Halloween 2025: September 15th

 

Together (2025)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

The Black Cat (1981)
Gatto nero

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beasts: The Dummy

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

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

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

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

The Addams Family: Morticia's Dilemma

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

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

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

Halloween 2024: October 2nd

Apartment 9A (2024)

Natalie Erika James's "Relic" was one of the first movies to come out in the wake of "Hereditary" and "The Witch" that actively seemed to be riding the same wave. The difference between that one and many of the other pictures in the "elevated horror" style is that "Relic" was actually a good horror film and not merely a maudlin drama with some jump scares welded on. When it was announced that James had her next film lined-up, a mysterious project called "Apartment 7A," I was intrigued. Details were kept secret as it moved through production until it slipped, shortly after filming wrapped, that "Apartment 7A" had been a prequel to "Rosemary's Baby" all along. We had fallen for the ol' "The Woods/Blair Witch" dodge again, which at least explained the lack of details about the story up to that point. I don't think we needed a follow-up to "Rosemary's Baby," as previous attempts to do so proved, but I assumed a talented director like James had a fresh angle on the idea. "Apartment 7A" then sat on a shelf for two years before dropping on Paramount+ recently, amid middling reviews and zero hype. It would seem producers still can't capitalize on Ira Levin and Roman Polanski's classic. Because I dug "Relic" so much, I decided to give it a look anyway. 

In 1965, dancer Terry Gionoffrio moves to New York City with dreams of being a star on Broadway. She seems on her way when she badly shatters her ankle during a performance. After healing up, she tries to impress at auditions but can't secure a job. Desperate, and developing a painkiller addiction, she shows up at producer Alan Marchand's apartment building. There, she catches the eyes of Minnie and Roman Castavet, a kindly elderly couple. They offer her an apartment and quickly get her a date with Alan. It would seem Terry's luck is turning around, as she gets cast in a big production and misfortune befalls her rival. At the same time, she begins to have disturbing nightmares and see weird stuff around the building. That's when Terry realizes two things: First off, she has been the target of a Satanic conspiracy and, secondly... She's pregnant. 

An early scene in "Apartment 7A" convinced me that it might actually be good. At an audition, Terry is identified as the girl who broke her ankle on stage and commanded to perform the pivotal dance move over and over again. Afterwards, Alan essentially asks her if she's willing to humiliate herself for success. Anybody watching "Apartment 7A" knows that the kindly old couple have ulterior motives. Terry suspects that their offers may be too good to be true as well. She stills takes them up on it, because she's desperate. When Alan gives her a part in the play after that seemingly sleep together, Terry feels lousy about it... But she still takes the part. In these moments, "Apartment 7A" outlines how a patriarchal society sets up a structure of control designed to debase and manipulate women. Participating in this system is a deal with the devil. (Literally in this case.) What other choice does Terry have though? By the time she realizes what is actually happening, it's too late. She's caught up in this system too. It's an interesting idea, one that expands on the points of "Rosemary's Baby." That James has Terry bring drugged before she's assaulted makes me wonder, perhaps, if "Apartment 7A" isn't a self-critical reaction to the original film or, at least, the man who directed it. 

There's other signs that James and her team know what they are doing. "Apartment 7A" is a good looking movie, with opulent costumes, lovely sets, and cinematography that is both warm and claustrophobic. You get the impression that James really wanted to direct a musical. The film delights in the stylized visuals and swooping camera movements of the genre whenever Terry is performing on-stage. The highlight of the film is a full-on Bugsy Berkeley style dance scene fantasy. James isn't ignorant on how to engineer some scares too. That dance sequence climaxes with a glittery faced monster appearing, a decent shock. Similarly, a moment when Terry looks down to see monstrous hands wrapped around her waist is an example of a jump scare done correctly. A sequence where an old woman with a pair of oversized scissors attacks Terry at night is the moment most similar to "Relic," the director operating in familiar territory for them with some skill. While "Apartment 7A" can never match the intensity of Polanski's original, its better moments do capture something of a sense of that film's paranoia and a conspiracy closing in on our heroine, especially during a pivotal haircut scene. 

