Halloween 2024: September 18th

Five (1951)

In August of 1945, the United States dropped two nuclear bombs on Japan. The world had been changed forever and people knew it immediately. The term "cold war" was coined the next April. Less than two years later, it was already understood that the United States and the Soviet Union were in a slowly escalating nuclear arms race. By the start of the new decade, the entire world was living under an ever-present fear that the Cold War could get hot at any minute. This brought with it a new type of fiction: The nuclear holocaust story, an exploration of how the world may end in radioactive hellfire and how humanity might survive in the aftermath. As far as anyone can tell, the first movie made about this idea came in 1951, less than six years after this era began. Arch Oboler, acclaimed for his work on influential radio program "Lights Out," would write, direct, and produce "Five" on a miniscule budget that year. Overlooked for years, the film has more recently taken its place in horror and science fiction film history. 

Following the detonation of a new type of nuclear weapon, the world is bathed in a radioactive dust that eliminates the majority of humanity overnight. A pregnant woman named Roseanne wanders the now empty countryside, in search of her husband. She ends up at a home occupied by another survivor, named Michael. They are soon joined by two more, a black man named Charles and a sickly bank teller named Oliver. A German man named Eric washes up on the beach shortly afterwards. These five people, possibly the last humans left on Earth, debate how to survive in the aftermath of such a tragedy, with the racist Eric wanting them to explore the near-by cities while Michael supports farming out in the country. Roseanne, an object of lust for both men, is caught in the middle. 

Unsurprisingly, considering its subject matter, "Five" is a shockingly bleak motion picture. Much like "Night of the Living Dead" and the countless imitators it would spawn, Oboler's film is based around a depressing but all too likely observation: The end of the world isn't going to change people. Petty squabbling, prejudice, greed, and power plays still characterizes these survivors, despite the future of the human race being in their hands. Eric is unable to put his racism aside, telling Michael that he "finds his mere presence distasteful." Michael and Eric, two alpha males of their own, spend most of the movie bickering. Eric's bitter rivalry with the others sees him driving a Jeep through the corn crop the group has worked so hard to cultivate. Eric's constant douchebaggery becomes all the more meaningless in light of "Five's" increasingly downbeat last act. Let's simply say I was surprised that a movie from 1951 would go to such a dark place in its final moments.

Then again, that "Five" only gets more nihilistic as it goes on probably shouldn't be a shock. This is, after all, a movie that begins more-or-less with the destruction of the human race. The incredible grimness of that idea is carried through the movie's visuals. Louis Clyde Stoumen – who is credited as “cinematographic consultant” –  composes some truly eerie black-and-white images. The film's earliest scenes are largely dialogue free, devoted to Roseanne wandering through an empty small town and coming upon a skeleton in an abandoned car. The film returns to that visuals at the end, once we get to the city, and we see entire buses and buildings packed with skeletons. While the idea is ridiculous when you think about it any deeper, the bomb and fallout reducing everyone to bones in seconds, it feels properly nightmarish. This is also evident in the film's main location: A Frank Lloyd Wright designed house that sticks out on the otherwise flat, empty countryside. The many shots of the angular slants of the building's tower against the countryside are suitably dream-like, adding to “Five's” overall uneasy presentation. 

Oboler's history as a writer for radio is occasionally apparent in “Five.” The film is somewhat stage-like in its construction at times. Long stretches of the movie are devoted to these five characters – it's actually less, once people start to die off – talking about their dilemmas or the ways they've adapted to post-apocalyptic life. The performances in the film suit the sometimes stiff construction of the script. William Phipps and James Anderson, as Michael and Eric, do give somewhat melodramatic performances. Both of them fit the slightly oversized nature of a story about the last people alive on Earth. The acting is ultimately effective, both Phipps and Anderson being able to work with the verbose dialogue. Susan Douglas Rubes plays Roseanne with a fitting degree of vulnerability, properly conveying how heartbroken and shell-shocked she must be. Charles Lampkin is also extremely good as Charles, giving a quiet and observational performance. A scene where he delivers lines from a poem by James Weldon Johnson is especially moving.

“Five” is certainly one of those films that I never heard anyone talk about for years. Until, that is, a prominent Blu-Ray release put the movie back into the discussion, suddenly becoming regarded as a classic. However, considering "Five's" prominent place in genre movie history, as seemingly the first post-nuclear apocalypse movie made, it deserves to be rediscovered and discussed in more detail. One expects that it was probably an influence on later stories on the same topic, such as “The World, the Flesh and the Devil” or “Z for Zachariah.” The extremely low budget and sometimes stiff writing are undeniably detracting factors but “Five” proves to be a surprisingly eerie and disturbing film throughout. [7/10]

Children of the Corn 666: Isaac's Return (1999)

