Halloween 2021: October 13th

The Vanishing (1988)

Spoorloos

In the days before streaming services and high-speed Internet made cutting cable the easiest decision ever, I was at the mercy of whatever was on TV. At the time, cable was full of these retrospective clip shows, where comedians and B-list celebs would reminisce about various nostalgic topics. One of the better examples of this genre was Bravo's "100 Scariest Movie Moments." The list was actually much deeper than expected, with a decent grasp of horror history. It even introduced me to a couple of films, like 1988's "The Vanishing." The problem with this is the highlighted moment from the film was its ending. Naturally, when I caught up with the film and knew where everything was going, I was underwhelmed. It's been years since then, so it's probably time for me to revisit this classic of modern Dutch cinema.

Rex and his girlfriend, Saskia, are on a road trip through rural France. Following an incident where they run out of gas and are almost hit by a truck in a tunnel, they arrive at a rest stop. Saskia heads to the bathroom... And Rex never sees her again. He spends the next three years obsessed with her disappearance, plastering the city with missing poster. After appearing on TV, the man who abducted Saskia — an unassuming French family man — approaches him. He agrees to take Rex to Saskia and show him, first hand, what she experienced. Along the way, the two get to know each other. 

"The Vanishing" would not work as well as it does if we didn't care about Rex and Saskia'a relationship. Considering her disappearance is the inciting incident of the entire story, the movie has to work very fast to get us invested in this couple. It pulls it off. Through the early scenes, of the two talking about dreams on the road or goofing around in the gas station parking lot, we quickly grow to like these two. Johanna ter Steege enlivens Saskia with such an infectious energy. She seems real, alive, fully fleshed-out, even if she's only in a few scenes. Moreover, Gene Bervoets makes us believe that Rex is really in love with her. They share a deep, emotional connection and it makes everything that follows far more effecting.

Another element that makes “The Vanishing” a first-rate thriller – and what makes it fitting viewing for a Halloween marathon – is its villain. Raymond Lemorne, played brilliantly by a low-key Bernard-Pierre Donnadieu, has to be among cinema's most chilling sociopaths. And it's all because of how ordinary he is. After Saskia's disappearance, the film flashes back and shows Raymond's methodical process. How he went about picking the best place to abduct someone, where he won't be recognized. How he devised a scheme to lure someone back to his car. Yet we also see Raymond with his wife and kids. They bake a birthday cake with him and present him with a scrapbook of his life. He plays with his daughters at his country cabin. He's not a depraved serial killer or a mad genius. He's just... A normal guy. One can't help but imagine that there are actual killers like this out there, men who occasionally, randomly perform hideous acts and then go back to their humdrum lives, no one any the wiser. 

During their long drive together, Rex and Raymond get to know each other. Raymond talks about how he realized he was a sociopath, during an incident where he leapt from a window as a child. How, after heroically saving a child from drowning, he calmly decided he must perform an equally evil act. They discuss their names and their meaning. More than anything else, they discuss the idea of destiny. Of doing unpredictable things to escape their predestined fates, even though these choices inevitably lead them there. In an early scene, Saskia recalls a dream of floating through space in a golden egg. Later on, Rex has the same nightmare. This is the film heavily foreshadowing its ending. Even seemingly innocuous scenes, like Raymond and his family playfully screaming at their country home, predicts the ending. It's all leading towards that grim point. Much the same way everyone's life leads towards unpredictable tragedy sometimes. If these events are unavoidable, do we truly have free will? It's a heavy topic to tackle and one built right into “The Vanishing's” DNA.

And what of that ending? You really can't talk about “The Vanishing” without spoiling it. After promising to show him what Saskia went through, Rex agrees to drink some drugged coffee... And he awakens in a coffin, buried underground. The camera work is intimate and tight in this scene, the viewer seeing only what Rex can see in his darkened, confined prison. As Rex screams, his words degrading into incoherent ranting, you realize his fate is sealed. It's such a grim, unnerving final moment. Everything had been building towards this and yet it's still so damn disturbing. Director George Sluizer directs the denouncement with a certain dispassionate detachment, emphasizing the theme of characters caught in a tragic destiny they can't escape. 

Upon release in 1988, “The Vanishing” was critically acclaimed. It was the Netherland's submission for Best Foreign Language Film at the Oscars that year. Which certainly made sense, as it was obviously the most beloved Dutch film of the year. Yet the Academy disqualified it, due to containing just as much French as it does Dutch. Because the Academy is fixated on dumb-ass regulations like that. Like many great foreign language horror movies, it was followed by a mediocre American remake that added a shitty happy ending. Unlike most of those remakes, the original director handled that one himself. Regardless of that, I'm glad I revisited “The Vanishing.” It's actually a pretty brilliant film, beautifully acted and fantastically written in the point of making a chilling point about how much control we have over our fate. [9/10]

Teenage Caveman (2001)

Most of the directors who were hired for the Creature Feature project could be described as “up-and-comers.” The majority had only made one, maybe two, movies before directing their monster flick. Some of them had an indie hit, to one degree or another, but none were really known elements. “Teenage Caveman,” however, was directed by an honest-to-goodness auteur. Larry Clark's “Kids” was a lightning rod of controversy, conversation, and critical praise in 1995. His follow-ups, “Another Day in Paradise” and “Bully,” made less of a splash. Yet Clark was still clearly in a different category than the other Creature Feature directors. (To the point that I've already reviewed his movies before, though it's been a while.) Having a filmmaker with such a distinct style would, it turns out, be more of a challenge than a benefit to “Teenage Caveman.” 

The only thing Clark's “Teenage Caveman” has in common with Roger Corman's “Teenage Caveman” is the idea of mankind retreating back to the caves following a global cataclysm. Here, it's a pandemic, instead of nuclear war, and this information is revealed at the film's beginning, not its end. Otherwise, it's a new story: David's dad, his tribe's religious leader, tries to rape his girlfriend, Sarah. David stabs his father dead and, with a group of friends, flees the community. They wander into the ruins of Seattle and are swallowed up in a sand storm. The teens awaken in a secret laboratory, where they meet Neil and Judith. These two are immortal humans who introduce the teens to fucking, booze, and drugs... As well as a sexually transmitted virus that turns people into mutated monsters. 