To take the dance metaphor further... James and her team know the steps but can't quite nail the spirit of the work. "Apartment 7A" makes the classic mistake of showing us too much. In the same year as "The First Omen," another pregnancy centric prequel to a demonic classic, created some surprisingly startling scares, "Apartment 7A" ends up feeling far hokier instead. It would seem the Satanic infant Terry is carrying has some sort of magical powers. It bends her bitchy rival's body into a pretzel and keeps anyone from harming it. The original "Rosemary's Baby" operated with subtly, thoroughly putting us in the mind frame of Rosemary to the point where we could wonder if it wasn't all in her head, despite all of us knowing what the movie is about. The devil's offspring having telekinetic powers kind of spoils that, ya know? The prequel makes a bigger mistake later on, clearly showing us the demonic father of Terry's baby, a moment so wrong-headed that a corporate exec must have insisted upon it. Ultimately, "Apartment 7A" can't stop itself from following too closely in the footsteps of the film it's connected too. The prequel has a very similar structure to the original, at times feeling more like a remake than a follow-up. This eventually results in the movie limply reprising iconic moments from the original, feeling like desperate attempts to get a reaction out of the audience when we already have a clear idea of where all of this is headed. Besides, "Apartment 7A" leading right into the events of "Rosemary's Baby" means its story can truly only end one way. This satanic conspiracy is destined to fail in a way that's all too evident from early on, a structure the script makes no attempt to swerve away from. 

All of this is a shame since there's more than one suggestion that "Apartment 7A" could have been good. Aside from the decent cinematography and production design, a fine cast is assembled here. Julia Garner makes for a likable heroine, getting a lot of dramatic tension out of Terry feeling both lucky for the circumstances she finds herself in and increasingly trapped by them. When the girl expresses herself through dance is when the viewer feels most connected to Terry. Dianne Wiest manages to make Minnie, a little old woman with a high-pitched voice, into a surprisingly intimidating figure. How she can make an innocent sounding sentence surprisingly pointed and painful with merely her delivery gives you the impression that the writer/director is more than familiar with the power of guilting, manipulative mother. (When paired with "Relic," it suggests a good deal of mommy issues on the director's behalf.) In a film less beholden to following the template created by its predecessor, Garner and Wiest easily could have elevated the material into a fine horror picture. 

Unfortunately, "Apartment 7A" is ultimately a dud, a pale imitation of the classic it is linked too. It is another example of a decades-later sequel that operates more like a remake at times, dooming itself to follow a path we've traveled before without innovating in any way. While "Relic" had surprisingly well engineered scares, this film sees James falling victim to many of the same lame hallmarks of modern studio horror flicks, which turns up the volume and throws in weak attempts at freaky nightmare imagery when it has no other ideas. In other words, the film lacks the conviction that "Rosemary's Baby" had, not trusting its viewer enough and too eager to simply do what worked before. I guess a prequel is better than a remake – which is what Platinum Dunes first wanted to do back in 2008 – but "Apartment 7A" ultimately gives us an idea of what a modern day attempt to remake "Rosemary's Baby" would look like. In other words, it's not scary and ends up being kind of boring and goofy. Maybe Natalie Erika James should have made a full-blown musical instead. Like many attempts to follow-up an iconic original, "Apartment 7A" is destined to be a footnote, forgotten by all but the most committed horror fans while the original continues to be a classic for all time. [5/10]

Ænigma (1987)

Of all the directors to find a career in the proud Italian industry of ripping off bigger budget movies or cashing in on cinematic trends, Lucio Fulci is definitely among the most respected. His die hard fans might be unwilling to accept this but it's undeniably true. "Zombi 2" was a bootleg sequel to "Dawn of the Dead." "Conquest" followed in "Conan the Barbarian's" footsteps. "Warriors of the Year 2072" was inspired by "The Road Warrior." "Massacre Time" and "The Psychic" were part of whole waves of spaghetti westerns and gialli. Fulci himself was not above admitting what more famous films he was copying. He acknowledged 1987's "Ænigma" as inspired by "Carrie." The film also clearly took some elements from "Patrick" and Argento's "Phenomena." Being obvious copycats is probably why later period Fulci work like this or "Manhattan Baby" aren't as discussed as widely as his earlier stuff. Still, this one had enough of a positive reputation to intrigue me...

