot, of a lone figure fading into the vastness of space. The gleaming, retro-futurism of Andro's lair is also such a cool set. If the script focused more on the romance between a hideously deformed mutant – cool make-up, by the way – and a wide-eyed maiden, it would've been more convincing, the conclusion more meaningful. It's not a bad hour of TV but I guess I prefer my sci-fi stories with more monsters and fewer debates about the morality of time travel assassination. [6/10]

The Addams Family: The Addams Family Tree

“The Addams Family Tree” sees Wednesday and Pugsley invited to the birthday party of Harold Pomeroy, the son of another prominent family in the area. After Harold insults the Addams family’s lineage, he receives a black eye. While Gomez and Morticia try to get their children to apologize, they soon get insulted by Mr. Harold as well. They become determined to look into the family history and prove his accusation that the Addams are of low class incorrect. Along the way, they also do some digging into the Pomeroy family tree and uncover some interesting things about their newest rival.

A running gag throughout all “Addams Family” media is the unlikely and bizarre members of the extended family. This episode gives us a peek at that, with mentions of distant relatives with names like Blemish, Slurp, Clot, Bleak, and Grand-Uncle Grizzly. While that’s definitely an amusing joke – especially when Morticia is attempting to paint a portrait of an apparently three-eyed member of the family – “The Addams Family Tree” is notable for being a little weirder and meaner than the previous episodes. Fester threatens to shoot the Pomeroy patriarch in the back with his blunderbuss, a conversation that becomes amusingly circular. Pugsley ties up Harold and chases him with a tomahawk while playing “Indian.” (Maybe a gag that isn’t the most politically correct.) The episode ends by wondering if Kitty Kat didn’t eat someone alive. Pretty dark comedy for 1964 television! I also like the reveal about which of the Addams children punched Harold and an exchange about the family having roots in Salem. Also the first appearance of Gomez’ fencing foil, as far as I can tell. [7/10]