Halloween 2024: October 8th

V/H/S/Beyond (2024)

I often wonder what it must have felt like to be a horror fan in the eighties, living through the period when the “Friday the 13th” and “A Nightmare on Elm Street” series had new installments every year. We look back on those franchises with nostalgic fondness now but, having lived through yearly “Paranormal Activity” and “Saw” installments, it was probably more exhausting than invigorating at the time. Another modern example of a yearly horror series is “V/H/S.” Since Shudder took over production with “V/H/S/94,” they've been cranking out new installment in the found footage anthology format every October. I suppose to capitalize on all that scuttlebutt about UFOs a while back, the seventh “V/H/S” movie has a cosmic theme. Yes, “V/H/S/Beyond” could otherwise be called “V/H/S/In/Space.” However, these films are usually only as good as their director line-up and I found this year's batch to be seriously underwhelming. When filmmakers like Dutch Marich and Chris LaMartina are out there doing actually interesting things with the found footage style, Shudder rounded up Mike Flanagan's wife and, uh, Justin Long? Needless to say, I went into “V/H/S/Beyond” with measured expectations. 

The framing device of “V/H/S/Beyond” is a television documentary about alien phenomenon being caught on camera, building towards the reveal of a notorious piece of extraterrestrial related footage. Interspersed are five stories: “Stork” has a team of cops, their body-cams engaged, heading into a house that is at the center of a recent spat of child abductions. “Dream Girl” follows paparazzi in India sneaking onto the set of the new movie from Bollywood's hottest new actress, discovering a shocking truth about her. “Live and Let Dive” sees a group of friends documenting a birthday skydiving trip, when they unexpectedly cross over into an alien invasion. “Fur Babies” concerns animal activists investigating a dog daycare service run by an eccentric woman with an unhealthy fixation on animals. “Stowaway” is about a young woman recording strange lights in the desert and unintentionally hitching a ride on an otherworldly spacecraft. 

The foundation of the “V/H/S” series has always been – as the title obviously indicates – that these stories are recorded on tapes. The previous three entries leaned on that retro aesthetic, probably to make up for the franchise low-point, “V/H/S/Viral,” straying from that premise. Unfortunately, “V/H/S/Beyond” sees the series once again getting bored with the video gimmick that is ostensibly its entire point. “Stork,” “Dream Girl” and “Fur Babies” all feature multiple camera angles that casually violate the point-of-view structure of the found footage concept. “Dream Girl” outright abandons the approach for a full-on Bollywood style musical number. Director Virat Pal – who has mostly done shorts before this – does what he can to justify this change. However, it creates an unavoidable feeling that “V/H/S/Beyond” fits itself into the found footage set-up only to justify its status as a part of this series. Otherwise, these stories aren't committed to the idea of being lost tapes from an unlucky recorder. 

In fact, “V/H/S/Beyond” presents a distressing fact: That movies aren't influencing movies as much these days. The framing device is done in the style of a television series. Considering it's directed by Jay Cheel, who did Shudder's “Cursed Films” doc series, that might be unsurprising. “Stork,” meanwhile feels like director Jordan Downey (previously of “The Head Hunter” and “Thankskilling”) auditioning to make a “Resident Evil” adaptation. This is evident in the premise, a group of law enforcement officers heading into a house full of zombies and weird monsters. The shifting first-person perspectives, when combined with the constant gun fire and action scenes, furthers the video game influence. The segment concludes with the cops gunning down a climatic monster, as if it's the boss battle at the end of a game level. I don't dismiss games as an art form but “Stork” reminds me of a video game in bad ways. Namely the characters being sketches that obnoxiously spit profanity, the plot being nothing but a thin justification, and the action scenes being far too fast to be coherent. 

Not that an obvious film influence necessarily makes something better. “Fur Babies” is the one from actor Justin Long and his brother Christian. The main element of grotesque horror in this story rather resembles a movie Long starred in, “Tusk.” (It also resembles Norwegian thriller, “Good Boy.”) I actually do like the premise of this one, a seemingly benign middle-age woman hiding her unhinged tendencies behind a cheery disposition. The strange ways people connect with their dogs is a fertile ground for horror. However, “Fur Babies” ultimately lays its cards down too early about the true nature of this hostess. That it recycles the kind of sickly green, grimy dungeon visuals that we've seen in countless “Saw” rip-offs is disappointing at well. This is another segment seriously hassled by the camera constantly changing perspectives, drawing too much attention to how the story is told, rather than what is being told. 

Ultimately, “V/H/S/Beyond” is at its best when embracing the UFO angle. “Live and Let Dive” is from Justin Martinez, otherwise known as the other guy from Radio Silence. It eventually becomes too focused on silly looking extraterrestrials and their weirdo powers. However, the aftermath of a skydive trip going horribly wrong is quite effective. “Stowaway” eventually descends into incoherent sci-fi weirdness. However, it's the only segment with a compelling protagonist, in the form of Alanah Pearce's jittery Halley, whose sad past is smartly revealed to the viewer. The far-off extraterrestrial imagery is well done too. The framing device does, if only else, capture the feel of a History Channel special. The finale is creepy but I don't know what it means.

Doing an alien or UFO themed “V/H/S” movie is a fun idea but “V/H/S/Beyond” never manages to match the chill factor of “Incident in Lake County” or “The McPherson Tape.” Both of those movies realized that authenticity and a sense of normality being disrupted are a big factor towards the success of the found footage genre. “V/H/S/Beyond” is far too hyperactive for that, mostly preoccupied with throwing more and more at the viewer in terms of edits and special effects. When you keep pushing out new movies year after year, it leads to a feeling that things must be made fresh to insure audiences are interested. Maybe this is why, the longer a run of “V/H/S” goes on, the more likely the series gets to dropping the elements that make it work in the first place. Does this mean Shudder will take a break or will I be watching another mediocre “V/H/S” sequel come this time next year? It doesn't quite sink to the depths of “V/H/S/Viral” but this series is definitely in need of some fresh blood. [5/10]

Ferat Vampire (1982)

Upír z Feratu

A few years back, I watched “The Cremator," widely regarded as the best horror film made in the country formerly known as Czechoslovakia. That film was directed by Juraj Herz, a Slovak who made most of his work in the Czech language in the part of Europe known today as Czechia. Despite "The Cremator" being banned by the Communist government and facing censorship all throughout his career, Herz would continue to work in the horror and fantastique genres. After being impressed by "The Cremator," I've been wanting to check out some of Herz' other work. While his dark fairy tales – soon to join Severin's folk horror collection – are more acclaimed, another of his titles caught my attention. "Ferat Vampire" is a pun on "Nosferatu" and car brands like Ferrari and Fiat that I'm not sure smoothly translates to English. Nevertheless, the title does make the premise clear: This is a movie about a bloodsucking car. How can anyone resist that? 

Doctor Marek and the nurse he harbors a crush on, Mami, are driving an ambulance to an emergency call. They are nearly involved in an accident with a distinctive looking black spots car. Afterwards, the driver of the vehicle – a woman named Luisa – asked for their help, citing pain in her foot. Not long after that, the car is found crashed with Luisa seemingly dead inside. In the following week, lead-footed Mami is recruited by car manufacturer Ferat to test-drive their new creation. At the same time, a strange man named Kaplan comes to Marek, telling him he believes the Ferat car runs on human blood. Marek is skeptical but, the deeper into this strange mystery he's drawn, the more convinced he becomes this hot new vehicle is guzzling more than gasoline...

If you go into "Ferat Vampire" expecting a "Christine" or "The Car" style flick about a murderous, autonomous vehicle, you're going to be disappointed. The titular speedster is certainly a killer car but it doesn't drive itself or act on its own will. Instead, Herz' film is a grim metaphor about how we're all eager to participate in capitalism despite it slowly draining the life out of us. The Ferat company – led by an ominous older woman known only as Madame Ferat, always accompanied by a beautiful woman in a latex outfit – is well aware that its latest prototype sucks the blood from its driver. Slowly bleeding the owner to death is seen as a fair compromise during an oft-referenced energy crisis. The sensation of driving the car is seen as addictive, the speed it provides making the person behind the wheel euphoric. That's how the company knows people will keep going back to the car that slowly kills them. The allegory is multilayered. It might simply be an elaborate pun about how everyone is "dying to drive in style." However, the idea that we are all forced to own an automobile in order to get to work, to pay our bills and survive – despite vehicular fatalities being so common and it being terrible for the planet – seems to be on the film's mind. "Blood is cheaper than oil" is the central thesis here. That's an implicit criticism of the petrol industry but also of an entire capitalistic network that sucks our will to live the longer we participate in it.

