Halloween 2025: September 7th

 

Final Destination 2 (2003)
 

New Line Cinema was no stranger to long-running horror series by the time “Final Destination” became a hit in 2000. Considering the studio's history with Freddy, Jason, Leatherface, and the Crites, one imagines talk about Death itself being their next star monster began early. Ultimately, an entire new crew was assembled for “Final Destination 2,” James Wong and Glen Howard committed to other projects. J. Mackye Gruber and Eric Bress were recruited to write the script based on the strength of their then-unfilmed spec script, “The Butterfly Effect.” Veteran stunt coordinator and second unit guy David R. Ellis stepped into the director's chair, despite his only previous directional credit being kiddie sequel “Homeward Bound 2.” That pedigree – a pair of largely unproven writers, a director better known in other fields – suggest the sequel was strictly a mercenary effort. And perhaps it was intended to be. However, Ellis and his team turned out to be exactly the right people for the job. “Final Destination 2” successfully turned one clever fright flick into an on-going series. 

College student Kimberly and her friends are expecting to have a fun, debauched spring break in Daytona Beach. Instead, truck hulling logs comes loose, resulting in a ghastly freeway pile-up that takes the lives of Kim, all her friends, and countless other people. This is, in fact, only a premonition of future events. Kimberly freaks out and attracts the attention of state trooper Thomas Burke. Along with several other drivers, they managed to just avoid the resulting crash that claims Kimberly's friends. The group quickly draw comparison to the explosion of Flight 180 and the bizarre fate that befell the survivors the year before. After two of the people on the freeway that day die in freakish accidents, Kimberly seeks out the help of Clear River, the sole survivor of the first film. The rest of the group – a single mom, a teacher, a coke head, a high-strung professional young woman – all realize they have some connection to Flight 180. That they are all trapped in Death's latest design. They struggle to find an escape, in the form of a pregnant woman delivering her baby and bringing new life into the equation, before all of them are claimed in gruesome accidents. 

The plane accident that kicked off the original “Final Destination” was well-executed. As far as on-screen carnage goes, it was good. One also gets the impression that James Wong worked carefully to make sure it didn't overshadow the stunts to come later in the film. David R. Ellis wasn't worried about that. Putting his stunt work experience to good use, the freeway pile-up in “Final Destination 2” is the kind of legendary horror film making that makes people fans for life. You might have seen the memes about how this movie has made an entire generation paranoid every time they pass a truck hulling logs. That's a good example of how the sequence taps into every day fears. Mostly though, the sequence is a furiously directed and edited escalation of violence. The gore is surprisingly brutal, people pulverized by a sailing log, crushed by a sliding motorcycle, and left to burn. Ellis throws in multiple explosions, each one hitting harder than the one before. It feels like a roller coaster ride, strapped into a nightmare scenario that only gets worst before the truck careens right at the camera, seemingly coming for us viewer too. Good shit, in other words.

That might have resulted in “Final Destination 2” peaking early. Indeed, the sequel is never as intense or scary again as it is in this moment. That doesn't stop the movie from engineering further moments of gloriously fucked-up violence. David R. Ellis goes for bombast, taking the first's formula of chain reactions of small events leading to grisly death and ramping it way up. Fiery explosions reoccur throughout the film, a car going up in flames and an apartment being consumed. The executions are much messier than before. A fire escape ladder smashing into a face, an elevator decapitation, or a barb wire fence flying through the air to slice someone into thirds have a bloody viciousness to them that were largely missing in studio horror movies in 2003. This is clearest during a spectacularly messed up moment when a young kid is totally creamed by a falling plate of glass, reduced to liquid by the weight. 

If all of the above sounds more like Grand Guignol than tightly engineered thrills, that is very intentional. “Final Destination 2” expands on the undercurrent of dark comedy present in the original in a big way. Rather than attempt to build portent by piling on foreshadowing of the characters' fates, they feel way more ironic. A character always nursing a cigarette, glancing at some goldfish, or some pigeons slamming into a window are such specific set-ups for the inevitable “accidents,” that it feels far more sarcastic than suspenseful. The sequel delights in presenting a dozen potential things that could go wrong to threaten a character. This is often misdirection, a slip-up on some tossed-off spaghetti or the Jaws of Life becoming a cause of death being nicely executed and clearly intended as sicko comedy. The escalating unlikeliness of these circumstances are knowingly ridiculous and “Final Destination 2” is gleefully mean-spirited in how it sets up and plays with viewer expectations on the way to gory executions. 

The somewhat flippant tone “Final Destination 2” carries, right through to the clearly farcical pre-credit gag, would suggest that we shouldn't get that invested in any of its characters. Some of the cast members, such as the shirtless lottery winner in a muscle car played by David Paetkau, are cartoonish assholes. However, the sequel does a shockingly good job of making its meat-bags unexpectedly human. Compared to the pretty but indistinct teenagers of the first movie, the cast here is a lot more diverse in demographics. T.C. Carson is a high-strung black man, Keegan Connor Tracy is a single female lawyer, Lynda Boyd is a middle-aged widower. When Carson attempts suicide, to take control over his life back, it is an unexpectedly vulnerable moment. Similarly, the drug addict played by Rory Peters is a fairly one-note character throughout the film. However, a brief moment where he asks someone to protect his mother from his partying life style in the event of his death is unexpectedly meaningful. The sequel is shockingly good at sneaking in little moments of texture like that, going a long ways to making its characters more than merely bodies awaiting execution.

Of course, Tony Todd is here too. He emerges from a morgue bathed in red light and smoke while chuckling darkly, an excellent use of his baritone voice and sinister delivery. Even Ali Larter gives a better performance here than in the first one. The result is a sequel that is multitudes more entertaining than the original, with grislier effects and a wickedly sick sense of humor. This was actually my first exposure to the franchise, becoming a film I re-watched a lot during high school. I wasn't the only one, as “Final Destination 2” remains a fan favorite. David R. Ellis attempted similarly outrageous genre fair after this and never topped it either, suggesting there was something special in the mix on this one. Fuck it, I'm giving this one a high score, because it is that purely amusing and nasty to me. [9/10]

 

An Angel for Satan (1968)
Un angelo per Satana

My buddies over at All Outta Bubblegum used to have a reoccurring feature any time they reviewed a movie starring an especially distinguished action star. Certain iconic performers had a checklist of trademarks they often performed. If you wanted to know how many of Chuck Norris' movies feature him performing a roundhouse kick or how often Steven Seagal snaps a limb in one of his features, that would be the best way to learn. I am so fond of this metric that I've used it myself multiple times. While the action genre is especially good for this, you can cook up checklist for about any star who made lots of the same kind of stuff. For example! The string of gothic horror flicks Barbara Steele made in Italy in the late sixties were all highly imitative of Mario Bava's “Black Sunday,” the film that made Steele a scream queen and kicked off this wave. So much so that you could easily track how often the same tropes appear across these films. If one were to assemble a Scenarios of Steele checklist, it would contain descriptions such as “plays a dual role,” “revenge from beyond the grave,” “plot involving witchcraft or gaslighting,” and “period setting or gothic trappings.” You'll find all of the movies Steele starred in during this time feature one or all of these devices. A very typical example is 1968's “An Angel for Satan,” which is said to be the last film of this exact type Dame Steele would make. 

