Halloween 2026: September 7th

 

Attack of the Killer Tomatoes (1978)
 

The idea of what American culture was like during the childhood of people who grew up in the fifties and sixties – yanno, boomers – is based on nostalgia. And nostalgia isn't a true reflection of reality but rather an idealized fantasy filtered through collective memory and cultural cliches. There certainly were plenty of cheesy B-movies playing at drive-ins and on late night TV around that time. Aside from truly oddball outliers like "The Killer Shrews" or "From Hell It Came," there actually weren't that many low budget horror flicks in which comically un-serious threats became society threatening monsters. People are scared of regular sized bugs and lizards, so big ones are extra scary. Bug-eyed alien invaders, radioactive dinosaurs, and evolutionary throwbacks all represent real social anxieties about war and science. However, the idea of some obscure B-movies from the recent past in which random bullshit is rendered enormous and homicidal propagated through parody. A sketch comedy segment, background gag in a sitcom or cartoon, or ambitious commercial is really where ideas like these emerged. That's the same environment that John DeBello and Costa Dillon's "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes" sprouted from, beginning life as an amateur short in 1976. That must've generated enough interest for the same team to expand the idea into a slightly less amateur feature film two years later, kicking off an improbable franchise of produce-themed yuks and mock-terror. 

Somewhere in California, a woman is murdered in her kitchen by an autonomous tomato rising from her sink. This is the first of many such attacks, in which the edible berry of the tomato vine inexplicably claims lives around the country. Press secretary Jim Richardson is told to calm public panic while secretly assembling a team of experts to get to the bottom of this gazpacho affair. Intelligence agent Mason Dixon and Wilbur Fenletter lead the covert operation, reporter Lois Fairchild soon becoming involved as well. They work together to find the responsible party and stop the tomato uprising. 

"Attack of the Killer Tomatoes" is undoubtedly better known as a title than an actual motion picture. I know this is the case. As recently as my childhood, I can recall hearing people mistaking the film for a deeply misguided but sincere attempt at a horror movie rather than an obvious parody of them. People probably saw the title in an ad, on a marquee, or at a video store. They had a healthy chuckle at such an absurd premise for a motion picture, moving on without bothering to actually watch it. If the original film can be said to have any greater cultural impact beyond its goofy title, it's probably that goofy theme song. Playing over the opening credits' images of splattering tomatoes, the song is undeniably catchy. The name is sung with operatic gusto alongside silly rhyming verses. The thumping military-style march melody embeds itself in your ear drums. Truly, a classic of Halloween party mix tapes and Dr. Demento compilations. 

There's another reason why the title and associated song are better known than any actual jokes inside "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes." The film has a couple of good gags. An establishing shot of what is blatantly, obviously San Francisco is captioned as "Washington D.C." There's a brief line about submarines that always makes me giggle. A military meeting occurring in a tiny closet is some okay physical comedy. The film comes the closest to actually spoofing the melodrama of classic B-movies when a scientist studying an oversized killer tomato grimly states that this is merely a cherry tomato. (A possible homage to "Gorgo?" Probably not.) Other than that, DeBello's film has a lot of long stretches without any solid laughs. The film lacks the specificity of "Young Frankenstein's" homages or the social critique of "Blazing Saddles." 

Without that, the film relies on two style of jokes. The first of which are the kind of good taste pushing gags that the Zucker brothers would employ a lot more skillfully in their better films. A Japanese man being badly dubbed, the sudden appearance of someone dressed as Hitler, and a blunt dropping of a homophobic slur are less "jokes" so much as they are half-hearted attempts to goad laughter out of viewers with shock value. Fenletter displays the kind of macho disregard for the feelings of women could've been commentary on the casual sexism of fifties sci-fi if it was deployed with any sharpness. Instead, it feels more like we are simply supposed to laugh at one of the heroes calling a woman a "strumpet" for no reason. Edgier jokes like these exist alongside a general sort of zaniness. Each members of Dixon's team have a silly outfit, such as Fenletter's always-deployed parachute. Another is always in scuba gear, another dressed like an Olympic gymnast. The fourth member puts on that Hitler outfit, among other unlikely disguises. There are car chases, foot chases, manic misunderstandings, random pogo sticking, and deliberately crappy pop songs. Each of these bit lack an essential snappiness. Coming across as both too desperate to amuse and too lethargic to be convincingly fun. The impression is of a script that was largely improvised on the spot. Not in a way that pulls from the chemistry and energy of the cast but, instead, feels like the filmmakers just throwing around stupid, unfunny bits in order to get their movie to feature length. 

This is most apparent in the movie's three musical numbers. The second of which is an embarrassingly un-energetic song and dance from the military, a scene that is indicative of the movie's overall comedic fatigue. The first of which is delivered by the head of an ad agency, about how they cook up the slogans and campaigns that drive public opinion. This is part of an extended dunk on Gerald Ford's Whip Inflation Now campaign, a then relevant government boondoggle that has faded completely in the public consciousness. You might notice that this joke has nothing to do with Killer Tomatoes. In fact, the murderous fruit story line and the wacky gang of special operatives don't interact much. Most of them are disposed of after a few scenes. Dixon's investigation eventually bends in a direction unrelated to the perilous produce before circling back around. That's because most of the characters in the film were recycled from another of De Bello's shorts, a spoof of silent films and spy movies called “Do They Accept Traveler's Checks in Babusuland?” 

Now, complaining about the messy plotting in a movie called “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes” obviously makes me the idiot here. But it points to the film's general lack of coherence. To learn that this was an expansion of a short is unsurprising. It has that sweaty discomfort, of an amusing enough idea for a gag tediously stretched out to feature length. I would never besmirch the appeal of some solanum lycopersicum going on a rampage, that absolute banger of a theme song, or the legendary poster art. However, the actual experience of watching the original “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes” is considerably less amusing than simply learning of its existence. [5/10]

 

Bhoot (2003)

The ghost is a concept that exists in all cultures. The exact appearance, behavior, and tangible quality are different around the world but the general premise is the same. Wikipedia provides the usual definition of "the soul of a deceased person, spoken of as appearing in a visible form, and often restless or perturbed." Perhaps we owe the universal quality of this folklore to its hopefulness. The belief in ghosts insists that human existence is more than physical, that there is a spiritual quality to ourselves that persists after death. Frightening though they may be, ghosts are an ultimately optimistic answer to any uncertain questions about mortality. As old as a belief in ghosts themselves is the understanding that a noisy spirit can be appeased or contained. That food or wine left out can satisfy them. That binding the corpse or performing a mystical rite can expel them. Or that solving an unsolved murder can set the wandering soul free. This too is a hopeful idea, showing that the actions of the living can reverberate into the afterlife or that the guilty can't always get away with it. In India, ghosts are called bhoota and belief in their existence is an integral part of Hindu and Buddhist religions. Unsurprisingly, this means the topic has come up in Indian cinema from time to time. If I'm going to try and get a little more culturally specific  with Bollywood horror – as both of my previous two journeys into this territory were remakes of American films – why not start with a movie so emblematic of local folklore that its title literally translates to simply "Ghost?" The success of "Bhoot" in 2003 is credited with reviving interest in the horror genre in India. Sounds like a good pick to me. 

Vishal is looking for a new home for himself and his wife, Swati. He finds a stylish apartment in a high-rise building, selling at an unusually low price. While touring the residence, he learns why the rent is so reasonable. The previous tenant, a woman named Manjeet, murdered her child there before leaping to her death from the balcony. Vishal hides this information from his superstitious wife and they move in. Soon afterwards, Swati begins to see strange things and act oddly. Doctors dismiss her as simply sleepwalking but, after a night watchman is found killed, Vishal comes to believe that his wife is possessed by Manjeet's restless spirit. At the urging of the family maid, he seeks out an exorcist to get to the bottom of this. 