Kathy, a bullied outcast at St. Mary's all-girls academy in Boston, is the victim of a cruel prank. Handsome gym teacher Steve pretends to go on a date with her, before a group of girls come out to mock her. Kathy flees and is struck by a car, falling into a coma afterwards. Shortly after that, a new girl named Eva arrives at the school. Strange events follow, Kathy's tormentors falling victim to bizarre accidents. The philandering Dr. Anderson investigates, falling for Eva in the process. Slowly, people start to realize that Kathy, in her comatose state, has developed telepathic powers, possessing Eva and taking psychic revenge on her bullies. 

If a lot of Italian horror movies can be criticized as being nothing but a series of stylized death scenes, Fulci's work is probably most guilty of that. I've always gotten the impression that narrative coherence was of least concern to him. That designing grisly and frequently dream-like Grand Guignol set pieces were what interested him the most about his horror films. If this is true, then "Ænigma" provided a rare chance for Fulci to essentially abandon story logic and focus entirely on weird ways to kill people. There doesn't seem to be any limit to Kathy's psychic powers. She can possess Eva, seemingly take control of her disabled mother, project elaborate visions into her victim's minds, manifest objects into reality, and control the physical nature of things. This results in elaborate, nightmarish scenarios, the bullies psychologically tormented before being offed. Sometimes, these visions are ironic. Such as when the narcissistic gym instructor is strangled by his own reflection. Others play on the girls' phobias. Sometimes, Fulci is simply having fun with the setting. My personal favorite scene in "Ænigma" has one of the girls wandering a classical museum, blood spraying at her from a painting of a heavenly scene. She's later dispatched when a Greek statue leaps to life, representing one of the few times "Ænigma" actually manages to build some suspense out of an overall hallucinatory tone. 

The movie often swings back and forth between tones that are artistic, cruel, and campy. When Eva arrives at the school, a stylishly lit scene follows, making it clear that her and Kathy are one and the same. The finale takes place in an isolated morgue, with marble walls and floors, a set that Argento would've envied. There's some cool shots from the perspective of Kathy's spirit while it floats above the town. The locations – the Bosnian city of Sarajevo standing in for Boston – and an at times ethereal score do provide a fittingly dreamy feeling. Other times though, "Ænigma" is nothing but low-brow cheesiness. The opening scene, where Kathy gets ready for her big date, is scored to a painfully schmaltzy pop song. The plot point of her mother being disabled in some way, lurking around the school with glowing red eyes, leads to some groan-worthy dialogue. One of the climatic death scenes features an obvious dummy tumbling from a window, proceeded by a repetitive montage of decapitated bodies laying in bed. No scene in "Ænigma" is more notorious than when one of Kathy's victims has a living nightmare of snails covering her body. Recalling the spider attack in "The Beyond," she lays totally still as the slow, slimy invertebrates cover her naked form, eventually smothering her to death. Maybe Fulci had simply ran out of creepy crawlies to feature by this point. Perhaps he saw "Slugs" and decided he had to one-up it. Either way, it's a laugher of a scene. 

