Halloween 2026: September 27th

 

Kraken (2026)
 

The Norwegian film industry has, within the last decade, made an honest attempt to establish itself as an international hot spot. The country can now claim several big budget summer blockbusters of its own, with special effects and urban destruction almost comparable to their Hollywood equivalents. Proving once again that Legendary's “Godzilla” truly did renew global interest in giant monsters, a few of these titles feature enormous beasts. Yes, the tally of Norwegian kaiju movies now totals three. First, there was Roar Uthaug’s “Troll,” about a big ass troll attacking Oslo. Next was “Troll 2,” in which a good big-ass troll fought a bad big-ass troll. Now, another famous beastie from Nordic mythology is getting a similar treatment. “Kraken” arrived earlier this year. It is from director Pål Øie, who has followed in Roar’s footsteps by leaping from slasher flicks to disaster movies to giant monsters. 

Decades ago, several witnesses saw something huge in the waters of the Sognefjord. Today, the deepest of all of Norway’s fjords is now the home of an industrialized salmon farm. The farm makes use of ultra-sonic devices to drive sea lice away from the fish. These machines were invented by Johanne, who distanced herself from the work over ecological concerns. However, with pressure from investors mounting, she’s drawn back to the project. A pair of teenagers disappear on the fjord, their mangled bodies discovered soon afterwards. This is the first of several strange events around the water. Against Johanne’s wishes, the frequencies of the devices are increased. This further agitates something dwelling deep within the waters. It’s not long before a massive tentacled beast is emerging from the fjord, Johannes and her co-workers attempting to stop it from causing more destruction. 

The kraken does not originate in pre-Christian religions or ancient folkloric beliefs, like most of the sea monsters of the Scandinavian region. Instead, it was basically to 1600 Norwegian sailors what Bigfoot was to early 20th century American lumberjacks: A rumored creature spotted briefly but never confirmed, probably based on glimpses of actual animals that were exaggerated over time. Øie follows this lead by basing his “Kraken” in modern ecological concerns. One of the first scenes is of the salmon farm manager showing off a fossilized arrow head. It’s been uncovered because global warming is melting glaciers. Rather than take this as a deeply concerning sign of how man-made industry is changing nature, the guy instead turns it into a sales pitch. Capitalism has no regard for the natural order of things. The dead bodies are piling up. The businessmen are specifically warned against continuing forward. They do it all anyway, further awakening the wrath of a giant monster. In the modern era, Godzilla and his brethren have been distanced from their atomic origins and made more general symbols of anxieties over climate change. “Kraken” applies this same idea to the very Norwegian landscape, of scenic fjords and fishing boats. 

This is also, you’ll notice, a similar plot point to “Jaws” and its ocean of imitators. Rather than have a mayor insisting that the Beaches Are Open, because the tourism industry will take a hit, you’ve got a fishing exec demanding progress be sped up to meet investor demands. This is only the most obvious cue “Kraken” takes from Hollywood blockbusters. The giant monster is proceeded by smaller parasites. They look a lot like the Facehuggers from “Alien.” They act a lot like them too, scurrying around through vents and leaping at people. They also spray caustic black slime, like the Dilophosaurus in “Jurassic Park.” The guy on the receiving end of that ooze is even a tubby technician. The general outline of “Kraken” is reminiscent of a dozen American disaster flicks and monster movies, of an ignored expert being forced to step in and save the day when ignorant capitalist set off a chain reaction of catastrophe. The characters – a rebellious daughter, a stoic ex-lover, a cocky police officer – are all stock part roles too. 

That is what truly keeps “Kraken” from pulling me in, that its cast and characters are never developed beyond familiar clichés. That’s a bummer, because the technical film-making is strong. The special effects are quite good, the enormous tentacles providing a proper sense of scale. The sequences in which the heroine has to crawl through vents while avoiding detection from the parasites are decently suspenseful. The movie is also gorier than I expected, showing us the mutilated remains of the monster’s victims closer than anticipated. The final act, in which we come face to face with the giant eye of the beast, naturally bring some Lovecraftian energy to the motion picture as well. All of this suggests that, with a more layered and unique script, “Kraken” probably could have been a scarier, deeper experience.

A faster pace would’ve helped too. The film is almost exactly ninety minutes long, which is economic by the measure of big budget blockbusters. Despite that, the C’thulhu headed horror doesn’t truly start to slither on-screen until about fifty minutes in. Those horseshoe crabs from hell almost play a bigger role than the marquee distraction. Still, Pål Øie and his team deserve some points. They took a project with a Syfy Channel Original set-up and turned it into something that, if dubbed into English, could play in American multiplexes without raising any eyebrows. Supposedly, the film’s primary financiers have invested big in A.I., causing some to wonder if such technology was used while making “Kraken.” I can certainly see that in the posters, at least. That shows that the money people making this movie did not learn from its moral. May their data centers melt glacial ice, unleashing a beast that crushes their offices. As for the movie, it’s pretty forgettable but I didn’t hate it. [6/10]

Pure Blood (1982)
Pura sangre

The first victim was discovered in November of 1963. Over the next six months, an additional thirteen bodies were uncovered. Most of them were boys. The majority had been assaulted, tortured, and had their hearts pierced with needles. All of them were discovered in unfinished lots and alley ways, referred to by locals as mangones. (Which literally translates to "pastures" but colloquially refers to an open, empty area.) Ultimately, over thirty deaths would be linked to the figure nicknamed the Monster of the Mangones. A perpetrator was never captured, with some speculating that these were unrelated homicides. Either way, it's the kind of macabre and disturbing case that can't help but fascinate. Documentary filmmaker Luis Ospina would be inspired by the case, combining it with the true story of Colombian businessman and coffee magnate Adolfo Aristizabal, to create the 1982 film "Pura sangre." While still fairly obscure on the international scene, subtitled copies do circulate online, giving me a chance to check out more of Columbia's often neglected contributions to the horror genre. 

Roberto Hurtado, an aging leader in the medical and sugar cane industries, has been diagnosed with a rare blood disease. The only thing that will keep him alive are daily, massive transfusions of blood. Specifically blood from young men or boys of a matching types. His son, Adolfo, runs the daily practices of the business while monitoring his father. By chance, he discovers that three of his employees – nurse Florencia, ambulance driver Perfecto, and morgue attendant Ever – have recently committed a grisly murder and assault, strictly for the thrill of it. Adolfo blackmails the trio into continuing this killing spree. As long as they target boys, drain the blood afterwards, and make sure it's transfused to his father. The trio go about their nightly activities, targeting social undesirables like gay men and the impoverished. Soon, reports of a serial killer known as the Monster of the Mangones begin to circulate among the grieving parents and press.