Like I said, my previous two entries in this region during my Horror Around the World series were unofficial remakes of American slasher movies. I wanted something a little more inherently Indian than Bollywood guys riffing on "A Nightmare on Elm Street" or "Scream" this year. "Bhoot" probably fits the bill but the film is still indebted to some international hits. Modern medicine failing to help a woman, her husband seeking out a supernatural expert instead, and the spiritualist confronting the entity as the host is tied to a bed clearly recalls "The Exorcist." "Bhoot" was also released during a boom period in horror, and ghost stories especially, across multiple Asian film markets. Manjeet's spirit is a vengeful spectre with long black hair, a local variant on the archetypal Asian ghost girl. The haunting taking place in a modern metropolitan area, consuming a young woman, and specifically a spooky ghost boy tagging along seem to recall Takashi Shimizu's "Ju-On" series. Director Ram Gopal Varma has never spoken on any similarities and "Bhoot" was only released a year after "Ju-On: The Grudge" became a breakout hit. So it could be a coincidence but I don't know, man. 

The cliches about Hindi films is that they have long run times and contain random musical numbers. Their characters and stories are archetypal, and the tone can randomly shift towards theatrical action, melodramatic romance, or shrill comic relief without warning. This is not always true and "Bhoot" defies the something-for-everybody masala style in several ways. It's less than two hours long. Though songs were composed for the film, only one plays during the end credits. This is a non-singing-and-dancing movie, with no car chases or broad slapstick. The intention is instead to scare and unsettle the viewer. This is literally announced in the first scene. "Bhoot" begins with the disclaimer that, due to his strong personal convictions, the director wishes to stress that the movie in no way endorses a belief in the occult and that its only purpose is to scare you. And "Bhoot" does an okay job at that at times. A sequence where Swati is approached at the beach by the ghostly woman, the spectre looming still and watching, renders a bright and crowded area as frightening. The final sequence also generates a nice little chill up your spine. In general, the camera work often suggests an otherworldly presence watching the characters within a cramped apartment with modern – which also means quite cold and impersonal – architecture. There's also one surprising jolt that genuinely caught me off-guard, even if it's quickly revealed to only be a dream sequence. 

That "Thriller"-esque title card also warns that pregnant women shouldn't watch the film, should it frighten them too much. This might be some William Castle-like hucksterism, and cultural standards are different everywhere, but it is difficult to imagine this film frightening anyone to death or into premature labor. Most of the attempts at scares in "Bhoot" struck me as very corny. The film uses a goofy looking stuffed toy as a reoccurring sign of the ghost child's presence. In general, most of the scenes with the spectral boy simply involve the kid stepping on-screen while sinister music plays. Another scene where Swati experiences a vision while at a movie theater watching, of all things, "Spider-Man" veers into the comical quickly. While "Bhoot" is less exaggerated than the other Bollywood films I've seen, it's no less melodramatic. The presence of numerous characters who exist only to give ominous warnings – the family maid, the night watchmen, the apartment landlord – lays it on a bit heavy. A subplot involves the doctor attempting to help Swati being pulled away because his daughter is dying of some terminal condition. This is a rather weighty topic to introduce only to keep a side character occupied. The involvement of a police officer is another subplot that feels too dramatic. It exists mostly so all the back story around what really happened can be explained in excruciating detail. This all builds towards a conclusion that starts off decently but then pulls back on the throttle (while utilizing some cheesy special effects) right when events are coming to a proper climax. 

This points towards a problem I've experienced with other Indian-made horror movies. The country's equivalent to the MPAA can deny films a commercial screening licenses if any nudity, sex, violence, and political or religious themes are deemed offensive. That last sticking point seems to enforce a very limited moral view point on "Bhoot." The denouncement awkwardly prevents any body but the villain from doing questionable things, seemingly not to offend any moral guardians. The reveal that people are more dangerous than ghosts, while not a terrible writing choice, also seems included more to tiptoe around the story's obviously darker or more violent ideas. There's this unavoidable sense in "Bhoot" that the filmmakers are too conservative, or too timid, to address more complicated issues. From the beginning, the obvious implication is that Vishal and Swati's marriage is doomed. He lies to his wife about the truth concerning their new home, which obviously endangers Swati. The script frames his mistake more as not believing in ghosts than manipulating his wife, the couple reuniting at the end only now minus an angry spirit. In general, these two bicker a lot. Swati is patronized and her concerns are not taken seriously. Ghosts or possession as a metaphor for a marriage crumbling would be standard stuff for the horror genre. Instead, the film does not seem to recognize the existing problems in this relationship before the spooky shit starts happening. 

All of this seems to suggest some cultural differences at play here. "Bhoot" was popular in its home country. Varma would make several more horror movies afterwards, with the genre in general becoming more common in India afterwards. A direct sequel would follow in 2012 and an in-name-only reboot came around in 2020. People who watch a lot more Bollywood movies than me seem to say this one is pretty good. Maybe my perspective as a vulgar American used to bloodier, sexier, and more morally grey entertainment is getting in the way. There's some okay atmosphere in "Bhoot," some interesting ideas, one or two good shocks, but the movie can neither come together to be as scary or intriguing as it clearly longs to be. [6/10]

 

Wednesday: Quid Pro Woe

The sixth episode of “Wednesday” shows a stark divide in what this show does well and the incomprehensibly boring bullshit it wants to be instead. “Quid Pro Woe” is set on Wednesday's birthday, which the series seems to place on the 13th of November. The different people in her life have different reactions: Her parents send her a taxidermy kit with frozen dead squirrels. Enid gets matching snoods for the two of them. A group of her school mates throw a surprise party at a tomb. That moment, in particular, climaxes in the image of Thing wearing a little birthday hat. We also get flashbacks to past childhood birthdays, which include Wednesday's first electric chair and a pinata full of spiders. See, this is the shit “The Addams Family” was made for! While the writing remains as debatable as ever, Jenna Ortega has a way with a deadpan one-liner and her chemistry with Emma Myers remains dependable. The terse discussion/flirting between them during the snood scene is actually momentarily charming. 

Unfortunately, “Quid Pro Woe” is also a very plot-heavy episode and that is, by far the stupidest part of this program. We've got Wednesday doing seances with her identical ancestor, who delivers vague hints about her destiny. Her psychic superpowers get more screen time. She is now referring to herself unironically as a detective, pushing the focus on the so-called mystery to the forefront. I simply cannot imagine any self-respecting Addams snooping around a spooky old mansion for any reason other than it amuses them. (Similarly, Wednesday has a key moment where she expresses a desire to save Nevermore Academy. I'm sorry, I do not believe this character would desire to “save” an institution as oppressive and standardized as a fucking prep school.) Instead, this show has Wednesday sneaking into the Mayor's car and unraveling leads. I don't care about that. I especially do not care about the lore dump we get concerning the Gates family. This thread was not important two episodes ago. Now the series is clearly building up to the Gates being a rival family to the Addams or something. They couldn't have named them the Hillard family at least? Show some respect for real “Addams Family” lore, you cowards. 

