Halloween 2026: October 1st

Satan's Slaves (1980)

Pengabdi Setan
 

Indonesia was ruled by a dictatorship from 1967 to 1998, which is normally not ideal circumstances for running a commercial film industry. Especially when it comes to a genre like horror, which specializes in shocking or subversive ideas. While horror movies were de-facto banned at certain points during the New Domain era, the genre actually flourished in Indonesian in the seventies and eighties. I've already talked about some of the crazy exploitation creature features to come out of the country during that time. The movie that truly kicked off the eighties horror boom in Indonesia is 1980's “Satan's Slaves,” which shows the interesting ways the regime's oversight effected how these movies were written and made. 

Munarto has recently lost his wife. His children, teenage son Tomi and out-going daughter Rita, have lost a mother. Immediately following her passing, strange things begin to happen around the house. Tomi sees his mother's ghost, receives a warning from a fortune teller, and becomes interested in black magic. A housekeeper named Darminah, a mysteriously alluring woman, arrives at the home without explanation. Rita begins to see the spectre of her mother too. Her boyfriend is violently killed in a motorcycle wreck. The family's groundskeeper is found hanging from a noose in the shed. While Munarto continues to dismiss his children's concerns, they are increasingly harassed by visions of the dead. They believe Darminah is connected to the hauntings and this is true. She raises the corpses of the family's deceased loved ones to torment them further. 

As I've tracked down more international horror flicks from the seventies and eighties, it's become common for me to comment on the influence Hollywood blockbusters had on foreign productions. Indonesian producers were not above mining American films for ideas. More than one reviewer has called “Satan's Slaves” a rip-off of “Phantasm,” which strikes me as a stretch. Had Don Coscarelli's low-budget cult classic even reached the south seas by 1980? Aside from Tomi seeing a fortune teller after his mother's death, I don't see anything but general parallels between these two stories  a teenage boy going through familial grief and encountering supernatural terror. Instead, “Satan's Slaves” filters a number of well-known cinematic horror tropes through an Indonesian sensibility. The sequence of Herman dying in a freak motorcycle accident, after a vision of Darminah, brings “The Omen” to mind. The presence of religion being used to ward off demonic spirits seems likely influenced by “The Exorcist.” In general, the movie freely mixes elements from haunted house and zombie movies to create an interesting blend of spooky shenanigans.  

What makes “Satan's Slaves” especially fascinating is how its Indonesian perspective effects these familiar story elements. You are probably aware that Islam is the majority religion in Indonesia, the country in fact having the largest Muslim population of any in the world. This is clearly reflected in “Satan's Slaves.” Supporting characters repeatedly clarify that the family has invited in these demonic presences by not committing to the faith. While looking for a book on black magic, Tomi is instructed by an Islamic kyai to focus on his prayers instead. The finale clarifies that the movie's villain specifically targets people who have abandoned their faith. The ending piles on the power of the Qu'ran to drive out evil, one of the final images of the film being a crescent moon and star above a masque. This message was mandated by the government, who insisted that salacious horror movies at least reinforce religious conformity. In effect, this means “Satan's Slaves” operates exactly the same as most Western horror movies, in which the crucifix wards off evil and Catholic priests exorcise demons, but simply with another religion's symbols and garb in its place.

As someone interested in other cultures and their perspective on the world, that's intriguing to me. But the main reason I loved the previous Indonesian horror movies I've seen is because they were crazy. “Satan's Slaves” does not pile on the psychotronic elements that way “Mystics in Bali” or “The Queen of Black Magic” did. There is a wild sequence, in which Tomi has a nightmare where cultists in Halloween masks lead him down into an underground chamber, where some Satanic bullshit is happening. The last act also features the amusing revelation that Darminah apparently receives a perm when fully embracing her witchy ways. Otherwise though, this one emphasizes a creepy atmosphere much more over wild set pieces. The sequences devoted to the ghostly mother appearing are effective. The finale gets gorier and campier, with pasty-faced zombies threatening the family. The same can be said of the failed exorcism a shaman attempts. However, I would say that “Satan's Slaves” does a good job of balancing trashier thrills with a more foreboding ambiance. 

While the crash-zooms and unnaturally bright red blood definitely push “Satan's Slaves” into the realm of wacky cult movie, the story is ultimately rooted in a very real feeling. The death of their mother destabilizes Tomi and his family. The father looses himself in his work to cope, as dads often do. Rita spends more time with her boyfriend and parties more, to distract and dull the pain. The boy is left alone in his room, turning to mysticism to find the comfort a family too wrapped up in their own grief can provide him. Yes, “Satan's Slaves” ultimately pushes towards a didactic message about how there is no god but Allah and Muhammad is his prophet. However, that precedes your classical ominous closing credit moment. Maybe their renewed faith will re-center the family. But Tomi's innocence will still be gone, having learned that there is pain and loss and evil in this world. 

I can see why “Satan's Slaves” garnered a reputation as a cult classic of Indonesian horror. It's gory enough and has shrieking, beady-eyed zombies to appeal to the gore-heads and monster kids. The aesthetic is certainly on the campier side, with the seventies fashion and style. However, it has a certain creepy power to it and deeper ideas lurking within. The original would regain a lot of its reputation following Joko Anwar's remake, which has since spawned two sequels of its own. Okay but do those have the word of Allah saving the day? I think I'm a convert now. Anyway, I liked this. Good stuff. [7/10]

Man's Best Friend (1993)
 

Well, it finally happened. For years now, after seeing a movie at the geographically closer but shittier movie theater than the nicer one further in town, my buddy and I would sometimes hit the mall next door afterwards. We'd walk around and bullshit but our favorite way to waste time was to head to the F*Y*E within. Almost always, we would browse through the horror section. Sometimes, I would find some random title I didn't already own at the exact price I was willing to pay for it. After many years of enjoying this activity, the dwindling mainstream audience for physical media has led the location to close its door. It's not exactly a loss, as FYE's prices were ridiculously marked-up and their selection of actual Blu-Rays not that great. Nevertheless, I will miss it. To commemorate the end of this era, I had to find a horror movie worth owning that cost less than ten bucks. That's where “Man's Best Friend” comes in, the exact kind of mid-tier minor cult classic ideal for such an occasion. 

Our protagonist is Lori Tanner, a news reporter for a local station desperate to crack a big story. She breaks into a genetic engineering facility called EMAX with a camera person in tow, Lori knows that a story about animals being abused by heartless scientist will tug at heart strings. At the center of a lab full of exotic animals, she discovers a big but otherwise normal looking dog. After the animal protects her from a mugger, she brings him home. Calling him Max, the dog becomes fiercely protective of Lori. What she doesn't know is that Max is no ordinary mutt. Intead, he's a genetically engineered super-dog with a litany of abilities borrowed from other creatures. His creator, Dr. Jarrett, is determined to get him back. Partially because it's his research but also because Max's sanity is degrading, making him dangerously violent. That's why this canine is killing anyone in Lori's suburb that displeases him. Will Lori be able to protect Max or will her pooch's deteriorating condition see him turning on his master?