The observation that rich people are like vampires, draining the life blood from the lower class to prolong their unnatural existence, is not exactly novel. The correlation is right there in "Dracula." At times, that seems to be the only point "Pure Blood" has. The film is largely devoted to watching this trio of remorseless serial killers callously targeting their victims, intercut with scenes of the frail old man in his hospital bed and the daily routines of the family business. (Which includes haggling with, and intimidating, sugar cane labor unions.) However, an even darker point does eventually emerge. Roberto is a cadaverous old man. His daily treatments will not save his life, merely make it last a little longer. How does this supposed titan of industry spend the final days of his existence? He pervs on his nurse, watching her undress from secret monitors and telling her what to wear. He makes people read the newspaper to him. He dismisses actual news, caring only about the rise and fall of stocks and fortunes, which often seem to be meaningless metrics. He watches movies on VHS. He likes "Johnny Guitar" but hates "Citizen Kane," demanding his nurse no longer bring him black-and-white movies. I wonder why the story of a rich man who dies unhappy and unsatisfied might bother this guy?

All the while, Roberto is utterly unaware of the sordid activities being carried out to preserve his existence for a few more days. Of the lives lost and destroyed to make sure this sick old man doesn't die for another week. Yes, the rich are like vampires, figuratively and sometimes literally sucking the life force out of the poor to keep themselves alive. They are also entirely protected from the consequences of their actions, unaware of the suffering their trivial existence is responsible for. Roberto Hurtado probably wouldn't care about the kids who die to keep him going but he also doesn't even know, making this condition equally horrific and pathetic. 

The complete unawareness of the old man goes hand-in-hand with the utter callousness of the murderers. When cruising the street for victims, Perfecto points at one kid, who Ever dismisses for being black in as racist a fashion as possible. They hang out in a gay bar, luring in young guys with drugs, because they know that the deaths of gay men are less likely to be taken seriously by the police. After realizing that one of the children they've murdered is the wrong blood type, the trio simply dump the body out of their car and continue on. In addition to being a cold-hearted killer, Ever is also a necrophile, often assaulting the bodies of the victims after they are dead. As he leaves the evidence of such a vile crime behind him, Perfecto merely shrugs it off. That is a consistent quality about "Pure Blood." These killers tell jokes in-between homicides. A late scene depicts them going on a trip to the beach with their families. The only time they come close to being found, they defuse the situation by acting callously and whistling to themselves. That's shit out of a cartoon but why wouldn't it work, in fiction or real life? The way "Pure Blood" captures the disaffected, ruthless fashion of its serial killers is the most chilling thing about it. 

The millionaire motivating the crimes is ignorant. The killers doing the dirty work are heartless. The man in the middle, played by a perfectly deadpan Luis Alberto Garcia, treats it all as a mere business operation. Sugar cane futures, bargaining with union leaders, paying off ice cold psychopaths, it's all the same to this man. That angle informs all of "Pura sangre." Ospina's background in documentaries is apparent in the scenes devoting to showing life in the downtrodden parts of Cali. We see kids in thrown-together Halloween costumes partying and playing as the Advent holiday arrives. Moments like these are captured with the same matter-of-fact quality as watching people snort some cocaine or hang out in their apartment. This is backed by a droning electronic score that further surrounds us with a chilly, isolated atmosphere. Business, whether it be in blood or money, is equally detached from the human element. "Pura sangre" observes the lives of the lost innocents with an intimate, lived-in reality and the actions of the killers like a dispassionate god. 

The result is an unsettling film that is tricky to shake. I went into "Pure Blood" being told it was a dark comedy. I guess this is still true but any chuckles to be found here are more of the rueful, grim type than bemused. Most chilling of all is a final scene that implies all of this is set to begin again, the responsible party unlikely to face any consequences for their actions. There's little information on the English-speaking web about the film, the murders that inspired it, and any other links between these events and real people. What I have been able to find is contradictory and confused. To any Colombian readers better versed in the facts, I apologize for getting any details wrong. What I'm sure of is that "Pure Blood" lays it's thesis out, the social frame work that makes crimes such as these possible, with distressing preciseness. [8/10]

Amazing Stories: Welcome to My Nightmare

Having watched all of the “Psycho” movies earlier this month, now seemed like a good time to watch “Welcome to My Nightmare.” That’s the season two episode of “Amazing Stories” that is an extended homage to Hitchcock’s classic. Harry is a horror obsessed teenage boy and “Psycho” is his favorite. He sets his VHS player up so that the shrieking strings of the shower scene act as his alarm clock every morning. His fixation is such that it’s annoying his family. It’s also annoying Kate, the cute girl next door who inexplicably has a crush on Harry. She asks him to the dance and he fumbles it. Instead, he has a fight with his family and leaves for the movie theater. On his way there, he wishes that his life was more like a movie. This wish comes true but he doesn’t specify which movie. Harry is transported into “Psycho” in the role of Marion Crane, right before the shower scene.

“Welcome to My Nightmare” is the work of Todd Holland, who would go on to direct “The Wizard,” “Krippendorf’s Tribe,” and a bunch of television. He has no relation to Tom Holland, director of “Fright Night” and “Child’s Play,” who probably would’ve been a smarter choice to direct a horror centric episode like this. While it heavily references a terror classic, the tone here is of heavy-handed comedy and mawkish sentimentality. Harry’s family flatly lays out the themes of the episode, explaining that life isn’t a movie. That he needs to focus more on reality than what’s on the screen. His rejection of their suburban lifestyle is similarly broadly explained through dialogue. The episode’s plot literally depends on a shooting star, the kind of waxy whimsy that too often characterized this show. “Amazing Stories” really did feel like a bad imitation of Spielberg and not an actual Spielberg production a lot of the time, didn’t it?

The episode stars David Hollander as Harry, presenting the frightening possibility that someone with the last name of Hollandest is also involved in this production. His performance is broad and exaggerated. He makes stretched, mugging faces. His reaction to ending up inside “Psycho” is one of aghast shock, a note the actor and episode never stops hitting. He is also placed inside a dress, since he’s inhabiting the Janet Leigh role. You would think that a homage to “Psycho” that puts a man in drag would be commenting on the queerness of this source material in some way. No, it’s just a lame sight gag here. There’s no Hitchcockian subtly here, as the episode climaxes with a buffoonish ride down a carnival slide and an equally obvious homage to “It’s a Wonderful Life.” When you consider that the story involves a cute girl having a pre-established attraction to the awkward movie nerd, the whole half-hour feels like bad wish fulfillment. The zombies in one of the fantasy sequences are kind of cool but this one is pretty lame otherwise. [5/10] 

Friday the 13th: The Series: Brain Drain

If nothing else, the “Friday the 13th: The Series” writing team gets points for creativity with this one. The eighteenth episode’s Artifact of Doom is a trepanier. As in a device used for trepanning, the antiquated practice of punching holes in the skull to relieve internal pressure or let out evil spirits. The tool is in the possession of Dr. Pangborn, a scientist working to increase intelligence. His test subject is a simpleton named Harry. The trepanier allows Harry to absorb Pangborn’s smarts into his brain, at the result of leaving the doctor a drooling idiot. Now assuming the doctor’s identity, the villain uses the device to drain his colleague’s intelligence and download them into a gorilla’s brain. Working on the same project is Dr. Viola Rhodes, who happens to be Jack’s old flame. They nearly got married but it didn’t work out. With this mission bringing Jack into her presence, the two resume their relationship. Unfortunately, the brain sucking gizmo and the mad scientist using it endangers their renewed love affair. 