An artist named Roberto Merigi arrives at the villa of Count Montebruno, a stately manor surrounded by a lake. Roberto has been hired to restore an ancient statue recently recovered from the watery depths. It depicts Belinda, an ancestor of Montebruno that was said to be a beautiful but infinitely cruel witch. A curse is said to surround the statue and its unearthing has the villagers spooked. At the same time, the count's niece, Harriet, returns home from college. Roberto notices a striking resemblance between Harriet and the statue of Belinda, asking her to pose as the model for the restoration. The two quickly fall in love but Harriet begins to act strangely. Her kind personality will randomly be replaced with a sadistic, manipulative one and she begins to play deadly mind games with the people around town. Moreover, during these episodes, she claims her name is Belinda. Has she been possessed by the spirit carried within the cursed statue or is something else afoot? 

All the gothic horrors of Barbara Steele draw extensively from her penetrating eyes, stately beauty, and unearthly presence. It's all the weaker ones truly have going for them. As in "Black Sunday" and "Nightmare Castle," "An Angel for Satan" sees her playing both a predatory villainess and the innocent, virginal descendant. The possession story allows Steele to switch between the wide-eyed Harriet and the seductive Belinda. The latter is when the fun starts. "An Angel for Satan" most comes alive when devoted to Steele tormenting the townsfolk. She strips nude before the village idiot, badgering and horse-whipping him until he pledges servitude to her. Recalling "Castle of Blood," Belinda's wickedness is further signaled by her flexible sexuality, as she does not limit her seductions to only men. When focused on Steele beaming cruelty with her piercing gaze and speechifying theatrically about her own power and the unworthiness of those around her, "An Angel for Satan" manages to entertain. 

Unfortunately, not all of "An Angel for Satan" is devoted to Steele being a devious, mildly gay, dommy queen. Spaghetti western regular Anthony Steffen plays Roberto, a perfectly cromulent lead who is otherwise lacking in charm or depth. The romance between him and Harriet exists as a plot device more than anything else, despite a few steamy scenes of them making out. This is not the only inessential subplot in the film. Truthfully, a lot of "An Angel for Satan" is devoted to setting up the petty melodramas of the various characters around the village. There's a virtuous school teacher courting Harriet's chamber maid, a brutish drunk who hangs out at the bar, his wife and daughter, and several other dangling plot points that entirely too much screen time is devoted to. It takes more brain power to track who everyone is and what their relations are to each other, what particular cliched conflicts are playing out between them, than the film ever pays back. That makes for a slow paced and largely unengaging viewing experience. 

Obviously, the past Italian chillers starring Steele often overcame cliched or underwritten scripts by piling on the misty, shadowy atmosphere. There's some of that on display in this "Angel." The period costumes and stately sets are lovely. Giuseppe Aquari's cinematography does produce some striking visuals. Such as the opening shots of a boat emerging through the fog or Roberto being called out of his bedroom during a stormy night. The highlight of the film is probably a sequence where a portrait catches on fire, the bubbling parchment giving the painted face the impression of movement as a spirit communicates in voice-over. However, there's not quite enough spooky ambiance in this one to activate my third eye the way "The Horrible Dr. Hichcock" or "The Ghost" did. The ratio of Gothic gloom to cheap paperback melodrama is off. The same is true of the kinky undertones commonplace in these films. While the implied lesbianism, mild sadomasochism, and barely off-screen nudity are all fine by me, "An Angel for Satan" also focuses more on the sexual assault and abuse of women than makes me comfortable. I suppose this was a sign of the direction Italian exploitation movies would be headed in within the next decade. But I don't know, this one often feels mean in a way that doesn't sit right with me. 

The final sin "An Angel for Satan" commits occurs mere minutes before the end titles. That would be a twist ending that undermines the most interesting elements of the story in a way that struck this viewer as especially contrived. It happens so soon before the end credits role that the revelation feels shoved in as a last minute addition. The Italian appetite for tales of curses, witches, old castles, and persecuted maidens in lovely gowns was about worn out by this point. Steele would lend her unique talents to one more horror film before the sixties ended before taking a five year hiatus from the genre, by which point horror had transformed into a different animal. "An Angel for Satan" definitely represents this particular wave of films in an exhausted state, the cliches run through and writers and directors fresh out of ideas to revitalize them. But that horse whipping scene is pretty great. They can't take that away from us. [6/10]

 

‘Way Out: Side Show

I was quite impressed with the episode of “'Way Out” – the obscure, partially lost horror anthology that Roald Dahl hosted for thirteen episodes in 1961 – I watched last year, so here's another one. “Side Show” stars future Amity Island mayor Murray Hamilton as Harold, a forty year old man with a crabby wife and a job he hates. On a whim one night, he visits a carnival. He's drawn to the side show. Most of the sights within do not live up to the barker's over-excited sales pitch. However, Harold is drawn to the Electric Woman, a seemingly headless woman in a gown strapped to an electric chair. He hears the apparently decapitated woman speaking to him and feels a connection. He returns every night to the carnival, much to his wife's annoyance, and learns that the Electric Woman is held against her will by the barker. Harold hatches a plot to free his headless object of affection but it doesn't end great for him. 

“Side Show” doesn't have the tension nor the ironic pay-off of “I Heard You Calling Me.” In fact, the episode's twisted ending raised more questions than it answers. From the first scene, it is obvious that there's something sinister about the side show attraction Harold becomes enamored of. That he's being led to his doom by some sort of otherworldly siren is foreshadowed by the eerie music that plays whenever she talks. However, the exact nature of what is happening here is left vague. Whether the barker genuinely is a sinister figure or unaware of what is happening is not elaborated upon. The final reveal makes for a decent shock but I don't think it makes much sense. The moral here seems to boil down to simply “don't trust strange women” but there's not much in the way of interior logic.

I still liked “Side Show” though, largely because Murray Hamilton makes Harold into such a lovable loser. Hamilton has such a natural, sad-sack energy about him, you can't help but feel bad for him. His wife isn't that horrible to him. She seems cranky and fed-up with her husband being such a perpetual downer but I don't think she's that bad. However, you understand immediately why a guy like Harold would be so susceptible to someone – including a woman with no head – saying nice things to him. You get the impression that he isn't appreciated much in his life. That the femme fatale he idealized is literally faceless, allowing him to project all his desires and fantasies upon her, feels like a potentially deep statement. There is definitely an intriguing meanness to “'Way Out” that wasn't present in the thoughtful “The Twilight Zone,” classically spooky “Thriller,” or more genteel “Alfred Hitchcock Presents.” That is further supported by Dahl's deeply sarcastic host segments. That could've distinguished this program from its contemporaries but, alas, it didn't get that shot. [7/10]

 

The Addams Family: Cousin Itt's Problem

Filmways or whoever didn't spend all that money creating furry suits for Felix Silla to sweat in and a miniature set for him to wobble around not to use them. Which means we got another Cousin Itt centric episode. This one sees the fuzzy relative visiting 0001 Cemetery Lane following an adventure in the far east. Gomez gifts him a big dog, that looks like some sort of wolfhound in a Beatles wig. While chopping up his birthday cake with an executioner's axe, the family starts to notice that it appears ol' Itt is going bald. Concerned for their hairy pal, Uncle Fester goes about creating a cure for male pattern baldness in his laboratory. The chemical solution works too well, various objects around the Addams' home starting to sprout full, luxurious manes. 