The episode concludes with such a misguided sequence, that I don't know how it made it into the final cut. Wednesday is moping about being alone. Our anti-social queen?! Someone must have realized how miscalculated such an admission is, as they have to justify it with a hoary line in her interior monologue. Combine that with the growing need to tie everything together, via the mess of back story and prophecies and romantic tension that make up this program, and it becomes truly dire. No, I do not give a shit about the siren girl and the one prankster guy possibly getting together. Why is that scene in this episode, if not a single living soul could ever be invested in it? Ya know, it sucks that so much of this series is utter grey bland bullshit because... That scene where Wednesday and Enid are hiding in a dumbwaiter while a monster tries to get at 'em? Not half bad. I don't hate the idea of an “Addams Family” variation actually going into full-on horror territory. Unfortunately, “Wednesday” is not that show either but rather a Teen Supernatural Romance Season-Long Mystery Cliffhanger-a-thon for Harry Potter Adults. [5/10]

‘Way Out: William and Mary

Roald Dahl's children's literature is beloved for its imagination and whimsy but also well known for its underlying cynicism and cruel streak. It should not be surprising then that his slightly less well known horror and thriller fiction is especially acerbic. (Or that his erotica is downright antisocial.) Only one episode of the Dahl-hosted, largely forgotten but quite good anthology series "'Way Out" adapted the author's work. That would be the first, "William and Mary," which was supposedly so gruesome by 1961 television standards that viewers complained. The titular characters are William Pearl, professor of philosophy and noted author, and his timid, submissive wife. William is dying from an ailment of the body, which does not stop him from criticizing and belittling Mary for everything she does and does not do. As the end draws near, a doctor proposes an experimental treatment. Why should William's healthy, brilliant mind die with the rest of his sickly body? Dr. Landy has a treatment to remove the brain from the skull, attach it to a machine that will pump fresh blood to the organ, and keep William's consciousness going. His only link to the outside world will be a single eye, floating in a basin of nutrient fluid. His sole method of communication will be an EKG, reading off his brain waves and alerting others to his emotional state. While Pearl finds the idea ghastly at first, he agrees to it because it'll give him a way to torment his wife from beyond the grave. Mary, however, has other plans...

Bitterness and spite are, indeed, powerful emotions. Anyone who has visited a terminal ward for the elderly has likely observed that impending mortality only makes some people bigger, even more entitled dickwads. A desire to annoy, burden, or further observe someone fail can keep a weakening heart beating for a bit longer. "William and Mary" presents the viewer with a perfectly despicable example of such a person right away. Mary wears an unnoticeable amount of lipstick, which is still too much for her griping husband. He tells her to leave him alone before changing his mind and instructing her to sit down. But not in that chair, the one over there! What an insufferable prick. It's no surprise that news of his death causes Mary to play loud music and dance. 

 

Despite the obvious toxicity of this relationship, she is loyal to him, cowed by cultural standards about what a "wife's duties" are and years of endless abuse. Of course, William's eventual fate provides a suitably ironic example of the tables being turned. Watching the expression on Mary's face change as she realizes that she has all the power over her husband now is delightful. There's a degree of sexism in the premise. William notes that he didn't curse Mary with any children but it's evident she wanted a kid, as she immediately sees her disembodied husband as a forever-baby. Women, am I right? Despite that, it is still deliciously satisfying watching such a loathsome curmudgeon finally get a taste of his own medicine from the person he's tormented the most. 

Dahl's macabre fiction rarely featured obviously supernatural scenarios. While the exact details strain credulity, certainly for the time, the situation William is put in does seem to exist on the fringe of plausible science. Fritz Weaver, in his first of many appearances in classic genre television, seems overjoyed as he describes William's mind being trapped in an immobile vat, unable to speak, hear, taste, or touch anything with only a static perspective of the universe. "Has science gone too far?" is a common, usually hysterically presented fear in classic sci-fi. Weaver does a good job of displaying the enthusiasm scientists can have for advancement paired with an apparent obliviousness to the ethical concerns. He describes a mind being unmoored from physical sensation and bodily autonomy as a limitless chance at cerebral exploration when it actually sounds like a great way to drive someone completely insane. He talks about only being able to stare up at the same spot on the ceiling, forever, like it'll be neat. Henry Jones can similarly bite into all the vicious dialogue he's given, while Mildred Dunnock plays Mary as so used to it that she takes it all with a smile. The quality of acting and writing certainly makes up for the subpar surviving prints of "'Way Out" and the limits of early sixties television. Seeing people constantly smoking, mandated by sponsors Liggett and Myers Cigarettes, does create the suggestion that William is dying of lung cancer. Probably an association the corporate sponsor did not intend... [7/10]

Halloween 2026: October 6th

 

Scream 7 (2026)

Perhaps there will come a time when we can discuss "Scream 7" only within the context of being another sequel in a long-running franchise. Unfortunately, the circumstances around its production are impossible to ignore. How Michelle Barrera, the star of the last two entries, was fired after making pro-Palestine statements. How this led to an entire retooling of the next installment. How director Christopher Landon boarded the project and quickly left, amid harassment from fans. Whether it was even moral to go see the film was hotly debated in the months leading up to its release. With no other ideas on how to continue the story, I guess, series creator and now director Kevin Williamson went with the creatively bankrupt decision of focusing on Neve Campbell's Sidney. Simply put, "Scream 7" is a movie that shouldn't exist beyond the general reasons yet another slasher sequel probably shouldn't be made. None of this controversy stopped "Scream 7" from becoming the highest grossing title in the series' history. While all the bullshit had me skipping the film in theaters this past February, my dorky need to watch and review the entirety of a horror series has led me to finally judging "Scream 7" for myself. (And if you must know, I didn't pay to watch it, meaning the producers received no monetary gain from my viewing.) 

After years of being pursued by Halloween costume clad killers, the former Sidney Prescott has settled in Pine Grove, Indiana. She is now married to a cop named Mark and works at a local coffee shop.
They have three kids, with teenage Tatum being the oldest. Despite having moved on, Sidney's history has led to tension between her and her daughter. This gets a lot worst when Sidney receives a video call seemingly from Stu Macher, one of the original Ghostfaces whose final fate has long been uncertain. Two of Tatum's friends are attacked and killed by a masked murderer at her school. After the town goes into lock down, a Ghostface sneaks into Sidney's home and attacks her and her family. Gale Weathers soon arrives in town, with "Scream VI" survivors Mindy and Chad in tow, to report on the breaking story. Sidney works with her old friend/rival to unravel this latest mystery and keep her daughter safe. Meanwhile, rebellious Tatum and her own friend group decide to take matters into their own hands. 

Aside from Ghostface's victims, another casualty of "Scream VI" was my interest in this series. It seems to me that, for quite some time now, "Scream" has been a series in search of a defining thesis. The original film is a deconstruction of the cliches of the eighties slasher movie. The second one does the same for the expectations around a slasher sequel, a phenomenon in its own right. Rather than evolve with the the times and take on whatever the current trend in horror was at any given moment, the later "Scream" movies have been content to simply eat their own tail. "Scream 3" was about nothing but "Scream's" own self-reflective nature. This was also true of "Scream 4," which gave some passing mentions to the found footage genre before inexplicably revealing itself to be about reality TV. While the fifth "Scream" found some relevance in discussing reboots and legacy sequels, while nodding at the "elevated" horror style, it wasn't about examining horror tropes and their relationship with the real world either. It was about "Star Wars" actually. The sixth film represented the series at its most self-indulgent yet. With the behind-the-scenes kerfuffle shifting seven's focus back to Sidney Prescott, there was almost zero chance of "Scream 7" on focusing anything other than the series' own backstory and unearned sense of self-importance. 

Well, I have some good news. "Scream 7" isn't another "Scream" movie about "Scream." Compared to sixth's masturbatory fixation on referencing past films, this one has fewer shout-outs. Unfortunately, "Scream 7" is also not a continuation of the original's premise of examining slasher stereotypes and the debatable effects fiction has on the real world. There's almost no mention of the "rules" or audience expectations, much less any mention of what is or isn't currently hot in the horror genre. All of which begs the question of what "Scream 7" is about. Well, I'm not sure it's about anything. However, that ever-present cultural boogeyman of "trauma" is mentioned. That Sidney's lingering scars from years of being targeted by serial killers might have had some effects on her own kids is brought up. This mostly manifests in limp arguments between our heroine and a typically temperamental teenager. Tatum resents living her life in the shadow of her mom's pain, which includes being named for the friend who had an unfortunate run-in with a garage door opener back in 1996. Generational trauma is certainly an idea worth discussing, especially as we millennials start to reach the same age our parents were when these movies first started getting made. However, I don't think the esteemed director of "Teaching Mrs. Tingle" has any interesting insight on this idea. The mother/daughter conflict in "Scream 7" mostly feels like petulant whining from Tatum.