“Man's Best Friend” is part of a peculiar tradition that flourished in the nineties: R-rated movies that are clearly intended for children. The film was written and directed by John Lafia, whose “Child's Play 2” probably belongs tot he same trend. In many ways, the film is a horror version of the previous year's “Beethoven.” This dog is so big and so unruly, he turns his owner's life upside down! Max does all the expected rascally dog behavior, like chasing a cat, aggravating a mail man, and stymieing the local dog catchers. As an animal, he's altogether wilder in his instincts than we rational humans are. At the same time, this doggo possesses an uncanny intelligence beyond what his breed usually entails. That sounds like a kid's movie and it basically is, except Max's shenanigans include tearing people's throats out. The movie embraces the idea of a super-killer dog the way a seven year old pitching a movie would. This is most evident in the sequence where he cocks a leg and urinates acid, which is naturally implied to someone's face later. The special effects used to bring such stunts, like Max leaping over a police car or climbing a tree with his extending jaguar claws, are less than convincing. Making it further obvious that this motion picture is made for young kids, several long scenes follow the plucky boy neighbor of Lori's that she allows in her house all the time. It really feels like someone mixed up a script for a family-friendly dog comedy with one of New Line Cinema's sillier horror sequels. 

Weirdly, this never results in any tonal inconsistencies. “Man's Best Friend” simply plays its goof-ball visions mostly straight. Lafia and his team clearly know that this is a very silly movie. An extended sequence has Max breaking into a home where a pretty female collie lives, the subsequent seduction/assault scored to Donny Osmond's “Puppy Love.” Technically, the day is saved at the end by another puppy, in a particularly unlikely turn of events that can only play like a joke. The biggest indicator that we aren't meant to take “Man's Best Friend” seriously is the parade of cartoonishly awful people it sets up for Max to decimate. The mail man carries mace and seems delighted to have a chance to use it on an aggressive dog. When Lori attempts to re-home the dog she technically stole, Max ends up in the hands of a junk yard owner who is grotesquely abusive. Lori's boyfriend is an obvious asshole who hates Max because the dog actually respects her boundaries. Max cuts his break lines. The cops on the case chokes down donuts and shit-talk each other with big, exaggerated Jersey accents, even though the movie is set in California. It's just one ridiculous caricature after another. 

“Man's Best Friend” is like this probably because it was written for seven year olds but also so the audience will align morally with Max. Yes, he's a gene-spliced murder-dog who maws at least one innocent person to death. Making most of his victims horrible people means we won't be upset when they get munched. This is unnecessary, of course. The audience is going to naturally like the dog. Simply because he's a big, fluffy, adorable puppy. The dog playing Max, a Tibetan Mastiff, has an extremely expressive face and cutely rolls around in a few poses. Lori is a totally oblivious character, unable to see the signs that Max is anything but an especially loyal dog. That loyalty naturally makes him even more sympathetic. That's why we love dogs. They stick by us, even when no one else will. Making Max a victim of cruel medical science further causes us to love him, despite ostensibly being the movie's monster.

Max is the movie's monster but not its villain. That falls to Lance Henriksen as Dr. Jarrett. He's the Dr. Frankenstein of this story, who unleashed a threat with his genius and now must destroyed. While the movie around him is silly as fuck, Henriksen plays the material with shocking seriousness. Lance's always-gravelly intensity manages to make the guy threatening no matter how absurd things get. That points out some deeper ideas lurking in the margins of the story. To Lori, Max is a beloved pet. To others, he's a killer, the kind of dynamic anyone who has owned a breed with a fearsome reputation is familiar with. The world calls pit bulls and Rottweilers horrors but, to those that love them, they are loyal companions. Of course, that doesn't mean that these animals don't hurt or kill people either. It's a complex role, these not-wolves we've let into our homes and hearts play. They are commercial products but living things, fiercely protected by some and thoughtlessly abused by others. Naturally, “Man's Best Friend” doesn't process these ideas in any meaningful way but I can't help but ponder on them afterwards.

In other words, this is a very goofy motion picture that can't help but entertain through its audacity. Looking back on it, I previously gave “Man's Best Friend” a low score. This is a testament to what a humorless scold I used to be as a teenager. Because, I mean, “Man's Best Friend” obviously rocks. Must I reference the acid dog piss again? How am I not supposed to love a movie containing such a moment? If it had been made more recently, the movie would probably be insufferably self-aware of its own silliness. Instead, “Man's Best Friend” appeared during that prime time for horror movies with a ludicrously childish perspective but an inability to acknowledge this. A classic, in other words. Yes, this is available in a restored and extras-packed edition but I'm going to hold onto the cheap DVD. As a reminder of my fallen video store and also because it's the exact kind of low-brow presentation a movie like this was made for. [7/10]

Monsters: Sin-Sop

Here's a season three episode of “Monsters” with an oddball premise. Reporter Laura Daniel arrives at the business of a Southern minister calling himself Brother Roy. He's running a “sin cleansing” operation out of his home. Upstairs, he has the embalmed body of what he claims was “one of the world's most evil men.” Now, if you are to grab a hold of the apparent corpse's hand, a few things happen. The body springs to life, its skin stretching and swelling. Your own body goes into seemingly pleasurable contortions. More green fluid is flushed out of the dead man and into a near-by bathtub. This process seemingly removes someone's sins from their body. Laura is skeptical at first but, after one grip of the dead body's hand, becomes convinced. That's when, Larch Lazaar, an on-the-run killer, shows up in the waiting room.

Since “Monsters” is only a half-hour television show, it does not time to get into the exact mechanics of the bizarre situation it presents to us. How did Brother Roy come into the possession of the dead body of such an evil man? Who is this evil man? Was he a military leader? A serial killer? A Republican senator? And how did his corpse acquire this ability and how does it work? Moreover, how exactly does one measure the quality of “sin?” I would think this is a debate people have been having for centuries, about the relative morality of certain actions versus another. The cleansing process seems to be an orgasmic experience for the participant, which I imagine some would classify as a sin by itself. Meanwhile, what is Brother Roy's purpose here? His manner of dress, repeated references to “the good word,” and Southern accent all point towards him being some phony, televangelist type. Clearly, cleansing people of their sins is a good business venture but how does it effect one spiritually? Isn't the whole point of repenting that the person recognized they've sin in the first place? This process seems to work whether the customer believes in it or not.

