Halloween 2026: September 20th

 

Obsession (2026)

If nothing else, 2026 is the year that definitively proved that a successful career on YouTube can be a pathway to Hollywood, especially if you're making a horror movie. Around 2017, Curry Barker and Cooper Tomlinson started posting comedy skits on the Youtube channel "thats_a_bad_idea." Their comical videos regularly get hundreds of thousands of views while occasional horror shorts do even better, attracting millions of eyeballs. Last year, the channel released a pretty good found footage movie called "Milk & Serial." Despite only being an hour long and a budget supposedly smaller than most people's monthly expenses, the flick attracted extensive press from genre websites. I suspect this might have been a calculated advertising campaign to build hype for Barker's next release, as he already had a movie deal based on the success of those earlier shorts. "Obsession" was in-production when "Milk & Serial" went viral, Blumhouse picking the film up in post and Focus Features agreeing to distribute it after a single festival screening. Am I suggesting Curry Barker is that most dreaded of pop culture imposters, the industry plant? Probably not, merely that his success was not quite as overnight as it appeared. But "Obsession" was undeniably a success, making twenty times its budget opening weekend and attracting ecstatic reactions from critics and viewers. As the third or fourth "scariest movie ever" released in 2026, I felt the need to weigh in. 

Bear has had a crush on Nikki since childhood. Advice from their mutual friends Ian and Sarah have gotten him nowhere. Upon learning that Nikki plans on moving away from Atlanta soon, Bear realizes he has to shoot his shot. While attempting to purchase a replacement for a crystal necklace Nikki recently lost, Bear instead comes upon a trinket called a One Wish Willow. You take the stick-shaped object out of the box, declare your wish, snap it in half, and supposedly it will come true. Bear buys the device, intending to give it to Nikki as a gift. After once again being too cowardly to declare his feelings for her, he instead uses it himself. He wishes that Nikki loved him more than anyone else in the world. Shockingly, the device works as promised... Too well, in fact, as Nikki becomes utterly obsessed with Bear. Her behavior immediately turns disturbing and quickly violent too. The One Wish Willow allows for no take-backs on its wish and Bear must now navigate his crush being distressingly, frantically in love with him. 

I think people were writing stories about how you should be careful what you wish for, because you may get it, approximately ten seconds after the concept of wishes was invented. Many films have played on the irony of this idea, usually through the intervention of a magical plot device or a stiflingly literal genie. "Obsession" operates under the "Big" method, of a seemingly harmless novelty actually having the powers advertised. This is a premise that presents a lot of questions. Bear asks two separate employees at the shop about how the objects work, both seeming to grasp the magical mechanics of the One Wish Willow without stopping to explain how it is possible. Later, Bear calls the number on the box and has a phone call with some creepy dude, who soon summons hellish screams. So, what, the One Wish Willow is some sort of demonic object? That traps people in Hells of their own making, luring them in with the promise of fulfilling their deepest desire, a punishment for avarice and want? Except later, we see someone use the One Wish Willow and immediately receive what they want with seemingly no negative consequences. To find out that Curry Barker got his start in sketch comedy makes sense, as "Obsession" operates with the logic of a "SNL" bit. You're presented with one idea – magical wish makes protagonist's life hell – up until a swerve arrives that subverts that seemingly straight-forward set-up, for an ironic punch line. 

This works fine within the space of a five minute Youtube video. Over the course of a feature film, however, other problems present itself. Cinematographer Taylor Clemens gives "Obsession" a muted, frequently too dark color palette. The camera angles are usually close up on the actors' face, the framing boxy. When combined with production design that focuses on an untidy mundanity, such as in Bear's slightly sketchy apartment, the presumed aesthetic is a grounded, realistic one. "Obsession" wants to operate like a nightmare, everyday reality slowly becoming increasingly "off" with horrific interjections. The visual approach might have helped create that but the film can never make its more outlandish moments feel like they could logically exist in this world. Such as in a scene where Bear turns around to discover that Nikki, in her mania, has completely plastered the front door over with duct tape. That's a sight gag, a joke, and it feels too at-odds with the presented reality of the film. 

This is not the only example of a vexing disconnect between the film's stated premise and its actual execution. "Obsession's" title and general setup suggest a twist on the stalker with a crush thriller. Nikki's intense mood swings, possessiveness, histrionic reactions to the mere idea of abandonment, public tantrums, and trying to blame Bear for her actions are not-so-tasteful invocations of borderline personality disorder. Other moments – such as when she stands in one place all day, waiting for Bear to come home from work, pissing, shitting and apparently puking right there – go back to the idea that she is being compelled to literally not function when he isn't around. Other times, however, Nikki just does crazy shit for no reason. She'll space out for a second and then shriek. A lengthy sequence has her flittering around a dark bedroom like a sleep paralysis demon. She does a public performance of an incestuous poem or delivers a rambling monologue from a shadow doorway. The dumbest reoccurring idea is postmortem uses for a cat. Why would a person obsessively in love with you do that? Inde Navarrette's facial contortions and unhinged theatrics are impressive but it can't cover the lack of interior coherence here. 

There is, I suspect, reasons for these lapses in logic. "Obsession" is not depicting these things because it follows the story's reasoning. Instead, it wants to scare and freak out the audience. This is why there are gross-out reveals concerning unconventional lunch meat and bodily fluids, night terror-like shenanigans, and extremely uncomfortable public declarations. "Obsession" is as self-conscious about its desire to be scary as your average jump scare filled potboiler, only with highly engineered cringe-inducers than sudden and loud noises. (Further indicated by repeated face-bashing trauma, which has quickly become a cliche of "elevated" horror.) This is why Nikki acts more like a person possessed by a demon at times than a yandere fanatically infatuated with someone. This is also why the plot twists itself in silly configurations. Such as someone asking Bear to leave the apartment and talk to them after Nikki has repeatedly reminded him to never leave her side, which has predictable results. In fact, "Obsession" is one of those movies where a lot of the plot would've been resolved if the characters simply said what they were feeling. 

This is, I suppose, part of the point of "Obsession." Quickly, the film reveals itself as a series of punishments and humiliations for its hapless protagonist. Bear, as played by a suitably sweaty Michael Johnston, is an utterly spineless individual. He is too afraid of rejection to tell Nikki how he feels and too timid to stand up to her once she becomes obsessive. Ultimately, he's also too cowardly to take responsibility for his own actions, trying to weasel his way out at the last minute of the climax. He is an archetypal "nice guy," feeling entitled to romantic love but unwilling to risk anything to earn it, and "Obsession" is the machine designed to torment him for this crime. Despite quickly grasping that Nikki is not acting under her own free will, he still accepts her initial affection and has sex with her. Is the parallel we are meant to grasp here that having a crush on someone, wishing they liked you as much as you like them, is tantamount to rape? This has been the reading many have taken with "Obsession," seeing it as a dark comedy that presents the audience with a Guy That Sucks and making him suffer for our amusement. But I don't know, man. The attitude I got was more self-hating than anything else, cinematic flagellation from a recovering dweeb who is now embarrassed that he was ever anything like this. What is there to be gained from watching a sad boy grapple with the consequences of his own sexist disregard for the bodily autonomy of the woman he claims to respect, but merely only desires, for ninety minutes? I guess this is a lesson that many men still need to hear but "Obsession's" ironically smug handling made me more irritated than anything else. 

