Halloween 2015: October 29

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992)

Once again, I begin a review with a childhood anecdote. As a youngster, our VHS copy of “Buff the Vampire Slayer” frequently found its way into my VCR. I was such a fan that when Joss Whedon’s critically acclaimed and cultishly beloved TV series premiered, I was generally dismissive of it. Judging by the commercials, the show seemed to lack the humor of the movie. It took years for me to warm up to the show. Of course, Sarah Michelle Gellar’s Buffy is the one most people love, the one upon which a cult following is built around. Joss Whedon, and accordingly some of his fans, are dismissive of the original movie. I’m taking a bold stance, you guys: It’s okay to like both and, some days, I even prefer this version.

Buffy is a L.A. teenager, a cheerleader, whose favorite hobby is wasting time at the mall with her equally vaporous friends. She’s seemingly unaware of the strange murders happening around the city. When an older man named Merrick appears to her, referring to her as the chosen one, all of that changes. Buffy soon discovers that she is the Slayer, a girl chosen by fate to slay vampires. Her destiny puts her on a collision course with Lothos, an especially powerful and evil vampire. Merrick endeavors to train her in time while Buffy struggles to balance monster fighting with a normal high school life.

After the TV version of “Buffy” found success and popularity, creator Joss Whedon would occasionally say not-so-nice things about this movie. About how his script was heavily rewritten and the finished film doesn’t represent his original vision. Okay, maybe. Yet the most memorable thing about 1992’s “Buffy” is its sarcastic, frequently hilarious dialogue. Like “Heathers” before it, the film creates intentionally exaggerated, silly and trendy slang for the teens, giving them their own language. Conversations about the environment or hairy old moles greatly amuse. The interaction between flighty, girlish Buffy and her grave, serious Watcher Merrick provides plenty of laughs. People make fun of the training montage but it’s another stand-out moment, the sequence quickly making it clear that Buffy still has a lot to learn about vampire slaying. Buffy’s smart-ass response to the master vampire’s threat is another favorite of mine. Even the high school principal gets plenty of big laughs, especially during his rambling monologue about dropping acid. The point is “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” is a very funny movie and remains funny throughout its run time.

Which I suppose runs counter to the movie’s goal as a horror film. As a horror movie, “Buffy” never quite gets scare. Occasionally, it develops an eerie feeling. Buffy has reoccurring nightmares about Lothos, one of which has the vampire appearing in her bed. A later scene has the same vampire floating above a potential victim. A scene set in a parade float warehouse also features a creepy, giant squirrel. However, the vampires are never frightening, if they were even meant to be. As an action flick, “Buffy” is more successful. Yes, it’s very obvious when Kristy Swanson is traded out for her stunt-double. Yet the action scenes are usually pretty likable. Buffy flipping, kicking, or staking vampires has a nice appeal to her. Her final fight with the main villain is especially satisfying, as it features a big ass sword and creative use of a flag pole. As far as horror or action goes, “Buffy” doesn’t blow you away but it scratches a certain itch.

Most of the above wouldn’t have worked without the film’s phenomenal cast. Kristy Swanson has the perfect mixture of funny and brave. Her Buffy starts out as very flippant but soon develops a nonchalant heroic side that I like. She has phenomenal chemistry with Donald Sutherland as Merrick. An exchange about the Watcher’s eternal life is both hilarious and touching. Rutger Hauer can do slow-boiling malevolence and manic evil easily. What I really like about his performance is the off-hand humor he reveals. Truthfully, the M.V.P. of “Buffy” is a near-unrecognizable Paul Reubens as Lothos’ lackey. His pervy attitude works well when confronting the heroine in a hallway or bemoaning his torn jacket. Truthfully, his prolonged, improvised death scene is the comedic high-light of the movie. Even Luke Perry, hardly the most versatile performer, comes off pretty well. After all, Perry gets to deliver immortal lines like “Dude, you’re floating!” and “Now, you’re a coat rack.”

