Halloween 2025: September 20th

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

African Kung-Fu Nazis (2019)

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

Supernatural: Night of the Marionettes

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

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

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

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

 

The Addams Family: Ophelia Finds Romance

 

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

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

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

Halloween 2025: September 15th

 

Together (2025)

Like many nerds in the 2010s, I became a big fan of the TV series, "Community." It was a sitcom truly designed to appeal to film fanatics, often layering its episodes with references to classic movies and pop culture. That's how I got introduced to Alison Brie, whose bright blue eyes, bubbly energy, and fearless commitment to the bit quickly won me over. Brie has made a good career for herself since then, adding one other cancelled-too-soon cult favorite TV show to her resume alongside moving into screenwriting herself. In particular, her and husband Dave Franco have become a quirky power couple. They appeared together in "The Rental," Franco's directorial debut and a decent modern slasher. That interest in horror continued this year with "Together," another buzzy title from buzzy distributor NEON and the first feature from director Michael Shanks. Certainly, having an actual couple star in a movie about a couple undergoing a bizarre transformation adds an interesting layer of subtext to the entire affair. 

Millie and Tim have been together for a long time. He still hopes to become a rock star while she pursues a career as a teacher. Millie convinces Tim to move out to a small, rural neighborhood where she has a new job waiting, which conflicts with his wish to go back on tour with a band. Further adding tension to their relationship is the recent death of Tim's parents and Millie awkwardly proposing at the going-away party. After moving into the isolated home, the two go for a hike in the woods. A storm blows in and they fall into an underground cavern, home to a strange pool of water and distinctive bells. They drink from the spring and, the next morning, awaken to find a sticky membrane connecting their legs. This proceeds more bizarre behavior from Tim, who begins to feel a magnetic pull towards his girlfriend. Millie starts to be physically, uncontrollably drawn to him as well. Answers to the bizarre condition are revealed as the bickering couple begin to physically, painfully merge with one another. 

I don't think anyone uses the term "elevated horror" seriously anymore, if they ever did. Nevertheless, people are still making horror movies defined less by a narrative hook or distinctive special effects and more about ideas. "Together" is not a horror movie in which the supernatural threat points towards subtext about the anxieties and pressures of being in a long-term relationship. It is a movie about the anxieties and pressures of being in a long-term relationship, with the supernatural threat operating as a literalized metaphor for those concerns. After the effects of the strange water take hold, Tim finds it physically painful to be away from his girlfriend. Her movements, no matter how far away she is, direct his own. He has nightmares where she recognizes the he resents her success. She, similarly, is tired of sacrificing her life so he can continue to pursue an adolescent pipe dream and is fed up with his stereotypically masculine fear of commitment. The two seem on the verge of breaking up, the petty annoyances and common disagreements of living with someone having ossified into deeply seated issues. At the same time, they've been a couple for so long that, at this point, it's difficult to imagine their lives without each other. Are they both too old to start over now? Will their lives collapse without the daily presence and reassurance of knowing someone is there for them? A repeated line in "Together" is "It'll be easier to split now than to do it later." This is repeated as a more visceral statement after Tim and Millie's bone and sinew begin to intertwine but remains the thesis statement of the film. Once you link yourself to another person, do you cease to be an independent being? Do you want to be? Is it too late to go back? If you can't make it work with this person, are you stuck with them forever? And so on.

A lot of modern indie horror flicks think of a thematic premise like that and have little else to offer, filling the meat of the movie with meandering ambiance and whispering characters. Michael Shanks' script is a little shapeless. The attempt to justify what is happening here eventually bends, somewhat inorganically, towards two cliches of "elevated" horror: Weirdo pagan cults and grainy video footage. However, Shanks is actually interested in and good at the horror stuff. Germain McMicking's cinematography includes a lot of striking visuals, like warped reflections in a glass door or drone shots of the couple moving in step with each other. Sean Lahiff's editing is strong, the cuts precise to establish the causal relations between events. The sound design is especially eerie, with lots of off-screen banging or distant ringing helping to build tension. While the film's set pieces sometimes feel a little disconnected, they are effectively creepy. Tim's monologue about uncovering his parents' final fate – which has sad parallels to the recent passing of Gene Hackman – ends on a nicely unsettling image. A nightmare, in which cave walls begin to pulse and wheeze like a blocked esophagus, suitably recalls the feeling of having a panic attack.  A freaky, slimy, latex monster does show up eventually too. 