I guess just about every man has dealt with some anxiety over losing his hair at one point or another. It is a part of the masculine condition, I suppose. Giving that particular anxiety to the most hirsute member of the Addams Family is an amusing joke. This leads to some amusingly silly lines from Gomez and Morticia, gasping in mock horror about Itt's apparent hair loss. This is another joke that clearly doesn't have long enough legs to support a whole half-hour. After Fester's formula works, and he grows a gorgeous mop, he starts to court female attention. This subplot never really goes anywhere and isn't as funny as the Itt related problems. Though Fester's reaction to a phone call at the end did get a chuckle out of me.

Mostly, this episode works thanks to the series of suitably bizarre sight gags it cooks up. The image of random objects around the mansion sprouting hair must rank among the weirder jokes introduced in this series. The image of Thing's box, surrounded by a ring of magically grown hair, is certainly among the odder jokes the classic “Addams Family” brought us. The episode starts with a sequence of questionable racial sensitivity, where Gomez is ineffectually dueling Lurch with samurai swords. Gomez wears a silly hat throughout, making this gag a bit too goofy to be genuinely offensive. There's also a good bit involving the fireman's pole in this episode and Pugsley dressing up. I laughed and chuckled plenty of times. Another winner. [7/10]

Halloween 2024: September 8th

The Strangers: Chapter 1 (2024)

Upon release in 2008, Bryan Bertino's “The Strangers” certainly seemed primed to launch an on-going series. Its premise, of a trio of masked home invaders terrorizing people at random, is an endlessly mutable set-up that a long string of sequels could follow. And it certainly didn't hurt that the movie made 82 million dollars against a mere 9 million dollar budget. Instead of us getting a new “Strangers” every year, it took a decade for “The Strangers: Prey at Night” to arrive. Part two didn't blow the box office up but it still more than tripled its production budget. After Lionsgate acquired the property not long ago, they clearly didn't want to wait that long to make more “Strangers” movies. The company immediately announced an ambitious plan to reboot the concept as a trilogy, directed by Renny Harlin. The company is so intent on turning "The Strangers" into a regularly scheduled series that they made the risky move to shoot the three films simultaneously. This unorthodox scheme, to engineer a horror franchise through sheer brute force, kicked off back in May with “The Strangers: Chapter 1.”

The press material described “Chapter 1” as a reboot while its subtitle implies it's a prequel. This is despite the new “Strangers” clearly being a remake of the old “Strangers.” It follows Maya and Ryan, a couple celebrating their fifth anniversary with a road trip. Their car breaks down in Venus, Oregon. Since the autoshop says they won't receive the necessary part until the next morning, the two find an Airbnb to spend the night in. At first, Maya finds the experience rather romantic. However, a strange girl knocking on their door and asking if someone named Tamara is there unsettles her. That's the first of many terrifying events that night. Soon, the two realized they are being stalked by a trio of masked intruders, ready to play a deadly game with their randomly chosen prey. That is, if you didn't notice, basically the same premise as the original. Imagine how I feel, knowing that a movie I saw in theaters as a teenager is now old enough to get a remake...

For all its flaws, 2008's "The Strangers" did generate a grim tension. It never left any doubt in the viewers' minds that the central couple were doomed from the get-go, that nothing was stopping the intruders from piercing their inner sanctum, and that everything that followed was a sadistic ritual on their behalves. That Bryan Bertino has repeatedly shown a talent for generating eerie soundscapes and a mounting sense of dread was clearly a factor in his original film working so well. Harlin's version, on the other hand, can never capture that same foreboding feeling. It's heavier on the jump scares, with most of the Strangers' sudden appearances on-screen being accompanied by a loud shriek on the soundtrack. The remake trots out the well-known modern cliché of there being no cell service out in the country. "Chapter 1" mostly drops the ball on the sense of isolation that was so important to the original's success. This is largely because the script draws a lot more attention to there being a town around the solitary home the protagonists shack up in. At one point, Ryan jumps on a motorcycle, rides up to a food truck, and gets himself a burger. It definitely diminishes the sense that no one is coming to help these kids if a bustling little town is a short drive away. Making the location an AirBnB makes our heroes feel more connected to the outside world, not alone and vulnerable. 

In fact, there is this lingering suggestion that the townsfolks are somehow connected to the Strangers. The redneck mechanic is excessively creepy, in a way familiar to anyone who has watched lots of backwoods set horror flicks. The kids on bikes passing out religious literature, simply background color in Bertino's film, now have a bigger presence. Suggesting some weird religious shit is going on in the town, which feels like it could link back to the cult-like vibes the Strangers possess. That a waitress points the couple to the central location also hints at a bigger connection. Moreover, Richard Brake – well established as the premiere creep character actor of the moment – has a mostly silent bit part as the town's sheriff. One assumes that a recognizable actor wouldn't be in such a small role unless this preconceived trilogy had future plans for him. You don't cast Richard Brake as a background character, you cast him as a crook or a psycho. Considering a big part of what made the Strangers scary in the first place was how ineffable they were, their motives unknown, their crimes random, their identities unrevealed, all of this feels like a misguided addition. Or, to be brutally honest, a sweaty, desperate attempt to build up a mythology around a trio of villains who were intentionally thinly sketched. To turn Michael Myers from the original "Halloween" into Michael Myers from "Halloween 6." 

"The Strangers: Chapter 1" isn't as scary as the original or as creatively pulpy as the second. However, it's also not without its own merits. Renny Harlin has made plenty of bad movies but he's also not without skills. A scene of Maya navigating a crawlspace, trying to avoid Pin-Up Girl's detection, and running her hand through with a stray nail. That's a decently engineered moment of suspense. As is a later scene of the couple being cornered in a vehicle while the killers plow into them with their truck. Overall, as the movie goes on, it gets a little better at building tension. Harlin has always specialized in pyrotechnic-filled spectacle and he throws some of that in here too, via the motorcycle going up in flames. And that's not a half-bad scene. José David Montero, previously of "Hell Fest" and a lot of undistinguished schlock, is the cinematographer here. He makes the movie rather moody at times, with some heavy fog in the wooded scenes and a general good use of cool blues, blacks, and earthier tones. 

The biggest problem with the original "The Strangers" is that the imperiled couple were not the most likable characters. Their relationship was crumbling, causing there to be tension between them before the masked murderers showed up. The remake, meanwhile, has its protagonists deeply in love with each other. Maya and Ryan's interactions are sexy but also relaxed and comfortable. The script tries to mine drama out of his disinterest in getting engaged but the two seem fairly happy nevertheless. Madelaine Petsch and Froy Gutierrez have decent chemistry together, both displaying a kind of friendly cluelessness that compliment each other. Maybe both of them having Golden Retriever energy was necessary because – as in the original – the victims make some questionable decisions. When Ryan has a shotgun pointed right at a Stranger's head, he rambles on long enough for another to attack, instead of pulling the damn trigger. Before that, he crinkled a water bottle loudly and gave his location away. In general, it feels like any reasonable person would have gotten the hell out after seeing the first signs of a home invasion. Instead, Ryan comforts Maya and convinces her to stay. I know we wouldn't have a movie otherwise. Characters acting dumb in the horror genre isn't anything unusual. But if I had been assigned a remake of "The Strangers," I would've tried to boost the leads' intelligence as well as their affability. 