Thus, I must part ways with the critical consensus. There are clever elements to "Obsession." Several shots depict Nikki's face in darkness or half-light, rendering her literally faceless much the same way Bear's wish took away all her agency. This does tie in nicely with all that head bashing. However, once the blood and puke and overly proud-of-itself profanities and half-assed gross-outs and shapeless creepiness start to pile up, I found the experience increasingly tedious. Kudos to the folks who dug it but "Obsession" was not for me. Barker has his considerably more star-studded follow-up in the can and has already been plucked for a big franchise gig. (Insomuch that the umpteenth attempt to turn "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" into a consistent money generator can be considered "big.") I think the guy is talented but I personally found "Obsession's" writing inconsistent, its attempts at scares annoying, and its intended greater message shallow. [4/10]

Short Night of Glass Dolls (1970)

 

The way the Italian film industry used to crank 'em out back in the day is truly something to behold. If one film became a hit, suddenly every cinematograpfica was packed to the gills with similar motion pictures. The peak period for the giallo was actually fairly short-lived, running from around 1969 to about 1973. That three year period saw over a hundred different stylish murder-mystery thrillers gracing Italian screens. No wonder the style burnt itself out so quickly! Argento, Bava, and Martino would emerge as the most notable names but the sheer number of gialli made meant quite a few filmmakers have earned cult followings for their work in the subgenre. A less well known name is Aldo Lado. He scripted a killer thriller named “The Designated Victim” in 1971 before going on to make “Short Night of the Glass Dolls” and “Who Saw Her Die?” The former title seems especially well regarded. I've always remembered that evocative title – I mean, it wouldn't be a gialli without one – and decided to give this one a watch this year.  

 

In Prague, a park's groundskeeper discovers what is seemingly the dead body of a man. The apparent corpse is quickly identified as Gregory Moore, a journalist. Despite his death-like state, Gregory is very much alive. As he lays on the slab, he thinks back on the events that led him here. It started with the disappearance of his girlfriend, Jessica. She was a defectee from the Soviet Union and vanished after the two attended a fancy party. The authorities attempt to dissuade Gregory from investigating further but he's unconvinced. His contacted by a mysterious old man who claims to know what happened to Jessica. The man is pushed in front of an on-coming train before getting a chance to talk to Gregory. He starts to follow the clues left behind, which lead him to a mysterious organization called Klub 99. Can he recall what led him to the morgue and will he be able to fully awaken before an autopsy is performed on his still-living body?

 

The giallo is well known for its button-pushing content in terms of violence and sex. Less discussed is the political underpinnings of the style. Authority can rarely be trusted in these stories, with elaborate cover-ups or murderous priests appearing from time-to-time. “Short Night of the Glass Dolls” pairs this with a more explicit Soviet-era unease. Despite being as Italian as any other example, “Short Night” is actually a cross-European production. It's set in Prague, was a co-production with West German and Yugoslav companies, and was mostly filmed in Croatia. (Lado was ethnically Croatian, which feels like a significant point.) The story is explicitly political, with Jessica's status as a former Soviet and Gregory being an outsider in this city factoring into the story. While most gialli depict the police as either eccentric or incompetent, “Short Night” has them as fully antagonistic. The cops try to stop Gregory from digging into what's going on here. It's a welcomed bit of A.C.A.B. theming and goes hand-in-hand with the sense within the story that the protagonist shouldn't trust anyone. 

 

There's a good reason for that. I do my best to avoid spoilers in my reviews, especially for films more on the obscure spectrum like this. However, it's tricky to discuss “Short Night of Glass Dolls” without spoiling its last act. Gregory's investigation leads him to blind weirdos, sheds full of doll parts, butterflies, and hippy love-ins with strumming guitars. Most of these are red herrings for the true culprits behind the disappearances: The Illuminati! Yes, “Short Night of Glass Dolls” climaxes with the hero storming into an “Eyes Wide Shut” style ritualistic orgy among the elites. Conspiracy theories about the rich and powerful gathering in mansions to do pervy, witchy shit often go hand-in-hand with racist or xenophobic rhetoric. However, history has repeatedly shown that the rich and powerful gathering to bleed life from the poor and young is an all-too-common occurrence. Aldo's film running with this idea further places its anti-authoritarian politics in context. 

 

It's a damn good finale. Glaring faces emerge from the darkness and Jean Soral's head spins around like he's been taking lessons from Linda Blair. As is also typical of the subgenre, “Short Night” is stylishly shot and scored. While the cinematography is nice and shadowy, and makes great use of the city's architecture, the editing is what really caught my eye here. The film is cut with a precise, poetic rhythm. Maybe this is extra apparent because so much of the story is told in flashback, cutting between the past and Gregory's currently paralyzed state being an important element. This is another giallo with an Ennio Morricone score. While the music isn't as memorable as his “Four Flies on Grey Velvet” or “A Lizard in a Woman's Skin” soundtracks, it's still quite eerie. 

 

In other words, “Short Night of Glass Dolls” has a lot going for it. So why didn't the film hook me more? Jean Sorel's lead performance is okay. He's got the big, dreamy eyes that are well suited to the film. However, the guy seems to lack much in the way of personality. He talks much about how much he loves his missing girlfriend but we simply don't see much evidence of it. In fact, he hooks up with his ex despite ostensibly being grieving throughout the entire story. I found Mario Adorf, as the boisterous friend, to be a much more likable presence. “Short Night of Glass Dolls” also has a slow pace. While stories that wander around a lot without going much of anywhere are not always rare in gialli, this one seems to have an especially aimless story. The hero spends the whole film coming close to uncovering something, only to be pushed away at the last minute. This continues until the conclusion, making the entire film feel a bit like a delayed pay-off to its best idea.

 

It's a bummer that I ultimately couldn't get onto this one's wavelength. That climax is awesome and the scene that follows are equally creepy. Simply put, the path to get there isn't quite compelling enough to make the wait worth it. This one needed some more hyper-stylized cinematography perhaps. Or more surreal touches, like the legless beggar who appears in the first scene. Or maybe having your main character be isolated on the operating table for most of the story robs it of some tension. Whatever the reason, I wasn't feeling this one on this watch. I'll probably have to give it another look to warm up to it. Also, the title is nonsensical even by the standards of baroque. I'm sure the narrative can be said to feature a quickly passing nocturne featuring metaphorical crystal playthings of some sort but, if so, I missed it. [6/10]

 

 

 

Supernatural: Dorabella

The episode of “Supernatural” – the BBC gothic horror anthology from 1977, not any other show with that name – was pretty good, so here's another one. Walter Von Lambert submits his story for the approval of the Club of the Damned. He tells of traveling Europe with his close friend Philip. While stopping in an obscure city, they witness a performance of music and magic by a beautiful young woman named Dorabella. Philip is immediately smitten and Dorabella is happy to reciprocate. Walter notices that his friend's behavior quickly changes. He stays up all night. He acts strange. He suddenly insist that they drag an ornate box with them everything, whose contents smoke in the sunlight. Most pointedly, people start to die where ever Dorabella seems to travel. Upon arriving at the estate of Dorabella's family, for her marriage to Philip, Walter comes to the inevitable conclusion: His buddy's new girlfriend is a vampire. 