Anyway, that's definitely me overthinking. “Sin-Sop” is currently the fourth highest ranked episode of “Monsters” on IMDb, suggesting it's well-regarded by the weirdos who watch old anthology shows and then bother to rate them online. Like predecessor series “Tales from the Darkside,” I think “Monsters” is most remembered by people who caught a random episode as a kid and was frightened by what they saw. I suspect “Sin-Sop” was a big source of such kindertrauma. Namely, the finale features a lot of casual body horror, of the corpse's skin inflating and bloating while green slime oozes out of various orifices. While I still don't entirely understand what the fuck the logic is behind this story, I do appreciate some good slow and rubber bladders gags. This was an early gig for direct P.J. Pesce, who would go on to make direct-to-video sequels to “From Dusk Til Dawn” and “The Lost Boys.” He would also direct a couple episode of Shudder's “Creepshow” series, which feels like a deliberate reference to his work on this show. I can't really vouch for the quality of his work but he sure could direct the heck out of an oozing zombie attack. [5/10]

 

 

Friday the 13th: The Series: The Pirate's Promise

I feel like I was just arguing for the validity of the pirate as a horror character and here comes “Friday the 13th: The Series” to back me up. The Artifact of Doom this week is a cursed foghorn that can summon the ghost of Angus McBride, a 17th century pirate who buried his treasure near-by before being killed by his mutinous crew. Now, in exchange for the blood of the descendants of said crew, he'll reveal the location of said treasure. Somehow, the owner of the lighthouse Joe Fenton has become aware of this. He's sacrificing people in the seaside town, each of them unaware of their connection to the legendary pirate. Joe's brother, Dewey, operates the nautical museum adjacent to the lighthouse and contacts Ryan and Micki about the foghorn, bringing our heroes into this tale of high-tight haunted and pirated plunder. 

By now, it should be obvious that I prefer television programs with episodic plotting. However, there's a downside to this sometimes too. Sometimes, an episode comes along that feels a little detached from the actual series. Ryan and Micki are on the road again, Jack nowhere to be seen in this one. That means “The Pirate's Promise” seems devoted largely to the rivalry of the brothers in this seaside town, alongside the related people here and there. It seems the plot here is more about these supporting characters than our actual protagonists. The final scene is Micki expressing some grief over the death of someone she recently became friends with. This feels a bit like a fanfic where the established heroes are written going on about how great the author's original creations. 

So this one does not have a lot of the interaction between the cast members we like. What it does have is some good spooky pirate shenanigans. Every time the evil fog horn is sounded, the ghostly gallon pulls up through the bank of fog. Ol' Captain McBride rides in a boat, his hook hand flashing through the mist. The episode mostly keeps the captain in the shadows, until a decently executed shocking reveal towards the end. There's also an amusing cut between an axe coming up and then coming down, where a commercial break would've aired during the broadcast version. The twist ending is extremely easy to predict but does prove somewhat satisfying anyway. A fairly middling episode that doesn't focus on the show's strengths but I do love me a good ghost pirate. [6/10]

Halloween 2026: September 14th

 

The Bride! (2026)
 

On the page, she was less of a character and more of a plot device. In chapter 22 of Mary Shelley's novel, Victor Frankenstein's creation demands his “father” make him a companion. At the last minute, Vic gets the jitters and tears the un-animated flesh homunculus apart. That was the extent of the character's original appearance. When William Hurlbut very loosely adapted the story to cinema in 1935, she was at least given a pulse, a swan's hiss of a voice, and an iconic hair-do. Her screen time also maxed out at about four minutes and she was still without name. She was The Monster's Mate in the credits. On the marquee, and in the public consciousness, she'll always be The Bride of Frankenstein. As men often do, we became enamored despite only getting a glimpse. Despite the briefness of her roots, the Bride has often reappeared alongside her groom. Sometimes she gets a name of her own too, like Eva or Pandora or Lily. Feminist readings of Shelley's work are, obviously, common. This has lead to many attempts to provide such a reading of a character who has always been known as an extension of a man. A big budget attempt arrived in March of 2026, emphatically entitled “The Bride!” Some accused it of being a fiasco, others admired it, a few said it was a future cult classic. Obviously, as a bit of a “Frankenstein”-head myself, I was waiting to formulate my own opinion. 

In 1936 Chicago, the spirit of Mary Shelley possesses a gangster's moll named Ida. She is pushed down the stairs, snapping one leg and dying from a blow to the head. Not long afterwards, Frankenstein's monster seeks out a doctor named Cornelia Euphironius. He asks of her to make him a companion, after being alone for a hundred years. They dig up Ida's body and reanimate her. She has only brief remains of her memory and is furthered scattered by Shelley's spirit continuing to randomly speak through her. Frank tells her that she's his bride. After some jerks assault her outside a night club, the monster gruesomely murders the men. The reanimated corpses are now fugitives. Their bond grows as they travel the country. They see a bunch of movies starring Frank's favorite song-and-dance man, Ronnie Reed. Ida, now convinced her name is Penelope, accidentally triggers a revolution of feminist rage. Sometimes, they kill some more people. A detective named Jake Wiles, along with his hyper-confident secretary Myrna, pursue the monsters. He has a connection to Ida's past, which the newly christened Bride will soon uncover herself. 

Most of the negative reviews of “The Bride!” high-lighted the film's biggest swings. The movie quite sincerely begins with Mary Shelley's ghost announcing herself as the author of “Frankenstein.” Multiple visions or dream sequences are featured. Sometimes these will roll over into the stated reality of the film without warning. There are multiple musical numbers. Sometimes featuring willfully anachronistic song choices, at least two of which are songs already associated with “Frankenstein.” The climax is a slo-mo shoot-out. It is, to say the least, bold. It is also a lot. The performances are pitched at Nic Cage-ian levels of over-the-top from the first minute and never really calm down. The dialogue is laced with screamed profanity. There are several frantic monologues. When violence and sexual assault occur, it's graphic. The script rarely stops to give the audience much time to catch up with some of its narrative choices and the thematic ideas are often endlessly jumbled atop each other. The film is coming at you so hard, all the time, that the result is both impressive and embarrassing for everyone involved. 

Sometimes, the film's full-throated belief in its own ideas left me staring in disbelief. Such as whenever Mary Shelley's ghost interacts with the title character, which usually results in her spitting out loosely linked words. One of those aforementioned dance numbers has the main duo being backed up by the people around them going into bone-crunching, spasmodic gyrations for no particular reasons. Other times, I found myself enjoying the film's unbalanced amalgamation of various thirties film genre. Frank's love of classic musicals is a cute reoccurring detail, the ultimate outsider imagining himself as a smoothly moving star on the screen. The film most finds its footing when the monster couple emerge as undead Bonnie and Clydes, road tripping across depression era America and causing trouble whenever it suits them. Jessie Buckley and Christian Bale's theatrical vamping can sometimes be overbearing, both performers very aware of how much Acting they are doing. Penelope Cruz, meanwhile, is operating on the exact right level of stylized camp as a fast-talking, hyper-observant “His Girl Friday” type character. Maybe Maggie Gyllenhaal should have just made the whole movie about her instead. 