Most of the long-running horror series have an iconic villain associated with them. Jason, Freddy, Michael Myers, Leatherface, etcetera are synonymous with the movies that spawned them. This is usually true of the more niche horror franchises too. Angela is in all the “Sleepaway Camps,” Blade is front-and-center in each “Puppet Master.” Even the most disconnected of “Amityville” movies at least reference the iconic house. This was, as of the fifth installment, not true for “Children of the Corn.” He Who Walks Behind the Rows shows up, in some form, in each movie but He's more of an entity than a character. Isaac, the original's proper villain, had been replaced with ersatz juvenile cult leaders in each sequel. This must have been frustrating for John Franklin, the diminutive actor who played the role, as he was still acting throughout the eighties and nineties. At some point, Franklin took matters into his own hands and wrote a "Children of the Corn" sequel that resurrected Isaac. Dimension Films, I guess wanting to continue their DTV cash cow but not having any other ideas, picked up Franklin's premise. "Children of the Corn 666: Isaac's Return" would crop up in video stores in October of 1999, harvested by Halloween hungry horror fans without any better options. 

Hannah Martin heads to Gatlin, Nebraska, the town where a cult of children murdered all the adults nineteen years prior. Hannah was born there and is in search of her birth mother. After crashing her car into a cornfield, she's taken to a hospital. There, she discovers that Isaac is very much still alive and has merely been in a coma all this time. Awoken by Hannah's presence, Isaac gets back to work rebuilding his cult among the youths of the struggling town. She befriends Gabriel, another second generation Children of the Corn, as they attempt to unravel the prophecies and conspiracies circling around Hannah and the town's ominous history. 

"Isaac's Return" does have some interesting ideas. At least in King's original story, the Children were quite intent on having more children before hitting the legal age of adulthood. What happens to that second generation, years after the cult has dissolved? Of course, every cult has it's true believers too. A handful of devotees are still awaiting David Koresh's resurrection. Somebody is maintaining the Heaven's Gate website to this day. It's probable that Isaac would still have followers nearly two decades after the massacre in the small town. However, "Children of the Corn 666" doesn't do anything with these ideas once they are introduced. Instead, the film becomes a tangle of vaguely defined prophecies and competing subplots. Hannah's birth mother, the script wasting Nancy Allen, floats in and out of the plot. A number of locals bump into Hannah, drifting back and forth through the story after that. Isaac and his gang make comments about birthrights and prophecies, none of it especially developed or coherent. 

Before the end, "Isaac's Return" has dissolved into a whole bunch of shit happening without much reason connecting any of it. Stacy Keach shows up as the town doctor and is then executed. Isaac's son – conceived while he was in his coma, I guess – is branded and accepted into the cult. Hannah has jittery visions and ominous interactions with local creeps. While watching, I couldn't help but notice... There's not much corn in this movie. Not too many people I would define as children exactly either. Isaac's cultists all appear to be at least teenagers, if not twenty-somethings. That's when you remember that... Isn't one of the foundational beliefs of this group that anyone over 18 should be put to death? Why is Isaac, now an adult, still being allowed to lead? Why are any of the adults in town still alive? He Who Walks Behind the Rows is referenced a few times and reappears via a plot twist that I truly didn't understand. Other than that – and a single scene of Hannah being stalked through the cornfield by scythe wielding weirdos – "Isaac's Return" dismisses the gimmicks and ideas that have defined this franchise up to this point. 

Truthfully, I found "Children of the Corn 666" to be a very annoying cinematic experience. Aside from an incoherent plot made up of one meaningless scene after another, the sequel is genuinely ugly to look at. Richard Clabaugh, after photographing part four, is back as cinematographer here. While his previous work in the series was decent, "Isaac's Return" is full of sweeping, showy camera movements that do little beside make events hard to follow. The editing varies between frantic and self-consciously arty, further muddying any visual coherence. The sound design and score is heavy on discordant noise and ominous humming. Director Kari Skogland – proving that women are as capable of directing bad movies as men – insists on a color palette largely composed of toxic waste greens and hazy, earthy browns and yellows. It's obvious that "Children of the Corn 666" is another one of those turn-of-the-century horror films that decided taking the look of "Seven" and the "Closer" music video further would make their movie transgressive and edgy, without considering basic visual coherence or tolerability. This is presumably why the movie shoves dead crows into the camera over and over again. 

Lacking any semblance of suspense, ambiance, or the cheap thrills of decent gore, "Children of the Corn 666" is a motion picture with almost no redeemable qualities. Its attempts at scares are trite. Its story is so sketchily defined that I didn't understand the ending until reading the Wikipedia synopsis. Skogland signed on to direct, despite not liking horror, in hopes that she could elevate the material. Instead, all the sequel accomplished was being a self-serious glob of unrealized ideas and hideous visuals. Skogland largely stuck to television after this. Eventually, she became well known for critically acclaimed shows like "The Handmaid's Tale" and "Sons of Liberty." Most recently, she directed one of Marvel's big budget mini-series. Good for her. As for John Franklin, he worked as a teacher for a while and pops up on film and TV occasionally. In-between playing Isaac, Cousin Itt, and briefly Chucky, the dude remains a regular presence on the horror convention circuit. I can respect that. This movie still sucks though. [2/10]

Shadows of Fear: Did You Lock Up?

