Halloween 2025: September 3rd

 

Death of a Unicorn (2025)

Long ago, longer now than it seems, "Cabin in the Woods" featured a murderous unicorn. It was a great gag but did make one wonder: Can the unicorn be a movie monster? The modern conception – a majestic white horse with a single golden horn – is most associated with little girls, the queer community, and anything colorful, graceful, and pure-of-heart. This represents a flattening of the weirder creature found in classical mythology. One-horned ungulates first appeared on pottery from the Indus Valley around 2000 BC. In 70 AD, Pliny the Elder included the "monoceros" among the wildlife of India. This was an animal with the body of a horse, the head of a stag, the feet of an elephant, a boar's tail, and a long black horn emerging from its forehead. Descriptions of unicorns as fearsome, uncatchable beasts that healed the sick and purified water with its horn were common by medieval times. Something closer to the modern version emerges then, usually depicted as a white horse or goat with cloven hooves, a long tail, a beard, and a narwhal tusk growing from its skull. Stories and tapestries depicted the unicorn as an untamable, violent beast whose wild heart could only be soothed by a virginal maiden. This narrative – the fearsome unicorn pursued by man in his greed, captured by the fair lady, killed and then miraculously revived – proliferated as a parable for Christ's crucifixion, resurrection, and bond with the Holy Virgin. The latter most story inspired filmmaker Alex Scharfman to write "Death of a Unicorn." It was A24's quirkier horror project earlier this year and, despite some soft reviews, I wanted to catch up with it.

Widower lawyer Elliot Kinter and his teenage daughter, Ridley, drive through a mountainous nature preserve on the way to the estate of Odell Leopold. The CEO of a powerful pharmaceutical company, Odell has secluded himself in his villa – with his wife Belinda and idiot son Shep – as he dies of cancer. Elliot has been summoned to sort out Odell's affairs. On the drive-up, he strikes an animal with his car. It looks a lot like a white horse with a single golden horn. Both Elliot and Ridley get splattered with the creature's blue blood. Only after the animal has to be killed by Leopold's head of security do Elliot and Ridley noticed that their ailments – her acme, his nearsightedness – have been healed. Realizing what they have, Odell injects the blood and regains his health. The Leopolds immediately go about trying to turn this miracle cure into their next million dollar drug. Ridley, who grasped the animal's horn and received a vision, believes it is a mythological unicorn... And that the medieval legends of the creature are far more dangerous than those around her realize. It's not long before the parents of the young unicorn, vicious and determined, come to retrieve the corpse of their off-spring. 

“Death of a Unicorn” is faithful to the medieval morality tales it invokes. It is an updating of what you might call a fairy tale, in the Grimm Brothers' sense. This is a story where the wicked are punished and the virtuous prevail. Setting such a story among pharmaceutical company CEOs led to some complaints that the film is ham-fisted. Maybe but those that seek to profit off the sick and dying, bleeding them dry with criminally high prices, while patting themselves on the back for “helping the world” deserve all the comical scorn they can get. Leopold is a cartoonishly evil capitalist. His son is a moronic spoiled brat, with no actual talents aside from a prodigious hunger for drugs. His wife whitewashes her reputation at the right hand of evil through a charitable foundation. They abuse and ignore Griff, a faithful family servant. The doctors and scientists have moral concerns but always kowtow to their corporate overlords.They all get what's coming to them before “Death of a Unicorn” is over. You can definitely argue that some of Scharfman's gags are a little too broad. Shep's fondness for mind-altering substances results in bigger and crazier jokes that might be a little too goofy. However, for the most part, I enjoyed the cultural satire at work here. If the last decade has taught us nothing else, it's that the avarice and conceited stupidity of the billionaire ruling class is beyond parody. 

Scharfman is not subtle about his influence. He includes repeated shout-outs to “Aliens,” in the teenage daughter's name and multiple sequence of hunters being tracked by their prey. Spielberg was obviously on his mind as well, “Death of a Unicorn” recalling “Jurassic Park” more the longer it goes on. In fact, the movie strikes me as rather Amblin-esque. The opening shot of the film is of Ridley falling asleep on her dad's shoulders, which he moves away from in pursuit of a contract on the floor. Throughout the film, Elliot references how much money he can earn from this deal, in order to provide a future for his daughter. Like Peter Pan in “Hook,” and the workaholic parents in a dozen other family flicks, Elliot is fixated on money and his job. He uses this as a placeholder for the obvious emotional chasm between him and his daughter, as a way to avoid grappling with the grief of his wife's death. Naturally, through the events of the film, Elliot will reconnect with his daughter. I think the script takes it too easy on the dad, who is often far more emotionally clueless than any parent should be and far too complacent in other blatantly evil acts. However, if you can buy into the gulf between father and daughter here, the emotional arc of “Death of a Unicorn” is surprisingly heartfelt and sincere. 

As someone obviously way too invested in folklore, I found myself hoping “Death of a Unicorn” would lean into the weirder medieval conceptions of its titular beast. I'm happy to report that the unicorns here have the whipping tails and billy goat beards, with the welcomed addition of serrated fangs. The script does not stray far from the mythological roots. The cycle of death and  resurrection, and the creatures' irresistible connection to a virgin maiden, are well represented. Perhaps the film can be criticized for merely doing the stuff it's already told us its going to do. Sure. At the same time, a lot of fun is had contrasting the modern idea of unicorns as magical friends to all children and their wilder roots. There's quite a lot of impalings with those single horns, the script repeatedly finding clever new ways to have the creatures gorily execute the film's villains. That includes some disemboweling and head-crushing too. If you can't have fun with that stuff, I guess you and I simply have different ideas of what's entertaining.

It also helps that “Death of a Unicorn” has a stacked cast. This is one of those films that fills its ranks with beloved character actors and stars and allows them to play totally to type. Richard E, Grant is hilariously despicable as Leopold, digging into much of his dialogue with the kind of vigor he excels at. Will Poulter plays Shep as a bumbling golden child and manages to wring repeated laughs out of the selfish behavior and dopey dialogue he's given. Anthony Carrigan is often hilarious as Griff, the most put-upon of put-upon butlers in recent memory. Jenna Ortega plays another alienated teenager struggling to connect emotionally with their parent. It's a role she's quickly getting typecast in but she does go through the beats nicely. Paul Rudd enters the film looking like the Angry Video Game Nerd.and probably gives the silliest performance, with a few too many obvious quirks for the character to register as a real person. Still, Rudd has an affable screen presence that eventually wins you over. 

