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]

Halloween 2024: October 1st

Baskin (2015)

I'm, by no means, a religious man. In my experience, karmic retribution rarely exist. However, I do find it interesting that the majority of cultures here on planet Earth have some conception of the idea of Hell. Judeo-Christian, Buddhist, Hindu, Islamic, Zoroastrianism, the ancient Greeks: All are united by the idea that, if you misbehave in life, you will go to a place of infernal suffering and torment in the afterlife. Maybe this is simply the human mind applying its version of logic onto a chaotic universe. That those that evade justice in life will face punishment afterwards, that kings and beggars will all be judged equally. That's an appealing thought on every continent. The superstitious part of my brain, however, has trouble dismissing the coincidence of people and cultures, never interacting and separated by vast distances, all coming to the same conclusion. Maybe Jung was on to something with all that collective unconscious talk... Or maybe Hell does exist. Either way, eternal damnation has inspired cinematic visions all around the world. One example came out of Türkiye in 2015, when filmmaker Can Evrenol expanded his short "Baskin" into a feature film. My exposure to Turkish cinema doesn't extend past a few Cüneyt Arkın movies so I figured this would be as good a place as any to start with Turkish horror. 

As a young boy, Arda had haunting dreams, the spirits of his friends and parents visiting him shortly after their deaths. He was adopted by "Boss" Remzi, a police officer who raised Arda to become a cop too. As an adult, Arda is the most timid member of a group of rowdy, boisterous officers. After eating at a restaurant, where the bawdiest cop gets into a fight with a waiter, back-up is called for in the Inceagac region, home to many strange legends. The driver of the police van sees someone in the road, striking them before driving off a bridge. The cops drag themselves out of the river and continue on food, coming to an abandoned police station from the Ottoman era. Inside, they discover a strange, demonic cult seemingly trying to manifest Hell here on Earth. Arda and Remzi, who have both seen ghosts their whole lives, capture the attention of the deprived leader of the gruesome gang. 

Speaking as a seasoned horror viewer, it's rare to see a film that strikes me as genuinely twisted, where it feels as if the filmmakers is truly capturing something forbidden on-screen. This is especially important when attempting to put visions of Hell on-camera. The best examples – "Jacob's Ladder," "Mad God," "Hellraiser" – tap into that feeling without going over into childish posturing. "Baskin" can now join this exclusive club. The slower first act goes a long way towards building a foreboding atmosphere. The visuals are bathed in neon blues and glowing oranges, as if the flames of damnation and the frost of the Ninth Circle are never far away. Earlier scenes summon slimy, unpleasant tactile sensations by highlighting raw meat, steaming buckets full of frogs, or oozing black blood. Once the cops arrive at the shadowy, abandoned building – as classical a setting for a horror story as you could find – all Hell literally breaks loose. "Baskin" is impressively committed to the grotesque. Bloody, shrieking, half-humanoid figures wearing tattered, soiled garments perform half-glimpsed acts of apparent cannibalism and torture. There's a definite sense of sexual sadism throughout, that whatever hideous actions are going on here, these figures are clearly getting off on it. These monsters don't merely seek to hurt you, they wish to violate you as well. The location feels like a sex dungeon, a regular dungeon, a butcher shop, and an altar, capturing a fittingly hellish feeling. The special effects team must be commended for creating effectively gooey and grimy spouts of blood, viscera, and bodily mutilation on a clearly limited budget. Instead of aiming for simple gross-outs, the movie is aiming for a mean-spirited, uncomfortable tone and that is far more bracing. 

"Baskin" isn't effective only because it tosses some fucked-up gore around while replicating an ambiance of depravity. All throughout, the script makes references to dreams. We often get peeks into Arda's visions, the most effective of which occurs after the car crash when he's plucked out of the water by a giant pair of hands. The entire last third of the film involves the leader of the cult – played by an actor with very distinctive facial features – enacting an elaborate sacrifice with the captured men. All the while, he makes vague statements about the nature of Hell and the purpose of his actions. The film never gives us a complete idea of what is going on here. We know as much as the characters do, who have stumbled into the middle of an otherworldly ritual. When combined with the emphasis on dreams – which eventually comes together in the last act – "Baskin" does a good job of invoking an atmosphere of cosmic horror. Something with implications beyond our understanding is going on here. We are only getting a small glimpse at a far bigger picture, one that we wouldn't be able to grasp even if we did see all of it. The cult's leader's body is tattooed with key holes and locks, pairing with him making references to opening the door. This moves the idea of Hell away from something karmic and religious into the realm of the metaphysical. Hell being a place that coexists alongside our own world, accessible through dreams and rituals, is a lot scarier to me than it being the bad place bad people go to when they die. Perhaps we are all mere pawns in a vast cosmic plan that we have to jab our own eyes out to get a fleeting look at. 