Despite a downbeat tone, I've often seen "Ferat Vampire" referred to as a horror/comedy. This element mostly emerges from the film's self-awareness around how absurd the premise is. Marek spends a good portion of the film incredulous at the idea of a blood sucking car. The character of Kaplan is played as an obviously unhinged conspiracy theorist, dryly laying out utterly absurd notices without hearing how silly he sounds. Despite that, what he says does turn out to mostly be true, meaning "Ferat Vampire" is a movie about watching a seemingly reasonable man be drawn more and more into believing an improbable, but nonetheless factual, corporate ploy. That Herz makes the Ferat company so obviously evil – the designer of the car being a blind mad scientist, all the workers whispering about wicked schemes – further sells the heightened reality of the premise. Certainly more so than the nebbish protagonist having two beautiful women throw themselves at him for no particular reason. Marek is played by a suitably deadpan Jiří Menzel, a notable Czech director in his own right but not exactly the kind of guy you'd expect to be frequently fighting off naked women. 

"Ferat Vampire" is clearly operating on a satiric level while including more blatantly comedic elements, such as a farcical vampire movie the hero watches on TV at one point. Despite that, the film still engineers a slowly escalating mood of creepiness. While not as blatantly nightmarish as "The Cremator," Herz still maintains a distant, at times chilly approach to his characters and scenarios that feel fittingly unreal. The deeper into this mystery Marek is drawn, the more "Ferat Vampire" feels like a bad dream, that our hero has stumbled into a predatory scheme that is slowly closing in on him. This is paired with a droning electronic score that becomes more frantic as the story advances. Within the film are several stand-out shock sequences. An evening of lovemaking on the floor is interrupted by blood flooding around the couple's feet. Marek, in his little compact car, is nearly crushed by two eighteen wheelers, an enactment of a famous urban legend that feels like motor vehicles themselves are part of the conspiracy to end his life. The stand-out sequence is a dream where the hood and engine of the title car is replaced with pulsating, bloody sinew, the kind of visual that you'd expect David Cronenberg to approve of. This is quickly followed up by a top tier fake-out jump scare. That sort of misdirection works better in a movie that constantly keeps you wondering if its evil car is literally alive or not...

I'm by no means a car guy myself. However, I do applaud the production designers of the film for cooking up a vehicle that is both appropriately foreboding while also being believable as a slick car the public might desire. The Vampire's red-on-black color scheme is suitably evocative of blood and darkness but subtle about it. The overhead lights and large fins suggest the eyes and wings of a monstrous bat. The sharp lines of the vehicle and unique way of opening up strike the viewer as thoroughly modern and hip for 1981, while also feeling like something a cartoon supervillain would drive. The prop was a highly modified Škoda 110 Super Sport. That's a prototype that never made it into production, denying the general public a chance to own one. Considering the nature of the Ferat, maybe that's for the best. Artsy, slow, and high-minded, "Ferat Vampire" nevertheless struck me as an interesting and quietly creepy motion picture with lots of interesting ideas on its mind. Juraj Herz was clearly an intriguing talent and I certainly plan to watch more of his work in the future. [7/10]

Goosebumps: Say Cheese  and Die

R.L. Stine is a hack and "Goosebumps" was stupid bullshit for babies but I'll say this much: "Say Cheese and Die" is a great title for a story about a cursed camera. Teenager Greg and his pals, Bird and Shari, sneak into a local abandoned factory. There, a long-haired weirdo named Spidey lives. Inside, they steal a futuristic device that works like an Instamatic Polaroid camera. Except the photos always turn out strangely. A snapshot of Bird shows him going over some stair banisters... Before he actually falls. A photograph of the family's new car features it with a mangled bumper, before it's totaled in a wreck. After a photo of Shari shows her absence, she vanishes in real life. Does the camera merely predict misfortune or does it will the bad luck to happen? And how is Spidey connected to the device? 

Considering "Goosebump" was a show for 6-to-10 year olds, you might not be shocked to learn that "Say Cheese and Die's" title is a lie. Nobody dies. Greg's dad breaking his leg in the car wreck is the only semi-severe thing that happens. Moreover, the camera's properties are sloppily defined. Sometimes the photos directly predict the future, as in the case of Greg going over the bannister. Sometimes it merely suggests it, as with the photo of the torn-up fender. How and why Shari disappears isn't elaborated on and she returns when Greg rips up the photo, the logic of which is never explained. When confronted about it, Spidey only says he invented the camera to predict the future but that it created bad luck instead. This does not square up with the ridiculous fate of the inventor that immediately follows. That the camera looks like some sci-fi laser gun – the kids compare it to a toaster and that's an apt description – doesn't make the episode's events any less goofy. (At least Stine's original book featured a regular-ass camera.)

It's so goofy, in fact, I suspect the cast and crew might be playing things for laughs. Ron Oliver's direction is full of Dutch angles, dramatic close-ups, and nausea-inducing handheld. This episode's claim to infamy is that it stars a young Ryan Gosling, whose performance seems knowingly absurd. Then again, all the characters and acting here is goofy nonsense. Spidey, with his long grey hair and giant goggles, looks like an extra from a cyberpunk movie. Greg's older brother is a stoner-coded himbo. Greg has a nightmare where he photographs his family at a cook-out and sees them all as skeletons in the picture. This scene was inserted into the book only after Tim Jacobus created a bitchin' cover image. Jacobus' artwork was always better than the books they graced but the show's attempt to recreate that silly-but-eerie painting comes up so short, it becomes hilarious.

Whether "Say Cheese and Die" was going for camp or not, it doesn't matter. The result is still a nonsensically written clown show. Like every episode of "Goosebumps" I've watched, there's potential here. The question of whether the camera predicts or controls the future could've been spun into a rumination on the nature of fate and chance. A scene featuring a pushy cop wearing reflective sunglasses, that mirror the lens of the camera, might've meant something. The execution renders it all inconsequential. (The cop is played by Scott Speedman, so Gosling isn't the only cast member here that went onto definitely bigger, debatably better things.) Watching as an adult, the main thing about "Say Cheese and Die" that brought me amusement is how much flannel everyone wears. Truly, it was the nineties. Considering most kids today might not be familiar with an Instamatic, the decade of my youth is where this one should stay. "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" has an episode about a creepy camera too that, by some coincidence, Ron Oliver directed as well. Ryan Gosling also appeared on that show but not that particular installment, so the connection ends there. The episode sucks but the title is still good. [4/10]

The Addams Family: Morticia's Favorite Charity

The Addams may be preposterously rich but at least they give to charity often too. “Morticia's Favorite Charity” has the household's matriarch gathering a lot of the family's strangest items and donating them to a local charity bazaar auction. Mr. Henson – last seen as Gomez' insurance manager in “Crisis in the Addams Family" – is running the auction. Naturally, he's not interested in accepting anything from the Addams, knowing it'll be a bunch of weird stuff. That it is, as Morticia donates many of the family's bizarre relics to the bazaar. Including Pugsley's favorite clock, which leads to a schism between father and son. Hoping to patch things up, Morticia and Gomez both plan on buying the clock back without informing the other of their idea.

I've made mention before of how “The Addams Family” got a lot of value out of its distinctive collection of props. The writers of the series must have noticed this too and decided to, more or less, build a whole episode around wacky objects like that. Classics like the mounted swordfish swallowing a human leg or the moose head with the askew antlers return here. The clock Pugsley misses so much has a roaring wildcat head in place of a cuckoo bird, though the characters insist on calling it a “wolf's head clock.” Probably the biggest sight gags here revolve around Gomez' own favorite timepiece: A moose's ass mounted to the wall, the hour's mark by its tail swishing and the creature bellowing. We also find out that Fester relaxes by wearing a suit of armor. 