The mean-spirited atmosphere of Fulci's work is what has kept me from getting more into him in the past. "Ænigma," perhaps, seeks to resolve this issue by making all the characters deeply unlikable. Kathy's targets are mostly mean girl victimizers who, within the twisted moral universe of a horror film, "deserve" the ghastly fates that befall them. We don't feel bad rooting for these people to die, as they show no remorse for pranking a fellow student so badly, she's in a coma now. At the same time, this approach leaves us with no one to root for. Kathy herself spends 90% of the movie unconscious and her revenge is so twisted that it's hard to relate to her. The girls school seems to be a university but the attendees act a lot like teenagers. That does little to make all the male characters, happy and willing to hook up with the youthful students, seem like anything but sleaze balls. The gym teacher – who hits on and sexually harasses his students, in addition to happily fooling Kathy in the first scene – is obviously unlikable. I'm not sure how Dr. Anderson, with his receding hairline, is meant to be any better, considering he woes two teenage girls throughout the film. Even if the girls are over 18, that's still sketchy behavior. If he's meant to be our hero, the film dedicating a steamy nightmare scene to a naked Eva clawing and biting him seems to suggest he deserves a ghastly fate as well. 

When paired with an abrupt and typically Fulci-ian downbeat ending, "Ænigma" does nothing to discard my theory that most of the director's films are about providing sadistic punishments for unlikable characters. The unsteady mixture of cruelty, grindhouse sleaze, and late eighties cheesiness – there are so many crash-zooms – does not make this the most even-handed of his films. However, the dreamy vibes and cartoonish touches makes the film's ridiculousness and nihilistic writing a bit easier to swallow. Long since disregarded as minor Fulci, "Ænigma" does provide some stuff to chew on for fans of the director and of exploitation nonsense such as this. I can't dislike any movie that features an ominous shot of a snail oozing over a poster of Sylvester Stallone. To me, that is cinema, despite the movie around it is as uneven as can be. Amazingly, this isn't the only sleazy Italian horror flick inspired by "Patrick" but that, my friend, is a story for another day... [6/10]

Amazing Stories: The Amazing Falsworth

Of the various high-profile directors to work on "Amazing Stories," I don't know if Peter Hyams would be anyone's first choice. I'm a fan though and decided to check out his episode, "The Amazing Falsworth." The city is being stalked by a murderer known as the Keyboard Killer, who strangles his victims with piano wire. After a homeless man spots him while garroting a woman, the unidentified murderer ducks into a night club. There, a stage psychic named the Amazing Falsworth is performing his act. He wears a blindfold, goes into the audience, touches people's shoulders and tells them about their lives. When he brushes against the murderer, Falsworth gets a vision of the killings and becomes terrified. He attempts to report the evidence to the cops, who are incredulous. A prickly detective arrives as Falsworth fears for his life and tries to identify the Keyboard Killer before he finds him first. 

The opening shot of "The Amazing Falsworth" is a prowling view of a woman exiting a hotel and walking down a dark alley. A killer wearing black gloves stalks her, his face unseen. The subsequent murder scene focuses on her terror and continues the stylized lighting and cinematography of the episode. Falsworth later unravels the killer's identity through unconventional means that involve the arts, before a tense confrontation in a closet. In other words: "The Amazing Falsworth" is a giallo. As if you had any doubt about this intentional homage, the last act reveals the killer has a passion for Italian opera. And now that I think about it, the inciting incident might've been inspired by "Deep Red." 

Hyams – and screenwriter Mick Garris, no doubt – do a good job of imitating Argento too. Cinematographer Robert M. Stevens uses cool blues and moody reds in the backstage scenes. The attack scenes are quite tensely assembled, often focusing on the characters' terrified faces. The final confrontation, probably inspired by "Halloween," is surprisingly suspenseful. Gregory Hines makes for a fine lead, making Falsworth's number of ex-wives and his overall sweaty demeanor charmingly pathetic. It's easy enough to guess the true identity of the killer, though the reveal is still well done. Overall, I didn't expect an episode of "Amazing Stories," usually more whimsical, to be this tense. Also, this is the second murder mystery from 1985 to feature a singing telegram. What was up with that? [8/10]

The Addams Family: Thing is Missing

The writers of "The Addams Family" managed to find a story to tell about the least mobile character on the show. "Thing Is Missing" begins with the titular hand and Uncle Fester having a hair brush related spat. Afterwards, the handy helper seemingly vanishes. After Gomez interrogates members of the family, a ransom note appears. This leads to the Family hiring a private detective named Sam Diamond to deliver the funds. 