While "Baskin" does have a somewhat Lovecraftian approach to its demonic torments, a decipherable moral is present here. From the minute we meet the gang of cops, they are having vulgar conversations about sex and picking fights with random people. While travelling in the van, they sing songs together that emphasize what bad-asses they are. Naturally, all of this proceeds them suffering often ironic tortures. The biggest, toughest guy – the gutsiest, you could say – is disemboweled. The sleazy weasel who brags about picking up hookers is forced into a humiliating sexual ritual. The lesson is clear: Your macho, dude-bro police fraternity bullshit won't protect you in Hell. Remzi's fatherly role towards Arda is clearly the least toxic example of this brotherhood. However, it seems the older man has somehow invited this damned scenario on his men. The bitterly ironic ending is as downbeat as you'd expect. I don't know anything about the political situation in Türkiye. It's entirely possible "Baskin" is making specific cultural references that go over my ignorant American head. But I'm betting ACAB is a universal statement. At the very least, Evrenol's film has the thesis that braggadocious, aggressive masculinity doesn't lead to any place good. It further pushes the film into the realm of cosmic horror, the thought that our earthly institutions, power structures, and brotherhoods are worthless in the face of an unknowable universe. 

In other words, "Baskin" is fuckin' brutal, man. It presents a distressing image of otherworldly horror, with enough creativity to be unpredictable and enough messed-up cruelty to unnerve. While the synth soundtrack and lighting gives the impression of one of the many eighties throwbacks the horror scene is littered with, "Baskin" combines its influences into something clever and original. Can Evrenol has made a few more films since this one and I'll have to see if I can track those down too. "Baskin" plays like a splatterpunk short story put to film and, if that description isn't off-putting to you, than it's probably the kind of crazy shit you'll enjoy too. Only somewhat indistinct characters and a slightly repetitive last act keep this from being a perfectly grim expedition into perdition. [8/10] 

Special Effects (1984)

One of the first things you hear when you start writing is "Write what you know." The same adage applies to filmmaking, which is why there are so many movies about making movies. The horror genre is no different and the contrast between gruesome things happening on stage and gruesome things happening in reality has existed since the medium's inception. This was surely one source of inspiration for Larry Cohen when conceiving of 1984's "Special Effects." The film tosses the persistent itch that movie violence and real violence have some link into a blender with a number of other ingredients: The spectacular flame-outs beloved seventies auteurs Michael Cimino and Peter Bogdanovich suffered early in the decade; the grisly murder of Dorothy Straton and subsequent film adaptation of it; classic Hitcockian tropes and, presumably, Brian DePalma bringing them into the neon-tinged, cocaine dusted decade. Released a month after the similarly themed "Body Double," "Special Effects" remains largely overlooked within Cohen's career. 

Following an enormous box office flop, director Christopher Neville has been kicked off his latest film. He returns in shame to New York, passing the time covertly filming people having sex at the wild parties he throws. Andrea is a teenage mother who has fled her small town life for dreams of stardom. She's currently stripping in the big city. That's where her husband and father of her child, Keefe, tracks her down. After an argument, Andrea runs away from Keefe to Neville's place. When she discovers Neville is recording their intimate encounter, he snaps and strangles her to death on-camera. The disgraced filmmaker concocts an elaborate stunt to frame the girl's husband for the murder and resurrect his career. He's going to make a low budget movie about the killing, starring Keefe as himself, as the investigation is unfolding. The team tracks down Elaine Bernstein, a woman who looks a lot like Andrea, further complicating the situation. Especially when Neville starts to kill again...

