CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: The Delta Force (1986)

History is a series of chain reactions. On June 14th, 1985, TWA Flight 847 would leave Cairo for Athens, on the way back to San Diego. After landing in Greece, Lebanese Hezbollah member Mohammed Ali Hammadi and an accomplice would produce a pistol and two hand grenades. They hijacked the plane, beginning a hostage situation that would last for seventeen days. Hammadi's demands included the release of the seventeen men who had been involved with the 1983 bombing of the U.S. embassy in Kuwait, the release of Shia Muslim prisoners being held in Israel, the withdrawal of Israeli forces in the then on-going Lebanese Civil War, and the condemnation of the U.S. and Israel. During the seventeen days, the hostages were regularly beaten, those with Jewish sounding last names were especially singled out, and a Navy diver named Robert Stethem was killed. Hostages would slowly be released throughout the crisis until June 30th, when the remaining passenger were finally let go. This resolution was reached through combined efforts from the Lebanese and U.S. governments, the release of the Lebanese prisoners being kept in Israel taking place as part of the negotiations. Hamadei and the other perpetrators would escape, Hamadei not being assassinated until January of 2025 and at least three of the suspected partners remaining at large. 

Obviously, this was a distressing incident for all involved. Obviously, I don't support Hamadei and his cohort's actions, if that needs saying. I also don't support Israel's displacement of the Palestinian people and the on-going genocide. Events like the hijacking of TWA Flight 847 do not occur in a vacuum. Now, why do I bring this up while talking about stupid bullshit like Chuck Norris movies? Well, Norris' employer during the mid-eighties was Menahem Golan, half of the duo that ran the Cannon Group. Golan was a big fan of Israel and its government's actions. In addition to his prolific career as a producer, he was a director himself. In 1977, he had directed “Operation Thunderbolt,” a dramatization of the IDF's covert mission to free Israeli hostages in Uganda. Not even a year after the conclusion of the hostage situation aboard Flight 847, Golan decided to make a movie inspired by this event as well. Despite being based on a very recent international incident, “The Delta Force” would still be operating within the explosion-heavy action genre Golan's company had seen so much success with. Which, yes, meant Chuck Norris had to be there too. The result is a peculiar combination of unabashed Zionist propaganda, grim facts-based drama, and cartoonish action theatrics. 

After a botched operation, in which he rescued two fellow Delta Force members from a crashed helicopter, Captain Scott McCoy would leave the elite task force behind. Five years later, an unassuming American airliner is leaving Cairo. Its passengers are seemingly ordinary people: Two married old Jewish couples, a Catholic priest, a husband and wife and daughter, three Navy divers on vacation... But also aboard are Abdul Rafai and Mustafa, members of a revolutionary organization. They take the plane hostage, beating and segregating the passengers, and begin making demands. After several days, the Delta Force – led by Colonel Alexander, McCoy's old boss – are deployed to resolve the problem. Scott tags along on the mission. After returning to Beirut, the terrorists hide the remaining hostages in the city, leading the Delta Force to track them down. 

“The Delta Force” is essentially two very different movies, rather awkwardly stuck together. The first of which is an intense, grim thriller based on a real incident. Golan and James Bruner's screenplay inconsistently mixes fact and fiction, inventing new names for the actual people who lived through the Flight 847 incident. Hanna Schygulla's role is based on Uli Derickson, the real flight purser who was heavily harassed by the hijackers. Bo Svenson's character is inspired by the actual pilot of the plane and the slain Navy diver is maintained as well. The film is clearly trying to capture a realistic sense of panic, in the multiple scenes of the hijackers angrily threatening the passengers. Golan, to his credit, does a good job of capturing the sense of uncertainty and fear, of these ordinary people being suddenly thrust into a terrifying life-or-death situation. The cramped interior of the jet also helps increase the tension.

 

It plays a lot like a seventies disaster movie, like a grittier “Airport” sequel. This is made all the more true because George Kennedy is here, as the Catholic priest who puts his own life on the line. The cast feels a lot like an Irwin Allen movie, in fact. Aside from Kennedy and Svenson, other slightly washed-up luminaries and up-and-comers present include Shelley Winters, Joey Bishop, Martin Balsam, Robert Vaughn, Kim Delaney, and Susan Strasberg. Yet thrilling escapism is not the primary goal of these sequences. Despite the hijackers being Lebanese in real life, Golan's films pointedly changes them to Palestinians. When they separate the Jewish sounding passengers from the rest of the pack, explicit parallels are made to the Holocaust. Balsam's character is depicted as a camp survivor. Lainie Kazan, very much playing the stereotypical Old Jewish Lady, hides the Hebrew wedding ring she wears for fear of being especially persecuted for it. “The Delta Force” is extremely concerned with the idea that all Jews are always threatened by scary brown people. (Or, in the case of Robert Forster as the ringleader, Americans in brown face.) 
 

The morality of older foreigners coming to this land to take up residence without concern for the local population is never addressed. There are passing references as to why the Palestinians are so pissed off. Avi Loziah, as the most unhinged of the hijackers, mentions to a little girl that he had a daughter her age, emphasis on had. He flies into a rage at the Americans' presence, while Kennedy as the Catholic priest chooses this time to try and correct him on where exactly the USA has dropped bombs in the Middle East. To the surprise of nobody, a proud Israeli nationalist like Golan was not interested in examining the how and why behind the Palestinian rage at the government displacing them and blowing them up. In its more action-packed latter half, “The Delta Force” seems to delight in bloodily dispatching its antagonists. Chuck Norris becomes an avatar for Menahem Golan's Zionist rage, elaborately beating the primary villain in a way that borders on the sadistic.

 

A Chuck Norris movie – or any eighties action movie, for that matter – being militaristic propaganda of dubious moral merit is nothing new. If one pushes this aside, if any indeed such a matter can be pushed aside,  this does become a highly entertaining piece of ridiculous action camp. That is the second movie “The Delta Force” is and very little attempt is made to fuse these two tonally distinct halves. About the first hour of the film is a relatively serious, grounded thriller. From the moment Chuck Norris re-enters the story, it becomes an orgy of explosive action. There are multiple rocket launchers employed. Chuck swings from a zip-line while firing a machine gun. He rides a motorcycle through a stained-glass window. This is after multiple sequences in which rockets are launched directly from said bike. There's a pretty bitchin' fist fight against the steering wheel of a moving truck, Chuck clinging to the outside. A car chase shoot-out combination through the streets of Algiers is also gloriously excessive. As was the standard in eighties action, all the stunts are pulled off effortlessly and thrillingly, probably at great personal risk for the stunt team and coordinators. 
 

