Rehepapp
When people look back at the last ten years in horror, what trends in the genre will leap out to them as the defining movement of this time? Will it be the trauma-rehashing “elevated” horror films of A24 and Neon? Or, instead, will the rising popularity of folk horror be seen as more relevant in retrospect? It's a term I don't think I had heard much until the release of “The Witch” in 2015. After that, it was suddenly everywhere, especially in the indie scene. Europe, it almost goes without saying, dominates the folk horror subgenre. In our Anglo-centric worldview, we still think of the European continent as the center of most folkloric beliefs. The further into Europe you go, the weirder things tend to get. A good example of this rule is “November,” probably the first monster movie to come out of Estonia.
While German nobles near-by live in luxury, the members of an isolated Estonian village must resort to witchcraft to survive. Despite nominally being Christians, the villagers regularly makes deal with the devil to animate kratts, minions cobbled together from household objects and animated with stolen souls. Rakk has regularly been cheating the devil, signing with currants, instead of blood. He has sold his daughter, Liina, to a drunkard in town. Liina, however, is in love with Hans, a handsome boy from the village. Hans, meanwhile, only has eyes for the sleepwalking daughter of the rich family. The two seek out magic spells to attract the objects of their affections. Their melodramas play out among the ghosts, witches, demons, and manifestations of the Black Plague that threaten the village.
Kratts, by the way, are actual figures from Estonian mythology, the Baltic equivalent to the Icelandic Tilburi and the Norwegian Bjara: Creatures made by a wizard or witch to steal supplies from them. That's a good example of how writer/director Rainer Samet – adapting a novel by Andrius Kivirahk – pulls from actual folkloric traditions. The story of meeting the devil at the crossroads, attempting to cheat him only to pay the price some other way, is another classical story recognizable from any number of countries. “November” swirls many of these ideas together into a loose narrative. Subplots involve the ghosts of ancestors passing through the village on All Souls Night or the town leaders finding a compromise with the manifestation of the Black Plague. (Who appears, alternatively, as a beautiful woman, a goat, and a cutty black sow.) Not all of these stories blend together in a satisfying way. A subplot about a man seeking out a love potion to win over the servant girl he loves, which collapses into violence, doesn't link much with the main story. “November” still proves to be a fascinating swirl of strange, old tales.
Linking these various plot threads together is a premise that is universal: Unrequited love. Wanting someone who doesn't want you is among the most human of all feelings. Liina sees Hans as a way to escape the tyranny of her father. Hans is unaware of her, instead enraptured by the beauty and glamour of the nobleman's daughter. The solutions both find to their problems – communing with a wolf, summoning a magic arrow, and foolishly creating an immobile kratt out of snow destined to melt – represent the kind of desperate moves young people make when they are in love and isolated. Stories like this are the most common among fairy tales and folklore, furthering the feeling that “November” taps into something older and intrinsic as it plays with extremely culturally specific concepts. How this love story plays out, moving towards an ironic and tragic ending, wraps “November” up on a bittersweet, oddly funny, and quietly touching note.
Special effects legend and monster kid icon Rick Baker, despite a generally soft-spoken attitude, has done his fair share of self-mythologizing over the years. If you have any interest in practical creature effects, you've likely heard Baker talk about his early days, baking foam latex in his mother's stove and making elaborate make-ups in his bedroom for local productions. Baker's first professional, paying credit is often listed as making the two-headed gorilla in “The Thing with Two Heads,” widely credited with getting him the "King Kong" gig a few years later. Baker would probably prefer that to be true but this is not the case. Instead, Baker's first Hollywood job as a monster maker – while still a teenager – was an often overlooked and little loved piece of schlock from 1971 called “Octaman.” When the movie is remembered at all, it's usually because of the Baker connection. If it's remembered beyond that, it's as a laughably bad attempt to revive the rubber suit monster movie at the start of a decade when such things were long out of fashion.
Dr. Torres and his assistant, Susan, travel to an isolated Mexican lake to see how radioactive run-off has affected the local wildlife and fishing community. They soon discover a mutated octopus with strangely human-like eyes. They take the creature back to America but fail to secure funding for another trip... Until they catch the eye of Johnny Caruso, a carny and circus promoter interested in capturing a monster to display at his freak show. They travel back to the lake, via winnebago, to find their research partners horribly murdered. The indigenous population speaks of a mythical beast that is half man and half octopus. It seems those stories are true, as the scientists are quickly pursued by such a hybrid. After the monster becomes fascinated by Susan, the team captures this octopus man... But can such a beast be contained?
