Halloween 2026: September 12th

 

Psycho II (1983)

“Psycho” irreversibly changed the horror genre and, some would surely argue, not necessarily for the better. While Hitchcock's original remained respectable, the imitators that followed Norman Bates focused more on his habit of piercing exposed flesh with bladed instruments than the shadows of his perverted psychology. By the time the slasher boom of the eighties was rolling, surely some professional critics were starting to think that maybe Hitch opened a real can of worms when he yanked that shower curtain back. Robert Bloch certainly seemed to think so. While the order of events is not entirely clear on if Universal was seriously considering a continuation to “Psycho” at the time or not, the author would publish his own sequel in 1982. Bloch's “Psycho II” is a book clearly designed to not be easily adapted to celluloid. Furthermore, it's an obvious reaction to what the horror film had become by the eighties, disgusted by the perceived sexual sadism in the slasher film and seeming especially unimpressed with Italian directors whose first name's end with the letter O.

Whether Bloch was spurned on by the news of a cinematic “Psycho II” or if Universal began to consider a “Psycho II” after the publication of the book, it was evident that Bloch's book was not going to have anything to do with the forthcoming movie. And what filmmaker would have the balls to attempt to follow up Alfred Hitchcock? A sequel to a film as revered and imitated as “Psycho” was going to be judged harshly, no matter how it turned out. Universal seemed to have low expectations for the project too, initially planning on sending the sequel direct-to-cable-TV. Possibly starting Christopher Walken, if Anthony Perkins was unwilling to return. A sharp script from Tom Holland, merely the writer of “The Beast Within” and not yet the director of “Fright Night,” did convince Perkins to return. Perkins' presence and Richard Franklin – a literal student of Hitchcock whose previous work had been positively compared to him – in the director's chair got “Psycho II” upgraded to a theatrical release. While the sequel was still hotly debated at the time, history has been kind to it. 

After two decades in a mental institute, Norman Bates has been deemed fully rehabilitated. His release is protested by Lila Crane, Marion's surviving sister who is now Lila Loomis. His shrink thinks it's a bad idea but Norman insists on moving back into the old Bates house, still standing behind the notorious motel. Norman gets a job working in a local diner and quickly makes a connection with Mary, a waitress with boyfriend problems. Norman's post-imprisonment life is not smooth. The sleazy jerk who currently owns the hotel is harassing him. Most pressingly, he is receiving phone calls and letters from someone claiming to be his Mother. It's not long before someone is lurking around the hotel in a dress and wielding a butcher knife. Norman fears that his sanity is slipping again. He doesn't know that “Mary” is actually Lila Crane's daughter and they are conspiring to drive him back into the mad house. But the question remains: Is Norman truly cured or does his perverse desires and murderous alter-ego remain?

Here in America, we are not great at rehabilitating criminals. Our justice system ostensibly operates under the assumption that everyone is innocent until proven guilty, that anyone can be a functioning member of society again after doing their time. The truth is that the stigma of being an ex-convict makes most people pariahs, exactly the kind of societal undesirables who usually end up doing illegal things. Norman Bates wasn't just a killer but the titular psycho too. This makes him a lot more like a sex offender or drug user, where his previous actions are seen not as a circumstance of his situation but as an innate rot within his soul. This is, perhaps, an understandable reaction. Murder leaves family members grieving for the rest of their lives. How do you forgive someone for taking a person you care about away from you, before their time? It is a task easier said than done and the temptation to believe that once a killer, always a killer is difficult to overcome. Rather than merely being a cash-in slasher sequel, "Psycho II" instead asks an intriguing question: Does Norman Bates deserve to be forgiven for what he's done? Is it possible for him to change his ways?

Holland's script adds on to this set-up in a way that Hitchcock perhaps might have approved of. You could never make a “Halloween” sequel where Michael Myers is a sympathetic anti-hero. Rob Zombie tried and it was not well received. “Psycho II,” meanwhile, actually puts Norman Bates in the victimized role for most of the runtime. The audience figures out quickly that someone is trying to gaslight Norman into killing again. That others are pressuring his blood-thirst to flare up once more. That's apparent from the moment Lila Crane protests his release hearing. The suspense of the sequel is dependent on whether or not “Mother” will act up again. Or in the ambiguity of how many of Norman's experiences are genuine hallucinations and how much are people fucking with him. It's a good idea, not only because it centers the story around the most compelling character in the “Psycho” narrative anyway. Not only because it begets conversation on difficult ideas like justice, forgiveness, and responsibility. It's also simply good writing, that nicely strings the viewer along and keeps us wondering about the pay-off right up until the end.

What most elevates “Psycho II” above the trashy slasher sequel it might have been is a surprisingly strong cast. There's an unavoidable meta quality to Anthony Perkins returning to the role of Norman Bates after twenty-two years. Perkins' casting in the original was a subversion of his boy-next-door persona that worked so well it rewrote his entire career. For the rest of his life, he vacillated between fighting against and embracing this perception. When we see Norman trying to reintegrate back into society, we're also seeing Anthony Perkins trying to re-establish himself as a respectable leading man. However, the aura of depravity remains around him. He stammers during normal conversations, an anxiousness over looking “normal” and functioning properly always under the surface. There is a real sincerity in “Psycho II's” treatment of Norman. It wants him to be a good person, to heal from his traumatic upbringing and leave the spectre of Norma and shower slayings behind him forever. However, Perkins does a lovely job of always hinting at the shifting instability underneath, making both a compelling protagonist and adding to the suspenseful layers of the story.

This is especially true of the relationship with the girl. Hitchcock's “Psycho” never quite convincingly teased out the idea that Norman and Marion Crane had any sexual tension between them. The dinner scene is fraught with uneasiness. She's not going to run off with this weirdo, not even if he wasn't destined to murder her while wearing a dress. The sequel is different, despite the female lead having much more cause to be distrustful of Norman. Meg Tilly's elfin quality, in her Tinkerbell haircut and big ol' doe eyes and soft voice, is well suited the sort of kind soul who might actually forgive a man like Norman. The audience knows she's there to gaslight him into going mad again, long before the script reveals that information. However, when they share scenes together in the isolation of the Bates home kitchen, you feel a pull between them. We only know a shade of Mary's story but the feeling is that, perhaps, she's a bit of a lost soul too. When she cradles weirdo Norman, Perkins turning the twitch up as he rambles about “toasted cheese sandwiches,” it's still sort of sweet. Norman never had a mother figure that actually allowed him to be vulnerable. Here's a woman willing to offer kindness. Whether it could ever be romantic is questionable. Tilly's performance has a level of gentle sensuality to it, emphasized by a body double-provided shower scene and a tight tank-top. But Norman needs platonic acceptance more than sexy time. Nevertheless, the two have a quirky chemistry together. The real tenderness to their interaction is tinged with uncertainty and suspense over what each parties' true motivations are

This dramatic tension inevitably bends towards the implausible. The climax of “Psycho II” is pretty silly and contrived. That's the main issue with the sequel. It's a follow-up to a film regarded as one of the all-time greats in its genre. Everyone making “Psycho II” knew they had no chance of topping the original. Instead of trying to one-up Hitchcock's style, Richard Franklin and cinematographer Dean Cundy actually dial it back a little. The film is wonderfully shot but with less noir lighting than the first, taking a more grounded approach in general. “Psycho II” coming out knee-deep in the slasher boom means the film also has to juggle expectations. Do you embrace the flesh and blood approach the original spawned or do you aspire to a more subtle style? Franklin does his best to engineer suspense. The most blatantly slasher-y scene, teens sneaking into the fruit cellar of the Bates house to screw around and then being stalked by a knife-wielding fiend, aims to create tension over tossing around the red stuff. Later scenes are more blatantly gory. Two gags, in which a butch knife is inserted into a sensitive orifice or impales someone in unlikely circumstances, are a lot of fun to the Fangoria crowd. They also feel like unavoidable concessions to the horror conventions of the time. It's hard to say if Franklin's heart is actually in the slaughter or not.