 

Instead, the only interesting idea inside the sequel revolves a lingering fear every parent has: That they can't protect their kids. Sidney has moved away from Woodsboro, stopped writing books about her life and disconnected from the true crime world. Neither that, nor marrying a cop or building a safe room in her house, does much to protect her daughter from the latest Ghostface. The only time the seventh film comes to life is when Sidney is desperately racing to the coffee shop, to save Tatum. Via an app in her phone, she can access the security cameras at the business. This is how she sees her daughter being stalked by a killer, while trying to talk her through it in a call. This recalls parents helplessly watching as news trickles in about a shooter at their kids' school, unable to do anything but watch or listen through phones and cameras. That's at least a reflection of our current world. "Scream 7" stubbornly resists developing this into coherent commentary. Instead, it merely exists alongside other indicators of modern anxiety, such as AI or the fear that your daughter's boyfriend might be a future mass shooter.  
 

"Scream 7" is uninterested in reinventing the wheel. The sequel seems to address, and hopefully bury, the incredibly dumb fan theory that Stu Macher somehow survived getting a big ass CRT TV dropped on his head thirty years ago. (While still bringing Matthew Lillard back for an easy pop from the fans.) That's in addition to a largely disconnected opening that sees the Macher house now having become a tacky tourist trap. Which could have been a commentary on the commodification of true crime or how all popular series are wrung out for every dollar until they are a pale imitation of themselves. Williamson doesn't do that either. The eventual reveal of who the Ghostfaces are this time, and the motivation for their murder spree, is somehow the least inspired element of the film, a thrown together twist that is delivered like a half-hearted sigh. 

This is the biggest problem with "Scream 7." At no point can it justify its own existence. I did not find myself caring about any of the new characters or cast members. Joel McHale is Sidney's husband and he shares some okay chemistry with Campbell. The script frustratingly leaves little room fie McHale's trademark sarcasm. Isabela May is mildly irritating but mostly uninteresting as Tatum, a mildly irritating but mostly uninteresting character. Most of her friends are of little note. The true crime fanatic next door or the boyfriend of debatable merit are nothing but obvious red herrings. Rising scream queen McKenna Grace shows some spark as Tatum's BFF but let's just say she exits the film early. The lack of energy behind the new cast would be somewhat forgivable if the script also wasn't so out of ideas of what to do with the old cast too. As has been the case since the third movie, Neve Campbell seems deeply bored with this character and her world. There's an attempt to build something between Sidney and Gale Weathers' relationship. Courtney Cox does what she can but you can't play off a brick wall much. When the film trots out a few more familiar faces, it feels like nothing more than a desperate attempt to spark another burst of dopamine from the dying, overstimulated synapses of an aging fan base by jingling familiar keys in front of our eyes. 

That a sense of franchise fatigue floats over all of "Scream 7" is disappointing. When taken as a simple slasher flick, it's at least got the required amount of gruel and grimness. Much like the sixth flick, there are some well engineered set pieces. The sequel is adapt at putting its characters in unfortunate situations. A young lady is suspended in a Peter Pan rig in a school auditorium while Ghostface lurks below. A cool shot sees the slow reveal of the killer's hiding place within Sidney's home. This proceeds a decently suspenseful sequence where the two final girls have to squeeze through a hollow wall while the attacker on the other side tries to pinpoint their location. That's a good demonstration of the laws of suspense, in showing the audience something the characters may or may not have figured out yet. A stalk-and-slash through the cramped kitchen of a bar, a plastic filled garage under repairs, a dangling from a chandelier, or the aforementioned coffee shop stand-off aren't bad either. You can tell Williamson studied Carpenter's "Halloween," as he emulates the trick of the villain's distinctive white mask slowly appearing in the shadows over someone's shoulders. From a gore hound's perspective, there's one or two amusing butcherings. A beer tap is used creatively. 

All of this implies that "Scream 7" might have been able to generate some suspense or more than a fleeting sense of same-old-same-old entertainment, if these sequences were attached to something other than a contractually obligated continuation. Instead, these scenes occur within a film with zero fresh or interesting ideas of how to stretch this story out for a seventh entry, anchored by a cast with little personality or desire to be there. The film made plenty of money, meaning an eighth installment is all but guaranteed. Such box office results suggest that the team behind "Scream" has no reason to give this series the drastic reinvention it obviously needs. I imagine Barrera will probably get invited back in time, that her storyline will continue in some form or fashion. However, if "Scream 7's" quality is anything to go by, I can't imagine a Sidney or Carpenter sisters-led future for "Scream" that has any actual guts or hot blood pumping through it. [5/10]

 

Lokis: A Manuscript of Professor Wittembach (1970)
Lokis. Rekopis profesora Wittembacha

The idea of a short story that goes on a bit too much to be called "short" or a novel that maybe lacks a few hundred words feel like concepts as old as literary classifications are. However, the term "novella" actually was invented in 1829. By a Frenchman, of course, sticklers for detail that they are. Prosper Mérimée coined the term and this guy's Wikipedia article is wild, man. Best known today for the story that inspired the opera "Carmen," Mérimée was a real Renaissance man in his day. An influential figure in the Romanticism movement, he was also an archivist, an archeologist, the Inspector-General of Historical Monuments, a folklorist, a translator, a prisoner, a senator, the official advisor to the Empress of Napoleon III, and a catty bitch who loved to start beef with his fellow authors and bureaucrats. He also wrote horror stories sometimes, among which was "Lokis. A Manuscript of Professor Wittembach." Set in Lithuania and inspired by its local legends, the novella was adapted to film in Poland in 1970, by director Janusz Majewski. Since its inclusion in the big folk horror box set a few years back, the film has gained a lot more attention. 

The titular Professor Wittembach is a pastor and writer. He travels to Lithuania to study local folk customs and translate the Bible into Samogitian, an obscure dialect of the region. He is invited to the estate of Count Szemiot, whose library includes many useful old texts. The Count is eccentric, with a history of madness in his family. The family physician, Dr. Froeber, informs Wittembach that the Count's mother went insane following a bear attack, believing her son to be the offspring of the same animal. The professor officiates the Count's marriage to a beautiful young maiden but bad omens persist over the castle. Might Szemiot actually be a were-bear or is he merely a victim of his own beliefs?

Most of the Polish horror and fantasy films I've seen so far have been on the artsier side of the spectrum, usually with a heavy political bent. This remains true with "Lokis." (The title, by the way, is a misspelling of the Lithuanian word for bear.) The film seems especially concerned with the separation between man and beast, which the pastor clarifies as a distinction between our higher, spiritual calling and our more bestial nature. Usually, when were-beast movies delve into this, it's about savagery and sex. "Lokis" touches on that a little bit. The count's backstory seems to link the bear with unleashed sexual frenzy and the story comes to its climax on his wedding night. However, Majewski and his team approach the subject from a sociopolitical angle. "Lokis" frequently contrasts the nobility, and its interest in academics, with the peasantry, who are a more superstitious lot. One of the first scenes is Wittembach and some elegant ladies watching, from a train, a street performance with a bear. This sets up a distance between the haves and have-nots. While the film ostensibly adopts the more "high-minded," scientific perspective of the upper crust, this is a world fairly unambiguously at the mercy of otherworldly forces. For all its pomp and circumstances, the ruling class is as governed as much by animal desires and the whims of the hidden world as those they preside over.