When Andrea first meets Neville, he's watching a recording of Lee Harvey Oswald's murder by Jack Ruby on a loop. The director observes that actual violence, when recorded, feels less real than elaborately staged fictional violence. This is a known phenomenon. Humans spend so much of our lives looking at screens, watching engineered events, that objective reality seems less real in comparison sometimes. "Special Effects'" premise is all about the blurring of reality and movies. Neville is making a movie about his own crime, starring his victim's actual husband, as part of a scheme to frame the guy for the murder he committed. The villainous director is using fiction to rewrite reality. It's a preposterous premise but a potent one, because the allure of the big screen truly is that powerful. Keefe is no actor, nor is Andrea's lookalike Elaine. Yet who can resist the offer to become a movie star? Similarly, the smart-ass detective investigating the crime is easily duped by Neville simply by the promise of being directly involved with filmmaking. The best moments in "Special Effects" are the ones that leave the viewer uncertain about what level of reality the movie is operating on. After Andrea's death, a title card appears. The absurdly Hollywood-style ending seems improbable, followed by someone other than Larry Cohen being credited in the actual credits. At what point within "Special Effects" are we watching Larry Cohen's movie and at what point are we watching Christopher Neville's movie? 

This swirl of fake-real and fake-fake events is the strongest idea "Special Effects" has. It is present in a number of key scenes. Such as when Keefe shows Andrea a home movie of their kid or when the director records the reenactment of the love/murder scene that kicks off the plot. Unfortunately, "Special Effects" can never quite cohere these intriguing ideas into a focused whole. The script never decides who its protagonist is. Andrea is the focus of the first half, before the "Psycho" switch of Christopher Neville, the murderous villain, seeming to slip into the main role. However, Keefe and Elaine are presumably the story's heroes and much of the narrative follows them as well. Leaping back and forth between these four prevents any of them from becoming clearly defined characters. Both Keefe and Elaine seem pushed along by the plot, not the other way around, leading to a movie that gets more muddled as it winds down towards a frenzied last act. 

That "Special Effects" ultimately feels rushed and half-formed is a shame. As you'd expect, Larry Cohen packs the movie full of color and style. This was an early starring role for Eric Bogosian, who strikes an ideal balance between sleazy and charming as the homicidal director. Kevin O'Conner is also extremely memorable as the hard boiled cop on Keefe's tail, who gets swept up in the movie business. Cohen's script is full of the memorably gritty dialogue you expect of his work, these two getting the best lines. "Ms. .45's" Zoe Lund stars as Andrea and Elaine. Her voice is dubbed in the earlier scene, creating a weird disconnect between Lund and the audience. She is more convincing in her second role. Unfortunately, Brad Rijn never makes Keefe seem like a real person, with his ridiculous cornpone accent. However, "Special Effects" almost subsists on style alone. Neville's apartment is an impressive set, with its rose-filled stain glass windows, mirrored hallways, and backlit jacuzzi. A sequence where Neville garrotes an editor with a reel of film is when "Special Effects" comes the closest to capturing a giallo-like level of sleazy intensity. The movie needed more moments like that, as the neon-drenched visuals and copious nudity calls out to be paired with more gratuitous bloodshed.

I'm usually a proponent of a cheesy synth soundtrack, especially in a sweaty eighties thriller like this. However, "Special Effects" has a soundtrack that clicks, chirps, bloops, and hums over every scene to the point of distraction. When combined with a script that never quite builds up to the fever pitch it's clearly aiming for, "Special Effects" proves to be a frustrating watch. However, it is an interesting failure that contains a number of intriguing ideas, some strong performances and fun dialogue, and a few stand-out scenes. This is probably a case of Larry Cohen forging ahead with not enough time and money, as he always did, to fully realize what he was going for. It's not an undiscovered pulp gem like "The Ambulance" was. However, "Special Effects" still distinctively belongs to its filmmaker. [6/10]

The Twilight Zone (1985): Button, Button

Aside from Rod Serling himself, the writer most associated with "The Twilight Zone" is probably Richard Matheson. This connection would continue with the 1985 revival of the program, with the episode "Button, Button." The segment concerns Norma and Arthur Lewis, an unhappy and financially struggling couple. One day, an unexpected package appears on their apartment stoop. Inside is a plain wooden box, topped with a red button contained within a glass dome. The next day, a man calling himself Mr. Stewart arrives. He informs Norma about what the device does: If the button is pressed, the couple shall receive 200,000 dollars in untaxed cash. Simultaneously, someone they don't know shall die. The Lewises debate the ethics of such a proposition, Arthur being against it but Norma weighing the options. She ultimately does press the button, Mr. Stewart returning the next day with the promised money and a stipulation he didn't mention the first time. 