“Teenage Caveman” has a message. David's father uses his authority in the cave community to sexually abuse the females around him and manipulate everyone else. While they seem different as can be at first, Judith and Neil are later revealed to be similar. They also lord their authority over the teens, trying to control them. The idea is that all authority, all power, corrupts eventually... Yet you'll be forgiven for missing this theme. Clark cooks up a premise that allows him to indulge his most excessive impulses. “Teenage Caveman” devotes most of its screen time to its youthful characters screaming profanity, doing drugs, drinking, partying, and wearing little or no clothing. There's a full-on orgy scene in the middle, which still only accounts for about half of its non-stop sexual content. 

I have, from time to time in the past, been known to be a Larry Clark apologist. Yet his obsession with getting barely legal performers to bare it all and behave badly has definitely grown more difficult to defend over the years. Clark taking a sci-fi/horror story like “Teenage Caveman” and using it as an excuse to indulge his favorite fascination shows his obsession to be all-consuming. While Clark clearly loves showing these teens fucking and getting fucked-up, he has little interest in generating suspense, fear, or unease. The sequences devoted to one of the girls freaking out, right before the super-STD causes her to explode, is filled with annoying visual quirks. The gore scenes are awkwardly framed and cheesy. The make-up used to bring the monstrous transformation are pretty good – again, you'd expect as much from Stan Winston Studios – but Clark shows no aptitude in making the climatic duel exciting.

It's not just that “Teenage Caveman” is preoccupied with teenage fuckery and fumbles every attempt to be a horror movie. It's that almost everything about the movie is clumsy or incompetent. The acting is mostly flat or embarrassing. Richard Hillman is doing a bad Jason Mewes impersonation as Neil. Tiffany Limos is blandly melodramatic as Judith. Stephen Jasso is broad and gawky as one of the other teens. The script has the characters' motivations, especially those of David and Sarah, changing from scene-to-scene. Much of the dialogue – including lines like “I smell pussy!” – is uproariously bad. Many scenes have a washed-out, gauzy quality to their visuals. The pacing is languid. Even the sound design is bad, as every slap to the face is followed by the same overly loud, artificial sounding smacking noise. 

Clark directed “Teenage Caveman” after making “Ken Park,” though it was released first. Many of the actors reappear. That was the film were Clark abandoned most pretenses and basically began making pornography with a weird moralizing streak. That's about when the critical establishment turned on him. A movie like this really stuck out among the Creature Feature line-up. Unsurprisingly, people expecting a monster movie and getting this instead has left “Teenage Caveman” with a rotten reputation. Maybe even the producers felt the same way, as they didn't release “Teenage Caveman” until six months after the others. There's no doubt that the movie is a fiasco. Though I do think “How to Make a Monster” is slightly worst, if only because Clark owning this material so completely – for better or worst – makes it more interesting. Ultimately, “Teenage Caveman” only being the second worst entry speaks poorly of the entire Creature Feature series, an experiment that failed to live up to its promising idea. [4/10]

Are You Afraid of the Dark?: The Tale of Laughing in the Dark

I haven't been too impressed with the previous episodes of “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” I've reviewed during these Halloween marathons. Nevertheless, the show remains a beloved staple of millennial nostalgia, so I feel compelled to keep giving it a shot. “Tale of Laughing in the Dark” is widely regarded as one of the program's scariest episodes. It tells the story of Josh and Weegee, two young boys at an amusement park. Weegee is too scared to visit the fun house – said to be haunted by the smoke of a cigar-smoking, bank-robbing clown named Zeebo – but Josh isn't frightened. He goes inside and steals the big red nose off the Zeebo the Clown mannequin. Josh brags about his bravery and belittles his friend. But when he's alone at home that night, Zeebo the Clown comes after him and demands the return of his nose.

“Tale of Laughing in the Dark” is, admittedly, more effective than the previous episodes of “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” that I've covered. Granted, it still has a ton of kiddie bullshit. There's a heavy-handed moral, Josh being punished for his crime of being an asshole to his friend. (And his petty thievery too, I guess.) The direction is hammy, zooming in on the kid's gasping face. The goofy carnival music on the soundtrack doesn't exactly build dread or tension. Many of Zeebo's antics, meant to cause unease, are instead just goofy. Like leaving a large shoe-print, the letter Z in the middle, in a puddle of spilled chocolate pudding. Or turning a bowl of overcooked spaghetti into a bunch of stinky cigars. Also, the episode has a deeply underwhelming ending.

Still, I have to give this one some credit. Zeebo is pretty creepy, as far as kids show antagonists go. The show makes the smart decision to never actually put the ghostly clown on-screen. Aside from the exaggerated mannequin seen at the fun house, the only sign of Zeebo's presence are clouds of cigar smoke. He makes taunting phone calls, speaking with a raspy voice and cackling in an unhinged manner. I can definitely see a youth with coulrophobia – much like one of the kids in the framing device – being seriously freaked out by this. I'm glad that Zeebo's antics are fittingly clownish while also being exclusively malevolent. The way a creepy clown should be. I would never go so far as to call it scary but, for the five-to-eight-year-old crowd this show was intended for, it's spooky enough. [6/10]

The Big Shave (1967)

After watching some of the early short films of David Cronenberg recently, it got me in the mood to look at an early work from another great North American director. “The Big Shave” was Martin Scorsese's third or fourth short film, made the same year as his non-professional feature debut, “Who's That Knocking at My Door?” The five minute film's premise is simple enough. It concerns a young man who steps up to his sink, while Benny Berigan's “I Can't Get Started” plays. He wets his face, lathers on some shaving cream, and shaves. Then he does it again. He keeps shaving, cutting away the layers of skin, until every corner of his lower face is dripping with blood.

An alternate title for “The Big Shave” is “Viet '67.” This has caused many people to interpret the film as a metaphor for the U.S.'s involvement in Vietnam. How the main character's extended act of self-mutilation reflects the United States' self-destructive actions, of sending young men to die for a pointless war overseas. You can also see this reflected in the musical choice, where Berigan sings of traveling the world in a plane, having romantic success all over the planet... Except when he “just can't get started with you.” It's pretty easy to see that as a metaphor for American imperialism, infecting every corner of the globe, but being rebuffed in Vietnam, despite repeated attempts to infect it. 

This is a perfectly acceptable reading of the film but I don't think it explains why “The Big Shave” is so effective. The short is disturbing because of the way it contrasts the mundane with the horrific. Scorsese takes a totally normal, every day action – shaving – and combines it with distressing violence. We've all cut ourselves while shaving. We all know what that feels like. That makes the short's extended, graphic violence all the more relatable. Making this more upsetting is how relaxed the young man is during this. He even smiles near the end as he slashes his throat open. When further contrasted with the upbeat, commonplace music – something Scorsese would master in his features – the violence becomes even more unsettling.

