Halloween 2026: September 22nd

Iron Lung (2026)

Up until very recently, I had no idea what a "Markiplier" was. I had seen the name bandied about in discussions of popular YouTubers and LetsPlayers. However, I don't find watching other people play video games to be that interesting so never investigated further. When I started to see buzz over "Iron Lung," a movie this Markiplier fella had made, I assumed it would be another sloppy vanity project by a random internet celebrity with little actual talent. When "Iron Lung's" release approached earlier this year, the director/writer/star's extensive fan base launched a campaign to expand the initial planned distribution of only 60 theaters to as many as possible. "Iron Lung" would instead play in over 4000 American theaters, a wide release by any estimation, and become a surprise box office hit. A genuine grass roots, independent success like that certainly caught my attention. Then some folks whose opinions I trust stated the movie was actually good too. Once I learned the claim that the film broke the record for most fake blood used in any horror picture was apparently legitimate I had to see it, to maintain genre nerd cred or something. Also my wife wanted to watch it so here we go, diving into "Iron Lung."

In addition to my ignorance about the film's star, I am also unfamiliar with the indie video game it is an adaptation of. This is my best estimation of the plot of "Iron Lung," as far as I could parse it: The story is set in the far future, after mankind has colonized space. Furthermore, it's set after a mysterious apocalypse known as the Quiet Rapture has wiped out most of humanity. On an alien moon covered with a sea of blood, a lone convict has been tasked with piloting a rickety submarine into the red depths. He receives orders from officials above, who are directing him to snap photographs of the ocean floor. It seems he is expected to find something, though is not told what exactly. What he does seem to find is a massive skeleton of an unknown alien life form. If he retrieves part of the bones and brings it to the surface, he'll supposedly be granted his freedom. As the journey goes on, we learn more about the pilot's backstory, the events surrounding the Quiet Rapture, more details about this mission, and that the apparent "skeleton" is actually very much alive. 

Being in unknown territory here myself, I can't truly rate "Iron Lung" as a take on an obscure, lore-heavy video game nor as "the Markiplier movie." However, I am pretty familiar with single location horror films. Considering the popularity of the enclosed space thriller, I'm surprised nobody has tried to make a movie set aboard a tiny submarine before. Certain recent events have shown how perilous such a journey is and it seems like a premise ripe with horror. In that regard, I think "Iron Lung" does a good job. The title comes from the nickname for the sub. It's a fitting description of a cramped, purely industrial vehicle filled with low-tech meters, clunky controls, analog monitors, and glowing buttons. The protagonist's only link to the surface world is a shitty radio speaker. His only peek at what's around him are the flashes captured by that giant x-ray camera, which provide vague hints at best. Save for a few flashbacks, "Iron Lung" rarely leaves this setting. Meaning the viewer is trapped in here too, with only slightly less context than the pilot. The danger becomes apparent immediately, as mechanical warnings hint at a limited oxygen supply and the overall rough quality of the submarine seems destined to fail at any point. Deep sea diving is scary to begin with. "Iron Lung" further ups the stakes by making the dive into a sea of blood, upon an unstable world, aboard a vessel clearly made from whatever materials were available. I don't think the script had to include a Lovecraftian eldritch abomination or the fate of the human race beyond that but it shows "Iron Lung's" commitment to being a claustrophobic horror experience. 

That commitment doesn't mean much if we don't care about the hero or the story though. Alright, so how does this Markiplier guy do as a filmmaker and actor? "Iron Lung" is well shot. Cinematographer Philip Roy manages to make the small space cinematic, without sacrificing how uncomfortable it is for the protagonist. The "used future" aesthetic is clearly indebted to "Alien" but the effects are still well done. Moreover, the low, ominous lighting and threat of blood dripping into the interior keeps things creepy. The blurry photographs we get of whatever is hunting the submarine are effective. They create an impression of a weird, giant, angler fish-like threat while still leaving plenty of room for the imagination to elaborate. The script does a good job of emphasizing how bleak this situation is. By slowly revealing more details about why the pilot is a prisoner, about what he did that was so atrocious, the film creates a properly hopeless feeling. This is a good setting for a story about the human spirit to fight and survive, no matter how uneven the odds. And Mark "Iplier" Fischbach is a functional leading man. He reminds me of a young Keanu Reeves and I mean that as a compliment. I don't know if he sells the depth of emotion and passion the part was calling for. I'm also not sure if he is compelling enough a presence to anchor an entire movie. However, I've also seen way less convincing performances from other would-be auteurs, so kudos for what the guy pulls off. 