Parley Baer, as Henson, makes for a decent enough straight man. Despite watching his wild-eyed reactions to all the crazy shit in the Addams' home feeling like a joke we've seen twenty-eight times before. Still, this episode is not without its amusing moments. The auction makes for a suitably map cap conclusion, husband and wife once again unknowingly playing against each other. Lurch gets a funny line in the latter half, while Fester's suit of armor habit pays off in a couple of decent ways. As far as “Addams Family” episodes go, this one definitely feels phoned-in a little. Still, any show that builds whole sequences around a moose ass sticking out of the wall can't be all bad in my book. [6/10]

Halloween 2024: October 7th

Good Madam (2021)

Last October, I reviewed "Nanny," a textbook example of what can be derisively called "elevated" horror. By which I mean it was a low-key drama about immigration, class, gender and a number of other social issues that, oh yeah, also had some ghosts or something in it. We can debate the merits of this style of filmmaking all we want but we can't deny that it seems to get funded. Surprisingly, "Nanny" was one half of a "Deep Impact/Armageddon" type situation where movies with similar premises get released in the same year. The other 2022 released ambiance-heavy, horror/drama about a woman loosing her mind via supernatural shenanigans, while having a lot of thoughts about black workers and their white masters, was "Good Madam." (Both were directed by women too.) Perhaps the two films being compared represents some ignorance on the behalf of critics. "Nanny" was an American film, made by the child of Sierra Leonan immigrants, specifically about the experiences of a Senegalese immigrant in New York. "Good Madam" was made by South African filmmakers in South Africa, specifically about the class inequalities in the aftermath of apartheid. Aesthetic similarities aside, surely those are two very different ideas reflecting very different cultures. I guess it's time for me to find out, as "Good Madam" is my stopover in South Africa on my Horror Around the World project. 

Tsidi was essentially raised by her grandmother, who has recently passed. Following a dispute with other relatives, Tsidi and Winnie, her nine year old daughter, become homeless. With few other options, she seeks out her estranged mother, Mavis. The reason the two don't talk much is Mavis has devoted her life to being the live-in maid to Diane, a rich and bedridden white woman. Living in that house is difficult for Tsidi, as Mavis enforces strict rules for her catatonic master's benefit. Tsidi begins to have strange visions and dreams in the home. She discovers unnerving evidence that the white owners of this household have used witchcraft to enslave their workers into the afterlife. When Tsidi's half-brother – who is as devoted to Diane as Mavis is – arrives, the curse closes in further. 

The end of slavery in the United States – insomuch as slavery can be said to have ended – led white institutions to new forms of racial oppression to keep brown people as a subjected underclass that, despite progress in many places, continues to this day. While America's commitment to its racist foundations are unlikely to be uprooted totally, white South African authorities have been especially odious in keeping class lines defined by color. Into the post-apartheid era, the white minority remains the ruling class in most areas. This is exactly what "Good Madam" is about. Tsidi's mother is so devoted to her white employee that she has long neglected her own children. With the ring of a bell, Mavis rushes to Diane's side no matter the time or day. Moreover, she confines her own daughter and granddaughter to the tiny, worker's bedroom, instead of any of the empty rooms in the spacious house. The reveal that the white landowners exert a literal magical control over their black employees is the horror movie metaphor for the institutional structures that keep one group of people the masters and the others the slaves. When Tsidi uncovers the neglected, hidden graveyard on the grounds for deceased workers – all of them identified by their job in the household – it presents the scariest idea the film has. Even in death, Tsidi's family are not free of this slavery. 

Like many modern horror films that put their social subtext so upfront, the inclusion of horror elements in "Good Madam" feel almost unnecessary. Like "Nanny," "Master," and a few other titles I could mention, the film pushes most of its horror elements into two corners: A lingering ambiance of unease and nightmarish vision the heroine has. The former manifest as a well done sound design that emphasizes long silence broken by unexpected noises and sinister long-shots of the mundane – but subtly not-quite-right – interiors of the home. As for the latter attempts at more straight ahead jolts... There's a moment where Tsidi has a panic attack after getting locked into the servant's quarters, that represents probably the scariest moments in the film. The frenzied editing and ramping sound design accurately captures the feeling of anxiety overtaking your brain. Another good moment has Tsidi's hand dropping off totally unexpectedly, an uncanny special effect that is deployed sharply. However, the film never does as good of a job as taking us inside the protagonist's head as it needs to, in order to make the sanity slippage aspect to become truly terrifying. This is probably because "Good Madam" always keeps its characters at arms length. We never actually find out what Mavis feels about her employer or her own daughter. Tsidi is reasonably well fleshed-out but everyone around her feels more like an expression of an idea than a flesh-and-blood person. 

Long stretches of "Good Madam" are infected with this frustrating vagueness. Certain elements of Tsidi's past are revealed in partially fragmented flashbacks, making it difficult at times to figure out the exact flow of events. The magical rituals and devices at work are kept frustrating unexplained. This peaks during a confusing climax. The half-brother enters far too late into the film to make an impression but ends up having big ramifications on its story. I couldn't quite grasp what exactly was happening in the final ritual, which is further disguised by a fragmented shooting style. This leads to a more obscure resolution, that left me scratching my head more than anything else. To discover that director Jenna Bass is white makes the last scene feel like an admittance of her own role in the institutional racism of her country. Which is as valid a point as any but does nothing to beat the feeling that "Good Madam" is more interested in its ideas than telling a compelling narrative full of characters we love and care about. By the time the movie is throwing some explosive body horror into the mix, the sense that the horror movie side of this script and the social drama side never fully connect. 

And that's a bummer. The first hour or so of "Good Madam" is promising. Chumisa Cosa gives a good performance as Tsidi, expressing a lot of inner turmoil with her wide eyes. The scenes when she has casual, relaxed conversations with her mother shows the depth of their bond, despite all the strife between them. Similarly, a moment depicting Mavis' cruel disapproval of her daughter is effectively upsetting. If the focus remained on the fraught relationship between mother and daughter, the result probably would've been a stronger last act. Instead, the focus turns towards the spells and the evil old woman in the upstairs bedroom, a threat that never feels pertinent no matter how much time the script spends building her up. Bass and Cosa are talents to watch. "Good Madam" has complex, intriguing ideas at its disposal. I wish it was a little more invested in telling a story though... [6/10]

Snuff (1976)

Snuff movies do not exist or so authorities say. The belief that an underground industry devoted to the production and distribution of real murder movies sprung up in the sixties. Of course, death has been captured on-camera. Ghastly accidents, political assassinations, and acts of war are often recorded but usually by happenstance. Serial killers and terrorist sects have filmed themselves committing murder. According to the official definition, these do not count as snuff films, as they were not created specifically for commercial sale. In our modern age of mass shooters livestreaming their rampages or child pornographers circulating the most vile stuff imageable via the deep web, this definition feels increasingly narrow. Whether true snuff can be said to exist or not, the legend got highly publicized in 1976. That's when Allan Shackleton acquired the rights to “The Slaughter,” a low-budget flick made in Argentina in 1971. Previously deemed unreleasable, Shackleton had the idea to tag on a final scene supposedly depicting a “real” murder and building the entire advertising campaign around it. This included hiring fake protestors to picket outside theaters. The scheme worked extremely well, attracting national attention, public condemnation, and lots of box office. An exploitation movie that probably would've been quickly forgotten otherwise had now secured a place in horror/cult movie history. 

“The Slaughter” depicted a group of hippy she-bikers terrorizing the Argentina country side. They are led by a sadistic ringleader named Satán, who supplies them with drugs, demands total obedience, and enforces his rules with torture. Meanwhile, actress Terri London has come to Buenos Aires to shoot a movie with her director boyfriend, Max Marsh. London's career is on the skids and Marsh, a producer of sexploitation films, hopes to resurrect it. London is also cheating on Marsh with a rich playboy named Horst Frank, whose father owns a mansion near-by. One of Satán's followers works on the grounds, giving the murderous cult a way into the affluent home. London is also pregnant, which becomes the center of a bizarre sacrifice. Then the final scene arrives and changes the context of everything that came before...