While “Friday the 13th: The Series” has hinted at Jack’s storied past many times, this is the first time it’s become a truly relevant plot point. Reliable character actress Carrie Snodgrass plays Vi and she has strong chemistry with Chris Wiggins. Sometimes simply getting two older performers together is enough to imbue a fictional interaction with some gravitas. Everyone has made mistakes, left somebody behind that they miss, wonder what their life might have been if things had worked out. Playing on that gives this episode way more pathos than your usual “Friday the 13th” episode. Naturally, this love affair is destined to end in tragedy. Seeing Jack get seriously pissed off at the villain of the week, violently seeking vengeance, provides some true novelty to this one. The note this one ends on is of resigned sadness, of regrets with no solution and once cherished memories that now only sting. As it too often goes in life.

Such a poignant subplot contrasts sharply against an otherwise typical episode of “Friday the 13th: The Series.” Denis Forest, who previously appeared in “Cupid’s Quiver,” inexplicably adopts a German accent upon becoming smarter. His invention features a brain floating in a tank of fluid, a microphone picking up its grumbling thoughts somehow. The climax of this episode is extremely silly, with a slow-motion scream and a close-up on a goofy facial expression. I admittedly don’t know much about trepanning but I don’t think it involved such an elaborate machine, with a swinging blade and tubes transporting spinal fluid. There is a decent suspense scene, in which Ryan and Micki are stalked through a storage room. Otherwise, the A-plot is typical ridiculous shenanigans, while Jack’s arc is much more moving. Makes for an odd back-and-forth but I'll still give this one an above-average grade. [7/10]

Halloween 2026: September 24th

Teenage Sex & Death at Camp Miasma (2026)

The golden age of the slasher movie was short-lived. By 1984, over-saturation had been reached, the style was burnt out, and Jason Voorhees was dead. They kept making them. They'll keep making them forever, because something about the subgenre seems to imprint on every subsequent generation of horror fans. Which is to say: It's been four decades since "Halloween" and "Friday the 13th" lit the fire, and three since "Scream" popularly deconstructed it, and people are still finding things to say about these movies. Whether the irony-enriched eighties slasher regurgitation premise is totally played out or not is irrelevant. A certain breed of filmmaker will keep thinking about it. Deeply personal reflections on media seems to be Jane Schoenbrun's thing. "We Are All Going to the World's Fair" and "I Saw the TV Glow" were the director's post-mortems on getting too deep into the internet and substituting real life experiences with television, respectively. Now "Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma" has this extremely distinctive voice considering the often-considered camp slasher framework. 

"Camp Miasma" was a popular eighties slasher film. It concerned Little Death, a transgender revenant wearing an air vent on their head and wielding a spear. The killer regularly rose from a lake to massacre the people at the summer camp next door. The original was a hit and beget a long line of sequels, until the premise was thoroughly run into the ground. Now, up-and-coming filmmaker Kris Williams has been contacted to pitch a reboot. Kris knows the studio singled her out because she's queer and they are hopeful she can untangle the "Camp Miasma" series from its problematic origins. She genuinely loves the films though. In particular, she's enamored of Billy Presley, the star of the original film that has since disappeared from public life. Kris tracks Billy down at her home, which turns out to be the camp grounds where the first movie was shot. Billy has a deep connection to "Camp Miasma" as well. Her and Kris explore what the film means to them, and their own sexuality, until the border between reality and fiction are totally blurred. 

The impression I got from Jane Schoenbrun's previous films is that they put a lot of themselves into the protagonists. A young person losing connection to reality as they go deeper into an internet rabbit hole and a pop culture-obsessed, deeply closeted loner perhaps represented dark "what-ifs" for the auteur. "Camp Miasma" is Schoenbrun's most personal work yet. By which I mean, Kris Williams definitely seems to be a self-insert for the director. Hannah Einbinder is even made up to look a bit like Schoenbrun. The plot thread of Kris being asked to make a "woke" reboot of a transphobic summer camp slasher, specifically because of their queer identity, makes me think Schoenbrun got asked to reboot "Sleepaway Camp" at some point. (Both that film and its beloved-by-me sequel are mentioned by name.) That must be weird, being offered a job only because your identity lines up with the murderous villain's. If "Camp Miasma" is a reflection of the director's feelings, Schoenbrun has little respect for typical Hollywood smoozers. Kris' agent and the execs are obsessed with meaningless buzz words like "origin story" and "elevated." While the "Queer Assistant" present is depicted as utterly apathetic. If brainless industry people are a target of the story, the script doesn't spare its protagonist either. Kris' past films that "explore queerness as monstrous otherness" and her obsessive film fandom are treated as immature defense mechanisms, to cover up real insecurities she feels about herself and sex. When asked to talk about herself, Kris talks about her films instead. As if that's all there is to her, as if cinema is more real than reality.

And maybe it is, at least for these characters. The film leans on the surreal borderland between the real and the imagined early on. As soon as Kris arrives at the camp, elaborate matte paintings are being used to create a sense of cinematic dreaminess. The brand names of junk food are highlighted, as if to the emphasize the importance of shiny, disposable commercial products to these people. Dipping sauce for chicken fingers is sensually lingered on, only the first of many scenes connecting food and sex. This is because, as the title indicates, this movie is almost entirely about sex. That's why the killer is Little Death, why they penetrate with a spear, and why they strikes as their victims are on the verge of orgasmic rapture. Some of these symbolic touches are obvious, even trite. But this is ultimately a film about how the pop culture we consume gives us the words to express our desires, our fantasies. The shadow play of the movies are absorbed as erotic nightmares, through which we can then describe our own thoughts and feelings. If the amount of Jason-themed erotica I've seen is any indication, Kris is far from the only person whose sexual awakening was entwined with an old horror movie. Finding sensual satisfaction from watching naked, stereotyped teenagers get killed is acknowledged as #Problematic but, the film seems to say, our fantasies tend to be a little fucked-up. That's why they only exist in dreams and on the big screen. 

It's an interesting, highly personal re-contextualization of the slasher concept.  Schoenbrun has said that the film is as much about learning to enjoy sex after transitioning as it is riffing on Jason movies. I exist in too cis of a head-space to, perhaps, understand that element. A sequence where Kris talks about watching a horror movie and wanting to be the fleeing bimbo on the screen is pretty obviously important. The symbolism of the spiraling, interlocking lines of Little Death's vent mask were a little lost on me. I'm sure someone with a degree in Gender Studies would have something to say about the discussion around the role watching and being watched, being both within and outside the body during sex, plays in the film. 