Larry Fong, Zack Snyder's go-to cinematographer, creates some lovely visuals. The sweeping mountain setting and meticulously designed sets are beautifully photographed. The film gets a surprising amount of mileage out of unicorns running through the mist, blinding lights, and infrared shots. This is tied with some psychedelic colors and dreamscapes. Some of the CGI isn't flawless but I do enjoy the practical monster unicorn effects we get throughout. “Death of a Unicorn's” satire is definitely, probably too on-the-nose and it can't make every emotional beat of its story hit exactly right. However, it's also an enjoyable horror/comedy that makes a creditable threat out of long-since neutered mythological concept. Considering Piney's “monoceros” was certainly describing a rhinoceros, this is a idea I'm surprised nobody had really done before. Maybe I'm simply too much of a folklore nerd and a sloppy monster kid at heart to resist whatever charms this one had. I'm fine with that. [7/10]

The Phantom Creeps (1939)

Between 1914 and 1964, Universal Pictures would make 146 serials. Basically the Netflix shows of their era, designed to get people to come back to the theater every week, these cinematic series have been forgotten by all but the most devoted of classic movie nerds. However, at least one of these serials has had an odder legacy. Unsurprisingly, there was some crossover between Universal's serials and their horror movies. 1939's “The Phantom Creeps” would star Bela Lugosi, giving this one a little bit of a cult following. It also fell into the public domain, surely being broadcast on many creature feature shows in the sixties and seventies. That's probably how the young Mr. Robert Zombie first saw it and why he gave the serial's distinctive robot menace a key role in his “Dragula” music video. The machine went on to become something of a mascot of Zombie's, extending “The Phantom Creeps'” legacy – or at least the legacy of that ugly-ass robot – a lot further than it otherwise would've gone. Some have even gone so far as to consider “Dr. Zorka's Iron Man” a Universal Monster. That means I had to watch it! 

“The Phantom Creeps” exists in two forms: The original serial, totaling four hours and twenty-five minutes, and a 78 minute feature cut, assembled for TV broadcast in 1949. I watched both, naturally. Either version follows the same story: Mad scientist Dr. Zorka has discovered a new element from a meteor. He's fashioned an array of fantastical weapons from it: A belt that grants invisibility, that eight foot tall robot, a gas that induces a death-like state, little robot spiders attracted to radioactive disks, and a laser gun called a Z-Ray. After he inadvertently kills his wife and fakes his own death, Zorka promises to unleash his vengeance on the world. (With the help of Monk, his incompetent and cowardly henchman.) Government man Captain West, hot-shot reporter Jean Drew, and former colleague Dr. Mallory try to stop Zorka's plan. Meanwhile, spies for an enemy nation seek the element for their own purposes.

My exposure to old time movie serials has, admittedly, been limited. However, I've certainly read plenty about the cliches of the format. “The Phantom Creeps” does nothing to dispel these pre-conceived notions. The serial sacrifices pacing, ambiance, and often coherence in favor of constant action. Nearly every episode features a car chase or a shoot-out. There are multiple plane crashes across the twelve parts and a speed boat crash too. The plot essentially sees Zorka's mysterious element trading hands between himself, the heroes, and the spies. “The Phantom Creeps” repeats this pattern over and over again across its twelve installments. Sometimes, the element is swapped between the different parties multiple times within the same episode. Such as in the improbable plot turn of Zorka renting an apartment right above the secret hide-out of the spy ring. Shit like that reminds you that these serials were basically made for kids, an audience that could accept unlikely developments like Zorka discovering a hitchhiker that looks just like him or pulling a number of amazing inventions out of this one magic rock.

Of all the contrivances of the classic serials, none is more notorious than the cliffhangers. Each chapter must end with the heroes having fallen into a seemingly inescapable sort of peril. “The Phantom Creeps” deserves points for creativity. The good guys are left in planes and cars and even a boat that crash and burns. Zorka also derails a train they're riding on, pulls electric wires down onto their heads, throttles Captain Bob with his killer robot, and tricks them into crossing a bridge about to be dynamited. No matter how fatal each of these events may appear, the heroes emerge unharmed at the start of the next chapter. Getting out of the cockadoodie car is one thing. The characters emerging unharmed from the fiery wreckage of a train wreck or simply driving through the explosive hazards is harder to swallow. This pattern is designed to keep viewers coming back next week. To modern eyes, it makes “The Phantom Creeps” seem utterly devoid of tension. No matter how elaborate the danger, no one will actually be hurt.

When you combine that with the repetitive plot, “The Phantom Creeps” quickly becomes a tedious experience. When contrivances like the G-men driving by the spies on the same road occur, leading to yet another car chase, you feel exhausted. Moreover, constantly going right up to something truly crucial happening only to pull back makes the series feel like a perpetual tease. Whenever you feel like that murderous robot is finally going to do something, the story goes back into a holding pattern. Any time the plot threatens to get truly exciting, the story returns back to the mundane settings of Zorka's lair or Dr. Mallory's suburban home. Most of the characters are men in suits and fedoras, often making it difficult to keep track of which group has the MacGuffin at any given time. I often forgot whether I was watching Captain Bob or his sidekick or the gang of foreign agents. The characters that are memorable are rendered less likable by their repeatedly foolish actions. Monk attempts to betray or dessert Zorka multiple times but the mad scientist never disposes or fires his cowardly henchman. Or the spies seem happy to let the Lois Lane-ian heroine go at one point. It's hard to be too invested in what happens when the characters are this dumb and indistinct.

At the same time, I am tempted to forgive “The Phantom Creeps” for its dumber, more tedious trespasses. It should go without saying that Bela hams it up to glorious heights as Dr. Zorka. Honestly, his expression when being exposed to his own gas, threatening Monk with bodily harm, or being shocked when he accidentally derails a whole train brought me more entertainment than anything else across these four hours. I was also repeatedly amused by Monk's ability to absorb multiple gunshot wounds without any consequences. Fast-talking, adventurous lady reporters almost always win me over and Dorothy Arnold plays that role nicely here. Once “The Phantom Creeps” finally stops fucking around in its final part, its constant action is finally given some weight. The perpetually scowling Iron Man takes on a small army and goes up in spectacular fashion. Bela unleashes his wrath via bombs dropped from a bi-plane, resulting in a lot of stock footage from the crash of the Hiddenburg and World War II combat. That chaotic final act is deliriously violent enough almost to make up for the extremely stupid way our villain is undone.