For reasons I surely lack the cultural context to understand, horror/thriller anthologies were very popular on British television in the early seventies. Maybe it was a reaction to the turbulent political climate of that time. Maybe it was continuing an English tradition of ghost stories. Either way, there were a lot of them on at the time. "Shadows of Fear" was another such example, running for eleven episodes on ITV between 1970 and 1973. The series was distinguished by focusing on earthly fears and human killers, as opposed to supernatural elements. These days, when the rather obscure series is remembered, it's usually for its eerie, animated opening credits. Still, I was intrigued and decided to check out the first episode, "Did You Lock Up?" 

Peter and Moira Astle get out of their house for a romantic evening. While they are gone, two burglars break in. In addition to stealing several pounds and a gold watch, they punch holes in the wall and cut up the couch. The intrusion deeply disturbs Peter. He becomes obsessed with finding the responsible party. After a police detective assures him that crooks always return to the scene of the crime, he installs a trap in the kitchen to capture any intruders. Unsettled by his fixation, Moira insists he take a vacation to the country with her. Using work as an excuse, he stays behind and soon catches the thieves in his cage. A battle of wills ensues. 

Our homes are our abodes, the place where we feel most relaxed. To have someone invade that safe space would surely violate anyone's sense of privacy. "Did You Lock Up?" makes its intruders real little bastards, not only stealing but also wrecking the place. Peter's reaction is honestly understandable. I think we'd all probably install some security measures in such a situation. His growing obsession also exposes his entitlement and warped sense of retribution. Because Peter was wronged, he believes no response is too disproportionate. He wants the burglars to suffer, daydreaming about seeing them in prison or personally injuring them. It says a lot about the guy's perspective that, when he catches the intruders, he asks them why they don't get "normal jobs." Being traumatized by such an event is reasonable but Peter's reaction reveals a distinctly classist fixation, not with justice but punishment. 

All social commentary aside, "Did You Lock Up?" is simply a well executed little thriller. Michael Craig is charming in his early scenes but his slow slide into obsession is well depicted. The episode nicely puts us into his angry, hype-fixated state of mind. Like all British TV from this time I've seen, "Shadows of Fear" is short on music and often stagey in execution. This execution does draw attention to how commonplace its setting is, how isolated Peter becomes from his wife, and the growing tension of his plan formulating. When he finally has the criminals in his cage, the dialogue that follows has you wondering how far this will go. The chilling ending, that continues into the credits, really has you considering when righting a wrong becomes an unhinged quest for vengeance. Good stuff! I might have to give more episodes of "Shadows of Fear" a look in the future. [7/10]

The Addams Family: The New Neighbors Meet the Addams Family

I love how literal old sitcom titles are. Yes, this episode does indeed feature new neighbors meeting the Addams. Young newlyweds Hubert and Amanda Peterson move into the house next door, unaware that Gomez is the one leasing them the home. After hearing Fester's explosions and the uncle attempts to enter the home through a trap door, Amanda immediately wants to move out. Hubert insists on giving the neighbors a try, accepting an invitation to a bridge game with Gomez and Morticia. The Addams try to make their new neighbors as comfortable as possible, though their version of generosity is quickly misinterpreted by the straight-laced Petersons. 

"The New Neighbors" does attempt to add an angle to the once-an-episode gag of average people reacting to the Addams' eccentricities. Hubert is convinced the home is a bargain and wants to do anything he can not to upset his landlords. When Thing leaps out of his box to help Amanda with her bridge hand, or Gomez happily offers them all of the weird animal related statues in their living room, the couple feels compelled to be fine with it. It's not a bad set of gags, especially when they feature lizard teeth tossed into the air or Aristotle the Octopus getting a bath. The best sight gag is definitely Morticia asking to "smoke," which plays out as you'd expect but still got a hearty laugh from me. Carolyn Jones' precise body language sells a number of gags, such as when she finds a quick solution to her roses needing clipping. 

Ultimately though, I like this episode because of the way it contrasts the Addams with this quote-unquote normal couple. Amanda and Hubert are bickering in almost every scene they have together. She seems constantly displeased with everything, while he's desperate to please her. He can't make her happy and he can't be himself around her. Those two get divorced in two or three years max. Gomez and Morticia, meanwhile, are as horny for each other as network censors would allow in 1964. Her ability to perfectly mimic a bullfrog croak drives Gomez into a frenzy. The episode concludes with the couple implying they are about to bang like newlyweds for three straight days. It's coated in innuendo but... Still quite spicy for the time. 

Other notes: Fester and Granmama consider murdering the neighbors after Amanda hits him with a frying pan. That strikes me as a bit of an overreaction. It amuses me that the Addams' real estate guy is completely immune to their macabre habits. The mounted moose head with the askew antlers is named Pierre. This episode also features some good Things moments, such as when Mortica scolds him for his rudeness or Gomez refers to the hand as a "woman-hater." Thing, a misogynist? Say it isn't so. [7/10]