The original film ended on a distressing, cruel note that felt like a culmination of everything that came before. The inevitable kill that follows after a predator finishes toying with its prey. Since "Chapter 1" lacks that same level of dread, its ending instead feels like some gross, torture gore tagged on as a final, unsuccessful attempt to wring some scares out of this material. That a "To Be Continued..." message appears right before the credit can't help but leave the film feeling unfinished and the audience feeling unsatisfied. The flaws of "The Strangers: Chapter 1" are mostly based in it following the original so closely and sticking to this ill-conceived trilogy gimmick. If Renny Harlin had simply made a "Strangers 3," unburdened from setting up two more installments and not standing so totally in the shadow of Bertino's work, this probably would've been a decently entertaining, junk-slasher sequel. Lionsgate made the movie for 8 mil and it grossed over 40 at the box office, so at least the already-in-the-can other two parts probably won't be a sunk cost. Whether "The Strangers: Chapter 2" will build on what worked here or dig deeper into the flawed elements remains to be seen. Thus the seemingly easy task of making another "The Strangers" becoming a struggle goes on... [6/10]

The Long Hair of Death (1964)

I lunghi capelli della morte

Of all the sixties horror stars, Barbara Steele always seemed the most mysterious, the most remote. Maybe this is the result of the kind of otherworldly beauties she so often played, those piercing eyes projecting an elfin quality that can't easily be pinned down. That she has a much smaller body of work than most of her contemporaries – a row of Gothic Italian chillers in the sixties, a couple of cult classics in the last seventies, sporadic appearances since then – adds to this image as well. She wouldn't discuss her genre work for years afterwards, suggesting she was more ambivalent to it than the Hammer boys. That has thankfully changed in recent years, with Steele becoming a regular on the convention circuit. (Though she always cancels whenever she's scheduled to head to my corner of the globe...) The point of this rambling introduction is that, despite doing fewer films than Lee or Price, Steele's impact on the horror genre would be no less significant. She was basically the face of Italian Horror in the sixties. Look no further than "The Long Hair of Death," her other collaboration with Antonio Margheriti. (Whose name I didn't intend to pop up this much this September but here we are.) 

In 15th century Europe, Count Humboldt has ordered Adele Karnstein to be burned at the stake for witchcraft. The real reason for this is Adele turned down the Count's sexual advances. When Adele's oldest daughter, Helen, offers herself to the Count in exchange for her mother's pardon, he kills her too. The youngest Karnstein daughter, Lisabeth, is accepted into the Humboldt court. Years later, she has grown into a gorgeous maiden. The Count's scheming nephew, Kurt, desires her. After forcing Lisabeth into marriage with him, a mysterious beauty named Mary – who looks just like Lisabeth's late, older sister – arrives at the castle. Kurt is immediately smitten with her. He quickly pulls Mary into a scheme to murder Lisabeth. Yet both women are more than they appear to be. 

Themes of philandering men being punished for their infidelity or other twisted desires are common in gothic horror. Few films, however, attack these ideas with the ferocity of "The Long Hair of Death." The men of this unnamed, vaguely Germantic kingdom are especially wicked. The Count and Kurt both coerce Helen and Elisabeth into their beds, both women proclaiming they hate them as the men have their ways with them. Both guys are all too willing to murder to cover up their sexual improprieties. Each only seem to see other people as pawns to use, stepping stones towards acquiring more power and feeding their insatiable lusts. That both men get away with it for so long paints a grim painting for women in this time... And maybe in any time, as men in position of power still misbehave gravely. It's hard to read "The Long Hair of Death" as feminist, since the archetypes it employs are so embroiled in the sexual politics of 1960s Italy. (Lisabeth still can't bring herself to betray her husband, despite being horrible to her.) The scumbag men do get what's coming to them by the end, the women ultimately functioning as avatars of otherworldly justice. The message, as always, is clear: Even the powerful will face the consequences of their crimes, if it's only in death. 

This mythic story structure, of the wicked being punished by otherworldly machinations their own crimes set in action, recalls classical folklore and fairy tales. Which doesn't disguise that "The Long Hair of Death's" plot is basically a hodgepodge of the other gothic horror flicks Steele had starred in before this. Like in "Black Sunday," Steele had a duel role as both a virginal victim and a scheming seductress from the other side. The film features a sequence of a corpse regenerating and crawling out of its grave that is clearly reminiscent of Bava's classic. The opening burning at the stake scene is also indebted to that seminal film. Like Margheriti's earlier "Castle of Blood," Steele is one half of a pair of mysterious sisters. As in "The Horrible Dr. Hichcock," a young woman being gaslit by her evil husband is a plot point. Like "The Ghost," Steele gets to be part of the conniving couple. The story blending human horrors with the supernatural does distinguish it a little bit. Yet, ultimately, "The Long Hair of Death" doesn't deter the presumption that most of Steele's movies are blatantly imitative of each other. (And would continue to be, as the movies Steele made after this one also features many of these ideas.)

A derivative plot is almost besides the point though. "The Long Hair of Death," like so many of the Italian gothic chillers of this time, is thick with ambiance. Riccardo Pallottini's black-and-white cinematography is thick with foreboding. Though lacking the foggy atmosphere of Margheriti's "Castle of Blood," the film still gets the most out of its deep shadows, dusty hallways, and moldering crypts. A sequence showing how the plague has torn apart the village is easily the most dream-like, shadowy sequence in the movie. The film was mostly shot in an actual medieval castle – Castello Massimo in the Roman province of Arsoli – which no doubt added to the movie's foreboding feeling. There are plenty of memorable visuals here. Such as a corpse seemingly squirming to life, from being plump with rats. To the climatic uses of an effigy of death, which graces most of the poster. 

Naturally, Barbara Steele is fantastic in the film. Despite her actual voice being (badly) dubbed over, her chilling and captivating gaze breaks through all language barriers. Steele's one-of-a-kind screen presence could simply elevate a dusty old ghost story like this with ease. Halina Zalewska is also strikingly gorgeous as the more innocent Lisabeth. George Ardisson and Giuliano Raffaelli are both suitably despicable as Kurt and the Count. While the pacing sags a little bit in the middle, the strength of "The Long Hair of Death's" prologue and climax are enough to easily recommend it to fans of this particular subgenre. It's neither Steele's strongest nor weakest film but will surely satisfy any of her fans. [7/10]

Climax!: Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

In August of 1954, CBS ended “Suspense,” an anthology designed to thrill and excite, often based on well-known stories and starring recognizable faces. In October of 1954, CBS began airing “Climax!,” an anthology designed to thrill and excite, often based on well-known stories and starring recognizable faces. The series did not focus solely on macabre stories – the most famous episode is “Casino Royale,” giving us the first on-screen depiction of James Bond – but it did feature horror stories sometimes. Such as probably the second most famous episode, a version of “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” Aside from the notoriety of the source material, the episode is an early screenwriting credit of Gore Videl. 

Videl condensed Robert Louis Stevenson's novella somewhat to be confined largely to two different sets, since “Climax!” was broadcast live. The biggest change made to the source material is the beginning, with Mr. Hyde being shot dead by the police in Dr. Jekyll's lab. His personal journal is then read, the story being told via flashback. Michael Rennie, of “Michael Rennie was ill” fame, plays the title part. Cedric Hardwicke appears as Utterson, the doctor's confidant. Mary Sinclair plays the unnamed barmaid – the script obliquely clarifies that she's not a prostitute – that Hyde becomes obsessed with. The episode limits Hyde's wicked acts to harassing that poor girl, picking fights in the bar, and eventually murdering someone. Still, the spirit of the novella is there. Considering how wildly off the mark cinematic “Jekyll and Hydes” tend to go, this one earns points for sort-of sticking to the text. 