Matheson wrote the script for "Button, Button" under the pseudonym "Logan Swanson," suggesting he wasn't pleased with the finished product. The episode still follows the rule of economy in storytelling that makes so much of Matheson's work linger in the mind. Within the opening minutes of "Button, Button," we've learned everything we need to know about these people. Lewis works unsuccessfully on the family car, Norma forced to walk from the store to their dingy, cramped apartment. Arthur stutters, establishing a scattered focus, while Norma chain-smokes and gripes, suggesting the frustration she feels with her husband and this life. Little details throughout the episode, like the mindless chatter of a TV or the grease caked under Arthur's fingernails, reveals so much about these people and their world. They are struggling, they are deeply unhappy, they are hungry for solutions to their problems.

The obvious-on-its-face simplicity of this set-up is evident in how catchy the premise of this story is. "Button Button" essentially asks you the same question it asks of its characters: Well, would you press it? The exact nature of the experiment remains unexplained. Mr. Stewart's black-suited presentation, fedora included, suggests an extra-governmental agent. His particular method of speech – he calls what is an empty and simply adorned box a "button unit" – feels extraterrestrial. (Both of these elements bringing the Men in Black of ufology lore to mind.) The bargain he offers, meanwhile, is purely Luciferin. Norma is repeatedly informed that the person who will die from her pressing the button will be someone she doesn't know, seemingly freeing her from personal responsibility. She argues that people die every day, while Arthur counters that every death means something to someone. The (rather evident in advance) twist shows Matheson's opinion on the matter: No action occurs without an equal, opposite reaction. Everything we do has consequences. You should always make every choice with a careful consideration of the effect of your actions. Still, it remains a tempting offer that can't help but give you pause. Yeah, I'd like 200,000 dollars in pure cash dropped into my lap too. It would help a lot. Is the far off effect of this action worth it? One wonders. 

The philosophical subtext of the premise is rich. Is "Button, Button" a depiction of life in a country where every gain a person makes comes at the expense of someone else? Is it a fable-like expression of how everyone makes a cage of their own actions, how our fates are decided by what we do? (Matheson's story, with its very different ending, states the tale is about how possible it is to truly "know" anybody.) The range of the narrative is hampered somewhat by the mannered presentation. The performances are exaggerated. Mare Winngham constantly sneers from under her flint-like eyebrows and bangs. Brad Davis is similarly overdone, with his twitches and gestures. The musical score is ponderous, emphasizing every moment with an overdone theatrical note. Despite that, "Button, Button" still works. Peter Medak directs with a sinister hand, bathing Stewart in shadows and presenting the objects of the scenario from dramatic angles. As melodramatic as the parts are, the whole remains compelling. It's no wonder that Richard Kelly would expand the story into a feature twenty-three years later, though "The Box" would miss the very important need to keep things simple and junk up the premise with Kelly's trademark convoluted bullshit. Stick with "The Twilight Zone" version. [7/10]

The Addams Family: Amnesia in the Addams Family

That stock sitcom plot of easily-achieved memory loss is riffed on during "Amnesia in the Addams Family." After signing a million dollar insurance policy on his life for Morticia, Gomez conks himself on the head while exercising with his "Indian clubs." The Addams patriarch then experiences amnesia, not knowing who he is or recognizing his family. Moreover, Gomez is now disgusted and frightened by the habits of his family and their unusual style. After the condition doesn't improve on its own – Morticia and everyone else having to tolerate behavior that is quite distressing from Gomez – the family becomes more proactive. They decide another blow to the skull will reverse things, though every member of the family makes this decision without informing each other. Shenanigans ensue. 