For the work of a film student, “The Big Shave” is especially impressive. It's a short full of striking imagery. The bright red blood, thick and corn syrupy, dripping all over the white sink is immediately memorable. So is a moment where the blood drips down to the young man's feet. The editing is precise and to the point. It's clear, even this early in his career, Scorsese had a keen understanding on how to film cinematic violence and string images together in a way that makes an impact. “The Big Shave,” simple as it is, is still a cringe-inducing and fantastically effective five minutes. [9/10]

Halloween 2021: October 11th

Dial M for Murder (1954)

Among Alfred Hitchcock's many classic films, not all of them were favorites of the director himself. In the years after “Dial M for Murder” was released, he was highly critical of the project. He considered it nothing more than a simple job, of transferring a popular stage play to celluloid, that was assigned to him. He was also annoyed that the studio, Warner Brothers, imposed shooting the movie in 3-D on him, just as the popularity of 3-D was about to die out. He felt that damaged the film's box office chances. Even if Hitch himself was dismissive of “Dial M for Murder,” the movie was popular with critics then and now. Fifty-seven years after it was first released, it is regarded as a classic. 

Former tennis pro Tony Wendice discovers his wife, Margot, is carrying on an affair with old friend and mystery author, Mark Halliday. Around the same time, he realizes he depends on his rich wife's money to survive. He hatches a plot to murder his wife, blackmailing an old college mate (and current criminal) named Swann into committing the act while he's out of the house. The scheme goes awry when Margot successfully stabs Swann to death while he's attempting to kill her. Margot is soon locked away for murdering the man, facing the death sentence, forcing Tony to change his plan. A nosy inspector from Scotland Yard attempts to unravel the truth.

As you'd probably expect from its roots as a stage show, “Dial M for Murder” is a dialogue-heavy movie. Among it's earliest scenes is a long exchange between Tony and Swann. The plan is laid out in excruciating detail, in-between long bouts of exposition where Tony explains how he knows Swann and how he intends to blackmail him into doing this. Of course, anyone who knows anything about writing knows the script would not be telling us this information unless something was going to go wrong. When it does, “Dial M for Murder's” proprieties change. As soon as the detective enters the story, it becomes something like an episode of “Columbo.” We, the viewer, knows how the crime happened. Now the entertainment value is derived from watching the characters discover that information too. 

The dialogue-driven story is not the only way we can tell “Dial M for Murder” was based on a stage play. Much of the movie takes place in-doors, in only one or two rooms. So much of the movie is interiors that the few exteriors, such as a shot of Grace Kelly walking down the street or the dramatic visual of her being photographed in a police line-up, really stick out. As much as Hitchcock disliked shooting the film in 3D, he ultimately used it to enliven a story that largely happens on one or two sets. The camera often creeps around the furniture. Objects like a lamp or a desk are foregrounded. A shot, peering down from the ceiling that places the chandelier closer to the viewer, is especially interesting. The three-dimensional visuals add depth to the setting, making “Dial M for Murder” a lot more interesting to look at than it otherwise might have been.

Like a lot of Hitchcock's thrillers, “Dial M for Murder” is not a perfect fit for a Halloween Horror-Fest. The movie is described better as a mystery, even though the viewer knows who the perpetrator will be from the very first scene. The score, or at least the opening and closing, are a bit too light-hearted for my taste. And yet, also like a lot of Hitchcock's thrillers, the film would influence grislier, future stories. The famous home invasion sequence was definitely an influence on the giallo genre. The focus is strictly on the terror of Margot is feeling in that moment, emphasized by the iconic shot of her hand reaching out towards the camera. Hitchcock frames the sequence almost like a sexual assault, as the attacker pins her down and lords over her body. The detail of the scissors sinking deeper into the man's back, after he falls backwards, feels like it probably made an impression on a young Dario Argento. You can see the DNA of this scene in any of the escalating murders of “Deep Red.” 

Aside from the virtuoso direction, the main pleasure of “Dial M for Murder” is its performances. Ray Milland, as Tony, is among the most genteel sociopaths ever to appear in film. When blackmailing Swann into murdering his wife, when coldly laying out every detail of the homicide, he never raises his voice or does anything outwardly malevolent. Instead, his tone is conversational and calm. The only time his mask of civility slips at all is when it looks like his scheme might be falling apart. Milland's utterly relaxed and charming demeanor makes Tony an all-the-more chilling villain.  John Williams, as the detective, is also fascinating to watch, as the gears turn and he puts two and two together. Grace Kelly, among the most prominent of Hitchcock's blondes, is certainly extremely vulnerable. Even if she's a bit too low-key in the second half, for my taste. 

“Dial M for Murder” wasn't just an obvious influence on the new breed of more violent murder mysteries that would follow in the sixties and seventies. It's also been directly remade several time. The play was re-staged for television multiple times. 1998's “A Perfect Murder” was a big budget, big screen remake, though with a number of alterations to the story. Considering the stage play has been successfully revived a number of times since Hitchcock's iteration, I imagine another filmed adaptation will follow eventually. While it doesn't rank among the director's masterpieces, “Dial M for Murder” is well executed, absorbing, and brilliantly acted. [7/10]

The Day the World Ended (2001)

The Creature Feature series of films didn't have much in the way of star power. The odd appearance of a slumming star like Dan Aykroyd or a known character actor like Clea DuVall were about it as far as “name” talent in these movies went. The monsters were the stars. Yet “The Day the World Ended,” the fourth in the series, probably had the most recognizable performers on its marquee. Nastassja Kinski and Randy Quaid were both pretty far from the A-list – and Stephen Tobolowsky was never there – by 2001. Yet all of them were a lot better known than most of the cast members in “She Creature” or “Earth Vs. the Spider.” I don't know if this gave the penultimate entry in this project any more prestige, compared to the others, but it's kind of interesting.

Jennifer Stillman, a child psychologist, arrives in the town of Sierra Vista. She has been hired as the new student therapist at the local elementary school. Her first day on the job, she sees Ben – a nerdy kid bullied and ostracized by both other students and faculty – beaten up by another student. He mysteriously bloodies the boy's nose with just a look. Jennifer attempts to bond with the troubled Ben, who has a fascination with aliens. She soon learns that Ben's father, town doctor Michael, actually adopted him. That Ben's birth mother told him his real dad was an extraterrestrial. That the townsfolk refuse to discuss the past with Jennifer. After a monster appears in town and begins to viciously murder people, Jennifer will uncover more dark secrets about Ben and his parentage.