All of which is aside from "Together's" main attraction and what truly separates it from all the A24-a-likes out there. Distorted flesh, crackling bones, twisting limbs, and ripping skin are, when done well, a guaranteed way to make audiences wince.  "Together" has that in spades. Tim and Millie forced to rip their legs, connected by a sticky joint scab, apart made me cringe a bit. This proceeds some elaborate contortions of the human form, the bodies dragged and pulled towards each other magnetically. Fingers wiggle under skin,  shoulder blades mold like wet clay, hair is shoved into places hair shouldn't go. The most graphic moment occurs when Tim and Millie become unable to de-couple after physically rekindling their passion, a moment that operates half-way between painful body horror and sick comedy. "Together" is actually a lot funnier than I expected, getting some dark laughs out of its nightmarishly absurd set-up. That willingness to understand how these events are fucked-up in a sick way and an amusing way is evident in the film actually having the balls to use a particular needle drop during its climatic showcase of twisted bodies. (A moment otherwise undermined by some mediocre CGI.)

Despite mining some humor from its implausible events, "Together" is not an insincere story. It takes the relationship at the center of the story seriously. Yes, there are long simmering tensions between Tim and Millie. They backbite and argue and brood in silence with each other. They also flirt, laugh, kiss and touch, and talk with the kind of warm familiarity evident in couples that have been together for years. There's no doubt that the very real chemistry between Franco and Brie goes a long way towards making the audience invested in these two. Both are excellent, funny and goofy when the material is relaxed, filled with the proper amount of fear and pain when shit gets crazy. We've seen Dave Franco's frizzy haired, adorable man-child act before. Alison Brie usually plays glowing balls of perkiness hiding larger insecurities. There's a case to be made for actors playing to type though and it works here. The issues pushing them apart are understandable, not contrived, and it's apparent that these two really do care about each other. The emotional climax of the story – loving someone enough to let them go, giving up everything for your partner,  needing a person like you need oxygen – got to me. This kind of shit hits a lot harder when you've got a special someone in your life, let me tell ya.

As for whether "Together" reflects in any way on Franco and Brie's actual relationship, we can do nothing but speculate. They seem pretty happy to me. One would imagine that a couple would have to be very self-aware and fairly confident in their love if they would be willing to star in a movie like this. They've been doing projects like this that play with the boundaries of being a couple in the public eye for years now. Maybe this is just part of how they do it. Either way, "Together" has enough freaky body horror in it to hook people like me who long for the days of "Society" and "Videodrome." Michael Shanks clearly has some chops in telling stories like this, mixing horror, romance, and comedy despite the film faltering a bit once it tries to apply some sort of logic into its dream-like set-up. [7/10]

 

The Black Cat (1981)
Gatto nero

 

Despite being as American as apple pie and lax gun control laws, Edgar Allan Poe's writing is beloved overseas. The Italians, in particular, seem fond of Baltimore's greatest scribe of the macabre. Perhaps ol' Eddie P.'s mixture of the psychological, the surreal, the gothic, and the grisly appeals to that operatic sensibility. For whatever reason, some of the most widely known Italian horror directors seemed especially attracted to "The Black Cat," Poe's 1843 story of alcoholism, animal abuse, and a guilty conscience. Sergio Martino would steal Poe's climax for his 1972 giallo "Your Vice is a Locked Door and Only I Have the Key." Dario Argento devoted his half of 1990's two-part anthology "Two Evil Eyes" to a take on the story. The same year, Dario's old buddy Luigi Cozzi would steal the title for a witchy schlock-fest. Most prominently, in-between two of his apocalyptic zombie movies, Lucio Fulci would try his hand at "The Black Cat." 