The idea of someone getting hit on the noggin and forgetting everything, only to have their memory restored by a similar bonk, is such a well-worn premise. I think nearly every sitcom has at least commented on this so-called "Easy Amnesia." "Amnesia in the Addams Family" has me considering the ramifications of such an idea though. A simple whack to the forehead doesn't simply cause Gomez Addams to forget everything. His entire personality changes. He finds Morticia's black dress unpleasant, isn't entranced by her foreign language pet names for him. The sight of Lurch horrifies him, as does the unique ways the Addams relax and play. He's now focused on business and traditionally pleasing aesthetics. This suggests that our personalities aren't innate. That we are cumulations of our life experiences, not "born that way." Moreover, the idea presented is that there is a default setting in the human brain, a reset switch that only takes a strong enough jostle to flip, and that the Addams' way of life goes against it as much as possible. Which really makes you wonder what happened to Gomez and everyone else in the household to make them the way they are. Not to mention challenging the subversive assertion that normalcy is what we make it that seemingly the entire series is built on. 

Of course, "The Addams Family" is a wacky sitcom. It's not built to handle weighty topics like this nor does it pretend to. Instead, the token "Amnesia" episode stretches the set-up for as much comedy as it can. Gomez becoming "normal" places the show's main character in the role of the usual guest star, someone who is freaked out by the ooky attributes around him. This is a much better joke than the usual formula, if only because it plays off the strengths of the cast and the interactions between them. Lurch's confusion question of "From a cow?" when Gomez asks for a glass of milk or Wednesday's deadpan reaction when her dad says he'll get her a cute doll are hilarious. The repeated sequences of different people hitting Gomez on the head, his personality jumping back and forth between the two modes, pushes the absurdity to higher, cartoonier levels. That comedic escalation continues right into the finale and last joke, applying the same treatment to a different family member. It's an episode that gives every member of the ensemble something to do and regularly producing hearty laughs, surely making it one of the best episodes of "The Addams Family's" 1st season. [7.5/10]

Halloween 2023: October 21st

Nanny (2022)

If you're an established filmmaker with the right connections, and you write a script about a serious topic – motherhood, racism, cultural integration – you probably won't be able to get it made into a movie. If you throw in a ghost or a demon, you might have better luck selling the project. If you're exceptionally lucky, the movie actually gets finished, perhaps you'll win some awards at a festival, and get picked up by a hip distributor. The one everybody is gunning for is A24, since they actually give movies decent theatrical releases. Further down the list are IFC Midnight or Dark Sky, who will give you some buzz on the horror press circuit before a VOD release. Way further down that same list are the streamers: Netflix, Amazon, and the like who will give your movie minimal promotion before it quickly gets buried in the ever-expanding deluge of "content." This can happen even to movies that got great reviews, like Nikyatu Jusu's "Nanny." It earned some positive notices and then came and went late last year. I mean, come on, Amazon, this is a Blumhouse movie! It could've supported more than an awards season qualifying New York/LA run. Luckily, there are folks like me who will catch up with it a year after the fact.

"Nanny" follows Aisha, a young mother who has recently immigrated from Senegal to Manhattan. She has found work as a nanny for Rose, the little daughter of rich white couple, Adam and Amy. Aisha is saving to bring her own son, Lamine, to America with her. While she quickly bonds with Rose, and finds a charming and handsome boyfriend named Bishop, she still struggles. She works long hours, Amy has a bad habit of not paying her on time, and she never gets to talk to Lamine. Moreover, she starts to have disturbing nightmares and visions of trickster figures from African mythology, Anansi and Mami Wata. Is she loosing her mind, the way Bishop's mother did, or is she dealing with otherworldly forces, like Bishop's priestess grandmother believes?

As I mentioned above, "Nanny" is an "elevated" horror movies that are basically dour dramas with enough horrific stuff to catch the attention of the Fangoria crowd. Jusu's script has roughly a dozen topical ideas on its mind. Probably the most prominent is the weight of being an immigrant servant to rich, white folks. Adam and Amy start taking Aisha for granted immediately, assuming she'll always be available to take care of their kid. Amy acts like her problems are all that matter, at best dumping on Aisha and, at worst, haranguing her. The height of which is probably in a darkly funny scene where Amy bitches at Aisha for making her daughter spicy food. Adam, meanwhile, is barely at home. Though outwardly charming, he ends up making romantic overtures towards Aisha in probably the film's most uncomfortable moment. Through it all, Aisha actually does care about Rose, a sweet child who needs someone to take care of her. It's not her fault that her parents are assholes. Yet Aisha's still an employee, not a family member. This is her job, not the entirety of her life. "Pay the woman, for fucks' sake" is what I found myself thinking any time the topic of Aisha's paycheck came up.