Ultimately, “The Phantom Creeps” has limited charms. Bela is giving it his all. Watching him lurk around a cobweb strewn lab, make himself invisible, or brood over bubbling chemicals isn't without its value. Edward Von Sloan plays the leader of the spy ring. There's some novelty in seeing him as a bad guy, despite the disappointing lack of interaction he has with Lugosi. Honestly, Rob Zombie definitely stole the most memorable element from this serial. That towering robot, with its perpetually scowling face and stiffly moving arms, is amusingly goofy. The serial repeatedly trying to turn such an awkward, comical creature into a creditable threat results in some chuckles. The full length serial quickly becomes a slog to get through. The abbreviated version operates more like a best-of reel than a coherent narrative, though it is slightly more digestible. Will I continue to hold onto the Blu-Ray simply to say my Universal Monsters collection is as comprehensive as possible? Obviously the answer is yes. [5/10]

 

 

Alfred Hitchcock Presents: The Glass Eye
 

Far back within the reaches of human history, a person realized they could make it seem like their voice was coming from a source other than their own throats. This skill was originally used during religious ceremonies. At some point, somebody fashioned a piece of wood into a crude representation of the human form and, using the same talent, made it appear like this facsimile was alive and talking with its own voice. Presumably five minutes after that, somebody else realized this was all kind of weird. And so the proud narrative tradition of creepy ventriloquist dummies emerged. In 1944, John Keir Cross published the short story "The Glass Eye" and its fine and unsettling twist ending surely caught the attention of Alfred Hitchcock and his team. He would host an adaptation of the tale – with Robert Stevens directing – as the premiere episode of the third season of "Alfred Hitchcock Presents."

An unusually subdued William Shatner appears as our narrator, cleaning out the belongings of his late spinster sister, Julia. Upon discovering a glass eye, he relates the tale behind it: On one of the rare occasions where she ventured out into the world, Julia took her bratty nephew to a show. There, the famous ventriloquist Max Collodi and his dummy George performed. Julia immediately became infatuated with Collodi, quitting her job to follow his performances around the country. She wrote to him obsessively, requesting a meeting, and included a photograph of herself when she was younger. After many rejections, Collodi finally agreed to see her, in a darkened room and only for five minutes. This preceded a horrifying discovery. 

Most stories of devious dummies and malevolent marionettes usually go the route of the puppet being imbued with life through supernatural means or representing the fractured psyche of the ventriloquist. "The Glass Eye" goes a slightly different route, its shock ending nevertheless probably being easily guessed by most savvy modern viewers the minute they get a look at "George." (Or notice a specific name in the credits.) Either way, Stevens' direction and John L. Russell's moody cinematography keeps this captivating. The climatic meeting between Julia and the object of her desire plays out in a shadowy room, the sole source of light upon the ventriloquist's table. The reveal plays out like a nightmare come to life, conveying the odd circumstances strictly through tight close-ups and sudden emergencies. If nothing else, the episode does a good job of impressing on the viewer how psychologically devastating Julia finds these uncanny events. 

It leads up to a rather melancholy epilogue, the sadness of which Hitchcock's typically morbid quips in the host segments can't defuse. Creepy as it definitely is, "The Glass Eye" mostly strikes me as a deeply sad story of how self-loathing unavoidably goes hand-in-hand with the need for human contact. Jessica Tandy plays Julia as someone crippled by her fears of being judged by others. She considers herself an old, used-up woman that is unlovable to the world, despite Tandy being all of 47 at the time and hardly a crone. Still, she hopes for a partner to touch. She falls in love with Collodi from afar, seeing the handsome ventriloquist as an ideal figure she can reach out to. Despite her devotion, she still fears rejection by him and sends a younger photo. The bitterly ironic ending is that her celebrity crush isn't even real, that the true puppeteer is somebody else who clearly fears rejection and hides from the world as well, and that her need to hold and treasure undoes her own fantasies. You could apply a lot of these themes to our modern world of NEETs, "stan culture," and parasocial relationships. That proves that good writing is immortal and "The Glass Eye" remains potent to this day. [8/10]

The Addams Family: Morticia's Romance: Part 1

With the start of its second season, I suppose the writers decided it was time to flesh out the Addams Family's backstory a little bit. This necessitated the show's first two-part episode. On the night of Gomez and Morticia's thirteenth anniversary, the kids gather around for their parents to relate the story of how they met. At the age of 22, Gomez was a bachelor with no interest in women and perpetually congested sinuses. Grandmama, sick of her son being alone, conspired with her old schoolmate Hester Frump to arrange a marriage between their children. Ophelia Frump is happy to marry Gomez but he has no attraction to the super-strong, wide-eyed girl... Her twin sister Morticia, on the other hand, immediately captures his attention. The two fall in love quickly and wish to wed but don't know how to break this news to their mothers. Gomez consults Cousin Itt for advice on how to get out of this dilemma, the hairball suggesting a suicide pact. 

"Morticia's Romance" essentially operates as something of an origin story for the kooky, creepy brood. It clarifies that Grandmama is Gomez' mother and Itt is his cousin, while stating again that Fester is Morticia's uncle. It seems Lurch and Thing were already lurking around the house by this point. The episode has great fun re-introducing as many of the family's quirks as possible. It turns out Wednesday is the spitting image of her mother, who was also fond of pigtails, maxi-skirts, and decapitated dolls. The episode shows Gomez meeting Cleopatra – just a sprout at the time – and Kitty Kat, while Morticia stumbles upon Zelda the Vulture. The mention of Gomez' pet octopus or Itt and Fester appearing on-screen are clearly meant to be cheer-worthy moments too. While Morticia seems simply like a shyer version of herself at this age, Gomez is far more neurotic and antisocial. Save for his love of exploding toy trains, he doesn't develop into the passionate, boisterous, French-loving gentleman we know until Morticia lights his flame. Yeah, I can relate to that. Sometimes, it takes meeting your other half to give you the confidence needed to come out of your shell. 

The episode also expands the Addams Family a little bit. In what surely must have been the first big guest star the show went after once it became a success, Margaret Hamilton appears as Gomez' soon-to-be mother-in-law. Of course, the Wicked Witch of the West is Morticia Addams' mom. We also meet Ophelia, the twin sister also played by Carolyn Jones. (Resulting in the required shot of the two standing across from each other in a horizontal shot.) The idea that someone would be too eccentric for Gomez must've presented a challenge. The show resolves this by making Ophelia brightly dressed, enthusiastic about nearly everything, and gifted with a penchant for judo. You'd think his partner regularly beating him up – or shrilly playing a broken violin – would be right up Gomez' alley. I guess Morticia sparked his love of sadomasochism too. If nothing else, Jones clearly delights in a chance to play the opposite of the soft-spoken and reserved Morticia. 