I'll have to ask my best bro about this, since I'm the one getting married soon. However, it's often been observed that a man changes when a new woman comes into his life. Walter and Phillip are best buddies but, the minute he turns his focus on Dorabella, their bromance comes to an abrupt end. Dorabella is controlling, glaring at any other woman that approaches the duo. He's obsessed with her too, seeing visions of the women and dragging that coffin around for her. It's an interesting parallel to draw, between someone becoming the thrall to a vampire and losing a friend to a clinging, controlling relationship. Their wedding ceremony involves Phillip slipping on a ring with a spike in it that pierces his fingers, Dorabella sucking the blood from it, a literal depiction of her draining his life force away. The premise allows for another layer to this story. Before the end, Walter asks his buddy to leave his new bride behind and run away with him instead. It can't help but read as a homoerotic pleading. Phillip has put a ho before his bro and Walter isn't happy about it. She doesn't understand you like I do, man. 

I can't help but find this Bitches Ain't Shit subtext funny. It's also befitting of the gothic horror traditions “Supernatural” was clearly following. As in the last episode I covered, the atmosphere is thick in this one. The entire last act takes place in a creepy old mansion, with ominous faces carved into the stone pillars. There's a shot of a cloaked Dorabella standing in the shadows, framed by the moon behind her, fog rolling around her feet. That scratches that classic horror craving of mine. Ania Marson certainly has the sex appeal and undercurrent of danger that would be worthy of a vintage Hammer flick. 

The creepiest addition “Supernatural” makes to the vampire lore is one that I genuinely don't think I've seen anywhere else. The servants in the vampire manor are blind, their eyes turned milky white with cataracts. This feature extends to the vampire themselves. It's a good representation of how joining the legion of the undead robs a person of their humanity. It's also creepy looking, a fact the episode utilizes well in several moments. Most notably the twist ending, which I definitely should've seen coming but was nicely caught off-guard by. This is a great dose of gothic horror, as slow as any other classic British genre show but with a genuine atmosphere of creepy, classy dread to go along with it. [8/10]
 

Friday the 13th: The Series: Scarecrow

I'm going to be honest with you guys. One of the main reasons I wanted to finally watch “Friday the 13th: The Series” this autumn is because I read that it has a pretty good episode about a creepy scarecrow, one of my favorite underutilized monster archetypes. The episode is, in fact, called “Scarecrow.” Ryan has sent out mailers across Canada to help locate more cursed objects, which takes him and Micki into the countryside. They are in search of an old scarecrow and their path leads them to the Cobean farm. The couple is clearly hiding something, if the mentally disabled and violent son they keep locked up in the attic is any indication. The Curious Goods team run into some other faces. Marge, the local innkeeper, seems too friendly for her own good. Ryan finds a kid hiding in a near-by home, taking him under his wing, and this is when the truth starts to come out. It would seem the Cobean farm is the only successful one in the area. This is the result of the scarecrow, which crawls down off his post and decapitates any one whose picture is placed on its chest. 

The scarecrow has always struck me as an especially pagan image. These are effigies of men that are crucified out in the field, to guard over the harvest. It's very easy to imagine them as remnants of the old ways, lingering reminders of traditions so old, we no longer remember why we do them. Fittingly, quite a few killer scarecrow stories have a folk horror edge. This episode certainly does. The murderous straw man is activated by old magik and implemented in human sacrifices, all in return for a bountiful crop. The responsible party – guess if you can figure out who – has some serious witch-like vibes about her. While the episode is low on country winds whispering through the stalks, the final chase is backgrounded by one of those Amish quilts. When you add in a barn full of dangling dead bodies and an extremely cool final shot of the cross posts before the evening sun, it leads to some fine ambiance. 

It also helps that the scarecrow itself has got a creepy design. The sack head looks a bit like the features of a human face stretched and warped in one direction. Scythes are more evocative of the Grim Reaper than tilling the fields in this day and age, making that an appropriate murder weapon. “Scarecrow” is another episode of “Friday the 13th: The Series” that recalls the slasher movies the show is ostensibly spun-off from. We've got a masked, lumbering killer slicing folks up, including a surprisingly gory on-screen decapitation. A moment of a shrieking woman, wielding a butcher knife high, leaping from the shadows feels like another feather from Miss Voorhees' cap that this show plucked. 

This episode also expands on the central duo's backstory a little. We learn Ryan had a little brother that died after being struck by a car. He carries his baseball around as a reminder. Naturally, the orphan he quasi-adopts acts as a surrogate of sorts. It feels like a detail thrown in to graft some extra pathos. Will Ryan's dead brother ever be mentioned again? Not to mention this show already had one of the protagonist look after a random little kid in an earlier episode. Still, these two have grown on me a lot. Watching them slowly pull the hints together is amusing. There's a moment when Micki notices a clue and leaps into action that I especially liked, even if it's a total misdirect. Jack's absence in this episode and the last are explained by him being on vacation but I've grown attached enough to Robey and John LeMay that I still had a good time with “Scarecrow.” [7/10]

Halloween 2025: September 20th

 

The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh (1971)
Lo strano vizio della Signora Wardh

I've been doing this all ass-backwards, as is too often my nature. Completely unintentionally, I realize now that I've been watching Sergio Martino's acclaimed run of seventies giallo in reverse order. In 2022, I started with the sleaziest of the lot, "Torso." The next October, I progressed backwards to the dreamier "All the Colors of the Dark." Finally, during last year's Blog-a-Thon, I covered "Your Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key." That was the one that finally truly won me over to Martino's particular take on the Italian style of murder thrillers. Now, I return to the beginning and reach "The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh," Martino's first stab at this subgenre. Made after he directed two mondo movies and a spaghetti western – not to mention years working as a writer, assistant director, and cinematographer – it would be Martino's proper breakthrough and establish him as a voice onto his own in the Italian film industry. 

Once upon a time, Julie and Jean were lovers. A cruel man, he allowed her to explore her sadomasochistic fantasies and erotic fascination with blood. Eventually, the abuse became too much and Jean married Neil Wardh, a diplomat. The couple arrive in Vienna at the same time a razor blade-wielding murderer is targeting the city's women. Julie begins to receive flowers with threatening notes, signed by Jean. At a party, she meets the handsome George and his cousin, Carol, who recently inherited a great deal of wealth. Neil is an inattentive husband and Julie falls into George's arms. The sinister notes continue, soon escalating to threatening phone calls and black mail. Carol is killed by the same murderer terrorizing the city. The man sets his sights on Julie next. Jean insists he has an alibi. Julie, overcome with frighteningly erotic nightmares and pulled in different directions by the men in her life, feels like a sinister force is closing in on her.