So that’s that. I really like the original “Buffy” movie. Obviously, it lacks the dramatic depth and rich characterization the television show would strive for. It also lacks the contrived melodrama that would sometimes make the series a chore to watch. Maybe it’s nostalgia talking but I find the film to be really funny and entertaining. Don’t let the Whedon faithful crowd turn you off it. Give 1992’s “Buffy” a shot and you may like it! [7/10]

The Sect (1991)
La setta

After watching “The Church," it only makes sense to continue on to Michele Soavi’s next film, “The Sect.” The two films have more in common then just their director. Both are religious-themed horror films. “The Church” is about a cursed church. “The Sect” is about a satanic sect. Both films share a co-writing credit with Dario Argento. In Japan, “The Sect” was even released as the fourth film in the “Demons” series, just as “The Church” was released as “Demons 3.” However, there’s one big difference. While “The Church” is well-regarded as a cult classic of Italian horror, “The Sect” has never caught on to the same degree. This may be because the film has never received a proper DVD release in the States.

In the seventies, a satanic cult led by a man named Damon murdered and sacrifice a family of hippy youths in the American desert. More then twenty years later, a school teacher named Miriam moves into a new home in the woods of Germany. After nearly hitting an old man with her car, she invites him back to her home. He uncovers a hidden room in her basement, containing a deep well of blue water. The old man dies but not before leaving a present for the woman. Soon, she begins to see and experience some very strange things. Unwillingly, Miriam has found herself at the center of an occult conspiracy.

About the only problem I had with “The Church,” a movie I otherwise liked a lot, was that it could never bring its various subplots together into a coherent whole. “The Sect” has a similar issue but in a different way. Unlike “The Church,” which had no clear protagonist, “The Sect” is clearly about Miriam. The film follows her closely and she’s in nearly every scene. However, “The Sect” still suffers from a lack of focus. Occasionally, the story rambles off to side characters, none of which have a clear connection to the main plot. Weird or creepy things happen to Miriam for little rhyme or reason. Some characters even return from the dead in ways that aren’t clearly defined. “The Sect” concentrates into a stable story in its last half-hour, after over an hour of the audience being confused. It’s a bit too little, too late. Listen, I don’t mind some dream logic or lack of coherence in my horror movies, especially Italian ones. Reading that “The Sect” was written by three different people with ideas totally at odds with each other explains a lot. The film feels like an unfocused jumble of disconnected ideas.

Despite that, powerful images still emerge from time to time. This is still a Michele Soavi film so, naturally, it’s frequently beautiful. The director employs his trade-mark tracking shots fantastically. One instant has the camera tracking plumping inside the house all the way out to a sink faucet. Another scene follows a bug as it crawls inside someone’s body. There’s an especially effective dreams sequence. Miriam awakes in a green field, wanders towards a tree where a Christ-like person hangs, before falling backwards. Her dress suddenly stretches on endlessly, black cords crawling up it towards her body. Soavi doesn’t back away from visceral horror either. A death shroud springs to life, wrapping itself around someone’s face, strangling the life out of them. Later, a dead body leaps up, suddenly, violently attacking someone. An attacker does not let go of a moving vehicle, stabbing at the driver even as he’s dragged along. Probably the most disturbing moment in “The Sect” involves hooks meticulously being inserted into a victim’s face, climaxing with her skin being torn away. Soavi shoots all of it expertly, lending the carnage a certain art. Each sequence is calculated to be as unnerving as possible.

In his next film, “Cemetery Man,” Soavi would create a film full of symbols with complex, layered meanings. In this sense, “The Sect” could be considered a predecessor. Miriam has a pet rabbit, a symbol of both child-like innocence and pagan fertility. (One amusingly bizarre scene has the rabbits flicking through TV channels with a remote.) The satanic cult, meanwhile, is associated with beetles that crawl inside people’s heads, laying worms in their brain. Miriam’s water turns blue after the cult messes with it, gross slime floating inside it. In the movie’s weirdest turn, a hook-billed crane symbolizes the devil. This builds towards a scene where – I’m not kidding here – Miriam is raped by the bird. Some of these symbols have more easily understood meanings then others. That Soavi was willing to pack a story that wasn’t much more then a “Rosemary’s Baby” rip-off with such symbols speaks positively of him. What it all means exactly is another story entirely.