What is apparent about those two moments, and the film's epilogue, is that the filmmaker is well in-tune with the twisted sense of humor inherent to Hitchcock. The finale operates like a visual gag, a shovel coming down on the back of the head like a punchline. There's also certainly a kinky, teasing absurdity to a murder like deep-throating a knife. Every positive review of “Psycho II” had a begrudging air about it. Critics expected a bullshit slasher stain on the reputation of the original, which could never be topped. Instead, they got a respectful and well orchestrated follow-up with more skill behind it and more on its mind than expected. Horror fans being the contrarian dweebs they are, you've had some people emerge and say they prefer part two to the iconic original. I wouldn't go that far. Saying “Psycho II” is not as good as one of the best films ever made doesn't preclude it from still being a good movie in its own right. Richard Franklin had an impossible task but proved up to the challenge. Triumphing over low expectations is not the most impressive sounding of feats but “Psycho II” deserves its roses anyway. [8/10]

 

 

Alucarda (1977)
Alucarda, la hija de las tinieblas

Film, like any artistic medium, tends to go in cycles. A picture is released, becoming popular or sinking into obscurity. It is then dug up, usually to be showcased in a new format, only for that technology to fade out of usage and take the title with it. Maybe the next time the picture is rediscovered, its reputation as a classic will stick. I certainly had never heard of “Alucarda,” when Mondo Macabra released it on DVD in the 2000s and splashed ads for it all over Fangoria magazine. However, the 1977 religious horror picture would soon climb up the list of beloved cult classics after that, some going so far as to call it the best Mexican horror movie ever made. In the decade since then, the film has fallen out of discussion a little bit. The standard definition disc is still easily found but no Blu-Ray or 4K reissue has followed. I'm sure, once Arrow or Vinegar Syndrome or somebody like that locates a decent print, Juan López Moctezuma's tale of religious madness will be thrust back into the spotlight of cult movie circles. I never forget a title, however, so I'm happy to make this one my Mexican pick for this year's Horror Around the World tour. 

Minutes after giving birth to her, Alucarda's mother donated the girl to a Catholic convent in hopes of protecting her from demonic influence. She has remained there ever since, growing into a spirited but lonely teenager. That's when Justine, another orphan Alucarda's age, arrives at the home. The two quickly become inseparable. Shortly afterwards, they stumble upon the place where Alucarda was buried and her mother died. At their next Mass, the two girls begin to act strangely. They profess loyalty to Satan, attack the resident padre, and drive the nuns into fits of self-flagellation. Father Lazaro declares that an exorcism must be performed, the girls being tortured during the processed. A more enlightened priest named Oszek arrives and stops the ritual, claiming that such practices are barbaric... But Satan is indeed among the them. 

Before making “Alucarda,” Juan López Moctezuma would produce Alejandro Jodorowsky's first two features. Which means he was definitely aware of the international film making scene. Despite being a wholly Mexican production, “Alucarda” recalls many European horror flicks of the decade. There are shades of Jess Franco, in the mixing of girl-on-girl eroticism and gothic tropes. (Not to mention several crash-zooms.) The mixing of intense, sometimes campy violence and Catholic imagery makes me think of Lucio Fulci. The script is partially based on “Carmilla,” it seems unlikely “The Exorcist” wasn't an influence, and references are made to the same historical events that inspired “The Devils.” “Alucarda” feels a lot like what you'd probably get if Franco, Fulci, Ken Russell, and Terence Fischer all took passes on the same material. The tone vacillates between artsy, cheesy, sleazy, and creepy. Sometimes within the same scene, such as the Satanic orgy full of frontal nudity that ends with the potent imagery of a demonic goat leering over the girls' faces. “Alucarda” is vile and blasphemous but also classier than your usual nunsploitation flick, feeling more in-tune with literary traditions and folkloric ambiances. 

A film drawing from all those divergent influences and styles, unsurprisingly, is not the most cohesive. Nor the most narratively coherent, as the story is a bit formless and new characters pop in the last third. For whatever flaws “Alucarda” does have, a lack of intensity certainly isn't one of them. The film taps into a real sense of malevolence at times. The vision Justine and Alucarda have in their bedroom, bending her spine backwards before a demonic envoy appears, has a properly spiritual vibe to it. This is contrasted with a nun floating into the air in a fit of religious frenzy. Shortly after that, the film turns its eye on sadistic violence. The exorcism sequence focus on the pain and suffering the girls' feel. That forbidden air bends towards camp before the end. The climax is a succession of nuns bursting into flames, a gloriously silly and over-the-top spectacle sure to stimulate the third eye of any cult/horror dweeb. However, in its sickest moments, “Alucarda” does give the impression of actual having the devil in it. Or at least an incensed fury at abuses performed by religious authorities.

That thread is probably the part of “Alucarda” that left me the most puzzled. Clearly taking some inspiration from “Witchfinder General” and “Mark of the Devil” too, the film shows an outrage at the torments performed in the name of God. When Dr. Oszek decries exorcism as an arcane practice from a less enlightened age, the movie certainly seems on his side. Any movie that sets this many nuns on fire is clearly pissed at the Catholic Church. At the same time, the possible ambiguity about whether something Satanic is going on in this convent is dispelled long before the end. Faith, when paired with isolation and mania, can convince anyone they or someone else are possessed. However, even the skeptical Oszek has his mind changed before the end. “Alucarda” is neither a condemnation of religious persecution nor an unironic invoking of Satanic Panics past and future. It is indecisively balanced between the two. 

“Alucarda” could have grounded its images of demonic hysteria and willfully sacrilegious violence a little easier. As far as adaptations of le Fanu's “Carmilla” goes, this is a very loose one.  However, the bond between the girls is still central to the movie. Alucarda and Justine's relationship freely crosses back and forth between best friends, sisters, and lovers. Maybe it's just because I've watched “Poison for the Fairies” and 'Don't Deliver Us From Evil” in past Halloweens but I found myself wishing that relationship was more fleshed-out. Maybe it's because “Alucarda” was filmed sans sound and dubbed in post, like so much other EuroSleaze before it, but the performances are tricky to get a bead on. I like Tina Romero and Susana Kamini in the roles. Jean Rollins' certainly got deeper feelings of romantic longing and freedom of expression out of less talented actresses. Still, “Alucarda” never quite allows the viewer to feel the warmth between these two and the passion that drives their bond.