What can one say except that this is awesome? While Chuck's performance is more along the lines of the steely, unforgiving killer type seen in “Invasion U.S.A.” than the relaxed charisma of his better films, he still gets a few moments of personality here and there. Such as when he sternly shakes it head at an on-coming foe. He also has decent chemistry with Lee Marvin and Steve James, a tough guy legend in his final role and an up-and-comer following up his sidekick role in “American Ninja.” if “The Delta Force” was only a silly action movie, it would probably be a classic. It's certainly got a kick-ass theme song, courtesy of Alan Silvestri at his most heart-pumping and confidence building. Instead, the unsteady balance between facts-based tension and motorcycle jumping silliness leads to a seriously lumpy pacing. The movie probably needed to space its explosion out a little more, rather than mostly pack them into the back half. [6/10]

[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS: 3 outta 5]
[X] Facial Hair
[X] Jumps or Kicks Through a Window or Wall
[] Performs Spin Kick or Spin Punch to Enemy's Face
[X] Shows Off His Hairy Chest
[] Sports Some Cowboy Getup

Director Report Card: Danny Boyle (2007)

 

11. Sunshine

“Millions” did not receive much notice in the United States. For American fans of Danny Boyle, what felt like the real follow-up to “28 Days Later” wouldn't arrive until 2007. What made the film more anticipated by fans of Boyle's zombie thriller is that it was a continuation of many of those same partnerships. “Sunshine” emerged from a script by Alex Garland, marking his third collaboration with the director. Cillian Murphy would return as the leading man. Most exciting, the film would see the team that revitalized the zombie movie trying their hands at another stalwart genre: The science fiction epic. All of which is to say that “Sunshine” was highly anticipated upon release in 2007. For a lot of people, it must've lived up to the hype. In the years since, I've often seen “Sunshine” praised by my fellow film nerds. I, however, was so disappointed with the film when I first saw it, that it changed my whole opinion of its director. Has my opinion changed any in eighteen years?

Fifty years into the future, the entire planet Earth is facing a crisis like never before. Our sun is dying. The world is freezing. A space craft known as the Icarus was sent on a mission to reignite the fading star with a nuclear bomb. They failed, disappearing somewhere around Mercury. Now, a second mission is own its way, the last chance the world has for survival. Icarus II is captained by Kaneda, navigated by Trey, and piloted by Cassie. And the mission is not going well. Physicist Capa and engineer Mace are getting into fights. The oxygen garden manned by biologist Corazon is ignited by an intense ray of sunlight. Upon discovering the abandoned Icarus I, the team detours to gather the first bomb from this other vessel, giving themselves two chances to save Earth. Kaneda is killed, Trey has a mental breakdown, and the ship is not left with enough oxygen to complete the mission. They dock with Icarus I to find its crew incinerated within and an unworking bomb. An explosion follows, leading to the death of two more crew members. As the Icarus II carries its sole payload to the sun, more unexpected dangers will threaten a mission that seems increasingly hopeless. 

Garland would be inspired to write “Sunshine” after researching the inevitable heat death of the universe. The writer and director spent a year fine-tuning the script, going through over thirty drafts. Scientific advisors were hired to ensure that the movie was as plausible as possible. This included a professor of particle physics regularly giving the cast and crew lectures on the topic at hand. This makes “Sunshine” a clear example of what is called “hard sci-fi.” There is no fantastical technology like faster-than-light travel, teleportation, or hyper-sleep. No aliens or exotic theories are present. That didn't stop “Sunshine” from being picked apart by real world scientists. The death of our star is due to a Q-ball – a type of theoretical particle phenomenon that I'm definitely not smart enough to explain – being caught within our sun. That wouldn't be possible, apparently, nor could a single nuclear device reignite a dying star. Nevertheless, the film is still a lot more realistic than most movies about space travel and intergalactic disaster. 

As any astronaut or cosmologist or astrophysicist will tell you, space is big. The characters in “Sunshine” are utterly isolated from their friends and family at home, uncertain if their messages are even reaching them. They have been on this mission for years now, disconnected from what is happening on their frozen world. More than anything else, space is incredibly dangerous. This is the idea that “Sunshine” emphasizes the most. A minor miscalculation can cause a calamity. A stray ray of sunlight is enough to ignite the oxygen store within the shuttle. In other words, space sucks. The entire population of the planet Earth is counting on their success but the team is surrounded by peril at every turn. I don't know if there's anything “harder” in science fiction than emphasizing that space travel is insanely dangerous. 

A space mission being constantly beset by misfortune and calamity probably would've been enough to make a suitably dramatic film. Accordingly, “Sunshine” focuses its narrative entirely on the ship. We see very little of how the sun slowly dying has effected life on Earth. However, the script never lets us forget that saving Earth is the entire purpose of this mission. That creates an apocalypse that is ultimately a bit too conceptual to get your brain around. Obviously, we know resurrecting the sun to save all life on Earth is important... But it would've been nice if “Sunshine” showed us that a little more than it simply told us that. A film about the sun fading out, Earth slowly succumbing to increasing cold and unending winter, strikes me as a lot more interesting than a movie about the mission to reignite the sun. With the script so stubbornly refusing to give us a sense of what is at stakes here, it leaves “Sunshine's” narrative without much tension. 

There's another reason why I struggle with becoming invested in “Sunshine.” I don't care about any of these characters. The film has an ensemble cast of about eight characters, which doesn't seem like a lot. However, the script splits time between a few of them, never truly establishing a protagonist to center the audience. Frustratingly, few attempts are made to develop these characters beyond their role on the ship. Chris Evan's James Mace is an engineer and perpetually angry. Michelle Yeoh's Corazon cares a lot about her plants. Cliff Curtis' Searle has an eccentric fascination with sunlight. Most of the rest of the crew don't get that much development, Rose Byrne's Cassie merely being the pilot and Troy Garity's Harvey never emerging as anything more than the second-in-command. Only their positions on the ship, their names, and the various famous faces playing them distinguishes them.

The characters in “Sunshine” are so indistinct that I often have trouble remembering which one is which. The film often has them wearing bulky space suits that obscure their faces, making it harder to remember who is who. That is a big problem when almost the entire film is about slowly killing off the cast. “Sunshine” repeatedly reminds us how many people are on the Icarus II, how many are needed to complete the mission, and how much oxygen is left to support that number. With every additional accident and death, their chances for success diminishes further. Never mind that their odds of actually getting to the sun and reviving it are low to begin with. Understandly, being on a suicide mission to save the entire fucking solar system has left the entire crew in pretty grumpy moods. This means “Sunshine” starts out in a grim place, tonally, and only grows more fatalistic as it continues. When combined with characters that are difficult to be invested in, it makes the entire film feel like a miserable slog. 