“The Slaughter” was the work of husband/wife filmmaking team Michael and Roberta Findlay. The two had previously found success in the New York film scene making “roughies,” softcore sex flicks that emphasized sadism and depravity. Among enthusiasts of this disreputable genre, Findlay films like “Take Me Naked,” “The Touch of Her Flesh,” and “Janie” seem well regarded for their artsy cinematography, transgressive content, and sordid tones. You can definitely see this element at work in “Snuff.” A long digression in the middle of the film involves Satán initiating a girl into his cult via bondage and rough sex, mostly depicted through a close-up on her contorting face while the freakier girls watch and get off. This proceeds a meandering flashback, in which another of his followers describes a youth filled with sexual violence and death. Many of these scenes are shot in muted color, with odd camera angles, creating a tone that suggests grindhouse sleaziness mixed with arthouse pretensions. 

By the same accord, it's easy to see why distributors passed on “The Slaughter” for so many years. This is an extremely crude film in every meaning of the word. It was shot without sound, forcing the entire production to be dubbed in post. The result is that the dialogue never matches the movement of the mouths. The voiceovers provided range from flat and bored to hilariously booming and melodramatic. As interesting as the cinematography can be, it's also extremely rough in other spots. There's lots of shaky crash-zooms and meandering handheld footage of Carnivale celebration. Moreover, the film barely has a story. The scenes devoted to Terri London's career and love affairs are utterly tedious. Satán and his girls terrorize and kill indiscriminately, such as a scene where they confront and murder a grocery store owner and his daughter for the hell of it. This leaves the film little in the way of forward momentum, “Snuff” truly being one of those B-movies best describe as a series of barely connected scenes. 

As incoherent and incompetent as “Snuff” largely is, there is something oddly hypnotic about it. The Findlays' background in skin flicks is obvious, as the movie is full of casual nudity and sex scenes. Whether the encounters are consensual or more of Satán's sadistic head games, there is a grimy feel to it all. The entire movie is scored to rambling, fuzzy guitar rock, including a soundalike of “Born to Be Wild” that kicks in during any of the motorcycle scenes. The gore effects are never that convincing, with plenty of bright orange stage blood. The script is blatantly inspired by the Manson family – who, coincidently or not, are also wrapped up in the origins of the snuff movie myth – and the Tate-LaBianca murders. That gives everything that follows a depraved tone, of crass exploitation of a true crime by low-skill filmmakers who know to pack their sleazy claptrap with as much flesh and blood as possible. For fans of sleazy grindhouse faire, this is exactly the kind of edgy, unseemly, strangely compelling work we're looking for. “The Slaughter” probably was never going to be a “good” movie but imagining watching it with a rowdy 42nd Street crowd does create a certain irresistibly low-brow feeling. 

Which brings us to that notorious final scene. Directed by Simon Nuchtern – who'd later make a slasher fave of mine, “Silent Madness” – years after the rest of the movie was shot, no attempt is made to match the doomed “actress” with Mirtha Massa, who plays Terry London. The filmmaking technique is inconsistent, cutting haphazardly between the omniscient third-person cinematography typical of movies and cinéma vérité style camerawork. The gore effects are unconvincing, clipped off fingers looking rubbery and obvious animal intestines being pulled from an obvious dummy. Despite all these shortcomings, there is a sickening sort of frenzy to the sequence. The way everyone on the film set immediately jumps in to “murder” a girl, the boom operator and script girl assisting in holding her down while she's cut up, creates an unpleasant feeling. The scenario could never be mistaken for real life but the idea – an innocent lured into a spontaneous murder – is unsettling. The best thing “Snuff” does is end by having the film run out, the crew heard chattering before a stark cut to black. No credits, no warning, simply an abrupt end. If the gore effects were better and the blending of reality and fiction more convincing, “Snuff's” ending would certainly be chilling. As inept as it is, you can still feel a distressing power emanating from this climax. 

The result is, well, certainly something. “The Slaughter” is grimy, Z-grade filmmaking. It has little redeeming value on its own yet can't help but be involving through the grit and determination of the filmmakers and their ability to capture a genuine air of depravity. The “Snuff” framing device, meanwhile, accidentally pushed the boundaries of the medium. Once you start to interrogate how film blurs the “real” and the “fake,” not to mention making the tactile quality of cinema itself part of the experience, very interesting opportunities opens up.  Not that “Snuff” in any way capitalizes on that, being the work of cynical exploitation schlock-meister looking to make a fast buck. Nevertheless, this is a curious genre oddity that can't be entirely dismissed. Michael Findlay would die a year after “Snuff's” release in a freak helicopter accident but Roberta Findlay would continue to make movies afterwards. Some of her eighties horror films and a few of her hardcore pornos have been the subject of critical essays and genre retrospectives. All of this and more implies that perhaps something worthy of discussion is lurking under “Snuff's” distasteful exterior. [7/10]

Monsters: Mannikens of Horror

Earlier this season, I watched an episode of "Thriller" adapted from a story by Robert Bloch. This is not especially notable, as Bloch's work was easily adaptable to the anthology format. About thirteen different shows have used one of his stories for inspiration. This was still going on as late as 1988. That's when the penultimate episode of "Monsters'" first season adapted his story, "Mannikens of Horror." Dr. Collin was a gifted surgeon during the war but now resides in a mental hospital. His nervous conditions are exacerbated by the cruel Dr. Starr. To soothe the hallucinations of his body coming part, Collin sculpts small, highly detailed anatomy mannequins. Another doctor named Jarrett takes pity on him but she can't stop Starr from destroying the mannequins... That's when Collin's claim that his little sculptures come to life and share a psychic connection to him is proven to be true.

If this episode sounds familiar, that's because Bloch's story was previously adapted as a segment in the Amicus omnibus, "Asylum." The "Monsters" version improves on the Amicus take in a few ways. It takes us much further into Collin's world. William Prince's soft spoken performance makes the doctor seem like a very sad man. The cold, concrete hospital – looking more like a prison – makes us feel his isolation more. A sequence where Collin sees his hand detaches from his body is shot from his perspective, showing us how upsetting his hallucinations are. Later, Collin suffers from horrible noise sensitivity, which is depicted by an effectively deafening cacophony. It is clear that his sculptures provide his only relief in this cruel setting. When Dr. Starr takes that away from him, you truly feel for the guy. Prince's anguished wails really sell the pain he feels in that moment. 

The second way this "Mannikens of Horror" improves on the 1972 take is simply by being creepier. The classic horror morality tale structure is maintained. Dr. Starr is a raging bastard, played with perfect slimy cruelty by Brian Brophy. He sexually harasses Dr. Jarrett too. As big of an asshole as this guy is, his comeuppance still made me wince. His final fate – a letter opener shoved into a very sensitive spot – is surprisingly gory by 1988 television standards. This proceeds a twist ending, one you anticipated that is nevertheless smoothly constructed, that is far more grotesque in its violence. The stop motion effects used to bring the little clay models to life are surprisingly good as well. They look on par with the early, good Full Moon movies, to me. Stop motion perfectly captures the uncanny effect needed to make these little homunculi – resembling tiny, nude, grey humans with few defined features – creepy. "Monsters" was usually pretty campy but, when it went full-throttle, it could be an excellent horror series. This is the best episode I've seen yet. [8/10]

The Addams Family: My Son, the Chimp

"The Addams Family" would fall back on one of the principal rules of comedy as we got into the home stretch of the first season: Monkeys are funny. "My Son, the Chimp" begins with Pugsley feeling a little ignored, as everybody else in the family is too busy to watch his card trick. At the same time, an organ grinder's chimpanzee happens to wander off and climb into the Addams home. Pugsley adopts the little guy and next attempts to get Uncle Fester, who's currently practicing spellcasting, interested in his card trick. There's a burst of smoke, Pugsley ends up in a secret room, and the chimp is teleported next to Fester. The family naturally believes that their son has been turned into the primate, unaware he's simply behind a trap door. More monkey business ensues as they attempt to unravel the truth. 

"My Son, the Chimp" is one of the few "Addams Family" episodes that seems to be attempting some sort of moral. At the story's beginning, everyone is too busy to pay attention to Pugsley. Gomez is fishing in the piranha tank, Wednesday is playing chess with Thing, Morticia is painting, Fester is communing with the spirits. The son feels neglected and then, as far as the rest of the family knows, gets turned into a damn dirty ape. This apparent crisis should bring into sharp focus how much the family actually cares about the boy. Of course, this is a wacky sitcom much more concerned with gags than character arcs, so that doesn't quite happen. However, you can see an attempt was made. The theme continues into the last joke, which now has Wednesday getting involved in some weird business. (Having a childish "boyfriend" who happens to be invisible.)