I was feeling a bit uncertain about “Alucarda” before that explosive final act made it clear that I was won over. The dusty and crumbling locations, fake blood heavy special effects, and unpredictable tone are all hard to resist. The film has invited political and sociological readings over the years, as you'd expect from any movie that challenges religion and accepted sexuality this much. I'll have to get more familiar with Moctezuma's work over all before I can make any judgements about the sincerity of those interpretations. Still, this one has got the stuff. Lots of images here that would make fine heavy metal album covers and I must respect that. [7/10]
 

 

Shadows of Fear: Sugar and Spice
 

Here's another obscure, short-lived British anthology show from the seventies. I watched an episode of “Shadows of Fear” two years ago, thought it was pretty good, and have been curious about the rest since. The second episode, “Sugar and Spice,” is set on a stormy night as Anne awaits the arrival of her children and husband. Her daughter, Judy, arrives home with no sign of her younger half-brother. She is acting strangely but Judy always acts odd, so her mother thinks nothing of it. As more hours go by and Michael, the boy, still has not come home, she begins to worry. Judy then tells her mom that dad left her brother with Elizabeth, his mistress that he had promised to stop seeing. Victor – her husband, Michael's father, and Judy's step-dad – arrives home late and drunk. The two argue about his past and possible current infidelity, the mysterious whereabouts of the boy, and Victor's shitty behavior towards Judy. (He calls the 12 year old a “bitch.”) It's not long before the argument gets heated and things turn violent, the girl listening intently from her room upstairs. 

“Sugar and Spice” is not an easy hour of television to like. It's mostly devoted to listening to a married couple argue with each other. Victor is a cheating drunkard and clearly resents the presence of his step-daughter. Anne is unwilling to forgive her husband for his affairs. She has no reason to, as the man never apologizes or seems to feel regret over seeing another woman. This is a good example of a couple that assuredly never should've married, so clearly unable to communicate or resolve any problems. Listening to them shriek and bicker is not the most pleasant experience. I did find myself wondering why I was watching these two miserable people be hateful to each other. However, I will say that “Sugar and Spice” does a good job of depicting the kind of petty resentment and stubborn bitterness that has lead many a marriage to collapsing into hatred. 

“Sugar and Spice” also manages to grasp a grim sense of tension very quickly. Music is used sparingly and most of the episode is scored to the sounds of the rain storm outside. Or the nervous thumping of Anne's heart, emphasized in a striking moment where the movement of the camera is timed with the heartbeat. The continued unknown whereabouts of the little boy provides a feeling of unease throughout. Especially since it's evident that Judy knows more than she's letting on. Suzanne Togni plays the girl, her elfin features and pigtails drawing attention to how innocent she looks... Innocence that is sure to be subverted. What exactly the girl is planning isn't made clear until the ending but isn't too hard to guess. How grim the situation gets still creates suspense, as you're left wondering how far the show will go. Moreover, if Judy is plotting to turn her parents against each other, you can't blame her. Her stepdad is obviously a jerk and her mom smacks her around at some point. If her insistence that her daughter cover up when she's only wearing pajamas in one scene is any indication, maybe she sees her own daughter as a rival. These are the kind of unfortunate situations that can fester underneath a family and that's what “Sugar and Spice” is exploring. A grim one but worth watching. [7/10]

 

Friday the 13th: The Series: Cupid's Quiver
 

Aside from its stubborn refusal to feature a guy in a hockey mask, "Friday the 13th: The Series" has another claim to fame. Mostly because it was made in Canada, the series would see a few notable directors based in the country at the time passing through its gate. Around the same time he was doing random episodes of the eighties editions of "The Twilight Zone" and "Alfred Hitchcock Presents," Atom Egoyan would helm the third episode of "Friday the 13th." The episode begins in a seedy bar, where a guy is trying to pick up a girl already dancing with another man. After pointing a creepy cupid statue at her, she's suddenly leaping into his arms. That doesn't stop him from murdering her after hooking up at a sleazy motel. Later, the statue resurfaces at a frat house. That's where a stalker with a camera and a crush on a girl named Laurie gets his hands on it. Once he determines the statue's mechanism, he sets out making his obsession into his lover. Micki, Ryan, and Jack are on the case. 

Egoyan directed “Cupid's Quiver” several years before “Exotica” establishes his reputation for artistic eroticism. However, you can see that interest appearing in this episode. This is obviously a story dealing with themes of desire, obsession, and love-as-possession. The script remains shallow. Ross Fraser plays Gerald, the stalker, as a sweaty, leering nut. No reason is ever provided for why he's so fixated on Laura. Carolyn Dunn, who strikes me as Molly Ringwald's Canadian Non-Union Equivalent, is likable enough but whether these two have some past relationship or if it's a totally unfounded obsession on his behalf is never fleshed-out. The episode becomes a rather tawdry chase scene in its last act. The script is totally on the magical, love-forcing powers of the Artifact of the Week by that point, discarding any possibility for a deeper examination of these ideas or concepts. 

There's no getting around that justifying why a bunch of characters are carrying around a statue of cupid is hard to do. That inserts an unavoidable corniness into the episode. That is also apparent in the statue's head turning and grinning wickedly before inducing any of its fatal flights of erotomania. That campy streak is most apparent in some backseat heavy petting that randomly involves honey, a hilarious choice. There's also two sex scenes in the episode. Despite any fleshy bits being kept totally off-screen, you still hear an awful lot of moaning. That is kind of surprising and it also shows that the director's interest were already established by this point. There's also some artsier camera angles here, shots randomly being framed from high or low angles. That was cool. The frat house subplot is inessential, at best, but it does see Jack going undercover as a bar tender and accidentally becoming a random kid's confidant for the night. That made me laugh. Also, the show writers seem to be deliberately teasing a romantic tension between Jack and Micki, despite them being cousins. This is probably just the sloppiness of eighties TV at work here but it still made me laugh. [6/10]

 

Halloween 2025: October 4th

Witchboard (2024)

Chuck Russell had a damn good run for a while. He got his start as a line producer on “The Hearse,” “Hell Night” and “Dreamscape” before making his directorial debut with what a lot of fans consider their favorite “A Nightmare on Elm Street” sequel. What followed was a beloved remake of a fifties classic, one of the movies that made Jim Carrey a superstar, probably the best of Arnold's late nineties flicks, and the first blockbuster starring the Rock. For reasons I've never found a satisfying explanation for, Russell took a fourteen year hiatus from feature film making. When he came back, it was with forgettable entries into the usually forgettable “geezer teaser” industry. While action movies had always been good to him, Russell had been plotting his proper return to the horror genre... With, of all things, a remake of “Witchboard.” The project was first announced back in 2017 and, through numerous starts and stops in production, Russell remained attached. He co-wrote the script too, so we can only assume he was genuinely passionate about remaking the eighties cult classic. After a long wait, the film finally came out last August. 