I don't know much about that kind of thing. What I do know lots about is eighties slasher movies. The opening credits depict a litany of poster art, VHS boxes, Fright Flicks-style trading cards, merchandise, and industry articles about the long-running series. Clearly, Schoenbrun is as faithful to the marketing aesthetic of the “Friday the 13th” series as they were to the look and feel of nineties television in “I Saw the TV Glow.” The first glimpses we get at the “Camp Miasma” films, a sequence where Billy is humping with her male co-star when Little Death is reflected in her eye, is striking. When we finally get an extended look at the film-within-the-film, the results are dishearteningly not as faithful. As much as the film draws specific cues from “Sleepaway Camp” or “Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter,” the characters within the film are never less than utterly cartoonish. Including a female stoner with a huge mohawk, which feels a bit anachronistic for the early eighties. The sequence grows more exaggerated as it goes on, with every kill being followed by a massive geyser of blood. It is, simply put, quite bad, playing less like the creation of a loyal fan of the genre and more like a shitty “Saturday Night Live” sketch or something. The filmmaker clearly knew what the films they were paying homage to looked and felt like, so I can only assume that these moments of obnoxiously dumb parody are intentional. 

Moments this grating are especially baffling when other parts of the movie work so well. The filmmaker remains especially talented at unexpected needle drops, especially when pairing them with unexpectedly lyrical violence. The cinematography and visuals are interesting throughout.  Hannah Einbinder gives a thoughtful performance as Kris. Gillian Anderson adopts a kind of silly country twang as Billy, which takes some getting used to. However, she has fine chemistry with Einbinder and the acting choices eventually win me over. In other words, “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is messy, too self-aware at times, and doubtlessly self-indulgent. At first, I was disappointed in it. As far as recent self-aware “Friday the 13th” homages go, I preferred “In a Violent Nature.” However, thinking about it, the film captivated me for its entire runtime and transported me. I suspect I will think about it a lot more in the future. [7/10]

Cry of the Banshee (1970)

You can get a good sense of the shifts the horror genre went through as the sixties became the seventies by looking at Vincent Price's career. The previous decade was defined by the classy chills of the Poe Cycle. Ten years later, his trademark films were about mad villains seeking elaborate, often gory revenge on those who wronged him. The transitional film between these two styles was, of course, the intense and violent "Witchfinder General." American International Pictures would attempt to replicate that one's success a few times. Most directly with 1970's "Cry of the Banshee." It was Price's 100th film and that would normally be a cause for celebration. Unfortunately, he hated making the movie, often citing it as one of the least favorite of his career. His relationship with AIP and Sam Z. Arkoff was on the skids at the time, no doubt contributing to Price's ire towards the film. All of this makes "Cry of the Banshee," despite its low standing in its star's career, something of the end of an era. It is often cited as Price's last gothic horror film, which is close enough to the truth. 

Lord Whitman is a rich magistrate, his grand manner overlooking a simple village. He is obsessed with stamping out the local witch community. Alongside his two sons and henchman Bully Boy, he often raids and terrorizes sabbaths and rituals. One such coven is led by a witch named Oona, who places a curse on the Whitman family in retaliation. An otherworldly spirit takes over the body of Roderick, the servant boy that both Whitman's daughter and wife are sleeping with. The supernatural activity increases: The eerie howl of a banshee is heard outside the castle at night. A demonic black dog begins to attack the locals. An inhuman beast prowls the grounds. Both Lady Patricia and Maureen Whitman have visions of madness. The Lord only increases his witch-hunting shenanigans in response to these events, seeking out Oona to end the curse.

Scholars of folk horror, or at least the people who made that long-ass documentary on the subject, refer to the three films that kicked off the modern iteration of the subgenre as the Unholy Trinity: 1968's "Witchfinder General," 1971's "Blood on Satan's Claws" and "The Wicker Man." "Cry of the Banshee" represents something of the bridge between those first two titles. It's a blatant imitation of Michael Reeves' film, featuring Vincent Price again in period garb and performing medieval torture on supposed witches. There's a branding, some stocks, a burning at the stake, and a spin on the breaking wheel. There's also some rape and coerced confessions. The rebellious witches frolic in nature with flowers in their hair, clearly drawing parallels to the hippy movement. The end credits go so far as to separate the cast into two opposing groups, the Witches and "The Establishment." "Blood on Satan's Claws" was going for more of a Manson family vibe than a flower power angle but both movies clearly look to the witch hunts of the past as a way to comment generational conflict of the early seventies.

Unfortunately, “Cry of the Banshees” seems uncertain about which side of this conflict we should root for. Now, obviously Lord Whitman and his raping, torturing cohorts are vile people who deserve our scorn. His wife and daughter, meanwhile, are largely innocent bystanders caught up in things. While the film certainly focuses on the cruelty of the witchhunters, it also takes place in a world where witchcraft is real and dark, magical powers do exist. This muddles the waters a bit. It's also simply another symptom of the film's inability to focus on one idea for too long at all. “Cry of the Banshee” has entirely too many characters, few of them being that distinct from one another or memorable. Forgive me if I couldn't always recall which of these guys is Whitman's evil son and which is merely his evil henchman. At one point, a random grave robber wanders into the story to drop some key information before wandering back out. The nature of the supernatural threat changes often too. The movie cycles through witchy curses, a black-coated demon dog, and an off-screen unearthly shriek before finally deciding on becoming a werewolf movie in the last third. It's all over-the-place, unfocused, and often hard to follow.

That doesn't leave the viewer much to enjoy. The interrogation and execution sequences lack the brutality and indignation of “Witchhunter General's” similar scenes. None of the film's other horrors are that intriguing. “Cry of the Banshee” was filmed at W.S. Gilbert's manor and that's a cool location. There's some okay use of shadow and colors. The glimpses we get of the werewolf make it look like a moldy-faced gorilla costume, making the choice to keep it to the shadows likely for the best. Price might not have thought much of the project but he is still doing his best to make it entertaining. There's a cool shot of him dressed like Henry VIII in that famous portrait. He doesn't play the character as only a cold-blooded villain, allowing the lord to show his fondness for his family and his steadfast belief in his own, wicked quest. Mostly, Price is at his campy best when showing wide-eyed panic and fear. Also, he gets to wield a blunderbust in a few scenes and that's fun too. 

“Cry of the Banshee” exists in two versions. Director Gordon Hessler's original cut runs 91 minutes long, features an animated opening credits sequence from Terry Gilliam, and a score by Wilfred Josephs. Before releasing the movie domestically, A.I.P cut out most of the nudity and some of the violence in order to receive a GP rating, taking the runtime down to 87 minutes. They also ditched the animated opening and had Les Baxter compose a new score. (AIP also slapped Edgar Allen Poe's name all over the posters, utilizing the same trick that turn “Witchfinder General” into “The Conqueror Worm” by briefly including some lines from one of Poe's poems – in this case, “The Bells” – at the beginning.) Neither cut of the movie features a banshee at all. Which is kind of disappointing. That would be a cool, underutilized monster to built a film around. While the director's cut is a slight improvement over the U.S. edit, “Cry of the Banshee” is subpar in any version. Vincent Price's theatrical vamping has elevated middling material before but this one mostly feels reheated from superior work. Also, the devil dog looks a little like my dog, presumably because all black German Shepherd mixes kind of look the same. [5/10] 

The Ray Bradbury Theater: A Sound of Thunder

It’s probably the most famous of Ray Bradbury’s short stories, to the point that it would eventually receive a (very bad) feature film adaptation. The premise, of dinosaurs and time travel from a futuristic society, are also quite ambitious. That’s probably why the low-budget “Ray Bradbury Theater” didn’t adapt it until the third season. For those who don’t know, “A Sound of Thunder” begins in a sci-fi future, where time travel has become common technology. Following an election where a fascist dictator nearly became President, big game hunter Eckels heads into the offices of Time Safari Inc. He pays an exorbitant cost to go back in time to the Mesozoic and hunt a T-Rex. His guide Travis gives him strict rules to follow: He must stay aboard a floating platform and can only kill animals already destined to die. Any other disturbance to the environment may have horrifying effects on the future... Rules that Eckels inevitably breaks. 