When judged on its own merits, this “Jekyll and Hyde” is fairly entertaining. Rennie is no Fredric March but gives a solid performance. The moment when Jekyll looses control over his transformation, and he signals to Sinclair that he's Hyde now through only a change of expression, is a highlight. The make-up used to create Hyde is underwhelming. Rennie is given a unibrow, a mole, some polish on his face, and slaps on an unflattering whig. The sequence when he first takes the potion remains interesting. The camera starts to jostle side to side and there's a really cool shot of the walls bubbling and pulsating. 

Being an example of early, live television, there's a few noticeable slip-ups. Rennie flubs a line in one of his first scenes. A stage hand is seen pulling a curtain closed at one point. Of course, like a lot of shows from this era, “Climax!” also had a corporate sponsor. That would be Chrysler Motors. A lengthy segment is devoted to host William Lundigan showing off some new cars. I don't know how any vintage TV shows managed to build any suspense with required moments like that. Still, on the long list of “Jekyll and Hyde” adaptations, this is a sturdy one. It stands better on its own, and less as a novelty, compared to many of the other really old TV episodes I've watched. [7/10]

Chucky: There Will Be Blood

Chucky might have bit the dust in the previous episode but “Chucky: The Series” is far from done. “There Will Be Blood” has the spirit of Charles Lee Ray arriving in the afterlife, which takes the form of the White House. He meets with Damballah himself, who appears to Chucky: The Man as Chucky: The Doll. On account of his audacity for murdering a president, the god gives the serial killer one more chance. In the corporeal White House, Warren Pryce prepares a cover-up that will officially kill off President Collins and put the vice president in control. Pryce also orders Jake, Lexy, Devon, and Grant locked up. Experts in the paranormal arrive at the White House to investigate. The séance they perform only gives Chucky's ghost a chance to cause more chaos, Jake coming up with a crazy scheme to stop the serial killer once and for all. Meanwhile, in Texas, Tiffany/Jennifer Tilly's plan to avoid execution goes awry and she faces down lethal injection.

Considering how enjoyably nuts “Chucky” has gotten this season, I'm happy that that show puts a creatively bent take on the concept of the afterlife. Previous victims reappearing, their injuries intact, in a version of the White House inhabited by famous ghosts and decorated with the doll's visage is something else. Hearing Chucky's immediately recognizable voice come out of Brad Dourif's actual flesh-and-blood body is a bit disorientating, I'll admit. It is a delight to see the beloved character actor embodying Charles Lee Ray for the first time in years. Having him play against the doll, Damballah acting as a distracted CEO in plastic form, is such a weird, fun scene. 

That opening sequence is so much fun that “There Will Be Blood” never quite tops it. It certainly tries, though. The title is lived up to, when Ray's ghost fills an elevator entirely with blood. The séance is most fun for the way Dourif fucks with the mediums. “Chucky” certainly gets the most of its access to profanity in this episode. I don't dislike the subplot about Pryce using the presidential double to instill a leader he can control in the Oval Office. However, it does feel like a distraction from what's most interesting in this episode. How all of that plays out can't help but feel like “Chucky” hastily clipping away at subplots as it pulls into the final act of season three. This is certainly an episode whose last few minutes exist to set-up the season finale, meaning it's not as satisfying as some of the better installments from season three.

“There Will Be Blood” is notable for another reason. The episode is largely without a musical score. This gives the hour a much more somber, introspective tone. That is especially apparent in the scenes involving Tiffany Valentine heading towards death row. The climatic moment there – I'm reluctant to assume it'll be Jennifer Tilly's last involvement with this franchise – does generate some pathos. This is an unusually downbeat episode of a season that's been quite comedic so far. The more chaotic, violent set-pieces feel more fatalistic than splatsticky. It's still a fairly unique installment in a season that has continuously swung for the fences. I'm excited to see how it'll be wrapped up next time. [7/10]

Halloween 2023: September 25th

The Outwaters (2022)

If “Skinamarink” was the first break-out indie horror hit of 2023, the second has to be “The Outwaters.” Coming out only a few weeks after Kyle Edward Ball's film got a theatrical release, Robbie Banfitch's found footage mind-bender followed a similar release path. A micro-budget forcing the filmmakers to rely largely on the power of suggestion, “The Outwaters” received some rave reviews on the festival circuit, a few hailing it as the next scariest movie ever made. From there, it got a limited theatrical release proceeding a debut on a horror-themed streaming service. (In this case, Shudder rival Screambox.) And if “Skinamarink” was divisive, “The Outwaters” would prove to be even more-so. Once again, the time has come for me to judge for myself. 

“The Outwaters,” belonging to the “Blair Witch” tradition, presents itself as the recovered footage from camera memory cards discovered in the Mojave Desert. Filmmaker Robbie, his wife Angela, and his brother Scott head into the desert to film a music video for singer Michelle, a mutual friend. As they wander further into the arid landscape, the group begins to notice strange things. They hear thundering noises at night, see an unusual light in the sky, and while high pitched sounds echoing from within a rock. The next night, the quartet are attacked by a bloody, naked man wielding a hatchet. From there, Robbie – clinging to his camera – spirals headfirst into otherworldly terror. 

What the hell exactly is happening in “The Outwaters” is left intentionally vague. Late in the film, Robbie spots some evidence that suggests he might've stumbled into some sort of government testing ground. Yet even this could be easily missed. What “The Outwaters” is really doing is giving the viewer a first-person perspective on a journey into cosmic horror. Time and space unwind and circle back on themselves. Sounds and visions from Robbie's memories manifest as he futilely attempts to hang on to his sanity. The man and his friends are reduced to childish wails, their brains shattering under the weight of such an occurrence. Strange creatures from another world – resembling screaming lengths of intestines or roaring hunks of toothed, burnt meat – are quickly glimpsed. Pools of red water and swirling tunnels full of stars put in appearance, further suggesting that we're seeing a hellish trip through some sort of worm hole. “The Outwaters” is clearly attempting to replicate having a personal encounter with uncanny terrors beyond human comprehension, bringing Lovecraftian horror as close to us as possible. 

In order to visually convey such a mind-altering experience, Banfitch's film pushes the found footage format as far as it can. This means long stretches of “The Outwaters” are devoted to a handheld camera fumbling around through the dark. There's lots of shot of Robbie's feet and hands. We see briefly illuminated shots of bloodied faces, smeared viscera, and weird creatures. There are memorable images, mostly playing off the flat, wide, still landscapes of the desert. Yet whether or not you find “The Outwater's” almost experimental relationship to traditional visual coherence compelling or irritating will depend entirely on taste. If “Skinamarink” can be dismissed as 100 minutes of the camera pointing at the corner of a hallway, “The Outwaters” can be dismissed as nearly two hours of some asshole dropping his camera in the desert night.

And so the question is raised: Did it work for me, personally? Well, sort off. There are definite moments when “The Outwaters” is unnerving. The film's sound design is well done, especially when the dialogue fades and only strange echoing sounds are heard in the soundtrack. Once the cosmic freak-out begins, the movie definitely gets in some good shocks. The first appearance of those shrieking intestine worms, for example. Or a sudden cut to blood being vomited onto the desert floor. In its creepeist moment, “The Outwaters” successfully captures the feeling of sanity slipping and reality falling apart. Robbie's desperate mumbles, attempting to hold onto his identity when not slipping into juvenile muttering, definitely sells that feeling.