“Sunshine” would see Boyle collaborating with cinematographer Alwin H. Küchler for the first time. Küchler was best known, at the time, for his work on documentations like “One Day in September” and low budget dramas like Lynne Ramsay's “Ratcatcher.” It was his fifth collaboration with editor Chris Gill, who had been cutting Boyle's films since “Strumpet” and was crucial in designing the frantic visual style of “28 Days Later.” Gill's quick cuts and Küchler's gritty style do not make for the smoothest combination. This might just be a me thing but I genuinely have a lot of trouble following “Sunshine” simply on a visual level. This might be because “Sunshine” is often focused on creating a claustrophobic atmosphere, sticking us inside the helmets of these space suits and the tight, dark corners of the ship. Or maybe I'm simply stupid or something. Either way, throughout this viewing, I often lost track of where the characters where, the lay-out of the ship, and the position of the vessel in relation to the vastness of the stars and planets around it. 

I'm referring simply to the basic look of the film. That doesn't include the flashy, stylized flourishes that Boyle, Küchler and Gill also include. Upon entering the Icarus I for the first time, split-second images of the deceased crew flash on-screen. That didn't effect my ability to follow the story. In fact, maybe it was a little cool. However, in its last third, “Sunshine” introduces an annoying visual quirk. Every time a particular character is on a scene, the images become washed-out, blurry, pulsating, and distorted. The idea is obviously to up the tension, making the villain seem as if he's effecting the reality around him. Unfortunately, it also makes the movie increasingly difficult to follow. The climax of “Sunshine” left me baffled to the point that I had to re-read the Wikipedia plot synopsis afterwards to understand what was going on. 

You might have noticed I said “villain” above, in a story where the opposing force would seem to be a natural disaster and not an individual. With a little over thirty minutes left to go before end credits roll, “Sunshine” makes a massive narrative shift. Throughout most of the movie, I was under the impression that Boyle's main inspiration where grand, technical space exploration stories like “2001: A Space Odyssey” or “Silent Running.” Instead, it turns out that “Sunshine” was most obviously inspired by “Alien.” In its final act, the film suddenly introduces a villain. How he gets into the ship is left unexplained. How he continues to pursue the remaining characters seems difficult to determine. How he survives the wounds that turned him from a normal man and into a monster seems implausible. It is a big shift in the narrative that catches the audience off-guard.

And that could've worked. Sure. Bigger swings than that have proven compelling before. Boyle and Garland have made wild shifts in their films before, to varying levels of success. However, what “Sunshine” does after suddenly thrusting a visceral, physical threat into the story is rather baffling. This sci-fi thriller about the end of the world, for some reason, becomes a slasher movie. That's not an exaggeration. The last third is devoted to a hideously deformed villain, who rambles like a lunatic, working his way through the remaining cast and killing them one by one. Like Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees before him, he repeatedly pops back up after seemingly being defeated, relentlessly following the final girl and survivor boy. He survives a number of injuries that would've killed any normal person, before finally perishing in a spectacularly gory fashion. Now, I love a good slasher movie. Truthfully, I love a lot of bad slasher movies too. There aren't too many subgenres I have more of a built-in affection for than a trashy, gory, body count flick. However, this sudden shift has always struck me as such a severe change in direction that it leaves “Sunshine” completely unmoored in its final act. 

“Sunshine” starting out as a very high-minded film concerned with highly technical scientific details, only to end up as a trashy genre exercise at the last minute is a trick that was always going to be hard to pull off. Unfortunately, “Sunshine” continues to operate as if it's a profound meditation on various serious topics even after becoming a murder spree. The villain is motivated by apparent visions from God, believing humanity is doomed and it is wrong to try and save us. This ties into the ideas throughout the film, of human spirit's ability to always find a goal that keeps us moving forward. It ends up feeling more like unearned pretensions than anything else. “Sunshine” motions at broader, philosophical themes without making any real statements about them. 
 

“Sunshine” was an expensive film to make, at least by the standards of the kind of movies Boyle was usually making up to that point. Andrew Macdonald had to cobble together the additional funds for the forty million dollar budget from a variety of sources. Ultimately, the film fell short of that goal at the box office. After making “Sunshine,” Danny Boyle said he was no longer interested in working in the science fiction genre, describing production as a “spiritually exhausting experience.” That would suggest that the entire process was not a satisfying ordeal for the director or producer. In time, however, “Sunshine” would win a a cult following. People seem to love it now. I guess I must remain the odd man out on this one. “Sunshine” has big ideas and an interestingly massive scope but the film repeatedly makes decisions that alienate me as it goes along. [Grade: C-]

OSCARS 2025: Flow (2024)

Could the average rube off the street find Latvia on the map? Probably not and this is the kind of thing I tell myself so I don't feel so bad about being totally unfamiliar with Latvian cinema. Until relatively recently, I can't say the cultural output of the Baltic states was something I thought about much at all. Excuse my ignorance. Not many of the films made over there make it over here. Certainly not many of the animated films, of which there are only a handful. Nevertheless, one such animated motion picture from Latvia has made plenty of waves – pun intended – this award season. When I first saw “Flow,” I loved it but figured it was a long shot in the Animated Feature category at the Oscars, not being made by Disney, Dreamworks, Ghibli, or any of the other studios the Academy usually nods at. After picking up a Golden Globe, however, “Flow” managed to be nominated both in this category and Best International Feature. Now the scrappy little indie is the frontrunner in the former slate. You love to see it.

In a forested landscape, a cat encounters by a pack of dogs, including a friendly yellow lab. The chase is interrupted by a sudden flood. The cat and dog return to a home, surrounded by large statues of felines. The water level starts to rise again shortly afterwards. Our furry protagonist is only saved when a boat, piloted by a capybara, arrives. The Labrador isn't far behind. Soon, this motley crew are joined on their journey by a secretary bird and a ring-tailed lemur. The animals float through the flooded world, observing more strange ruins, encountering other creatures, and eventually arriving at a temple of some sort. There, a revelation occurs.

"Flow" is distinctive from most animated movies about animals having an adventure by two factors. First off, these critters do not speak, wear clothes, or tell jokes. Personality traits do emerge but they still act a lot more like actual beasts than cartoon creatures usually do. (This includes all of their meows, barks, squawks, and grunts coming from actual animals.) Secondly, there are no human beings in "Flow" at all. There are structures, homes and temples, and we see statues – religious idols? – here and there. However, no people appear. When combined with the unpredictable and frequent flooding, which leaves the landscape totally changed each time, "Flow" gives the impression of being set in a post-apocalyptic world at the mercy of climate change. If this was the intention, however, there's certainly no indication of this being our world. While the anxieties of rising oceans are obviously a part of the story's DNA, "Flow" most clearly takes place in a fantastical world that only resembles the Earth we know in fleeting ways. The presence of whale-like creatures that are more like legendary sea monsters than real cetaceans further establishes this as an otherworldly setting. 