A botched robbery in a New Orleans museum ends with the thief dead in the woods with one stolen object: A 300 year old pendulum board, with which real witches used to contact otherworldly spirits. The board is found by Emily, while hunting for mushrooms in the forest. Her boyfriend, Christian, is preparing to open a fancy restaurants in the city's French district. At a party the night before the opening, Christian's ex Brooke puts in an appearance. She's into all that witchy shit and instantly recognizes the board for what it is, teaching Emily how to use it. Emily, a recovering addict, soon becomes hooked on talking to the board. She experiences bizarre visions of witchcraft and fiery executions. Meanwhile, bizarre deaths and the presence of feral cats begin to disrupt Christian's new business. He teams up with Brooke, to seek the advice of a local expert in the occult. Christian doesn't know it yet but his girlfriend is at the center of a revenge plot three centuries in the making to resurrect the witch Naga Soth.

As far as remakes go, this “Witchboard” is on the looser side. The scene where the spirits win the female protagonist over by helping her find a lost ring is about the only moment taken from the original. The decision to change your standard ouija board into a “pendulum board” – works on the same principal but with a witch's finger on a chain, instead of a planchette – shows the direction the film hopes to take the idea. Of the two words in the title, “witch” is emphasized over “board” in this telling. There are extensive flashbacks to medieval France, depicting the backstory of Naga Soth and the witch hunter obsessed with destroying her. The element of a cult devoted to fulfilling the witch's prophecy is included, bringing lots of decadent pagan ritual vibes to several scenes. The key presence of psychedelic mushrooms in one sequence cements what Russell and his gang where going for with this one. They wanted to get some modern day folk horror chocolate in Kevin Tenney's eighties possession/slasher movie peanut butter. It's an idea of debatable merit but, at the very least, setting the film in the New Orleans French District does give it a slightly more concrete connection to that old world setting. 

Considering the last horror movie Russell made twenty-five years ago and also bad, I had my doubts the director still had it in him for this one. This instinct was mostly correct but, every once in a while, 2024's “Witchboard” worked for me. The poltergeist-like activity of the original returns in a sequence where a little spilled gumbo and a sandwich slicer result in a surprisingly gory mishap. Another callback to the 1986 version involves Emily being abducted by spirits while in the shower. During this moment, and an earlier one where corpse-like hands reach out from her bed to grab her body, this “Witchboard” actually achieves that spook-a-blast feeling. Considering the obvious Raimi influence Tenney showed, incorporating that kind of chaotic, frenzied energy to scenes of supernatural menace isn't a bad idea. That scene with the poison mushroom has some serious flaws but, once the blood really starts to fly, I found myself enjoying it. The film needed more of that wacky, bloody sense of recklessness. 

Russell made extensive use of special effects in his eighties classics and nineties blockbusters. It is something of a trademark of his. That desire is still present in “Witchboard” but 2024's subpar digital effects do not have the charm of eighties rubber and latex. More than a few times, his “Witchboard” throws CGI spectres of screeching witches, demonic faces, or spring-loaded cats into the viewer's face. If the deployment of that last cliché sounds improbable, Russell actually builds several entire sequences around the evil kitties. One, in which a drug dealer falls from a rooftop onto a statue's up-lifted sword, is a good example of how the mediocre special effects drain some of the fun from the movie's ideas. The longer the film goes on, the more enamored it becomes of such digital trickery. Clouds of CGI green smoke, slow-mo dagger dives, or trippy distorted faces do not have the same appeal to them as Freddy's chest full of twitching souls or the bubbly tentacles of the government-engineered blob. 

Like far too many modern productions, what causes this “Witchboard” to droop the most is a script overburdened with backstory. As Christian and his friends are being introduced at that party, each one casually reveals their defining characteristic. Here's the jokey friend, the Caribbean one, the wiccan ex-girlfriend. The moment Emily is announced as a former junkie, you know that the witchboard is going to become her next addiction. Here's her former dealer, wandering randomly into the story to up the body count later on. No attempt is made to foster this connection with a deeper meaning. It's all mercenary plot construction, not an expression of a bigger idea. This is most evident in all the screen time focused on both the backstory of the witch and the man who cast her out of society. Adding some historical context to the idea of a “witch”board is nice and all, admitting that historical “witches” were usually persecuted women at the mercy of patriarchal systems. At the same time, the original didn't need fifteen minutes of flashbacks to make us understand that Malfeitor was a bad guy. It weights the movie down.

I went into the “Witchboard” remake with measured expectations, after the movie sat on a shelf for a bit and debuted to mixed reviews. I secretly hoped that Chuck Russell would make a strong come-back with this one. Alas, it is not the eighties anymore. Incorporating a more folkloric approach to the titular relic wasn't the worst idea. (Not to mention it helps distinguish the film from the officially licensed by Hasbro Ouija movies that have been made.) Occasionally, the remake comes close to making me crack a smile. Unfortunately, it is disappointingly short of spark, humor, and venom. The humble charms of the original are not much present in this largely overstuffed and far too technical a take. Russell shouldn't have left out the homoeroticism, wacky medium, axe murders, or hair metal theme song. That would've gone a long way to redeeming this one, a good idea executed in mostly juiceless fashion. [6/10]

Santo Vs. the Vampire Women (1962)

Santo contras las Mujeres Vampiro

I've never been a pro-wrestling watcher. I am, however, fascinated by the mythology of pro-wrestling, the idea that real men become larger than life characters within this ephemeral space where fantasy and reality blur. Nobody did this better than the golden age luchadores enmascarado, who often wore their distinctive masks in all facets of public life. When El Santo, the most popular and beloved of them all, began starring in movies in which he played himself, fighting monsters and supervillains, it further muddied the boundaries between the real man, the Superman-like do-gooder he played in the ring, and the mythic folk hero he had become in the public's mind. I know all of this without having seen any of the movies Santo starred in, because anybody who knows anything about Mexican film history knows this stuff. Of the 53 motion pictures El Santo appeared in, only four received stateside distribution, with most of them still unavailable with English subtitles today. The best known of Santo's starring roles is "Santo contras las Mujeres Vampiro." Released dubbed in the U.S. as "Samson Vs. the Vampire Women," the film was a common presence on late night creature feature shows and largely shaped the public perception of what Mexican horror movies are in this country. While most Mexican horror movies actually don't have masked wrestlers in them, "Santo Vs. the Vampire Women" remains an iconic film. Thankfully, the uncut, subtitled version is fairly accessible now. 

Zorina, the queen of the vampires, has awoken from 200 years of slumber. She calls upon Tundra, her craftiest vampire follower, to find a successor for her before she returns to Hell to marry Satan. Tundra targets Diana, the descender of the same woman she attempted to turn into a vampire centuries ago. Soon, the vampire woman is lurking outside Diana's window and calling to her. Diana's father, Dr. Orloff, is well aware of the family prophecy that vampires are after his daughter but is reluctant to tell her. (Especially not to ruin her recent, happy engagement to Jorge.) With no one else to turn to, he calls upon Santo, El Enmascarado de Plata, professional wrestling star, part-time superhero, and the last in a long line of masked monster hunters. Santo tries his best to protect Diana, fight off the vampiric henchmen Zorina sends after her, track down the bloodsuckers' lair, and still do his gigs in the squared circle.

