Halloween 2025: September 24th

 

Don't Deliver Us from Evil (1971)
Mais ne nous délivrez pas du mal

When boys kill, it's almost expected. In an era when gun violence occurs with such frequency that it's not news worthy most of the time, the idea of embittered or radicalized teen boys going on rampages sadly has no novelty. When young women kill another person, however, it's a truly shocking act. Patriarchal standards usually insure most women grow up as soft, sensitive, submissive beings. The little girl are a universally recognized symbol of innocence, no matter how true that may or may not be. This makes the lurid crimes of notorious figures like Mary Bell, Brenda Spencer, Anissa E. Weier and Morgan E. Geyser sources of morbid fascination for the media and true crime followers. This is especially true of Pauline Parker and Juliet Hulme. Mostly because Hulme grew up to become a successful author of murder mysteries before anyone discovered she herself was a notable murderess. While Peter Jackson's "Heavenly Creatures" is the best film made about that case, there is an earlier example. Joël Séria's 1971 French thriller "Don't Deliver Us from Evil" was very loosely inspired by Parker and Hulme. It was controversial enough upon release to be banned in its home country, leading to the salacious international tagline that proclaimed it "the French film banned in France!"

Anne is a teenage girl attending a Catholic private academy in the French countryside. Her best friend is Lore. Despite being raised in the faith by their devout parents, both girls dismiss Christianity. They proclaim Satan as their master and promise to perform wicked deeds in his name. They spy on the nuns, read forbidden literature to each other, confess to sins they didn't commit, and have lurid fantasies about the priests. During the summer, Anne is allowed to stay with Lore at her parents' château. Their behavior grows more extreme. They attempt to seduce an adult farm hand, setting fire to his field after he tries to assault Lore. Anne tortures animals and bullies the handicapped groundskeeper. They perform a mock communion, in which they make a blood bond to each other and proclaim allegiance to Satan. Soon, the girls' activities escalate to murder. When Lore fears they might be caught, and separated, the two take extreme actions to ensure they are together forever. 

It is in the nature of teenagers to rebel against authority, obviously. I would not consider most of what goes on in the early scenes of “Don't Deliver Us from Evil” to be especially concerning. The girls staying up late to read pornography to each other, fucking with authority figures, and writing edgy shit in their journals feels totally in-line with normal teenage behavior. The brief bits of information we get about Anne and Lore's parents suggest they are very religious, making the girls' flirtation with Satanism – their version of which merely being typical Catholic ritual with Satan in place of God – a natural reaction to the world they've been brought up in. All of that is standard adolescent stuff, about challenging boundaries and defining the self. The two are also exploring their quickly emerging sexuality. They seem eager to tempt their priest into inappropriate behavior, watch the nuns undress and kiss with curiosity. Once the girls are intentionally flashing their underwear at older men and taunting them, it's obviously gone too far. Still, these action strike me as fairly expected development of precocious adolescent sexuality. The two are becoming women and discovering their bodies can hold sway over the opposite sex, something they are toying with in ways they don't understand totally. Not that unusual.

Séria's script does not spend any time detailing the girls' back stories or their relationships with their parents. (Notably, the parents seem entirely unaware of their daughters' nocturnal activities or more dangerous tendencies.) We never see the girls interacting with other people their own age, suggesting they are both social outsiders.What the cause, the simple fact of the matter is that Anne and Lore are each other's whole world. The physical closeness they share implies budding bisexual feelings but their bond ultimately feels deeper than merely sexual. Together, the girls have made their own world. Their mischievous actions, sacrilegious chatter, and home-made rituals are a secret partnership that only they know about. The film works hard to draw the viewer into this private world too. The dreamy score by Claude Germain and Dominique Ney, the use of voice-over narration from Jeanne Goupil, and Marcel Combes' picturesque cinematography go a long way of establishing the proper tone. Namely, these two share a special bond they have with no one else, that is entirely their's. Maybe you had a friendship like that once too. If you did, certain elements of “Don't Deliver Us from Evil” are liable to tug at your most nostalgic heartstrings, depicting a time in a youth's life when the insular universe they share with their closest friend is the most important thing to ever exist.

Perhaps it is the relative normalcy of “Don't Deliver Us from Evil” that makes its second half much more disturbing. Like I said, most of what Anne and Lore get up to would not be worrying... If Anne didn't show clear sadistic inclinations. The girl seems to especially delight in tricking, blackmailing, and manipulating people. She is much too rough with her pet kitten. She crushes the groundskeeper's pet bird to death, largely to see his anguished reaction. She also has a bit of a fixation on fire, meaning Anne checks off two of the Macdonald triad. Jeanne Goupil's eyes often stare ahead, from under foreboding raven bangs, giving the impression of an icy perspective of the rest of the world. Lore, meanwhile, much more often seems to be the one led into dangerous predicaments by her friend's encouraging. She's talked into exposing herself to an older man, nearly getting raped. She breaks down in tears when it becomes clear a police detective suspects something, as opposed to Jeanne's coldness. Tales of murderous duos, in which a seemingly sociopathic instigator goads an easily swayed partner into committing horrible acts, are also a well understood psychological phenomenon. 

The whimsical score and intentionally pensive pacing marks “Don't Deliver Us from Evil” as an undeniably French production. No English speaking filmmaker would approach this material with as much of an astral touch as Séria does. The result is a film that feels equal parts unnerving, as it moves towards increasingly unpleasant events, as it does tragic or deeply personal. Something else that makes the time and place of “Don't Deliver Us from Evil's” extremely obvious is the blatant sexualization of teen girls. Goupil and Catherine Wagener were 20 and 19 when filming took place but both look a lot younger. The camera has no issue leering at their bodies, especially when they strip down to their undergarments to seduce men. This is not a movie interested in examining the social pressures and learned behavior that push girls this age to act in this manner. Neither of the men who attempt to rape Lore are exactly villainized either, creating some queasy connotations of whether the girl was “leading them on” or “asking for it” and other such sexist cliches. “Don't Deliver Us from Evil” is, without a doubt, an exercise in EuroSleaze sensibilities. It adds a probably intentional extra layer of discomfort here, the director no doubt seeking to push buttons and offend, while never letting you forget that this otherwise thoughtful, perceptive motion picture firmly belongs to the exploitation genre too. (Something embraced by the lurid poster designs cooked up by marketers in other countries.)

Ya know, it's a French movie from the seventies. I guess you have to expect some stuff like that. Assuming that salacious, morally dubious angle doesn't put you off, “Don't Deliver Us from Evil” is a fascinating film that lulls the viewer into a dream-like state before shocking you with its disturbing implications. The performances are beguiling and the whole movie unfolds like a distressing vision. It doesn't have the intense psychological introspective of “Heavenly Creatures” nor does it adopt a child's imaginative perspective to the degree of the similarly themed “Poison for the Fairies.” However, in its own way, “Mais ne nous délivrez pas du mal” is an absorbing and distressing answer to the question of “Do you know where your children are?” They probably aren't worshiping the devil and seducing passing motorists but, in the days before cell phones, I guess there was no way to be absolutely certain. [8/10]
 

Call Girl of Cthulhu (2014)

As conceived by Lovecraft back in 1926, the entity known as C'thulhu was a symbol of man's inability to comprehend his own insignificance within the universe. Ageless, deathless, and octopus-headed, the Old One represented the swirling abysses of knowledge man was incapable of grasping. Lord knows what Howard Philips would've thought of his creation essentially becoming a mascot, a pop culture reference for nerds to chuckle at, a cuddly plush toy. For some, the idea of merely snuggling C'thulhu is not enough for them. Did you know there are multiple series that re-imagine Lovecraft's eldritch abominations as cute anime girls? That last step would be deeply unnecessary for some enthusiasts, it would seem, as the existence of Lovecraftian erotica suggests. All of which would surely make the notoriously sex-averse H.P. go mad himself. The point is: Filmmaker Chris LaMartina definitely wasn't the first person to make the pun “Call Girl of Cthulhu” when he directed a movie with that title in 2014. However, it is notably another example of how some people think a sanity-rending horror is actually kind of hot.