The performances are quite good. Even while dubbed, it’s clear that Kelly Curtis and Herbert Lom are solid actors. The film has no shortage of memorable sequences, it’s well shot, and the music is good. Despite everything it has going for it, “The Sect” never collects into a fully satisfying whole. This is most apparent in its baffling, non-sequitur ending. For his next movie, Soavi would stop collaborating with Dario Argento. In retrospect, maybe he should’ve ended the partnership sooner. [6/10]

The Queen of Spades (1949)

The horror genre can lead in all sorts of unexpected directions. This late in October, I wouldn’t expect to be watching a movie based off the works of Alexander Pushkin, the most respected of Russian poets. But here we are. Many critics list ‘The Queen of Spades” as a notable, landmark ghost story. The story’s literary roots are evident in its other adaptations. There have been three Russian adaptations and the story has inspired two operas. Yet the 1949 film version is regarded as the best.

In the eighteen hundreds, the card game of Faro has become very popular among soldiers in the Russian army. Herman Suvorin is very serious about his gambling and hopes to make it rich playing cards. In a book of occult writing, he reads about an old countess who sold her soul to the devil in exchange for never loosing at cards. Locating the old woman, Herman devises a plan to seduce the countess’ ward, in order to get close to the old woman and learn her secret.

“The Queen of Spades” is one of the best looking films from the forties that I’ve ever seen. It is gorgeously shot. The film is bathed in shadows. Characters peer around corners in darkened rooms, the actors shot from stylized angles. The direction is way more dynamic then you’d expect from this time period. The pans are smooth, the camera moving in a poetic fashion around the scenes. “Queen of Spades” is shot like a noir, expressive in its darkness. It’s a dark story of greed and manipulation and the film itself follows that thought. Befitting a period film, “Queen of Spades” has opulent production values, full of beautiful costumes, rooms, and parties. In short, this is one good looking movie, both in terms of style and production designs.

To call “Queen of Spades” a horror movie is slightly misleading. For most of its run time, the film is about a very bad man manipulating a perfectly innocent woman for totally selfish reasons. Yes, there is a love triangle. While Herman courts Lizaveta solely to get close to the countess, his friend Andrei actually has genuine feelings for her. (This subplot also features some on-the-nose symbolism about a caged bird.) However, “Queen of Spades” doesn’t lack spooky moments. While reading about the Countess’ deal with the devil, we see images of an old, cobweb-strewn building where a man assembles creepy dolls. Later, as the old woman attempts to go to sleep, Herman approaches her. Though not outright sinister, the sequence is shot in a creepy fashion, the black and white contrast being extremely high. This builds towards a hugely impressive sequence of mounting dread. After the Countess’ death, Herman sits alone in his room. Suddenly, the area is quiet. Footsteps are heard down the hall. Wind blows and windows creak. It’s classic horror stuff but pulled off in astonishing fashion. Though the movie is as much costume drama as ghost story, this one hugely impressive sequence solidifies “Queen of Spades’” reputation as a horror classic.

The acting is theatrical but involving. Anton Walbrook is powerful as Herman, a man so gripped by greed that he is willing to break any moral ground if it’ll make him richer. Walbrook’s performance is extremely controlled, the character’s every movement calculated. I also like Yvonne Mitchell as the poor girl strung along by his scheme. There’s a powerful sequence where, after the Countess’ death, Herman confesses his ploy. While Lizaveta cries out in disbelief, he is still struck by the Countess dying before he could learn her secret. “Queen of Spades” builds towards a moral about the price of avarice. Like an extremely classy “Tales from the Crypt” issue, “Queen of Spades” ends with the asshole getting his just desserts. However, the story stops of anything more explicit. There are no ghastly ghosts back from the grave for revenge. Greed makes humans monstrous on their own.