I honestly don’t know how famous Bradbury’s story is among people who don’t read science fiction. However, the central twist the story leads up to – that seemingly the most inconsequential of changes in the past can unknowingly have enormous effects on the future – has long since entered common knowledge. Bradbury’s story isn’t the origin of the term the butterfly effect but is often mistaken as such, because Ray also used a mere Lepidoptera as the symbol of how little things can set off chain reactions with massive consequences. Unfortunately, this has the downside of making any adaptation of “A Sound of Thunder” leading to a foregone conclusion. The minute the story introduces the idea of a strict set of rules that must be follow in the past, it’s only a matter of time before they are broken and birth a strange new future. 

If anything, I think the future that the death of one butterfly 65 million years ago sets off might be too similar to the one already established. The future the cast arrives in at the end isn’t that different from the one they left. It’s effectively the same except for two key changes: Language and writing is kind of fucked-up and the heavily foreshadowed crypto-fascist running for president has won, birthing an era of American Nazism. (Something that, ya know, could never happen.) Anything more elaborate than that was also probably outside the show’s budget. It’s also faithful to Bradbury’s story, likely because he wrote the script himself. Still, more extreme changes would probably be a better, more surprising illustration of simply how much that little butterfly – a species that really does date back to the Cretaceous – actually did matter to history. 

Then again, maybe Ray accidentally predicating the butterfly effect isn’t the point of the story so much. “A Sound of Thunder” is mostly a simple tale of hubris. Its big game hunter goes in search of dinosaurs because he believes he’s killed every dangerous creature alive. The sight of the tyrant lizard king, however, sends him into a panic. It turns out there is something bigger than himself and the idea terrifies him, leading to his downfall. I’m always happy to see shitty hunter types get what’s coming to them. Kiel Martin plays Eckles as properly haughty and then spineless, a good contrast to the ice cold but fearless take John Bach provides to his guide. The idea is simple: History shows again and again how nature points out the folly of man. A focus on that moral over what ends up happening would’ve resulted in a more satisfying pay-off, I think. Or perhaps that’s simply my familiarity with the source material and this episode featuring a mediocre animatronic dinosaur influencing my opinion. Still a better take on the story than the 2005 movie. [6/10]

Friday the 13th: The Series: Vanity's Mirror

Mirrors are objects loaded with symbolism, certainly when it comes to the topic of vanity, which makes it unsurprising that “Friday the 13th: The Series” would devote an episode to one. This one begins with a ragamuffin flower vendor attempting to convince the guy in a nice suit that buys roses from her every day to love her. When that doesn’t work, she reflects light from a compact in his eyes, magically inducing a powerful infatuation. This has deadly consequences. In the aftermath, homely high school student Helen Mackie picks up the compact. She quickly deduces its magical mechanics. She uses it to make the jocko friends of her sister’s handsome boyfriend – who, of course, Helen has a crush on – fall in love with her. And this show being what it is, all of those sudden love spells result in death too. When Micki showing up at the girl’s door is unsuccessful, Ryan goes undercover as a high school student to find out more. 

Auditioning for the part of an “ugly” girl, only to win the role, must be demoralizing for an actor. That unfortunately sets up what is the rather fucked moral of “Vanity’s Mirror.” The script never considers that unfair social pressures placed on young women to make themselves stand up to an impossible beauty standard might deserve any blame for this situation. The woman in the first scene is simply a villain. Helen is not much more sympathetic. A few hours after figuring out how the mirror works, she is already callously engineering the gruesome death of somebody. She becomes fully ruthless right after that, never once being shocked or unsettled by the violence she is reaping. The unusually down-beat end of the episode is similarly pitiless to the girl. This one ends without any sense of “justice” being served and seems to come to the conclusion of “Well, some people are just ugly, inside and out, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” 

I, for one, do not agree with this. I believe it’s cartoonishly unfair to a sixteen year old girl to turn her into a remorseless serial killer and then off her in such a callous way, for the crime of being “ugly.” Whatever happened to the idea of beauty being subjective? Let’s not take the side of the high school bullies here. I get that “Friday the 13th: The Series” only has forty-five minutes to tell its story and is, on the best of days, still a fairly dumb or silly show. However, this one left me feeling depressed in a decidedly un-satisfying fashion. Using demonically infused mundane objects to make someone fall in love with you is bad, as “Obsession” already hammered into our heads this season. But, I dunno, maybe making a young girl with an ungainly nose and some acme into a serial killer simply because she has a crush on her sister’s boyfriend is kind of shitty. 

Outside of all of that, I suppose this episode has one or two moments. The instantly recognizable Zack Ward – not exactly a traditionally handsome fella himself and the episode doesn’t shit on his looks – appears as the first of Helen’s victims. His demise occurs off-screen but, by the standards of broadcast television in the eighties, is still quite gruesome. The second death is bloody too. Nebulous as its connection to Jason’s rampages was, this show was definitely doing its best to bring some Hollywood style gore to the small screen. However, the plot point of Ryan going undercover as a teenager is laughable. Moreover, he spends a large fraction of this episode unconscious on a floor. In fact, I’m pretty sure this is an episode of “Friday the 13th” where the Curious Goods crew have almost no effect on the plot at all. I guess Jack does save the sister from an unfortunate death trap but, otherwise, all of these events would have played out in the exact same manner without their involvement. Odd episode. [5/10]

Halloween 2026: September 19th

 

Faces of Death (2026)
 

How do you remake "Faces of Death," not exactly a narrative film that mostly drew attention for including – or claiming to include, anyway – real footage of people dying? It's not like a major studio was going to stitch together genuine autopsy and car wreck footage and drop that shit in AMCs nationwide. Secondly, why would you want to? Does the title have much name recognition among the general public, outside the realm of hardcore horror buffs? These are the debates I recall with my MovieManiacs.net forum bros all the way back in 2006, when it was announced that Universal's genre label Rogue Pictures would be remaking "Faces of Death." This was during the 2000's remake trend, when seemingly every cult classic of any note was getting a greenlight for a shiny redo. So "Faces," of all titles, was an unlikely pick but truly no more obscure than "The House on Sorority Row" or "Don't Be Afraid of the Dark." J.T. Petty was attached, a filmmaker who had previously made a mockumentary about snuff films, leading to speculation that his "Faces of Death" would follow a similar route. I vaguely recall some chatter about turning Dr. Gröss into a proper horror villain. Obviously, this iteration didn't get beyond the embryonic stage. Petty made a few more movies but seems to have shifted his focus to writing for video games these days. Rogue Pictures faced death in 2018. 