There is a scene about half-way through “The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh” that might be emblematic of what we think of as a giallo. It concerns Julie's friend going in her place to meet the blackmailer in the park. She is watched by a man wearing black gloves, the camera assuming his point-of-view. He soon reveals a straight razor and attacks the woman, slashing her to death. Martino doesn't bring the style, intensity, beauty or poetry to the table of an Argento or Bava. He makes up for it by giving the audience exactly what they want. Another stalk-and-slash sequence in a parking garage is more suspenseful, focusing on Julie's panic as she's pursued by the armed man. It concludes with a brilliant misdirection involving someone coming up the stairs to her apartment. If the film wasn't made during the peak of the genre's popularity, I would almost take it as tongue-in-cheek at times. The ending has two accomplices swerving around on a country road in a way that seems deliberately absurd to me. But the audience paid for razor blade slashings and that's what they get.

This is not the only way in Martino's film is unapologetically lurid. The movie is filled with female nudity, women having their gowns tore off more than once. As the title indicates, the sexual fantasies of Mrs. Wardh are a frequent topic of conversation. Edwige Fenech and her male co-stars kiss and entwine and jiggle their asses. More than once, the film takes us inside her troubled dreams. I don't know how “strange” these vices are exactly – I've seen “Singapore Sling,” this shit ain't nothin' to me – but they certainly are very vice-ful indeed. Such dreamy imagery are paired with a score from Nora Orlandi. It mixes the groovy bass lines and jazzy dissonance with electric organ, mournful flutes, and sigh-like choral singing. When combined with the similarly flashy sets and costumes, as indicative of hip Europe in the swingin' seventies as possible, the tone of a confused but irresistible erotic nightmare slowly encloses around the viewer. 

Perhaps “The Strange Vice” is preoccupied with taking us inside the troubling, lurid fantasies of the titular character simply because it provides the most flesh and blood to the audience. In gialli starring men, the protagonist are usually logical detectives trying to figure out the limited clues before them. When women are the stars, the stories usually concern a descent into madness. This says some clear things about traditional gender roles in Italian culture. At the same time, Martino's film comes off as entirely sympathetic to poor Mrs. Wardh. Her husband can't please her. Jean could but was also a creep and an asshole. George seems like the kind of swarthy lover she needs but he has secrets as well. No wonder her desires are driving her mad. This woman can't get a good fuck and a man who treats her like an actual human being. One imagines this is a plight that many a female has had to navigate. The film doesn't come close to escaping the leering sexism of seventies Euro-sleaze but, simply by centering the audience with a troubled missus, it forces us to consider the pain of a woman beset on all sides by vile, manipulative men. 

I do wish, however, that Mrs. Julie Wardh was a little more fleshed-out. Despite the whole movie revolving around the interior life of the main character, she remains somewhat distant to us. She is tossed back and forth by the different men in her lives, each one controlling her in diverse ways. Edwige Fenech looks as glamorous as can be in and out of a succession of trendy outfits. Ultimately, her history and what actually motivates her is kept obscure from us. This is probably because the film must leap through the hoops of a classically convoluted giallo plot. The last thirty minutes is a mishmash of double crosses, intersecting schemes and ploys playing against one another. Rather than center in on the heroine, the film devotes time to supporting players that exist to be red herrings or another branch of the conspiracy targeting Fenech. All in the name of catching the audience off-guard and leaving us as confused as the protagonist. 

These are flaws that Martino would improve upon in his future gialli. “All the Colors of the Dark,” which this film plays a lot like a prototype for, leans into the paranoid, dream-strewn mindset of its heroine more, determined to let us get to know her better. “Your Vice is a Locked Door and Only I Have the Key” – which takes its title from a line of dialogue here – doubles down on the depravity, madness, and style to considerable improvement. Still, there's no denying that this one is a strong slice of the kinky, twisting, bloody thrills we come to expect from the giallo concept. I guess next year I have to watch “The Case of the Scorpion's Tail,” one of these Martino made between Fenech collaborations that nobody seems to talk about much? That would break the backwards movements I've been making though... [7/10]

African Kung-Fu Nazis (2019)

 

Cinema made on the African continent has been making some global in-roads within the last decade. My Horror Around the World tour last year included a stop-over in Nigeria, which seems to have defined the West African school of film making for most people globally. Near-by Ghana would seem to have a thriving movie industry of their own, however. (Though the Wikipedia article on the subject currently carries a disclaimer that it might contain “hallucinated information” generated by A.I., because we live in the stupidest dystopia.) Outside of the colorful and bizarre home-made posters for imported pictures, Ghanese cinema is almost completely unknown among English-speaking film fans. Simply put, it's not often distributed over here. However, proving that a silly title and an outrageous premise can still garner attention, there is one recent exception to that rule. “African Kung-Fu Nazis” would seem to be the first martial arts movie made in Ghana. It is also, one assumes, the first Nazi-ploitation movie made in Ghana. I don't know if it's the country's first zombie movie but it's probably the most prominent example, at the very least. 

Recorded history would lead you to believe that Adolf Hitler died in a bunker under Berlin in 1945 and that Hideaki Tojo was executed by hanging in 1948 for his war crimes. The truth is, however, that both leaders escaped and fled, via submarine, to Ghana. Having mastered the secrets of Japanese karate, both men have reached peak human strength and conquered aging. Decades later, the Fuhrer and his minions have re-emerged in Ghana with the goal of establishing a Fourth Reich. He uses a magical flag to hypnotize the locals into Aryan zombie warriors, to build an army of super-powered slaves. Meanwhile, young martial artist Addae returns to his home town. He practices Shadow Snake Style kung-fu with the other members of his dojo. His master agrees to compete against Hitler and his Ghan-Arian goons in a contest of skills but end up murdered by the dictator instead. He also brainwashes Addae's girlfriend into becoming his new Eva Braun. Determined to avenge his sensai and save his community, Addae seeks the teachings of three great masters to become the greatest kung-fu fighter in all of Ghana. 

Here in the west, the perception of African film making has mostly been shaped by the likes of “Who Killed Captain Alex?” or “Pretty Liars 1.” Basically, reducing entire nation's cinematic output down to out-of-context clips or wacky trailers marked by awkward dialogue, stilted acting, zero-budget special effects, improbable stunt work, and archetypal plotting. White nerds laughing at foreign productions because of their perceived cheesiness is a long-held practice heavy with racist connotations. However, that doesn't mean local directors in those countries aren't willing to play into international perceptions. Ghanese studios are closely linked to Nigeran ones, my sources tell me. This means “African Kung-Fu Nazis” has the heavily accented English dialogue, amateur acting, low production values, and After-Effects provided muzzle flashes we ignorant Americans associate with Nollywood productions. It is an aggressively silly movie and very self-aware of that fact. The plot depending on unlikely occurrences, like two of the Axis power leaders surviving into the modern day or entire schools of African kung-fu, is only the beginning. A portly fellow being a master of drunken kung-fu, Hermann Göring being resurrected as a large black man named Horse-Man, Tojo developing a taste for African woman alongside glowing fists and a giant dong, or Ghanese people becoming Aryan through the magical application of flour are only a few examples of the tongue-in-cheek shenanigans on display here.  