“Lokis” was made three years before “The Wicker Man” but bares some resemblance to that watershed moment in folk horror history. Both films concern a Christian authority figure, quite secure in his monotheistic viewpoint of the world, being continuously challenged by pagan beliefs and rituals. Matching the more intellectual tone of the film, “Lokis” has Wittembach's understanding of a world governed by a logical God at odds with the otherworldly events he witnesses. A carriage driver warns him of the devils that haunt the forest. Only to have a wheel pulled right off their vehicle, the supernatural forces seemingly proving their own presence. Later, the pastor and the count encounter a self-styled witch in the woods. She comes across as merely an eccentric old woman at first before walking across the moss covered surface of a river as if it's a solid object. “Lokis” slots in nicely with the political and spiritual upheaval of the early seventies, when traditional structures were falling apart and a different, more daemon-haunted world was presenting itself. 

All of that probably sounds pretty interesting. And it kind of is, if you're into European folklore. Unfortunately, Majewski's film is almost unbearably slow. “Lokis” is a motion picture composed almost entirely of men standing around in stately rooms and talking to each other. When the back story of the Count's mother possibly having been assaulted by an ursine is delivered, it plays out as a conversation over some paintings and books. The climatic moment of the film occurs entirely off-screen. All of this is delivered with a stilted, mannered approach. The movie can summon a certain dreamy energy in its best moments, such as the sequence with the witch. The score ramps up a few times, to get the heart pumping. However, nothing much actually seems to happen. “Lokis” is a horror movie in theory but everything sinister is implied, not shown. Don't go in expecting any were-bear chaos occurring on-screen, is what I'm saying. 

That glacial pacing does seem to divide viewers of “Lokis.” I've seen some enthusiastic reviews of it, from people fully sucked into its folkloric dreaminess and not too bothered by the slowness. However, others have been seriously let down by how the movie focuses on ideas and ambiance over anything else at all. It's a nice looking film, with strong cinematography and eye-catching visuals. The settings, of a forest with sheltering branches and the strange looking castle, do make for a suitably surreal location. Ultimately though, I found myself fighting sleep before the relatively short runtime wound up. Maybe you'll find it a bit more compelling but, despite some interesting sights and more interesting ideas, “Lokis” was sabotaged for me by a plodding pace. The film did intrigued me enough to add the original novel to my reading list, though that might also be because Propser Mérimée's life story caught my eye too. [5/10]

 

Wednesday: You Reap What You Woe

Netflix didn't cast recognizable actors like Catherine Zeta-Jones and Luis Guzman as Morticia and Gomez only to use them for a bit in the first episode. And so Wednesday's mom and dad come into focus in "You Reap What You Woe." The episode reveals that, while attending Nevermore as teens themselves, Gomez seemingly ran through a romantic rival for Morticia with a sword and dropped him off a ledge. While investigating the recent suicide of the seemingly happy town mortician, Sheriff Galpin uncovers evidence that Gomez did commit murder all those years ago. (How he escaped this conviction originally doesn't come up.) While Wednesday's parents are visiting the school, her father is arrested for the decades old crime. Now their daughter must pause her investigation of the current strangeness plaguing the school to clear her pop's name. Meanwhile, the other students at the academy have their own mama drama to attend to. 

The early flashback reveals that Gomez and Morticia attended Nevermore in the year 1991. Which would put them both in their forties in this show, assuming it's set in the modern day. While the original series did assign specific ages to the Addams, the thought of these two being Gen-Xers doesn't sit well with me. The idea of Gomez growing up during the Reagan administration feels wrong. However, I will say that Guzman and Zeta-Jones are well cast in the part. Guzman even looks a lot like Charles Addams' original illustration. He's certainly capable of bringing the weird gremlin energy of John Astin or the unapologetic eccentricity of Raul Julia to the part. The episode doesn't give him a chance to do that but at least the "Wednesday" show-runners felt no need to subvert the undying devotion and passion the parents have for each other. Zeta-Jones certainly has the demure sensuality and fey glint of the eyes necessary for Morticia. The show continues to play some tension between Wednesday and her mom, which still feels contrived to me. "You Reap What You Woe," in general, heaps on the sentimentality between parent and child. A scene where Gomez and Wednesday talk it out while he's behind glass comes awfully close to being too precious. She has a heart-to-heart with Pugsley too, once again showing how "Wednesday" seems incapable of balancing both the loyalty that defines the family and the sadomasochistic bond between these siblings. 

Despite the program's insistence on sticking intentionally atypical characters into a standard dramatic arc, the guest stars do enliven "Wednesday" a lot. Once again, I like this show the most when it resembles the old sitcom. Gags like Pugsley munching on potpourri with his dad or fishing with hand grenades, or mother and daughter swapping tips on disinterring a corpse, genuinely made me snicker. Almost like this gang was invented to deliver simple visual jokes and not be involved in an elaborate mystery! Speaking of which... "You Reap What You Woe" pushes the ongoing narrative aside for a bit. Eugene was left in a coma by the monster attack, a very annoying reeling back of the previous episode's cliffhanger. The details of what happened back in 1991, that Wednesday uncovers piece by piece, are very stupid. If the solution to your mystery involves mind control potions, you've written a bad mystery. Still, at least the fate of characters we actually care about are at stake here. If the Addams Family must be at the center of some grand intrigue, Gomez having possibly murdered another man for Morticia's affection feels a lot more in-character than whatever bullshit the season is building towards. It also helps a lot that this particular story line is resolved in one hour, instead of being dragged out intermittently for an entire season. 

Actually centering an episode of an Addams Family series on the Addams Family feels like an obvious conclusion. However, it's something "Wednesday" clearly is struggling with, if the subplots of this installment are anything to go by. Enid has a guilting, heavy-handed mother. She eventually gives her daughter pamphlets for "werewolf conversion" camps that will supposedly help Enid embrace her lycanthropic nature. Using a classic monster condition as a metaphor for being gay is an age-old practice. However, I think the allegory falls apart very quickly here. Enid is being told to embrace her inner nature, not deny it. Unlike queer teenagers sent off to abusive "prayer the gay away" camps by bigoted parents, she actually is a werewolf. She also likes boys, in a very traditionally girlish manner, making any attempted parallels seem wrong-headed. Enid's mom is worried about her daughter because she's a late bloomer, not because her lifestyle disagrees with them. It's a weird choice but at least Emma Myers is charming. An additional subplot about the siren girl's mother being in a cult or something is absolutely impossible to care about. More bullshit grist to occupy the runtime with on the way to the A-plot's conclusion, that I'm sure future episodes belabor unnecessarily upon. Who on the writer staff for this show had unresolved mama drama and why did they feel the need to insert it into multiple subplots? [5/10]

Thriller: A Wig for Miss Devore
 

Through no intentional move on my behalf, there's the second classic horror anthology episode I've watched this month to feature John Fiedler. In “A Wig for Miss Devore,” he plays the agent for the eponymous Sheila Devore. A once promising actress, Miss Devore is already washed-up and her looks faded by the age of 31. She is plotting a comeback though and finds a perfect vehicle in the story of Meg Peyton, a 18th century woman hanged at the gallows for witchcraft. Legend has it that Peyton wear a wig woven from the hairs of her victims, which granted her eternal youth and fame as long as she kept it on. Studio head Max Quinke has been keeping the residuals to Sheila's past hits to himself, information Herbert uses to blackmail him into funding the actress' comeback vehicle. Devore secures Meg Peyton's actual wig for the production, wearing it and being as strikingly beautiful again as she once was. Filming goes off without a hitch and the movie is a hit. The director marries Sheila. Yet the men around her seem to keep dying mysteriously. First Max and then her new husband, both of them found with horrible scratches over their faces. Now, what could possibly be the link there, I wonder? 