As you probably guessed, this is a wacky episode even by the standards of this show. Thing performing charades is an important plot point, preceding an amusing gag about comic books. (This scene also confirms that Thing's boxes are connected by a series of tunnels.) Fester's attempt at magic leads to more teleporting by the end. Obviously, the chimpanzee is used for easy laughs too, largely via animal reaction shots. The fast-paced dialogue among the cast does end up elevating what probably would be a desperate set-up, with the séance sequence featuring some nicely manic instructions. Also, this episode sees Pugsley referencing Gorgo the Gorilla, a rare example of continuity in this series. Once again, I'll say it's not a bad episode but I think "The Munsters" did the same premise, of a little boy seemingly getting turned into a chimp, slightly better. [6/10]

Halloween 2024: October 6th

Juan of the Dead (2011)

Juan de los muertos

When I first started to grow into an insufferable horror nerd in my teen years, obviously I fell in love with the films of the seventies and eighties. Of all the subgenres that had fallen out of popularity since then, the zombie movie was the one I most wanted to see revived. “Dawn of the Dead,” “Return of the Living Dead,” “Re-Animator,” “The Evil Dead,” and so on where the cornerstones of my obsession. Most unexpectedly, I actually got my wish. With the 2004 remake of “Dawn of the Dead” proving popular, a new wave of undead cinema would spring up in the middle of the decade. Zombies became so popular that, amazingly and unexpectedly, I quickly got sick of them. We haven't gotten a fresh approach to the subject since then. The power of the gut-muncher fad was undeniable though, the infection spreading to other countries. At the start of the next decade, the first zombie movie from Cuba would shamble onto our shores. My ambivalence to brain-eating flicks by then meant I never caught up with “Juan of the Dead” but I'd be remised to skip the Caribbean during this October trip around the world. 

Forty-something slacker Juan goes about his life in Havana, performing various schemes and criminal mischief to make cash. His cohorts include perverted best friend Lazaro, Lazaro's son California, flamboyant homosexual La China, and his hemophobic lover Primo. Juan hopes to impress his disenfranchised daughter, Camila, who is visiting from abroad. While out fishing one day, Juan and Lazaro come across an undead corpse. They dismiss it as a fluke incident but, soon, the city is overwhelmed by flesh-ripping zombies. The apathetic government blaming the violence on dissidents and the Americans, Juan and his gang see an opportunity: They set-up a zombie killing business, making money to take care of the recently revived. 

Writer/director Alejandro Brugués clearly delights in placing the zombie genre within the local color of Havana. Despite that, the characters from this socialist country approach the undead pandemic with a very capitalistic mindset. The most novel idea in “Juan of the Dead” is a group of opportunistic grifters seeing this apocalyptic scenario, not as the end of the world, but as a chance to make some dough. Juan and his friends are part of an underclass, struggling to make a living through usually underhanded acts. When zombie movies are too often weirdo survivalist fantasies, it's charming to see a group of characters approach it so cynically. This joke is elevated by Juan and his friends being mostly incompetent dip-shits, making up everything as they go along. They advertise their business with hand-written fliers, for one example. It's a genuinely clever approach to a well-worn premise.

The title of “Juan of the Dead” probably gives the impression that it's a Cuban response to “Shaun of the Dead.” I suppose the two movies are connected by their premise of slackers trying to survive a zombie outbreak. The two don't have much in common beyond that. Namely, as much as Shaun and Ed might've been arrested man-children, they remained likable, fully fleshed-out characters. Juan is a much more generic wannabe, his hope of winning his daughter over being his sole source of character development. His friends and partners never get that much, being nothing more than thinly sketched stereotypes. “Juan of the Dead” also has a crude, dude-bro tone that the comparatively cuddly “Shaun” avoided. Lazaro is sex-obsessed, masturbating in public at one point. La China is a broad stereotype of an effeminate gay man. It might not surprise you to read this is but one of many insensitive jokes directed at gay men. Only one scene manages to subvert this homophobic behavior in any sort of funny way. Otherwise, it's a lot of slurs getting tossed around. 

“Shaun of the Dead” also balanced its comedy between broader gags, razor sharp dialogue, deadpan delivery, and a surprisingly sincere sentimental side. “Juan of the Dead” doubles-down on the wackiness instead. This is fun, some of the times. A sequence where a rescuer appears, decapitating a whole crowd of zombies with a harpoon and a cable, is well done. That pays off in a good gag as well. An earlier scene, where Juan and Lazaro confront a zombified old man in an apartment, escalates in some amusingly silly ways. Another highlight involves an impromptu tango with a dead body. However, the film is sometimes too proud of its own outrageousness. When a heroine is doing kung-fu flips on a zombie, that feels too self-satisfied. The script's inability to build its characters' up means it never develops much of a heart. This pairs with a somewhat directionless narrative, the film feeling more like a series of gags strung together than a coherent whole as it moves towards an underwhelming climax.

“Juan of the Dead” has a number of funny moments, many of which are born from its amusing premise. There is something to be said for a zombie movie where the “heroes” are such depraved, nasty little con-men. However, the film can't maintain that energy and its cast of character never truly come to life. Despite its middle-of-the-road quality, “Juan of the Dead” did provide a great launching pad for Alejandro Brugués' career. He's contributed to several anthology features and television shows, which feels like a result of his name ending up in Mick Garris' rolodex. Weirdly, he hadn't directed another proper feature until just this year, when the long delayed “The Inheritance” finally came out. At least two more horror films have been made in Cuba since then, though none have attracted the level of attention this one did. It's a bummer that Brugués' film is closer to forgettable also-rans like “Undead” than genre-defining cult classics like “Shaun of the Dead,” because it is cool to see Cuban culture represented in this way on-screen. [6/10]

Killdozer! (1974)

If you search the internet for fun-to-say nonsense compound word “Killdozer” in 2024, most of the results will be about Marvin Heemeyer. If you don't know, that was a muffler repair shop owner who, in 2004, transformed a bulldozer into a home-made tank and rampaged through the town of Granby, Colorado. This was Heemeyer's elaborate revenge for several petty property disputes. Building an enormous death machine in your garage is a rare real world example of unhinged supervillainy but that hasn't stopped Heemeyer from becoming an idol to a certain breed of right-wing anti-government weirdo. Anyway, I'm not here to talk about that asshole. Sixty years before all that happened, prolific sci-fi author Theodore Sturgeon wrote a novella called “Killdozer,” about a bulldozer that kills people. Thirty years after that, the story was adapted into an ABC Movie of the Week. Probably owing to that perfectly schlocky title, the film has remained a minor cult classic since then. 

Eons ago, a meteor crashes to Earth on an isolated island. In the modern day, a construction team is deployed to the island. Head foreman Kelly and bulldozer operator Mack unknowingly uncovers the space debris. Mack strikes the meteor with the blade of the bulldozer, a blue light overtaking the equipment. Mack is electrocuted by the event, the bulldozer emitting a weird humming noise. Following that, more bizarre accidents unfold around the motorized equipment. Kelly is hesitant to believe it at first but, as more of his men are killed by the dozer, the truth becomes unavoidable: A malevolent intelligent has taken over the machine and is determined to wipe out everything living on the island. 

To be totally frank, it's an idea that a little kid would have. How often do you see children playing with toys of trucks and construction vehicles, imbuing them with personality? And how often are those personalities basically dinosaurs? What I'm saying is, there is something within the human psyche that sees a smoke-belching piece of growling machinery – that wrecks everything in its path with a massive serrated blade – and goes "Monster!" "Killdozer!," from the punctuated title on-down, does everything an early seventies television budget can to follow through on this idea. The killdozer has reflective headlights that work as eyes, blinking ominously at several points. The roar of the engine stands in place for otherworldly vocalizations. As a little kid would, the movie gives the possessed Caterpillar a villainous cunning too. One of the first things our humble killdozer does is crush the only two-way radio on the island. Many critics have derided this motion picture as having a ridiculous set-up, which is technically true. However, I can't help but feel those writers have lost touch with their inner six year old boy, who picks up a plastic bulldozer and immediately growls as they smash a wall of blocks with it. 