From my previous viewings of “El vampiro” and “The Brainiac,” it was clear that the Universal Monster movies and Bava's “Black Sunday” were big influences on the look and feel of Mexican horror films in the sixties. “Santo Vs. the Vampire Women” adds a little Franco to the mix, by naming a character Dr. Orloff, but the focus clearly remains on replicating that classic horror ambiance. Almost the entire first ten minutes of this movie is set entirely within a dusty, shadowy, cobweb strewn crypt. All the shots of crickly-faced vampire women awakening in their coffins, rubber bats flapping through the darkness, or the shadow of a cartoonish devil cast huge on the wall is more than enough for me to love this one. “Santo Vs. the Vampire Women” never quite tops that mega-dose of monster movie flair again. (A shot of the normal looking vampire woman being reflected in a mirror in her monstrous form comes close though.) However, the film is still rich with that same creaky, cheesy, comforting atmosphere. 

The next ten minutes are devoted to establishing Diane, Dr. Orloff, and Jorge. These scenes are talky and kind of slow, in the same way the thirties Universal flicks were too. This crashes right into Dr. Orloff activating a secret monitor that puts him in direct contact with Santo, the kind of set-up Adam West's Batman would've approve of. From that point on, “Santo Vs. the Vampire Women” never stops having maximum fun bashing its action figures together. The brawny vampire henchmen sent to combat Santo run through the night, their hands holding their outstretched black capes, the exact same way a little kid would when playing pretend as a vampire. That child-like sense of glee is present thoughout, when a cop has to remind his fellow officers that Santo is a good guy or the masked wrestler leaps into his convertible. The lovingly rendered close-ups of the vampire women preparing to bite their prey is pure classic horror. When that gothic opulence contrasts against the inherent silliness of a grown man in tights and a mask, solving all his problems with punching and body slams, it creates the most beautiful kind of disconnect.

The nexus point between those two bizarre extremes arrives during a sequence when Santo's regular opponent in the ring has been replaced with one of the vampire servants. His deadly karate chops nearly defeat the mighty Santo before our hero manages to unmasks the fiend.. And reveals that he is a pro-wrestler werewolf! Yes, there is quite a lot of grappling in “Santo Vs. the Vampire Women.” At least two lengthy sequences are devoted entirely to watching a regular pro-wrestling match between Santo and whoever he's fighting that night. As somebody with little knowledge or grasp of wrasslin' as an artform, I can still appreciate the acrobatics of the leaps, slams, and leg-locks on display here. It's certainly not as much fun as the monster movie shenanigans or when the two worlds meet. However, the shots of crowds cheering and shouting for Santo – clearly meant to invoke similar reactions in theater going audiences – are infectious in their own way. 

Through it all, I couldn't help but notice an odd sort of meloncholey around Santo as a character. The love story is in-between Diana and Jorge. The tale of family is between Dr. Orloff and his daughter. Even the vampire women are a group, prowling together in their tombs. Santo is always alone. As the supporting characters embrace in the final scene, he drives off by himself. He defines himself as the last remaining member of a mythic bloodline earlier. Dr. Orloff notes that Santo's amazing skills do not gurantee that he'll succeed against the vampires. Unavoidably, the film paints him as a solitary figure, who lives only for wrestling and fighting evil. It's strange that a film as silly and cheesy as this one could stir such thoughts in me. Perhaps this is another sign that there is power in the most unexpected of images sometimes. In other words, “Santo Vs. The Vampire Women” is exactly my kind of thing. Classic monster movie vibes, camp, and culturally specific details combine to an oddly compelling B-movie. This is widely regarded as the best of the Santo films so I have no idea if any of the other ones are worth seeking out but I'm extremely curious now. [8/10]

Alien: Earth: Observation
 

The various subplots of “Alien: Earth” continue to roll along in episode four, “Observation.” Wendy is awoken from the strange coma she fell into at the end of the previous installment. It is soon discovered that she's learned how to speak the Xenomorphs' “language,” much to Boy Kavalier's amazement. Both Joe and Wendy desire to be kept together or to leave the island someday. Forces within the corporation naturally want to make sure this never happens. From outside the compound, Morrow continues to talk with Slightly, emotionally manipulating him into either procuring an egg for him or infesting someone with a Chestburster. The test continue on the eyeball parasite discovered at the crash site. Nibs, one of the other hybrid children, develops a sudden desire to become pregnant, confusing and frightening those overseeing her.

“Observation” makes a good case for the elements that annoy me the most about modern serialized television writing. Episode four sees the series reaching that inevitably point that all streaming shows reach sooner or later: Focusing an entire hour on a bunch of shit nobody cares about. The plot thread concerning Morrow worming his way into Slightly's brain obviously exists to lead to an inevitable containment break of the alien specimens. Kursh is also shown as being aware of their conversations, which will no doubt lead to more dramatic entanglements in three or so installments. The most eye-rollingly asinine of these dangling plot points is Nibs inexplicably developing baby fever. As two scenes are devoted to this subject, I could feel the sense of absolute indifference creeping into me. This is padding, plain and simple. It has no actual purpose in the story.

Far too many modern continuations of old franchises seem content to simply give fans what they want and provide no substance. “Alien: Romulus” was heavily guilty of this. On one hand, that makes “Earth's” various divergences from canon hypothetically interesting. What is this weird eyeball parasite that the Prodigy scientists are studying? The scene where it yanks out a sheep's eye and crawls into its skull is pretty gnarly. At the same time, this new extraterrestrial threat is not different enough from the Xenomorph to overcome the inevitable feeling of: When are they going to get to the alien hive? Why is the Alien not being given more to do in this series with “Alien” in the title? The scenes developing the Xenomorph's language is an actual example of building on previously established lore, as opposed to just tossing in some new stuff. I wish the episode focused more on that. 

I mostly found “Observation” to be tedious. You can almost feel the writers and show runners patting themselves on the back as they revisit the themes of motherhood and birth from the older “Alien” themes. Or in the repeated “Peter Pan” references. See, the overgrown man-child trillionaire never wants to grow up either! Once again, world-building is done not through naturalistic storytelling but through blatant exposition. There's another conversation about how the globe is broken up across five corporations. While the theme of corporate indifference to human suffering is another “Alien” Golden Oldie, it does lead to the one truly effective moment in the episode. When Joe insist that his sister is a human being, a cold representative of Prodigy reminds him that she is in fact corporate property. That's a more chilling reminder of how we will all be mere assets to the corporate oligarchs in the future. Needed more shit like that and less of Essie Davis trying to make an unhinged robo-adolescent understand that she can't be pregnant. [6/10]

Are You Afraid of the Dark?: The Tale of Apartment 214

Moving into a new apartment is an experience rich with potential for horror. There's the disorientating sensation of being uprooted from the familiar and the comfortable and being dropped into someplace alien and new. You are now surrounded by strangers, very close to you, that could be getting up to god knows what. Moreover, there's the lingering reminders that someone else once resided in this place you are trying to make your own now. Kids show schlock like “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” was aware of this too. “Tale of Apartment 214” follows Stacy, who is moving into a new apartment building with her single mom. Isolated and with no friends around, Stacy finds herself drawn to Madeline, the old woman who lives down the hall in Room 214. Madelyn informs her that her nephew abandoned on an important day, breaking a promise to never leave her alone. When Stacy goes to a concert with appropriate friend Angela instead, she finds Madelyn has abandoned 214. In fact, the old woman now appears to her as a threatening spectre, insisting that she “broke her promise.” Yes, Madeline is a ghost, haunting the apartment in which she lived and died after being left behind by those who swore to take care of her. And now that's Stacy's problem. 