Carter Wilcox is a would-be comic book artist, whose social awkwardness around the opposite sex has left him a virgin well into his twenties. This frustration is further aggravated by his roommate, noise musician Erica, often having loud sex with her big-dicked boyfriend. His neighbor down the hall purchases the services of Riley, a professional courtesan. She catches Carter's eye and he attempts not to only pay for her sexual services but actually romance the woman. Meanwhile, a cult of Cthulhu worshipers are looking for a maiden with a distinctive birthmark on her rear, foretold to be the mate that will lure the Great Old One back to our world. A rival group of researchers, out to prevent Armageddon, hire Carter to make a forgery of the Necronomicon. His involvement becomes more direct when he learns that Riley is the cult's target, the call girl who will be servicing the horror from beyond the veil tonight. 

Chris LaMartina's “WNUF Halloween Special” used the limitations of its budget to create a funny, insightful autopsy of analog nostalgia that had room for multiple sketch comedy-like bits. “Call Girl of Cthulhu,” LaMartina's next motion picture, similarly has an excess of ideas. Unfortunately, instead of being relegated to commercial breaks, all the concepts compete for screen time. A comic book artist falling in love with a hooker doomed to be Cthulhu's mate is but one story thread. The villains have been slaughtering sex workers around town, in search of their specific target. The ones that don't die end up becoming half-mutated ghouls. The colorful band of researchers are attempting to stop the baddies, each member of that team given a one-note gimmick. From there, a number of similarly exaggerated characters drift in and out of the story. Such as the well endowed DJ at the strip club or LaMartina regular George Stover as Riley's most pathetic client. Carter's fascination with the titular escort feels like it's often forgotten. The last third, indeed, reveals that this is not the destination of the script at all. 

Like many micro-budget would-be cult classic horror/comedies of this sort, “Call Girl of Cthulhu” seems desperate to win the audience's approval. The dialogue is full of crude profanity, the scenarios bend towards the improbable, and the characters are largely defined by bizarre attributes. Some of these jokes are interesting in their weirdness. Such as the members of the cult who wear weird fetish mask to hide their seemingly inhuman features. However, the jokes seem secondary to the wackiness. By which I mean, “Call Girl of Cthulhu” is never as funny as it wants to be. When combined with a formless screenplay, the result is a sluggish pacing that never picks up. The oddball characters come and go, the film seemingly looking for new angles to explore to stretch out the runtime, without adding much depth. That last point means neither of the romances Carter finds himself entangled with feel natural at all. Women end up finding the awkward nerd endearing not because it makes sense but because the movie wouldn't exist without it. 

One imagines that “Call Girl of Cthulhu” was conceived as a title first and a story second. That furthers the idea that the premise was probably better suited to a mock trailer – such as the kind that would've played during “WNUF Halloween Special's” commercial breaks – than a full-length movie. This is most apparent in what is the film's best sequence. That would be when Riley, well on her way to becoming an otherworldly monstrosity, unleashes her collection of freakish mutations on her regular johns. This is when the title's promise of a prostitute of the Nyarlathotep variety is actually fulfilled. That montage is a good example of the charmingly home-made special effects on display here. While a doorway to beyond looks a lot like cardboard, the various latex and rubber tentacles and deformities on display are well done. Cthulhu himself is a no-show but we do get some cool tentacles slithering in from beyond. A flesh-hungry penis monster is another notable addition. I also liked the masks some of the cultist wear, which resemble Cthulhu's tentacled face but are made out of cut up newspaper.

I admire LaMartina's do-it-yourself attitude, how he doesn't let a lack of resources restrain his ambitions. You can tell he's a real Lovecraft nerd too. The movie is littered with jokey shout-outs to the author's writing. Such as a condom labeled “Deep One,” a dominatrix calling herself Missy Katonixx, Carter's first name, Erica's last name of Zann, an appearance from a Dr. West, a random shout-out to the Dreamlands, or the suitably Lovecraftian downbeat ending. Unfortunately, “Call Girl of Cthulhu” is a movie I admire more spiritually than in actuality. The jokes simply aren't very funny. The script is slapdash. The pacing drags horribly. The romances are never involving. The cheesy monster effects are cool. I think LaMartina and I must have similar taste in women, as I found a lot of the often nude female performers attractive, for whatever that is worth. Sadly, the positives aren't enough to make up for the apparent flaws on display. But it's alright. We'll always have “WNUF.” And a romantic ode to fish-fucking won Best Picture three years after this, meaning anyone who wants to get down and dirty with Yog-Sothoth has since been vindicated. [4/10]

Tales from the Darkside: A Case of the Stubborns

“Tales from the Darkside” was essentially a spin-off of “Creepshow.” While that movie proudly announced it was Stephen King's take on the E.C. Horror comics, the TV show only occasionally drew from well-known authors of the macabre. One of those exceptions is the season one episode, “A Case of the Stubborns,” which would see Robert Bloch once again being adapted for a half-hour anthology show. The story concerns Jody and his mother, who gather for breakfast one morning under the sad news that his grandfather died the night before. That's when Grandpa Titus comes down stairs and starts to eat. When his daughter informs him that he's dead, he dismisses her concerns. Grandpa Titus continues to decompose while lingering around the house as an undead revenant, refusing to acknowledge that he's dead. When not even the town pastor can convince grandpa he's now a rotting corpse, Jody seeks the help of the voodoo priestess that lives on the outskirts of town. 

Obviously, “A Case of the Stubborns” is “Tales from the Darkside” in a silly mood. Not only is the general premise, of an old man persisting as a living corpse simply because he's too stubborn to accept that he's dead, obviously farcical. The episode is set somewhere in the American south. All the characters talk with exaggerated accents, peppering their speech with folksy turns of phrases. Many of the supporting characters are very silly. A pre-Data Brent Spiner appears as the town reverend, whose rhetoric leaves Grandpa Titus unmoved before he starts gulping down on a jug. The voodoo woman is a far sillier character, attempting to scare the boy before admitting it's all an act. The result is a half-hour that is a bit too cutesy for my taste. “A Case of the Stubborns” simply leans way too hard into the preciousness of old-timey southern fried antics. 

I did find some elements to enjoy though. First off, the make-up on actor Eddie Bracken's face as the grandfather grows increasingly deceased is well done. By the end, his skin is bloated, festering, discolored, seeming to simultaneously be falling off and filling up with excess fluid. It is gnarly looking and the main source of horror in an episode otherwise more focused on chuckles. The performances are strong. Bracken does convincingly portrayed the dual nature of an old man so obnoxiously stuck-in-his-ways that he refuses to accept dying but is also inevitably charming in his mischievous, grouchy manner. A positively baby-faced Christian Slater plays the teenage lead and there's definitely some novelty in seeing that actor in the role of a naive kid. The final image of the episode is equal parts absurd but also, in an odd way, somewhat moving. The idea of being faced with the cold hard facts of the inevitability of our own demise is poignant, despite the ridiculousness of everything around that moment. [6/10]

 

 

The Addams Family: Ophelia Visits Morticia

While “Ophelia Visits Morticia” has a technically accurate title, the episode probably should've been called “Uncle Fester Joins the Peace Corps” instead. Well, he tries anyway. Yes, this is prompted by Moritica's older twin sister visiting the household. Ophelia is heartbroken because her latest beau, Montrose, has abandoned her. That makes her fifth dumping this year, with Montrose having left to join the government agency. Ophelia notices the resemblance between Fester and her most recent runaway lover, in a somewhat insulting manner. Hoping to prove his vitality, Fester decides to volunteer himself into the world-trotting program. Ophelia likes this idea, as she hopes he'll find her missing fiance. The family goes about training their most avuncular member but, ultimately, Gomez gets the news that Washington has turned down his application. Hoping not to hurt Fester's – or Ophelia's – feelings, the couple attempt to make their beloved uncle feel too important at home to travel abroad. 