I don't think we are meant to think too seriously about this setting and how it came about. That's because "Flow" is clearly a fable, in which the animals and what happens around them represent truths about human nature. This world is unpredictable, massive floods happening spontaneously. Much the way our planet is a chaotic place where life upending change can occur at any moment. How each animal responds to this disaster seems to correspond to different human reactions to the unpredictable nature of life. The cat always searches for higher ground, running from the problem until it can't run anymore. The dog is always happy and blissfully unaware, pushed about by events because he has no attachment to any of it. The lemur collects trinkets and objects, desperately clinging to physical belongings despite everything else being washed away. The capybara, meanwhile, steers the boat, floating above the flood waters, and "going with the flow," as it were. The secretary bird is an exile, attempting to protect the other animals when it can. That includes saving the cat from a flock of other birds, who shatter his wing for this rebellion. The ascension that occurs in the final act gives one feelings of a sort of nirvana being reached. Does that make "Flow" a Buddhist parable, about how one should never expect certainty from an ever-changing world but should always protect most precious life, until enlightenment is finally achieved and we escape the repeating cycle of creation and destruction? 

That's one way to interpret this story and, the more I think about it, increasingly feels like the intended reading. The great thing about fables, though, is that their metaphors are mutable. Making speechless animals the stars of this tale, to me, seems to suggest that we are all at the mercy of our base desires. The first thing that happens in the film is the cat catches and eats a fish. It seeks shelter from the flood. Food and survival are the most primal of all instincts. When the pack of dogs chase after the cat, those animals are simply following their nature as well. After the flood waters recede, there's a touching scene. The Labrador spots his pack once again. While he's tempted by their howls and barks, he ultimately stays behind to help the diverse group of creatures that have become his new clan. In other words: Our beastial drives are part of us and push us forward. Cat eats fish. Dog chases cat. We seek out others who are like us. However, these instinctual forces are not our only choice. We can form meaningful bonds with other living things and protect life from destruction. This, as the secretary bird's path shows us, is how we find a world that is more than physical, that is spiritual as well. Very zen and touchy-feely, I know, but I think this is all true. 

If you aren't looking for philosophical subtext or deeper meaning, "Flow" can still be enjoyed as a simple adventure story. The film was made with open-source software Blender, meaning the animation isn't as smooth or flashy as your average big budget studio animation. I've seen a few reviews compare "Flow's" look to an older video game cut scene, which is valid. However, its visuals are still quite striking in their own way. The animal characters move in surprisingly realistic ways, being as cute and expressive as your own pets. "Flow's" stakes are high, about survival, and its feline protagonist is often in mortal danger. However, the film has such a laid back and contemplative mood, functioning like an exciting and compelling but ultimately serene experience. The soothing musical score certainly gives that impression. Moreover, telling this story without words means it can be appreciated by anyone, ultimately speaking to universal ideas. 

"Flow" was directed by Gints Zilbalodis. He was also a producer on the film, co-wrote the script, edited it, and is co-credited with Rihards Zaļupe for the music. The film took five and a half years to be completed, furthering the idea that this was a passion project for Zilbalodis. That "Flow" was made with free software by such a small team, with one guy doing double duty in so many departments, confirming it as a scrappy indie effort. In other words, it's the kind of filmmaking we should be celebrating: Innovative, entertaining, smart, insightful, and representing the artistic vision of committed individuals. "Flow" works as both an involving mood piece, an adventure that people of any age or demographic can enjoy, and a surprisingly deep fable with lots to say. I'm glad it's been so well received by a global audience, hopefully allowing more opportunities for Latvian animators and filmmakers in the future. [9/10]

Halloween 2024: September 22nd

Threads (1984)

The progenitor to the eighties nuclear annihilation movie is not so much post-apocalyptic melodramas like "On the Beach" or "Five." Instead, a more direct lineage can be traced to the 1966 speculative documentary, "The War Games," which tried to depict the aftermath of a nuclear war with as much realism as possible. (Subsequently getting banned by the BBC because of it.) In 1982, filmmaker Mick Johnson would essentially update "The War Game" with his thirty minute doc, "A Guide to Armageddon," which existed to debunk the British government's overly optimistic instructions on what to do in the case of nuclear war. The film so impressed BBC director Alasdair Milne that he hired Johnson to direct a feature length expansion. Unlike "The War Game," "Threads" actually would air on British television, having a similar effect over there that "The Day After" did in the U.S. the year prior. Today, it is widely regarded as the most disturbing and graphic of the films made on this topic. 

"Threads" is set in Sheffield, the fourth largest city in England. The story centers on Ruth and Jimmy, two young adults who rush to get engaged after she unexpectedly becomes pregnant. Meanwhile, rising tensions in the Middle East between the U.S. and the Soviet Union puts the world on edge. After American forces detonate a nuclear bomb in Soviet-occupied Turkey, local authorities in England prepare for imminent war. There's not much they can do however. Bombs are dropped on the U.K., millions die, and the country is utterly devastated. A pregnant Ruth attempts to survive in the ruins afterwards, an observer to the breakdown of the threads that keep society together.  

"Threads" combines documentary elements with a traditional fictional narrative, in the name of creating as realistic a mood as possible. Paul Vaughan's soft-spoken narration and on-screen, teletype infographics provide context and grim statistics. In the lead-up to armageddon, this fuses with a fly-on-the-wall approach to depicting life in an average city. Ruth and Jimmy's day-to-day dramas are commonplace, while local government officials fill out various forms and clauses, to be activated in case of nuclear war, as if they are everyday duties. Much like "The Day After," the escalating international affairs play out in the background, broadcast from television screens and radios. "Threads" is much more eager to depict the effect these events have on the homestead. Labor protests, panic buying, and political upheaval are occurring in Sheffield before the shit hits the fan. Local police turn folks fleeing the city away from the major roadways, that have been reserved for military traffic. The implication seems to be that global events do not occur in a vacuum. The opening shot of a spiderweb sets up the central metaphor of the film, of the threads of society that hold us all together. These earlier scenes are like the vibrations from further up in the spider's net, cascading down to a far-off corner. 

Despite the holistic viewpoint "Threads" often takes, the film still saves time for a more intimate perspective on the end of the world as we know it. We first meet Ruth and Jimmy in their car, talking and flirting. They are trying to keep their lives together in the face of international conflict. This is keenly depicted in a moment where a nursery they carefully wallpapered earlier in the movie has to be stripped down and converted into a shelter. We see the local electives having meetings and making phone calls. Once the bomb drops, everyone's priorities changes. "Threads" doesn't draw away from these locations at this point either. We see scenes of Ruth's grandparents, embarrassed over having wet the bed or vomiting from radiation poisoning. The local government, trapped in their bunker underground, does their best to carry on but can't even get clean air down there. Hospitals are immediately overwhelmed, looting and martial law breaks out instantly, and the sick and dying must be left behind by the few that survive. Eventually, "Threads" does loose track of its individual characters as the focus shifts more to the breakdown of society in general, representing probably the biggest weakness in the film. Then again, it's not like there was much choice, when most of your principal characters brutally die half-way through the story. 