Of the handful of “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” episodes I've written about, several of them have been about a young person being doggedly pursue by some ghost or entity. Often, they repeat a threatening message each time they appear, to re-enforce the moral of the episode. “Tale of Apartment 214” does this with an otherwise unassuming little old lady, who repeatedly shouts about this pre-teen girl “breaking her promise” to her. It's very silly and not especially creepy at all. I know Hollywood seems convinced that old women are the most terrifying sight imaginable but Madeline here is no Aunt Gladys. The scene where she glowers in front of a stormy window, over-enunciating dialogue about the day she died, is an especially comical moment. This isn't an example of kid-friendly horror so much as it is horror that only works if you are a kid.

After the central idea has been set-up, that Stacy has offended this elderly ghost and she'll continue to haunt her, “Tale of Apartment 214” more-or-less goes on like that. I'm not saying the episode is entirely without merit. A sequence where Stacy holds up a painting Madeline made of the two of them together, before the old woman appears right behind it, might have been effective without such a belabored set-up. A pan around the apartment prominently features a mirror. Unsurprisingly, the old woman's form shows up there too. A kid, not so familiar with horror tropes, might get a thrill out of that one. Again, it's all undermined by a kindly old woman being the central threat. The last act confirms that this ghost is not dangerous, merely misunderstood, to hammer home some half-assed moral about making new friends. While grown-ass adults continue to assure me “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” is a quality program, most of what I've seen inevitably strikes me as strictly for the elementary school crowd. [5/10]

Halloween 2024: October 13th

Poison for the Fairies (1984)

Veneno para las hadas

In Latin American countries, witches do not exist solely as folkloric boogey-women and New Age practitioners. A mixture of folk medicine, folk magik, and spiritualism – with roots in indigenous, African, and Catholic beliefs – known as Brujería has survived in these areas for centuries, despite attempts by Christianization to stomp them out. This has led to the witch being an archetype with a deep resonance, leading to both sympathetic and villainous portrayals in Mexican and Central American pop culture over the years. Among the most acclaimed Mexican witch movies is Carlos Enrique Taboada's "Poison for the Fairies," which won the 1985 Ariel Award for Best Picture and Best Director. I was very impressed with Taboada's ghost story "Even the Wind is Afraid" last year, so it seemed natural to give this one a look during this season's attempt to broaden my knowledge of Mexican horror films. 

Flavia, the young daughter of rich parents, begins attending a new school in Mexico City. There she meets Verónica, a poorer girl who has been raised by her grandmother and nanny. Verónica is fascinated with witches and claims to be one, merely disguising herself as a little girl. The two form a tentative friendship, Flavia skeptical of Verónica's supernatural claims at first. After Verónica overhears a teacher is leaving, and passes it off as a magical prediction, Flavia is slowly convinced. The two girls perform a ritual to banish Flavia's strict piano teacher. After the woman dies of a stroke, Flavia becomes increasingly fearful of her new friend's "powers." Verónica uses this sway to manipulate and bully Flavia more, talking her into being allowed to come along on a family vacation to the countryside. There, the two girls go about gathering the ingredients for a poison potion – to use against fairies, the mythical nemeses of witches – but Verónica's cruelty towards Flavia soon reaches a boiling point.

The first scene in "Poison for the Fairies" depicts a bloody passage from a fairy tale, which sets up the film's carefully balanced tone. The flowery musical score, from Carlos Jiménez Mabarak, recalls a family film from the fifties or sixties. The vague time period the story is set in, with its vintage cars and antiquated fashion, makes the movie seem much older than 1984. This is paired with gorgeous, soft cinematography from Lupe Garcia. The girls are often depicted as figures in larger tableaus, such as when Flavia climbs to the top of a castle's ruins or when Veronica swings back and forth in a fantastically green forest clearing. Despite how much "Poison for the Fairies" resembles a nostalgic, rose-tinted view of childhood, this is certainly not a kids' movie. The parental figures in the girls' lives are generally warm and loving. The children, on the other hand, are depicted as the duplicitous and cold ones. 

In order to align the viewer totally with its youthful protagonists, "Poison for the Fairies" rarely shows an adult fully on-screen. We usually only see them from behind or above, glimpses of their hands or legs. This is not a story of the adult world. Instead, it is told through the eyes of children. That doesn't mean this world is free of fear. Notably, when a mature face does appear on-screen, it also occurs as a shock: The one-eyed glare of an old woman, the lifeless stare of a dead body, the weathered lines of an elderly groundskeeper. The film takes us directly into Flavia's dreams and nightmares, drawing parallels between a face in a casket or a doll sitting in its box. A fantastic dream sequence begins with a tree branch outside a window slowly shifting into a hand and ends with a mother's loving touch replaced with the talons of a cackling hag. Despite feeling a little bit like a vintage Disney movie, "Poison for the Fairies" never shies away from showing childhood as a terrifying time nor guards children against fear or danger.

One of the most chilling things about "Poison for the Fairies" is that Verónica is probably a little sociopath. The earliest sign we get of this is when the girl's nanny asks her if she misses her mother. Ana Patricia Rojo – with her golden blonde hair, expressive smile, the face of innocence – turns her head slightly, thinks for a minute, before bluntly saying "No." Watching as an adult, you can see when the little girl is spinning a yarn, as she lies and backtracks on her wild claims around her friend. Flavia sees it too but Verónica is also exceptionally good at manipulating her friend. When she keeps a key piece of information to herself or concocts a scheme to convince her that she's a witch, the effect is chilling. Not only because Rojo gives a great performance but because... Everybody knew a kid like Verónica growing up. After sneaking a snake into class, Verónica manages to convince the teacher that Flavia is at fault. The girl is hurt that her friend would take advantage of her like that but Verónica coolly explains that, well, she had to blame her. As the story progresses and Verónica gets her hooks into the other girl more, her manipulations grow crueler. She uses fear to "punish" her supposed friend for the pettiest reasons. Being treated so cruelly by someone claiming to care about you is a cross everyone has to bare and Lord knows it usually first happens in childhood. "Poison for the Fairies" centers itself in that all too familiar pain, in a depiction of someone trusting and naïve getting close to someone who has already learned how to trick, fool, and control for their own selfish needs.