Yet there's a big problem facing “The Outwaters.” You never really care about these characters. The best found footage movies use the naturalistic interactions of the characters, serendipitously caught on camera within the film's universe, to establish who these people are. Banfitch takes this idea to its furthest point. The first fifty minutes of “The Outwaters” is devoted to these characters just... Doing stuff. They talk, they drink, they party, they mess around with the camera. While hints at relationships and their collective past are hinted at – Robbie having a deceased father, for one – we never really get a sense of who these people are. Without a sense of personality to ground the audience, the second half feels like weird shit happening for no reason. When the movie descends into outrageous gore in its final moments, you feel like the filmmakers have exhausted all the tools available to them. 

By the way, “The Outwaters'” classification as analog horror strikes me as debatable. The in-universe events are shot on digital cameras, so there's not much analog about that. While audio distortion is important to the film's atmosphere, it doesn't really subvert or touch on the use of technology to make its point. I think the film is better classified as straight found footage. I think the movie grips the label largely because the director uses an in-universe Tumblr blog and several shorts to expand upon its lore, much in the manner of creepypastas and other works of internet horror fiction. As for “The Outwaters” itself, it is a mildly interesting, sometimes tedious, occasionally creepy attempt to reinvent the found footage format. [6.5/10]

The She Beast (1966)

In his brief life, Michael Reeves directed three horror icons. Before making “The Sorcerers” with Boris Karloff and “Witchfinder General” with Vincent Price, he was just a film-obsessed kid who ran away from home to show up on Don Siegel's doorstep. This gumption got Reeves a job as on Siegel's next movie, the first of several such gigs. While functioning as an assistant director on “Castle of the Living Dead” – starring another genre giant, Christopher Lee – he would impress producer Paul Manlansky. Manlansky would fund Reeves' first feature as a director, “The She Beast.” It would star another well-known horror luminary, Barbara Steele. Steele was paid one grand for one day, which stretched on for 18 hours, much to her annoyance. The film received little attention, at the time, but it would begin Reeves' short, fruitful career as a distinctive filmmaker.

200 years ago, in Transylvania, a hideous witch named Bardella is executed by a Christian mob. With her dying breath, she curses the village, promising to return and seek vengeance on their descendants. In the modern day – 1966 – married couple Phillip and Veronica are vacationing the same area. Following a nasty experience at a sleazy motel, they are involved in a traffic accident, the couple's Volkswagen crashing into the same lake Bardella was executed in. The witch's spirit trades places with Veronica's body, soon rising again to fulfill her prophecy. The thoroughly baffled Philip teams up with the alcoholic last member of the Von Helsing family to reserve the curse, while butting heads with local Communist authorities. 

It takes a while to reveal its true intentions but “The She Beast” is actually a sarcastic rebuttal of the typical Italian gothic horror flicks of the time. The plot, clearly inspired by other Steele films like “Black Sunday,” is primarily set in the modern day, instead of the 1800s. The Van Helsing character, explicitly identified as a member of the same family that fought Dracula, is depicted as a drunken lay-about who comes off as more eccentric than wise. Moving such a story into the modern day places this Transylvanian tale squarely into Soviet territory. Which means Von Helsing has been disposed of his royal title and wealth, forced to drive around in a comically small car. The heroes must deal with a group of buffoonish Communist cops as they attempt to hunt the evil witch. A witch, by the way, who is not really all that threatening. She mostly shrieks goofily while trying to surprise her victims. She spends several long scenes stored in a vegetable crisper and unconscious on the floor of a van. 

Stories that place ancient horrors in the then-modern context of Soviet Europe are not totally unheard of. Yet any attempt at political subtext in “The She Beast” is muddy, at best. Bardella murders the sleazy hotel owner with a sickle, which she then tosses aside and lands perfectly on a near-by hammer. That seems to align the witch with the restrictive government, praying on Romania's citizens. Yet she's opposed by the Communist law enforcement too and her victims are equally unsympathetic, making it unclear where the film lies on the issue of socialism. One thing is obvious though: “The She Beast” does not paint a very flattering picture of life in a Soviet bloc country. The hotel owner spies on Veronica and Philip as they get intimate, before later attempting to rape his niece. The cops are incompetent and absurd, the truck drivers are criminals, and all the surroundings are dingy and rundown. 

Apparently, the comical car chase scene was shot by a second unit director without Reeves' knowledge, who had neither the time nor budget to re-shoot them. I imagine Reeves was well aware of how goofy and campy much of his movie was though. Still, there are several striking and notable scenes in “The She Beast.” The opening, where the witch is impaled and dunked in a lake, recalls the witch-hunting sadism of the director's best known film. Several shots are quite striking. Such as the camera peering out of Bardella's tomb or a slow tracking shot backwards, revealing her curling clawed hand. The final moment even proves a little chilling, as the evil is seemingly vanished before Barbara Steele's distinctive eyes and wicked grin suggests otherwise.

Steele, by the way, only appears at the beginning and the end. Most of the movie is devoted to Ian Oligvy and John Karlson, as Philip and Von Helsing, bumbling after the almost comically ineffectual witch. The movie definitely could've used more of Steele's unforgettable screen presence. As goofy as “The She Beast” is, you can see some of the intensity and style that would make Reeves' later films cult classics. Had he not died at the age of 25, who knows what the filmmaker might've achieved. He left behind a short, distinctive filmography and this is certainly an off-beat, if not wholly successful, start to it. [6/10]

Cabinet of Curiosities: Dreams in the Witch House

When I compared  Guillermo del Toro's “Cabinet of Curiosities” to “Masters of Horror,” I did it without realizing both series featured takes on the same Lovecraft story, the oft-adapted “Dreams in the Witch House.” Though it seems unlikely anyone would consider Catherine Hardwicke – of “Twilight” infamy – the same sort of master as Stuart Gordon. The episode follows Walter Gillman. When he was a young boy, he watched his twin sister die and her spirit dragged away to a spectral forest. This gave him a lifelong obsession with spiritualism. He finds most mediums to be fakes but, upon taking a mind-expanding drug, discovers travel to the other side is possible. He takes up residence in the home of a notorious 17th century witch named Keziah Mason. As Walter endeavors to save his sister's soul, he becomes a target for the still hungry spirit of Keziah. 

Mika Watson's script takes little from Lovecraft's story, almost to the point of being an in-name-only adaptation. Howard Phillip's concept of mathematics as witchcraft and visions of non-Euclidean alternate dimensions are mostly discarded for fuzzily defined magic. The script here devotes entirely too much time to explaining every single thing that is happening. The drug Walter does is named and its effects repeatedly described. The exact nature of the nether realm his sister is trapped in is breathlessly elaborated on. Right before the last act kicks in, yet more details concerning the magic ritual are dumped on us. Not a single moment of ambiguity or mystery is allowed to exist within this hour. 

Here in 2023, I know we've all come around to understanding that the backlash to the “Twilight” phenomenon was partially driven by sexism. Surely, we can also acknowledge this as true while also admitting that original movie is still not very good, right? Because “Dreams in the Witch House” functions about as well as you'd expect from the director of “Twilight.” There's one effective moment here, where Walter has a nightmare of the witch looming over his bed. Otherwise, the scares here range from hammy to laughable. There's a focus on dodgy CGI effects. The witch's human-faced rat familiar is in full sight from his first appearance, often speaking in a comical Scottish accent and motioning directly to the camera. The witch floats and shrieks at the camera, summons CGI vines to ensnare people, while the little sister glimmers like glowing hologram.