And that brutality remains shocking. That "Threads" was a television production still seems surprising, even in 2024. Its scenes of nuclear annihilation are uncompromisingly bleak. In the minutes before the blast, a grown woman urinates herself. The flash of light is followed by a startling montage of fires breaking out, homes exploding, and people being blown away. Compared to the single blackened corpse we saw in "The Day After," "Threads" devotes whole sequences to the dead bodies amid the wreckage in the aftermath. The most haunting scenes involve a shell-shocked woman still clinging to the charred corpse of her infant and a cat suffocating in the heat. (Don't worry, the feline actor wasn't actually hurt.) "Threads'" commitment to sheer graphicness makes it easily the most horrific of the similarly themed films released around this time. There's not a moment in the second half that isn't caked with dirt, fallout, blood, puke, burns, or bandages.

The quasi-documentary approach has the narrative travelling far further into the future too. Food and clean water become the only currency. We see the detonation effects on agriculture and the lingering aftermath of a nuclear winter. Civilization is rocked back to medieval times, resulting in ghostly images of people standing in grey fields and thumping on the ground with rudimentary tools. Language degrades, the next generation speaking in a clipped, semi-verbal form of English. Of course, mutation and sickness remains present. If all of these films sought to educate people on the true cost of such a conflict, "Threads" goes the furthest in showing how future generations would grow up in a post-apocalyptic world. The result is discouraging, to say the least. 

Despite its distinctly English perspective, "Threads" was shown on American television too, largely at the insistence of Ted Turner. Ronald Reagan supposedly saw the film too, though no word on if he preferred it to "The Day After." I guess it shows the overall mood of the time that no less than four films – including an animated one – on this same topic were made within a few years of each other. "Threads" providing a wider point-of-view makes it a less personal experience than those other films. Yet the powerful, disturbing depiction of nuclear annihilation is impossible to ignore. The Cold War, or at least this Cold War, is over and the threat of bombs dropping from the sky has, at the very least, changed. However, "Threads" remains a troubling and important piece of film making, a dire warning of what could be. [7/10]

Children of the Corn: Runaway (2018)

Can you believe that they were still making "Children of the Corn" movies in 2018? After the series was run into the ground in the late nineties, it seems improbable that new entries were still arriving eighteen years later. By that point, the remake fad was over and the direct-to-video market was dying a slow death. I guess the Weinsteins – their company still barely clutching to life at the time – figured there was one final, thin droplet of blood to squeeze from this corn. That same year would see Dimension puke up another "Hellraiser" installment, made once again largely to hold onto the rights. Considering "Children of the Corn" was another New World Pictures orphan the company picked up at the same time, perhaps the rights to both titles were intertwined in some way? Whatever the reason, "Children of the Corn: Runaway" would arrive on disc seven years after the last one and roughly twenty years after anyone stopped giving a shit.

"Runaway" essentially operates as a sequel to Stephen King's original story. It follows Ruth, a Child of the Corn who was growing disillusioned with the cult in the final paragraph of King's text. Turns out Ruth set fire to the cornfield and fled Gatlin, giving birth to Malachi's son on the road. For the last thirteen years, Ruth and her son, Aaron, have lived out of a pick-up truck. After getting pulled over in Luther, Oklahoma, Ruth finds work in a local mechanic's shop. The owner provides a home for her and Aaron. Ruth remains haunted by her memories of Gatlin and the massacre. As she begins to see a spectral little girl – and people around her begin to die – it becomes clear that He Who Walks Behind the Rows isn't done with Ruth... Or her son.

I would never go so far as to suggest that Bob Weinstein has a sense of shame. However, perhaps "Children of the Corn: Genesis" and "Hellraiser: Revelations" barely being real movies was a little embarrassing. "Hellraiser: Judgement" was far from great but a little more time and money was invested in it than the previous entry. The same is obviously true of "Runaway." This is probably how the tenth "Children of the Corn" ended up being a low-key character study about a single mom grappling with her childhood PTSD. Director John Gulager – of the "Feast" movies and "Piranha 3DD," also far from great works – expressed a desire to make serious films during his ill-fated season of "Project Greenlight." This is presumably why "Runaway" features naturalistic cinematography that emphasizes the Midwest isolation of its setting and a score heavy on quivering ambiance. Or why the struggles Ruth faced as a homeless mother are so focused on. Small town intolerance is brought up, when a teacher criticizes Ruth for staying with her black boss. Or a crotchety old man accuses two women of being lesbians. A flashback showing Ruth breaking into a drug store to get medicine for her sick son suggests an indie drama more than a direct-to-video horror sequel.

A "Children of the Corn" sequel aspiring to actual art, and not just a cynical product designed to squeeze a few more cents out of a vaguely recognizable title, is surprising. More so because "Runaway" actually kind of pulls it off. This is largely thanks to Marci Miller's lead performance. Previous sequels have nodded at the intriguing idea of what happens when one of the Children of the Corn grows up. Miller's performance actually shows the lingering trauma of murdering your parents as part of a child cult. Miller projects both vulnerability, with her big blue eyes, but also a hardscrabble strength that reflects the character's years spent living on the road. "Runaway" is basically about a parent desperately trying to give her child a better life than she had. As hard as Ruth works not to spread her trauma onto her son, there's an unavoidable feeling that the boy is already doomed. The past always catches up with us and, no matter how hard we try to escape it, our childhoods still mold us into the people – and parents – we become. This is a narrative anyone can relate to but an ambitious one to incorporate into a quickie slasher sequel.

Truthfully, “Runaway” works better as a drama than a horror movie. Gulagher tries to build some decent chills out of the material here. The image of a little blonde girl in a swishy yellow dress, skipping around as she brutally murders rednecks, is almost imbued with some eeriness. Though there clearly wasn't much money for gore, there's a certain brutality to the murder scenes here. A stalking scene through the garage is stretched out for a decent amount of tension. Throughout the film, Ruth has visions of murder and death, usually flashbacks to her childhood, that are often play in reverse. That's an interesting idea. However, scenes of kids feasting on a dead goat, jump scares involving a scarecrow, or a profane rant from an old woman are a lot less effective. “Runaway” builds towards a predictable twist, which results in a very downbeat ending. This is all the more disappointing because... I actually cared about these characters? I think Ruth and Aaron deserved better.