If “The Bride!” was just an overly ambitious mash-up of Frankenstein, classic gangster flicks, and old-time musicals high on its own supply, it would probably have been better received. However, Gyllenhaal's film also had to be a grand feminist statement. By which I mean, the film contains a half-formed subplot that is basically “Joker For the Ladies.” Ida/Penelope seems able to intrinsically or psychically feel other women's trauma. This leads to a scene of her listing off grievances in a crowded dance hall. It seemingly inspires women all over the country to paint their faces and tongues like her ink-splotch pattern and go on violent rampages against men, while screaming out catch-phrases and slogans taken from Ida's ramblings. It's another willfully anachronistic element in the film, as it's difficult to imagine a Fourth Wave Feminist uprising like that appearing in 1936. Much the same way “Joker” featured its murderous clown protagonist inspiring indiscriminate violent protests that did not seem to have any actual political ideology or rationale behind them, this subplot comes across as vague gesturing at broad social injustices. In this case, Women Be Persecuted, that has no depth nor any actual scruples behind it.

We can tell that “The Bride!'s” womanly rage is, if not insincere, at least poorly thought out. From the moment the Bride and Frankenstein meet, he is constructing their past together. He invents stories about how they met, how they got married, their sex lives, and more. He's been lying to her and manipulating her. When Ida discovers this, she's understandably upset and decides to call off their relationship... Before the last act essentially sees her take him back through a convoluted series of events. This dovetails with the detective subplot, which has Peter Sarsgaard – Gyllenhaal's husband, it must be noted – apologizing for all his past grievances against specific women and women in general. The way that thread resolves itself feels like one long asterisk on the movie's man-hating philosophy. Yes, personal and social boundaries between men and women are very complicated. Where love and desire fit in throughout true equality between the sexes and reparations against the historically awful treatment of women is a lot to consider. At the same time, stopping your diatribe against the mass abuse of womankind to insert a few “#NotAllMen!” moments feels curiously wrongheaded. 

Then again, “curiously wrongheaded” is probably an apt description for “The Bride!” overall. In addition to all its other high-minded ideas and various pastiches, I think the movie is also a meta-textual riff on the creation of “Frankenstein” itself. Making Mary Shelley a character suggests that the story of “Frankenstein” exists as both a fictional narrative and a real event within the film's universe. Light spoilers here, possibly: I think the ending of implies that somehow the knowledge of these events was sent back in time and inspired the writing of the novel in the first place? It's not very clear. Tie these weird narrative swings together with the bizarre tonal shifts, ruminations on men and women that are both way too obvious and contradictory, and a general tendency for the movie to be nutty or abrasive a lot of the time... It's not surprising many critics were simply baffled by “The Bride!” At the same time, I can't entirely dismiss the movie simply because it is so bold and so specific. Gyllenhaal had Some Thoughts and Feelings and this motion picture is an expression of them. It is confused mess, the kind of campy spectacle that begs people to hate it, but I can't dismiss it either. [6/10]

 

Bates Motel (1987)

“Psycho” becoming a multi-media franchise is kind of funny, when you think about it. It's a story of murder and sex, considered so shocking and upsetting in 1960 that it nearly changed the direction of horror single-handedly, and based on an extremely gruesome true crime case. How does that end up on lunch boxes and doing cross-band synergy with Hello Kitty? However, the facade of the hotel and Bates house have been part of the Universal Studios tram tour since 1964. While the theatrical “Psycho” sequels were a little more respectable to the legacy of the original, this cannot be said for all the cinematic extensions of the Bates brand. In the late eighties, “The Hitchhiker” creator Richard Rothstein would attempt to build a similar quasi-anthology show around “Psycho's” most infamous landmark. The pilot was poorly received and NBC burnt it off as a TV movie in the summer off-season of 1987. I'm fascinated by ill-conceived spin-offs of beloved properties, which meant I obviously had to write about this.

Well, everyone knows Norman Bates was paroled in 1983 and resumed his stabby shenanigans shortly afterwards. What “Bates Motel” presupposes is... Maybe, while institutionalized, he would befriend a young psycho-in-training named Alex West. The two would become so close that, after his passing, Norman would will the family hotel and home to this guy. With Norman's ashes in hand, Alex heads to Fairvale fully intending to honor his late friend's wishes. He learns that, in addition to the reputation of Norman and his mom's murders, the motel is also said to be haunted. He instead finds a struggling actress named Willie squatting in the derelict hotel. The two misfits become pals and Willie helps Alex re-launch the business. That's when a suicidal woman named Barbara arrives and rents the room, encountering some ghosts of her own.

The role of black comedy within Alfred Hitchcock's work has often been discussed and analyzed. Grim as “Psycho” is, it too has shades of a puckish sense of humor within it. This makes the idea of a comedic “Psycho”-inspired series not as unexpected as it sounds. However, that doesn't explain the logic behind the decision to turn “Bates Motel” into a full-blown farce. And not like a good, Marx Brothers farce either. The tone throughout much of “Bates Motel” is that of hacky, eighties sitcom buffoonery. Billie is introduced in a colorful chicken mascot costume, a gag that comes back several times. Billie's aggressively eccentric shenanigans includes dropping a plate while making meatloaf and leaving the shards of porcelain in with the meal. An earlier scene has a pair of bums – Buck Flowers and Carmen Filip, forever type-cast – attempting to drink the urn of Norman's ashes, mistaking it for a liquor bottle. The opening montage establishes a flippant tone, aggravatingly self-aware of its own corniness. This is consistent throughout, resulting in a “Psycho” spin-off that feels like an episode of “Three's Company” or something. 

It is a very odd tone to attach to what is ostensibly a sequel to one of the all-time great horror films. It is far from the only odd choice made here. The perspective “Bates Motel” series would have featured something like a “Fantasy Island” or “Love Boat” type set-up. While Alex and Billie would presumably be reoccurring characters, a new motel guest every week would bring with them a new B-plot. This element of “Bates Motel” doesn't appear until the movie is half-way over, after nearly an hour devoted to Alex buying and refurbishing the motel. The result is a lumpily paced film that randomly introduces a new story in the last third. The plot itself is of debatable merit. Khrystyne Haje is a suicidal woman whose depression manifests more as bursts of moping, that quickly turn around when people are nice to her. She encounters a group of partying teenagers with a strangely fifties style about them. It's obvious immediately that these kids are ghosts, youngsters who took their own lives and have returned from the great beyond to convince someone on the edge to do otherwise. The script approaches a very morose premise with nothing but a detached sentimentality, making it clear that a depression so crushing that someone considers ending themselves was not being taking very seriously. Sling-shoting from the slapstick comedy of the first half to the maudlin, if deeply insincere, melodrama of the second is baffling

I suppose one must also consider the validity of the premise, of the Bates Motel becoming a nexus point of supernatural activity. I mean, stupider premises have supported longer running shows. However, a nostalgic party of ghostly teens does seem like an odd companion piece to a story of serial murder and repressed sexuality. The other horror element of the film does feature a approximation of Mrs. Bates, wielding a knife. The conclusion of which is rather “Scooby-Doo”-ish, in both execution and resolution. Whether Alex and Billie could support a weekly series is also questionable. The recently passed Bud Cort, with his diminutive form and bug eyes, could easily bring an air of weirdo menace to the part. Instead, he plays Alex as almost childish in his naivety, such a pure soul that it's weird when you remember the character is already a murderer. Lori Petty plays Billie and it's the typical kind of role you got Lori Petty for. The character is a textbook Manic Pixie Dream Girl, existing only to uplift a socially awkward guy. Petty's always charming eccentric energy is a plus though. A scene where the two share a kiss is one of the few moments when I feel like I was watching actual human beings in “Bates Motel.” 