“A Wig for Miss Devore” is about the fourth episode of “Thriller” I've seen that resolves around a cursed object. Several of those were written by Robert Bloch, while this one is based on a story from fellow Weird Tales graduate August Derlith. I suppose this speaks to the way the pulp writers of the forties and fifties placed classical gothic horror tropes in modern contexts. “A Wig for Miss Devore” has quite a contemporary context, taking place in the world of Hollywood. The story of an aging and somewhat delusional actress recalls both “Sunset Boulevard” and “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?” The script doesn't seem to have much insight into the wages of fame or how the shallow film industry treats women though. The episode plays Sheila as both somewhat victimized by the men around her, like the scheming Max and the manipulative husband, while also having her be a femme fatale. (While also implying that she's not that talented, seemingly only known for her looks.) I suppose the idea is that revenge hardens the heart of everyone, even those with justifiable grievances. Or perhaps the story is simply speaking to the cut throat, ruthless nature of the motion picture business. A woman has to resort to witchcraft and murder if she hopes to claw her way back to the top, in an industry that discards any actress for the crime of simply getting a little older.

Trying to dig up too much deeper meaning here is difficult though. Instead, it's a pretty simple fable, of someone with an insatiable vanity that eventually proves to be their own undoing. Patricia Barry does give a fine performance in the titular role, striking the viewer at first as an airhead type before revealing her more calculating, vicious side. The men around her prove to be properly spineless or deceiving. I wish so much of the story's ironic pay-off wasn't shoved into its last minute. I've not read Derluth's story but this feels like an encapsulation of a longer tale. In my experience, what “Thriller” really excelled at was fantastic final shocks and a willingness to be surprisingly grim for the time. “A Wig for Miss Devore” does have a gory final image and, by the standards of 1962, it was probably fairly shocking. It's also not as good as the shock endings we got in “The Cheaters” or “The Hungry Glass.” However, there is a memorable image here. Whenever Miss Devore removes her wig, until the final minutes, all we see are aged, ghastly hands groping through the shadowy air. That's pretty cool. I do wish more episodes of this series had Boris Karloff doing both an intro and an outra, Hitchcock and Sterling style, cause I do enjoy his baroque monologues. [7/10]

 

 

Halloween 2026: October 5th

 

The Thing (2011)
 

John Carpenter's “The Thing” ranks near the top of any list of obvious future classics that were initially dismissed by audiences and critics. This is the most basic piece of trivia about the movie. Nine years after the film's unsuccessful theatrical run, enough of a cult following had built up to make a continuation of some sort commercially viable. That's when “Darkman” screenwriter Chuck Pfarrer pitched Universal on a sequel. The studio passed on the treatment but it would re-emerge as a comic book from Dark Horse. (Re-titled “The Thing from Another World,” to distinguish itself from Marvel's ever-lovin', blue-eyed variety.) Three further comic book arcs sprung off from that one, proving that there was demand for more Things. This would kick off a series of attempts to sequelize Carpenter's remake but, in the metamorphic nature of the alien threat, always in mediums other than film. There was an almost well received video game in 2002. Three years after that, Frank Darabont attempted to produce a four hour long television mini-series for the Sci-Fi Channel. This would've depicted what happens when the Thing reaches a populated area. That didn't get made but, in 2007, you could walk through a Halloween Horror Nights maze based on the film.
 
All of this suggested a serious desire to replicate the 1982 film. During the horror reboot hungry new millennium, rumors of a remake of Carpenter's remake sprung from the ice. Quickly realizing that an imperfect clone would be unflatteringly compared to the progenitor, it was decided to follow the second most hacky trend of the time and do a prequel about the Norwegian camp instead. Dutchman Matthijs van Heijningen Jr. quickly boarded as director and a new “Thing” finally grew. Much like another horror reboot Universal made around the same time, the film was subjected to clueless executive meddling and reshoots. Fans and critics generally saw the prequel as an unconvincing copy of what came before. Though it did duplicate Carpenter's work in the sense that it also didn't make much money at the box office... Despite general audiences rejecting the premise twice now, there has been some hubbub recently about another stab at “The Thing.” It remains to be seen if anything will sprout from that but it did prompt me to revisit this prequel, to see if it was better than I recalled from a decade ago. 

And so we return to the frozen wasteland of Antarctica, slightly before the last time we visited it. A Norwegian research team from Thule Station are crossing the ice when their vehicle plunges through the surface. Within, they make two startling discoveries: An apparent otherworldly space craft and, a short distance away from it, the frozen remains of its very inhuman passenger. Kate Lloyd, an American paleontologist who specializes in excavating fossils from the ice, is called in to assist. The team successfully removes the hunk of glacier containing the life form and takes it back to the station. Team leader Dr. Halvorson is ecstatic to have made the paradigm shifting discovery that man is not alone in the universe. Kate and the others, including American helicopter pilot Sam, are less certain. That feeling grows when the thing in the ice breaks out, springing back to life after millions of years. Worst yet, the creature possesses the ability to assimilate and perfectly replicate living tissue. Now, much like an American team will discover in the near future, the residents of the station must contend with the shapeshifting Thing and their own paranoia about who could possibly be it. 

While the uncertainty of its ending has been endlessly discussed, Carpenter's "Thing" is greatly served by ambiguity all throughout. Who among the cast is the monster is rarely certain. The "what" around the creature is largely explained, "where" remains a vague answer of outer space, and the "why" is totally unrevealed. What happened at the Norwegian base is a purposely intriguing question, meant to draw the audience in further and foreshadow what will happen to the Americans soon, but the specific details were a mystery. All of these touches are what makes "The Thing" the intriguing, involving film it is. The prequel, meanwhile, seeks to answer as many questions as possible. Heijningen and his team went through the exploratory scene set at the abandoned base with a fine-tooth comb. They then built their film around showing us the exact steps that led to each little detail. Even minor ones like an axe embedded in a wall or an overturned shelf. It's a well-intentioned but flawed thesis, misunderstanding the purpose of a scene meant largely to entice and forebode as backstory that must be breathlessly detailed. This is the kind of fan boy brain better applied to wikia pages than narratives. 

This is not the main bone of contention people have to pick with 2011's "The Thing" though. No, the prequel was vexed by the exact annoying bullshit everyone feared from a modern day follow-up. Tom Woodruff Jr.'s Amalgamated Dynamics created practical creature effects for the project and they were used on-set. After test audiences complained that the results "looked like an eighties movie," CGI was hastily plastered over the rubber and latex. The effects team were so dismayed at the last minute changes that Woodruff ended up crowdfunding his own "Thing" inspired, all-practical (and totally forgettable) movie. Heijningen, meanwhile, has expressed regret over kowtowing to a clueless studio. Some internet users have petitioned for a release of the unaltered footage, if not a full director's cut of the prequel. This presents a tidy, fan-favorite narrative, of the promising young filmmaker having his vision ruined by air-headed execs. Of a disregard of hand-made artistry in favor of shiny, modern technology that will age far quicker and far worse. 

Now, I have no doubt that the practical creature make-up was easily superior to the rushed out CGI the final film utilizes. The digital effects are often poorly combined with the live actors. A face splitting in two or the final adversary both look especially unconvincing. However, Woodruff has clarified that his team's designs were maintained, the puppetry merely replaced with identical if less convincing CGI. None of the monstrous forms on-display here compare in any way to the work of a sleep-deprived, coked-up, young and hungry Rob Bottin. The original film featured asymmetrical creations, flesh that twisted and warped with a vicious nightmare logic. It combined the very familiar frailty of our human bodies with unexpected sights and sounds, to create a truly alien seeming entity. The prequel, meanwhile, always seems to center a face or jaws in its mutations. There are a lot of vagina dentata like maws or stabbing tentacles shooting forward like arrows. Bodies bend and flop around but are still recognizably human. The one clever gag the film has, an arm suddenly detaching, is quickly squandered by the film returning to gaping, toothy, screeching mouths. While the mediocre digital blanket job does the designs no favor, they repeatedly show a lack of imagination. Never once did the transformations make me wonder what the hell I was looking at, which is kind of an essential quality for this material. 

