Halloween 2026: September 12th

 

Psycho II (1983)

“Psycho” irreversibly changed the horror genre and, some would surely argue, not necessarily for the better. While Hitchcock's original remained respectable, the imitators that followed Norman Bates focused more on his habit of piercing exposed flesh with bladed instruments than the shadows of his perverted psychology. By the time the slasher boom of the eighties was rolling, surely some professional critics were starting to think that maybe Hitch opened a real can of worms when he yanked that shower curtain back. Robert Bloch certainly seemed to think so. While the order of events is not entirely clear on if Universal was seriously considering a continuation to “Psycho” at the time or not, the author would publish his own sequel in 1982. Bloch's “Psycho II” is a book clearly designed to not be easily adapted to celluloid. Furthermore, it's an obvious reaction to what the horror film had become by the eighties, disgusted by the perceived sexual sadism in the slasher film and seeming especially unimpressed with Italian directors whose first name's end with the letter O.

Whether Bloch was spurned on by the news of a cinematic “Psycho II” or if Universal began to consider a “Psycho II” after the publication of the book, it was evident that Bloch's book was not going to have anything to do with the forthcoming movie. And what filmmaker would have the balls to attempt to follow up Alfred Hitchcock? A sequel to a film as revered and imitated as “Psycho” was going to be judged harshly, no matter how it turned out. Universal seemed to have low expectations for the project too, initially planning on sending the sequel direct-to-cable-TV. Possibly starting Christopher Walken, if Anthony Perkins was unwilling to return. A sharp script from Tom Holland, merely the writer of “The Beast Within” and not yet the director of “Fright Night,” did convince Perkins to return. Perkins' presence and Richard Franklin – a literal student of Hitchcock whose previous work had been positively compared to him – in the director's chair got “Psycho II” upgraded to a theatrical release. While the sequel was still hotly debated at the time, history has been kind to it. 

After two decades in a mental institute, Norman Bates has been deemed fully rehabilitated. His release is protested by Lila Crane, Marion's surviving sister who is now Lila Loomis. His shrink thinks it's a bad idea but Norman insists on moving back into the old Bates house, still standing behind the notorious motel. Norman gets a job working in a local diner and quickly makes a connection with Mary, a waitress with boyfriend problems. Norman's post-imprisonment life is not smooth. The sleazy jerk who currently owns the hotel is harassing him. Most pressingly, he is receiving phone calls and letters from someone claiming to be his Mother. It's not long before someone is lurking around the hotel in a dress and wielding a butcher knife. Norman fears that his sanity is slipping again. He doesn't know that “Mary” is actually Lila Crane's daughter and they are conspiring to drive him back into the mad house. But the question remains: Is Norman truly cured or does his perverse desires and murderous alter-ego remain?

Here in America, we are not great at rehabilitating criminals. Our justice system ostensibly operates under the assumption that everyone is innocent until proven guilty, that anyone can be a functioning member of society again after doing their time. The truth is that the stigma of being an ex-convict makes most people pariahs, exactly the kind of societal undesirables who usually end up doing illegal things. Norman Bates wasn't just a killer but the titular psycho too. This makes him a lot more like a sex offender or drug user, where his previous actions are seen not as a circumstance of his situation but as an innate rot within his soul. This is, perhaps, an understandable reaction. Murder leaves family members grieving for the rest of their lives. How do you forgive someone for taking a person you care about away from you, before their time? It is a task easier said than done and the temptation to believe that once a killer, always a killer is difficult to overcome. Rather than merely being a cash-in slasher sequel, "Psycho II" instead asks an intriguing question: Does Norman Bates deserve to be forgiven for what he's done? Is it possible for him to change his ways?