I have no idea if “The Queen of Spades’ will appeal to most horror fans. It’s a slower story and its supernatural elements take a while to reveal themselves. However, I loved it. The film is beautifully shot, a pleasure to watch just based on its visual. The acting is wonderfully entertaining, if you’re on the right wavelength. As Halloween mood setting, “Queen of Spades’ is hugely successful, a series of spooky imagery building in intensity. The crossover between fans of horror and Russian literature is probably pretty small but everyone else in that Venn diagram loves “Queen of Spades” a bunch too, I bet! [9/10]

Halloween 2015: October 28

The Church (1989)

I’m a big fan of “StageFright,” the first proper horror film Michele Soavi made, and an even bigger fan of “Cemetery Man,” his last credit before working exclusively in Italian televison. Weirdly, I’ve never seen the two religious horror films Soavi made in-between those features. The Six Weeks of Halloween is for correcting oversights like this. “The Church” was the first time Soavi collaborated on a screenplay with Dario Argento, the filmmaker he had acted or assistant directed under many times before. “The Church” would prove to be Soavi’s break-out hit, marking him as the proper heir to Argento’s throne as the Italian master of visually innovative, poetic, and viscerally gruesome horror. Conceived as the third film in the “Demons” series – one of at least three movies claiming that title – the film was released as a stand-alone story at least in Italy and the States. I probably should’ve seen it way before now.

In the center of a modern German city stands a massive, ancient, elaborate cathedral. Hundreds of years ago, the church was built upon a mass grave of innocent people murdered as witches. The church’s new librarian looks into the building’s history, when not pursuing a romance with the female archaeologist excavating the place. He uncovers a strange crypt in the church’s basement. When he breaks the seal, he is overcome by a demonic force. Soon, the same Satanic influence begins to affect everyone inside the church. When the sacristan brutally kills himself, his blood activates an old mechanism which locks the place’s only exit. Now, a group of normal people are trapped inside the church with very old and very evil forces.

The reason Soavi was the logical successor to Argento’s title is that both filmmakers share a unique visual sense. “The Church” is full of moments that are equally poetic, kinetic, or gruesome. After the extended opening, the camera rushes up from the underground cross, through the floors of the church, onto its main floor. When Evan is overcome by the demonic force, he pulls his own heart out, holding it above a blood red sky. The camera then speeds through the city’s streets, coming to the girlfriend’s home. The film’s deft touch for gory spectacle manifests when an old woman bangs her husband’s decapitated head against a bell. Or a man impales himself on a jack hammer, an extended and brutal scene. Or a priest falls from a balcony, landing on a pointed spire below. Or a woman has her head smashed against a speeding train. Mostly, “The Church” is full of creepy, unsettling imagery. A demonic goat appears outside a widow. Later, the same monster slowly makes love with a hypnotized woman. A biker’s girlfriend appears nude, wrapped in the arms of a winged demon. Piles of muddy, bloody bodies emerge from the cathedrals’ bowels. These unnerving images lend “The Church” a strange, creeping sense of unease. The movie is genuinely spooky for most of its run time.

This is despite a script that can best be described as scatterbrained. “The Church’s” story barely makes any sense. It basically boils down to the bad juju in the church making all sorts of weird, creepy shit happen. A major problem with the movie is that there’s no defined protagonist. At first, Evan the new librarian seems to be the main character. The movie even devotes time to his romance with Lisa. On the other hand, Evan is the first person to become possessed and disappears for the rest of the movie. Hugh Quarshie’s heroic priest gets top billing and resolves the story. However, he doesn’t do much besides that. The sacristan’s daughter may be the main character. We follow her for most of the run time. Asia Argento, even at only fourteen years old, is still the most captivating actor in the movie. Yet she never drives the plot, merely reacting to it. In the second half, there’s over a dozen people in the church. There’s a biker, his girlfriend, a bride and her wedding party, a teacher, her students, an elderly couple, the priests, and probably a few others. Time is split between each of them, leading to a lack of focus just when “The Church” is truly ramping up.