"Thing Is Missing" is a sturdy episode full of multiple fantastic gags. Such as Morticia being surprised when Gomez gives her a squeeze or Fester practicing his safe-cracking talent. Gomez's detective moment, including a deerstalker cap and oversized pipe, leads to amusing defensive remarks from Wednesday and Granmama. Sam Diamond, played by Tommy Farrell, is better than your usual "Addams Family" guest star because of how well his cowardly behavior contrasts with the hardboiled detective get-up. In fact, interactions with outsiders provide some good chuckles here. When the family puts a want ad in the paper for a "Thing," a guy brings them some hard-to-describe fuzzy object that the Addams naturally love. Earlier, Morticia attempts to explain to a cop what exactly Thing is, leading to much confusion on his behalf. 

It is a question worth asking though. "Thing Is Missing" continues to playfully expand the mystery of what the disembodied hand's precise nature is. It's shown in this episode that the boxes Thing emerges from are connected to long, seemingly bottomless tunnels. Later, however, it's suggested that Thing can fit in the glove compartment of the family car. Thing's legal name is Thing T. Thing, so he's not a full-blooded Addams, and his parents were also disembodied hands. Of all the pop culture things out there, I'm beginning to think this is the most accurately named. Either way, this episode shows how expressive a mere hand can be, if he's successfully a beloved member of this cast now. [7/10]

Halloween 2023: October 15th

Don't Torture a Duckling (1972)

Non si sevizia un paperino

When you look at the excessively gory horror films that would truly make Lucio Fulci a cult favorite among the Fangoria crowd, it's not surprising that Fulci's work frequently generated controversy. It wasn't always that way though. For the first decade of his directorial career, Lucio mostly made comedies. His first brush with controversy happened in 1971, when the fake dog corpses in “Lizard in a Woman's Skin” had him accused of animal cruelty. His next giallo, “Non si sevizia un paperino,” would barely be released in Europe due to its anti-Catholic Church themes. The movie wouldn't see a U.S. release at all until 1999, when Anchor Bay put it out on DVD under the title “Don't Torture a Duckling.” Since then, it has become regarded as one of Fulci's best films.

Accendura is, in many ways, a typical small Italian town. Young boys get into mischief, despite the local priest doing his best to keep them occupied. Rumors abound about a woman living on the edge of town, some calling her a witch. A young, sexy city slicker named Patrizia has moved in and is gaining attention. When a child is found murdered, it shakes up the entire community. The town idiot is blamed for the crime but, when another boy is killed, it's clear that a serial murderer is active. Big city reporter Andrea Martelli arrives to investigate, teaming up with Patrizia to dig into the town's hidden secrets... Yet the killings continue, more young boys being found dead. Who could be responsible for something so ghastly? 

Unlike most gialli, that are set in Rome or other big cities, “Don't Torture a Duckling” sets itself in the Italian countryside. With that change in setting comes an indictment of small town hypocrisies. People out there still believe in magic and witchcraft. Guys sneak off to spend time with prostitutes. Yet the seediest element seen in Accendura is a decidedly unwholesome fixation on young boys. The precocious kids are curious about sex, peeping on the hookers. When one of the boys walks in on Patrizia sunbathing, he's fascinated and she's a little too flirtatious. The boys being murdered seems to be a manifestation of a similar form of lust. When the perpetrator is revealed, it's clear that “Don't Torture a Duckling” is criticizing an especially vile – and common – form of small town evil. Fulci's film shows that communities, in isolation, will think up all sorts of excuses to justify and rationalize horrible actions. 

Lucio Fulci would become well-known, later in his career, for the dread-filled, cramped interiors and especially the gory violence of his horror movies. Though “Don't Torture a Duckling” would mark the beginning of the director's move towards the macabre, these instincts are still evident. The rooms of the film all seem dark and small, as if there's little oxygen left for anyone to breathe inside them. Fulci focuses in on the sweaty, panicked faces, furthering these feelings. While the murder of the boys are largely kept off-screen, “Don't Torture a Duckling” still features some graphic violence. The disturbing highlight of the film is when the townsfolks confront the accused witch in a cemetery and beat her brutally with a chain, to the inane chatter of pop songs on the radio. It's a moment possessed of the same visceral malice that would make Fulci's later zombie flicks so disturbing. 