Compared to the other films in the Creature Feature series, which have been pretty stingy with their star monsters, “The Day the World Ended” features a surprising amount of its murderous beast. Referred to as just the Creature in the film and credits, but called The Visitor on the action figure packaging, it's a pretty neat design. The green reptilian beast has a large, cycloptic eye, an expanding maw full of razor-sharp teeth, a grasping rib cage on its chest, and a mane of snake-like tentacles dangling from its head and back. All throughout the movie, he's hunting people down and crushing their heads or ripping their faces off. Granted, the beast is still mostly kept off-screen or in the shadows. Yet “The Day the World Ended” does earn points for falling thoroughly into the “monster on the loose” genre. A sequence where the Visitor attacks the village diner in the middle-of-the-day is even mildly suspenseful. Throw in a hyper-intelligent dog and this would've been a pretty decent “Watchers” sequel. 

“The Day the World Ended” has enough intrigue in its story to keep me invested throughout its run time. The movie indulges in two common story tropes that I'm a sucker for: A Town with a Dark Secret and a misfit kid bonding with a sympathetic authority figure. From the minute Jessica arrives, it's apparent that the people of Sierra Vista are hiding something. Everyone treats her like an interloper and is suspicious of anyone digging into the past. Watching Ben, played decently by Bobby Edner, find a friend in Jessica is mildly touching. (Kinski is definitely slumming it here but is still clearly invested enough in the material.) It's even sort of sweet to see Randy Quaid as a somewhat likable father figure, reaching out to his oddball son. It isn't immediately apparent – though still pretty easy to guess – what the deal with the kid is. When the revelations come, and result in a bloody showdown with the monster, it's not without dramatic weight.

“The Day the World Ended” was directed by Terence Gross, a British filmmaker whose previous feature “Hotel Splendide,” received some respectable notices in 2000. Gross has a decent visual sense. The story seems to be set somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, if the use of fog and forest in the town is any indication. There's a certain warmth to the interiors here that I like. The film is also set in December and its bloody finale is partially lit by Christmas lights, a nice touch. “The Day the World Ended” still has its tacky touches. There's some cheap and ugly digital effects. The flashbacks and monster P.O.V. shots feature some shaky editing that bug me. Still, it looks a little less like a cheap TV movie than the other Creature Feature flicks.

By the way, “The Day the World Ended” has even less to do with the fifties B-movie it shares a title with than the other films in the Creature Feature series. The Roger Corman original is shown on a TV at one point. Besides that, this one has no resembles to the post-apocalyptic movie that ostensibly inspired it. In fact, the story does not take place on a day when the world ends, so the title is totally meaningless. It's definitely not high art. The script isn't anything special and the movie still has its clumsy moments. Still, by the lackluster standards set by the other movies under the Creature Feature banner, this is one of the better ones. It's got some okay performances, a cool enough monster that does some stuff, and a story that doesn't totally suck. That's faint praise, for sure, but it's still something. [6/10]

Alfred Hitchcock Presents (1986): A Very Happy Ending

Sometimes, one of the joys of watching old genre television is seeing famous actors before they really became stars. Such as this episode of the mostly forgotten eighties revival of “Alfred Hitchcock Presents,” which features a ten year old Joaquin Phoenix. (Still going by “Leaf” at the time.) “A Very Happy Ending” concerns Pagey, the deaf son of a rich man. He resents his father, who's never around, whom he blames for his deafness and the death of his mother. While sitting in an airport, waiting to be flown back home before his birthday party, he sees a mafia hitman named Irish Charley stab someone to death. The kid then attempts to blackmail Charley into knocking off his father. Over the course of a day, the two develop an unexpected relationship.

“A Very Happy Ending” has a strong premise that it utilizes effectively for the majority of its runtime. Even at this young an age, you can see why Joaquin Phoenix would go on to specialize in intense characters. The scene where Pagey rages against his dad is effective, all the child's resentment boiling over. He also plays well off Robert Loggia. The part of a blustery hitman is well within Loggia's wheelhouse but he's also as entertaining as he always is in the role. Watching the unrepentant killer explain to a child that he may not fully grasp the gravity of what he's asking here is interesting. There's some solid dramatic irony in seeing a professional murderer argue the moral high ground. 

There's a moment where it looks like “A Very Happy Ending” might be going in a truly unexpected, and exceptionally dark, direction. Charley finds the evidence the kid is blackmailing him with and raises his switchblade. It's dark in the room, so Pagey can't read his lips. Instead of mining this for tension, making the viewer wonder if a child is at risk, the episode wimps out hard. This foretells a twist ending that is a little too proud of itself and wraps the episode up on a sappy note. I'm also not sure what the point of making the kid deaf was. Though it does pay-off in a funny way in the host segment, where Hitchcock's words are inaudible under the noise of an airport bar. [6/10]

Tooth Fairy (2001)

Here in 2021, the formula required for a horror short film to go viral is well established. The sound design starts out quiet and soft. You establish a pattern as quickly as possible. After several minutes of build-up, you deliver something gory, shocking, or loud. When this is done well, you get internet classics like “Bedfellows” or “Lights Out.” When it's not, you get 99% of the horror shorts on Youtube. This formula must have had more novelty twenty years ago, when writer Joe Harris made his four-minute film “Tooth Fairy.” The short concerns a little boy being tucked into his bed, eager for the Tooth Fairy to appear that night and exchange his tooth for some money. His mother informs him to be a good boy and not to look when the Fairy appears. Naturally, he disobey and suffers the consequences. 

Like I said, “Tooth Fairy” is easy to predict. It's obvious from the minute the rules are introduced, the little boy is going to break them. The gruesome fate that befalls him is also heavily foreshadowed, by a shot of the kid's teddy bear with stitched up eyes. Jordan Johansen, the actor playing the little boy, gives a ridiculously hammy performance. The over-the-top faces he makes when seeing the (off-screen) Tooth Fairy are so goofy. Then again, maybe this matches the exaggerated script, which has a shining light showering the boy with gold coins before delivering his punishment. 