Italy is, obviously, the most Catholic country in the world. Weirdly, you don’t see more Italian horror films commenting on Catholicism. “The Church,” however, breaks this trend. The movie begins with a clan of Christian knights massacring an entire village of people with little reasoning. The cruelties and indignities of the Catholic Church inform the backbone of the film. Many people have been tortured and persecuted in the name of God. The exact source of the evil in “The Church” is never outright stated. However, it’s implied that the demonic forces come not from the supposed witches but instead from the cruelty inflicted on them by the church. “The Church” seems more then willing to use classic Catholic imagery in an effort to unnerve. The demons and monsters seem inspired by bizarre, medieval frescoes of demons and the devil. Hooded men, standing around and chanting, take on a sinister quality even before the weird shit starts happening. “The Church” acknowledges that Catholicism is kind of weird and then twists the religion into startling, strange, unnerving directions.

Despite some plotting problems, “The Church” is hugely successful as a creepy, visual horror show. Soavi inflicts some truly strange and eerie imagery on the audience. The film cultivates an unnerving atmosphere that never truly lets up. It’s also full of inventive slaughter and sleazy nudity, if those are the things you’re looking for. Truthfully, the only horror fans likely to be disappointed in “The Church” are those that demand constant coherence and logic from their movies. And if you’re an Italian horror fan, you probably aren’t too invested in those things, anyway. [8/10]

The Monster of Piedras Blancas (1959)

When I was reading Fangoria as a teenager, they had this thing called the Chainsaw Awards. Basically, the fans would vote for what they considered the best horror films from the past year. (It was an inspiration for own silly genre award show, the Phantom Awards.) Apparently, horror fans have always felt the need to give fake awards to movies they like. Back in 1959, Famous Monsters magazine – the prototype for all horror mags – awarded “The Monster of Piedras Blancas” the Shock Award. The makers of the film were so proud of this achievement that they slapped the award right there on the poster. Though obscure even by monster kid standards, “The Monster of Piedras Blancas” does have a minor cult following.

Piedras Blancas is a real place, a seaside outpost near the California town of San Simeon. The location is most famous for its light house. In “The Monster of Piedras Blancas,” the town is a sleepy location full of normal people, going about their lives. Like lighthouse keeper Sturges or his comely daughter Lucy. However, the town is shocked when headless bodies are discovered along the coast. It turns out the caves around Piedras Blancas are home to an inhuman, reptilian monster. Now, the creature has developed a hobby of collecting people’s heads. How is the lonely lighthouse keeper connected to the deadly beast?

“The Monster of Piedras Blancas” was a low budget independent monster movie, made primarily by craftsman and workers recently laid off by Universal Studios. Accordingly, the movie resembles many late period Universal sci-fi or monster movies. Like “The Monolith Monsters,” the small town setting proves charming. Piedras Blancas is a place where everyone shops at the same small store. The only place to go at nights is the local bar and the neighborhood priest is on a first name basis with everyone. Moreover, the movie cooks up a cute mythology for its titular critter. Like the Gill-man, the monster is said to be a remnant survivor of a long since extinct species. Real diplovertebrons were crocodile-like amphibians, while the movie’s monster is a pig-faced monster man. All throughout the film, legends of the monster are traded. Nobody believes them at first but, naturally, the creature soon proves itself real. Silly quasi-science and hokey small town settings might put some viewers off. I find them fun.