Holland's script adds on to this set-up in a way that Hitchcock perhaps might have approved of. You could never make a “Halloween” sequel where Michael Myers is a sympathetic anti-hero. Rob Zombie tried and it was not well received. “Psycho II,” meanwhile, actually puts Norman Bates in the victimized role for most of the runtime. The audience figures out quickly that someone is trying to gaslight Norman into killing again. That others are pressuring his blood-thirst to flare up once more. That's apparent from the moment Lila Crane protests his release hearing. The suspense of the sequel is dependent on whether or not “Mother” will act up again. Or in the ambiguity of how many of Norman's experiences are genuine hallucinations and how much are people fucking with him. It's a good idea, not only because it centers the story around the most compelling character in the “Psycho” narrative anyway. Not only because it begets conversation on difficult ideas like justice, forgiveness, and responsibility. It's also simply good writing, that nicely strings the viewer along and keeps us wondering about the pay-off right up until the end.

What most elevates “Psycho II” above the trashy slasher sequel it might have been is a surprisingly strong cast. There's an unavoidable meta quality to Anthony Perkins returning to the role of Norman Bates after twenty-two years. Perkins' casting in the original was a subversion of his boy-next-door persona that worked so well it rewrote his entire career. For the rest of his life, he vacillated between fighting against and embracing this perception. When we see Norman trying to reintegrate back into society, we're also seeing Anthony Perkins trying to re-establish himself as a respectable leading man. However, the aura of depravity remains around him. He stammers during normal conversations, an anxiousness over looking “normal” and functioning properly always under the surface. There is a real sincerity in “Psycho II's” treatment of Norman. It wants him to be a good person, to heal from his traumatic upbringing and leave the spectre of Norma and shower slayings behind him forever. However, Perkins does a lovely job of always hinting at the shifting instability underneath, making both a compelling protagonist and adding to the suspenseful layers of the story.

This is especially true of the relationship with the girl. Hitchcock's “Psycho” never quite convincingly teased out the idea that Norman and Marion Crane had any sexual tension between them. The dinner scene is fraught with uneasiness. She's not going to run off with this weirdo, not even if he wasn't destined to murder her while wearing a dress. The sequel is different, despite the female lead having much more cause to be distrustful of Norman. Meg Tilly's elfin quality, in her Tinkerbell haircut and big ol' doe eyes and soft voice, is well suited the sort of kind soul who might actually forgive a man like Norman. The audience knows she's there to gaslight him into going mad again, long before the script reveals that information. However, when they share scenes together in the isolation of the Bates home kitchen, you feel a pull between them. We only know a shade of Mary's story but the feeling is that, perhaps, she's a bit of a lost soul too. When she cradles weirdo Norman, Perkins turning the twitch up as he rambles about “toasted cheese sandwiches,” it's still sort of sweet. Norman never had a mother figure that actually allowed him to be vulnerable. Here's a woman willing to offer kindness. Whether it could ever be romantic is questionable. Tilly's performance has a level of gentle sensuality to it, emphasized by a body double-provided shower scene and a tight tank-top. But Norman needs platonic acceptance more than sexy time. Nevertheless, the two have a quirky chemistry together. The real tenderness to their interaction is tinged with uncertainty and suspense over what each parties' true motivations are

This dramatic tension inevitably bends towards the implausible. The climax of “Psycho II” is pretty silly and contrived. That's the main issue with the sequel. It's a follow-up to a film regarded as one of the all-time greats in its genre. Everyone making “Psycho II” knew they had no chance of topping the original. Instead of trying to one-up Hitchcock's style, Richard Franklin and cinematographer Dean Cundy actually dial it back a little. The film is wonderfully shot but with less noir lighting than the first, taking a more grounded approach in general. “Psycho II” coming out knee-deep in the slasher boom means the film also has to juggle expectations. Do you embrace the flesh and blood approach the original spawned or do you aspire to a more subtle style? Franklin does his best to engineer suspense. The most blatantly slasher-y scene, teens sneaking into the fruit cellar of the Bates house to screw around and then being stalked by a knife-wielding fiend, aims to create tension over tossing around the red stuff. Later scenes are more blatantly gory. Two gags, in which a butch knife is inserted into a sensitive orifice or impales someone in unlikely circumstances, are a lot of fun to the Fangoria crowd. They also feel like unavoidable concessions to the horror conventions of the time. It's hard to say if Franklin's heart is actually in the slaughter or not.