“Don't Torture a Duckling” is a frequently unsettling, even subversive motion picture. Yet it's also still a low budget thriller from 1972. For all the moments when Fulci's direction is effective, there are multiple moments when it's tacky. There's several distracting crash zooms. The final minutes of the film features an unconvincing dummy falling off a cliff. Mostly, the plot is an unorganized mess. The script throws out countless red herrings, all of them being discarded once they've been disproved. There's a minor subplot about Patrizia having fled Milan because of mysterious drug issues. The characters are never really fleshed-out, with Tomas Milan's hero being a generic hot shot reporter. The killer's motivation is provided to us minutes after their identity is revealed. 

By the way, that bizarre title comes from a Donald Duck doll having a small role in the last third. I guess the dead boys are symbolic ducklings are well. If a style master like Argento had directed “Don't Torture a Duckling,” it would be easier to overlook the shaky narrative, underwritten characters, and cheesier special effects. Fulci isn't that strong of a visualist though. Yet the seedy darkness of the film is still compelling, especially when it turns its viciousness on the small town institutions that protect such cruelty. I can still see why “Don't Torture a Duckling” has been re-evaluate so highly by Fulci scholars. It's not as relentlessly nihilistic as his later films, while still featuring some of the strong venom that is uniquely Fulci. [7/10]

The Lawnmower Man (1992)

Being among the most popular writers of the last forty years, Stephen King's name has been attached to a lot of movies. Most of these films at least proclaim to be adaptations of King's words. By the time you reach “Children of the Corn 7” or “The Mangler 3,” it's fair to say that any connection to King's actual writing is vague... But at least the general ideas originated with him. Out of all the half-assed King adaptations, only one has been so loosely connected to the man's work that he actually sued to have his name taken off the poster. That would be 1992's “The Lawnmower Man,” an oddball piece of cyberpunk-scrambled camp that claimed to be inspired by King's 1975 short story about a satyr with green pubes and a murderous lawnmower. When it leaked that New Line simply slapped the title on an unrelated screenplay, that was the final straw (or blade of grass?) for Uncle Steve. Yet, in the intervening three decades, “The Lawnmower Man” has found a cult following of its own as a peculiar artifact of the nineties' cultural fascination with virtual reality. 

Dr. Lawrence Angelo is using drugs and virtual reality technology to expand the intelligence of chimpanzees, in services of a military contractor the Shop. When one ape escapes, kills a security guard, and gets gunned down, Dr. Angelo quits the project. He soon befriends Jobe, a mentally disabled gardener. He continues the experiments on Jobe, injecting him with brain-boosting drugs and strapping him into a VR simulator for hours. Soon, Jobe's intelligence begins to expand. He becomes smart, and then brilliant... Before Jobe realizes he can move objects with his mind. Now a god among men, Jobe becomes determined to rule over Earth and cyberspace. Dr. Angelo has to stop the monster he created before it's too late.

Brett Leonard's “Lawnmower Man” – as opposed to King's “Lawnmower Man,” which shares exactly one moment with this movie – is another variation on the classical Frankenstein premise. Like all cinematic mad scientist, Dr. Angelo is only focused on “could,” not so much on “should.” He thinks of himself as advancing the human race and only begins to regret his rash actions after Jobe develops superpowers and a God complex. Of course, his studies are being used for war training from the beginning, as the Shop has trained Rosco the Chimpanzee in a swirling first-person shooter. While Angelo – played with a sweaty self-seriousness by Pierce Brosnan – does realize his mistake eventually, he still emerges as the movie's hero. This perverts the traditional sci-fi/horror moral of the mad scientist getting his just dessert for meddling in God's domain. Instead, “The Lawnmower Man” is the story of someone irresponsibly unleashing an omniscient entity on the world and their half-hearted repenting. 