The opening credits clarify that the film is "freely based" on Poe's story. This is an admission that, like most movies bearing this title, it has little to do with the original text. Fulci's "Black Cat" is set in a small English town, especially known for its old cemeteries and underground tombs. Photographer Jill arrives to snap pictures of the graves. This is how she meets Professor Robert Miles, a supposed medium. Miles owns a hateful, violent black cat but claims he can't get rid of it. At the same time, bizarre accidental deaths begin to plague the town. Inspector Gorley from Scotland Yard investigates and soon calls on Jill to operate as a make-shift crime scene photographer. Both become increasingly convinced that Miles' cat is somehow responsible for the deaths. This is the truth and the doctor attempts to stop the feline's supernatural murder spree himself but this is no mere pussycat. 

The supernatural horror films Fulci made in the eighties all follow very similar set-ups. Almost all of them center around a person, animal, or object that triggers a free-wheeling curse that enacts increasingly grisly deaths upon the group of people unlucky enough to be near-by. (Sometimes with zombies.) The ghostly priest in "City of the Living Dead," the tome of eldritch knowledge in "The Beyond," an ancient amulet in "Manhattan Baby," and the comatose teen of "Aenigma" are joined here by the titular nero gatto. Which is to say that Fulci's "Black Cat" has screenplay largely composed of shit just happening. We are introduced to a group of people living or visiting the same town – the photographer, the Scotland Yard investigator, a pair of horny teens, one of their hysterical mothers, a town drunk – who all fall, one by one, to the improbable accidents the cat causes. All the subplots tumble around each other, each largely meaningless ways to waste time until the feline killer must kill again. Why the cat is evil, where it gets its powers, how this connects with Professor Miles' research into spiritualism or the town's history of death are never addressed. 

In other words, Fulci's “Black Cat” is an exercise in grand guignol. In an almost literal sense. Like the plays shown in that infamous French theatre, the film is a collection of short scenarios that depict horrible things happening to people through crude but grisly special effects, in service of a bleak worldview. This is set up before the opening credits roll, as the stare of the cat wills a guy to crash his car, his head gorily smashing through the windshield. That is accomplished via the use of a clearly fake dummy. That same technique is utilized when the cat sets a house ablaze. We see a mannequin mechanically flail its arms around as it burns, inter-cut with close-ups on the melting face of a wax dummy in the shape of Dagmar Lassander. This isn't to say that the bloody set pieces of “The Black Cat” aren't occasionally cringe inducing. The best sequence involves the drunkard dangling from a post in a barn, the cat slicing at his hands until he falls upon some upturned spikes. However, the unconvincing special effects and frequently implausible details of the death scenes – such as the cat locking the love-making teens into a sweltering shed after turning off the air conditioning – are likelier to produce chuckles than shrieks. 

“The Black Cat” is, in a lot of ways, a good encapsulation of everything good and bad about Fulci's style. The murder scenes are gratuitous and goofy. The visual direction is sometimes campy, with numerous tacky crash-zooms. The dubbing is distracting, star Patrick Magee's distinctive natural voice covered by someone doing a middling Boris Karloff impersonation. At the same time, as vulgarian and camp as the film can be, it is also capable of a suitably chilling ambiance. The shots of cemeteries or back allies bathed in fog, the actors creeping around in the darkness, provide the exactly called for feeling. The shots of the titular beast glaring from an obscure corner, growling softly, effectively make the kitty cat a threatening force. Pino Donaggio provides a score that recalls his work on “Carrie” while also suggesting the casually cruel, free-spirited attitude of a cat and the small town setting. Yeah, there is a lot about this one that does work, almost as much as doesn't. 

What truly makes “The Black Cat” interesting to me is how it interacts with the usual trademarks of Fulci's work. I've commented before that I feel there is a genuine mean-spirited sense of misanthropy often emanating from Fulci's eighties work. His movies depict cruel worlds where everyone exists merely to die, usually in excessively gruesome and senseless ways, where the only certainty is the ever-enclosing folds of darkness and destruction. What made that especially uncomfortable is that it all felt so personal for Fulci. As if he was working through his own anger with these images. All the death and mayhem in “The Black Cat” comes from the fuzzy feline. The cat shares some sort of connection with Professor Miles. As it becomes clear his pet is pure evil, Miles attempts to destroy the cat, via the strangulation from Poe's story. However, it doesn't work. In the end, he admits that the cat is a psychic conduit for the hatred he feels towards everyone in the town. The doctor has subconsciously transferred his own resentment and bitterness into the cat. He tries to deny this enmity is a part of himself, expelling it by betraying the cat, but he ultimately must admit that these feelings of hate reside in his soul. If my interpretation of Fulci's work is correct – his horror films acting as release valves for his most sadistic desires – than “The Black Cat” is all but an admission of this. Assuming we can take the moody, withdrawn, and mysterious Patrick Magee as an intended author avatar for a director sometimes described as much the same. 