In the intervening twenty years, cell phones with HD cameras, inescapable social media, and a world more divided than ever has made real footage of death and destruction distressingly accessible. Clearly, in such a landscape, the idea of a new "Faces of Death" remained intriguing. This is presumably why Legendary acquired the rights in 2021, Daniel Goldhaber and Isa Mazzei attached to write and direct. Considering their film "Cam" had some real insight into life in the digital age, I was very curious about what form this project might take. Filmed in 2023, Goldhaber and Mazzei's "Faces of Death" spent three years trying to find distribution before IFC and Shudder actually did put it in AMCs nationwide this past April. It didn't make a lot of money but won positive reviews from the horror press, so time for me to catch up.

Margot is an adrift twenty-something working as a content moderator at Kino, a short-form video focused app. When an upload is reported, she's the one who has to make the choice of whether it contains objectionable material. She has chosen this difficult job as a way to cope with her own internet-related trauma: While performing a viral dance on some tracks, her sister was killed by an oncoming train. The clip leaked online and Margot became forever known as “Train Girl.” At work, she is presented with a clip depicting a bound person being decapitated by automated mannequins. She assumes it to be fake but the imagery sticks with her. Similar uploads soon appear, each depicting a person being violently killed by mechanized mannequins while a droll voice-over describes what is happening. Margot becomes increasingly convinced that the uploads are real and, after some sleuthing and with help from her horror buff roommate, learns that these are recreations of moments from the infamous “Faces of Death.” She's right. The videos are the work of Arthur, an internet-obsessed serial killer who is capturing people and using them as props in his deadly remake. Margot investigates further, soon drawing the attention of Arthur himself. 

As much as tech company overlords hope to eventually replace all paycheck demanding employees with computational models, as of this moment, a human being is double-checking the online content reported by a third party. This means every time a gore video, child pornography, animal abuse, and every other horrible thing you can imagine is taken down off Youtube or TikTok, presumably at least two sets of flesh-and-blood eyeballs had to look at it first. Unsurprisingly, this is a profession with a high rate of turnover, most not willing to deal with the psychological scars of seeing the worst humanity has to offer for eight hours a day. Setting a story around a job such as this is a fascinating premise. Now corporations are essentially paying people to watch private little “Faces of Death” videos every day, all day. If you stretch this idea out further, it means that shocking and violent imagery has become ubiquitous on the modern internet. Every time we open our app of choice, we are all taking a chance of seeing something way worse than staged footage of monkey brains being eaten. 

Goldhaber and Mazzei touch on the side effects of this in interesting ways. At the beginning of the story, Margot is no longer phased by videos of people taking nasty falls or of a bear dragging away a possibly dead body. She dismisses the first real murder she observes as a clever hoax. When she wants to get the police involved, her boss informs her to hold back, to allow disturbing content (as long as it's “fake”) to proliferate for now, because it's good for the shareholders. Outrageous content drives eyeballs and that makes money. When trying to determine if what she is seeing is real, she posts the clips to Reddit, where one commenter declares them to likely be real and then says it's a “nice find.”  What the fuck has the world done to us, where watching real death and human degradation has become a tedious job to some and a fascinating hobby to others? 

The film has few concrete answers, which are probably impossible to find anyway. Margot's own life is a consequence of this modern age. Where we are all obsessed with watching, real tragedies are recorded and spread around endlessly, and we all face it with little sense of injustice or outrage. Watching your little sister get hit by a train sucks and being constantly reminded of this all the time must surely chip away at the soul. Margot's personal tragedy has been reduced to a meme. That viral penetration is what the film's villain hopes to create with his murder clips, to achieve infamy by turning his victims' dying moments into internet hits. One of the first people he abducts is a would-be social media star, a teenage girl whose life seems to revolve around her phone's lens. Eventually, all Margot can do is accept her infamy and do her best to live on. The powers that be – the cops, the corporate overseers, other people with the power to step in – aren't going to do anything about it. It's up to the individual. This is the world we live in and we're stuck with it, some of us doomed to hunger for that viral superstardom and others cursed by it. 

It's the most honest conclusion the filmmakers could probably come to, even if it causes their “Faces of Death” to brush up against the often regurgitated horror theme of resolving personal trauma. However, more interesting ideas are within the film and remain frustratingly unexplored. When Margot first sees the violent clips, she doesn't believe they are real. (Much as in the original “Faces of Death,” a movie that less honestly played with the layers of reality.) This is also something all of us must deal with. All of us most be critical and skeptical of everything we see online now, because any of it could be fake. If we doubt our own eyes, what even is reality? The film's murderer is a sociopath, who sees other people as nothing but a means to an end. He cynically decides to pattern his killing spree after a cult classic 1970s mondo movie because “people love remakes.” It'll draw more attention to his crimes and insure his name goes down in history. All of his victims, people with lives and dreams of their own the script reminds us, might as well be A.I. simulacrums to him. This is not unlike an ice-cold studio exec, reducing all artistic endeavor to “content” that must be deployed in a calculated, revenue-generating fashion. Then again, if you watch a video about Iranian children burning to death after their home is struck by a missile and then pause and wonder “Is this AI generated?,” that's a damning statement about how the modern, capitalized era has fundamentally altered the empathy centers in all of our brains. 

The film ultimately looses the thread of the malleability of the truth, what that means for us, and how it reflects on our relationship with all the images we see on a screen. This must still be a thrilling narrative. That it certainly is. Mazzei and Goldhaber's script is well organized. They patiently, naturally lays out minor details that will become important later. Rather than Chekov's Gun, we have Chekov's Opioid Antagonist and Chekov's Metal Spike. The film is extremely tight in its editing. A split-screen sequence devoted to showing how Arthur easily determines Margot's identity and location from what she's posted online is a chilling reflection of how fragile our personal safety is now. The killer's identity being revealed right away allows multiple sequences of drawn-out suspense, where we watch as an unaware victim is observed by the person who means them harm. Multiple well done sequences of sneaking around, hoping to avoid detection, follow. The script smartly keeps other information close to its chest, waiting to reveal some aspects of Arthur's operation until Margot herself is discovering it. An attack in a darkened suburban home or a race from the killer's lair, as he spies his fleeing victims through the scope of a rifle, are excellently assembled variations on the same slasher movie tropes and Hitchcockian thriller techniques we've seen a hundred times before. 