As “The Addams Family” has gone on, it has come to rely on the running gags associated with the characters more and more. This episode sees Fester squeeze his own head with a vice, Gomez rushing into the room suddenly to kiss Morticia's arm when she drops a bit of French, and Ophelia greeting every man she meets with a judo flip. These gags are starting to get a little old, I'll admit. At least the writers think of some clever variations on its reoccurring ideas. Gomez is distracted from his rope holding duty when his wife calls him bubela, Cleopatra the African Strangler gets a little too friendly at one point, and John Astin does a spectacular pratfall after he fears he might get flipped again. Another revisited gag is Ophelia's left leg raising when a flower is picked from her head. This is apparently because, as the episode reveals, the ring of daisy in her hair actually grow out of her scalp. A standard genetic quirk in this family, one assumes. 

While this one does revisit plenty of previous set-ups, there are several amusingly fresh bits as well. My favorite is when Fester attempts to do a push-up in the backyard. There's also a series of kerfuffles involving seashells, which made me chuckle. As is usually the case, the warmth and banter of the cast keeps this half-hour going by quickly. The opening scene where Gomez asks to take his wife to the drive-in movie theater – the implication of what they'll get up to there quite evident from his impish grin – is a great example of Astin and Carolyn Jones' incredible chemistry. I also couldn't help but smirked at the rather obvious ways a body double is employed any time Morticia and Ophelia have to interact in the same shot. Jackie Coogan gets to interact with most of the family here, trading ghoulish wordplay with Astin and Lisa Loring as Wednesday. Ya know, you can see the punchline coming each time with these conversations but I still grinned. Also, this episode features two light-hearted jokes about suicide, another topic this show made light of surprisingly often. I'm going to guess that plots based around attempting to gaslight loved ones into changing their mind were far more typical in the sixties though. [7/10]

Halloween 2024: October 14th

Mr. Vampire (1985)

Geung see sin sang

I'm not going to lie to you guys. I first learned what a jiang-shi is thanks to Hsien-Ko in the "Darkstalkers" video games. I wasn't always as big of a folklore nerd as I am today. I'm sure that character – who is awfully adorable for being a rigor-mortis infused, qi sucking, hopping corpse – was a lot of western people's introduction to the concept, a figure in Chinese ghost stories comparable to the Eastern vampire or zombie. Of course, the reason Capcom thought to put a jiang-shi into their monster fighting video game series is because they were a common presence in eighties Hong Kong martial arts movies. The visual clichés of the creature were solidified then: The Qing dynasty era burial robes, the paper with holy symbols stuck to their heads, the stiff-armed and hopping gait, the blueish grey skin and little fangs. While Sammo Hung reintroduced the concept to Hong Kong cinema in 1980's "Encounters of the Spooky Kind," it was 1985's "Mr. Vampire" that truly kicked off a wave of martial arts horror/comedies about the monsters. The film – which Hung produced – spawned several sequels and a whole batch of imitators, making these distinctive Chinese ghouls a prominent part of the international mythic bestiary. 

In the early days of Republic-era China, Master Kau uses Taoist magic to relocate corpses to new graves for rich clients who hope to please the spirits of their ancestors. The reanimated bodies are kept under control by magic scrolls glued to their foreheads. Otherwise, they would become wild, breath-sucking jiang-shi. Kau's clownish assistants, Man-choi and Chau-sang, often get into mischief. The group is hired to relocate the ancestor of a rich businessman, Mister Yam. Kau is distressed to find the body hasn't decayed in twenty years, a sign that it's going to become a vampire. Kau attempts to keep the hostile spirit under control but Man-choi and Chau-sang's incompetency soon leads to the hopping vampire getting loose. The group attempts to get the supernatural terror back under control. Romantic rivalries, more magic, a horny ghost, and lots of kung-fu ensues. 

As with "Encounters of the Spooky Kind," "Mr. Vampire" is a loosely plotted film, with intervening subplots and set pieces that don't have much to do with the primary story. Man Choi seems to be attracted to Mr. Yam's daughter – the debut role of future action star Moon Lee – while her military officer cousin also pursues her. This leads to a slapstick sequence where Man Choi uses magic to manipulate the officer's body and humiliate him. A lengthy subplot involves Chau-sang falling under the sway of a female ghost, whose frantic lovemaking threatens to exhaust him to death. She's introduced in a musical number, where she attempts to hitch a ride on the young man's bicycle. That leads to a wild sequence where Master Kau has to fight off the spirit, which results in her hair turning into spikes and her head floating around the room. Later, Man Choi is bitten by the jiang-shi and must hold off the transformation by constantly dancing on a bed of glutinous rice. (Which seems to have a similar effect on these Eastern vampires as garlic does to European ones.) None of these plot threads or sequences have much to do with the story of the leaping vampire getting loose. This results in "Mr. Vampire" playing a lot like a gag comedy, the main narrative being nothing but a clothes line to hang a series of increasingly outrageous stunts and jokes on. 

And when those stunts and jokes are this entertaining, who can complain? As in many of the films of Hung, Jackie Chan, and their collaborators at Golden Harvest, "Mr. Vampire" smoothly combines acrobatic martial arts and physical slapstick comedy. The action scenes are endlessly inventive and fast paced, constantly showing off the skills of these performers. A sequence where Kau and his students ensnare the vampire with a net of enchanted thread is fantastic, playing out like an elaborate ballet of stunt work and action. The finale features Chin Siu-ho, as Chau-sang, effortlessly running up walls, leaping over props, and using chairs and tables as weapons. An earlier scene, where the hero is nearly branded and has to juggle the buffoonish police officer while fighting off another revenant, shows off how adapt the movie is at getting both thrills and laughs out of these action scenes. Mostly because the film is equally good at both elements. An earlier scene, where Chau-sang mistakes the daughter for a prostitute, got a lot of laughs out of me. As did the Marx Brothers-esque bodily possession sequence. The totally physical performance does lead to a few overbearing gags. Ricky Hui mugs furiously as Man Choi, especially during an inexplicable moment of homophobic gaggery. Overall though, the stunts and comedy work perfectly in sync to create a consistently entertaining motion picture. 

As a light-hearted monster movie, "Mr. Vampire" is a lot of fun too. Director Ricky Lau and cinematographer Peter Ngor make a good looking film. The nights are beautifully dark, often cast in gorgeous shades of blue and dark green. Many of the sets and locations have a charming artificial quality to them, the film fully transporting the viewer into its fantasy land. Mostly, I came away from the movie understanding why the jiang-shi would become such a pop culture icon after this. The stiff-limbed movement of the vampires is such a cool visual, an interesting physical stunt and a fittingly uncanny feature. These vampiric creatures hunt by sensing people's breath, leading to several mildly suspenseful scenes of people holding their breath while the monster hovers near-by. Yuen Wah, another member of Chan/Hung's troupe, plays the main jiang-shi and his make-up gets more beastly as the film goes on. The ghost scenes are also a hoot, featuring bizarre special effects and visually inventive camera work. I don't know if it's ever scary, exactly, but "Mr. Vampire" maintains a spooky, kooky tone throughout that is perfect for the Halloween season. 

A wild horror/comedy circus of a film, "Mr. Vampire" rarely slows down. Something crazy, cool, or funny is happening on-screen nearly every minute of its runtime. Lam Ching-ying, as Master Kau, remains an ideal straight man throughout and somehow manages to make a unibrow intimidating. Much the same way "Encounters of the Spooky Kind" did, the movie gets right into the action and ends the minute after the threat is resolved. I've got to respect economic storytelling like that. "Mr. Vampire" is considerably smoother than Hung's earlier supernatural kung-fu comedy, with more likable characters, funnier gags, and cooler gimmicks. In other words, this is the stuff of cult movie legend and exactly the kind of third-eye stimulating madness I seek in Hong Kong movies. After years of grainy bootlegs and subpar releases, the movie finally has a lovingly restored Blu-ray release, so check it out right away. [9/10]

Bleeders (1997)

Who mourns for the VHS gimmick box? If you're of the right age, to have wandered video stores during their hay days, you know what I'm talking about. In the eighties and nineties, any goofy feature on the VHS box, to make your title leap off the shelves at customers, was a worthwhile investment. Horror movies were especially fond of these. Boxes with embossed covers or lenticular holograms were always a good bet. Some went further and decorated their cardboard sleeved with monsters with blinking eyes, monsters that roared, or monsters that propositioned you. Low-budget Canadian horror movie "Hemoglobin" was written by the same team who made "Alien," based on a story by H.P. Lovecraft, and starred Rutger Hauer. You'd have thought that would've been enough to sell the movie but its distributor had another thought. They cut out four minutes of nudity, retitled the film "Bleeders," and stuck a plastic sleeve full of squishy fake blood on the front of the box. Maybe this was the right instinct because, seventeen years later, that box gimmick is still the main thing people remember about this movie. 