There's some solid gags here too. A conversation between Gomez and Ophelia while she cleans the series of dishes she shattered leads to some amusing visual jokes. The same can be said of Fester's introduction. The extremely bleak joke the episode ends off on is another example of this show being edgier than I'd expected. I guess cracking wise about committing suicide was a lot more common in the sixties than I realized. Another example of this subversive streak is that Gomez gifts Morticia a lacy nightgown as an anniversary present. The two are clearly about to get up to some not-fit-for-prime-time activities when the kids barge in. Despite the separate beds, the fact that Gomez and Morticia Addams fuck can never be ignored. The only element of this episode that seems wrong to me is the reveal that these two have only been together for thirteen years, meeting when both were merely twenty-two. I guess I'm accustomed to the Addams as quasi-immortal beings, untouched by time, as suggested in the nineties film. Am I truly meant to believe that these two are younger in their prime than I am now and not ageless entities that have prospered for eons? Oh, also it's weird that this was the second episode of the second season when it was clearly meant to operate as the premiere. I guess they didn't want to open the sophomore year on a two-parter? [7/10]

Halloween 2024: September 3rd

Lisa Frankenstein (2024)

When "Juno" was released to critical and commercial acclaim in 2006, you'd be hard pressed to find a discussion of the movie that didn't mention how its screenwriter used to be a stripper. Diablo Cody's extremely distinctive – some might say "annoying" – dialogue earned praise. Yet the fixation on her past as a sex worker hinted at a weird, sexist double standard among even the film's defenders. This led to a perhaps inevitable Diablo Cody backlash, which hit by the time her second movie, "Jennifer's Body," was released. The prickly, absurd dialogue people loved in "Juno" was lambasted in "Jennifer" and the film flopped at the box office. Cody has continued to have a healthy career but it seemed like she'd never reach the heights of her debut again. In the intervening fifteen years, "Jennifer's Body" has been reclaimed as a feminist cult classic. This is probably why someone decided to give another horror/comedy from the writer a shot. Adding to "Lisa Frankenstein's" hype was Zelda Williams – the daughter of the late, beloved Robin Williams – making her directorial debut with it. Unfortunately, "Lisa Frankenstein" was ignored at the box office back in February. I probably would have watched the movie anyway but, when I realized it is technically part of Universal Studios' on-going attempt to reboot their classic monster characters, as the film was released by Universal subsidiary Focus Features, I knew I had to catch up with it. 

When Lisa's mom was murdered by a home intruder, it didn't take long for her dad to move on and remarry. Now, gothy Lisa is stuck in a new town with no friends, a bitchy stepmom, and a perky cheerleader stepsister named Taffy. She spends most of her time making gravestone etchings in a local abandoned cemetery and pinning for a hunky guy named Michael. Following a disastrous party, a bolt of lightning strikes the graveyard and resurrects the resident of Lisa's favorite grave. She soon takes the shambling corpse in, befriending him. When the stepmom threatens to ship Lisa away, the monster spontaneously murders her. This begins a wave of killings, Lisa and the Creature offing the people who annoy her and stitching parts from the bodies onto the rotting revenant. Lisa quickly gets in over her head, as her undead friend grows more human. 

"Lisa Frankenstein" is set in the late eighties and this is not explicitly stated until the second half. However, it's immediately obvious from the retro fashion, clothing, music, and production design on display here. Williams and Cody wear their influences on their sleeves, as the animated opening credits directly recall the work of Tim Burton. The story, of a gothic outcast striking back against the day-glo conformity around her, was clearly inspired by "Edward Scissorhands" and "Beetlejuice." Contrasting a moldering monster better suited to the Gothic era with the pastel consumerism of the late eighties is hardly a novel idea... However, it is an unexpected sight here in 2024. When combined with some light John Waters-esque bad taste humor, "Lisa Frankenstein" does quickly create a likably absurd tone for itself. Or maybe I'm predisposed to like a fusion of classic horror trappings, sick jokes, goth shenanigans, and totally radical eighties aesthetics.

Despite the title, Williams' film doesn't actually have much to do with the classic "Frankenstein" story. Lisa isn't a mad scientist trying to create life. There's no grave robbing and only a little after-the-fact stitching together of body parts. The corpse's resurrection happens through a magical moment that is never explained and not done intentionally by Lisa. The film mostly draws from Shelley's text in the idea of an outsider striking back at the society that rejects it, making the "Frankenstein" story into one of alienated teen girl wish fulfillment. Lisa's dad is clueless and her stepmom is a narcissistic bitch but, at the same time, the teenage girl is hardly suffering. Without being especially heroic, a monster man falls into her lap who is willing to kill everyone who displeases her. He's completely devoted to her and, after multiple visits to a rejuvenating tanning bed (a very silly plot point one just has to go with), even pretty cute by the end. Lisa does get comeuppance of a sort for her misdeeds but the film remains entirely on her side. "Lisa Frankenstein" is essentially a morbid take on the magical boyfriend premise. A manic pixie dead boy, if you will. 

And you know what? That's fine. Young men have seen their shallow wish fulfillment fantasies play out on-screen for years. It's only fair that young women get some of the same. As far as these things to, "Lisa Frankenstein" keeps it bubbly and fun. Cody's trademark exaggerated dialogue is present without being too overwhelming. The film orchestrates some amusingly broad sequences of physical comedy, such as the monster's slapstick rampage through the house or the way a misplaced body part sails through the air. (The film is rated PG-13, which its comedic gore and snickering sexual humor pushes right to the limit.) Williams clearly enjoys playing on this cinematic canvas, as she engineers several striking dream sequences that play like goth culture collages reminiscent of the Smashing Pumpkins' "Tonight, Tonight" music video. A smart soundtrack is also well utilized, notable needle drops from Pixies and Echo and the Bunnymen seemingly designed to tickle the funny bone of aging dorks like me. 

More than anything else, the film is kept afloat by an able-bodied cast. Kathryn Newton, after giving a similarly enjoyable performance in "Freaky," shows that horror-comedy is a genre she excels at. She makes Lisa awkward enough that you can see why she's an outcast while still making her a likable, kind of cool protagonist that the audience can root for. She does have a way with Cody's stylized dialogue, getting laughs out of nothing lines. Cole Sprouse has little dialogue as the monster, expressing his considerable emotions through his soulful eyes and slouching posture. His vaguely Keaton-esque body language is another way this film recalls early Burton/Depp collaborations. Carla Gugino is also fabulously obnoxious as the evil stepmom, while Liza Soberano walks a very careful line in making Taffy exceptionally perky without her being annoying. 