Of course, this particular “monster” isn't stitched together from dead body parts. Instead, “The Lawnmower Man” is a rather hilarious depiction of someone with mental disabilities. Jobe is depicted, not as a complex human being with many facets, but as a child-like simpleton. At first, he can't tell the difference between reality and comic books, mistaking the chimpanzee for his favorite superhero. He plays games with a neighbor's young son. Despite his limited intelligence, Jobe is a savant with lawnmower technology. The fact that he's seduced by a woman next door, his sexuality awoken, further shows that “The Lawnmower Man” considers its titular character to be some cartoonish, half-human caricature. When paired with Jeff Fahey's goofy performance – almost absolutely an inspiration for Ben Stiller's “Simple Jack” performance in “Tropic Thunder” –  the result is the kind of highly patronizing depiction of neurodivergent people that are all too common in the media. 

Despite its derivative script and hopelessly simple characters, “The Lawnmower Man” is a movie of massive unearned pretensions. Jobe's name is just the first of many references to Christianity. He has a crucifix above his favorite lawnmower, some mangled literalization of “God in the machine” before the cyper-space finale takes it further. His brother is a priest, who insists on flagellating Jobe himself.  Anytime Jobe logs into the digital world, symbols from Kabbalah and demonology literally flash on-screen. This is alongside all sorts of cyberpunk themes that were common at the time, like transhumanism and the boundaries between reality and technology. That “The Lawnmower Man” is attempting to invest itself with such high-minded themes is quite funny, as this is a standard-parts revenge movie in many ways. Once he has superpowers, Jobe takes revenge on those that have tormented him. This manifests as extremely cheesy scenes of a lawnmower leaping across a room to chew an abusive asshole up or goof-ball mind control.

The truth is none of these elements are what people remember “The Lawnmower Man” for today. Instead, the film's hopelessly dated CGI effects is what has made this a so-bad-it's-good cult classic. Looking back on it now, there's a certain charm to the computer generated hemorrhoids that make-up so much of “The Lawnmower Man.” The attempts to replicate human faces with Sega CD level graphics are hysterically hideous. (Yes, there was a video game adaptation on that very console.) This is especially true of the film's final act, which heavily features a showdown in cyberspace. The searing colors, weightless environments, and crude graphics all root this version of the future to the early nineties. When combined with a script that typically believes virtual reality could do anything, the result is a frequently hilarious camp artifact. I mean, shit, the movie starts with a monkey in a body suit spinning in a gyroscope. Whether in meatspace or cyberspace, that is hilarious. 

By the way, the subplot involving Bosko the Chimp is only present in the two hour and twenty-minute director's cut, something that inexplicably exists. Honestly, a super-chimp in a latex diaper, wielding a handgun, and befriending a Faulknerian man-child before getting gunned down by the cops is a premise that easily could've supported it's own oddball movie. Either because of the notoriety afforded it by the King lawsuit, or because teenagers in 1992 genuinely thought these cornea-rendering special effects were cool, “The Lawnmower Man” was a box office success. New Line produced a sequel four years later, though “Lawnmower Man 2: Beyond Cyberspace” featured few returning cast members. Brett Leonard even had a brief chance to make other movies after this, including another digital relic called “Virtuosity.” “The Lawnmover Man” is cyber-trash but too goofy for me to hate. [6/10]

Freddy's Nightmares: Photo Finish

Last year, I managed to find an episode of “Freddy's Nightmares” that wasn't a complete stinker. “Photo Finish” is among the higher rated episodes on IMDb, so maybe it'll be decent. If nothing else, the two stories are set around Halloween. The first segment follows Stoney, a washed-up fashion photographer forced to do family portraits now. That's when she gets a call from Kink, a new cheesecake magazine looking for someone to do Halloween photoshoots. The models are attacked by Freddy during the sessions, an element of terror that Stoney's boss loves. The second half has a trio of FBI agents investigating a Halloween murder of a family in Springwood.  While trying to decipher what happened, head agent Petersen begins to have dream-like visions of the murders. It's not long before Freddy appears.