I have a strong stomach for campy, self-mocking gaggery like this. “African Kung-Fu Nazis” certainly has some amusing moments. Each of the battles to the death concludes with hilariously over-the-top fatal blows, usually accentuated with knowingly clumsy digital effects. Some of the jokes are pretty good, such as Hitler describing his replacement Eva Braun as just like the old one but “tanner.” My favorite bit is the sudden appearance of a masked luchador among the combatants, who sounds a lot like “Macho Man” Randy Savage. Gratuitous product placement for a liquor brand known as Adonko Bitters – a real product, it seems – is a decent running gag. It must also be said that the fight choreography on-display isn't bad either. However, the kind of energy necessary to make fast-paced goofballery like this consistently hilarious can be difficult to come by. By the time Addae is training with the third master – a priestess in the woods who mostly speaks in non-sequiturs – or having a climatic shoot-out with Hitler, the joke has worn a little thin. You can only have a movie yell “Look at how irreverent and campy we can be!' for so long before it gets tedious. 

Obviously, the mixture of classic exploitation movie tropes is part of the joke here. Conspiracies about Hitler's survival and Nazi plots, kung-fu treachery, and zombies are exactly the kind of outrageous plot points the public at large associates with grindhouse cinema of old. To the point that all three – but the Nazis mostly – have been reduced to “le epic bacon meme” status within contexts such as these. I have no idea what significance the memories of Nazi Germany and the tenants of National Socialism has among the citizens of Ghana. One imagines these plot points were picked because of their easily recognized absurdity. Nazis being rendered as cartoon supervillains in comic books, video games, and movies like these is probably part of why fascism has so successfully re-emerged in the 21st century. If we can distance ourselves from these ideas by treating them as ironic bits, it's easy to say that we “aren't like” the villains of the past. However, the plot point that Hitler is literally swaying people to his will via the power of a flag does strike me as a commentary of sorts on the insidious appeal of fascism. All throughout the film, the German tyrant repeatedly emphasizes how this is a specifically Ghanese version of Nazism. Almost as if emphasizing an idealized cultural identity, no matter how vague or detached from the actual stated goals of a movement it might be, is an important part of the fascist playbook. 

Or maybe it's all merely a joke. Neo-Nazis have become obnoxiously difficult to get rid of but the iconography of Nazi Germany or Imperial Japan should always be held up to mockery, right? I'm almost certainly reading way too much into an intentionally ridiculous movie. I certainly had some fun with “African Kung-Fu Nazis.” Everyone involved is clearly enjoying themselves. There's something very much to admire in directors and actors not letting a lack of resources keep them from making movies. However, this is an example of a joke that probably shouldn't support a feature length runtime. It also needed more of those pancake batter zombies. I guess their presence, the exaggerated violence, and multiple fantastical plot points is more than enough to qualify this for autumn viewing. A sequel was made this year but I think I'll want to see a Ghana-made film not pitched so clearly at snark-poisoned internet commentators in other countries next. [6/10]

 

 

 

Supernatural: Night of the Marionettes

Long before the Winchester brothers started their fight against evil, a different “Supernatural” aired on BBC1. The eight episodes were designed to replicate the tone of the gothic horrors of the twenties and thirties. This is evident in “Night of the Marionettes.” “Supernatural” had a framing device, where applicants to the Club of the Damned would tell a frightening story, the quality judged by whether they are allowed to live. “Night of the Marionettes” follows Howard Lawrence, a literary scholar in the 1890s, obsessed with Byron and Shelley. Alongside his wife Elspeth and daughter Mary, he is retracing the steps the poets took on their way to Villa Diodati. They stop at a mysterious inn in the Swiss alps. The remote building is staffed by strange figures. Howard discovers books related to Shelley in his room, coming to believe that the group must have stopped here on the same journey sixty years before. The inn attracts an audience with the macabre, life-sized marionette shows they put on. The puppet show – about a stitched-together corpse brought to life before it attacks and kills a maiden – disturbs Lawrence and his wife but fascinates their daughter. Lawrence begins to suspect that this bizarre performance inspired Mary Shelley to write “Frankenstein.” Also, that it's not merely a work of fiction. 

“Supernatural” does a good job of matching the literary tone of the Victorian horror stories it is emulating. There are quite a lot of period costumes, proper accents, and high-minded discussion here. This program definitely had a slightly bigger budget than the anthologies series that aired on ITV. “Night of the Marionettes” layers in references to “Frankenstein,” obviously, but “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” as well. The stage-play recalls the expressionistic visuals of that film, with this monster looking quite a bit like Cesare. The play is also rather sexually explicit, the revenant pulling the sleeping maiden from her bed and humping her before thrashing her to death. That Lawrence's daughter, also named Mary, begins to mirror Mary Shelley's writing style in her journal suggests a parallel history here. When the monster inevitably invades her bedroom at the end, it brings the simmering sexuality of Shelley's book – and most gothic horror of the period – to the surface. The Frankenstein monster is the Jungian shadow of the Victorian era, all the impolite and lowly tendencies the proper society of the time sought to repress. Naturally, its rampaging libido is unleashed on the virginal young girl.

This is also one of the few riffs on “Frankenstein” that acknowledge something that's always been implied in the text: That the monster is uniquely repulsive to the living because he represents a violation of natural law. The marionette show the innkeepers put on is certainly weird. Human beings moving as if they are stiff puppets on strings does create an uncanny effect. At the same time, it's not like the performance is that horrifying. However, the show seems to shake Lawrence, his wife, and daughter to their core. After Lawrence forces his way into the laboratory, what he sees seems to briefly shatter his sanity. Over the many faithful and loose adaptations of “Frankenstein,” there's been much discussion of man tampering in God's domain. Few actually entertain the idea that the monster's mere existence – a dead thing made living again – would have the same effect on a sane man as locking eyes on one of Lovecraft's Elder Gods. Truly, there are some thing we are not meant to know.

“Supernatural” definitely seems to wear its very English pretensions on its sleeves a bit. It's as stage-like and dialogue-driven as many of the other British anthologies I've been watching this month. However, “Night of the Marionettes” does pack in some solid, old time ambiance. The isolated inn is a shadowy location. The unusually pale staff certainly reminds one of Bela Lugosi's Dracula and Lon Chaney's Phantom of the Opera. The largely silent presentation of the marionette play does build an eerie feeling. That carries into the increasingly grim final act. I was surprised at the amount of tension this one built up before the end. It is slow and stuffy but quite interesting from a writing perspective, with some strong performance. Maybe they should've shot it in black-and-white though... [7/10]

 

The Addams Family: Ophelia Finds Romance

 

Someone must have decided that Ophelia Frump was too fun of a character to only use in flashbacks. Morticia's even more eccentric twin sister appears again, sending the family a message that she has been dumped by her latest boyfriend and is distraught. Minutes afterwards, she appears at the Addams' home... With her new beau besides her. That would be Horatio Bartholomew, an enthusiastic man who seems to be fabulously rich. Gomez and Morticia are immediately suspicious, suspecting he is a cad that is only after the family fortune. They go about investigating the man, discovering that the local rich boys' club haven't heard of him. Morticia then attempts a mock-seduction of Horatio, to test his loyalty. This goes quite wrong, Gomez quickly getting into a sword fight with his sister-in-law's new husband-to-be. 