Really, the only thing about "Lisa Frankenstein" that let me down is how the subplot concerning the murder of Lisa's mom is left unresolved. I thought for sure that was going to come back around at some point, one of the various supporting characters being revealed as the murderer. That certainly seems to be where the film is going. Instead, the plot point is dropped after a while. Makes me wonder if some scenes weren't cut or something. Either way, "Lisa Frankenstein" is still an often silly, sometimes sweet spin on teenage alienation, young love, and dead bodies. It's not going to top "May" as the definitive femme take on the "Frankenstein" premise but it's not bad either. I can imagine teenage girls rediscovering this on streaming and making it another cult fave, similar to how "Jennifer's Body" was reappraised. [7/10]

Voodoo Man (1944)

Even among the classic horror nerds who care about such things, the films Bela Lugosi made at Monogram Pictures are not usually that highly regarded. The nine films have a cult following but even their defenders admit they are exactly the kind of quickly churned out B-movie schlock that sadly defined most of Lugosi's later career. So imagine my surprise when, a few years back, one of these notorious movies actually managed to crack the They Shoot Zombies, Don't They? list of the one thousand greatest horror movies of all time. That would be "Voodoo Man." Even though the film has subsequently fallen off the list, the title still stuck in my head. When looking for a Lugosi movie to sample this year, I already had this one in mind. Upon discovering that fellow classic horror icons John Carradine and George Zucco also appear in "Voodoo Man," I knew I had to check it out. 

Young female motorists are disappearing out in the California forest. The culprit is Dr. Marlowe, who has his henchman at the only gas station in the area point the girls to an isolated road, where a device deactivates their car. They are then abducted by two more of Marlowe's goons. The girls are carried to a chamber under his mansion, where Marlowe uses voodoo rituals to transfer their life force into his lifeless wife. When the ceremony inevitably fails, the girls are rendered as mindless zombies. Got all that? Screenwriter Ralph is hired to write a film based on this strange case. Soon, his fiancée Betty and her cousin Sally are targeted by Marlowe, making Ralph a part of the story he was hired to fictionalize. 

If the above plot synopsis didn't make it abundantly clear, "Voodoo Man" has an especially loopy plot. What makes this bizarre set of scenarios enjoyable is the presence of weirdo actors getting a chance to be as weird as they want. Dr. Marlowe is a little more sympathetic than the standard mad scientist villains Lugosi always plays in these movies. Instead of yelling a speech about how the world has wronged him, he gets monologues about how much he loves his somnambulant wife. He still does a hypnotic, "Dracula"-style stare though. George Zucco plays the gas station attendant, who is also the high priest during the voodoo rituals. Zucco wearing wizard robes and face paint while babbling nonsense about voodoo gods is certainly a sight to behold. Perhaps the show is stolen by John Carradine as Toby, Marlowe's hunchbacked, simpleton assistant. Carradine mumbling in a country bumpkin accent while tending to the zombified girls is already worth the price of admission. During the rituals, he gets to bang on those bongos like a chimpanzee, a simply delectable sight for fans of cult movie bullshit like me. 

It's also greatly amusing to me the way "Voodoo Man" mashes together a bunch of different horror tropes. This is one of the final films Lugosi made for Monogram and it's clear, by this point, that the screenwriters were just throwing a bunch of shit around. The devious bad guy in a spooky old house, with creepy servants, attempting to resurrect his wife was already a cliché by 1944. ("The Corpse Vanishes" used all of these same elements.) This is combined with the sci-fi aspect of Marlowe's car stopping machine, housed inside a secret lab not seen anywhere else in the movie, and the convoluted plot point of the misleading gas station. Though none of this has anything to do with Haitian folk magik, a voodoo element is awkwardly latched onto the rest of this plot. Producer Sam Katzman and screenwriter Robert Charles clearly weren't worried about consistency or internal logic. Yet this random assembly of stereotypes becomes an unpredictable game of classic horror free association for long time fans. 

"Voodoo Man" was directed by William "One-Shot" Beaudine, Old Hollywood's most prolific filmmaker. With this merely being one of the literal hundreds of the director's credits, quality was clearly not a concern. I guess tossed-off schlock had a certain charm to it in the forties. I can't pretend "Voodoo Man" is a great looking movie. Many of its scenes are stationary, medium shots. Yet the close-ups on Lugosi's hypnotic eyes, or his shadow cast long against the wall as he lures a victim into the basement, are cool. The voodoo rituals also feature a cut-up rope tying itself into a knot. That's a neat trick. No doubt my build-in fondness for this type of detritus is at work here. "Voodoo Man" ends up feeling like a cozy, classic horror mixtape to me, a collection of creaky sights and sounds that invoke warm and fuzzy Halloween vibes. 

The plot of Tod Andrews' hero wanders in and out of the movie, until it's time for him to lead the police to Marlowe's lair in the last few minutes. He's mostly here as a way to connect the two damsels in distress. Andrews' Ralph being a "scenario writer" for "Banner Pictures," led by a man known only as "S.K.," introduces a bizarre meta element. The movie then ends by suggesting this story will be turned into a movie called "Voodoo Man," starring Bela Lugosi. Such an epilogue truly proves that Monogram was simply fuckin' around with this one, throwing in dumb in-jokes to amuse themselves while delivering a hastily assembled product off the B-movies conveyer belt. Offbeat touches like this existing within a hodgepodge of worn horror clichés, populated by a cast of genre legends happily hamming it up, makes "Voodoo Man" a good time for fans of this particular strain of utter nonsense. Great cinema it obviously is not but watch enough schlock like this and you start to really appreciate the weird moments. [7/10] 

Creepshow: The Hat/Grieving Process

"The Hat" follows author Jay Stratton, gripped by writer's block and fearful of being a literary one-hit wonder after his first book. For inspiration, his agent loans him the hat of his hero, prolific author Stephen Bachman. When Jay wears the hat, he finds his creativity explodes. He slips into a trance and does nothing but write for days on-end, soon pumping out bestsellers. The constant rush of ideas destroys his personal life with his girlfriend. After a meeting with Bachman, who has been reduced to a shriveled invalid begging for his hat back, Jay begins to wonder what he's really wearing on his head. 

From the moment the name "Stephen Bachman" is mentioned, I was really worried "The Hat" was going to be one of those "Creepshow" episodes devoted totally to referencing better, more famous horror stories. However, this one quickly starts to stand on its own. Every writer is terrified of starring down the blank page. The idea of a simple charm that makes you an unstoppable literary titan is irresistible. This is "Creepshow," however, so "The Hat" is a Faustian bargain. The way the hat gives Jay a rush that results in an obsessive drive to write, while causing him to neglect his relationships and personal hygiene, brings another energy-boosting substance to mind. One the real "Stephen" "Bachman" is certainly familiar with. This trade-off brings lots of other ideas to mind too, about the fragility of the work/life balance and the pressures of success. Watching Stratton – played by a likably neurotic, nasally Ryan Beli – discover the sacrifice he's made for success and uninterrupted writing prowess is a predictable but satisfying journey. "Creepshow" can't have a segment without some sort of squishy monster however. The last act of "The Hat" gets amusingly gross as the true nature of the titular chapeau is revealed, in typically gooey fashion. This definitely feels like one of the more E.C. Comics influenced installments of "Creepshow," though with a tinge of cosmic horror and eighties style creature effects. 