Three hundred years ago, the Van Daam family got kicked out of Holland because they loved incest too much. The family eventually settled on an island in the Northern Americas. In the modern day, last of the bloodline John Strauss arrives on the island in hopes of finding an answer to the mysterious blood disease that is slowly killing him. Instead, he finds a dead end small town where the biggest new story is that the local cemetery is being dug up, due to cheap coffins causing bodies to fall out... That's what everyone in town thinks is happening. In fact, a clan of inbred, mutant dwarfs live under the island and have been feeding on the town's dead bodies for centuries. Now that their food supply is being removed, the monsters are coming above ground for fresher meat. John Strauss, his devoted wife, and the alcoholic town doctor investigate and discover that John has a very predictable connection to these damnable creatures.

Loosely adapting Lovecraft's "The Lurking Fear," "Bleeders" does show some of the author's favorite themes poking through. Such as the curse of a degenerate family bloodline dooming the protagonist to an ultimately inhuman existence, grave robbing ghoul monsters, and old legends in burned down homes. Unfortunately, the film follows another one of Lovecraft's recurring tropes too closely. Namely, a protagonist who is a totally inept dork. John Strauss spends most of the movie in a sickly stupor, his nose frequently gushing blood, and often falling unconscious. His voice is spaced out, he speaks of insatiable urges, and generally acts like a weirdo. It's hard to believe his wife would be so totally devoted to him. When the easily foreseen truth about John's genetic destiny is revealed, the character falls into more disturbing behavior. That could've made for an interestingly sordid story of a descent into depravity. However, Roy Dupuis as John and Kristin Lehman as his wife both give such unlikable performances. Dupuis is stilted, Lehman is somehow both blank and overemotive. They share zero chemistry, no matter how much graphic humping they do in the uncut version. Their tragic love story is played as contrived melodrama, leading to a thoroughly unconvincing final moment. 

Bafflingly, the story of the Strausses digging up his horrible family history often feels like it's playing alongside an almost unrelated second movie. Much like Full Moon's "Lurking Fear" from three years earlier, "Bleeders" is also a schlocky monster movie about a small town being overwhelmed by cannibalistic underground humanoid dwellers. The creature effects that bring the deformed ghouls to life aren't bad, their hunched and tumorous bodies being properly grotesque. Scenes devoted to the creature surfacing, attacking people at the docks, yanking victims through open graves, or pulling little girls underground is when "Bleeders" is at its most lively. This element peaks early, when Hauer's doctor enters into the tunnels under the cemetery. After a hurricane blows in and everyone takes shelter in the town lighthouse, "Bleeders" becomes a repetitive siege picture. Tension free attack scenes continue until the movie blusters towards an underwhelming climax. 

In general, "Bleeders" is a movie with an off-balance tone. The musical score is composed of Indian sitar music and wailing guitars that would be more at home in a Skinnemax erotic thriller. The film has the plot of a low-brow creature feature but approaches everything with deadly seriousness. For an example of that, it opens and closes with comically self-serious narration. This conflicts with the characters, most of whom are written as cartoonish assholes. The married couple stay at a hotel which also functions as the town mortuary. The woman who runs the place is utterly obnoxious, while her daughter is so soft-spoken as to barely exist. While hanging around the burned house, John encounters an old woman in a wheelchair who speaks with a hilariously exaggerated Mainer accent. The little kids and fishermen around town are all played in this weirdly broad manner. The only actor in the film, perhaps unsurprisingly, that strikes the right balance of camp and gravitas is Rutger Hauer. The scene where he performs an autopsy on one of the creatures, dryly commenting on its hermaphroditic nature, is the highlight of the movie. When Hauer announces to everyone in town what's happening, it's the right kind of campy exuberance that this movie needed significantly more of. Always a pro and a joy to watch, Hauer manages to wring something like actual pathos out of his character's standard backstory of alcoholism and failure. (Delivered minutes after he's introduced.) Really, if the movie had been completely about him and cut out the married couple entirely, it easily would've been improved. 

Depressingly, this would be the final screenwriting credit of Dan O'Bannon and Ronald Shusett in the former's lifetime. Considering the quality of the duo's output, and the obvious respect O'Bannon had for Lovecraft, it's difficult to believe "Bleeders" represents their original screenplay too much. I guess that's the difference between getting a Ridley Scott or Paul Verhoven to direct your script versus getting the guy who made "Witchboard III" to direct your script. Having now seen the film, I actually understand exactly why the distributors threw a cheap Halloween decoration on the box to help sell the movie. Despite its strong pedigree, "Bleeders" is a limp mess. It's held back by a weirdly split story structure, unappealing characters, and a general lack of dramatic tension in its execution. Lumpy, formaldehyde-slurping, subterranean hermaphrodites and a boozy Rutger Hauer go a long way but it's not enough to salvage this forgettable feature. [5/10]

Strange Frequency: Soul Man

Owing to shared custody weekends with my dad, and his Carl-like taste in music, I watched a lot of VH1 during 2001. Based on the success of shows like "Behind the Music" and "Storytellers," the network was continuing to drift away from just playing music videos into more music-adjacent programming at that time. They started to produce scripted movies and shows too. Such as "Strange Frequency," which was described as "the rock 'n' roll version of the Twilight Zone." Beginning as a TV film, thirteen half-hour episodes would spawn from the premise. I never watched it at the time but, considering the amount of folklore around the music world, it always struck me as a good idea for an anthology. 

"Soul Man" revolves around Mitch, a much abused roadie for temperamental rock star Jason Armstrong. He also lusts after Nicole, his boss' main squeeze. While looking to replace a broken guitar, Mitch stumbles upon a piece of music written in blood. It's supposedly the last song composed by Jimi Hendrix, on the night he died. Legend has it that playing it successfully can summon the devil. Mitch does so and, afterwards, is approached by a manager from Iscariot Productions. Later that night, Jason injures his hand and Mitch is asked to fill in for him. The resulting concert turns Mitch into a star overnight and wins Nicole's heart. That's when he figures out who his manager actually is. Soon, the shredding roadie is in a contest for his very soul. 

There's no rock legend more persistent than musicians selling their souls to the Devil for talent and success. This might be because signing contracts with record companies already feels like a Faustian bargain. (An observation made many times before, in classics such as "Phantom of the Paradise.") "Soul Man" – a clever title, I'll admit – is a standard take on this premise. After signing with his new manager, Mitch stumbles into success without realizing what he's gotten himself into. However, probably owing to "Strange Frequency's" low budget, the episode can't explore this idea too thoroughly. Mitch goes from his incredible first concert to a moral questioning immediately in the next scene. The only bad thing that happens is Nicole getting pushed aside by a wave of shrieking groupies. The middle act feels like it's missing, the episode heading right into the climax of a "Devil Went Down to Georgia"-style duel. Which is set in the same music store location we saw earlier, one of seemingly three sets in the entire episode. 