In her second appearance, Ophelia does get a bit more fleshed-out. It would seem being a fool for love, always seeking men who ultimately dump her, is a habit of her's. Her super-strength and fondness for Judo throws is still present. However, she comes across as a much weirder, more bipolar figure. Her mood swings wildly between giddy and depressed. That would explain why Morticia is both protective of her and a little weary around her. You can tell Carolyn Jones enjoyed playing a character that does not have Morticia's calming sensibilities smoothing out her eccentricities. A little bit where Ophelia offers Horatio a daisy to pluck out of her hair, resulting in her leg kicking upwards, is probably my favorite physical gag in this one.

A big problem facing this episode is that the conclusion is evident to the viewer early on. Our protagonists believe Horatio to be a con artist. The rules of comedic pay-out dictate that they turn out to be wrong, the man actually being a genuine millionaire who inexplicably loves oddball Ophelia. That diffuses a bit of the punch from this one. Many of the joys in “The Addams Family” emerges from watching the lovable cast play off each other Putting a new character into the mix and building most of the episode around Gomez' interaction with him isn't as much fun. Robert Nichols – previously seen in “The Thing from the Another World" – is a decent guest star, though his ridiculous mustache tells you most everything you need to know about the character. The scene where Morticia attempts to seduce him does provide us with a chance to see the usually faithful wife being a bit more seductive. I enjoyed that. That same scene features a good bit of physical comedy with Thing. Probably the best joke in this episode is when Gomez excites himself by using some French. Not a stand-out episode but Ophelia is growing on me as a character. [6/10]

Halloween 2025: September 13th

 

Predator: Killer of Killers (2025)

Back when I was in the sixth grade or so, my school had one of those annual book fairs. For whatever reasons, I picked up a paperback collection of the comic book “Predator Vs. Judge Dredd,” despite its gory content probably not being teacher approved. Nestled in the back of that collection was a second story, told entirely without dialogue. It depicted an African tribesman, sometime in the distant past, encountering an extraterrestrial hunter while on a manhood ritual. Dark Horse often told stories like that through their extensive “Predator” and “Aliens” comic book series, realizing these monsters can work in almost any setting. The cinematic installment of this particular franchise never showed any interest in following this lead until Dan Trachtenberg took over with 2022's “Prey,” which did just that. Trachenberg was clearly so fond of this approach that he's doing something similar with “Badlands,” the forthcoming release in the franchise which has a post-apocalyptic theme... And the surprise animated “Predator” movie that was made in secret and dropped on Hulu back in April. “Predator: Killer of Killers” sends the iconic alien into three different eras of mankind, once again showing how versatile this particular creature truly is. 

In 7th century Norway, Viking warrior Ursa and her teenage son Anders seek revenge on the Krivich warlord that murdered her father. The bloody onslaught into enemy territory is interrupted by the arrival of a human hunting alien creature, equipped with a sonic wave manipulating weapon. 700 years later, in feudal Japan, the sons of a samurai damyo are forced to duel to see who will inherit his royal role. Now as adult, the losing brother – acting as a shinobi – sneaks into the family stronghold to resolve the sibling rivalry. Plans are interrupted by an intergalactic interloper. In 1942, teenage John Torres is drafted into World War II. While stationed on a battleship, the fighter jets start being shot down by a mysterious craft that doesn't belong to either side of the earthly conflict. In the final segment, the survivors of these three encounters awaken on an alien world, forced to compete in gladiatorial combat for the amusement of the trophy-obsessed travelers.

The idea of the original “Predator” was that Earth's mightiest warriors, over-the-top icons of machismo like Arnold and The Body, had met their match in the form of a big game hunter from beyond the stars. It established a pattern that most of the four or six sequels have followed. We Earthlings are always outmatched by the Predator's superior technology at first but human ingenuity and our never-say-die attitude eventually wins out. “Killer of Killers” sees this same outline playing out four times in a row. This gives the impression that these Yautja – the species name for these creatures introduced in the comics that I guess is canonized now – actually aren't very good at hunting other lifeforms. However, it is a sturdy formula. The viking familiarity with the frozen Scandinavian landscape, a samurai's sense of brotherhood, or a World War II mechanic forced to think on his feet in mid-air all prove to be interesting ways to get the upper hand on the aliens. And maybe there's simply an evergreen appeal, in we mighty humans actually being allowed to be the underdogs against a greater threat. 

Obviously, setting does ninety percent of the work in “Killer of Killers.” There's an undeniable cool factor in the concept of the Predator fighting Viking warriors, of a ninja and a samurai teaming up against the same alien, or a WWII dog-fight with an UFO. However, each segment does a good job of quickly getting us invested in the characters. Ursa introduces herself with a tale of woe, detailing her quest of vengeance. The sibling rivalry that drives the feud between Kenji and Kiyoshi is the kind of universal theme anyone can relate to. Same goes for John Torres trying to prove himself as a mechanic getting his first shot at piloting a plane. The characters are archetypal. The film does nothing to dissuade cliches of vikings being obsessed with paying blood to blood or the samurai fixation on bushido honor. Once John gets a tough but fair commanding officer, it's not hard to guess what will happen to him. (The officer is voiced by Michael Biehn, who now joins Bill Paxton and Lance Henrisken in a very exclusive club.) 

As simple as the characters and stories in “Killer of Killers” can be, it works in the film's favor. The script takes just enough time with each character and setting to fully establish them, before introducing the mandibled threat on their tails. These themes are universal, the characters straight-to-the-point, to get us hooked as quickly as possible, since the film only has so much time to showcase each segment. This also leaves plenty of room for the other thing “Killer of Killers” is about: Kick-ass action. “Prey” showed Trachtenberg had a talent for creatively engineered mayhem, the camera weaving in and out of stylish showcases of high-tech butchery. Being a cartoon – visual effects expert Josh Wassung is credited with co-directing the film and presumably handled a lot of the technical aspects of the animation – allows this one to go further with that approach than “Prey” did. Ursa dismembering enemies with a battle axe and shield is a smoothly executed, highly brutal sequence. The stylized swordplay of the samurai sequence is also extremely well down, the end including a visual trademark of the Jidaigeki genre that is truly satisfying. 