Despite dealing extensively with the subject of witches, “Poison for the Fairies” is a grounded film. There's never any suggestion that Veronica actually has magical powers. All of her acts of witchery are either the result of trickery or coincidence. However, she certainly convinces Flavia her spells are real. During a ritual, she asks about why the candles are black and Veronica replies, simply, that's “how the devil likes them.” Flavia comes from a rationalist, atheist family. They don't prayer before bed and don't put up a nativity at Christmas. This contrast heavily with how easily Flavia is convinced in Veronica's conjuring though. That's the power of belief and ritual, all the talk of witches invading Flavia's dreams and subconscious. While in the countryside, the girls devote themselves to tracking down the ingredients for the potion. Common elements, snake skins and frog legs, are imbued with power simply because Verónica and Flavia believe that to be the case. The only time “Poison for the Fairies” seems to show a genuine supernatural event is at the very end, by which point Verónica's mean-spirited actions have more than made her a symbolic witch, if not a literal one. 

“Poison for the Fairies” has a hell of a finale too, generating a real sense of tension by constantly making the viewer wonder how far this situation will go. It's a good example of how strong the film's child actors are, Rojo and Elsa Maria both showing such a sense of depth despite their young ages. In much the same way Veronica can be seen as either a scheming villain and an ordinary little girl, the film somehow exists in the world of both daytime frivolity and nightly horrors. It's a rare work that captures the carefree joys of childhood and the vulnerability that comes with it, something the film does in the same scenes occasionally. That makes the film much truer to the fairy tales and folklore that obviously inspired it than many straight adaptations of these stories. (It also makes it an obvious influence on Guillermo del Toro. A scene where the girls are chastised for getting their dresses muddy likely inspired a similar moment in “Pan's Labyrinth.”) In other words, it's an accomplished and effective film, its status as a classic of Mexican cinema well secured. [9/10]

Isolation (2005)

They don't make monster movies the way they used to. I mean this almost literally. The rise of digital effects has truly robbed us of one of life's humblest joys: Watching underpaid actors scream and flee from rubber or latex abominations, dripping with slime and gore, played by either an elaborate puppet or a suffering stuntman in a sweltering suit. Creature feature used to be tactile, ya get what I'm sayin'? The big studios make everything in a computer and the little guys usually can't afford lots of practical effects. When something more in the vein of "Pumpkinhead" or "The Deadly Spawn" does make it into the wild, it's usually under most people's radars. "Isolation" was one of countless low budget horror flicks that Lionsgates shoveled onto DVD in the 2000s, with little promotion or press. The film hasn't been discussed much in the nineteen years since its release. At least outside the demographic of aging genre nerds with photographic memories who never forget a random title they read about in Fangoria nearly two decades ago. However, it's exactly the kind of old school rubber monster flick I happened to be looking for today. And, hey, it's Irish, meaning I can mark off another country on my cinematic trip around the world. 

In hopes of salvaging his faltering cattle farm, Dan Reilly has taken a deal with a shady biotech firm. They are performing strange test on the cows, to produce bovines that will grow faster and bigger. Jamie and Mary, an interracial couple on the run from her family, parked their van on the farmland, which Dan tolerates. That night, the experimented-upon cow begins to give birth. Dan recruits Jamie to help but the situation quickly goes awry. The calf dies shortly after being born... Strangely, however, the animal was born already pregnant. The fetuses inside it are twisted, bony monsters. And they are very alive. The strange offspring, which carry infectious properties, begins to squirm around the farm. Soon, Dan, Jamie, and Mary are fighting for their lives against these creatures. 

Much like Larry Fessenden's "No Telling" – a film it has a lot in common with – "Isolation" operates essentially as a grounded update of the mad scientist premise. Instead of using radiation or lightning to make its monsters, the creatures here are the result of biological engineering. Writer/director Billy O'Brien leans into this in a big way. The creature resembles, at first, a spinal cord that has sprung to life. These biopunk Tinglers get bigger and grislier as the film goes on, resembling a disturbing mesh of bones, sinews, blood, and oozing organs. Like Xenomorphs, they also burst out of the normal animals they grow inside of, burrowing into people eventually too. In other words, the film takes some familiar sci-fi/horror tropes and put a surprisingly fresh and grisly remix of them. Cinematographer Robbie Ryan keeps the monster largely in the shadow, so you're never entirely sure of what you are looking at. This further adds to the disorientating sense of "What the hell am I looking at?" you feel whenever the beast is on-screen. The special effects are entirely practical, making sure this aberration of science looks like a physical thing that's actually there. It's a lot scarier in execution than the logline of "mutated cow monster" sounds on paper. 

Aside from an effectively messed-up monster design and some clever special effects, "Isolation" is a well orchestrated little horror film in general. As you'd expect from the title, the movie plays up the emptiness of its setting. The Irish countryside comes across as especially desolate and dreary, always overcast. Seemingly every corner of the farm is dingy and dirty, the film building notable sequence around a slurry pit or a shallow bodies of water. The characters feel very alone, out there in the countryside. Once the monster is loose, the setting gets more cramped and claustrophobic, the characters chased under floorboards and into ventilation areas, sharp machinery near-by. The musical score is discordant and threatening but smartly deployed. There are many silent stretches which smartly build towards disturbing, sudden acts of violence. These are jump scares used smartly, paired with some effectively squirm-inducing gore effects. The bony creature slithering under a bedsheet or lunging at someone with a scream produce exactly the right reaction in the viewer. 

In other words, "Isolation" does everything right as a technical exercise, with a slow-burn first act that keeps escalating in intensity and craziness on the way to the bloody finale. The characters are kept simple, without any tedious back story, and the narrative rarely leaves the farm. As simple as the script can be, the movie clearly has some bigger ideas on its mind. Jamie is a Traveler, a racial underclass in Ireland, and Jamie being a black woman surely isn't a mistake either. Meanwhile, cows are treated in the film as disposable assets, instead of living things. A pneumatic hammer gun is used repeatedly on the animals and, when it's inevitably turned on a person, it's by a character that doesn't seem to value human life either. There's no concrete point here about the abuse of animals, industrialized farming, the cattle industry, or biotech capitalism. The quarantine subplot about the film is the most underdeveloped idea here. However, "Isolation" suggests a lot within its simple monster movie set-up. There's an undercurrent of technology pushing the natural world past it's breaking point and people, desperate simply to survive, caught in the crossfire. 

"Isolation" doesn't let its cast and characters get in the story's way. Ruth Negga and Essie Davis, a long time before "Loving" and "The Babadook," make for relatable and reasonable heroines. John Lynch, as Dan, has a nicely desperate quality to him. The result is a lean, mean creature thriller full of grimy, dismal atmosphere and a hell of an original monster. Sometimes, that's all a horror flick needs to be a hidden gem. O'Brien has done some notable work since, such as "I Am Not a Serial Killer," but the film did not launch him to the forefront of the industry. Which is a bit of a bummer, as "Isolation" is the kind of straight-to-the-point, grisly, and clever genre entertainment that so many people are in search of. And it's so extremely Irish top, with enough lilting accents and brogues to satisfy anyone who simply finds residents of the Emerald Isles fun to listen too. If you haven't seen this one, and you're on the lookout for a creatively nasty little monster-fest, definitely dig up "Isolation." [8/10]

Shockers: The Visitor

Two years back, I watched "Parents' Night," an episode of short-lived Channel 4 anthology, "Shockers." It was an unsettling hour of television and I've been wanting to get back to the series since. Probably the second best known episode of this largely overlooked series is "The Visitor," owing to it starring a young Daniel Craig. Craig plays a mysterious drifter who wanders into a swanky home. At first planning to rob the place, he quickly realizes the three residents there – Louise, Matt, and Terri – are expecting a new roommate that no one has previously met. Posing as "Richard," the man integrates himself into their lives. He seduces both Louise and Terri, though Louise is dating Matt. He also empties out Matt's bank account. When Louise pushes back against "Richard's" creepy behavior, he grows more possessive and unhinged. When the real Richard shows up, the imposter shows that murder isn't beyond him either. 