Like a lot of indie horror flicks of the time, “The Monster of Piedras Blancas” features some oddball characters. Most notable is Kochek, the eccentric storekeeper. He keeps talking about the monster, annoying everyone with the lore, until the monster finally comes for him. (Kochek sounds a lot like Kolchak and his constant talk of monsters amused me.) John Harmon plays the lonely lighthouse keeper, whose only friend in the world is his dog and his daughter. Harmon is somewhat gruff but secretly has a compassionate heart. I also like Forrest Lewis as the town’s constable, who is more confused then disturbed by the monster’s grisly murders. He’s also tough enough to survive an up-close encounter with the beast. There’s even a little dark humor, like when a funeral for two of the monster’s victims is interrupted by news of the monster’s latest murder. Not all the performances are fun. Les Tremayne is a snore as the boring scientist hero. Jeanne Carmen, as screaming damsel Lucy, was likely cast more for her looks then her acting abilities.

The setting is comfy and the performances are mostly neat. Yet the monster obviously steals the show. The creature suit was designed by Jack Kevan, who worked on many Universal B-flicks of the time. Apparently, “The Monster of Piedras Blancas” utilized left-over pieces from “This Island Earth” and “The Mole People!” Yet it’s an appealing design, with his hog-like snout, canine-esque jaws, and barely visible devil horns. The monster is even slightly sympathetic, as we learn it is killing only because its regular food supply was cut off. Notably, the film is far gorier then you’d expect from 1959. Decapitation is the Monster’s preferred method of killing and bloody, severed heads put in multiple appearances. The whole thing ends with a shoot-out at that famous lighthouse.

It doesn’t break any new ground. Truthfully, the film is proudly derivative of older, better movies. Monster fans don’t necessarily demand a lot. The creature looks cool, cool enough to warrant many model kits over the years. The black-and-white photography is nicely atmospheric. The setting is appealing. It’s unambitious but, watched late at night with a handful of popcorn, it certainly satisfies. [7/10]

Little Monsters (1989)

Kids do not have the most discriminating taste. They basically watch anything as long as it tickles some sort of primal pleasure center, usually via bright colors, loud comedy, or repetitive fantasy violence. If something does this especially well, kids will watch it over and over again. As a child, I had a dark, washed-out copy of “Little Monsters,” recorded from a rental tape. I watched the movie many times until the tape worn out. Weirdly, after a certain age, I didn’t return to “Little Monsters” much. Revisiting the flick as a grown-up, it’s the first time I’ve thought – much less watched – the movie in years.

Brian is a kid in the seven-to-ten range. He lives with his little brother Eric and his mom and dad. Eric is oblivious but Brian can see that his parents’ marriage is starting to crack apart. Not helping matters is someone getting up to mischief at night. Brian’s bike is wrecked and someone left ice cream in the pantry. Soon, Brian realizes that he has a monster living under his bed. The monster, named Maurice, is actually quite friendly. He introduces Brian to the underground world of monsters, where there are no bed times, kids can do whatever they want, and lots of manic fun can always be had. Of course, this comes with a price. Brian soon discovers not every monster is as friendly as Maurice.

Like I said, kids are easy to amuse. “Little Monsters” is definitely a kid’s movie. When Maurice first appears, he starts shouting and yelling rapidly, leaping around the room. The character stays in this mode throughout most of the film, Howie Mandel pushing his shtick to its extreme. When he pulls Brian into the monster world, yet more goofy, hyper shenanigans occur. “Little Monsters” is also fairly crass for a PG flick. There are fart jokes and multiple references to boogers and ear wax. One scene even has Maurice peeing in a bottle. There’s also a bit more profanity then you might expect. Like a kid’s movie, “Little Monsters” features the easily defined roles of the genre. Brian is the lazy-but-brilliant hero, there’s his tom girl love interest, nerdy friend, and the obnoxious bully. Still, “Little Monsters” is an eighties kid’s flick. That’s significant. The subplot about the parents breaking up informs most of the story. Eventually, a moral about growing up arises. I’m not saying it rises above its genre. The film is actually entirely typical of its time and place.