One cannot be surprised that “Bates Motel” would fail to go to series. The entire film is so stiflingly ill-conceived that I'm a little surprised it made it to air at all. I was left being reminded of the “Star Wars Holiday Special,” a made-for-TV spin-off of a beloved and highly influential film franchise that, rather than attempt to adapt the original's tone to the medium, sticks it within the crushing constraints of then television cliches. It even ends with a fourth wall break, furthering the campy TV artifact atmosphere. Perhaps some musical numbers or unsubtitled Wookie shenanigans would have enlivened this. Unlike that notorious piece of television, Universal has made no efforts to suppress “Bates Motel's” existence. It used to re-air on the Sci-Fi Channel with some regularity and has remained in-print on DVD. And eventually someone did launch a successful “Psycho” TV show named “Bates Motel,” though it was more connected to the film. Now, whether I would rather watch this again or endure more serialized genre television tedium is a question I would rather not consider... [3/10]
 

 

Dead of Night: Return Flight
 

Another partially lost BBC horror short-runner from the seventies, the two episodes of “Dead of Night” I previously wrote about are among the eeriest horror television I've ever seen. “Return Flight” is the last of the series' installments know to still exist. It concerns Captain Hamish Rolph, an airline pilot whose wife has recently died. On a late night flight, he must suddenly steer the plane to avoid colliding with another plane... He seems to think it was a WWII bomber but that couldn't be possible, could it? His boss and friend Frank Warley tries to check on Hamish's mental health. He longs for his dead wife, resents his absent daughter, and is nostalgic for his brief days as a pilot in the war. He's also having reoccurring visions of events from the Blitz, as if the past is interrupting the present. Further investigation shows that a landing strip used to exist near where Hamish had his incident. This has deadly consequences. 

From the episodes that remain, it is clear that “Dead of Night” represented an extremely British style of horror story. Namely, one that favored foreboding atmosphere over any loud shocks or visceral thrills. The chills “The Exorcism” and “A Woman Sobbing” generated existed almost entirely in the realm of implication. Both episodes created an unsettling feeling by focusing in on a protagonist's journeys. They also made the limited settings of a British television budget work for them, creating an enclosing sense of isolation. “Return Flight” is similarly low-key in its attempts at scares. This is an hour mostly devoted to people standing around in rooms and talking. There are no attacking ghosts or obviously disturbing visions. The horror of the situation does not reveal itself until the final scene, which is delivered with the same understated dryness that you expect from those Brits and their stiff-upper-lips. 

Peter Barksworth gives a good performance as Hamish, subtly conveying the complicated mixture of grief and bitterness his wife's death awoke in him. Like many an older gentlemen, he longs for his youth. In particular, he longs for a glorious wartime experience he never got to live out. The war ended right after Hamish got drafted, denying him the chance to kill Nazis or die on the battle field. It's an interesting idea but “Return Flight” is sadly too understated. We are not fully allowed into the protagonist's mind. We only get brief mentions of his absent daughter. Or of how the memory of his wife's first husband hung over their marriage. The script is mostly about other people talking about the man's history. The episode would've done better to actually show us these things. Or, at least, give us more of a peek into the lonely life the man is now living. 

Also in keeping with the style of BBC ghost stories, “Return Flight” never outright explains the circumstances of what is happening. Clearly, this is a story about the past lingering around and refusing to stay dead. This was also true of “The Exorcism” and “A Woman Sobbing,” both tales of past spirits taking control of or beckoning to the living. (From what information we have about the lost episodes, it sounds like this was true of most of “Dead of Night.”) However, those scripts married the premise to themes of class inequality or feminine isolation. “Return Flight” can't quite make the same point about boomer idealization of the golden age or the scars World War II left on London. The result is an installment where it feels like nothing much happens, delivered in such a manner as to feel dull. A little bit of tension rises in the lead-up to the final note, getting at the idea of professionals trying to stay calm and not panic as the situation begins to spiral out of control. Exactly what you would expect the feeling on an airplane about to drop out of the sky to be. “Return Flight” needed more of that. [5/10]

Friday the 13th: The Series: Hellowe'en
 

Every TV show with even a little bit of a spooky vibe about it should do at least one Halloween themed episode. “Friday the 13th: The Series” got to it pretty early, by the fifth broadcast. Ryan throws a Halloween party in the antique's shop. Micki is a little uncertain about having so many people In the building but is reassured that all the evil objects are safely kept in the vault. Jack entertains the guests before some trouble-makers sneak into the aforementioned vault of evil. They awaken a ghastly presence: The ghost of Uncle Lewis. He tricks Micki and Ryan into grabbing a pendent that makes his spirit flesh. With the assistance of a mischievous imp sidekick, Lewis or the demon impersonating him attempts to fulfill a diabolic ritual before the sun rises. 

Five episodes in was definitely too early for “Friday the 13th” to set a story within its own collection of horrific artifacts. The heroes haven't been collecting them for that long! Despite that, Curious Goods is the best location the show has and I don't blame the producers for wanting to take advantage of that. The place looks cooler yet when decked out for a Halloween party. Once again, the scenes of Jack simply vamping in a silly costume and intoning about some bullshit like Tarot or Arthurian lore is the most entertaining element of the show. A shot of a glowing crystal ball or fog billowing across the location's floor, while Jack-O-Lanterns and costumed revelers are near-by, is this show reaching “The Haunted Mansion” levels of corny Halloween vibes. I approve of that. 