This is just one of the themes that “Nanny” deals with. The father of Aisha's child was an older man who seduced her when she was a teenager, before running off. She has fears, at first, that Bishop will treat her similarly. This addresses issues of womanhood, especially among marginalized communities like immigrants from poor countries. Bishops' mother had schizophrenia, eventually taking her own life, which produced shame and grief among her son and mother. Considering Aisha's own slide into hallucinations and violent behavior, this brings up the concept of mental health in the same community. All of Adam's photography seems to focus on black people in other countries suffering, pointing towards the commodification of black pain in order to make upper-class white folks feel better about themselves. That the threats in the story are figures from African folklore also suggests tradition, repressed histories rising up in a gentrified world, the way Aisha eventually stands up to her unappreciative employers. There's a lot going on here. 

All of the above may not necessarily be that interesting to viewers looking for scares. For what it's worth, “Nanny” is more committed to being a horror film than the similarly morose “Master.” Rina Yang's cinematography is strong, featuring good use of purples and greens, especially once Aisha really starts to loose it. There's some creepy spider imagery, such as the shadow of spindly legs climbing up a wall or a creepy-crawly sneaking into Aisha's mouth while she sleeps. The stuff involving Mami Wata is less intense, if only because mermaids aren't as scary as arachnids. The use of black mold as a symbol of a shaky mind – much better done in “Relic” – is even less effective. Yet a feeling of tension and oppression does rise throughout “Nanny.” A nightmare in the last third, in which a bed sheet nearly strangulates Aisha, is quite strong. As is the appearance of a black snake in a bed. The climatic descent into madness is well done, the audience properly invested in Aisha and Rose's strife by that point. Even if it sets up an underwhelming finale.

It's clear that Jusu isn't just sneaking horror elements into her drama script to make it more marketable. “Nanny” does actually try and creep the viewer out, even if it takes its sweet time getting there. Her next project is lined up with Jordan Peele's Monkeypaw Productions, so presumably she actually is passionate about the genre. “Nanny” is further supported by a strong cast, wit Anna Diop being quite impressive in the lead role. The film's utilization of folklore definitely appeal to me as well. Not enough horror movies out there about Anansi the Spider! It falls far short of the scare factor of the likes of “Hereditary” or “The Babadook,” but “Nanny” is a solid entry in the so-called “elevated” subgenre of horror. I wonder if the similarly themed "Good Madame" is this solid? [7/10]

The Ambulance (1990)

Few people had a talent with high-concept premises like Larry Cohen did. Practically every project he ever wrote or direct had a perfectly catchy concept. “A string of mass murderers attribute their crimes to God!” “A bird monster nests in the Chrysler building!”  “A sniper holds a man hostage in a phone booth!” All classic, pithy premises. Cohen was especially proud of his ability to subvert images you associate with safety, comfort, and innocence into figures of fear. He did it with babies, desserts, and cops. He would do a similar switch-a-roo with his underseen 1990 thriller, “The Ambulance.” 

Comic book artist Josh is walking to his job at Marvel in new York City, when he encounters a pretty woman named Cheryl. He's immediately smitten with her and attempts to ask her out. She kindly turns him down before suddenly passing out. Turns out she's diabetic. A mysterious ambulance pulls up, puts Cheryl on a stretcher, and slides her into the back. Afterwards, Josh is unable to locate what hospital she's been taken too. While contacting Cheryl's also diabetic roommate, she is abducted by the same predatory ambulance. It then becomes clear that Josh has stumbled upon a conspiracy. He goes to the police, who dismiss him as crazy at first. Yet it soon becomes clear that there is a legitimate abduction ring revolving around this ambulance and Josh has just put himself in their target.