I will say this about Harris and “Tooth Fairy:” It's fairly well produced for what was obviously a low budget affair. The cinematography is decent, with a few mildly cool shots of the kid's bedroom or the mother rushing up the stairs. The use of colors, of cool greens and blues and glowing yellows, is well utilized. There's just no characters you care about here, meaning the heavily telegraphed and underwhelming final shock has little actual power. Yet I guess the idea of an evil Tooth Fairy, one of the few symbols of childhood innocence horror filmmakers hadn't corrupted at this point, caught someone's attention. The short must've circulated in the right offices and impressed the right people, because Harris – who has gone on to a successful career in comics – was able to sell a feature inspired by his movie. But more on that tomorrow... [5/10]

Halloween 2021: October 9th

Fiend Without a Face (1958)

A couple of days ago, I was talking about what a low-budget monster movie like “Equinox” is doing in the Criterion Collection, that prestige label usually dedicated to art house cinema and timeless classics. Criterion has put out plenty of “classy” horror movies too but it really does seem like someone at the Collection has a soft spot for cheesy B-movies. They've given the top-shelf treatment to “The Blob,” some late period Boris Karloff movies, “The X from Outer Space,” and the subject of today's review: “Fiend Without a Face.” The essayist at Criterion laud Arthur Crabtree's1958 monster movie for its “surrealism” and “pulp metaphors.” Which may be taking it too far but this cult classic does have a certain weirdo power that makes it stand out from the rest.

Somewhere in the Canadian countryside, near a U.S. radar installation, people are dying in a most mysterious way. The brains and spinal cords have seemingly been sucked out of each victim's skull. Major Jeff Cummings is sent in to investigate. He soon meets Professor Walgate. Walgate has been researching the power of the mind. A horde of invisible monsters, the creatures responsible for the deaths, swarm the building. Cummings, Walgate, his comely female assistant and several other people are trapped inside. Walgate soon reveals that he created the monsters – living thought projections – through the power of his own mind. These faceless fiends have been super-charged by the radar station's nuclear reactor. Who will survive the night?

Anyone who has seen “Fiend Without a Face” is sure to remember one thing about it: The bizarre, twitching, titular monsters. For most of the movie, the creatures are invisible. We only see their victims shriek and grasp at the air as they are seemingly strangled. In the final half-hour, the radiation levels tick up and the monsters visualize. They're ambulatory brains with attached spinal cords and cute little antenna. They leap through the air via creaky stop-motion effects, that make them look like they're flying. This sight is simultaneously goofy and uncanny, the psycho cerebrums truly acting like something from another world. The creatures are always accompanied by an absurd grumbling noise, adding to their otherworldly charm. They also bleed profusely when shot, making “Fiend Without a Face” surprisingly gory for 1958. 

By the time the monsters show up, they are really appreciated too. The first half of “Fiend Without a Face” is pretty slow. A lot of time is devoted to Major Cummings – played by Marshall Thompson, your typical stout-chinned fifties sci-fi movie leading man – investigating the mystery. This leads to scenes of him getting into a fist fight with some random guy and a long sequence where he's locked inside a tomb. How exactly those digressions contribute to the overall story, I can't remember right now. He also flirts gratuitously with Kim Parker, who is introduced in nothing but a bath towel. It's not unusual for movies of this type to be padded out, on the way to the monster mayhem, but I definitely felt it here.

Made at the end of the fifties, “Fiend Without a Face” does represent some interesting changing trends in pop culture at the time. In many ways, the film is not that different from the mad scientist movies that were popular in the thirties and forties. After all, the rampaging creatures are the results of a single man who pushed pass the boundaries of reason with his macabre experiments. Yet the Fiends are also powered by nuclear energy, playing into the Atomic Age anxieties that so many horror films of this time exploited. At the same time, “Fiends Without a Face” even resembles the zombie movies of the forthcoming decades. The way people boarded up a building, that is under siege by mindless creatures outside, definitely reminded me of “Night of the Living Dead.” (Crabtree would direct “Horrors of the Black Museum” directly after this one, which also felt like a movie positioned between two different eras.)

“Fiend Without a Face” is a bit slow-going at first but the oddball monster mayhem of the last act totally justifies anything that came before. Unsurprisingly, those leaping brain beasts made an impression on horror nerds of a certain age. This has led to several attempts to remake the movie. Roy Frumkes, director of “Document of the Dead,” has been trying to produce a new version since 2010. At one point in time, Lucky McKee was attached to direct a remake written by Adam Gierasch and Jace Anderson. McKee personally told me that his vision was “too outlandish for folks to get their heads wrapped around.” Until the remake materializes, like a thought projection, the original remains a somewhat unique monster movie. I don't know if it deserves to sit next to “Black Narcissus,” the next spine number up in the Criterion Collection, but I enjoy it nevertheless. [7/10]

How to Make a Monster (2001)

The Creature Feature series really did hire some interesting talent to direct their cheapie monster movies. Taiwanese-American auteur George Huang had begun his career with “Swimming with Sharks,” a critically acclaimed Hollywood satire that gained a lot of buzz in 1994. After that, Huang made 1997's “Trojan War.” If you've never heard of that movie, that's because it held the record for lowest box office gross ever for some time. The movie made $309 dollars after playing in one theater for one week. Understandably, that's the kind of flop a career has trouble bouncing back from. Still, one assumes it did raise the prestige of the Creature Feature project to have a filmmaker that could've once been called an indie darling involved. 

Clayton Software has a problem: Test players have deemed their latest in-development video game, “Evilution,” hopelessly lame and un-scary. A new team of developers – extremely nerdy sound expert Bug, aggressively edgy weapons specialist Hardcore, and pretentious A.I. developer Sol – are brought in to overhaul the complete beta in just four months. Whoever comes up with the scariest monster will earn a million dollar bonus. Business Peter Drummond and overworked intern Laura are tasked with keeping these eccentric developers on task. A workable prototype is completed, with Sol providing advanced A.I. for the game's villain. After lightning strikes the facility, the program becomes self-aware and uploads itself to the motion-capture rig. Still thinking it's playing the game, a murderous robotic demon is unleashed through the building.