Unfortunately, “Friday the 13th: The Series” does not build the entire episode around its Halloween party premise. In fact, that side of the story and most of the October 31st energy is abandoned once Uncle Lewis' ghost shows up. I like the idea of the show centering its nebulous collection of threats around a single villain. Uncle Lewis immediately turning evil after coming back as a spirit seems to run counter to his crisis of conscience in the first episode. I do enjoy R.G. Armstrong getting a chance to ham it up a bit. This is the sole credit of Victoria Deslaurier, the short actress who plays the demonic little person. She's having a good time but I always feel a little bad when a small person gets cast as some sort of fantasy creature. There are some amusing shenanigans in this one, such as when Micki almost gets cremated alive. Jack and Uncle Lewis' ghost have a chant-off at the end, which made me chuckle. I do like how the final scene builds on the lore a little – Jack was in love with Lewis' wife – and ominously points towards the impending Friday the 13th as some sort of climatic event. [6/10]

 

Halloween 2026: Halloween 10th

 

Scales (2019)
Sayyedat al-Bahr

Much like the unicorn, the mermaid is another mythological figure that has been mostly flattened by popular culture into a singular form. While most modern depictions follow Hans Christian Anderson's – or, more likely, Disney's – lead, the exact nature and appearance of mermaids differ wildly throughout global folklore. They are often conflated with the seductive and predatory Greek sirens, who were actually more like bird-maids. European stories usually have them as bad omens that foretell shipwrecks or monsters that abduct young girls. Other tales present convoluted rituals by which a landlubber can fall in love with one. Asian varieties often feature the idea of eating a mermaid's flesh making you immortal. A lot of local variations often act more like mischievous water spirits than Ariel. Half-fish, half-human gods were prominent in ancient Middle Eastern religions while several of the “One Thousand and One Nights” featured an underwater societies. I can only speculate on whether or not such stories inspired writer/director Shahad Ameen. More probably, Ameen was inspired by the plight of other women in Saudi Arabia and surrounding countries, as a burgeoning feminist movement attempts to establish itself in a conservative region. Nevertheless, her 2019 film “Scales” does represent an interesting cinematic take on fish-tailed humanoids and their relationships with people on the shore. 

“Scales” is set in the small village upon a rocky, desert-like island. As continuous droughts make it impossible to grow anything, the residents have instead found an alternative to keep themselves fed. They've worked out an agreement with the mermaids living in the surrounding waters. Once a year, the villagers provide their newborn daughters to the “sea maidens.” In return, the beings allow the land dwellers to hunt them for food. Hayat's father could not bring himself to sacrifice his daughter. Twelve years later, the other villagers resent her presence and consider her a curse upon the land. After her mother gives birth to another girl, it is demanded that Hayat give herself up to the mermaids. Instead, she drags one home and slays it in the town square. While the traditionalist men of the community are reluctant to accept Hayat aboard their fishing ships, she impresses a captain enough to be accepted on a voyage. This is the beginning of the young girl learning more about the women of the waters and herself. 

Multiple plot synopses refer to “Scales” as taking place in a post-apocalyptic world. This is only implied in the actual film, a drought lasting upwards of a decade being the main clue that something has gone wrong on a global scale. Considering the simple homes and clothing of the villagers, and that the film features no technology more advanced than a crossbow, the story could just as easily take place in medieval times as after an ecological disaster. That points to the most interesting aspect of “Scales.” The tradition the plot is built around certainly feels like something out of an old folk tale. The indeterminate time and place clearly establishes a “Once upon a time...” like far-off vagueness. At the same time, the rigidness of this culture intrigues you and pulls you in. The mermaids have seemingly always been here. No reference is made to a time before the villagers began trading their young daughters off to the sea people. You become curious about how this came about, how it functions. Which is a good hook, if you'll excuse the fishing pun.

While fairy tales take place Once Upon a Time, in a Land Far Far Away, that's not why they resonate with modern audiences. It's because their lessons can reflect any culture, any social woe of any age. “Scales” aspires to that level of universality. The film is a reflection on the constrictive social paths put in place to control women. In this village, girls have only two options: Either become mothers or become sacrifices to the mermaids, a decision made for them by men at the earliest points in their lives. Fayat's mere existence challenges this structure and it only becomes worst when she begins to seek out the role of fisherman, a professional so masculine that it literally has “man” in it. Eventually, unsurprisingly, “Scales” reveals that the roles enforced in this world extend into the ocean too. As an ignorant westerner, I can only assume that Shabad Ameen was speaking to the specific difficulties facing women in Saudi Arabia and neighboring countries. “Scales'” fairy tale metaphor for feminine repression by harsh traditions is vague enough to reflect any place in the world... But it's also pretty clearly about growing up as a girl in an conservative Islamic world. The film unsteadily walks that line, between direct commentary on current events and a more general thesis. 

This points towards maybe my main issue with “Scales.” The film only runs a little over an hour long. Long stretches are without dialogue. The film's black-and-white cinematography is often devoted to the out-stretched, desert landscape, as if the film is pondering something by gazing at the rocks and shores. There is almost no musical score at all. All of which is to say that “Scales” is an almost stereotypical pretentious art film. The tone is contemplative throughout, as if the movie is directly asking you to consider its deeper meaning. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. The cinematography is nice. In its best moments, such as when a mermaid is pulled aboard the fishing boat and seems to attack Fayat, it captures an almost dream-like tone of lyricism. The final images of the film is when it comes the closest to grabbing that appeal to the subconscious, of a Teutonic visual that could've come from a dream. However, I couldn't fight off the feeling throughout that “Scales” was a short film expanded to feature length mostly through pregnant pauses and meaningful glances. 

“Scales” was included in Severin's latest volume of its folk horror collection, suggesting that its consideration within the genre is not ambiguous. However, I am tempted to say that this is one of those borderline cases, of a movie so focused on making its point that other goals start to fade into the background. It is certainly an interesting film, if only because it is clearly a reflection of another culture and the specific challenges facing it. It's also a vague film, often frustratingly so, that seems to leave most of its more intriguing ideas in the margins. Mermaids are underutilized as a movie monster, so forgive me for hoping for more literal scales and fewer metaphorical ones here. [6/10]

Killer Tomatoes Eat France (1992)

It is, I would hope it goes without saying, wrong to reduce any country or culture down to merely a collection of broad stereotypes and then make a mockery of said stereotypes into a source of humor. The people of France are wide and varied, making countless contributions to every field imaginable. Having said all of that, the French kind of having it coming, don't you think? There's certainly a proud history in the comedy world of dunking on the French, ranging from Monty Python to Pepe LePue to a thousand other examples. While this has leaped over into nationalistic bigotry at times, it mostly just strikes me as good nature jabs. They have funny accents and they like wine, oh ho ho. Anyway, casual Francophobia is exactly the sort of middle-brow humor I would expect from the “Killer Tomatoes” series. The second film ended with a sarcastic promise that the series would continue in “Killer Tomatoes Eat France.” This finally did come to pass in 1992, the third and fourth installments seemingly being filmed back-to-back and both made for the direct-to-video market. 

Despite seemingly having perished at the jaws of his own murderous salad ingredients in the last one, “Eat France!” begins with Dr. Gangreen residing in a prison in a French fortress for his crimes. With the help of his ever-true assistant Igor and a new batch of homicidal cultivars, the villain escapes. He sets his sight on an obscure ancient prophecy. Should an extremely specific set of circumstances come to pass, including the streets of Paris running red, Louis VXII will reappear, claim the throne, and re-instate the French monarchy. Igor happens to resemble the exiled heir apparent, causing him to be central to Gangreen's ploy. Meanwhile, some guy named Miachel is backpacking through the French countryside. He meets up with a French girl named Marie, the two quickly developing a romance. Following an incident involving shoe-related royalty rituals, Michael and Marie stumble into Gangreen's scheme. All of this proceeds the nation of France being consumed by the Second Great Tomato War. 