If 2026's “Faces of Death” falls short of the bigger ideas it plays with, I can't hold that against the filmmakers too much. Goldfaber and Mazzei are extremely smart and know what they are doing. They've made a suspenseful, absorbing, grim horror movie here. More than one person has declared it to be a better “Scream” reboot than the actual “Scream” reboots we've gotten. This is also true, the movie actually presenting interesting observations about our modern relationships with violent images, old and new, within the context of an exciting killer thriller. The killer even wears a white mask, though the red contact lens are a nice touch. Also much like a “Scream” movie, Darce Montgomery's serial killer explains the thesis behind his master plan, also explaining part of what the filmmakers mean too. Montgomery also probably goes a little too far in acting like a screeching weirdo. (He also calls someone a “cuck” which, along with his overall shouting demeanor, causes us to assume he's right-wing or incel adjacent.) There's at least one sick, gnarly reveal that made me gag. The film also includes probably the best depiction I've seen yet of someone falling down an internet rabbit hole and becoming obsessed with a bizarre mystery they've discovered. Margot is so absorbed with getting the truth out that she actually delays escaping from the villain's house sooner, much to the annoyance of the other person there. Which is a good way to signal to the viewer that we are suppose to find her commitment to solving this thing unreasonably. But sometimes you get caught up in stuff.  

As a homage to John Alan Schwartz' largely mercenary original, 2026's “Faces of Death” is probably better than it deserves. The infamous Gorgon Video VHS release gets prominently featured. The re-creations of the original's most infamous moments are arguably creepier and better made here than in the seventies film. Should've sneaked the original's corny-ass theme song in there somewhere though. I was waiting for that. I also was amused by the way the remake's marketing played on the sense of being forbidden, much like the original did. Good to know we can still kind of pull that marketing gimmick off in the modern day, even if it's largely ironic. On the short list of meta “remakes,” this is a pretty good one. The ultimate horror film about the terror of the social media age and the dehumanizing effects of living behind a screen has yet to be made but this one is well done. Legendary missed a chance to make a collectable hollowed out monkey head popcorn bucket though. [7/10]

Devil's Bride (1974)
Velnio nuotaka

I don't buy movies on discs as much as I used to or would like to. This is mostly out of a desire to save money and because physical space for my collections is at a premium these days. Another reason is that the boutique DVD scene moves faster than I can keep up with. It seems like every month, a new label devoted to unearthing hidden gems and exporting international obscurities has popped up. What the hell is Deaf Crocodile, aside from a semi-aquatic reptile with a hearing aid? It's a home media company launched in 2025 that mostly specializes in art house cinema and animation from Eastern Europe and former Soviet Bloc countries. They are doing noble work but this is a corner of the film buff world I don't often explore. I first read about "Devil's Bride" years ago, a folk horror-tinged musical considered a classic in its home country of Lithuania. I assumed it was one of those titles so obscure in the English-speaking world that I would probably never get to see it. Instead, Deaf Crocodile gave it a loving restoration and it's currently streaming for free on Tubi. What a time to be alive. Let's delve into this more. 

Our story begins in Heaven, with a flock of angels singing the praises of a sleepy, bored God on a golden throne. Whenever he nods off, the angels sneak away to indulge in some earthly vices. One such ethereal being's not-so-virtuous activities are discovered and plucked out of Heaven. The being lands on Earth as the demon, Pinčiukas. He is soon found by elderly miller, Baltaragis, who ensnares the devil and makes him his slave. Baltaragis insists that the demon give him a beautiful wife and success and, in exchange, Pinčiukas will receive the couple's first-born daughter. This comes to pass but demons are a tricky sort and Baltaragis' wife perishes after birthing their daughter. The child grows up into Jurga, a stunning young woman. She quickly catches the eye of traveling laborer Girdvainus and the two fall in love. Determined to get his promised end of the bargain, Pinčiukas goes about manipulating and tricking the people in the village into breaking the young couple up. (While Baltaragis, full of regret, tries to set the demon up with his hefty, sexually veracious sister.) 

The first thing you'll notice about "Devil's Bride" is the stunning photography. The film is in vibrant color. The red interior lighting of the mill, Jurga's golden blonde hair, and the orange gowns of Pinčiukas' demonesses all pop right out. The most prominent colors are the natural greens and blues of the gorgeous Lithuanian countryside. Most of the film takes place in the rolling fields, lush forests, and quint lakes of the area. This setting is made further picturesque by wonderfully engineered props, like that striking windmill, God's golden throne, or a festooned window that shows up a few times. That last detail points towards what is the film's greatest strength, its sense of whimsy. Among Pinčiukas' various japes is summoning a black carriage out of a swamp, causing black-gloved hands to pop out of the water, or making coins rain from the sky. Those orange-clad familiars of his never contribute much to the story but are at the film's margins, boogieing down in the woods or throwing smoke bombs around. While the setting is ostensibly grounded in historical reality, lightly surreal touches like these created a dreamy tone of fantasy, play, and myth. "Devil's Bride" is, in other words, a fairy tale that fully transports its viewer to a place that looks a bit like our world but where much more fantastical things can happen. 

This is a fitting atmosphere for a musical to capture. Characters bursting into song and dance already establish this as an improbable story so it's good that the environment matches. The clear visual inspiration for "Devil's Bride," at least to my doofus American eyes with no prior familiarity with Lithuanian cinema, is "The Sound of Music." While these hills and field are certainly alive with melodies and harmonies, the soundtrack is far from Rogers and Hammerstein. "Devil's Bride" is instead powered by a consistently groovy rock guitar. There's a little bit of fuzz to the funky chords too, rooting the film's sound firmly to the early seventies psychedelic rock scene. "Devil's Bride" is a sung-through musical and I don't usually like those. It's hard for any song to stick out from the rest when the entire movie is singing. Individual melodies or lyrics tend to fade into a mishmash of indistinct notes. I guess "Devil's Bride" is not immune to this. I wasn't humming any bars or had any single songs stuck in my head after watching. However, the various movements are linked enough to the individual scenes, and the feelings they are summoning, to make it work for me. The music here is fun and bouncy, sung in a meaningful way, and always matches the emotional flow of the story. 

The most prominent of those emotions is longing. Every character in the film wants something. Pinčiukas gets kicked out of heaven because he wants to do something other than chanting "Holy holy" while circling Yahweh's throne. Once cast into the mortal realm, he wants his freedom and the girl. Jurga wants Girdvainus, Girdvainus wants Jurga. Her dad longs for his dead wife and for his daughter to be set free from the devilish deal he made. Even the side characters are characterized by unfulfilled desires. The town drunk dreams of unlimited money, with which he can buy endless booze and infinite women with, and he sells his soul to get it. The impish Pinčiukas is an object of desire too, for the miller's sister. (Who, in an amusing Winona Ryder/Jamiroquai situation, is randier than the diabolic beau she's set up with.) This makes every song in this singing/dancing musical an I Want song, connecting this archetypal story to a universal feeling. Everybody knows what it's like to want something they can't have, usually in matters of the heart. The solution the film finds brings its heavenly prologue down to Earth. Pinčiukas learns to love the one he's with and the united lovers find divine, ever-lasting bliss with each other. Ooh baby, do you know what that's worth? The final image is one of the funniest takes on a story's cast – even the demonic trickster – living happily ever after that I've seen recently, pulled off with the film's trademark casually surreal humor. 