Though ostensibly a horror movie, the first half of “How to Make a Monster” more closely resembles a workplace sitcom... A shitty workplace sitcom. The game devs all have such exaggerated, extreme personalities. Bug – played by Jason Marsden, whose voice will be familiar to any “Hocus Pocus” fans – is a twitchy and obnoxious computer nerd stereotype. Hardcore is obsessed with proving how, well, hardcore he is. He does shit like intentionally slice his finger with a knife and pick fights with the other workers. Tyler Mane's gruff performance does nothing to make this annoying character more likable. Sol, meanwhile, clearly thinks he's better than everyone else and lords that information. This trio is constantly bickering and in-fighting. They get into shenanigans involving a crossbow or making a naked Julie Strain bounce around. 

There are some attempt to add depth to these ridiculous characters caught in this absurd situation. Laura is the sole likable character in the film. The ever-lovable Clea DuVall plays the role and somehow maintains her dignity. Even though the final scene provides a deeply cynical and mean-spirited resolution for her character, punishing you for even halfway liking her. Laura has an abusive ex-boyfriend, played in an uncredited Danny Masterson in a presumably autobiographical cameo. I guess that provides her motivation, for when she emerges as the movie's hero, but its a subplot that ultimately goes nowhere. The script also makes repeated references to corporate espionage and spying, a plot point that pays off in a truly underwhelming fashion. All of this is aside from the movie's total disregard for the facts of game development and computer technology. 

Ultimately, the movie's cast is too broad and obnoxious for you to get invested in. This is a problem once the monster emerges and starts killing people. There's at least one heroic sacrifice, as well as a dramatic betrayal. Both come off as totally meaningless. It doesn't help that “How to Make a Monster” features easily the most underwhelming special effects of the Creature Features series thus far. The Evilution Demon assembles itself from the body parts of its victim. The applications on the actors, when revived as an undead techno zombie, look rubbery. The cybernetic monster moves awkwardly. When the humanoid flesh gets burned off, the resulting monstrous face looks like a cheesy rubber mask. The action figure definitely looks better than the movie version. I guess we should be thankful that the monster is created through practical effects. The glimpses we get at the video game features some PS1 level CGI graphics that are utterly laughable. 

Ya know, it's a shame “How to Make a Monster” sucks. I think a horror movie about dev crunch has potential. Yet awful characters, abrasive comedy, absurd writing, flat television-style direction, and some questionable special effects makes this a largely worthless motion picture. Predictably, this film did not help Huang's career much. He's directed a bit of TV, written a few movies, and done some producing and creative consulting. (It helps that he's friends with Robert Rodriguez.) Most recently, he was developing “Swimming with Sharks” into a Quibi series, a doomed endeavor. “How to Make a Monster” remains, as of this writing, his final feature film directing credit. I feel sorry for him and everyone else who worked on this embarrassingly bad movie. [4/10]

The Twilight Zone (1985): Shatterday

It was destined to live in the shadow of the original but the 1985 version of “The Twilight Zone” tried its best to be memorable. Mainly by inviting a lot of notable talent to work on it. The very first episode was directed by Wes Craven, featured a script by Harlan Ellison (making his second appearance this Halloween), and starring Bruce Willis. Advertising exec Peter Jay Davis sits at a bar, waiting for a date. He picks up the phone to call her and, accidentally, calls his own number. Shockingly, another version of himself answers the call. The second Peter assures the first one that he is improving on his life. The first Peter grows sicker as the second one makes more ethical choices. Eventually, they meet in a hotel room.

The Ellison short story that inspired “Shatterday” has a perfect premise for “The Twilight Zone.” It's the kind of narrative hook that immediately grabs you but is rift with deeper readings. What would you do is another you answered the phone? “Shatterday” handles this as a personal crisis. One Peter begins to improve the moral decisions in his life. He patches things up with his sickly mother, reaches out to an ex he mistreated, and rejects an ethically dubious job. The other Peter responds by trying to financially cut off the copy's revenue stream. The episode takes the idea of our better nature and baser instincts being opposed to each other very literally.

Bruce Willis is basically the only actor in the episode. He gives a pretty good performance, showing how the first Peter advances through outrage, anger, sorrow, and then acceptance. He's more controlled as the second Peter, in a way that recalls the later, whispery performance Willis would give in “Unbreakable.” I do wish “Shatterday” ratcheted up the existential horror of this scenario a little more. It plays out like a fairly reasonable drama, when something a bit more nightmarish might've been required. Wes Craven's direction is moody, though I doubt I could've guessed he made this if I didn't already know. Still, it's a well acted and very interesting half-hour that Rod Serling likely would've approved of. [7/10]

Monsters Crash the Pajama Party (1965)

Let's talk a little bit about the midnight spook show. A spook show is when a movie theater would show a succession of spooky programming with on-stage antics. They were a combination of midnight screenings, magic tricks, seances, and live make-up demonstrations that almost always climaxed with actors in monster costumes running through the audience. This makes it something of a predecessor to the modern Halloween haunt business. Briefly popular in the fifties and sixties, spook shows would be extinct by the start of the seventies and left little impact on pop culture... Though odd relics remain of their existence. Like “Monsters Crash the Pajama Party,” a thirty minute presentation meant to play alongside typical spook show antics. 

“Monsters Crash the Pajama Party” tells the story of a group of sorority girls who have to spend the night in a spooky old house. Unbeknownst to them, a mad scientist – assisted by a gorilla and a hunchback – operates out of the basement. He abducts the girls and attempts to turn them into gorillas and monsters. Luckily, their boyfriends appear to save the day. Truthfully, this “plot” is nothing but a loose framework to hang a series of gags on. Some of these moments are blatantly comedic. Like a girl's head having a “Cut here” line on it, a werewolf dropping his pants, or an old woman calling to complain about the content of the film. Other moments have the appearances of jokes – such as the opening credits where the gorilla acts out the various roles – without containing any humor.

I suspect “Monsters Crash the Pajama Party” was put together by a largely nonprofessional team. The dialogue is frequently nonsensical and the scientist's exact objective changes multiple times. The plot shifts from scene-to-scene. At one point, the mad scientist is knocked out and locked up and is then awake again in the next scene. Long portions of the movie are devoted to the sorority girls, in nighties, wandering the house while the gorilla reaches out to tap their shoulders. The film constantly feels like it's on the verge of becoming a nudie cutie but everything stays PG rated. 