The fourth “Killer Tomatoes” movie does rely on some easy stereotypes. Everyone in France is preoccupied with romance, or at least sex. All the women are named Marie. There's gags about eating snails, mimes, and wine. At the same time, the version of France that exists in this movie is motivated more by vaguely recalled history lessons than any genuine malice. This version of France seems torn between 18th century peasant village and gaudy modern tourist trap. The country's government operates on a shoe-based monarchy system, in a fashion centric parody of the Sword in the Stone legend. At some of the jokes in the movie seem based on stereotypes that, as far as I know, do not actually exist. Such as French beauty standards preferring huskier women or a preoccupation with castles. The film is such a willful exercise is blatant absurdity that I think even the stodgiest Frenchmen would have to work extra hard to take offense. 

Some of these jokes are more inspired than others. The running gag about excessive numbers of staircases is repeated one time too many. The film runs 94 minutes, which is definitely at least fourteen minutes longer than a motion picture like this ever needs to be. The increasingly zany last act feels more desperate the longer it goes on. Despite the dead air, “Killer Tomatoes Eat France!” made me laugh far more than the previous installment. The gags here come a little faster. There's a number of amusingly silly set-ups. F.T. is now an internationally beloved pop star. There's a random interlude done in the style of a Buster Keaton silent comedy. The killer tomatoes have now gained both faces and individual personalities. (Further following in the cartoon show's footsteps, two of the fruits are named Zoltan and Ketchuck.) This furthers the comparison I made last time, that this feels like one of those slight off-brand eighties/early 90s kid-friendly creature features. We are about half-way between “Ghouiles III” and “Pet Shop” as far as tone goes here, a comfortable place for this particular series to reside. 

Another way “Eat France!” is an improvement over “Killer Tomatoes Strike Back” is that it has considerably more amusing leads. Marc Price stars as our hero. This franchise being what it is, Price makes a fourth wall leaning joke in his first scene about the direction of his career when measured against Miachel J. Fox, his “Family Ties” co-star. While I can't comment much on Price's overall Hollywood journey – outside of “Trick or Treat,” of course – he does prove to be a likable enough comedic lead here. He delivers a few decent lines, such as the reoccurring bit about whether him and Marie are on the rocks or not. Angela Visser as Marie, doesn't exactly have the comedic timing of a Marx Brother but she somehow makes the one-note gag of her character work. The film also centers John Astin and Steve Lundquist as Gangreen and Igor more. Instead of shoving Astin in a very unfunny parody of daytime talk shows, this sequel happily lets the former Mr. Addams ham it up in his silly, theatrical way. 

Oh yeah, this one prominently features the theme song too, which is how you know it's one of the “good” ones. Granted, the standards of this comedic series are fairly low. Saying “Killer Tomatoes Eat France!” is the second best entry in the series is the fainest of praise. However, this one does a much better job of grabbing the sense of cartoonish wackiness of the visual gags with a more likable cast. With this film's release and the cancellation of the cartoon spin-off the previous year this particular ketchup bottle surely should have come up totally empty. You'd expect a series, especially one as thrown-together as these, would likely end more on a heath-hearted series of quasi-jokes rather than actually have a few laffs. But how am I suppose to dislike any movie that has a giant sized tomato man with a Phantom of the Opera gimmick, who breathes fire, and full-on vores a woman during a scene that is a probably unintentional homage to “The Creeping Terror.” In other words, a couple of laughs were had. F.T. is still cute, Astin can still ham it up, and there's enough inexplicable oddball bits here to make me chuckle. France may not be eaten but I had a a mildly good time nevertheless. [6/10]

Late Night Horror: The Corpse Can't Play

While discussing the "William and Mary" episode of "'Way Out" recently, I noted that the show's content prompted gripes from viewers. Amusingly, this is not the only time that happened. The same story was also adapted for a British anthology series. "Late Night Horror" aired on BBC2 in spring of 1968. After only six episodes, the network pulled it because of viewer complaints. "Late Night Horror" then faced the same fate as a lot of early British television: The recordings were taped over with later broadcasts or simply thrown out. The adaptation of "William and Mary" is among these missing installments. The entire series was thought lost until a black-and-white recording of the third episode, "The Corpse Can't Play," was uncovered in 2016. Just earlier this year, a print of the first episode – an adaptation of Richard Matheson's "No Such Thing as a Vampire" – was also dug up. However, only "The Corpse Cant Play" is widely available as I write these words so let's talk about it.

Our setting is the birthday party of ten year old Ronnie. After a game of musical chairs escalates into fighting, his mom retreats to the kitchen. The women are awaiting the arrival of Ronnie's father from the office. Instead, the next knock at the door is a late-comer to the party: the bespectacled Simon Potter, known around school for the recent death of his father and his overall social awkwardness. Ronnie blurts out that Simon assuredly wasn't invited but his mom insists they treat the boy like any other guest. As the adults return to the kitchen, the kids continue to play games, usually singling Simon out to bully. After Ronnie's dad arrives – having grabbed some garden tools on the way home – the kids are told to play one more game before dinner is served. Ronnie chooses the game of Murder. The lights are turned out in the house and the boy uses this as a chance to apologize to Simon for his behavior... Before shoving him into a tiny cabinet and locking the door. This has unforeseen consequences. 

The title of this episode and "Late Night Horror's" very creepy opening – a montage of an old woman's head spinning around before a monstery hand rips the skin off and reveals a skull – had me expecting some supernatural horror. The English love their ghost stories, after all. "The Corpse Can't Play" is, instead, more like a "Tales from the Crypt"-style morality play. Rather than focus on cheating spouses or conniving crooks, this story takes place in the world of children. The fourth grade lot can be as cruel as any criminal though. Simon's mere presence is treated as an intrusion by Ronnie. The kid never does anything wrong. He even brings Ronnie a gift, an expensive remote controlled car. He's excluded and teased anyway. Ronnie picks a game based around miming out the professional of each kid's father, knowing full well that Simon's is dead. He turns this into a public spectacle, laying on the floor with his arms' crossed when Simon refuses to play along. Another one of the guests mocks Simon for wearing glasses, even though he has an eye patch on. (Maybe his roughhousing resulted in an eye injury or maybe they were playing pirate earlier.) Having bad vision and a dead father are things Simon has no control over but he gets picked on for them anyway. Even Ronnie's dad seems turned off by the kid's dorkiness. He interrupts as Simon is suggesting a game and, after the boy tries to explain the convoluted rules, the dad patronizingly dismisses it as "a grand idea." 