In "Grieving Process," Richard and April are planning on starting a family. That's when she's attacked while coming home from work. Her personality begins to change drastically afterwards, April acting cruelly, hiding in her room from the sunlight, and refusing to eat any meals Richard prepares for her. (Despite loving his gourmet cooking before.) After she attacks and drains the blood of a therapist assigned to her, Richard realizes his wife has developed a totally new diet. He soon goes out of his way to drag bodies home for her to feast on. The creature responsible for turning April into a flesh-eating monster is still out there though...

While "The Hat" is predictable in a fun way, following its premise to its absurd conclusion, "Grieving Process" is much too maudlin for that. From the minute April is attacked, with a clear bite left on her neck, we can guess what she's become. The fate of her little sister, a disposable subplot, is easily to deduce. So is the true identity of the attacker, once Richard unknowingly meets them and falls for their bait. "Grieving Process" could've still been meaningful, if it dug more into being a metaphor for the way trauma can change a person. Instead, Richard and April are never developed enough to make an impact. His transformation from forlorn husband to serial killer is hard to buy, simply because we don't know or care enough about his devotion to his wife before this point. This segment is based on a short story by Mike D. McCarthy and one imagines the inner lives of these characters are more fleshed out on the page. The episode is well directed, Kailey and Sam Spear producing some colorful images, and does feature probably the grossest gore "Creepshow" has packed in yet. But it is – if you'll excuse the pun – not much of a meal. [The Hat: 7/10 / Grieving Process: 5/10]

Chucky: Let the Right One In

With the revelation that Chucky is in the White House, "Let the Right One In" sees our young heroes hatching a plot to get into the nation's capital. Lexy reaches out to Grant Collins on social media, appealing to his bereaved side. The plan works and Jake, Devon, Lexy, and their teacher-turned-foster-mom are soon in D.C. Meanwhile, Chucky brutally murders the president's secretary in the Oval Office. This causes newly hired head-of-security Warren Pryce to enact a cover-up, fearful news of murders in the White House might effect President Collins' chances at re-election. First Lady Charlotte is the only other person who knows about this.

"Let the Right One In" sees John Hyams back in the director's chair, after handling last season's "Going to the Chapel." Since Hyams specializes in intensely choreographed violence and thrills, it's not surprising that this episode features more action than the season's first. There's a nicely tense moment of Pryce finding evidence of Chucky's movements. Similarly, an earlier scene between the presidential brothers plays up on the doll's eeriness. However, "Chucky" knows what its fans want to see. The sequence of the doll killing the secretary with a letter opener is gloriously over-the-top in its goriness, escalating from a geyser of blood to a grotesque decapitation. Hyams' ability to turn cinematic murder scenes into tense displays is also shown during the less bloody but no less brutal strangulation that follows. It doesn't hurt that we actually have some attachment to the people who are killed, making their passing much more meaningful. (Though I'm probably sad to see the secretary go because she's played by Steffi DiDomenicantonio, who I've had a crush on for years.)

This show can gift even it's supporting players with depth sometimes. Grant, as played by Jackson Kelly, is mostly a conceited asshole teenager, obsessed with social media and his own fame. Yet the heart-to-heart he shares with his little brother is sweet. Perhaps there is more to him than it seems. Meanwhile, Jake and Devon attempting to take their relationship to the next physical level, only to be interrupted each time, is clearly going to be a running joke this season. It says a lot that I actually find these moments cute, instead of annoying. I guess I am invested in this trio. Even if Brad Dourif delivering smart-ass observations is still the main reason I'm watching. We get a little bit of that this episode – mostly in the final minutes, when Chucky calls his enemies again – but, as always, a little is never enough. 

While logic has never exactly been a concern in this franchise, the idea of Chucky operating in the White House does raise some questions. Namely, a serial killer knocking people off in perhaps the most scrutinized building in the country would probably be detected very quickly. "Let the Right One In" attempts to cover for this with the introduction of the paranoid Warren Pryce. Gil Bellows plays him as a very strict weirdo, who seems almost delighted to be involved in a government cover-up. The idea of this show delving into conspiracy theories and "X-Files" shit could be fun, if it continues to play it as absurd comedy. If the focus remains on Charlotte's anxiety over being involved in such an affair, and the increasingly unlikeliness of these events, I'll like that. Hopefully it doesn't bend towards convoluted, soap opera shit instead. [7/10]

Halloween 2023: September 28th

Strangers on a Train (1951)

Nowadays, Patricia Highsmith is associated with urbane, psychological thriller novels that explore the darker impulses of higher society living, often with a focus on meticulous killers or homoerotic undertones. In other words, she was exactly the kind of storyteller you'd expect Alfred Hitchcock to appreciate. Back in 1951, however, people barely knew who Highsmith was. Her first novel, “Strangers on a Train,” was published just the year before. The book clearly caught Hitchcock's eye. He purchased the film rights to the novel without disclosing his name, to keep the asking price fairly low. After “Strangers on a Train” was released to commercial success – and, after the initially middling reviews faded, the reputation of a classic – Highsmith was supposedly quite annoyed. Yet, I imagine, the fame of having your name attached to one of cinema's greatest directors probably helped Highsmith sell a lot more books in time.

Tennis pro Guy Haines is currently caught in a highly publicized scandal. Everyone knows that he's dating Anne Morten, the daughter of a senator. That includes his wife, Miriam. While on a train ride, he happens to encounter an eccentric man named Bruno Antony. Bruno, who is under the thumb of his dictatorial father, suggests the two “exchange” murders. That Bruno kills Miriam and then Guy knocks off Bruno's dad. Guy is disgusted by the idea, even though Miriam refusing to grant him a divorce makes him wish she was dead. Bruno goes ahead with the deal anyway, hunting Miriam down and strangling her to death. When Guy is reluctant to fulfil his end of this bargain, Bruno goes about framing him for the crime and blackmailing him into committing the killing. 

Probably my favorite of Alfred Hitchcock's reoccurring quirks and obsessions was his perverse desire to get the audience to relate to a murderer. “Rope” and “Psycho” created sympathetic killers with deeply Freudian fixations pushing them to kill. “Frenzy” simply forced the audience to align with the strangler, by giving them no other option. “Strangers on a Train” represents something of a compromise between these two approaches. Bruno is clearly a conniving psychopath from the minute we meet him. Yet he's undeniably charismatic too, Robert Walker's performance have a certain poise to it. If nothing else, Bruno is more likable than Guy, a blustering and short-tempered fellow who is badgering a woman shortly after he's introduced. He's clearly the hero, and gets more sympathetic the further into Bruno's sick game he's drawn into. Yet the audience can't help but gravitate towards Bruno, just because he's more interesting.