The film shows fidelity to that child-like premise in other ways too. Sturgeon's story features a convoluted backstory for the titular adversary, involving an ancient war in Earth's pre-history and aliens made of pure energy. The film dismisses all of that. The bulldozer hits a magic rock, becomes self-aware, and immediately goes on a killing spree. No further explanation is necessary. The way the plot progresses from there also feels like what a seven year old boy would cook up. Essentially, the Killdozer separates the group of workers and kills them off one-by-one, until only two remain. There's little in the way of suspense or narrative flow to it, the script simply moving from one set piece to the next. The movie is a lot like its mechanical villain in that sense, rolling on and crushing what is in its path with little forethought beyond that. The proper climax of the story involves Killdozer and a steam shovel facing off, which is also what a small child would do. The contrivance cooked up to kill the monster is as nonsensical a solution as you'd expect from a kid too. 

It's hard to doubt that the creative team – including director Jeremy London, kicking off a long career in television – were unaware of how silly the movie is. There's a definite sense of camp in the script. The characters are all exaggerated macho men. They grouse, drink, bullshit about women and their past adventures, and shed manly tears when one of them die. The latent homoeroticism of a bunch of hard men getting sweaty together all day is further emphasized by the total lack of women anywhere in the movie. Sorry, ladies, killing a killdozer is man's work. The cast is filled with grizzled character actors, doing their thing. Neville Brand plays a folksy mechanic named Chubs, Robert Urich is the fresh-faced newbie that goes first, and Carl Betz is the grumpy weaver of unlikely yarns. Cowboy actor Clint Walker is the only one who gets anything like a character arc, as his foreman is a recovering alcoholic. It's a plot point that never amounts to much. However, I am not beyond the simple joys of watching the stone-faced Clint and a red-necked Brand stare longingly into each other's eyes in-between scenes of an evil bulldozer smashing shit. 

In other words, "Killdozer!" pairs its limited resources to limited ambitions. The result is a modest success. Watching a killdozer crush pipes and other vehicles is a simple pleasure. The entire movie is over in seventy minutes too, ensuring the standard presentation and bare minimum of suspense is less of a problem. Such a short runtime makes this feel like a dumber episode of "Night Gallery" that picked up an extra fifteen minutes somewhere. It's what "Duel" might have been, if someone less talented than Steven Spielberg had directed it. (The two films share a stunt coordinator.) I can see why the critical establishment dismissed this as merely another troth full of made-for-TV slop but also why the bored kids who watched it never forgot it. The legacy of "Killdozer!" includes a Marvel Comics adaptation with a hilarious cover, a rock band taking its name, and numerous references on "Mystery Science Theater 3000."  I'm surprised the film was never featured on that show. It would've fit right in. Anyway, isn't all of that much more charming than some libertarian shit heel with a grudge, a vision from God, and an excess of concrete, steel plates, and guns? Eh, maybe, maybe not. [6/10]

Are You Afraid of the Dark?: The Tale of the Dream Girl

I barely watched "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" as a kid and feel as if I missed the boat on what a lot of people consider a pivotal piece of gateway horror. So I keep returning to the series, despite being underwhelmed by it more often than not. "Tale of the Dream Girl" concerns brother and sister Johnny and Erica, who work together at a bowling alley. While cleaning out his locker after work, Johnny finds a girl's class ring and slips it on without thinking. He soon finds he can't remove the ring. Next, he starts to have dreams about a beautiful girl in a letterman jacket named Donna. It's not long before he starts to see her in his waking life too. Donna beckons to Johnny to come with her. Erica discovers that a girl named Donna Maitland, who looks just like Johnny's dream girl, died when her boyfriend's car stalled on train tracks and she ran back to retrieve her ring. Is an otherworldly seductress trying to take Erica's brother away or is something else happening here? 

"Tale of the Dream Girl" is probably the best episode of "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" I've seen thus far. That might be because, instead of going for hokey kid-friendly scares, this episode is seeking something more melancholic. Donna's ghost is alluring, not grotesque, and Johnny is as drawn to her as he is unnerved. The dream scenes are effectively odd, especially when the two meet at the bowling snack bar which has transforms into a fifties-style diner. When the backstory of Donna is revealed, the episode starts to feel like an old school teenage tragedy ballad or a classic ghost story, a fitting tone to capture. 

There's a twist ending, one that I'm not sure entirely makes sense. However, it fits the thematic point of the story: This is ultimately a tale about closely bonded siblings growing apart as they get older. Johnny is pulled away from Erica by a beautiful girl his own age. And how common is it for siblings to drift away after the older one discovers romance? It also helps that the lead performance are better than the campy style this show usually employs. Fab Filipo – who would go on to play Buffy's most forgettable love interest – and Andrea Nemeth have decent chemistry together and seem to invest the material with some sincerity. The result is a fittingly sad but bittersweet half-hour with just enough spooky atmosphere to give the young ones' the shivers. Are there more episodes of "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" like this? [7/10]

The Addams Family: The Addams Family and the Spacemen

The same night Pugsley is launching some missiles, the Addams Family decides to do a midnight snail hunt and picnic. On the radio, they hear reports of unidentified flying objects in the area. At the same time, the Mysterious Space Objects headquarters – a government agency watching out for and attempting to communicate with extraterrestrials – receive news of UFO sightings near Cemetery Ridge. Two officers, Hinckley and Gilbert, are deployed to investigate. Naturally, they quickly find the Addams and assume them to be the Martian visitors. The Addams make the same assumption of the military men, especially after they use a bizarre language the operation's head researcher has cooked up. The misunderstandings only get wackier from there. 

"The Spacemen" at least finds a new angle from which to approach this show's primary joke. The MSO men are confused and frightened by the Addams' habits but have to continue to be polite and accepting, for the sake of intergalactic peace. The Addams, meanwhile, are responding to what they see as strange behavior in a similar way. This two-way misunderstanding does provide a handful of chuckles, such as when Gomez attempts to communicate in the invented Martian language. It ends in a predictable fashion, especially in an overly broad scenes where the same stock footage of Kitty Cat descending the stairs is utilized. At least Tim Herbert and Jimmy Cross are decent straight men as the officers. Vito Scotti – who previously appeared in "The Addams Family Meet the VIPs" and "Art and the Addams Family," as totally different characters – does a funny German accent as the division's eccentric head scientist. He also says "Shalom" to Lurch, so at least we know he isn't one of those German rocket scientists... 

As I've observed many times, this show is funnier when it stays within the Addams' world. The scenes of the family on their night time picnic sees the puns flying fast and loose. There's a whole sequence built around the pleasures and perils of "moon bathing." Cousin Itt is back in this episode, dancing to radio static and developing a good rapport with Lurch. It's interesting that this show reliably gets laughs out of basically nonverbal characters, isn't it? Oddly, despite that being the obvious implication, the show never outwardly stays that Pugsley's rockets are the cause of the UFO reports in the first place. Not a bad episode but I did think "The Munsters'" version of this same premise was slightly funnier. [7/10]

Halloween 2024: October 5th

The Wizard of Gore (1970)

How well known is Herschell Gordon Lewis outside the realm of sicko horror fans? Probably not all that much. The outrageous, if deeply unconvincing, gore of his movies and the strangely hypnotic quality of his slipshod productions makes his work, one imagines, utterly unappealing to anyone without a taste for Z-budget trash cinema or an interest in the history of American exploitation films. However, the fans of Lewis' bloody anti-masterpieces do include some high-profile filmmakers. John Waters including a clip from “Blood Feast” in “Serial Mom” probably introduced a lot of people to the Godfather of Gore. Similarly, an entire generation likely learned about H.G.L. when Diablo Cody had Juno watch “The Wizard of Gore” and declare it better than “Suspiria.” If any Lewis production has penetrated the wider cultural zeitgeist, the way the demented villains of his films have penetrated the bodies of so many victims, it's probably that one. I was underwhelmed by “Wizard of Gore” when I went through my own edgy teenage era and have never revisited it since, unlike the other Lewis movies I actively enjoy. More than enough time has passed for me to reconsider this one and determine if I think it's better than “Suspiria” too or if Juno MacGuff was a fucking idiot. 