What is apparent about those two moments, and the film's epilogue, is that the filmmaker is well in-tune with the twisted sense of humor inherent to Hitchcock. The finale operates like a visual gag, a shovel coming down on the back of the head like a punchline. There's also certainly a kinky, teasing absurdity to a murder like deep-throating a knife. Every positive review of “Psycho II” had a begrudging air about it. Critics expected a bullshit slasher stain on the reputation of the original, which could never be topped. Instead, they got a respectful and well orchestrated follow-up with more skill behind it and more on its mind than expected. Horror fans being the contrarian dweebs they are, you've had some people emerge and say they prefer part two to the iconic original. I wouldn't go that far. Saying “Psycho II” is not as good as one of the best films ever made doesn't preclude it from still being a good movie in its own right. Richard Franklin had an impossible task but proved up to the challenge. Triumphing over low expectations is not the most impressive sounding of feats but “Psycho II” deserves its roses anyway. [8/10]

 

 

Alucarda (1977)
Alucarda, la hija de las tinieblas

Film, like any artistic medium, tends to go in cycles. A picture is released, becoming popular or sinking into obscurity. It is then dug up, usually to be showcased in a new format, only for that technology to fade out of usage and take the title with it. Maybe the next time the picture is rediscovered, its reputation as a classic will stick. I certainly had never heard of “Alucarda,” when Mondo Macabra released it on DVD in the 2000s and splashed ads for it all over Fangoria magazine. However, the 1977 religious horror picture would soon climb up the list of beloved cult classics after that, some going so far as to call it the best Mexican horror movie ever made. In the decade since then, the film has fallen out of discussion a little bit. The standard definition disc is still easily found but no Blu-Ray or 4K reissue has followed. I'm sure, once Arrow or Vinegar Syndrome or somebody like that locates a decent print, Juan López Moctezuma's tale of religious madness will be thrust back into the spotlight of cult movie circles. I never forget a title, however, so I'm happy to make this one my Mexican pick for this year's Horror Around the World tour. 

Minutes after giving birth to her, Alucarda's mother donated the girl to a Catholic convent in hopes of protecting her from demonic influence. She has remained there ever since, growing into a spirited but lonely teenager. That's when Justine, another orphan Alucarda's age, arrives at the home. The two quickly become inseparable. Shortly afterwards, they stumble upon the place where Alucarda was buried and her mother died. At their next Mass, the two girls begin to act strangely. They profess loyalty to Satan, attack the resident padre, and drive the nuns into fits of self-flagellation. Father Lazaro declares that an exorcism must be performed, the girls being tortured during the processed. A more enlightened priest named Oszek arrives and stops the ritual, claiming that such practices are barbaric... But Satan is indeed among the them. 

Before making “Alucarda,” Juan López Moctezuma would produce Alejandro Jodorowsky's first two features. Which means he was definitely aware of the international film making scene. Despite being a wholly Mexican production, “Alucarda” recalls many European horror flicks of the decade. There are shades of Jess Franco, in the mixing of girl-on-girl eroticism and gothic tropes. (Not to mention several crash-zooms.) The mixing of intense, sometimes campy violence and Catholic imagery makes me think of Lucio Fulci. The script is partially based on “Carmilla,” it seems unlikely “The Exorcist” wasn't an influence, and references are made to the same historical events that inspired “The Devils.” “Alucarda” feels a lot like what you'd probably get if Franco, Fulci, Ken Russell, and Terence Fischer all took passes on the same material. The tone vacillates between artsy, cheesy, sleazy, and creepy. Sometimes within the same scene, such as the Satanic orgy full of frontal nudity that ends with the potent imagery of a demonic goat leering over the girls' faces. “Alucarda” is vile and blasphemous but also classier than your usual nunsploitation flick, feeling more in-tune with literary traditions and folkloric ambiances. 