There's no doubt that “Children of the Corn: Runaway” benefits from lowered expectations. Especially after the previous entry in the series was bottom-of-the-barrel slop, the fact that part ten is actually trying something is appreciated. There's an argument to be made that “Runaway” might be the best film in the entire franchise. Daring to be character driven and atmospheric, instead of schlocky and jumbled, was something this series should've tried sooner. I don't want to oversell this one. It's still strangled by a low budget and the expectations of being a “Children of the Corn” movie. You could make the case that this is a bargain bin rip-off of the “elevated horror” style that was starting to take shape at the time. Still, a strong lead performance and a script – somehow written by the same guy who made “Genesis” – with some actual ideas on its mind make “Runaway” significantly better than a movie made only to secure a copyright needed to be. [7/10]

Door Into Darkness: The Tram

La porta sul buio: Il tram

Legend has it that, after attending a screening of "Bird with the Crystal Plumage," Alfred Hitchcock said of Dario Argento "This Italian fellow is starting to make me nervous." There's no denying that Argento was deeply influenced by, and emulated, Hitchcock. In more ways than one. As Hitch hosted his own television series of mystery and suspense stories, Argento sought to do the same. In 1973, he would conceive of "La porta sul buio," "Door Into Darkness." The series would only run for four installments, the director seemingly constrained by the censorship standards of Italian television. Since everything the Maestro touches has a cult following, the short-lived program has been released on disc over here. Argento introduced all four episodes and directed two, of which "The Tram" seems to be the most highly regarded.

The story begins with the discovery of a dead woman's body on a public transportation tram. The police, led by Detective Giordani, conclude she was killed by a single stab to the back of the neck. Though there were several other passengers on the train, nobody reports seeing anything unusual. Giordani gathers up every passenger and recreates the bus ride to determine a suspect. The police quickly conclude that the ticket taker, who had a history of harassing women and kept a matching knife in his locker, must have done it. Giordani isn't so sure, continuing the investigation himself... And quickly falling into the path of the real murderer. 

Detective shows have been, and always will be, a common presence on television. That's certainly not unique to America, as it's an evergreen genre that resonates with seemingly every culture. Most detective programs don't cross over into horror, despite practically every one dealing with murder. "The Tram" certainly plays like a straight detective story at first. Giordani considers the evidence. He rounds up as many witnesses as he can. He deals with an easily discredited nutcase who confesses to the crime. He attempts to eliminate the impossible and find the remaining, improbable truth. Giordani, played by a very suave Enzo Cerusico, also has Columbo-like quirks of snapping his fingers and fidgeting with his cigarettes. Aside from a couple of cool tracking shots, a jazzy score from Giorgio Gaslini, and someone retracing their own memories for a vital clue they must've missed, there isn't too much here that reminded me of the stylish, violent gialli that Argento built his reputation on. 

But then the last third kicks in. Giordani rides the tram at night, noticing that there's a split second when the train goes dark and a curve in the track obscures a view of the seat. The camera focuses in on the black gloves of the unidentified killer, who stalks the detective while wearing leather boots. There's an attempted murder shown from the attacker's perspective. By the time the detective's girlfriend – while wearing a very short red skirt – is stalked through the darkened tram station by an unseen killer wielding a hook... That's when that tingle started to creep up my spine, that unique sense of elation I felt when I was first discovering Argento's masterpieces. "The Tram's" denouncement isn't as exciting, or bloody, as "Profondo Rosso" or "Tenebre." (Though there is, it seems, a molecule of social commentary in the final scene.) Dario doesn't show the on-screen charisma or dark humor that made Hitchcock such a great host. Yet, for a brief few minutes in its last act, "The Tram" becomes a delicious slice of pure giallo goodness that sates the specific perverse appetites of those looking for more from Argento's golden age. That alone makes "The Tram" a hidden gem. [8/10]

The Addams Family: Lurch Learns to Dance

Supposedly, Charles Addams based the character that would become Lurch on Boris Karloff's mute manservant from "The Old Dark House." Accordingly, Lurch was intended to be a silent role on the TV show. However, Ted Cassidy's deadpan grumbling and catchphrase of "You raaaaang?" proved so popular that the writers gave him more to do. Such as in "Lurch Learns to Dance," where the titular shambler is despondent over his yearly invitation to the Butler's Ball. Lurch turns it down every year because he's unable to dance. Hoping to encourage their butler to be more social, Gomez and Morticia hire a dance instructor for Lurch. When this doesn't go so well, the family takes it upon themselves to teach their beloved employee some rhythm. 

"Lurch Learns to Dance" definitely gives Cassidy the most dialogue and action he's had in the show up to this point. Honestly, it's a bit surprising to see the corpse-like butler speaking in full sentences. However, Cassidy's comedic instincts prove strong. The character's attempts at smiling or dragging around a comatose dance instructor produce belly laughs. The scenes of him doing ballet with Wednesday or tangoing with Gomez are much sillier. Cassidy is clearly a good sport, prancing around in a Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit and some weird Zorro get-up. Though he's funnier when mumbling responses. 

The rest of the family gets some good moments too. A subtle bit that made me chuckle is when Wednesday is looking for the over-sized manservant and peaks into an umbrella holder for him. Lisa Loring has several adorable moments when interacting with Cassidy. John Astin gets an amusing gag involving sword swallowing. Gomez and Morticia's passion for each other doesn't stop him from ringing for the butler. This plays over into a gag at the end involving the couple going to spend some time on the bed of nails... Two of them, anyway, because the sixties censors thought sadomasochism was okay but a married couple sharing a bed wasn't. There's also a sequence involving a rack, so all sorts of enjoyable torture in this episode! Anyway, "Lurch Learns to Dance" proves again that this show is funniest when focusing on the family interacting with each other more than outsiders. [7/10]

Halloween 2024: September 18th

Five (1951)

In August of 1945, the United States dropped two nuclear bombs on Japan. The world had been changed forever and people knew it immediately. The term "cold war" was coined the next April. Less than two years later, it was already understood that the United States and the Soviet Union were in a slowly escalating nuclear arms race. By the start of the new decade, the entire world was living under an ever-present fear that the Cold War could get hot at any minute. This brought with it a new type of fiction: The nuclear holocaust story, an exploration of how the world may end in radioactive hellfire and how humanity might survive in the aftermath. As far as anyone can tell, the first movie made about this idea came in 1951, less than six years after this era began. Arch Oboler, acclaimed for his work on influential radio program "Lights Out," would write, direct, and produce "Five" on a miniscule budget that year. Overlooked for years, the film has more recently taken its place in horror and science fiction film history. 

Following the detonation of a new type of nuclear weapon, the world is bathed in a radioactive dust that eliminates the majority of humanity overnight. A pregnant woman named Roseanne wanders the now empty countryside, in search of her husband. She ends up at a home occupied by another survivor, named Michael. They are soon joined by two more, a black man named Charles and a sickly bank teller named Oliver. A German man named Eric washes up on the beach shortly afterwards. These five people, possibly the last humans left on Earth, debate how to survive in the aftermath of such a tragedy, with the racist Eric wanting them to explore the near-by cities while Michael supports farming out in the country. Roseanne, an object of lust for both men, is caught in the middle. 