If there is a weak link in “Killer of Killers'” quartet of stories, it is probably the World War II sequence. That sequence sees a Predator – this one has an eye-patch, so you know he's a bad-ass – mostly doing his hunting from a spaceship. The film works hard to incorporate the species' trademark technology into this setting, shooting heated chains that can cut through jets like a cheese slicer, but it's not quite as compelling. Either way, it's incredibly clear that Dan Trachtenberg loves playing in this sandbox. Each hunter is outfitted with their own technological gimmick. There's a sonic wave super punch, a spear that sprouts extra barbs, and a chained whip. Pretty cool stuff and logical expansions on what has appeared in previous entries. The final segment takes us back to the home world, giving us a bit more of a peek at the alien culture that produced such honor-obsessed poachers. You can tell the movie was made by massive “Predator” fans because the leader of the clan has a cape of spinal columns that bares more than a passing resemblance to the old Kenner Toys conception of a “King” Predator. That made me smile, big and proud. 

If all modern franchise film-making can be described as overgrown nerds playing with their action figures well into their old age, the mid-credits teaser “Killer of Killers” throws in will do nothing to dissuade that notion. Which is a fair enough criticism. I'm not sure every corner of a nostalgic nerd property needs to be overturned, in order to mine them for all they're worth. However, at least “Predator: Killer of Killers” expands more than it retreads. The freedom of animation – competently done, if not a mind-blowing application of the cell-shaded CGI style seen in most post-”Into the SpiderVerse” features – allows a lot more leeway in what can be shown here versus in a live action film. I don't think an “Avengers Assemble” of past “Predator” heroes is necessary. However, Trachtenberg and his team clearly have a passion for this world that extends beyond merely homaging what came before. That bodes well for "Badlands" – annoyingly not releasing during the Halloween season – and hopefully for the rest of the franchise's future as well. [7/10]

 

 

 

Perfect Strangers (1984)

To me, Larry Cohen is one of the essential New York City filmmakers. Fred Williamson strutting through Harlem as "Black Caesar," Andy Kaufman becoming a rogue shooter during the St. Patrick's Day parade in "God Told Me To,"  "Q: The Winged Serpent" roosting in the Chrysler Building: The guy was gifted at invoking something essential about America's most prominent metropolis. In 1984, Cohen would return to NYC after an unsuccessful year in Hollywood. He would shoot two low budget thrillers back-to-back, made with no-name cast plucked from the local theater scene. While the self-reflective "Special Effects" has grabbed a little bit of attention over the years, the second of this burst of creativity, "Perfect Strangers," remains largely overlooked. If you search the title on Wikipedia, you have to scroll a bit to find this one. A Google search produces more results about the sitcom and Deep Purple song of the same name. Is this one a hidden gem or a rightfully forgotten piece of Cohen's eccentric career?

Johnny, a young punk in the New York mob, is ordered to knock off a small time drug dealer. He stabs the guy to death in a back alley. Only to realize that a toddler saw the whole thing. Feeling guilty, Johnny tells his boss about the witness. He is next instructed to clean up any loose ends, in whatever manner necessary. Johnny goes about talking to Sally, the two year old's single mother. She is having trouble with her baby-daddy, who never wanted the kid but is now protective of him, and barely scraps by as a clothes reseller. She is charmed by Johnny and soon falls in love with him. He starts to develop feelings for her too and also bonds with Matthew, the kid at the center of all this. As the police continue to investigate the murder and connect Sally to the crime, Johnny is put under more pressure to complete his orders. More killings follow, a child is endangered, and a mother will have to defend her baby.

The entirety of “Perfect Strangers” hinges on a rather implausible idea: That any judge in the land would put a two year old kid up on the witness stand. Matthew is a toddler, non-verbal and unable to dress himself. The likelihood of him remembering witnessing a murder, much less being able to identify the killer, strikes me as unlikely. Moreover, if Johnny had kept his mouth shut and simply not mentioned the kid to the mob, he wouldn't have been commanded to commit infanticide. This speaks to the rather cheesy tone that infects all of “Perfect Strangers.” Cohen and Paul Glickman, his regular cinematographer, made the baffling decision to shoot the entire movie through a waxy, soft-focus lens. This makes the whole film look like a flashback sequence. Dwight Dixon's score – his sole credit – is defined by chintzy sounding synth shrieks. This is paired with some hilariously corny songs from Michael Minard. (Previously of the hilariously corny “Fall Break” from “The Mutilator.”) It's difficult to take whatever angst Johnny might have seriously when he expresses himself by spray painting black outlines of his own body underneath bridges. 

A degree of campiness or intentional melodrama would not be unprecedented, from the director of “The Stuff.” I guess there's a big difference in handing material like this to a professional eccentric like Michael Moriarty versus the less experienced cast here. Brad Rijn, as Johnny, has a strange rhythm to his delivery. He never seems entirely convinced of anything he's saying. Anne Carlisle is a little better as Sally. However, the love story between the two is never anything less than awkward.  The two don't have any sparks so much as a weirdly antagonistic vibe between each other, that the script insists they play as romantic. They go from being strangers to lovers far too quickly. The eventual sex scene can't overcome a sense of discomfort. All the acting in the movie is kind of like that. Stephen Lack, the extremely wooden star of “Scanners,” plays a detective as some sort of camp-gay figure. John Woehrle, as Sally's ex, walks an uneasy balance between stilted and exaggerated. Meanwhile, Carlisle's “Liquid Sky” co-star Otto von Wernherr shows up for one inessential scene, lumbering through a conversation with a distinctly Schwarzeneggerian accent. 

As a romance, “Perfect Strangers” is sunk by the bizarre anti-chemistry between its stars. As a character study of Johnny and his conflicted morality, it never comes together. Mostly because of Rijn's weird performance but also because of the script's refusal to give Johnny any real depth. The scene where he's bathing Matthew and trying to couch the kid on what to say are, I think, supposed to be suspenseful but only come off as uncomfortable. Which is odd because, as a thriller, “Perfect Strangers” is quite competent. Cohen gets right to the point – so to speak – arriving at the bloody stabbing that kicks off the plot the minute the opening credits end. That's a frantically cut scene, a furious stabbing that concludes with blood stylishly splattered on the ground. A moment where Johnny is pushing Matthew on a swing set or the kid is in a mobile merry-go-round come close to catching that same sense of out-of-control danger. As the kid flies overhead – the little actor genuinely seeming in peril – the film taps into the inevitable feeling this is all going to end in tragedy. Which it does. The last act of “Perfect Strangers” transforms into a well executed stalk-and-slash scene, the film finally committing to the slasher undercurrents it was suggesting all along. Right before ending rather abruptly but at least it goes out on a high note. 

The most interesting thing about “Perfect Strangers” has little to do with the genre parameters it plays around in. As was often his style, Cohen shot part of the film right on the streets of New York without any permits at all. When Matthew is abducted briefly by his father, the reactions of the people behind the arguing couple seem genuine. Most notably, a long sequence was shot at an on-going Women Against Pornography march. This brings up another element of the film I've not yet mentioned. Sally's best friend is a die-hard feminist and talks greatly about how women have to defend themselves from men. A key scene has Johnny going ballistic on her ex, beating him in a playground. Any exact message about the relationship between men and women isn't totally coherent. It wouldn't surprise me if Larry Cohen was working through some hang-ups with his own ex-wife through this story. At the end though, the film does seem to come around to the idea that women are pretty justified in being afraid of men, who are too often driven by feelings of violence and entitlement. 