There's another layer to the relationship between the two men. Guy – whose very name implies upright maleness – is embroiled in a relationship with two women, leaving his heterosexuality in little doubt. Bruno, meanwhile, has his nails done by his mother. He lounges around his home in a bathrobe, resenting the traditional masculinity of his father. Eventually, Bruno's plot draws Guy into his bedroom. This is after the killer says to Guy, while touching his shoulder, “I like you.” It's evident that Bruno's latent queerness – played up by Walker's foppish performance – represents a threat to Guy's hetero existence. He has to repeatedly prove to the police that he didn't kill his wife, that he cherishes woman and doesn't regard them. Yet the dysfunction apparent in Guy's normative love life makes it clear that Bruno's life style is attractive, no matter how depraved he may be.

Its subversive themes aside, “Strangers on a Train” also represents Hitchcock at his strongest as a precise visualist. The film contains some of the most tightly designed shots of the director's career. The opening tracking shots of both men's shoes sets up the parallel between them immediately. The murderous man is often bathed in shadows, further suggesting the darker world he inhabits. One of the most brilliant moments in the film has Bruno appearing at one of Guy's tennis games, focusing in on his face in the crowd as he stares ahead in concentration, while everyone else watches the ball bounces back and forth. Robert Burks' cinematography indulges in a number of visual tricks, such as a punch right to the camera or askew angles to disorient the viewer.

No doubt the most spellbinding sequence in the film involves Bruno stalking Miriam through a carnival. The sequence is littered with sexual suggestion, with the woman seductively licking an ice cream cone or Bruno proving his potency by doing better at a carnival game than her dates. It climaxes with a legendary shot of a strangulation reflected in the fallen frames of her glasses. Hitchcock delights in misdirecting the audience, stretching the stalking scene as long as possible, hinting at the murder to come without satisfying that morbidity immediately. “Strangers on a Train” plays with this format out throughout its run time. When Guy descends the stairs in Bruno's home, the killer stretches his hand into a sewer grate to retrieve a distinctive lighter, or a heroic mechanic crawling under an out-of-control carousal, the screws are tightened. The suspense ratchets up. You remain riveted throughout, in anticipation to how this might play out.

The film is peppered with the director's puckish sense of humor too, represented mostly by the curious younger sister of Guy's girlfriend or the comedic straight man of the detectives pursuing him. The film's repeated use of rear projection repeatedly creates an artificial feeling to the proceedings, furthering the complete control over the visuals that the filmmakers have. I'm sure that all of the points I've made above have been studied and examined by film scholars better read than me. No director's filmography has been more overturned and dug into than Hitchcock's. Yet I'm continuing impressive by how damn good his movies are all these years, how effective his manipulations are even after they've been endlessly imitated and referenced. [9/10]

Bloodlust: Subspecies III (1994)

During the behind-the-scenes VideoZone featurette on "Subspecies II" – which I dutifully watched as part of my research while writing my review – actress Tracy Scoggins is interviewed. (She was promoting “Dollman Vs. Demonic Toys,” a totally different Full Moon movie.) There, she compares working for Charles Band to filming TV shows. Charlie was really cranking 'em out – he produced 13 movies in '94, through Full Moon and its sublabels – so I'm sure the pace was similar. I wonder if Band would've even questioned this comparison. “Bloodlust: Subspecies III” begins with a recap of the previous movie's events, similar to the “Previously on...” bumpers you'd see at the beginning of any serialized TV show at the time. Cut out the blood and boobs and the “Subspecies” movies wouldn't feel too out-of-place in-between “Tales from the Dark Side” and reruns of “Star Trek: The Next Generation.” 

“Bloodstone” concluded with Radu's mummified mother dragging Michelle back into the crypt. She quickly resurrects her vampiric son, who immediately gets back to work trying to turn Michelle into the perfect sire. She resists his plans at every turn. Her sister, Becky, is still in Transylvania. Working with Mel, the contact at the U.S. embassy she befriended, the two set out to rescue her seemingly cursed sister. He calls in a special ops agent to help them in that mission. But will it be enough to break Radu's bloody grip over Michelle? 

While I compared Full Moon movies to TV, I suspect Charles Band would rather have his work be more like comic books. (And if anyone could be called the Stan Lee of direct-to-video horror, it's him.) “Bloodlust” emphasizes the outrageous comic-style elements even more than the second one. Including a beret-sporting commando – amusingly given the mundane name of “Bob” – in the story feels exactly like something that would've happened in the anything-goes world of nineties comic book. That brings blazing machine guns, a grappling hook, and a magic dagger flying through the air. When the sequel climaxes with maybe the most grisly gore gags in the entire series, that mood is further sealed. 

As campy as “Subspecies III” gets at times, the primary focus here remains to the dysfunctional relationship between Radu and Michelle. Radu is clearly utterly enamored of Michelle, starring at her with absolute desire while reminding her frequently that he loves her. Yet, being a murderous vampire, Radu's idea of “love” means transforming Michelle into the perfectly subservient bloodsucker and he's willing to sacrifice as many random victims as possible to achieve that goal. Michelle rebuffs her would-be master every chance she gets, claiming she only wants to die and be freed of this curse. Yet she also clearly covets the powers her condition gives her and struggling with a newfound blood lust. Anders Hove, as raspy and whispery as ever, manages to make Radu even more expressive, strangely pathetic and sympathetic, than ever before. Denice Duff has a good mixture of vulnerability, confusion, and sexiness as Michelle. 

It's a good thing that “Subspecies III's” vampire melodrama is so compelling, as the sequel clearly has a smaller scale than its predecessor. There's less of the shadowy cinematography that distinguished part two. Most of the movie is set inside the same tombs and dusty, underground tunnels. There's fewer of the genuine castles and ruins that classed up the last two entries. Radu's stop-motion henchmen don't even appear until the very last scene of the movie. Yet, in spite of the obvious budgetary shortcomings, “Bloodlust” never feels any less fleet-footed or delightfully schlocky than the previous installments. Whatever flaws they may have, you've got to hand it to these classic Full Moon movies for getting in and out in under ninety minutes every time.