"Devil's Bride" is probably not the best choice for an autumnal horror marathon. Yes, there are demons in the story but the main one is a guy with a silly beard in a funny hat, not horns and hooves. His acts of supernatural deception are more mischievous than startling. The eternal damnation that usually follows deals with devils doesn't come up much. (This is opposed to the source material, a 1945 novel by Kazys Boruta with a notably downbeat conclusion.) The element that most pushes the movie into the spooky set is a last act montage of "Witchfinder General" style binding and dunking. Otherwise, this one is heavy on the "folk" but not-so-much the horror. There's been a couple of horror movies made in Lithuania more recently, if you're trying to find a truly macabre example. However, I still had a great time with "Devil's Bride," a brief but delightful dose of music and the fantastique rich with  cultural specificity. [7/10]

In Search Of...: The Ogopogo Monster

 

Much like his “Star Trek” co-lead, Leonard Nimoy was a great Canadian export. This makes it only sensible that, while monologing gravely about preposterous bullshit on “In Search Of...,” that he would discuss what is commonly called Canada's Loch Ness Monster. That would be Ogopogo, a serpent-like creature said to inhabit British Columbia's Lake Okanagan. The “In Search Of...” crew did their due diligence and connect the legend to local tales from the Secwepmc and Syilx tribes. They talk of a spirit dwelling in the lake called Naitaka, who offerings are made to before crossing. The documentary crew also sought out a diver, who swims around the lake and finds nothing much but rocks and cold. Mostly, the half-hour is filled out with stories from people who have claimed to have seen the monster. Before “in Search Of...” presents what they call the most compelling piece of evidence of Ogopogo's existence: A blurry home movie of a dark, splotchy shape moving under the water. 

As I mentioned when talking about “In Search OF's” episode devoted to Bigfoot, it's hard to deny that the evidence presented here isn't that convincing. Nimoy's host segments note how sincere and credible these eye-witness accounts are. This is in the same episode where some local pranksters pushed three tires attached to a inflatable dingy out onto the lake to hoax the TV show. When you look at the playful smiles on the faces of the people telling their tales, or the hard-to-believe claim that a couple has seen the serpent “forty or fifty times,” I would say we can never dispel people's tendency to just make shit up for their own amusement. Nor the need of authors to sell their work, as the presenter of the above mentioned home movie also wrote a book on the topic of Ogopogo. 

A scientist at an aquarium  compares what he supposedly saw in Lake Okanagan to a shark's skin. That would be a more notable statement if even experts weren't susceptible to bias and their own imagination. The episode's most convincing statements come from the episode's resident skeptic, trotted at the end. He points out that the lake is too small to support a breeding population of such a large animal. That it was formed by glaciers millions of years ago, with no connection to larger bodies of water since then. Though he does concede that “sea monsters,” in the sense of a large animal of some sort living in the depths of the ocean, can be said to exist. 

This episode probably needed more of “In Search Of's” trademark creaky reenactments. The episode begins with a pretty good segment re-creating a young wake-boarder screaming upon encountering the supposed beast. Otherwise, we simply get footage of some Native Americans sitting around a camp fire. Which isn't to say this episode doesn't have some camp value. The extremely Canadian accents of the people interviewed made me chuckle, with one fellow even ending his sentence with “eh?” Or a reporter who describes coming to the lake and hearing about the monster with baffled amusement. “In Search Of...” was never great television but it was incredibly cozy. I am not immune to the charms of lo-fi blurping seventies electronic music playing over footage of Moray eels squirming around a tank. [7/10]

 

Friday the 13th: The Series: Tales of the Undead

 

I think we've previously seen Ryan reading some comic books in past episodes of "Friday the 13th: The Series." It would seem it is more of a passion for him than previously revealed, as "Tales of the Undead" begins with him visiting his local comic shop. The owner has recently come into possession of a rare original copy of "Tales of the Undead #1," the first appearance of a hugely popular superhero named Ferrus the Invincible. To increase its value, the book has also been signed by Jay Star, the character's creator. A kid in the shop desires the pricey book and breaks into the display case to steal it. Upon grabbing the comic, he turns into Ferrus and murders the shop owner. Ryan and Micki determine the comic is the latest cursed artifact they have to track down. They reach out to Jay Star, an elderly and ill man who was screwed out of his share of the profits his character has made for the publisher. Upon hearing about what happened, Star tracks down the thief and grabs the magic book himself. Now able to change into the indestructible robot hero he created, the old man sets out to take revenge on those that wronged him. The only way Ryan and Micki can stop the monster, they believe, is to track down the lost artwork for the scraped issue that killed Ferrus the Invincible off. 

"Tales of the Undead" is one of those "Friday the 13th" episodes that feature a notable name in the opening credits. Alfred Sole, director of "Alice, Sweet Alice," apparently worked on the story for this one. In some ways, the episode suggests that the writers were quite familiar with the world of comics. The set-up nods at the speculators' market around the hobby that was shortly to reach its peak around this time. "Jay Star" is acknowledged to be a pen name based on the author's possibly Jewish or Polish last name, another insider detail. Mostly, the story of an artist who created a long-running character that has made millions for its parent company. but has been left penniless in his old age is as familiar to the industry as heroes fighting villains. The struggles of Siegel and Shuster or Jack Kirby to regain some control over the iconic heroes they created are well known. Even today, writers and artists whose work formed the basis for billion dollar franchises have to turn to GoFundMe to pay off medical bills or die from treatable conditions. 

In other ways, "Tales of the Undead" seems weirdly out-of-touch with the world of caped heroes it's riffing on. The focus on Star writing a story that kills Ferrus off, in the hopes that would at least spite those that betrayed him, is one thing. The idea that the company would not publish such a story, because they can't kill off their golden goose, is frankly implausible. When have comic companies ever been reluctant to kill off popular heroes that can easily be resurrected later? It's also a little weird that a superhero would debut in a comic called "Tales of the Undead." Maybe this was an example of a horror book following market trends and changing its focus after the debut of a popular character. That idea rubs counter to this being a first issue or published in the thirties though. Ferrus, a towering and hyper-violent robot guy, does seem more like a villain than a hero. I guess this could be an Incredible Hulk or Etrigan the Demon situation.  

That's just me being a nerd though. "Tales of the Undead" is a decent episode otherwise. Whenever someone transforms into Ferrus the Invincible, there are comic book panel style transitions. This is a clever workaround for what was surely the limited budget the episode had and also a neat homage to the media the episode is based on. A special guest star is brought into play Jay Star: Ray Walston, of "My Favorite Martian." This is the kind of part very much in need of an industry old-timer with plenty of age and experience on his face. Walston is good, showing a genuine anger at those that screwed him and even some creditable villainous cruelty as the episode goes on. The sequences with the killer robot are a bit awkward but mostly decently done. I wish the script was a little more consistent about how indestructible this supposedly invincible guy is though. He goes down fairly easily in two scenes. I also like the detail of Micki initially being dismissive of old comic books before getting hooked on them. The episode uses that turn-of-events as a prelude to more flirting cousins shenanigans, of course. Do you think Ferrus the Invincible ever crossed over with the Escapist or Condorman? [7/10]