The script is rushed. The budget is low. There's a lot of close-ups of someone's fingers rockin' on the guitar, while the actor's faces appear in a totally different shot. Despite its obvious flaws, I still kind of liked "Soul Man." Mostly because of its leads. Roger Daltry acts as both the show's host and plays the Devil. Probably because I watched too much "Highlander: The Series" as a kid, I'm abnormally fond of Daltry as an actor. The devil is exactly the kind of hammy role he excels in. He even gets to put on a hick accent in the double role of the music store owner. James Marsters, "Buffy's" Spike, is serviceable enough as Mitch. We only see a little bit of his considerable charm here, stuck in a fairly one-note part. It's also funny that the show so obviously uses a double for the guitar playing scenes, when Marsters is actually a decent guitarist in real life. Maybe I'm nostalgic for pre-9/11 basic cable schlock like this – check out the low-rise jeans the girls wear – but I kind of enjoyed "Soul Man." I would've much preferred VH1 pivot to shit like this than reality TV trash. I hear there's an episode with Eric Roberts as a murderous hippie? Oh sweet Satan, help me resist. [6/10]

The Merry Frolics of Satan (1906)

Les quatre cents farces du diable

French magician turned cinematic pioneer Georges Méliès probably created the first horror film, 1896's “Le Manoir du Diable.” That short was simply about the devil pranking a guy inside a spooky house. Méliès would expand on this theme all throughout his career, the concept reaching perhaps its most ambitious form with 1906's “The Merry Frolics of Satan.” Two gentlemen visit an alchemist, who gives them a pill that he promises can grant any wish they might have. The two men request to travel around the entire world within a few minutes. Little do they know that the alchemist is actually the devil himself. They conjure a magical train that takes them all around Europe but each destination is fraught with misfortune, imps usually appearing to ruin whatever good time the two are attempting to have. After a calamitous journey through the heavens on a carriage pulled by a phantom horse, the devil whisks his victim away to the inferno below where he roasts him over a fire on a rotating spit. 

Méliès made what are often known as “trick shorts,” little films devoted to nothing more than displaying camera tricks and simple contraptions to achieve the earliest possible version of cinematic special effects. This meant they were light on narrative. “The Merry Frolics of Satan,” at 22 minutes long, is among  Méliès' longest works. That doesn't mean it has much more in the way of narrative. This is essentially a series of set pieces, the travelers beset by a new supernatural mishap everywhere they go. Every scene features some loopy slapstick, usually achieve through large paper prop interacting with the actors. This results in scenes of people being knocked about by an enormous telescope or a phantom hand. Or a lengthy sequence of a set of briefcase being unfolded into the miniature train. That stunt is topped later, during a scene where rampaging imps and a pair of monkeys fold up the tables and chairs people are dining on and yanking them away.

There might not be much story here, merely a comedic condensation of the Faustian moral of “Never bargain with the devil.” However, the style is the point with  Méliès' films. The special effects are crude by modern standards. Most of the unusual faces and props are nothing more than elaborate pieces of wood or paper, that fold in on themselves. The trap doors from which objects emerge and disappear are never disguised. In effect, however, it makes for an enchanting visual appearance. Many scenes were colored-in by hand, creating a surreal appearance resembling a child's activity book. Similarly, the playfulness on display is incredibly charming, even 128 years later. The skeleton horse pulling the celestial carriage kicks its feet in the air. Leering faces appear among the stars. Dancing girls do a kick line after our doomed hero arrives in Hell.  Méliès was having so much fun bringing these incredible visuals to life for the first time. He made that clear by casting himself as Satan, the mischievous overseer of all this mayhem. The result is a piece of cinematic magic that still impresses over a century after it was first put to celluloid. [8/10]

Halloween 2023: October 29th

Five Nights at Freddy's (2023)

In 2013, unsuccessful Christian game designer Scott Cawthon released "Chipper & Sons Lumber Co." The game was poorly received, with the few who did play it saying the characters were unintentionally creepy and moved like old Chuck E. Cheese's animatronics. Cawthon decided to lean into this with his next release, creating a horror game that featured intentionally creepy animatronics characters. The result, "Five Nights at Freddy's," became an immediate phenomenon, especially with kids. Bolstered by a litany of YouTube reaction videos, the game soon spawned multiple sequels, spin-offs, an obsessive fandom, and a metric fuck-ton of merchandise. Obviously, Hollywood came knocking after that. A film version was announced in 2015, with Blumhouse coming on-board in 2017. After several years in development, filming moved forward with "The Wind's" Emma Tammi directing. The cinematic "Five Nights at Freddy's" reached theaters in time for Halloween of this year, to rabid anticipation from fans and general bafflement from everyone else.

As as a child, Mike Schmidt's brother was kidnapped and presumably murdered by an unknown man. The incident haunts him still and he has reoccurring dreams about it. As an adult, Mike is the caretaker of his younger sister, Abby. Threatened with losing custody of her, Mike takes the only job he can get: a nighttime security gig at an abandoned restaurant/arcade called Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. Mike soon discovers that Freddy's is at the center of an unsolved series of child murders from the eighties. Also, the restaurant's rickety animatronic animal band spring to life at night, attacking anyone they deem an intruder. His dreams about his brother intensifying, Mike soon realizes he has to unravel the mystery at Freddy's if he hopes to keep Abby safe. 

I've never actually played any of the "Freddy's" games and am not that familiar with the series. But my girlfriend is a fan, so I've picked up on a few things over the years. I know this universe has quite an elaborate, convoluted backstory. The greatest weakness of the film adaptation is how the script — co-written between Cawthon, Tammi, and "Tragedy Girls" filmmaker Tyler MacIntire — tries to squeeze in as much of that lore as possible. There's often long stops in the pacing devoted to explaining something or setting up a plot device for later use. One character in particular, a beat cop named Vanessa with seemingly nothing else to do, exists primarily to dump expositionary monologues. I guess this is inevitable when you are adapting a game series that delivers it's story more through background details than a forward narrative. The result is a movie that is quite awkwardly paced. Freddy Fazbear doesn't even appear until about forty minutes into the film, with long stretches of the story taking place away from the abandoned pizza parlor. Seems to me that the isolation and atmosphere of its setting is mostly what made the games scary but the movie doubles-down on narrative instead. 

Yet, when the "Five Nights at Freddy's" movie gets out of its own way, it can be effective. I was skeptical if the cute, highly toyetic animatronics could actually be made scary. The fact that I find Freddy and the gang are so goofy looking has been the main roadblock to me getting into this series. Yet the film does occasionally pull it off. The moments when the machines move off-camera, glaring suddenly into the security camera, or their eyes softly glow in the dark, actually work for me. The highlight of the film is a sequence where some intruders enter the parlor and are picked off one-by-one. This is the moment when "Five Nights" feels the most like a throwback slasher movie, devoted to the ol' stalk-and-slash. And it works, largely because the excellent creature effects add a realistic heft and weight to the robots and because the dilapidated setting can genuinely be eerie at times. 

However, "Freddy's" is a franchise mostly beloved by children. You can feel the movie frequently pulling back on the scariness and gore. Which makes the more violent scenes feel tonally out-of-place. But I'm not sure that tonal consistency was a big concern here. The film indecisively dangles the animatronics in-between being figures of fear and misunderstood softies. A long sequence in the middle features the heroes playfully interaction with the robots, even including some broad physical comedy. Moments like this is what most reminds me that this is a movie for eight-year-olds. Eventually, the film decides Freddy and the gang are dangerous monsters with sympathetic origins. Yet that uncertainty does hang in the air, over whether we are supposed to be afraid of the robots or want to give them big hugs. 

I have no idea if Emma Tammi is a "Five Nights" fan girl. I would guess so, as the film feels chained to fan expectations and respect for canon. Yet I do think Tammi makes an overall good-looking movie. The cinematography is solid, with a slow zoom into the neon sign outside the establishment being the coolest moment. The production design is strong, with the derelict location feeling fittingly unkept. The cast is decent. Josh Hutcherson is a serviceable lead, Piper Rubio is cute as the little sister, and Matthew Lillard is fittingly off-beat in a key role. Really, the only time "Freddy's" really made me roll my eyes are during the extensive dream sequences. It's an ungainly plot point. The ghost kids element falls into all the clichés of that troupe that I find goofy and insufferable. Then again, Tammi's "The Wind" worked best when emphasizing atmosphere and isolation, over its limp attempts at jump scares and horror stereotypes, so this seems to be a re-occuring trend for her. 