That lack of imagination is apparent in other elements of the film. While not technically a remake, 2011's “The Thing” essentially operates as one. Many of the iconic moments have similar sequences here. The beloved blood test is reprised, this time with fillings in teeth being used as the indicator that someone is still human. The aforementioned bit with the arm clearly recalls that time a head skittered across the floor. The prequel also concludes with a stand-off between the hero and the monster in its own lair, climaxing in a fiery explosion. Rather than expand on the first film, the script is content to merely repeat what worked before. Except Matthijs van Heijiningen Jr. isn't John Carpenter, with the rest of the crew clearly being similar downgrades. Instead of a score that emphasizes quiet unease, dramatic moments are punctuated with loud notes on the soundtrack. Instead of focusing on generating a feeling of isolation, the film goes for shit jumping out of the dark at you. 

2011's “The Thing” functions a lot like a modern legacy sequel, in the way it seems designed to simply remind viewers of a better movie with most of the changes being cosmetic. While Carpenter's “Thing” is famously devoid of female characters, this one has two. Mary Elizabeth Winstead stars as Kate. You'd think inserting a woman into an all-male space, especially in a story set in the early eighties, would present opportunities for commentary on gender dynamics or sexism or something. Kate is treated badly by Dr. Halvorson but not because she's a woman. It's because he's an asshole who is angered by anybody who challenges his plans. If a man had played this part, her function in the story would be entirely unchanged. Which is either the most progressive position you can take or renders the choice so arbitrary as to make you wonder why it was done at all. Having the French doctor also be a woman doesn't make this a male-exclusive environment anyway, so I guess it doesn't matter. 

Perhaps I'm nitpicking, complaining about what a film isn't and not about what it is. However, if a quasi-remake does little more than make changes simply to be different from the original, something has gone astray. A pun about how the authors of this "Thing" were not as good at copying as their titular menace is unavoidable. Personally, I think if you are going to make a belated follow-up to an iconic film, you're better served not blatantly emulating scenes and story beats from such a highly regarded work. Maybe the next remake should go back to the monster being a plant guy. What makes this "Thing" more unnecessary is that a far more clever remix of Carpenter's classic was released the year before. Peter Watts' short story "The Things" retells the 1982 events from the perspective of the alien, aghast that Earthlings are unable to shapeshift and unwilling to be assimilated. I don't know how you'd translate that story cinematically but it would make for a more interesting variation than this unimaginative prequel. [5/10]

In the Shadow of Kilimanjaro (1986)

You might not have heard of Raju Patel but he had a curious life and career. The son of an India born filmmaker, he was born and raised in Kenya. His dad, Sharad Patel, had some success with the biopic about Idi Amin where imprisoned journalist Denis Hills played himself. With business dealings in both England and America, Patel would have a pretty big hit with sex comedy “Bacholer Party” at only 24 years old. He would work on Disney movies, Hindi-language productions, and collaborated with random names like Mark Damon and Michael Jackson. He then checked out of life early, dying in his forties of colon cancer. Despite his eccentric career, Raju Patel would only direct one feature. That would be “In the Shadow of Kilimanjaro,” an international co-production that nonetheless still qualifies as one of the few horror movies made in Kenya. It's a trap-on-VHS cast-off that has a pretty good title, which is why I remember it. After all, if you're going to put a famous African mountain in a horror movie, probably a good idea to go with the one that has “Kill” in its name.

Within the shadow of the titular mountain peak are the key locations the film takes place in: The small village of Namanga, a school building for the local youths, a mining operation overseen by an Australian named Chris Tucker, and a hotel/bar that largely serves the miners. The area is caught in an on-going drought and it's causing the local wildlife to behave aggressively. American zoologist Jack Ringtree, while awaiting for his wife to arrive in the village, discovers a child orphaned after her mother is killed by unknown animals. This proceeds further violent attacks, the responsible party being a large troop of vicious baboons. Jack tries to alert the authorities and evacuate the area but his concerns are dismissed. It's not too long before the baboon attacks increase in frequency and intensity, soon trapping the locals within the hotel. 

Among the various dangerous wildlife of the African plains, the Chacma baboon probably ranks far below the more well-known body counts of lions, elephants, hippos, cape buffalo, wild dogs, hyenas, and so forth. Which is not to say that the baboon can't make for a properly intimidating visual. They have those massive fangs after all, the puffy face pads, the big red butts, the sinewy little bodies. While their primate intelligence has made them nuisances to people over the years, it's mostly the fact that they are exceptionally crazy looking when pissed off that makes the baboon a decent movie monster. “In the Shadow of Kilimanjaro” exploits this nicely. The baboon attack scenes, mostly done with real animals, get a lot of mileage out of the apparent ferocity of these monkeys. A swarming pack of angry baboons going right for your face is, indeed, a scary thought. “In the Shadow of Kilimanjaro” emphasizes this with some surprisingly gory special effects, of severed limbs and other body parts slumping to the ground as the beasties tear people apart. 

At the same time, the premise of “In the Shadow of Kilimanjaro” may strike some as, at the very least, unlikely. Baboons are not historically known to be man-eaters and, in some lights, can be kind of cute. The film tries to deflect this thought by claiming to be based on a true story. (An internet search on the topic mostly redirects back to this movie, meaning it couldn't have been too well known an event.) Despite that, “In the Shadow of Kilimanjaro” still generates outrageous chuckles more often than gasps. A rather robotic looking baboon puppet is used for a few scenes. I do applaud the actor playing an airplane pilot in one sequence, who keeps on flying while a very real mad ape is going at his head. Despite that intensity, it's still a deliriously silly sequence. Vicious as they can appear, I guess there is something inherently comical about monkeys sometimes. Still, in its last third, when the film becomes something of a siege picture about a stranded group of survivors hiding in a single location from the rampaging horde, it does generate some okay tension. The wind blowing on the plains at night, wild beast with glowing eyes emerging out of the darkness through a broken window, isn't a bad effect.  

By some improbable coincidence, this is the second jungle-set movie I've reviewed this year that features John Rhys-Davis sporting a preposterous accent. This time, the Welsh thespian adopts an Australian accent as the overseer of the mining operations. He's joined by Timothy Bottoms as Jack. If all animal attack movies are “Jaws” rip-offs of a sort, Rhys-Davis would probably slot into the Quint role. Bottoms is a combination of Sheriff Brody – the low-level authority whose reasonable warnings are ignored by those in command – and Hooper, an animal expert. Unfortunately, the film does not flesh its lead characters out any beyond that. The subplot of Jack and his wife's stormy relationship is nothing but filler. There appears to be an undercurrent in the script, criticizing white industrialists exploiting the natural resources of Kenya. This is most apparent in Don Blakely's role as the elderly, fairly racist hotel owner. This idea never germinates into anything substantial though. The film misses the chance to have its clueless town leader get munched by some crazed monkeys. I guess that correlates with the mayor making it out of “Jaws” unscathed. 