A stage magician named Montag the Magnificent begins to attract quite a following because of his grotesquely violent performances. Montag takes volunteers from the audience and brutally dismembers them right on stage, before everyone's eyes. Afterwards, the people the viewers saw horribly murdered appear totally fine. However, the ghastly wounds Montag's “illusions” wreak on his victims have a tendency to catch up with them a few hours later. Talk show host Sherry Carson becomes fascinated with Montag. She drags her boyfriend, journalist Jack, to see his act several times. The two begin to wonder if Montag is himself the murderer or if his violent act is merely inspiring a copycat psychopath. Sherry ultimately invites Montag onto her talk show, exposing a mass audience to the Wizard of Gore's phantasmic violence.

Many horror films, over the years, have been accused of being nothing but an excuse for a series of elaborate, gory special effects sequence. This is usually an extremely unfair statement to make but it's actually fairly accurate when it comes to Herschell Gordon Lewis movies. With “The Wizard of Gore,” a director who never had much in the way of pretenses abandons even those. The meat of this motion picture – if you'll excuse a pun – is made up of Montag's bloody on-stage executions. He chainsaws a girl in half and hammers a spike into another girl's head until her eyeball pops out. Sword swallowing becomes a gruesome display and an industrial hole punch machine is applied to human flesh. Each of these gore scenes are accomplished largely by tossing fake blood and animal intestines onto the actors. As always, the effect is sickening if laughably unrealistic. The fake heads or body parts used could never be mistaken for the real thing. 

Usually, the crudeness of Lewis' gore effects are an indicator of the overall quality of his productions. The shotgun blunt editing, awkward framing, wooden acting, surreal dialogue, overwhelming musical scores, and incoherent scripts frequently combine to make accidentally charming oddball experiences. The director had been making movies for a decade by the time he got to “The Wizard of Gore,” at least his thirty-first directorial credit. Lewis' skills hadn't improved much in all that time but, hard as it is to believe, “Wizard of Gore” is probably one of his more polished productions. The framing is mostly on-center. The editing is not too inept. The musical score never drowns out the dialogue. The scenes of heroine Sherry and her boyfriend talking feature baffling dialogue that quickly becomes hilarious, to the point that it feels intentional. “The Wizard of Gore” certainly still contains that perversely charming anti-charisma that defines the filmmaker's best work. Compared to “Blood Feast” though, it functions more like a real movie! Lewis clearly learned something from “A Taste of Blood,” keeping the tedious scenes of people talking in boardrooms to a minimum. 

When I first saw “Wizard of Gore” as a teenager, it having less shoddy production values than Lewis' other movies was actually a mark against it. My taste have, indeed, evolved some in the years since. “The Wizard of Gore” is still a fascinating excursion into H.G.L.'s inexplicable story logic. There's a meandering subplot about Montag stealing bodies from the graveyard and morgue, usually depicted in red-tinted dream scenes I think, that never go anywhere. The exact mechanics of the villain's powers are never defined. No motive for his murderous actions is established. The script is largely composed of repetitive dialogue scenes, as the heroes bumble towards having some sort of confrontation with Montag. A reoccurring image of blood dripping from hands is the script's best attempt at foreshadowing and it doesn't make any damn sense at all. The result is as stupefying and mesmerizing as Lewis' best – or “best” anyway – movies are.  The gore auteur was never after more than making a quick buck but, sometimes, that accidentally resulted in art of some kind. 

At least, that was what Lewis always claimed anyway. If you watch enough of his films, you see that he was more creatively invested in his horror movies than his statements to the contrary imply. “The Wizard of Gore” contains what I think might be an attempt at themes. Montag's grandiose monologues, delivered with some actual campy flair by Ray Sager, go on and on about the nature of reality and fantasy, of performance and genuine action. This leads towards an incoherent, and quite funny, non-twist that sums up the movie's frequent dream-like atmosphere. However, Lewis was clearly going for something here. How Montag's supposedly fake acts of violence then result in real acts of violence seems like loose commentary on the nature of filmmaking itself. Moviemaking presents fake images to the viewer as if they were real, which Montag does to his own audience. That the villain is hypnotizing all his customers into seeing something other than objective reality is comparable to how the moving image tricks us into believing the unreal, if only for a second. Moreover, the magician's criticism of people being drawn to watch violent acts feels like biting-the-hand comments directed at the sickos who watch the director's films. Despite his clear lack of aesthetic talent, all of this suggests Lewis was extremely self-aware. 

That thematic thread has made “The Wizard of Gore” one of the better reviewed of Lewis' gore movies. It also led to a shockingly pretentious remake, which I'll probably have to review some day because Crispin Glover hams it up as Montag. The first time I watched this one, I was definitely into it more for the unintentional laughs than the ruminations on the nature of reality, fantasy, violence, and movie-making. As an adult, these ideas do tickle my brain. When wrapped up in the usual lack of plausible special effects, narrative coherence, or sturdy visuals, it makes “The Wizard of Gore” as bewitchingly inscrutable an experience as anything else the Godfather of Gore unleashed on the world. “Two Thousand Maniacs” is more coherent in its ideas, “Something Weird” is crazier and “Blood Feast” is funnier. Still, “The Wizard of Gore” ranks up there as one of the director's more brain-itch-inducing films. Better than “Suspiria?” Fuck no, what kind of crack was Juno smoking? But I did like it. [7/10]

Tall Shadows of the Wind (1979)

Sayehaye bolande bad

Not a lot of horror movies come out of what we, as Americans, think of as "the Middle East." There is, without a doubt, a cinematic legacy in the Persian Gulf. Iran, in particular, has an active and healthy film industry. Iranian art dramas often play festivals and get picked up by global distributors. This still only represents a small fraction of the commercial filmmaking done in the country, most of which is rarely exported. Horror usually falls under that banner. That means the handful of Iranian genre films that do exist are difficult to find, much less with English subtitles. A few examples have made it over here though. Probably the most acclaimed Iranian horror film is Bahman Farmanara's 1979 folk tale, "Tall Shadows of the Wind." Made in the midst of the Islamic Revolution, the film was quickly banned by the government and remained obscure for years. Rediscovered by scholars more recently, the film has had many repertoire screenings. A DVD with subtitles must've been released at some point and that print – a bit dark and washed-out but watchable – circulates on the usual corners of the internet. 

The residents of an isolated village in the Iranian countryside erect a scarecrow at the edge of town. They assign mystical beliefs to the sentry, praying to it to protect them. Abdullah, the town bus driver, has engine trouble one day. He wanders up to the scarecrow and, casually, draws a face similar to his own on it. Afterwards, people around town report having frightening encounters with the scarecrow. It is said to appear in the shadows, causing women to have miscarriages, driving the elderly to madness, and forcing some to perform bizarre rituals. The village is soon paralyzed with fear of the entity. Abdullah and his friend, school teacher Mohammad, remain skeptical. With everyone else too frightened to stand up against this supernatural overseer, Abdullah takes it upon himself to stop it. 

Early on in "Tall Shadows of the Wind," there is a long sequence of lingering shots of the castle overlooking the village while sounds of people chanting play over it. This immediately establishes an eerie atmosphere. We never see the scarecrow actually move on-screen. Instead, it simply appears in different locations. Its presence is suggested with shadows or far-off sounds of something moving. This removes any campy element from the premise. Instead of being a cheesy killer scarecrow movie, this becomes a chilling depiction of how madness and fear can grip a community. The supernatural entity doesn't murder. Instead, it terrorizes the psyche. An old woman is driven to get up and walk, a bundle of sticks on her back, for no reason. A young girl brings it water, while another couple is awoken in the night by the idol stalking outside their home. This is a terror that is inexplicable. Nobody knows where it came from or how to stop it. To Abdollah, all he sees is a figure made of sticks and discarded clothes. Everyone else in town imbues this symbol with an ominous meaning and it drives them all towards madness.

The result is a horror film where the horror is vague, more implied than shown. While that might've been tedious in lesser hands, Farmanara establishes a dream-like ambiance early on. "Tall Shadows of the Wind" is an often quiet film, devoted to people having soft conversations in dimly lit interiors. This is contrasted with an expressive score, that switches between creeping melodies and more bombastic sounds. The film seesaws between these two modes, quiet and hysterical, in the way a nightmare can suddenly change for reasons that can't be understood. Cinematographer Ali Reza Zarrindast often places the actors as small figures in large landscapes, against the flatness of the desert or the wide blue sky. Other times, slow tracking shots are used. Combined, it makes the characters feel like insignificant pawns in a larger game that are always watched by an omniscient force. It goes a long way towards further establishing an ominous tone, where otherworldly powers loom over the common folk. 