Ultimately, I feel like "Five Nights at Freddy's" probably would've been a far more effective horror movie if it simply went back to the premise of the original game: A guy, forced into this situation by economic pressures, alone in a building with wandering robots that want to kill him. However, that's really not what the "Freddy's" is. Instead, it's made to please longtime fans that expect to see certain things and have their beloved mythology honored. (Such as jarring cameos from YouTubers.) I guess that's what big budget adaptations are in this very online world of ours. Still, I didn't hate "Five Nights at Freddy's." In fact, I think it's almost a good movie. Once it gets through a bumpy first half, this turns into a solidly amusing monster movie for kids. Considering the track record of video game movies and the niche aspects of the source material, it could've been a lot worse and altogether more inaccessible. Maybe this is the best we could've expected from a movie about murderous, singing pizza robots. [6/10]

The Mask (1961)

When I think of exploitation and horror films made by our brothers to the north, my mind immediately goes to the likes of David Cronenberg, Ivan Reitman, and Bob Clark. However, the story of Canuxploitation go back much further than that. Canada has had its own, small film industry since the early days of the art form. It wasn't until the fifties that Canadian producers became interested in producing films for other markets, made in their own country. As far as every source I've read knows, 1961's “The Mask” is the first horror made entirely in Canada by a Canadian crew. The film would be picked up for U.S. distribution by Warner Brothers, making “The Mask” also among the first Canadian films to reach a wide audience. Nowadays, the film is regarded as not just a historical artifact but an oddball cult favorite. 

Psychologist Dr. Allen Barnes has a distressing visit with his patient, Michael. The man complains of murderous dreams and mentions feeling powerless against some force. That night, Michael commits suicide. Shortly afterwards, a package arrives at Barnes' office. Inside, is a skull-shaped, tribal mask used by the Aztecs during rituals of human sacrifice. Barnes feels compelled to put the mask on and, when he does, has vivid visions. He quickly becomes addicted to the mask's powers and finds himself driven to murder. Allen's girlfriend and partners try to intervene, while a detective investigates the killings. 

From the first interaction between Dr. Barnes and his disturbed patient, it's clear that “The Mask” is operating on a heightened level of reality. The performances are stilted and stage-like. The actors tend to say everything they are feeling at any given moment. This becomes especially evident when it becomes clear what “The Mask” is about. After putting the mask on for the first time, Dr. Barnes is immediately addicted to it. His girlfriend recognizes a change in his behavior and appearance right away. It seems, mere hours after using the mask for the first time, Allen has changed from an upward member of society to a desperate junkie. That includes perpetual five o'clock shadow sprouting up on his face. The film features scenes of Allen's girlfriend asking him to choose between her and the mask and his friends and family coming together to beg him to stop. Allen even says he can quit any time he wants, he just doesn't want too. Ultimately, “The Mask” is a highly melodramatic anti-drug metaphor that's about as subtle as that implies.  

And what kind of drug does the mask most resemble? Probably some sort of powerful hallucinogenic. When Allen wears the mask, he's greeted to bizarre visions. He sees the mask – sometimes floating on its own, sometimes worn by a woman, sometimes worn by a corpse – throwing fireballs in his face. He sees zombies and ghouls lunging at him, in vaguely temple like sets that are thick with fog. One particularly vivid sequence has him floating down a Styx-like river, led by a rotten-faced ferryman. It's all pretty crazy stuff. Some of the images, like snakes emerging from a cadaver's eye sockets or a pair of gloved hands floating above a sofa, are even somewhat creepy. That everyone in these fantasy sequences wear masks of different sorts further lends an air of unreality to the proceedings. 

What makes these hallucinations all the more vivid is that they are in color, while the rest of “The Mask” is in black-and-white. That is where the film's central gimmick emerges: These trip scenes were originally presented in 3D. (Making “The Mask” Canada's first 3D movie too.) Each time Allen is compelled to wear the mask, a voice booms out to “PUT ON THE MASK,” which was an order to audience members to put on their 3-D glasses. One presumes that most of “The Mask's” budget was spent on these sequences and the 3-D technology necessary to film them. This probably explains why the rest of the movie is so dull. Oh, there's some cool, black-and-white photography. But far too much of “The Mask's” non-trip sequences are devoted to people standing around in plain rooms, having very dry conversations. 

That is the zone “The Mask” resides in. The film slingshots between delightfully nuts fantasy scenes and dull, overly dramatic grounded sequences. Whether the former is worth sitting through for the latter is a matter of opinion. I'm sure “The Mask” is a blast to watch on a big screen, in 3-D, where its fantasy sequences can really be enjoyed at their full potency. Watching at home and flat, it's a frequently slow experience broken up by fantastically surreal moments. If nothing else, it's a defiantly quirky note for the legacy of Canuxploitation to begin with. [6/10]

50 States of Fright: Almost There

Earlier this year, when studios started performing the incredibly scummy move of removing content from streaming services to cut costs, Roku yanked all the content they acquired from the long-since-dead Quibi. This meant promising horror anthology series “50 States of Fright” is now totally unavailable through any legal means. But everything survives in the world of internet piracy. If producers are going to screw over artists just to save a few bucks, then stealing stuff becomes the only way to appreciate certain programs. I enjoyed the previous two episodes of “50 States of Fright” I watched, so decided to look at the Iowa set episode, “Almost There.”

Written and directed by Scott Beck and Bryan Woods – forever categorized in my brain as the “A Quiet Place” guys – “Almost There” starts Taissa Farmiga as Hannah. A young engineer, Hannah is still haunted by memories of her Amish mother, who killed herself and Hannah's sisters by dropping them in front of a moving train. Hannah receives a phone call in the middle of the night from Blake, a mechanic working on a wind turbine. A fire in the control room means the turbine might collapse, forcing Hannah and Blake to ascend the massive structure. This means Hannah must confront her fear of heights and the ghosts from her past. 

When you add “Almost There's'” three parts together, it runs about the length of a normal TV episode. Yet, since “50 States of Fright” was made for Quibi's “quick bites” format, that means it has to establish its story fast. This actually works really well, as it means “Almost There” doesn't waste any time detailing Hannah's past trauma and getting us right into the action. From the opening minutes, we know why Hannah is haunted, why she fears heights, and that she'll have to confront both of them to do her job and save the day. That Farmiga is good at immediately gaining audience sympathy, and establishing a can-do attitude, makes “Almost There” all the more compelling right out of the gate.

“Almost There” also has a hell of a setting. Most of the episode is devoted to a Hannah and Blake climbing up the practically endless ladder in the middle of the turbine. This generates tension right away, as the audience is dangling right alongside the characters over a great height. When things inevitably go right, whether that's from a falling tool or the lights going out, you can't help but flinch. All the more-so when they are accompanied by a grisly sight of a breaking bone. Yet Beck and Woods, following the same formula laid out in their “Haunt,” do give Hannah a triumphant ending... Only after a last minute jump scare and action-packed climax, that admittedly got me. In other words, “Almost There” is pretty good! I wish it was actually available through legal means now and that its creators could be paid for their work. [7/10]

Backwoods (2019)

Here's another more recent short included in Severin's folk horror box set. A fairly close adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft's “The Picture in the House,” the short follows a genealogist traveling through the New England backwoods. After a storm rolls in, he takes shelter in a seemingly unoccupied house. However, he soon discovers that the desolate location does contain one resident: An old man with a long, gray beard and a strange accent. He shows the traveler a very old book. Though the man is illiterate, he still looks at the pictures with rapt attention. These etchings concern cannibalism and arcane rituals. As the man goes on about the particular hunger the images stir in him, the traveler realizes he is in danger.

If you're going to watch “Backwoods,” it will probably help you to read the Lovecraft story first. Ryan Mackfall's short keeps things as vague as possible. The protagonist has no name and the details of why he's in this place or what he's doing are never expounded on. We don't even see the old man's face until the very end. The man's peculiar accent is so thick that it's often tricky to understand what he's saying. The film ditches the deus ex machina ending of Lovecraft's story but doesn't come up with an alternative. Instead, “Backwoods” just kind of stops. What happens to the characters next is certainly heavily implied but it's all up to audience guess work to decide where things actually conclude here. 