Of course, “Monsters Crash the Pajama Party” isn't really a movie anyway. It's an interactive presentation made for a rowdy, teenage audience. The movie begins with the mad scientist talking directly to the audience. Certain moments in the film were meant to cue reactions. The gorilla holds up signs with onomatopoeia on them, presumably triggering various gags in the theater.  When the fratboys put on Halloween masks, I suspect audience members were intended to do the same. Most prominently, at the end, the scientist commands his minions to run into the theater and grab some new girls. That's when costumed performers rushed into the crowds. As a movie, “Monsters Crash the Pajama Party” is fairly tedious. As a historical artifact from a bygone era, it's fascinating. [6/10]

Halloween 2021: October 7th

The Changeling (1980)

I can never tell if haunted house movies are for me or not. I don't personally believe in ghost but they can be compelling as fictional ideas, for what they represent. I love a good, spooky gothic locations... Yet haunting movies often have the logic problem of why doesn't the protagonist simply leave the ghost-infested home? I also find the stock plot, of uncovering what unfinished business is keeping the spectre here in this home, tedious more often than not. The epitome of this divide within me is how I feel about “The Changeling.” It's a movie that should work for me, for a number of reason, but has always left me a little cold. Let's see how if feelings shift, if at all, on this most recent re-watch. 

Composer John Russell looses his wife and daughter in a horrible accident. Self-isolating in his grief, he purchases a Victorian mansion from the Seattle historical society. No matter how much John wants to be alone, it soon becomes clear that he is not. Doors slam by themselves. Faucets turn on mysterious. He soon begins to suspect the home is haunted. Digging into the building's past, and aided by ghostly visions, he soon uncovers a connection between the home and a local prominent senator. The spirit of the young boy will not let John rest until he resolves the mystery of its death.

“The Changeling” certainly has all the ingredients necessary for a top-shelf haunted house movie. The mansion is a hell of a location, full of dark corridors, mysterious towers, and a central staircase that makes an impression. Peter Medak's direction exploits these sets for all they're worth. His camera often peers down the shadowy hallways and around door frames, suggesting a ghostly presence even when none is around. The musical score by Rick Wilkins, largely composed of a melancholy music box melody and escalating piano keys, further elevates the film's spooky atmosphere. By the finale, when an aggressive wheelchair appears, “The Changeling” has created a suitably tense and creepy feeling in the viewer.

Something else that elevates “The Changeling” is George C. Scott, one of my all-time favorite performers. As a heart-broken man, Scott is certainly compelling. Early scenes, where he wakes up crying or is clearly left numb by his grief, go a long way. Scott's gravelly talents are more restrained here, though he does get to growl and yell in a few scenes. “The Changeling” is a movie about how the past refuses to stay buried. Presumably, John Russell's own grief ties into this, his own unresolved pain concerning his dead wife and daughter. Yet if you're hoping for the protagonist's personal journey to tie in with the haunting plot, you might be disappointed. Russell's own loss is hardly mentioned after the first hour. No matter how strong Scott's performance is, and he's a professional like always, the role does feel a bit incomplete.

And that represents another issue I have with “The Changeling.” For a haunting movie, it's very plot-heavy. John Russell uncovers a conspiracy involving a murdered child, an inheritance, a secret adoption, and big government power. There is some interesting ideas here, about the dead returning to haunt the living because of a political cover-up. How those victimized by the rich and powerful can see justice after death. Yet the connection between the haunting and the senator – played by a stern and stately Melvyn Douglas – is explained too quickly. The movie's entire second half is dependent on an info dump. No matter how effective “The Changeling” as it heads towards its finale – and there's some great scenes here, including a strong climax – it feels out-of-balance because of the awkward plot mechanics. 

This, I suppose, is why I've never connected with “The Changeling” as much as I've wanted to. The movie actually worked for me quite a lot upon this viewing. There's a lot of great haunted house atmosphere here and that goes a long way on a windy October night. Some of those ghostly visions, especially a nightmare concerning the contents of a well, are pretty damn good. The movie remains beloved in most genre nerd circles and I'm doubtful that recently announced remake will result in anything too worthwhile. It's got a great location, is well directed, and knows how to bring the spooky vibes. Yet “The Changeling” is definitely a movie I admire more on a technical level than on an emotional one. [7/10]

Earth vs. the Spider (2001)

Cinemax's Creature Feature series was obviously rooted in the past, drawing the vaguest sort of inspiration from 1950's B-movies. Yet the films were, in an odd way, attempting to be cutting edge too. The second entry, "Earth Vs. the Giant Spider," was the second directorial credit of Scott Ziehl, who previously made the critically acclaimed micro-budget thriller "Broken Vessels." More pointedly, this is a movie riffing on Spider-Man a year before that iconic character's big budget screen debut changed blockbuster cinema forever. I have no doubt Stan Winston and the other Creature Feature producers were aware of the upcoming Sam Raimi adaptation, though the B-movie rip-off coming out seven months beforehand may just be a wacky coincidence. 

Quentin lives in a New York apartment with only his adorable pet beagle to keep him company. He occupies his time crushing on Stephanie, his next door neighbor, and visiting the local comic shop. He admires the comic book superhero the Arachnid Avenger. Yet his real life, which includes working as a security guard at a genetics engineering lab, falls short of his fantastical daydreams. Following a violent break-in at work, during which Quentin's co-worker is shot dead, he's feeling especially hopeless. That's when he impulsively injects himself with the serum the lab is working on, which coincidently involves spiders. At first, Quentin is delighted to develop spider-like powers... But soon begins undergoing a horrible metamorphosis, which brings with it an overwhelming hunger. 

There is, in fact, a pretty interesting idea at the center of “Earth Vs. The Spider.” Quentin looks up to the Arachnid Avenger because his superpowers allow him to enforce justice in the world. In his day-to-day life, Quentin is tormented by cartoonish bullies, who seem like extras from an old film noir. In his lowly gig as a security guard, he's repeatedly belittled. Even after living through the trauma of seeing his partner killed, actual cops beat him up and blame him for the violence. He refers to criminals as “insects” and eagerly talks about his desire to punish crime. His first heroic act is rescuing Stephanie from a sexual assault... Yet he acts as judge, jury, and executioner in this moment, killing the attacker by tossing him through a door. In his second outing as a superhero, he bumbles into a situation without really assessing it. He kills a young Pedro Pascal who is guilty of nothing more than doing some choke-play with his girlfriend at work. (Don't think about it too much.) The film does, in its own way, interrogate the motivation behind the superhero fantasy: That it's based in a fascistic desire for control that would be dangerous, and wholly irresponsible, to apply to real life. 