That self-reflective quality makes “The Black Cat” a little more interesting to me than the director's more acclaimed work. “The Beyond” and “City of the Living Dead” have more realistically depicted gross-out moments and stronger senses of foreboding atmosphere. However, I've always been a little put-off by the hopelessness they presented. “The Black Cat” acknowledges that this is all one guy's hang-ups, projected via an especially nasty and magical little critter. His gialli remain more self-assured, in my opinion. Those work better for me, as they attempt to ground themselves a little more other than going buck wild the whole time. Still, perhaps I am slowly coming around on Fulci's style. “The Black Cat” is grimy, dumb-ass nonsense that is also a weirdly effective exploration of the shadows of the mind. [6/10]

Beasts: The Dummy

After six years, I have arrived at the final episode of "Beasts," Nigel Kneale's overall excellent anthology on the theme of beastly horror. The last installment to air was "The Dummy." The title refers to the star creature of a long running series of horror films, who is neither man, beast, plant, nor mineral but an amalgamation of all four. Clyde Boyd has been the man sweltering inside the cumbersome Dummy suit since the beginning. A reporter is on-set during the production of the sixth entry in the franchise, "Jaws of the Dummy." Clyde is having trouble nailing a shot because he's got something else on his mind. His career is in shambles, as playing the faceless monster is the only thing he's known for, and he feels as if he's losing his sense of identity. His wife has recently deserted him, taking their daughter with her. Worst yet, the man she left him for is Sidney Stewart, the human star of the new film. And he's a bullying asshole. The producer convinces Clyde to go ahead with production, despite his fragile emotional state. That is when something inside the man snaps and he ceases to be an actor playing a part. He becomes the Dummy, a real monster rampaging through the studio and attacking all in his path. 

The most recurrent theme in Nigel Kneale's work has been finding the link between the mythic and the modern. In Kneale's films and TV shows, the monsters of the past are not dead but are understood to be something else in the modern, scientific world. The on-set reporter in "The Dummy" is a curious sort. She makes an observation that, in African tribal folk magik, a mask is not merely a disguise or costume. Within the ritual space of the ceremony, the observers understand that the witch doctor is assuming the role of an otherworldly spirit while also believing that spirit to be real. The barrier between play and reality, dreaming and waking, ceases to exist. "The Dummy" contextualizes a film set as the modern extension of these ancient rites. Within the confines of the camera, and the movie houses the images will eventually be projected in, these images are real. The dream is alive and unspooling at 24 frames per second before us. This is why Clyde becomes the role he is playing, the barrier between the real and the imaginary blurring. This is further emphasized in a moment when the attacking Dummy knocks a bucket of stage blood over while very sincerely attacking someone. In that moment, the difference between what's fake and what's real might as well not exist. 

It's a fascinating idea but one that perhaps could be explored more within this hour. In many ways, "The Dummy" is the most straightforward episode of "Beasts." You could see this as a fairly standard story of an actor going nuts, attacking the other actors, and wrecking the sets. I can't help but wonder if Kneale wasn't very knowingly working within the limits of seventies British television here. If the monster is supposed to be an actor in a crappy looking suit, then the audience will not have any illusions shattered when it's literally an actor in a crappy looking suit. Indeed, the Dummy is quite silly looking, resembling what the "Prophecy" bear might look like if it was assembled for a community theater production. The sequences of Clyde in the suit, smashing through a thin tomb set or knocking over a cardboard tombstone, are far likelier to produce chuckles than gasps. It's evident, from what we see here, that "The Dummy" movies are meant to be kind of like a Hammer horror flick with a monster out of a Toho production. (Indeed, Clyde being badgered into continuing the day's shooting, despite clearly being in no state to work, brings to mind how Christopher Lee was emotionally blackmailed into making more "Dracula" movies.) But Hammer and Toho, even on their worst days, had better production values than this. 