Unsurprisingly, considering its subject matter, "Five" is a shockingly bleak motion picture. Much like "Night of the Living Dead" and the countless imitators it would spawn, Oboler's film is based around a depressing but all too likely observation: The end of the world isn't going to change people. Petty squabbling, prejudice, greed, and power plays still characterizes these survivors, despite the future of the human race being in their hands. Eric is unable to put his racism aside, telling Michael that he "finds his mere presence distasteful." Michael and Eric, two alpha males of their own, spend most of the movie bickering. Eric's bitter rivalry with the others sees him driving a Jeep through the corn crop the group has worked so hard to cultivate. Eric's constant douchebaggery becomes all the more meaningless in light of "Five's" increasingly downbeat last act. Let's simply say I was surprised that a movie from 1951 would go to such a dark place in its final moments.

Then again, that "Five" only gets more nihilistic as it goes on probably shouldn't be a shock. This is, after all, a movie that begins more-or-less with the destruction of the human race. The incredible grimness of that idea is carried through the movie's visuals. Louis Clyde Stoumen – who is credited as “cinematographic consultant” –  composes some truly eerie black-and-white images. The film's earliest scenes are largely dialogue free, devoted to Roseanne wandering through an empty small town and coming upon a skeleton in an abandoned car. The film returns to that visuals at the end, once we get to the city, and we see entire buses and buildings packed with skeletons. While the idea is ridiculous when you think about it any deeper, the bomb and fallout reducing everyone to bones in seconds, it feels properly nightmarish. This is also evident in the film's main location: A Frank Lloyd Wright designed house that sticks out on the otherwise flat, empty countryside. The many shots of the angular slants of the building's tower against the countryside are suitably dream-like, adding to “Five's” overall uneasy presentation. 

Oboler's history as a writer for radio is occasionally apparent in “Five.” The film is somewhat stage-like in its construction at times. Long stretches of the movie are devoted to these five characters – it's actually less, once people start to die off – talking about their dilemmas or the ways they've adapted to post-apocalyptic life. The performances in the film suit the sometimes stiff construction of the script. William Phipps and James Anderson, as Michael and Eric, do give somewhat melodramatic performances. Both of them fit the slightly oversized nature of a story about the last people alive on Earth. The acting is ultimately effective, both Phipps and Anderson being able to work with the verbose dialogue. Susan Douglas Rubes plays Roseanne with a fitting degree of vulnerability, properly conveying how heartbroken and shell-shocked she must be. Charles Lampkin is also extremely good as Charles, giving a quiet and observational performance. A scene where he delivers lines from a poem by James Weldon Johnson is especially moving.

“Five” is certainly one of those films that I never heard anyone talk about for years. Until, that is, a prominent Blu-Ray release put the movie back into the discussion, suddenly becoming regarded as a classic. However, considering "Five's" prominent place in genre movie history, as seemingly the first post-nuclear apocalypse movie made, it deserves to be rediscovered and discussed in more detail. One expects that it was probably an influence on later stories on the same topic, such as “The World, the Flesh and the Devil” or “Z for Zachariah.” The extremely low budget and sometimes stiff writing are undeniably detracting factors but “Five” proves to be a surprisingly eerie and disturbing film throughout. [7/10]

Children of the Corn 666: Isaac's Return (1999)

Most of the long-running horror series have an iconic villain associated with them. Jason, Freddy, Michael Myers, Leatherface, etcetera are synonymous with the movies that spawned them. This is usually true of the more niche horror franchises too. Angela is in all the “Sleepaway Camps,” Blade is front-and-center in each “Puppet Master.” Even the most disconnected of “Amityville” movies at least reference the iconic house. This was, as of the fifth installment, not true for “Children of the Corn.” He Who Walks Behind the Rows shows up, in some form, in each movie but He's more of an entity than a character. Isaac, the original's proper villain, had been replaced with ersatz juvenile cult leaders in each sequel. This must have been frustrating for John Franklin, the diminutive actor who played the role, as he was still acting throughout the eighties and nineties. At some point, Franklin took matters into his own hands and wrote a "Children of the Corn" sequel that resurrected Isaac. Dimension Films, I guess wanting to continue their DTV cash cow but not having any other ideas, picked up Franklin's premise. "Children of the Corn 666: Isaac's Return" would crop up in video stores in October of 1999, harvested by Halloween hungry horror fans without any better options. 

Hannah Martin heads to Gatlin, Nebraska, the town where a cult of children murdered all the adults nineteen years prior. Hannah was born there and is in search of her birth mother. After crashing her car into a cornfield, she's taken to a hospital. There, she discovers that Isaac is very much still alive and has merely been in a coma all this time. Awoken by Hannah's presence, Isaac gets back to work rebuilding his cult among the youths of the struggling town. She befriends Gabriel, another second generation Children of the Corn, as they attempt to unravel the prophecies and conspiracies circling around Hannah and the town's ominous history. 

"Isaac's Return" does have some interesting ideas. At least in King's original story, the Children were quite intent on having more children before hitting the legal age of adulthood. What happens to that second generation, years after the cult has dissolved? Of course, every cult has it's true believers too. A handful of devotees are still awaiting David Koresh's resurrection. Somebody is maintaining the Heaven's Gate website to this day. It's probable that Isaac would still have followers nearly two decades after the massacre in the small town. However, "Children of the Corn 666" doesn't do anything with these ideas once they are introduced. Instead, the film becomes a tangle of vaguely defined prophecies and competing subplots. Hannah's birth mother, the script wasting Nancy Allen, floats in and out of the plot. A number of locals bump into Hannah, drifting back and forth through the story after that. Isaac and his gang make comments about birthrights and prophecies, none of it especially developed or coherent. 

Before the end, "Isaac's Return" has dissolved into a whole bunch of shit happening without much reason connecting any of it. Stacy Keach shows up as the town doctor and is then executed. Isaac's son – conceived while he was in his coma, I guess – is branded and accepted into the cult. Hannah has jittery visions and ominous interactions with local creeps. While watching, I couldn't help but notice... There's not much corn in this movie. Not too many people I would define as children exactly either. Isaac's cultists all appear to be at least teenagers, if not twenty-somethings. That's when you remember that... Isn't one of the foundational beliefs of this group that anyone over 18 should be put to death? Why is Isaac, now an adult, still being allowed to lead? Why are any of the adults in town still alive? He Who Walks Behind the Rows is referenced a few times and reappears via a plot twist that I truly didn't understand. Other than that – and a single scene of Hannah being stalked through the cornfield by scythe wielding weirdos – "Isaac's Return" dismisses the gimmicks and ideas that have defined this franchise up to this point. 