“Earth Vs. the Spider's” attempts to deconstruct the superhero premise eventually runs into its role as a horror movie. Quentin injecting himself with spider serum causes him to slowly transform into a hideous spider/human hybrid. His fingers fuse together into arachnid-like feelers. He sprouts a pulsating spinneret from his chest that looks like a hairy butthole. By the end, he's growing extra eyes, sprouting additional legs, and hanging people up in giant webs. With Stan Winston's studio providing the effects, the make-up is obviously pretty good. Yet the movie's attempts to play this transformation for horror is often more goofy than scary. Quentin being unable to communicate with Stephanie because he has giant mandibles jutting out of his mouth is unintentionally funny, when I think pathos was the intended effect. (Also pretty silly are the comic book style transitions Ziehl utilizes throughout the film, whose direction is otherwise flat and very workmanlike.) 

In a lot of ways, “Earth Vs. the Spider” is just too underdeveloped to be effective. Stephanie and Quentin, played by Amelia Heinle and Devon Gummersall, have decent enough chemistry that the reveal that she's secretly a comic book nerd too doesn't come off totally as facile wish fulfillment. Yet there's still not enough heart to their story to make the tragic ending – one of many obvious nods to Cronenberg's “The Fly” – feel earned. A subplot involving a police detective, played by Dan Aykroyd for some reason, investigating the crimes feels totally superfluous. When the movie stops to focus on Aykroyd's wife cheating on him with another officer, it feels like the script has truly rambled off-topic. Also, John Cho appears as the proprietor of the comic shop and is forced to speak with an embarrassing pidgin accent. That's another subplot that ends up going absolutely nowhere. 

If “Earth Vs. the Spider” had focused more on the relationship Quentin has with those around him, and how his transformation into a monster effects them, it would've been a better film... But, then again, that would have also made it an even bigger rip-off of “The Fly” than it already is. So I don't blame the screenwriters for foregrounding the superhero stuff, even if the movie doesn't quite have the budget or vision to pull that stuff off either. (A shot of Quentin Spider-Manning up a wall is pretty poorly done.) The ending also features a cameo from the Stan Winston Creatures' action figure of Quentin, which raises some serious question. “Earth Vs. the Spider” has some cool ideas but is badly served by a jumbled-up, thin script. Scott Ziehl, by the way, would go on to direct straight-to-DVD sequels to “Cruel Intentions” and “Road House,” so the film hardly helped his career any. [5/10]

Tales from the Darkside: The Last Car

There are a lot of episodes of “Tales from the Darkside” that are notorious for traumatizing young viewers but “The Last Car” seems to be mentioned more than most. The episode follows Stacy, a young college student who is heading home to Providence for Thanksgiving break. She catches the train, the last train of the night. However, this is a very strange train indeed. Only three, very strange people are on the car with her: An old man who offers everyone sandwiches, an eccentric old woman knitting, and an annoying little boy who loudly plays. The conductor takes his time appearing to take Stacy's ticket. The rules aboard the train randomly change without warning. Occasionally, the train will pass through odd “tunnels,” sending the passengers into unusual spasms. Stacy sees no lights outside and the ride seems to go on for days. Stacy realizes, too late, that something isn't right.

From the opening minute of “The Last Car,” it's incredibly obvious what is happening here. Stacy is never going to make it to Providence. She either died or stumbled upon some sort of inescapable netherworld. What makes “The Last Car” both mildly hilarious and kind of spooky is how very vague its story is. No explanation is provided for how Stacy came to reside in this afterlife or whatever it is. If it's Hell, we don't know what she did to deserve this. Inside the train, a bunch of shit happens for no reason. The little boy's toy gun turns into a real machine gun at one point, shooting up the sandwich guy... Who then sits back up. Only blackness is glimpsed outside the windows and Stacy slowly becomes aware of her fate. The episode is either a nightmare put to film or a televised non-sequitur. Considering the ever-present chintzy production values of “Tales from the Darkside,” it feels more like the former than the latter.

Surreal horror might've been the goal here yet I think a more universal point was being made: That age-old statement of “Hell is other people.” The other passengers on the train are so very irritating. The old woman is both overly familiar and patronizing. The little boy is nonstop obnoxious. The old man seems utterly bored. The conductor, when he wanders on-screen, is a total eccentric. It's about the most depressing and slowly torturous depiction of the afterlife that I can imagine. I can see “The Last Car's” nonsensical spookiness and downbeat philosophy freaking out a little kid back in the eighties. Watching as an adult, it's too goofy to be scary but I can kind of appreciate this one is going for. [7/10]

A Short Vision (1956)

On May 27th, 1956, “The Ed Sullivan Show” held a special showing of a six-minute-long short film called “A Short Vision.” The animated movie provoked controversy and conversation, eventually receiving an encore presentation a few weeks later. This would cement “A Short Vision's” place in pop culture history, no matter how minor. The film, adapted from a poem by co-director Peter Foldes, depicts nothing less than the complete annihilation of the world in nuclear hellfire. It shows animals fleeing as an airplane, referred to only as “it,” flies overhead. The leaders and “wise men” look on as the population sleep in their beds. All are eradicated when “it” produces a mushroom cloud, the entire world reduced to a small burning cinder that is soon snuffed out. 

It's not just the grim content of “A Short Vision” that made it controversial back in 1956. When the atomic explosion that ends the world begins, the film depicts the leaders of the world looking on... And also shows the graphic death of one man, his eyes exploding and his skin burning off until he's nothing but bone. A similar fate is visited upon some of the other film's characters, who also gasp in fear before being reduced to nothing but bones themselves. It's easy to imagine this being too spicy a meatball for television audiences to handle back in the fifties. (Supposedly, Sullivan told the children watching on the first screening not to be alarmed, because it was just a cartoon, but would tell the kids to leave the room on the encore showing.)

Watched now, “A Short Vision” still holds a strange power. The animation is primitive yet still effective. The lion and deer look up at the passing plane stiffly, mechanically, almost more like shadow puppets than animated figures. This fits a film that intentionally involves the past, as the characters all look like something out of a medieval era painting. There's also a beauty of sorts, as the mushroom cloud is depicted as a burst of swirling colors. All the while, the narrator drolly describes his titular vision, which pairs well with the graphic violence and doom-and-gloom events. Cold War anxieties about Mutual Assured Destruction have been replaced by the encroaching inevitability of climate change, meaning mankind has still sealed its own fate. Maybe this is the real reason why, 65 years later, “A Short Vision” still resonates as a suitably unnerving depiction of the complete end of the world. [8/10]