The places where "Iron Lung" falls behind a bit are more standard. Namely, narrative coherence and pacing. The movie is over two hours long. This is largely thank to a lengthy sequence in the middle where the pilot is adrift in an unknown cave system, trying to navigate his way out. The film can never make it entirely clear how he figures out exactly where he is or where he is going. It seems to involve a lot of math and lines drawn on a graph. Furthermore, this sequence is also where the protagonist starts to hallucinate, always a dicey way to keep an isolated, mostly single character story moving. These scenes drag the forward momentum of the film down. They also seem to exist mostly to expand on the back story. Despite the extensive peeks we get at what has happened before these events and its ramifications for the rest of the universe, I still didn't have a clear idea of a lot of the plot details until I read a plot synopsis. I think all the things the film does well could have been done without the elaborate sci-fi backstory or far-out alien setting. (Though the cool factor of a "sea of blood" does count for something.) I do think some of these flaws are inherited from a style of source material heavy on "environmental storytelling" and an emphasis on mythos you can fill a fan wiki with. "Five Nights at Freddy's" and its consequences have been a disaster for the horror genre or something. 

Overall, I'm inclined to say my impression of "Iron Lung" is a mostly positive one. Not everything the story wants to get across is clear. However, perhaps that is fitting. As with past low budget homage to Lovecraft, "The Outwaters," I think the audience being as clueless as to what is happening as the protagonist becomes a good way to properly convey the disorientating aspect of cosmic horror. We might have been intended to take away more from "Iron Lung" but what I got is that this is a guy of average intelligence having a deep sea encounter with some bizarre, inhuman intelligence who seems to regard us puny flesh-bags with contempt. A more elaborate update of Howard Phillip's "Dagon," in other words. There's also some grisly body horror effects as the film goes on, the submarine's pipes and steel seemingly being replaced with veins and flesh. That idea is taken to some nicely gruesome places before the end. I didn't understand why all these things were happening but I thought they were interesting. It comes closer than some to capturing what is actually interesting about this subgenre to me. 

If there's been no other lesson we can take away from the horror hits of 2026, it's that we better get used to tomorrow's hot directors starting off as today's Youtuber. I don't know if Fischbach has the technical talent of some of these similar success stories. Mistakes are made here and they are of the type that might be more intrinsic than formal. A guy supported by millions of enthusiastic fans online, instead of fellow editors and artisans making informed decisions, is probably always going to make something that is too long or too invested in its own concepts. At the same time, I have to admire his chutzpah in getting his movie in front of people. If filmmakers wanna leverage the following they've built up through making faces at video game footage, so be it. "Iron Lung" ain't bad and even does some things well. [7/10]

Bridge to Nowhere (1986)

In the Whanganui National Park, of New Zealand's North Island, resides the Mangapurua Gorge and the stream that runs through it. In 1917, the government attempted to turn the surrounding land into farms for soldiers returning home from World War I. In the thirties, a 130 foot long concrete bridge was constructed across the gorge. The intention was to eventually build connecting roads on either side, to create vehicular access to nearby ports. However, the remoteness of the area and the soil's inability to support crops doomed the settlement. Following a major flood in 1942, the project was abandoned altogether. The bush reclaimed the land and consumed most signs that people once lived and worked there... Except for that bridge, which still stands, unlinked to any roads or paths. People call it the Bridge to Nowhere and it's a popular tourist attraction for hikers and mountain bikers. It is also, you might recognize just from the sounds of it, a great location for a horror movie. American screenwriter Bill Baer, producer Larry Parr, and beloved New Zealand character actor Ian Mune thought the same thing. With Mune directing, "Bridge to Nowhere" came together as a modest thriller in 1986. Much like the farmlands that birthed it, the movie has mostly fallen into obscurity save for adventurous types willing to hunt it down. 

Five youths set out for a weekend excursion into the New Zealand wilderness, with the titular bridge being their primary destination. Tanya and her quiet brother, Carl, leave following an argument with their parents. They are joined by Tanya's rowdy boyfriend, Leon, and two additional friends, couple Julia and Gray. The group expects to be alone with nature on this trip but soon discover this is not the case. Mac, an isolated cattle farmer who lives with a much younger girl named Lise, works and lives nearby. After Leon attempts to shoot one of Mac's cows, tensions start to flare between them. After Leon tries to assault Tanya, he flees into the woods and discovers Mac's cabin... And spies on Mac and Lise in a romantic moment. A fight ensues, violence following. Soon, Mac is pursuing Tanya and her friends across the forest. He's determined to eliminate any witnesses to his crime, tracking the kids with his hunting dogs and picking them off one by one with his rifle.