Truthfully, I found "Children of the Corn 666" to be a very annoying cinematic experience. Aside from an incoherent plot made up of one meaningless scene after another, the sequel is genuinely ugly to look at. Richard Clabaugh, after photographing part four, is back as cinematographer here. While his previous work in the series was decent, "Isaac's Return" is full of sweeping, showy camera movements that do little beside make events hard to follow. The editing varies between frantic and self-consciously arty, further muddying any visual coherence. The sound design and score is heavy on discordant noise and ominous humming. Director Kari Skogland – proving that women are as capable of directing bad movies as men – insists on a color palette largely composed of toxic waste greens and hazy, earthy browns and yellows. It's obvious that "Children of the Corn 666" is another one of those turn-of-the-century horror films that decided taking the look of "Seven" and the "Closer" music video further would make their movie transgressive and edgy, without considering basic visual coherence or tolerability. This is presumably why the movie shoves dead crows into the camera over and over again. 

Lacking any semblance of suspense, ambiance, or the cheap thrills of decent gore, "Children of the Corn 666" is a motion picture with almost no redeemable qualities. Its attempts at scares are trite. Its story is so sketchily defined that I didn't understand the ending until reading the Wikipedia synopsis. Skogland signed on to direct, despite not liking horror, in hopes that she could elevate the material. Instead, all the sequel accomplished was being a self-serious glob of unrealized ideas and hideous visuals. Skogland largely stuck to television after this. Eventually, she became well known for critically acclaimed shows like "The Handmaid's Tale" and "Sons of Liberty." Most recently, she directed one of Marvel's big budget mini-series. Good for her. As for John Franklin, he worked as a teacher for a while and pops up on film and TV occasionally. In-between playing Isaac, Cousin Itt, and briefly Chucky, the dude remains a regular presence on the horror convention circuit. I can respect that. This movie still sucks though. [2/10]

Shadows of Fear: Did You Lock Up?

For reasons I surely lack the cultural context to understand, horror/thriller anthologies were very popular on British television in the early seventies. Maybe it was a reaction to the turbulent political climate of that time. Maybe it was continuing an English tradition of ghost stories. Either way, there were a lot of them on at the time. "Shadows of Fear" was another such example, running for eleven episodes on ITV between 1970 and 1973. The series was distinguished by focusing on earthly fears and human killers, as opposed to supernatural elements. These days, when the rather obscure series is remembered, it's usually for its eerie, animated opening credits. Still, I was intrigued and decided to check out the first episode, "Did You Lock Up?" 

Peter and Moira Astle get out of their house for a romantic evening. While they are gone, two burglars break in. In addition to stealing several pounds and a gold watch, they punch holes in the wall and cut up the couch. The intrusion deeply disturbs Peter. He becomes obsessed with finding the responsible party. After a police detective assures him that crooks always return to the scene of the crime, he installs a trap in the kitchen to capture any intruders. Unsettled by his fixation, Moira insists he take a vacation to the country with her. Using work as an excuse, he stays behind and soon catches the thieves in his cage. A battle of wills ensues. 

Our homes are our abodes, the place where we feel most relaxed. To have someone invade that safe space would surely violate anyone's sense of privacy. "Did You Lock Up?" makes its intruders real little bastards, not only stealing but also wrecking the place. Peter's reaction is honestly understandable. I think we'd all probably install some security measures in such a situation. His growing obsession also exposes his entitlement and warped sense of retribution. Because Peter was wronged, he believes no response is too disproportionate. He wants the burglars to suffer, daydreaming about seeing them in prison or personally injuring them. It says a lot about the guy's perspective that, when he catches the intruders, he asks them why they don't get "normal jobs." Being traumatized by such an event is reasonable but Peter's reaction reveals a distinctly classist fixation, not with justice but punishment. 

All social commentary aside, "Did You Lock Up?" is simply a well executed little thriller. Michael Craig is charming in his early scenes but his slow slide into obsession is well depicted. The episode nicely puts us into his angry, hype-fixated state of mind. Like all British TV from this time I've seen, "Shadows of Fear" is short on music and often stagey in execution. This execution does draw attention to how commonplace its setting is, how isolated Peter becomes from his wife, and the growing tension of his plan formulating. When he finally has the criminals in his cage, the dialogue that follows has you wondering how far this will go. The chilling ending, that continues into the credits, really has you considering when righting a wrong becomes an unhinged quest for vengeance. Good stuff! I might have to give more episodes of "Shadows of Fear" a look in the future. [7/10]

The Addams Family: The New Neighbors Meet the Addams Family

I love how literal old sitcom titles are. Yes, this episode does indeed feature new neighbors meeting the Addams. Young newlyweds Hubert and Amanda Peterson move into the house next door, unaware that Gomez is the one leasing them the home. After hearing Fester's explosions and the uncle attempts to enter the home through a trap door, Amanda immediately wants to move out. Hubert insists on giving the neighbors a try, accepting an invitation to a bridge game with Gomez and Morticia. The Addams try to make their new neighbors as comfortable as possible, though their version of generosity is quickly misinterpreted by the straight-laced Petersons. 

"The New Neighbors" does attempt to add an angle to the once-an-episode gag of average people reacting to the Addams' eccentricities. Hubert is convinced the home is a bargain and wants to do anything he can not to upset his landlords. When Thing leaps out of his box to help Amanda with her bridge hand, or Gomez happily offers them all of the weird animal related statues in their living room, the couple feels compelled to be fine with it. It's not a bad set of gags, especially when they feature lizard teeth tossed into the air or Aristotle the Octopus getting a bath. The best sight gag is definitely Morticia asking to "smoke," which plays out as you'd expect but still got a hearty laugh from me. Carolyn Jones' precise body language sells a number of gags, such as when she finds a quick solution to her roses needing clipping. 

Ultimately though, I like this episode because of the way it contrasts the Addams with this quote-unquote normal couple. Amanda and Hubert are bickering in almost every scene they have together. She seems constantly displeased with everything, while he's desperate to please her. He can't make her happy and he can't be himself around her. Those two get divorced in two or three years max. Gomez and Morticia, meanwhile, are as horny for each other as network censors would allow in 1964. Her ability to perfectly mimic a bullfrog croak drives Gomez into a frenzy. The episode concludes with the couple implying they are about to bang like newlyweds for three straight days. It's coated in innuendo but... Still quite spicy for the time. 

Other notes: Fester and Granmama consider murdering the neighbors after Amanda hits him with a frying pan. That strikes me as a bit of an overreaction. It amuses me that the Addams' real estate guy is completely immune to their macabre habits. The mounted moose head with the askew antlers is named Pierre. This episode also features some good Things moments, such as when Mortica scolds him for his rudeness or Gomez refers to the hand as a "woman-hater." Thing, a misogynist? Say it isn't so. [7/10]