Even though Hardwicke has made other movies, I couldn't stop thinking of “Twilight” during this laborious hour. “Dreams in the Witch House” is really structured like a Y.A. adaptation. There's a magical MacGuffin introduced strictly to defeat the villain, deployed in a climatic moment. All the cinematography is highly color-graded and overly dark, in a way that reminds me of the perpetually overcast vampire romance. Even the fact that this stars Rupert Gint, forever known for his role in the “Harry Potter” films, make this connection unavoidable. By the far the worst moment occurs when our heroes take shelter in a church and a nun swears at the witch as she approaches. I'll admit, Netflix crashed a few minutes before the episode finished but it was so shitty that I really had no desire to watch the rest of it. I'm shocked that a Lovecraft devotee like del Toro would be comfortable putting his name on this truly unfortunate adaptation. [4/10]

Chucky: He Is Risen Indeed

Picking up where the last episode left off, “He Is Risen Indeed” begins with Devon and Lexy discovering that Andy is still alive, tied down and slowly being cannibalized by an unhinged Chucky calling himself “The Colonel.” It also becomes apparent that Dr. Mixter, the therapist that recommends the kids come to Incarnate Heart, is revealed as working with Chucky. The Colonel heads back to the school to deal with Buff Chucky, currently being worshiped by the nun who has mistaken him for an incarnation of Christ. The teens gather together to defend against the inevitable attack from the dolls. Meanwhile, Glenda and Kyle deal with the original Chucky's spirit inside Nica. 

“He Is Risen Indeed” represents that inevitable, somewhat insufferable point in the serialized horror TV show season where all the subplots start to get cleaved through. Plot lines and peripheral characters are dealt with in quick succession. The different Chuckies floating around are whittled down. Certain characters that probably aren't so important are pushed to the side. (If not killed off, since this is that kind of show.) This has the side effect of revealing which events in this series were essentially unimportant diversions introduced to fill the eight hours of time this show has in a season. Stuff like this is why I don't usually watch TV shows like this. 

Having said that, there are some good moments here. The relationship between “Charlie” and Dr. Mixter is clearly interesting and something I want to see more of. Andy's fate is especially fucked-up. The Colonel proves to be an amusingly bizarre character, with his exit from the show giving me a good laugh. “Good Chucky” is clearly the most interesting plot line the show has going at this point, especially in the conflict he feels between the innocent personality that has developed and the murderous instincts that are still inherent in him. Good Chucky's interactions with Dr. Mixter are definitely a highlight. That builds to a nice, climatic moment, one of the few times a murder scene on this show has genuinely surprised me and bummed me out. I'm still entertained by “Chucky” at this point but the show definitely needs to arrive at the point soon. [6/10]

Halloween 2022: September 26th

The Roost (2005)

Ti West's origins as a filmmaker are unassuming. Wikipedia tells me that he grew up in Delaware, went to the School for Visual Arts, and randomly appeared in an issue of Teen People in 2001. He made two shorts in film school, neither of which seemed to attract much attention. It was his friendship with Larry Fessenden that gave the young director his chance to make a feature. How many promising young filmmakers got their start because they ran into Larry Fessenden at a party? (West is also buddies with Lena Dunham, so he probably has rich people New York art scene connections but I don't want to think about that.) That feature would be "The Roost" and it made a minor stir in the indie horror scene in 2005. 

"The Roost's" story is simple as can be. On Halloween night, a group of four college-age people travel to a mutual friend's wedding. While traversing a dark road, something strikes their windshield and forces them into a ditch. Looking for help, they approach the near-by home of an elderly couple, who disappeared under mysterious circumstances earlier in the night. Taking shelter in the barn on the property, the group soon uncovers a horrifying secret: The barn is inhabited by vicious bats, whose fatal bites resurrects their victims as blood-thirsty ghouls. 

West's early work is notable for not being especially narrative driven. Instead, his films focus more on sticking characters in a distinctive setting and letting tension slowly build until shit hits the fan in the last act. "The Roost" shows that this style was apparent right from the beginning. The weaknesses of this approach are already obvious: "The Roost's" characters are indistinct and often interchangeable. The performances seem partially improvised and none of the cast members are that memorable. The biggest criticism that can be leveled against this style – which would eventually receive the unfortunate nickname of "mumblegore" – is that it leads to stories where not a lot happens. About 40% of "The Roost" is devoted to vaguely-defined characters hanging out in or wondering around dark, uninhabited locations. 

Yet something separates West's approach from tedious B-movies like "Land of the Minotaur." It's what the zoomers call "the vibes." "The Roost" was shot on film, which lends the movie a gorgeously grainy appearance. Cinematographer Eric Robbins centers each shot in a precise manner, defining a sense of isolation and discomfort early on. The sparse sound design helps recreate the feeling of being stranded out in the country on a lonely night. This, when combined with the occasionally creepy musical score, sets the viewer for some grade-A scares. The appearance of ravenous zombies is totally unexpected and catches the audience off-guard. The reappearance of the elderly couple, whose absence throughout the story makes us curious what role they'll play, is a tightly executed sequence. West is so confident in his ability to engineer a good thrill that he even fucks around, showing a fake-out jump-scare from the inside out. The audience is aware of what's coming but it still gets a jump out of us. 

"The Roost" stripes its premise down so much that no explanation is provided for where the vicious bats come from or why they spread a vampiric condition. That's not the only sign West was more accustomed to making shorts. “The Roost” is extended to a thin, eighty run time with a clever framing device. Tom Noonan appears as a horror host in wrap-around segments, presenting the movie from the confines of a black-and-white haunted host decorated with cardboard tombstones. This matches “The Roost's” retro aesthetic, making it seem more like a public domain thriller from the late seventies. West takes this device even further. There's a spooky radio drama heard in the background, all throughout the film, adding to this Halloween atmosphere. The film randomly flashes into black-and-white. Eventually, Noonan expresses disappointment with the story's ending, rewinding things so a more exciting climax can play out. In its final moments, the audience even becomes a character within the film, some found footage style thrills capping the movie off before the end credits roll. 

“The Roost” attempting to recreate a throwback style predicts the grindhouse revival that would kick off a few years after this one. Yet it lacks much of the irony that would sometimes make those movies too smug, for an overall more enjoyable experience. The only sign that the movie is a 2000s production, aside from the modern clothes, are those CGI bats. West was smart enough to cloak those in shadows and use them sparingly, so the effect is almost seamless. “The Roost” didn't break out of the indie horror bubble but did win strong notices from the Fangoria crowd. Going back and watching now, it's fascinating to see that most of West's stylistic instincts were intact from the beginning. Even earlier on, he knew how to employ his particular style to create some chills, even if his debut is simplistic in many other ways. [7/10]

The Ghost (1963)

A few days ago, I was talking about how Christopher Lee would often take easy paychecks by lending his star power to low-budget horror movies made across Europe. While this was basically a side-gig for Lee, in-between his famous franchise films and iconic roles, some stars essentially made their entire careers out of this path. None more so than Barbara Steele. The British born model and actress would see her career totally redirected after appearing in Bava's beloved “Black Sunday.” The string of gothic thrillers she made afterwards are all fairly derivative of each other, which did nothing to stop Steele's cult following from blossoming. Which brings me to “The Ghost,” a pretty typical example. 

John Hichcock is a wealthy doctor living in the Irish countryside in the early 1900s. His ailing health has confined him to a wheelchair and caused him to pursue spiritualism as a hobby. His doctor, Livingstone, has been injected him with different types of poisons in a last ditch effort ot save the man. Livingstone is also carrying on an affair with Margaret, Hichcock's considerably younger wife. Bored of being his caretaker, Margaret plots with Livingstone to kill her husband. After successfully poisoning him, the two discover that the doctor's vault can only be opened with a key buried with him. This proceeds a series of supernatural events, Margaret becoming convinced her late husband's ghost is haunting her.