For fans of Craig, "The Visitor" is an especially fascinating watch. It can't help but play as an alternate universe version of Craig's James Bond, one who never had his violent instincts focused by the British government. "Richard" always thinks on his feet, grabbing any opportunity he can to benefit himself. We see this keenly when he kisses Terri, to distract her as he cleans up the last spot of evidence of the bloody crime he committed. His soulful blue eyes and charming demeanor makes it easy for him to seduce women. Ultimately, he's a sociopath, who manipulates people as easily as he breathes and truly only cares for himself. He also thinks nothing of springing towards violence, cold-bloodedly knocking off anyone who pisses him off or has something he wants. It's a chilling performance from Craig, who is one half emotionally unstable stalker and one half icy hitman. 

As with "Parents' Night," "The Visitor" shows that "Shockers" was determined to live up to its name. A slow burning tension characterizes the hour, as the audience inevitably waits for "Richard" to show his true nature. When that does happen, it's startlingly brutal. "The Visitor" is not especially bloody, most of the actual violence taking place off-screen. However, the way Craig beats a victim to death with a cast-iron skillet or smashes an arm in a door are presented in ways both furious and unflinchingly harsh. The visual style of the episode is sometimes a little irritating. The editing during a sex scene gets a bit frantic and the decision to repeat several key lines of vulgar dialogue is odd. "The Visitor" still approaches its violent content in a chilling manner, being totally grounded in its approach while also ratcheting up the suspense the way you'd expect from a good slasher pic or domestic thriller. (Two genres this episode resembles.) 

The gimmick of "Shockers" is that each episode was written by up-and-coming names. "The Visitor" comes from novelist and screenwriter Guy Burt, best known for "The Hole." While the story here is clearly influenced by films like "Shallow Grave" or "Single White Female," some deeper themes are established. Terri comes from a well-to-do family, the house essentially being something she inherited. Matt is a successful hedge fund manager, frequently bragging about his success, while Louise has the very bougie job of designing lay-outs for cook books.  We don't learn anything about "Richard's" backstory but his transient lifestyle suggests he's probably lived in poverty his whole life. When the real Richard shows up at the house, the imposter berates him that he doesn't know what it's like to have to work for anything he has. This gives this story of a smooth psycho blowing up some twenty-somethings' lives a class struggle subtext. While I wouldn't suggest Terri and Louise deserve anything that happens to them, it does bring an extra layer to this story of a lunatic sneaking in and taking over your life. While it doesn't have quite the level of disquieting impact that "Parents' Night" did, "The Visitor" is still surprisingly potent stuff. [8/10]

The Addams Family: The Winning of Morticia Addams

One of the most charming contributions to pop culture "The Addams Family" has made is Gomez and Morticia becoming accepted as the perfectly attuned couple everyone should aspire to be. This is challenged in "The Winning of Morticia Addams," when Fester reads an article that suggests the opposite may be true. A recent study suggests couples who fight more often are actually happier. Worried for their marriage, Fester and Granmama plot to engineer some discord in Morticia and Gomez's relationship. When these schemes fail, Fester reaches out to the article's author, Dr. Chalon, and invites him to the home. The doctor is immediately smitten with Morticia and attempts to seduce her. (Which she rebuffs, of course.) Upon hearing of this, Gomez challenges Chalon to a duel. The only problem is that Chalon is a celebrated fencer who has killed three previous men in duels. 

What makes Gomez and Mortica such an ideal couple is the innate understanding and infinite passion they have with each other. When Fester tells Gomez's Zen yogi guru that Morticia has demanded her husband quit the club, Drashi Dumo makes an angry house call. Gomez's reaction is, simply, if that's what his wife thinks, then it must be true. The two see Gomez's freed-up schedule as a chance to spend more time together. Always approaching your partner with an open mind and understanding, never doubting their commitment to you and vice versa, might be the secret to a happy marriage. Remaining utterly dedicated and enamored of them certainly doesn't hurt either. 

Challenging that bond without cooking up some bullshit drama between Gomez and Morticia, and violating the foundation of their love, must've been a tricky scenario to write. Bringing in a headstrong third party that tries to seduce Morticia is a good solution. It helps that Lee Bergere as Dr. Chalon makes a good foil for Gomez. He's a swarthy Frenchman who probably could charm a wife with a less rock solid devotion to her husband. Making sure Morticia roundly rejects his come-on makes sure that the dilemma that follows isn't either husband or wife's fault. All Morticia wants to do is prevent her beloved from getting killed, while Gomez's utter respect for his wife makes him outraged at Chalon's behavior and determined to correct it. 

In other words, it's a really good set-up for some jokes. Putting Fester in the situation where he has to roll back his plans, Gomez remaining oblivious to this, leads to some amusing interactions. (Though Fester's hope that his nephew will beat his wife is, uh, uncomfortable to say the least.) That Gomez strictly refuses to back down, despite Chalon's obvious superior fencing abilities, leads to some wonderfully goofy moments. In general, there's a lot of good gags here. Lurch standing in for the net during a basketball game or Chalon's response to Wednesday's Marie Antoine doll all got chuckles out of me. While "Progress and the Addams Family" probably would've made a better season finale, for how it escalates the central conflict of the series and brings back an old antagonist, this is an equally good note to take season one out on. [7/10]

As I've watched my way through season one of "The Addams Family," I've compared it a lot to "The Munsters." The two rival series touching on a lot of the same subjects made such comparisons difficult to avoid. It's still hard to say either sitcom is better than the other though. Herman and Grandpa's interactions were certainly funnier than anything Gomez and Fester did together. Mortica and Gomez are obviously the better, sweeter couple than the childish Herman and the sometimes shrewish Lily. It's tempting to say "The Munsters'" jokes were hokier than the "Addams'" but the truth is both shows are equally cheesy in their approach. The Addams may have a sharper social criticism built into their premise, not to mention sometimes edgier sight jokes. The Munsters' running gags, however, are simply a lot funnier to me than the Addams'. Both shows have the benefit of having great casts, pitch-perfect actors embodying archetypal characters that you immediately understand and deem likable. I think I do find 1313 Mockingbird Lane slightly more charming a home than 0001 Cemetery Drive, probably becomes the former emphasizes classic monster movie dustiness over the latter's opulent eccentricities. Thus far, Eddie has gotten a lot more to do than either Wednesday or Pugsley. (Though all the kids are adorable.) "The Munsters" only having four central members of the family, as opposed to the Addams' seven, might make it a little easier for the other show to write consistent premises. Nevertheless, I'd say both are equally silly, spooky fun. I've enjoyed watching season one of "The Addams Family" and look forward to hopefully picking up the show again next year.