What “Backwoods” lacks in clear narrative, it makes up for in atmosphere. The production design and cinematography is very good, quickly establishing a dreary and overcast ambiance. The set-up, of being stuck in an isolated house with a weird old man, does create a certain tension in the viewer. Combining the man's rantings with visual flashbacks weren't necessary, as the briefly glimpsed obscene images in the book tell us all we need to know. It's clear that Mackfall and his team are quite talented and even capable of creating a spooky feeling. Still, “Backwoods” would be better served by actually having an ending. [5/10]

Halloween 2023: October 28th

Suitable Flesh (2023)

Of the horror filmmakers to emerge out of the 2000s, Joe Lynch has never gotten the level of exposure of his contemporaries. The mainstream notoriety of Eli Roth and Rob Zombie or the critical respect of Ti West or Lucky McKee have eluded him. His “Wrong Turn” sequel got the attention of slasher sickos and “Mayhem” was well received by the Shudder crowd. But “Knights of Badassdom” and “Chillerama” were fiascos. (I liked “Everly” but I don't think it was widely seen.) This year, Lynch has come the closest to attracting both cult acclaim and glowing reviews with “Suitable Flesh.” A very loose adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft's “The Thing on the Doorstep,” the film is largely a homage to the Lovecraft adaptations of Stuart Gordon. This is most evident in Barbara Crampton appearing in a supporting role, directly connecting this film to the likes of “Re-Animator” and “From Beyond.”

Dr. Elizabeth Derby has ended up in a mental institution, raving about being pursued. Her close friend, Dr. Daniella Upton, attempts to figure out what brought Derby to this place. A psychiatrist, Derby began impulsively seeing a young man named Asa Waite. Waite claims his elderly father is abusing him and seems to have split personalities, triggered by violent seizures. The boy fascinates Elizabeth and she soon begins a love affair with him, unbeknownst to her dim husband. During sex with Asa, Elizabeth experiences swapping bodies with the boy. She soon realizes that Asa's perverse, manipulative father is a sorcerer who has discovered a way to swap his soul into different bodies. Elizabeth soon finds herself trapped in Asa's body, while the villainous Waite patriarch conspires to take over the doctor's life.

“Suitable Flesh” has been repeatedly referred to as a homage to the disreputable genre of nineties erotic thrillers. Though dismissed as little more than smut at the time, the lack of eroticism and films genuinely made for adults in modern cinema has made a lot of people nostalgic for these faptastic late night potboilers of old. Lynch and cinematographer David Matthews do an admirable job of instantly capturing the look and feel of these films here. There's a soft focus quality to “Suitable Flesh's” images, making the entire movie feel like a misty erotic daydream. The sets and lighting both seem pretty cheap yet there's also stylish camera movements and some nice use of shadows, suggesting an attempt by low-budget filmmakers to capture the look of a classier production. Like those jerk-off movies of days past, “Suitable Flesh” is heavy on the humping and explicit talk but rarely feels actually sexy. The dark plot and exaggerated performances leads the sex to feeling somewhat uncomfortable, despite the obvious titillating appeal. That's an oddly specific mixture to capture so accurately, revealing Lynch and his teams to be real students of this particular subgenre. 

By harkening back to a type of film so closely associated with the nineties, “Suitable Flesh” brings other cast-offs from that decade to mind. Despite the presence of Crampton and Steve Moore's score doing a decent job of aping Richard Band, this doesn't feel much like an Empire Pictures production. What it resembles instead are the films Stuart Gordon made for Full Moon a little while later, like “The Pit and the Pendulum” and “Castle Freak.” You see this in the limited sets, pointing towards the low budget, and the somewhat flat lighting. It looks like a direct-to-video, Charles Band production from the days when that actually meant something. There's no killer puppets or Romanian castles but Lynch does add a rubber monster of a sorts, that doesn't appear in Lovecraft's narrative. Moreover, the movie's dedication to giving the audience some flesh, some blood, and in an attractive and quick-paced package is what most captures the feel of Gordon and Band's best collaborations. And if you doubt its bonafides any further, Brian Yunza is a producer on this one. 

I read “The Thing on the Doorsteps” a very long time ago but remember thinking it was one of Howard Philip's better ones. Even with my vague recollection, I can tell “Suitable Flesh” is a loose adaptation. Most prominently, Lynch's film switches the genders of the lead characters. The protagonist is now female while the lover caught up in a body-swapping scheme is now male. Much like Gordon's Lovecraft films, Lynch mostly just takes the premise of the story and does his own thing with it. (Such as including nods towards Lovecraft's wider mythology.) However, the theme of ancient familial shame being passed – forcibly, like a curse – onto a younger generation is very true to the spirit of Lovecraft's work. While Lovecraft never intentionally invoked the concept of “body horror,” the soul-swapping premise of “Suitable Flesh” presents a tantalizing sense of discomfort with the human form. A lack of ownership over our own bodies, beginning as bone-twisting seizures, connects with the cosmic horror the author was most famous for. If the universe is indifferent to human achievement, than our fleshy skin-suits are definitely not going to obey our wispy, weak souls. Like the best works by and inspired by H.P., “Suitable Flesh” opens up the mind with its far-out ideas. I would love to read a trans person's take on this story.

If Stuart Gordon and his crew had made “Suitable Flesh” back in 1992, Barbara Crampton almost certainly would have starred. Instead, Crampton is in the part of the Lovecraftian narrator, the sane (wo)man who has to listen to her insane friend deliver a tale of sanity-shattering woe. Crampton butches it up with a lot of attitude, proving once again that she's one of those actors who can do anything with nothing. Heather Graham – who starred in a late occurring erotic thriller herself, though she passes the nudity clause onto a body double here – stars as Derby. Graham has a certain shakiness to her, an anxious shade to even her most committed moments, that makes her well-suited to someone swept up in a bizarre conspiracy. Judah Lewis as Asa is the film's real find, as he seamlessly leaps between different personalities, never letting the audience mistakes Asa's actual personality for his possessed side. Everyone does a good job of playing these variant characters. Even if a nicely over-the-top Bruce Davison was probably a replacement for Jeffrey Combs. 

“Suitable Flesh” is never as funny, crazy, or intense as Gordon's classic Lovecraft movies. That is, admittedly, a harsh rubric to grade any film against. The film drags a little in the middle and never quite hits the fever pitch of gory, sexy insanity it's clearly aiming for. Yet Lynch's latest is still highly entertaining, with a well executed and flashy premise, a decent cast, and a watchful eye towards capturing the tone of what came before. Hopefully the relative success of this one will get Lynch some more exposure. He's a quality Twitter and Letterboxd follow and seems like a nice guy. As for “Suitable Flesh,” falling short of all-time classics like “Re-Animator” or “From Beyond” means this is still a pretty juicy cut of meat by any other standard. [7/10]

Vampyres (1974)

Of all the classic monster archetypes, it seems the vampire is the one most amendable to a queer reading. I am referring to, of course, the lesbian vampire subgenre. It's not too difficult to tell why this premise has proliferated so much over the years, after Sheridan le Fanu more-or-less introduced it with “Carmilla.” The vampire, feeding on the sleeping by sucking their blood from a bite in the neck, has an inherently sexual aspect to it that's been unavoidable for years. When the idea of girl-on-girl feeding arises, it adds even more titillation to the premise. One can't avoid certain tendencies in older ages to assign monstrous qualities to queer people, a concept which has been largely reclaimed by those in the LGBT+ community as a badge of mutual societal outersiderdom. But anyway, there's lots of lesbian and bisexual vampire movies out there. One such example is 1974's “Vampyres,” a cult favorite from Spanish director José Ramón Larraz.

Out in the English countryside, resides a stately but abandoned manor. Inside, dwell two mysterious women by the name of Fran and Miriam. The women often lure travelling motorists from the near-by road to the house, where they satisfy their sexual cravings with them... Before satisfying their hunger for blood, slashing their wrists and sucking the life out of them. Ted is one such victim, which Fran takes a particular liking too. (Even though Miriam is also her lover.) John and Harriet are two travelers who spot the girls from the road. Harriet finds herself strangely drawn to the pair and is soon sucked into their world of darkness, sex, and murder. 