"Octaman" was written and directed by Harry Essex, a veteran screenwriter who gifted the world with "It Came from Outer Space," "Man-Made Monster," and "Creature from the Black Lagoon." The latter most film was the clear blueprint for "Octaman." Essex swipes the structure of his earlier work, with a suspiciously similar story of scientists travelling to a remote body of water and encountering an amphibious monster murdering the locals, who then develops a crush on the expedition's sole female. Presumably, scenes of Octaman watching Susan swim were cut due to the production's paltry budget. The character of Johnny Caruso, a cynical capitalist interested only in exploiting this scientific curiosity for cash, recalls Richard Denning's Mark from "Creature." (And that character shouts out "Kong," the clear inspiration for both movies.) A scene of a downed tree blocking the winnebago's path is also similar to the Rita being trapped in the lagoon. While the Gillman's story shoved its ecological themes into subtext, they are blatantly discussed in "Octaman." The characters openly consider the impact of pollution and radiation on the people, animals, and environment. Though whether Octaman is the result of toxic waste or local legend, as the native population speaks of the critter, remains frustratingly vague.
In other words, "Octaman" shows all the signs of being a hideously cheap rush job. Also rushed was the film's copyrighting process, as "Octaman" is seemingly in the public domain. This has led to it being mocked in later productions like "Gremlins 2" and RiffTrax. (How this didn't end up on one of the iterations of "Mystery Science Theater 3000" is a mystery to me.) And "Octaman" is an easy movie to mock, with almost every element being subpar. I'm not going to argue that the film is good by any means, as there are many dull stretches. However, I am susceptible to the charms of a big dumb rubber octopus man. "Octaman" has the kind of cozy, B-movie vibes that I find relaxing and enjoyable. All that is missing are some zippy host segments from Elvira or Count Gore to make this an ideal film to drift asleep to. I don't know if that's a recommendation or not but a certain breed of monster movie dork knows exactly what I'm talking about. [6/10]
Of Roald Dahl's thriller stories, "Poison" is one of his best known. It was in my high school English textbook and I'm sure that was true for others. The story has been adapted several times as well, as an episode of "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" and more recently by Wes Anderson. In-between those two takes, it was also made into an episode of "Tales of the Unexpected." It concerns newly sober Harry Pope, an English teacher stationed in India during the British Raj. While in bed one night, a highly venomous krait slithers up under the sheets. Harry lies perfectly still, fearful to move lest the snake bites him. His roommate, Timber, arrives afterwards and quickly calls a doctor, a local named Ganderbai, to help deal with the serpent. This version adds a subplot about Timber bringing a married woman back home with him and a new, meaner ending than Dahl's original story.
While "Tales of the Unexpected's" status as a horror program was always debatable, "Poison" features an undeniably frightening premise. Any ophidiophobics are likely to find the scene of a viper squirming under Harry's bed sheets, until its head pokes out onto his chest, utterly nerve wracking. Subsequently being held captive in your own bed for hours, terrified to move an inch or potentially face death, is truly the stuff of nightmares. "Tales of the Unexpected" could definitely mine this scenario for more tension but it's not badly handled either. Director Graham Evans utilizes the camera sliding pass the walls of the set quite well to create a sense of movement. The many close-ups of Harry's sweaty, frozen face give you an idea of what he's going through. If the episode can't get you wholly invested in its characters, that's as much a fault of this being a twenty minute TV presentation as anything else.
The running gag of Uncle Fester powering a light bulb forms the entire backbone of "Uncle Fester's Illness." While attempting to power some of Gomez's toy trains, Fester's energy supply seems to be running low. This threatens to cancel an upcoming family outing, where Fester was expected to light the way while Wednesday searched a cave for spiders. Home remedies are no help and the family's usual (witch) doctor is unavailable. This forces the Addams to call on Dr. Milford, a local physician who reacts as you'd expect when making a house call to the kooky, spooky brood.
Over halfway through the first season, "The Addams Family" must have been deemed a success by the network. It seems to have led to an uptick in the budget. "Uncle Fester's Illness" cuts to an African village for a short gag involving the family's witch doctor. Later, there's a good bit in which the family goes "moon bathing," which seems to feature a new set. The episode is full of chuckle-worthy jokes like that, such as Thing coming down with a mysterious illness himself or Gomez calling a (rude) electrician when Fester first loses his spark. Wednesday's visible disappointment when the trip sounds like it'll be canceled is another highlight. Once again, Lisa Loring's adorable reactions prove to among the show's best secret weapons.
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