To repeat a statement I think like I've been making a lot this September, “Perfect Strangers” is an extremely flawed film that still has some interesting stuff floating around inside it. When focused on being a grim little thriller, Cohen definitely shows his skills as a consumerist pro at giving the audience what they want. He also couldn't repress his tendency to make his films both a record of their time and place and a statement on some woes of the day. All of which is well and good but not quite enough to make up for the movie being a bit of a fiasco otherwise. A silly script, an uneven cast, a fine layer of cheese, and a very slow middle keeps “Perfect Strangers” from standing tall on the wings of its dreams. Vinegar Syndrome put the film out on Blu-Ray recently, meaning it will be rediscovered by people who will probably like it more, but I kind of agree with history forgetting this one. [5/10]

 

Door Into Darkness: Eyewitness
La porta sul buio: Tentimane oculare 

 

Last year, I watched an episode of Dario Argento's short-lived seventies anthology series. In the time since, “Door Into Darkness” has gotten a spiffy Blu-Ray release from Severin, along side a few other Argento obscurities. Ultimately, Dario's style of murder mysteries proved a little too intense for Italian television. This is why the series would end with “Eyewitness,” only its fourth episode. The hour follows Roberta who, while driving home one night, sees a woman leap out in front of her car. She looks closer and sees that the woman was already bleeding before she was nearly struck, spotting an obscured male figure nearby. She reports the crime to the police but they are unable to locate a body. Roberta is convinced of what she saw though and continues to investigate on her own. The detective and her boyfriend, Guido, both become concerned about her sanity. Especially when she claims to be pushed into traffic, despite everyone around her reporting that she nearly fell. Once Roberta receives a threatening phone call from the killer – who says he'll track her down that night, while Guido is out of town – she knows she isn't crazy. She's in danger. 

“Eyewitness” has a lot in common with “The Tram,” the installment of “Door Into Darkness” I previously covered. Both episodes present a seemingly impossible mystery: A woman stabbed to death inside a crowded cable car with no witnesses in the former and an apparent murder for which no evidence can be found in the latter. Both hours get off to slow starts, as the protagonists go through the routine of everyone believing they are crazy despite never wavering in their certainty. However, where “The Tram” followed the eccentric detective on the case, “Eyewitness” has the much more classically Argento premise of an ordinary person caught up in a crazy mystery. Marilù Tolo plays Roberta as a woman who is nervous enough to be possibly cracking up but also seems sensible enough. She returns to the scene of the supposed crime, goes over the events in her memories again and again, and tries to assemble a logical explanation. Once you factor in the creepy phone call, the similarities to “Profondo rosso” truly come into focus. Like in that classic, the killer ends up revealing themselves after the hero gets too close to the truth.

The gender of the protagonist adds an interesting new layer though. Roberta is surrounded by men who think she's hysterical. Her boyfriend never outright says he's concerned about her sanity. The detective admits he respects her and believes her recollection of events. (While also implying he's romantically interested in her.) At the same time, there's an undeniable layer of condensation to their words of encouragement. Argento's work has been accused of sexism many times over the years and not always without good reason. However, “Eyewitness” does force the viewer to relate to a woman who is doubted, looked down on, and manipulated by the men around her. It feels like something of a rebuttal to the idea that the director had issues with women. (Though how pushed around Roberta is by the plot, not exactly being proactive in the second half and waiting for the killer to come get here, makes it difficult to interpret “Eyewitness” as a feminist text.)

The opening credits of “Eyewitness” claims it was directed by Roberto Pariante, Argento's second unit man on the Animal Trilogy. In fact, Dario was displeased with Pariante's work and fired him after a few days. He finished the episode himself before having Luigi Cozzi go back and re-shoot everything Pariante did complete. You can definitely see Argento's stylistic fingerprints on “Eyewitness.” Early on, there's a point-of-view shot from the perspective of a tea cup. Later, Roberta is watched by the camera as she listens to an answering machine. The episode has a jazz score, largely composed of frantic drumming, that recalls Ennio Morricone's soundtrack for “Four Flies on Grey Velvet.” The climax has the girl cornered in her own home, while a black-gloved killer wielding scissors busts through the door. It's a tense sequence and shows that the director could still create plenty of suspense without the gore of his theatrical releases. The denouncement is a bit disappointing, the responsible party simply explaining the how and why of their crimes. Still, up to that point, “Eyewitness” is a suitably Argento-esque experience that fans will surely get a kick out of. [7/10]

 

 

 

The Addams Family: Gomez the Cat Burglar

 

After having extra helpings of Grandmama's yak stew at dinner, Gomez gets out of bed in the middle of the night with an episode of sleep walking. Being an Addams, Morticia doesn't consider this suspicious. Nor does she connect this moment with the story on the news paper the next day of a cat burglar stealing valuables in the neighborhood. As the title reveals, these two incidents are very connected, Gomez's newly acquired collection of gold, jewels, and furs in the basement making it apparent. The family makes multiple attempts to prevent the patriarch's nightly somnolent activity – such as Fester standing guard outside the bedroom door or Morticia playing a snake charmer's flute to hypnotize her husband – but nothing works. When the cops show up, something more serious most be done.  

"Gomez the Cat Burglar" is a very sight gag centric episode. Luckily, the bits of wacky physical comedy and implementation of goofy props are consistently amusing. Lurch acts literally when instructed to help Gomez "hit the sack." The sequence where Fester attempts to stand guard outside the master bedroom – he immediately falls asleep – keeps escalating in nicely ridiculous ways. I like the reveal that the Addams keep bags of dirt, including a fire axe behind a "Break In Case of Emergency" glass, in the hallways. The bit with Morticia playing a magic flute to hypnotize her husband also gets silly quickly too, Gomez busting out a bugle in response. The last act features John Astin disguising himself as an old man to fool the police but it's spoiled when Morticia says "Voila." Good to see the writers finding new variations on the "Tish, that's French!" running joke. The resolution also managed to catch me off-guard, one goofy joke coming back around to resolve the plot. 

This episode is especially a showcase for Carolyn Jones' comedic timing. Her initial reaction to her husband sleepwalking or her response to a newspaper smashing through a window are both so perfectly deadpan. Though it does strike me as odd that she's confused by her ability to only cut paper dolls with multiple limbs. Or Fester reacting to her modernist painting with bafflement. You'd think this family would be delighted by such weirdness! Presumably not wanting to be left behind by Lily and Herman, this episode reveals that Gomez and Morticia are now sleeping in the same bed together. (He puffs his cigar in his sleep and her nightgown is almost identical to her regular clothes, both subtle little gags.) In fact, Gomez says the word "Sex" later in the episode. Maybe 1965 was less prudish than I previously thought? Also, there's a cool shot when Fester and Morticia enter the dark Playroom, the two of them framed between the spokes of gold wagon wheel. Nice cinematography there. [7/10]