I guess what ultimately makes the “Subspecies” movies more distinctive and memorable than the middle “Puppet Master” sequels is the obvious investment director Ted Nicolaou and his cast have in this world and their characters. The plots are goofy nonsense, the mythology is deeply silly, and the relationships don't amount to much more than an undead soap opera. Yet “Bloodlust: Subspecies III” takes all this ridiculousness seriously, playing it straight, while also satisfying the cheap thrills and low budget, monster movie spectacle the audience has come to expect. Not as stylish or sturdy as “Bloodstone,” this is nevertheless a good time for horror fans nostalgic for 90s video store fair. [7/10]

Suspense: A Cask of Amontillado

As I discussed last year, many early television programs were based on popular radio shows. Much like “Lights Out,” “Suspense” was another horror/thriller anthology series popular during the Golden Age of Radio. In fact, it was one of the longest running, beginning in 1940 and lasting all the way up until 1962 on CBS Radio. Also like “Lights Out,” “Suspense” would make the leap to television in 1948. “Suspense” often distinguished itself by adapting stories by well-known authors, with recognizable actors in the cast. The TV version picked up this trend. A cursorily glance of the episodes brought me to “A Cask of Amontillado” starring Bela Lugosi, which was part of the televised “Suspense’s” second season. 

Since Poe’s original story is short on narrative, “Suspense” adds a lot in its adaptation. The setting is shifted to Italy during World War II. (Which, it’s important to note, was not long in the past in 1949.) Fortanato becomes a stable boy turned Nazi general, while Montressor is the count whose wife he has stolen and sister he has murdered. The count, well aware that the general intends to kill him next, concocts a scheme to trap Fortanato. He lures him down into the vaults under his family mansion, with the promise of tasting a rare Amontillado sherry. If you have any familiarity with Poe’s story, you can probably guess what happens next. 

The audience’s knowledge of this oft-told tale is presumably one reason why “Suspense’s” writers made so many changes to “A Cask of Amontillado.” The episode attempts to build, well, suspense by having Fortanato be an attempted murderer too, threatening to pull his luger on Montressor at any minute. This change, plus the contentious history between the men, also makes Montressor’s murderous actions more justifiable. If the guy getting walled up alive is a Nazi, and was a murdering scum bag even before he became a Nazi, it’s hard not to feel that he’s getting exactly what’s coming to him. Of course, this also removes much of the nasty bite from Poe’s story, which is made all the more disturbing because of its ambiguity. Poe’s “A Cask of Amontillado” is strikingly amoral, while this adaptation removes all that by making the man entombed a bastard and the man doing the entombing somewhat heroic. It even adds a framing device, of Montressor confessing his crime to the authorities, to make sure the audience is absolutely certain of the program’s moral center. 

While not a particularly good adaptation of Poe’s story, “A Cask of Amontillado” is still worth seeing. Largely for Bela Lugosi’s performance as General Fortanato. Obviously, while playing a drunken Nazi general/multiple murder, Bela happily hams it up to amusingly broad heights. Romney Brent is also interesting as Montressor, especially the noir-like narration he uses throughout. The limited budget here shows in the rather flimsy looking sets, such as a staircase which the actors simply walk around on to give the illusion that they are descending deeper into the castle. I find that effect kind of charming though. Similarly amusing are the ad breaks for Auto-Lite Spark Plugs, which are accompanied by whimsical animations and their own laid-back narrator. It must’ve been difficult to build tension when such light-hearted commercials were baked into the program. “A Cask of Amontillado” is mostly interesting as a relic of the early years of television but I’m glad I watched it anyway, for exactly that reason. [6/10]

The Munsters: Herman's Child Psychology / Herman, the Master Spy

Last Halloween, I reviewed all of “The Munsters'” first season. While nobody could ever call the show cutting-edge comedy, the combination of extremely corny humor, a benevolently spooky aesthetic, and an archetypal family dynamic scratched a specific itch for me. The show's first season was successful enough to beat rival series “The Addams Family” in the ratings. Television execs in the sixties didn't believe in shaking up a working formula, so not much changed as “The Munsters” headed into its second season in the fall of 1965... Except for the opening credit. The season two credits are scored to a more boisterous version of the theme song, featuring the family stepping onto their porch. The crash-zooms on the actor's face and the little gags here – Herman storming through the door, Eddie's giant baseball bat – arguably make this the iconic version of the intro. 

The second season kicks off with “Herman's Child Psychology.” A friend of Eddie's mentions wanting to run away from home. When Eddie decides to try the same thing, Herman attempts some reverse psychology on the boy, prompting him to run off. This results in the father going off to look for his boy, with unexpected circumstances. The family hits the beach in “Herman, the Master Spy.” They haven't to be there at the same time a Russian ship is spying on the American coast. While out scuba-diving, Herman is accidentally picked up by the Soviets, who mistake him first for a sea monster and then a spy. Once the U.S. government picks up this information, the stitched-together dad almost ends up causing an international incident. 

“Herman's Child Psychology” is a good example of how “The Munsters” takes a simple, sitcom scenario and slowly escalates it to more absurd places. What's starts off as a typical story of a kid running away from home ends up with Herman bringing an escaped circus bear home with him. When he runs into the mother bear while returning the cub, things go to an even sillier place. Being basically a live action cartoon, “The Munsters” can casually feature a smiling, grunting bear waltzing with a Frankenstein monster with no problem. Fred Gwynne's reactions to the little bear are priceless. This kind of freewheeling goofiness runs alongside genuinely sweet family shenanigans. The conversation Eddie and Herman have as the boy is leaving home is adorably amusing. As always, these kind of simple interactions probably wouldn't be laugh-worthy if the cast wasn't so laid-back and likable.

The first episode widely avoids “The Munsters'” most common running gag: Normal people reacting to the family going about their business with exaggerated horror. The second episode, “Herman, the Master Spy” is largely built around the contrast between the Munsters and quote-unquote normal humans. Yet, even then, there's an unexpected take on it. Instead of being horrified by him, the Russian spies immediately embrace Herman. They are dancing with him, singing songs, telling jokes, performing party tricks. Whether this is just a good bit of comedic subversion or a jab at how weird Americans were suppose to find Soviets in the sixties, I can't say. Either way, Fred Gwynne's utterly charming goofball antics go a long way in these scenes.

Certainly nobody watched “The Munsters” for biting social commentary but its take on the Cold War is surprisingly sharp. The U.S. and Russia go back and forth on whether to believe the story of a ship picking up a monster. The information passing between the two agencies, changing each time like an international game of Telephone, is a good take-down of Cold War tension. This global superpowers are so determined to undermine each other, they can't even keep their information straight! The Soviets are portrayed as pretty laid-back too. Also, this episode features the undeniably kitchsy image of the Munsters in their swimsuits on the beach, a good example of how this show subverted classic Americana imagery and ended up as an example of it too. [Herman's Child Psychology: 7/10 / Herman, the Master Spy: 7/10]