Watching as an adult, what I most liked about “Little Monsters” is its production design. The world of the monsters is mostly composed of rickety staircases, run down and damaged. The closer the characters get to the villain’s lair, the more surreal the place becomes. There’s even some “Caligari’-esque jagged landscapes. There’s a weird, desolate, and crowded look to the place. The entire dimension is shot through a reddish-brown color filter, creating an interestingly subterranean feeling. The monsters themselves are memorably weird. Maurice, just for one, dresses like a New Wave/Punk kid. Most of the monsters have blue skin, curving horns, or spots all over their bodies. One minor character has a head like a rotted pumpkin. Another appears to be an over-sized cockroach. None of the make-up will blow your mind but the creature designs have their own odd charm.

“Little Monsters” is loosely plotted. There’s not much drive to the story. The film mostly concern itself with Brian and Maurice getting into nasty fun. To show you how lackadaisical the plotting is, the villain Snik isn’t introduced until an hour into the movie. At some point, Brian doubts his monster friend’s habits and fears he may be turning into a monster himself. This plot point is mostly dropped by the end. In the last act, “Little Monsters” shows a surprising willingness to get weird and creepy. The villainous monsters kidnap Brian’s little brother. He goes and confronts the main baddie. The character is named Boy and dresses in a prep school uniform. At first, he appears relatively human but a closer inspection reveals gory flesh raising through his skin. Later, he tears his face off, revealing a monstrous visage underneath. His room is full of toys that spring to life and attack the kids. Not quickly though. Instead, the wicked teddy bears or toy tanks slowly move into place. Obviously meant to be a symbol of arrested development, Boy is definitely one of the weirdest and creepiest bad guys in eighties kid’s fiction.

Of course, the bad guys are vanquished and the heroes prevail. There’s a lot of goofy kid movie antics in the last act of “Little Monsters,” contrasting weirdly with the movie’s creepiness. The film is too long, at 101 minutes. This could have been solved easily is the overly long epilogue had been clipped down. I’m not sure if “Little Monsters” is a good movie. The script is sloppy, the characters are simplistic, the tone is inconsistent, and the performances are broad. I can see why it appealed to my younger self though, with its obnoxious humor and odd creature designs. Adult me doesn’t like it anywhere near as much but I do appreciate certain aspects of it. [6/10]

Halloween 2013: October 26

Cemetery Man (1994)

Italian zombie movies come with their own set of rules. By 1994, the extreme gore and apocalyptic visions the genre is famous for were well-established. Michelle Soavi’s “Cemetery Man” shows disinterest in the tradition of the genre in its opening minutes. After a long pan out of the inside of a skull, Francesco Dellamorte causally shoots a zombie in the head. “Cemetery Man” has zombies in it but is not a zombie movie. Instead, it’s a surreal, absurdest voyage into the psycho-sexual subconscious of its lead character.

Adapted from a novel by Tiziano Sclavi, itself a spin-off of Sclavi’s immensely popular “Dylan Dog” comic, the movie takes a semi-episodic look at the life of Francesco Dellamorte, the caretaker of a cemetery in the small Italian town of Buffalora. The dead buried in the cemetery have a nasty habit of returning to life. However, Francesco’s concerns are elsewhere. He worries about loosing his job, keeping the zombie infestation a secret. He wonders if his life has meaning and if he’ll ever get out of his dead-end corner of the universe. A plot line slowly forms, revolving around Francesco meeting the woman of his dream, only for her to die, and reappear again. The troubles in Francesco’s life pile up, culminating in visions of Death itself, prompting him to murder the dead while they’re still living.

Soavi loads his film with symbols and deeper meanings. A first time viewer has to let the dreamy “Cemetery Man” wash over them. Repeat viewers are allowed to examine the picture, discerning the purpose behind its images. Francesco apathetically slays zombies. He has little regard for life either, even before his murder sprees start. He struggles to find meaning in his life, has few friends, and no future. The cemetery becomes his prison, the job and the town around it inescapable. The events of the film are representative of his inner turmoil. The ending and snow globe imagery reflect this, showing Francesco as trapped in his own cycle of self-defeat. The script acknowledges this is the protagonist's own fault. Dim-witted Gnagi has no problem assembling the skull puzzle Francesco struggles with.