In addition to sharp premises, Larry Cohen was also extremely good at writing memorable dialogue and giving it to top-tier character actors. Eric Roberts, sporting a truly bodacious mullet, is introduced spitting some fast paced dialogue on the streets of Manhattan. Roberts' performance only gets more energetic and sweaty as his character grows more paranoid. When he's running around his apartment, on the verge of vomiting, or shouting insults as a junkyard gang in hopes of provoking him, Roberts is truly at his sweatiest bet. (One can't help but assume that the eighties' favorite pastime contributed to Roberts' high spirits here.) As much as Roberts is an ideal Larry Cohen leading man, “The Ambulance” has a stacked supporting cast. James Earl Jones is hilarious, as the neurotic detective who is always chewing gum. Reds Buttons has a delightful role as an elderly journalist that Josh befriends in the hospital, tossing off some barbed dialogue of his own. Even Megan Gallagher, as the secondary female lead, has a blast trading Cohen's hard-boiled dialogue with Roberts. 

When you have such quirky characters, played by such a game cast, spitting such amusing dialogue, “The Ambulance” is pretty much guaranteed to be high entertaining. Yet Cohen never met a high concept he couldn't make even more eye-catching. “The Ambulance's” script is constantly seeking to top itself, with another twist or unlikely turn of events. Josh gets beaten up in a junkyard, which escalates to a fist fight with the untrustworthy ambulance attendants. An exciting chase scene through the sewers of the city is soon topped when Josh goes flying out of the ambulance, while strapped to a stretcher. The titular vehicle plows through a disco, in probably the film's most delightfully hectic motion picture. Cohen was always right in step with the demands of his audience. Just when “The Ambulance” seems like it's settling in, one more action sequence and thrill ride is tossed our way. This is a movie utterly committed to topping itself and keeping the audience smiling. 

What seals the deal are some extremely slick visuals. Cohen and cinematographer Jacques Haitkin – previously of “The Hidden” and the first two “Nightmare on Elm Street” movies – fill the film with some eerie green lighting and shadowy, voyeuristic camera angles. This further enhances the movies' most horrific moments. Such as a scalpel driven into a chest, from the searing orange hatch of the ambulance. Or a slasher movie-like sequence of a hand bursting through a windshield. (A moment which feels like something out of a “Maniac Cop” sequel.) The “Miami Vice,” neo-noir vibes are especially apparent during the nightclub sequences. The bluesy Jay Chataway score also adds to this atmosphere, of dark secrets and stylized conversations. Alongside the murders and thrills, the movie's plot bends towards elements of mad science, in the deranged doctor's master plan in the diabetics he captures. 

By the way, “The Ambulance” features the first theatrically released acting credit of Stan Lee, essentially playing himself as “Marvel Comics Editor.” Lee, with his penchant for over-sized word balloons, fits right in with Cohen's stylized world. I'm sure comic fans got a kick out of seeing Marvel superheroes featured so prominently in several shots. Or to hear Jughead and Veronica mentioned in dialogue. Not that many comic fans probably saw “The Ambulance” in 1990. The movie was barely released into theaters before being dumped onto video. The movie has never gotten much attention, even after being unearthed on Blu-Ray. This perhaps is the best way to watch a movie like “The Ambulance,” an absolutely delight that prospers from an audience going in knowing nothing and with few expectations. These have always been the condition Cohen and his team have happily blown pass. A blast from start to finish, “The Ambulance” is exactly the kind of funny, smart, and relentlessly entertaining genre hybrid that Cohen did best. [9/10]

Black Mirror: San Junipero

Most “Black Mirror” episodes are about how technology will ruin our lives but “San Junipero” takes an unusually optimistic approach. Beginning in 1987, the episode begins with a shy young woman named Yorkie stepping into a night club in the city of San Junipero. She soon meets an out-going woman named Kelly and instantly forms a bond with her. The two meet again a week later and begin a sexual relationship, Yorkie's first ever. Afterwards, she has trouble finding Kelly again and is told to look for her “in another time.” Yorkie travels ahead through the decades and finds her friend in 2002. This is when it is revealed that San Junipero is a simulated reality, where the sick and dying can download their minds and live forever. The digital avatars Yorkie and Kelly use in San Junipero does not tell the whole story about their lives.