“The Ghost” is actually the second movie director Riccardo Freda – credited in the U.S. dub as “Robert Hampton” – made with Steele in 1963. Aside from the name of her ill-fated husband, “The Ghost” has something else in common with “The Horrible Dr. Hichcock” too. This is another movie where Steele is caught in a clear gaslighting plot. Unlike the collaboration between the star and director, the details of the manipulation are a lot more straight-forward this time. You have a clear idea of where the story is going and there's none of the earlier film's surprise depravity. “The Ghost” also takes a lot longer to get to the spooky stuff. There's a solid half-hour before Steele and her guy off the husband and the supernatural vengeance begins, with lots of red herrings and laborious set-up along the way. 

Not that plot is ever a high priority in Italian horror, least of all in Barbara Steele movies. The area these films excel at is the atmospheric locations. “The Ghost” certainly has plenty of that. The sprawling gothic manor this time includes a fog-strewn cemetery just outside the home. You can bet your ass Barbara Steele walks down a dark corridor while carrying a candelabra, the lights being blown out in a nice touch. In fact, “The Ghost” is full of effective elements like that. A door creaks open and cast a blade of light into a shadowy room. Rotting hands emerge from the blackness and blood drips on a music box. The titular ghost, with his crooked teeth, makes a few spooky entrances, usually accompanied by much foreshadowing. That music box melody is a nice reoccurring element throughout the film, creating a little suspense and adding a lyrical quality to many scenes. 

“The Ghost's” Technicolor images are never quite as searing as those in “The Horrible Dr. Hichcock.” Yet it doe feature one showstopper moment: When a frenzied Steele attacks with a strait-razor, blood pouring down the screen. That speaks to the intensity of Steele's performance here. When Margaret and her lover learn that her late husband's fortune is locked in a vault they can't access, she falls to her knees and wails. In the second half, Steele's penetrating eyes are used in service of some insane staring. It's Steele at her most histrionic. Considering she's playing more-or-less the villain protagonist of this story, it's a fitting acting choice. The rest of the cast is stately and often badly dubbed but Steele is always enchanting, whether she's scheming or screaming.

That final act is when I fully came around on “The Ghost.” The movie takes too long to get to its point. All the twists and turns are totally predictable. It's script isn't as amusingly perverse as “The Horrible Dr. Hichcock,” it lacks the Freudian layers of “Castle of Blood,” while the visuals are not quite as atmospheric as “Nightmare Castle.” (And it goes without saying that none of these films compete with “Black Sunday.”) Yet any movie that ends in multiple murders with Barbara Steele's unforgettable eyes peering into the camera with insane glee simply can't be bad in my book. For fans of this strain of nonsense, “The Ghost” will prove to be another fine distraction, even if you can easily guess how it'll play out from the first frame. [7/10]

Lights Out: Dead Man's Coat

Here in 2022, it's easy to forget that radio was the primary medium when televisions became commercially available. This being the case, it's unsurprising to read that a lot of early TV shows were based on popular radio programs. Horror stories and thrillers were popular on the airwaves all throughout the thirties and forties. “Lights Out” was among the most well-known radio shows of its day, with its macabre plots and a pun-slinging host. This is probably why NBC took a chance on a televised version in 1946. When “Lights Out” made the leap to the small screen, it became the beginning of something new: The very first horror anthology TV show broadcast directly into people's homes.

As was common for early television, “Lights Out” episodes were broadcast live. The only copies of the show are kinescope recordings. Despite that, a fair share of episodes survive. Among that lot, “Dead Man's Coat” struck me as the most interesting. Mr. Francis, a mean-spirited businessman, loves to harass his butler, Gregory. Francis hears the legend that wearing a dead man's cast, retrieved from his grave, can grant invisibility. He dismisses it at first but eventually comes around to the idea, forcing Gregory to assist him in the grave-robbery. Successfully turning invisible, Francis uses the power to murder his business rivals, tormenting the fearful Gregory into helping. 

I chose “Dead Man's Chest” out of “Lights Out's” surviving episodes because it stars Basil Rathbone. While Rathbone surely would've been delightful as the murderous villain, he's instead cast as the fearful accomplice. Rathbone is fittingly kowtowed, as the terrified butler. (And you can tell this was a live broadcast. Rathbone flubs at least one of his line, saying “dead man's grave,” instead of “coat,” in an early scene.) William Post Jr. plays the invisible killer and it's a frankly cartoonish performance. Post bellows wickedly while exaggerating every evil impulse the character has. I suspect over-the-top performances like this played better on radio than TV. The same could be said for a script that gets moving so quickly, that it barely explains any of its supernatural set-up. 

Despite that, “Dead Man's Coat” is still pretty entertaining. There's some clever in-camera effects. The scenes of Post digging up the grave have a nice foggy ambiance to them. The invisibility effects are crude, actors merely pantomiming an invisible man's attacks. Yet the unseen killer's presence is nicely signaled by a puff of smoke. The camera is mostly stationary, as you'd expect from these stone age days of TV. This makes the eye-catching angles even more striking. “Dead Man's Chest” also has a nicely ironic ending. This shows that the morality tale structure of horror anthology shows – where evildoers reek havoc but inevitably get what's coming to them – was part of the genre from the beginning. Though obviously as antiquated as can be, “Dead Man's Coat” intrigues me enough that I think I'll check out more of “Lights Out” in the future. [7/10]

Chucky: Twice the Grieving, Double the Loss

The subplots start to pile up in the penultimate of “Chucky's” first season. While at the funeral for Jake's aunt, Devon officially breaks up with him. Jake decides to run away from Hackensack. As he's getting ready to leave the city, he sees a Good Guys doll being delivered. He buys the doll off the delivery man and figures out it's being sent to the former home of Charles Lee Ray. Simultaneously, Devon has gone to investigate this same location, discovering Nica tied up in the basement. Meanwhile, Chucky starts to forge a relationship with Junior, trying to convince the boy to murder much the same way he did Jake and Caroline. Tiffany is also floating around the story, with a villainous scheme of her own. 

If it's not evident by now, I always find episodes like this to be the most tedious in a show's season. Episodes like “Twice the Grieving, Double the Loss” don't really have a story or structure of their own. They simply represents the inevitable point when the show writers have to bring all the divergent plot threads they've been developing all season together. This means cleaving through a lot of the chaff. It's becoming clear now that Lexy's sister and mom are subplots that aren't going to amount to much. Devon has to run into Nica, simply so those two threads justify their own existence. Even if it's a bit of a reach to get to that moment. Andy Barclay and Kyle are also heading towards a confrontation with the evil doll, yet another storyline taking up screen time. The suggestion that there's some deeper connection between Junior's family and Tiffany just feels like another convoluted diversion.

With all this melodrama, it's easy to loose sight of what I enjoy about this show. Breaking up Jake and Devon, just after their relationship was starting to get involving, is a misstep.  Yet, when “Chucky” gets out of its own way, it can still manage to be entertaining. There's a well executed murder scene in the last half, with the doll himself being used as a bludgeon. This leads to an unexpected, and energetic, musical moment. The flashback to Chucky and Tiff's past, which seems to be leading directly into the original “Child's Play's” events, are amusingly lurid. Hearing these two psychopaths argue about murder is good for a laugh. The show seems to be planning big things in the next episode but I wish it took less of a contrived path to get there. [6/10]