The Stoney half of “Photo Finish” has Freddy assuming a role he doesn't usually hold: A Mephistopheles style figure that gives success at a horrible price. By terrorizing the models, Stoney's work regains an edge it is lacking. Patty McCormick does a decent job of playing the character's inner conflict, horrified by the murders but happy to see her talent revitalized. Unfortunately, the rest of the episode is typically sloppy. The models just happening to fall asleep during every photoshoot, so Freddy can terrorize them, is hopelessly contrived. McCormick covering up one of the murders is a plot point that goes nowhere. The final moment, Stoney getting her comeuppance, happens before the story reaches any sort of pay-off, robbing the punishment of its ironic punch. 

The second half of “Photo Finish” is much weaker. Far too much of the segment is devoted to the other two FBI agents wondering if Peterson is crazy or a criminal. This just pads out the script, as the element is discarded once Freddy makes himself known. I'm not entirely sure I understand Krueger's M.O. here either. He apparently tricked a father into murdering his wife and daughter, which doesn't seem his style. The way psychic visions and dreams overlap here is not well explained either. There is one decent gore gag here, of Freddy slashing someone as they still in a spinning office chair. Otherwise, this story just meanders on until everyone is killed. 

I will admit that the Halloween elements here are welcomed. The monster movie themed photoshoots in the first half are fun. A moment where a model is killed with a stake through the heart is amusing. We also see Freddy dressed up as a mummy for a few seconds. The second half has the fun image of a trick-or-treater in a ghost costume shooting someone through the sheet. Obviously, Robert Englund being hammy is the main attraction but that only goes so far when the rest of the episode is so half-assed. The scripts are simply half-formed. This episode was directed by “Hell Night's” Tom DeSimone. While DeSimone made some New World classics, he also directed a lot of porn. That's what the grainy photography and lackluster production values of “Photo Finish” – and every episode of “Freddy's Nightmares” I've seen, honestly – reminds me of. [5/10]

Lucifer Rising (1972)

Kenneth Anger was always fascinated with the occult and was a life-long adherent of Aleister Crowley's Thelematic system. This is why, during the sixties, Anger would adopt Lucifer as a personal mascot of his. He saw the fallen angel, not as a demonic evil entity, but as a symbol of youthful rebellion and the artist's spirit. (He also took to calling his boy-toys of the week “Lucifer.”) This fascination would climax with “Lucifer Rising,” an underground short that had been in various states of development for about ten years – as well as involvement from various rock stars like Mick Jagger and Jimmy Page – before Anger finally completed it. The vaguely plotted short depicts the Egyptian gods summoning Lucifer and ushering in a new occultic age. 

Though less blatantly experimental than “Invocation of My Demon Brother” – the footage for which was salvaged from an earlier attempt to make this film – “Lucifer Rising” still qualifies more as an occult ritual put to film than a traditional movie. You see threads of the story in images of Egyptian gods standing around the pyramids and Sphinx, while young people in strange outfits perform arcane ceremonies. A climax of sorts arises by the time a red disc is floating over the statues of Egypt, while Osiris and Isis stand at attention. Yet any attempt at a narrative here is strictly up to interpretation from the viewer. Once again, as the slinking acid-rock soundtrack from Bobby Beausoleil suggests, you're probably meant to be high as shit while watching this. 

Anger was clearly much more interested in the sway these various symbols had over the viewer than telling a straight ahead story. There's admittedly something to be said for that. As the groovy score sways on, you do fall under the film's spell a little. Images of young people walking in magic circles, handling snakes, and casting sparks into the air are interesting. The often smooth camera movements and sped-up footage of young mages doing their thing are stylish. The sights of lava erupting from the Earth, the monoliths of ancient times, and Marianne Faithfull (playing Lilith apparently) emerging from a cave do invoke a Teutonic kind of feeling. I'm not going to pretend I'm well read enough in Crowley or occultism to totally understand what's going on here. But it is interesting and hypnotic in its own way. [7/10]