On paper, “Bridge to Nowhere” reads essentially like a hybrid of “Deliverance” and a slasher movie. It has the same set-up, of a group of suburbanites heading into the wilderness for a vacation and running afoul of the locals. Mac is not quite a depraved hillbilly type. At first, I thought Lise might be his daughter, which would've made the revelation of their sexual relationship fit that stereotype. Instead, apparently they are just a couple with a visible age gap. Meanwhile, the cast of characters are all youths, still navigating their identities and social boundaries. Essentially, the film sticks characters you could find in “Just Before Dawn” or “Without Warning” into a “Hunter's Blood” or “Southern Comfort” type scenario. Having man revert to his savage nature out in the wilderness is a gimmick that usually works for me. When set among the especially scenic New Zealand landscapes, it makes for an even nicer contrast. The verdant woods and cascading leaves truly ups the feeling of isolation here. 

While “Bridge to Nowhere” superficially resembles the set-up of a slasher movie, it's not paced like one. The film takes its time before the danger becomes apparent. Mac doesn't begin to cut the teens down until about half-way through the film. It's a little while longer before the kids realize they are in danger. The stalking scenes are devoted more to the guy's (adorable) dogs trailing the kids as they attempt to put distance between them and their threat. The result is a film that slowly ramps up the tension, the situation growing more desperate before the youths and their hunter come to blows. This slow increase of suspense is furthered by the murderer mostly using a rifle as his weapon of choices. That gives him the advantage of distance and surprise, making the teens seemed more actively endangered than in your usual Jason flick. By the time the last man standing goes hand-to-hand with their pursuer, “Bridge to Nowhere” successfully reaches a frantic pitch. 

Rather than have a final girl, like most body count flicks, “Bridge of Nowhere” has a Final Boy. Matthew Hunter plays Carl, as a stoic and sensitive type who is more interested in observing than acting. He has the arc, of a shy and unassuming youth who has to rise to the occasion and fight off the attacker. That choice also points to the somewhat understated nature of the film's writing. The script does not develop all its cast members equally. Gray and Julia are indistinct hanger-ons, never quite emerging as anything other than The Other Ones. Leon and Tanya, meanwhile, spend a bit more time than is appreciated screaming at each other. That Mac and his dysfunctional relationship with Lise are the most interesting characters in the film is probably another example of the unbalanced writing here. Bruno Lawrence plays the man with a steely quality that makes his actions, no matter how rash, seem calculated and reasonable. Meanwhile, Alison Routledge as Lise seems to be prone to mental instability. I found myself wanting to know more about what the hell the exact dynamic between these two was. 

I'm not sure the film is too interested in women. Leon is introduced stealing a rifle from his dad's gun vault, as if firearms are totems of masculine power. When him and Gray first find a swimming hole, they strip off their clothes and leap in, whangs flopping around. Later, they trick Carl – who is introduced shirtless and wears a mesh shirt – into taking a fart right to the face. Yes, there is a bit of casual homoeroticism at play. I don't think this is merely an example of an eighties movie accidentally bending towards queer subtext. To contrast against Carl's calm, perhaps even submissive nature, Leon is a hyper-sexual braggart. He is also pushing forward into wilder displays of courage, as if he's eager to prove his bravery and worth. When he gets a young woman all alone, his instinct do not veer toward romance but violence. Is “Bridge to Nowhere” making some sort of statement about toxic masculinity? I'm inclined to say yes, which makes the decision to not play the villain as some sort of raging, egregiously macho type an odd one. Mac is rustic and virile but not in a way that especially contrasts with Leon's teen boy insecurities or Carl's unassuming softness. 

In other words, “Bridge to Nowhere” is not a perfectly constructed and concise thrills machine. It is unevenly paced, with a cast that isn't fully realized, and unfulfilled ideas at its margins. At the same time, there's a humbleness at play here that can't help but charm me. The novelty of the location goes a long way, as does the natural isolation of the beautiful scenery. The film sets out with modest expectations, knowingly utilizing well-worn genre frameworks, and does a good job playing within that field. The film goes to credits almost immediately after the climax, suggesting to me that the filmmakers were well aware that this was destined to be a bite-sized, relaxed gem and not a blockbuster super-smash. That's just fine with me and I would recommend this one, to horror dorks who need something they probably haven't seen that is well executed but also won't demand their attention too closely. [7/10]

Tales from the Darkside: The Odds

This has been a hard year for fans of cult cinema and television. Unfortunately, enough time has passed that beloved performers of the eighties and nineties are starting to pass away. Among one of the notable names to shuffle off this mortal coil was the great Tom Noonan, whose height and off-beat aura saw him cast as many villains in beloved films. He also did TV sometimes, such as a memorable early episode of “Tales from the Darkside.” “The Odds” concerns Tommy Vale, a bookie who never turns down a bet and, accordingly, never turns down battering those that fail to pay up. A mysterious tall man in a white hat appears in his bar one day. He makes improbable bets that, somehow, always pay off. Tommy's buddy, who is always tinkering with a chiming electronic calculator, says the man resembles Bill Lacey. That was an old customer of Vale's, who took a still unsolved dive off a bridge not that long ago. Shortly after the suspicion that this could be Lacey's grown son, or the man himself returned from the grave for revenge, the visitor makes another bet: That Tommy Vale will be dead by eight o'clock tonight.