Despite the silly looking threat, "Beasts" was never less than excellently executed. The sequence where Clyde stops acting and begins actually choking his co-star to death is effectively tense. The tight interiors of the film studio make for some intense attack sequences. The contrast between the petty egos of the cast – one actor complaining that they need to wrap up his scenes tonight, unaware that a man is genuinely dead – provide some intentional laughs. There's far more pathos though. Bernard Horsfall gives a weeping, shuddering performance as Clyde, truly coming across as a man at the end of his rope. A good chunk of the episode is devoted to the producer, Clive Swift at his most glad handing and insincere, convincing the actor to stick it out for one more day. You could definitely read "The Dummy" as a criticism of the entertainment industry, that churns out a banal product with little regard for the people left behind. It also functions simply as a compelling story, as Clyde's torment is both concerning and touching. Sidney Stewart is exactly the kind of asshole you can't wait to see get his just desserts, willfully refusing to leave the film simply so he can continue to torment his already beaten romantic rival. "The Dummy" isn't as unsettling as "During Barty's Party" or "Baby," nor does it hit as hard as "Special Offer," "Buddyboy," or "What Big Eyes." It is still a fascinating, keenly performed piece of horror television, rich with ideas and extremely easy to watch. [7/10]

The Addams Family: Morticia's Dilemma

A letter from Spain heralds the arrival of an old family friend to the Addams, the prestigious Don Xavier Francisco de la Mancha Molinas. As a lad, Gomez and the Don's daughter, Consuella, were playmates. In fact, it seems to have slipped Grandmama's mind that, at some point, Consuella was promised to Gomez as his bride. When he attempts to explain that he has a wife, the old man mishears them and believes Morticia is Gomez' sister. The misunderstanding escalates, once Consuella tells Morticia that she intends to marry Gomez. From there, an unfortunate eavesdropping on a conversation between the two men leads Morticia to believe that her husband has a whole harem of women all around the world. Heartbroken, Morticia debates murdering her spouse before the confusion is revealed. At which point the Don, having been insulted by his daughter being turned down, insists on challenging Gomez to a duel. 

More recent “Addams Family” adaptations tend to emphasize that Gomez has Spanish heritage, the character being played by Latino actors in the most recent iterations. “Morticia's Dilemma” reveals this as an ingrained part of “Addams Family” lore. Grandmama refers to Spain as “the old country,” which certainly suggests Gomez' side of the family has roots there. I doubt this was a deliberate depiction of a mixed race couple on 1960s television – not that this was without precedent – so much as another indication that the wide and bizarre Addams' family tree has branches all over the place. Nevertheless, “Morticia's Dilemma” is an episode featuring heavy Spanish accents, mariachi shirts, flamenco dancing, and a running gag involving the word “si.” The Spanish characters are definitely tokenized, defined solely by their nationality, which is used as the set-up for multiple jokes. However, the Don and his daughter are never depicted in a negative light, so this might actually be one of the better depictions of non-WASP heritage in sixties television.

As for the episode itself, it's not without its moments. I'm not a big fan of an entire plot being spun out of a simple misunderstanding. I find it unlikely that, upon hearing Gomez say he has “a girl” in multiple countries, that Morticia wouldn't realize he was talking about business contacts. If she was confused, I imagined she would simply ask him about it. At least the Don has the excuse of being hard-of-hearing, which does lead to a fantastic joke in the latter half once the dueling gets underway. If we are to assume that Morticia is mislead into believing this – and that whatever alternative life styles she obviously practices with her husband doesn't preclude monogamy – it does set-up some mildly amusing jokes. Cousin Itt's suggestions of methods of murder consistently got me to laugh. As did Morticia's unenthused reaction to Consuella's presence. Overall though, this one needed more bull whipping and impromptu guitar solos, fewer cultural stereotypes and the implication that my TV Mom and Dad are mad at each other. [6/10]

Halloween 2025: September 13th

 

Predator: Killer of Killers (2025)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

Perfect Strangers (1984)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

The Addams Family: Gomez the Cat Burglar

 

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

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

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