Dad also takes the time to complement one of the little girls at the party on how pretty she is. That was probably an innocent line but it shows how the grown-ups in this story don't seem able to relate to kids on their own level. After Ronnie and Eyepatch Kid get into a scuffle, his mom simply breaks the fight up and leaves, no further discipline following. She spends most of the rest of the episode hiding in the kitchen, while her friend passionlessly assembles sandwiches. The ruckus the kids are making in the neighboring room is so loud, you can't hear the adults' dialogue at times. This is dismissed as kids merely being kids. Before turning the lights out, Mom asks Ronnie to leave the door cracked but then his dad closes it anyway. These parents seem, at best, apathetic towards their own  kids. Maybe even a little intimidated by them. The lack of any discipline is probably why Ronnie and his pals are such assholes. The pranks he plays on Simon aren't harmless tomfoolery but rather targeted cruelty. Especially in how he pretends to be friends with the boy before shoving him in a tiny closet. Someone not liking you is one thing but someone pretending to be your friend only as a pretext for more mockery is much worse, heaping a thought-out betrayal atop a rejection. 

As someone who was also a socially awkward lad that wasn't great at reading social cues, I could only relate to Simon here. With "The Corpse Can't Play" being a product of the same country that made "Apaches" and "The Finishing Line," I expected the climatic violence to be visited on one of the kids. That's not exactly what happens. Instead, the ending suggests that maybe all the other children were right to exclude Simon from their social activity. I don't like that suggestion, furthered by a deranged look into the camera being the final shot of this half-hour. I don't think it's backed up by the rest of the program either, as Ronnie is obviously the bully and Simon clearly the victim. The bloody revenge instead emerges as ironic punishment, a shitty person getting their proper comeuppance. The ending line of dialogue has a brutal sting to it, suggesting that the intended moral is less "don't invite the weird kid to your party" and more that bad behavior has bad consequences. "Late Night Horror" has some E.C. Comics style blood too. Which is pretty stiff looking but I'm not surprised television audiences were shocked by it in 1968. . The black and white print is not in the best condition, the pacing is slow, and framing is a bit awkward on the whole but "The Corpse Can't Play" still has some bite to it. [7/10]
 

 

Friday the 13th: The Series: The Inheritance
 

It's an experience horror fans of a certain age can probably relate to. You're a young monster kid. You pick up the TV Guide or see a Sci-Fi Channel promo for... What's this? “Friday the 13th: The Series?” Oh, what people will Jason kill every week, in always more sexy and exciting ways? Any excitement was quickly crushed by the discovery that Jason Voorhees was not in “Friday the 13th: The Series.” That the program had nothing to do with the long-running film series, save for the name and a producer's credit from Frank Mancuso Jr. It was Mancuso's idea to name the syndicated show after the beloved/notorious slasher franchise, a calculated move that he knew would attract more eyeballs than the original working title of “The 13th Hour.” I'm sure ol' Franky boy was also aware that the discovery of the lack of actual connections to the films would also turn off a lot of perspective viewers. And it did, at least for boyhood me. Despite that, “Friday the 13th: The Series” would gather a cult following of its own. A new “Friday the 13th” TV show is set to premiere next month and this one actually will have Jason Voorhees in it, at least a little bit. While I'm fully expecting to dislike that program, I will give it a fair chance. Which means, I suppose, I should give the old “Friday the 13th” TV show a shot too. So here we go. 

“The Inheritance” begin in the Vendredi's Antiques shop, presumably some place far away from Camp Crystal Lake. There's where Lewis Vendredi, after signing an agreement with the Devil for immortality, sells cursed items to unsuspecting customers. Mr. Simms, his young daughter Mary, and her recently acquired new stepmom Irene enter the shop. Mary is enchanted by a creepy, pale faced doll. She takes it outside, where it quickly slashes the throat of a passing motorist. Vendredi decides this is the last straw and refuses to sell the doll to the family, after which the Devil appears and claims his soul. Some time afterwards, his estranged niece Micki inherits the shop. Working with her cousin Ryan, they quickly sell any remaining stock. Including that evil doll to Mr. Simms, who gifts it to Mary. Unsurprisingly, the demonic doll begins to work its evil magic on the girl, Irene soon ending up in the hospital. A friend of Uncle Lewis, an occult expert named Jack Marshak, appears at the shop and makes Micki and Ryan aware of what exactly they've come into possession of. He convinces Micki and Ryan to track down that doll before it kills again, the first of many such enchanted objects sold from the shop that the pair will have to retrieve. 

Yes, that's the hook for “Friday the 13th: The Series.” Basically, a new evil nick-nack will threaten the lives of somebody every week, Micki and Ryan tasked will hunting it down and returning it to the vault under the antiques shop. In other words, it's going to be a different “demonic artifact” every week. As far as cursed objects go, a creepy doll is a classic one. In some ways, “The Inheritance” handles this idea decently enough. The doll looks unsettling enough, with its corpse-like pallor and the ventriloquist dummy-esque way its mouth and head moves, while still being believable as something a child might be attracted to. The little girl, an adorably toe-headed Sarah Polley in her next credit right after “Blue Monkey,” comfortably walks the line between a kid an innocent kid struggling to adapt to a new step-mom and someone in the throes of seduction by evil. By the same accord, “The Inheritance” has one or two clever ideas up its sleeve. A shot of the devil coming for Uncle Lewis' sole is proceeded by the visual of fiery foot prints appearing down a staircase. Similarly, the shot of the doll slashing the random guy's throat is surprisingly gory by eighties television standards. 

Polley's presence is not the only link to the Canadian big bug movie I just watched recently. “The Inheritance” was also directed by William Fruet, only the most obvious indicator that this was a Canadian production. Yes, this show was an eighties Canadian production, which means it's also fairly low-budget. That is evident in the moment directly after that cool shot of the devil coming down the stairs, when Uncle Lewis is pushed down an elevator shaft to Hell. That kind of cornball horror, both lacking totally in subtly but pulled off with too little flair to be campy fun, also runs throughout the episode. While the doll is kind freaky looking, its habits get less creepy as the episode goes on. The doll seems to telepathically trigger misfortune by hissing at people and things, which is silly. This climaxes with a room full of stuffed animals coming to life and making animal noises at an elderly babysitter, which is sillier yet. By far the least convincing moment is when the doll, who was previously ripping throats out like Chucky on bath salts, seems to stare a lady to death. These ridiculous moments are supported by an over enthusiastic soundtrack, of blaring jump scares. 

I'm not one to turn my nose up at some cheesy, slightly shitty old genre television. I frequently love this exact kind of nonsense. This means that “Friday the 13th: The Series” could certainly grow on me. Programs like this depend a lot on the charm of their cast. Louise Robey and Chris Wiggins, as Micki and Jack, have some okay chemistry as the cousins with differing approaches to the supernatural.  Mostly what I've noticed about Robey, who is credited only by her last name, is that she has the most 1987 hair-do I've ever seen. I kind of like the weird quasi-romantic tension they have, despite playing cousins. I was also amused by the scene of Micki's lawyer boyfriend. I hope he becomes a reoccurring character. Did you buy a demonically cursed object from Vendredi's Antiques? You may be entitled to compensation... [5/10]