“The Odds” is not an episode wide in scope. The entire story takes place in Tommy Vale's bar and there's only three or four characters. It's a tale from the dark side without any monsters. The supernatural elements are subtle and could be considered ambiguous. Despite that, it is a compelling half-hour of television. That's largely because of the two actors playing against each other here. In one corner, we have Mr. Noonan, putting on an outrageous guideo accent. He smiles like he knows a secret and has an ideal twinkle of sinister intent in his eyes. It's an proper use of Noonan's unique star power. Opposite him is another great character actor, Danny Aiello. This is the exact type of tough guy, Mafia-adjacent role that Aiello specialized in. With simply a look or a particular line read, he summons up a cock-sure intelligence or a calculating exactness. He never raises his voice but prove a threatening presence nevertheless.

Watching these two bounce off each other is worthwhile. When the ghostly element appears, I really like how casually Aiello accepts it. Like the E.C. Comics that inspired “Tales from the Darkside,” this is a story of a crooked bastard getting what's coming to him. Like the fairy tales and folk stories that inspired those comics, it's also a riff on a common storytelling idea. Namely, that you cannot cheat the devil out of what he's owed. The twist ending of “The Odds” comes right before the end credits, the episode really making you wait for that pay-off. It's a satisfying conclusion, albeit one heavily foreshadowed. Despite that and its humble resources, this is a good “Tale.” It's also a fitting tribute to Noonan and Aiello's talents, two performers who could do a lot with very little. [7/10]

Friday the 13th: The Series: The Baron's Bride

I don't know how much Frank Mancuso Jr. and the gang cared about specific episode milestones. However, the production team did whip up something kind of special for the thirteenth episode of “Friday the 13th: The Series.” “The Baron's Bride” begins with a guy name Frank inquiring about a room for rent in a stately old mansion. The hostess keeps mentioning her late husband and leaves an old cape with an ornate jewel on it out in the room, which Frank is compelled to try on. This is the object Ryan, Micki, and Jack are seeking this week, an old baron's cape said to make the wearer irresistible to women. There's more though, because the homeowner is... A vampire! She bites Frank before the Curious Goods trio burst into the room. The now vampiric, cape-wearing renter grabs Ryan and Miki and finishes saying the incantation the vampiress was speaking a minute ago. This sends all three of them back in time to 1860s England. Now they have to stop a vampire killer on the loose in Whitechapel and figure out how to get home. Oh yeah, Miki is also starting to fall under the cape's allure. The gang gets assistant from a Scottish author named Abraham and Caitlin, whose true identities should be easy enough to guess...

Yes, “The Baron's Bride” is “Friday the 13th: The Series”” homage to “Dracula.” Not only Stoker's novel either. The minute the setting shifts back in time to Victorian London, the episode switches to black-and-white. This is not simply an example of the colors being de-saturated. Cinematographer Rodney Charters and director Bradford May were clearly fans of the classic Universal Monster movies. (May was previously the D.P. on “The Monster Squad,” so this is not surprising.) The shadows are very deep and dark, accented by moody grays. There's a fair bit of fog and shots of the vampire lurking around the urban back alleys. Some ambiance taken from Tod Browning and Karl Freund is not the only classic horror throwback here. Frank looks more like Langella's Dracula in his cloak but, upon removing the cape, his hands become elongated claws and his face takes a rat-like visage, “Nosferatu” style. In general, this is a slightly freakier vampire than your usual bloodsucker, fangs longer and mouth wider than a demure Dracula. 

Beyond the strong visuals and nods to old monster movies, I also enjoy how this episode's premise keeps escalating. You assume it's going to be an average “Friday the 13th,” simply about a cursed piece of evening wear reeking havoc. That's before the introduction of straight-up vampires, a supernatural threat previously not established in this universe and unrelated to the usual demonic knickknacks. And then the gang is shot back in time, another gimmick tossed atop this set-up. Simply dropping Ryan and Micki into a new setting is fun. Robey being enthralled by a vampire allows her to broaden her acting a bit, getting to be a femme fatale in a scene or two. The true identity of “Abraham” is immediately obvious the minute I heard his accent. Eighties genre TV loved secret origin stories like this. Also, I continue to be surprised by how gory this show was allowed to get, as its stakes through the hearts are bloodier than anticipated. Bradford May would go on to direct the lame “Darkman” sequels, which would've benefit from some of this classic horror energy. [7/10]

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]