A film drawing from all those divergent influences and styles, unsurprisingly, is not the most cohesive. Nor the most narratively coherent, as the story is a bit formless and new characters pop in the last third. For whatever flaws “Alucarda” does have, a lack of intensity certainly isn't one of them. The film taps into a real sense of malevolence at times. The vision Justine and Alucarda have in their bedroom, bending her spine backwards before a demonic envoy appears, has a properly spiritual vibe to it. This is contrasted with a nun floating into the air in a fit of religious frenzy. Shortly after that, the film turns its eye on sadistic violence. The exorcism sequence focus on the pain and suffering the girls' feel. That forbidden air bends towards camp before the end. The climax is a succession of nuns bursting into flames, a gloriously silly and over-the-top spectacle sure to stimulate the third eye of any cult/horror dweeb. However, in its sickest moments, “Alucarda” does give the impression of actual having the devil in it. Or at least an incensed fury at abuses performed by religious authorities.

That thread is probably the part of “Alucarda” that left me the most puzzled. Clearly taking some inspiration from “Witchfinder General” and “Mark of the Devil” too, the film shows an outrage at the torments performed in the name of God. When Dr. Oszek decries exorcism as an arcane practice from a less enlightened age, the movie certainly seems on his side. Any movie that sets this many nuns on fire is clearly pissed at the Catholic Church. At the same time, the possible ambiguity about whether something Satanic is going on in this convent is dispelled long before the end. Faith, when paired with isolation and mania, can convince anyone they or someone else are possessed. However, even the skeptical Oszek has his mind changed before the end. “Alucarda” is neither a condemnation of religious persecution nor an unironic invoking of Satanic Panics past and future. It is indecisively balanced between the two. 

“Alucarda” could have grounded its images of demonic hysteria and willfully sacrilegious violence a little easier. As far as adaptations of le Fanu's “Carmilla” goes, this is a very loose one.  However, the bond between the girls is still central to the movie. Alucarda and Justine's relationship freely crosses back and forth between best friends, sisters, and lovers. Maybe it's just because I've watched “Poison for the Fairies” and 'Don't Deliver Us From Evil” in past Halloweens but I found myself wishing that relationship was more fleshed-out. Maybe it's because “Alucarda” was filmed sans sound and dubbed in post, like so much other EuroSleaze before it, but the performances are tricky to get a bead on. I like Tina Romero and Susana Kamini in the roles. Jean Rollins' certainly got deeper feelings of romantic longing and freedom of expression out of less talented actresses. Still, “Alucarda” never quite allows the viewer to feel the warmth between these two and the passion that drives their bond.

I was feeling a bit uncertain about “Alucarda” before that explosive final act made it clear that I was won over. The dusty and crumbling locations, fake blood heavy special effects, and unpredictable tone are all hard to resist. The film has invited political and sociological readings over the years, as you'd expect from any movie that challenges religion and accepted sexuality this much. I'll have to get more familiar with Moctezuma's work over all before I can make any judgements about the sincerity of those interpretations. Still, this one has got the stuff. Lots of images here that would make fine heavy metal album covers and I must respect that. [7/10]
 

 

Shadows of Fear: Sugar and Spice
 

Here's another obscure, short-lived British anthology show from the seventies. I watched an episode of “Shadows of Fear” two years ago, thought it was pretty good, and have been curious about the rest since. The second episode, “Sugar and Spice,” is set on a stormy night as Anne awaits the arrival of her children and husband. Her daughter, Judy, arrives home with no sign of her younger half-brother. She is acting strangely but Judy always acts odd, so her mother thinks nothing of it. As more hours go by and Michael, the boy, still has not come home, she begins to worry. Judy then tells her mom that dad left her brother with Elizabeth, his mistress that he had promised to stop seeing. Victor – her husband, Michael's father, and Judy's step-dad – arrives home late and drunk. The two argue about his past and possible current infidelity, the mysterious whereabouts of the boy, and Victor's shitty behavior towards Judy. (He calls the 12 year old a “bitch.”) It's not long before the argument gets heated and things turn violent, the girl listening intently from her room upstairs. 

“Sugar and Spice” is not an easy hour of television to like. It's mostly devoted to listening to a married couple argue with each other. Victor is a cheating drunkard and clearly resents the presence of his step-daughter. Anne is unwilling to forgive her husband for his affairs. She has no reason to, as the man never apologizes or seems to feel regret over seeing another woman. This is a good example of a couple that assuredly never should've married, so clearly unable to communicate or resolve any problems. Listening to them shriek and bicker is not the most pleasant experience. I did find myself wondering why I was watching these two miserable people be hateful to each other. However, I will say that “Sugar and Spice” does a good job of depicting the kind of petty resentment and stubborn bitterness that has lead many a marriage to collapsing into hatred. 