Nearly every plot synopsis I can find of "Tall Shadows of the Wind" mentions that it is a direct allegory for the political situation in Iran when it was made. More than one source claims the film is largely a critique of the Pahlavi monarchy that ruled the country before the revolution. There are apparently specific references and criticism of Shi'ite beliefs, which also got the movie banned by Khomeini's government. The film is based on a story by Houshang Golshiri, an Iranian author arrested at one point for his communist beliefs. Naturally, as a dumb-ass American who didn't live through these geopolitical events, most of this stuff went over my head. The climatic dream sequence, of people clad in red marching against the black dressed scarecrows, definitely strikes me as symbolism I lack the cultural context to grasp. However, some themes are universal. "Tall Shadows of the Wind" is about entrusting in something to protect you, only to have it turn against you in time. The same power the people of the village grant the scarecrow, by believing in its abilities, also allows it to terrorize them. This is a scenario recognizable to anyone with a minute's awareness of history. Those we entrust to keep us safe have a bad habit of abusing that trust. "Tall Shadows of the Wind" is about what was happening in Iran in the late seventies, yes. "Who watches the watchmen?" is still a sentiment anyone can understand. 

"Tall Shadows of the Wind" is also a prime example of folk horror. I discovered the film thanks to the "Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched" documentary, where a lot of people probably heard of it for the first time, I bet. Aside from clearly being rooted in specific cultural beliefs of the time and the place, the film is rich with the rural, isolated feeling that exemplifies the subgenre. A community imbuing a scarecrow with ominous powers through their belief in it is an act of mass folk magik. And scarecrows always seem like pagan idols to me, crucified figures looming over the harvest. I guess what I'm saying is... No, I did not understand everything about "Tall Shadows of the Wind." If I did have the cultural knowledge and experiences to grasp what the film suggests, the narrative approach would remain vague and detached. Simply taken as a work of poetic, foreboding mood, it is a compelling and chilling film. Its themes of power, community, and rebellion speaks to anyone. An HD restoration exists, hopefully meaning a proper physical release with all the bells and whistles isn't far off. (This seems like the kind of title Criterion would prioritize.) I'm glad I watched the film, an effective and eerie experience, and now I'm eager to search out some other Iranian horror flicks. [7/10]

Freddy's Nightmares: Sister's Keeper

"Freddy's Nightmares" was not a consistent show, not in quality or construction. Freddy Krueger only acted as a host to the series' stories... Except in eight episodes, which feature him directly involved in the plots. Most installments presented stand alone tales... Except for eleven, that operated as sequels to earlier ones. Finally, nearly every "Nightmare" was split between different tales... Except for two, which devoted a whole hour to their premises. "Sister's Keeper," the seventh episode of the first season, breaks all three of these rules. It follows Lisa and Merit, the twin daughters of the guy Freddy sought revenge on in the series' pilot. Neurotic Merit continues to have nightmares about Freddy, so much that she's spent some time in a mental ward. Popular Lisa simply wants to move on her with life. One day, feeling bad for Merit, the two twins switch places. The sisters also sometimes share physical sensations and dreams. Once Lisa begins having nightmares about Freddy too, the sisters decide to work together to banish the killer once and for all. Will it be enough?

Previous times I've watched "Freddy's Nightmares," I've found it to be an exceedingly lackluster series. Shooting on grainy video tape made every episode look incredibly cheap, a perception further bolstered by usually underwhelming special effects. Too often, the show's dream-centric set-up led to stories ending in incoherent ways. All of these factors are evident in "Sister's Keeper." The script indecisively juggles multiple concepts. The idea of the twins sharing sensations, some sort of "Corsican Brothers" situation, comes and goes from the story. Twin sisters switching places is a clever set-up. (I actually knew sisters in high school who did that exact thing from time to time.) Lisa being so cruel to Merit so often makes it hard to imagine she'd willingly switch places with her. All of these ideas are dropped by the final act, which focuses on the girls sharing dreams and teaming up to stop Freddy, an emotional connection not earned by anything that has come before. 

Meanwhile, every attempt "Sister's Keeper" makes at scaring the viewer comes off as utterly inept. There's some nice colorful lighting in the nightmare sequences, undermined as it is by the shitty video quality. The dream scenes themselves, however, come off as more comedic than anything. Merit dreams that the guitar playing foot fetishist with a crush on her turns into Freddy, a hysterically goofy scene. He's jumping around, shredding on a flying V. It's so goofy! A moment of Lisa getting tossed down the stairs at school by the dream Merit is having about Freddy is similarly awkward. A bed sheet coming to life and holding Merit down is not exactly terrifying. The finale features Freddy's arm extending outwards to grab both sisters, which looks incredibly rubbery and shitty. I've made this comparison before but "Freddy's Nightmares" genuinely did have the production values of an eighties porno as well as the stilted, uncomfortable, and unprofessional look and feel of one. 

This is especially evident in the acting. I don't want to be a dick about this but Gry and Hili Park are simply dreadful as Merit and Lisa. Their delivery is monotone and every attempt at emoting comes off as stiff. That the writing is bad certainly doesn't help. Robert Englund can make campy gold out of the thinnest straw but he seems uncertain here. It doesn't help that the main character is named Merit. What the hell kind of name is that?! They repeat it, over and over again! Exactly one scene is good. Freddy appears in Lisa's bed and mocks her virginal sister for her lack of experience and jealousy of her more popular sister. That has Krueger playing on the fears and insecurities of his teenage victims, which is what he's always done best. Otherwise, "Sister's Keeper" is an embarrassing, tedious hour of television that will only interest die-hard Fred Heads. Which I guess I must be, as I keep watching this show despite knowing it's bad. [4/10] 

The Addams Family: Morticia the Breadwinner

Every iteration of the Addams Family is fabulously wealthy but "Morticia the Breadwinner" is an episode that suggests their resources have their limits. Uncle Fester reports to Morticia that stocks are crashing all over Wall Street. Concerned for the family's financial stability, she organizes everyone to cook up side hustles in order to bring in some extra cash... Without informing Gomez, who has become stuck on the idea of buying up a failing train company in a swampland. After every other plan the other Addams present doesn't get far, Morticia unknowingly ends up in a bid to sell her own shares in the train company to her husband. 

Considering the overall absurdity of the Addams' ridiculous wealth – a prior episode saw them attempting to spend billions on their own space program, while another suggested Gomez has priceless diamonds laying around – it's difficult to take the idea of them running out of savings too seriously. This premise is clearly an excuse to create more wacky interactions between the Addams and more traditional folks. Such as a very broad scene where Wednesday and Pugsley open their own version of a lemonade stand, selling hemlock to an unsuspecting passerby. Or Granmama offering beauty tips to saloons. It's the main joke of the series, the Addams doing their macabre thing when normalcy is expected from everyone outside the family, simply going in a slightly different direction than usual. 

By far the strangest of these attempts is Fester and Lurch trying to start an "escort agency." At first, I figured this phrase must have meant something different back in 1964. Surely, these characters on this goofy old sitcom weren't discussing talking up prostitution? Later scenes make the implications clear. Fester practices celebrity impersonations to impress his "dates" – which goes about as well as you'd expect – while a pair of ladies later refer to them as "gigolos." All I can assume is that audiences at the time were deeply naïve about what paying someone to spend time with you actually entails. Obviously, the fact that the clients of any sex work are overwhelmingly going to be men wasn't going to occur to anyone back then. Instead, this episode puts the mental image of Uncle Fester doing some rough trade into our brains before moving onto the next set of gags. 

In general, it's a weird premise for an episode. Especially considering Gomez has, in the past, been delighted by his financial endeavors failing. Most of this idea, especially Morticia refusing to tell her husband about it, strikes me as deeply contrived. Having said all that, I did laugh a few times. Such as Fester practicing his dynamite skills on the family safe. Or the cute result of Morticia's attempt to start a fencing instructional course. Granted, this is another episode that ends with a phone call but at least we see both sides of the conversation this time. [5/10]