From the moment “Vampyres'” grainy visuals begin, I was hooked by it. While Larraz was a Spaniard, “Vampyres” is dripping with foggy, English ambiance. The central home – Oakley Court, a frequent location in Hammer movies – is a dusty and imposing figure in the countryside. The trees entomb the surroundings, the road being the only link to civilization. The interiors of the home are rich with shadows, dust, and cobwebs. A shot of Fran descending into the wine cellar, lighting the way with a candelabra, says it all. The film invites us into a dreamy, gothic netherworld, the realm of bloodsucking beauties like Fran and Miriam. Another review refers to “Vampyres” as a Jean Rollin film played straight, which is an apt description. The film even has a funky, psych-rock score. It really is like someone took away the overt surrealism and campy humor from a Rollin film, leaving a more accessible but no less intoxicating love letter to graveyards and abandoned homes behind. 

Naturally, if you remove the dream logic from a Rollin set-up, you'll basically be left with a porn film. Within seconds of “Vampyres” starting, we're treated to a girl-on-girl love scene. There's literally boobs in the third shot of the film. Marianne Morris and Anulka – Playboy Playmate of May 1973 – are often undressed, among the film's multiple, hairy, sweaty sex scenes. The lovemaking in “Vampyres” is especially mouthy. Ted thrusts his open mouth against Fran's, with lots of tongue action between all the partners. I can't help but feel this was intentional. These vampires seek to consume their victims. They notably don't have fangs. Instead, they cut the men open and suck their blood out the natural way. Late in the film, they lunge towards the camera, mouths agape, as if they are about to consume us too. “Vampyres” is clearly a film of such overwhelming passion that its characters can't help but shove their targets right into their mouths. Or maybe Larraz just had a vore kink, I don't know. 

Puerile titillation is undeniably the goal in “Vampyre,” the camera clearly luxuriating in the bodies on-screen. However, the bisexual lady vampire is a symbol rich with other meanings. Fran and Miriam use men only as objects, fucking, killing, and draining them before discarding them along the side of the road. All the guys, from the surly Ted to a clueless wine connoisseur that appears in the last act, are helpless against their charms. From the moment Harriet sees the women, she can't stop thinking about them. Her uncaring, oblivious husband dismisses her fears and worries, even though he seems more than willing to accept any factoid or conversation from a fellow man. When Miriam and Fran get Harriet alone, they claim to recognize her and beckon her towards them. The lady vampires live in a sexually liberated, matriarchal shadow world and Harriet can clearly see the appeal. It's a shame this idea is thrown away by the film's abrupt, blunt ending. 

“Vampyres'” mix of casual eroticism, potent ideas, and oozing gothic ambiance would naturally make it a favorite of Eurohorror fans. Also unsurprising, the film would often be edited and censored by boards of decency around the globe. Luckily, us perverted Americans have had the uncut version right from the beginning. God bless America and exploitation film distributors. Anyway, “Vampyres” is pretty fun in its sleazy, atmospheric way. Larraz would direct several other notable genre films, even if he's not as well known as his fellow Eurohorror auteurs. Neither of its leading ladies did much other acting, though Marriane Morris was also appeared in the “Beasts” episode I just watched earlier in the month. Yeah, she was the naked girl in that too. [7/10]

The Twilight Zone (2019): The Who of You

Of all the versions of “The Twilight Zone” that I've watched over the years, the 2019, Jordan Peele hosted iteration seems to foreground social commentary and meta twists the most. Yet, even if it rarely lived up to expectations, the show did occasional grab a banger premise. “The Who of You,” from the second season, follows Harry Pine, an out-of-work actor who fears his girlfriend is going to leave him. Desperate after his apartment's power is turned off, he decides to rob the bank. While asking the clerk to hand over the cash, Harry's mind switches bodies with the woman. Shortly after that, he does the same with a cop on the scene. Realizing he's develop a supernatural ability, Harry uses it to escape the cops and hold onto the money. The schemes hits a snag after he leaves the cash in the shop of a sham psychic. The detective on the case, Reece, is slowly figuring out what's going on as well.

We've all wondered what it might be like to walk in someone else's shoes. “The Who of You” runs with this idea, Harry dropping into someone else's body just by looking them in the eyes. When you've suddenly turned to a life of crime, such a superpower also allows you to escape persecution easily. Probably the episode's best moment occurs when the cops start to question Harry, in a random jogger's body. He leaps across several people on a street, until he arrives in the body of an old man entering an apartment building. “The Who of You” doesn't get too deep into the mechanics of its set-up. Whenever Harry switches with someone, the stolen identity goes right back into his body as his mind goes into their's. I guess consciousness swapping across multiple persons, leaving a complex, “Futurama” style web of transferences in its path, might have been too much to ask of for a forty minute show.

Then again, this is “The Twilight Zone,” right? Isn't exploring interesting ideas in unexpected and thought-out ways what it is suppose to do? “The Who of You” doesn't go for much in the way of depth. Instead, it's simply a compelling chase story. We watch Harry switch bodies on his quest to get away from the authorities and hold onto his ill-gotten goods. All the while, he's outrunning the law. He has to think quick on his feet to wiggle out of tight situations. It's a thrilling enough premise to watch unfold. Even if I doubt that Reece would be able to understand what was going on as quickly as he does. Then again, if he didn't, the episode would have missed out on its tidy climax. Perhaps pointing towards some of the lack of ambition in this episode in general.

That Harry never considers the ethical questions around such an ability, and immediately uses it to pursue his own goals, suggests he's not a very good person. Indeed, “The Who of You” almost plays like the origin story of a supervillain. Ethan Embry plays the guy not so much as someone at the end of his rope, as someone looking for an easy way out. (Embry does a good job of assuming the different body languages of whoever is possessing Harry's body at any time.) “The Twilight Zone” being what it is, you're expecting this to build towards an ending where the asshole gets what's coming to him. Instead, the episode includes a twist that the audience sees coming way before the characters in the episode do. It's a disappointing ending to an episode that, even if it lacked much in the way of social commentary or heady ideas, was at least an interesting idea executed in a fairly compelling manner. [6/10]

Viola vs. The Vampire King (2017)

Super-8 film may be a totally outdated format to shoot a movie in. Yet the gritty, lo-fi quality brings a certain charm with it, that has been appreciated in a number of super-low budget, home-grown projects over the years. To the point that even more modern filmmakers have taken advantage of this quality. Such as “Viola Vs. the Vampire King,” a seven minute short shot in 2017 by filmmaker Kevin Fermini. The premise, summed up in the title, goes like so: Viola's sister has been taken by the Vampire King of Spider Web Forest. She heads into the forest, armed with a katana, to get revenge and rescued her sister. The vampire king proves harder to kill than that and Viola will have to seek out help if she hopes to complete this mission. 

I tend to associate Super-8 with monster kids making wacky home movies in their backyard. I suspect Fermini has that association too, as “Viola Vs. the Vampire King” is clearly seeking to capture an unhinged, youthful energy. This is reflected in Viola's girly-girl dialogue and the short's loose plot, that feels like it could've been thought up on the spot. Most importantly, the film adopts a chaotic, highly stylized visual approach. There's colorful overlays over multiple scenes, like the kind of construction paper border you'd expect a kid to cut out. This is combined with some erratic editing and a trippy, reverberating score. Colorful lighting, clearly influenced by Bava, further adds to this highly exaggerated, comic book-like tone. 

The effects are purposely, extremely lo-fi. Halloween decorations are used for props throughout. The entire short is set within a random stretch of forest, which could be anyone's backyard. Crude stop-motion is used, whenever the Vampire King is reassembling himself or melting away into a skeleton. The sound effects are intentionally scratchy, the lighting is washed-out, the film grain is gritty. Yet it's also a lot of fun, going along with this home-made spirit. I'm not surprised that Bleeding Skull, among others, would champion this. It's got heart and energy and that counts for a lot. [7/10]