“Sugar and Spice” also manages to grasp a grim sense of tension very quickly. Music is used sparingly and most of the episode is scored to the sounds of the rain storm outside. Or the nervous thumping of Anne's heart, emphasized in a striking moment where the movement of the camera is timed with the heartbeat. The continued unknown whereabouts of the little boy provides a feeling of unease throughout. Especially since it's evident that Judy knows more than she's letting on. Suzanne Togni plays the girl, her elfin features and pigtails drawing attention to how innocent she looks... Innocence that is sure to be subverted. What exactly the girl is planning isn't made clear until the ending but isn't too hard to guess. How grim the situation gets still creates suspense, as you're left wondering how far the show will go. Moreover, if Judy is plotting to turn her parents against each other, you can't blame her. Her stepdad is obviously a jerk and her mom smacks her around at some point. If her insistence that her daughter cover up when she's only wearing pajamas in one scene is any indication, maybe she sees her own daughter as a rival. These are the kind of unfortunate situations that can fester underneath a family and that's what “Sugar and Spice” is exploring. A grim one but worth watching. [7/10]

 

Friday the 13th: The Series: Cupid's Quiver
 

Aside from its stubborn refusal to feature a guy in a hockey mask, "Friday the 13th: The Series" has another claim to fame. Mostly because it was made in Canada, the series would see a few notable directors based in the country at the time passing through its gate. Around the same time he was doing random episodes of the eighties editions of "The Twilight Zone" and "Alfred Hitchcock Presents," Atom Egoyan would helm the third episode of "Friday the 13th." The episode begins in a seedy bar, where a guy is trying to pick up a girl already dancing with another man. After pointing a creepy cupid statue at her, she's suddenly leaping into his arms. That doesn't stop him from murdering her after hooking up at a sleazy motel. Later, the statue resurfaces at a frat house. That's where a stalker with a camera and a crush on a girl named Laurie gets his hands on it. Once he determines the statue's mechanism, he sets out making his obsession into his lover. Micki, Ryan, and Jack are on the case. 

Egoyan directed “Cupid's Quiver” several years before “Exotica” establishes his reputation for artistic eroticism. However, you can see that interest appearing in this episode. This is obviously a story dealing with themes of desire, obsession, and love-as-possession. The script remains shallow. Ross Fraser plays Gerald, the stalker, as a sweaty, leering nut. No reason is ever provided for why he's so fixated on Laura. Carolyn Dunn, who strikes me as Molly Ringwald's Canadian Non-Union Equivalent, is likable enough but whether these two have some past relationship or if it's a totally unfounded obsession on his behalf is never fleshed-out. The episode becomes a rather tawdry chase scene in its last act. The script is totally on the magical, love-forcing powers of the Artifact of the Week by that point, discarding any possibility for a deeper examination of these ideas or concepts. 

There's no getting around that justifying why a bunch of characters are carrying around a statue of cupid is hard to do. That inserts an unavoidable corniness into the episode. That is also apparent in the statue's head turning and grinning wickedly before inducing any of its fatal flights of erotomania. That campy streak is most apparent in some backseat heavy petting that randomly involves honey, a hilarious choice. There's also two sex scenes in the episode. Despite any fleshy bits being kept totally off-screen, you still hear an awful lot of moaning. That is kind of surprising and it also shows that the director's interest were already established by this point. There's also some artsier camera angles here, shots randomly being framed from high or low angles. That was cool. The frat house subplot is inessential, at best, but it does see Jack going undercover as a bar tender and accidentally becoming a random kid's confidant for the night. That made me laugh. Also, the show writers seem to be deliberately teasing a romantic tension between Jack and Micki, despite them being cousins. This is probably just the sloppiness of eighties TV at work here but it still made me laugh. [6/10]