All throughout “San Junipero,” I was admittedly waiting for the sting in the scorpion's tail. “Black Mirror” is, after all, a series about the consequences technology has on our lives. And those are usually negative. Yet “San Junipero” presents a digital afterlife, where the elderly can upload their consciousness to the cloud and be young for eternity. You'd expect “Black Mirror” to really get into the downsides of such a scenario: Wouldn't this mean a corporation more-or-less owns someone's soul? What happens if there's an outage or a server somewhere goes down? Moreover, what are the implications on a mortal person's sanity in the idea of existing forever in a simulated reality? This is only touched upon briefly, as Yorkie visits a night club where those who have lost touch with their humanity have rough, S&M sex. I'll admit, I would've liked to have seen those ideas explored a lot more.

Instead, “San Junipero” is largely a love story communicated in a sweet manner. The shy, reserved Yorkie is brought out of her shell by Kelly, an extrovert who immediately knows how to communicate with other people. She can seemingly see all of Yorkie's insecurities and makes her comfortable. This bond works on-screen because the actresses are so likable. Mackenzie Davis plays Yorkie as someone you immediately want to root for. Gugu Mbatha-Raw gives Kelly a confidence that is immediately charming, You want to see these two get together the minute they are on-screen. Seeing them go through the challenges of beginning a relationship and finding solace in one another is adorable. “San Junipero” earns its happy ending in a way that feels natural.

Probably the most interesting about “San Junipero” is a easily missed line about “nostalgia therapy.” As soon as the episodes began, we see a poster for “The Lost Boys.” The club is full of vintage arcade machines. Every song on the soundtrack is immediately recognizable. At first, it struck me as pretty overdone, the episode really working overtime to make sure we understand we're in the late eighties. But, as more details about “San Junipero's” setting is revealed, it's clear that all of this is very deliberate. As the episode visits other time periods, they are similarly on-the-nose in their nostalgic details. I think the idea of a someone immersing themselves in the surface details of their past, to the exclusion of actual human connections, is a good – and dispiriting – depiction of our current relationship with nostalgia in the internet era. Of course, nostalgia therapy is an actual treatment for dementia but I have no doubt this was an intentional move on “Black Mirror's” behalf. “San Junipero” is a sweet, well-realized hour though I did find myself in the odd position of wanting “Black Mirror” to be more pessimistic for once. [7/10]

The Lawnmower Man (1987)

When reviewing the 1992 version of “The Lawnmower Man” earlier this season, I pointed out how it had almost nothing to do with the Stephen King story. Yet Brett Leonard's cyberpunk oddity wasn't the first time someone adapted the “Night Shift” tale. As part of his Dollar Baby agreement – where student filmmakers are allowed to adapt his stories for one dollar – someone named James Gonis made a twelve minute film of “The Lawnmower Man.” It is a faithful adaptation of the story, centering on a man named Harold Parkette. Parkette is in need of someone to mow his grass, after an accident with the neighbor's cat recently. He calls a strange new service and a rotund fellow in overalls soon arrives at the house. He's soon greeted with a bizarre sight: The man, in the nude, crawling behind the self-driving mower and eating the grass clippings. Harold doesn't react well and he ends up under the mower too.

King's “Lawnmower Man” is probably among his strangest stories, a literary non-sequitur that was probably cooked up during a cocaine binge. The story is basically a joke, I think, with its oddball premise and punchline like final moment. By transferring the story accurately to the screen, Conis makes it clear how ridiculous “The Lawnmower Man” is. The image of a hairy, man-boobed hayseed crawling around in the nude, green slime leaking from his mouth, as he talks about Circe and Pan is too bizarre to be anything but comical. The short continues in this direction by making Harold a blatantly cartoonish character and having the entire story play out with an air of absurdity. The film feels more like a freaky sitcom from some alternate universe than a proper horror story.

As for Conis' skills as a filmmaker, he was clearly an amateur at the time. The only copies of his “Lawnmower Man” floating around the internet are in low quality. This doesn't help make a film that was clearly already rather grainy look any better. The cinematography is often rough, with odd close-up shots of people faces. The image of a bloodied cat is not pulled off well. The short leaves the wildest moment from the story – a man getting eaten by a possessed mower – off-screen. Probably because gory special effects were off the table for a threadbare production like this. Most of Gonis' future film credits are related to Playboy magazine, suggesting he found work with that company. (Assuming IMDb isn't mixing up two unrelated Jim Gonis.) His take at “The Lawnmower Man” suggests maybe this isn't a story especially crying out for a film adaptation. [5/10]