The underwhelming character work pairs with an abrupt and unsatisfying ending, though I suppose it's as logical a conclusion as you'd expect from a story about a drought. “In the Shadow of Kilimanjaro” never quite comes together. The script is too thinly sketched and unable to mine consistent thrills out of its fuzzy threats. Which isn't to say that there isn't some novelty to a baboons go bananas horror flick, especially one set on the actual African continent. (Which distinguishes this one from “Shakma,” whose trailer is slightly funnier, on the short list of baboon-sploitation flicks.) Raju Patel, or at least the team he hired, does show a semi-decent handling of the material, suggesting he probably could have made better movies than this one further down the line. I guess the experience of wrangling a pack of literal baboons did not endear the directional process to the guy. This is definitely a film I wanted to like more than I actually did, if only because of its novelty, but there's not quite enough here to make it stick. Though that airplane attack scene is hilarious. [6/10]

 

 

Wednesday: Woe What a Night
 

I feel like any time I review a modern streaming series, all I do is complain about how these shows are paced, plotted, and structured. The fourth episode of "Wednesday" is a case study example of how sloppy this style is. The show has stacked up a collection of plot threads that it can leap between whenever it wants, with no concern for tonal consistency, satisfying pacing, or overall coherence. This installment sees Wednesday digging deeper into her investigation of the wide-eyed monster in the woods, presenting her evidence to an annoyed and stunned Sheriff Galpin. She discovers that it takes body parts from each of its victims and seems to find its cave lair. She spots some scratches on Xavier's neck and uncovers his secret art studio, which includes paintings of the beast. Suspecting him of being connected to the killer, Wednesday instead ends up asking Xavier out to the upcoming school dance to cover for herself. 

This uncorks a mess of soap opera-like romantic entanglements. Enid goes to the dance with another guy, one of the bullies in town, to make Ajax jealous after he stood her up the other night. Xavier apparently genuinely likes Wednesday and, when he discovers that she only asked him out because of the mystery, he asks his siren ex-girlfriend to erase his memories of the Addams. But Wednesday still has a date to the dance cause Thing, of his own accord, asked normie townie boy Tyler to take her instead. That's not all of the melodrama at work here, as nerdy beekeeping boy Eugene is also harboring a crush on Enid. Oh my god, what the fuck. How is this an "Addams Family" show? Netflix really did take a premise designed to deliver goofy, morbid sight gags and turned it into a "Twilight" style supernatural romance for teenagers and fandom-brained Tumblr users. 

By 2022, however, the comic strip and sitcom that spawned her was long since overshadowed by the snarky goth girl archetype that Wednesday Addams became in the popular consciousness. "Wednesday" is a show more for people who saw the Barry Sonnefield films as a kid and caught a crush on Christina Ricci or fans of some YouTube cosplay account than anything else. I mean, the character imprinted on young me too, leading to an unfortunate life long fascination for women with dark hair, black clothes, cyanide wits, and undiagnosed BPD. Tim Burton deserves a lot of blame for the commodification of the goth subculture too, which makes his involvement with this show almost satirically on-the-nose. This episode really gets at how annoying this entire shtick has become in two moments. That is when a character tells Wednesday how he admires how free and unburdened she is by social expectations. Once again, it is hammered that Wednesday is a self-styled outcast, unpopular with her peers. A bit hard to buy that when she's at the center of two separate crushes in this episode alone and her family clearly has a long history with the school she's attending. Another scene has Wednesday criticizing the "objectification of women and the male gaze," a tweet misconstrued into dialogue. The episode then features the obviously movie star pretty Jenna Ortega doing a wacky girl dance at the goth prom to a Cramps song. It is a moment so tailor-made to appeal to people with a fetish for superficial strangeness that it's really as objectifying and othering for the young woman at its center as a strip tease would be. 

Of course, that scene became a viral sensation and is probably the main reason "Wednesday" became such a hit for Netflix. Like I said, I'm part of the problem. I liked that scene. It is one of the few moments "Woe What a Night" emerges from its own mess of subplots and rehashed cliches to show a spark of energy or wit. The "Carrie" homage that follows is predictable as can be but Ortega's enthusiasm and then disappointment with the stunt actually got a laugh out of me. So did how she stumbles through her attempt to ask the long-haired pretty boy to the dance. Or the genuinely cool shot of her and Enid in their dorm, split right down the middle between their two distinctive aesthetics. All of this suggests that if "Wednesday" was as much of a sitcom as the show that spawned it, merely about contrasting the protagonist's particular behavior against stratified adolescent social rituals, it would probably be consistently funny. Alas, such a humble pleasure is beyond the modern media landscape and I have four more episodes of this show, that I very stupidly promised to review, to wade through. [5/10]
 

 

The Twilight Zone: To Serve Man

As with past installments I've covered, I know the twist ending of "To Serve Man," the 24th episode of "The Twilight Zone's" third season, very well.  The rest of the episode is discussed less often. Alien beings known as the Kanamit arrived on Earth. They come in peace and, moreover, generosity. The beings speak to the United Nations from a book and offer endless treasures. While people are skeptical at first, the Kanamits lives up to their offers. They turn barren deserts into verdant fields. They offer impenetrable force fields to each nation, ending all international conflict overnight. They also willingly submit themselves to any tests the Earth governments ask for. Among these is an attempt by the American government to translate the significant book the aliens brought with them, whose title means "To Serve Man." Chambers, a cryptographer, and his assistant Patty work at the task. As pleasure cruises from Earth to the Kanamit home world begin, Chambers decides to join such a ride. As he boards the vessel, Patty arrives to inform him of the book's true purpose... 

The outlook of Rod Serling's work was usually pessimistic. Many of his stories reflect a belief that, while the individual person might be good, the human race is destined to destroy itself over petty grievances. "To Serve Man" is a bit unusual in that an outside force is the antagonist. Nine foot tall, dome-headed aliens arrive extending a glad hand only for it to hide more sinister intentions. It is tempting to read the moral as xenophobic or at least extremely cautious: Don't trust any offer that seems too good to be true. It reminds me of Hansel and Gretel, where endless generosity and a shelter in a storm are only a precursor to pure predation. All that kindness is to disarm you. All those sweets are just to fatten you up. While "To Serve Man" is ultimately cynical in its perspective, I do think Serling is criticizing mankind's preference for easy answers and gluttony more than anything else. Alien saviors arrive and resolve all our problems instantly. It makes us so happy that we can barely stop to consider their motivations. Moreover, the Kanamit promises endless pleasures too. Why, as a man boarding their ship excitedly shouts, they even have baseball on their home world. Maybe that fairy tale comparison is apt and the episode should be taken as a simple warning that good intentions are not always what they seem. Now, as then, tis simple truth, sweetest tongue has sharpest tooth. Literally, in this case. 

My initial reaction to "To Serve Man" is once again astonishment at how economical vintage television could be in its story telling. This is a far reaching story, about the entire planet's reaction to otherworldly visitors, and ends in outer space. Despite that, it runs a half-hour and mostly takes place in a few simple rooms. The action is mostly composed of people talking. Somehow, the stakes never feel artificial and the audience never feels cheapen. The U.N. setting establishes the global impact of these events and the seriousness with which each actor approaches the material makes the consequences feel fittingly important. I really like the montage in which leaders of various countries thank and welcome the alien visitors, speaking in their own languages with the translation appearing as a news ticker at the bottom of the screen. It shows that newsreels and stock footage – notable examples immediately recognizable as from "The Day the Earth Stood Still" and "Earth vs. The Flying Saucers" – can indeed be used to create a sense of scale and wide-reaching events. It's never the budget of a project but always the people utilizing it. 

"To Serve Man" doesn't have the intense expressionistic visuals of "Eye of the Beholder" nor the surreal nightmare logic of "It's A Good Life." Director Richard L. Bare – who would go on to direct "Wicked, Wicked" and 166 episodes of "Green Acres" – mostly keeps things simple. Though I do like the Kanamit being introduced first as a towering shadow on the wall before we see its face. Beloved tall guy Richard Kiel plays the lead alien. While the bulging cranium and white robes are typical of extraterrestrial depictions of the time, the Kanamit communicating strictly via telepathy means their faces are unmoving. Their eyes seem to project dull, animalistic instincts while their mouth droops open slightly, like a dog salivating over a ham bone. Maybe that's meant to be a hint to their motivations being hunger, not kindness. The ending is one of bitter irony, the title being revealed as a sick punchline, and the final moments being a grim conclusion that the wilier predator is always destined to eat the lesser one. Pretty good stuff. A tasty meal served quickly and effectively. [7/10]