The original Italian title is “Dellamorte Dellamore,” translating as “Of Death, Of Love.” The love of Francesco’s life is a nameless woman that keeps returning to his life. Credited only as She, the woman sets up her own purpose earlier on, asking the man if she “can return.” She is represented by billowing scarfs. The title is visually illustrated when her bright red scarf, representative of love, blows onto a pile of skulls. The nameless woman is less a character then another symbol of Francesco’s self-inflicted torture. During their graveyard set sex scene, the woman stand behind a statue of a headless angel, the wings behind her. Later, the wings fall off the statue, beside Francesco’s feet, marking them both as fallen. The first time She dies in Francesco’s arms, he is unable to save her. The second time he lets her rotting zombie chew on him. The third encounter shows his suffering over a woman he barely knows isn’t worth the trouble it brings. By her fourth appearance, Francesco has come to actively resent his love, another symbol of his endless frustrations. Love, like death, is never as simple as it’s supposes to be.

Don’t think “Cemetery Man” is a pretentious study in symbolism. The movie has a darkly comic streak running through it. This is most evident in Gnagi, Dellamorte’s sole friend and companion. The rotund Gnagi resembles Uncle Fester and speaks only one word, a grunting “Gna!” He grotesquely scarfs spaghetti and mindlessly watches television. He hordes dried up leaves in the same way Francesco hordes old telephone books. Like Stan, he shows his romantic interest in the mayor’s daughter by vomiting on her. Despite perishing immediately afterwards in a motorcycle crash, Gnagi still gets to have a relationship with the girl. He removes her zombified head from her glass coffin, serenading her with his violin. The girl(‘s head) is charmed by the bizarre Gnagi and happily takes up resident in his blasted-out TV. Humor is all over the place in this film, from the oddball motorcycle riding zombie, the mid-film absurdest take on Tod Browning’s “The Unknown,” the mayor’s morbid political grumbling, to Rupert Everett’s sarcastic line readings. For all its melancholy and existential wandering, “Cemetery Man” is a very funny movie.

It’s also, visually, quite a beautiful one. Soavi has always been a fantastic visualist but he tops himself here. The cemetery is another world. Turquoise balls of fool's fire dance through the air. Fog billows among the grave stones. The gates and walls of the graveyard seem to close in on the characters as the story goes on. The tombs are painted in blues and violets. Soavi places his camera in creative locations. It slides between floorboards, under coffin lids and even peers out of a floating head’s mouth. Instead of showing the aftermath of a violent shooting in a simple A-to-B fashion, the camera spins upside down. “Cemetery Man” is equally moody and creative in story and visual presentation.

The ending is inscrutable at first. However, I finally gleamed its meaning on this rewatch. Francesco realizes his greatest treasure had been beside him the whole time and, still unable to escape his own world, devotes himself to his stalwart companion. Rupert Everett is perfectly cast in the lead, Francois Hadji-Lazaro makes one word mean so much, and Anna Falci is achingly desirable. “Cemetery Man” is a unique, beautiful film, Michelle Soavi’s masterpiece, a one-of-a-kind treat for adventurous horror fans. [9/10]
 

Prom Night (1980)

“Prom Night” is the second chapter of a trilogy of slasher films Jaime Lee Curtis starred in early in her career. After “Halloween” and before “Terror Train,” Curtis lend her rising scream queen talent to this Canadian production, a minor classic for slasher fans. Coming so early in the sub-genre’s life, “Prom Night” follows the expected slasher outline. A group of kids while playing an aggressive game of hide and seek in an abandoned high school indirectly causes a fellow child’s death. The police pin the murder on a pedophile. As the years pass, some of the children harbor guilt over the death, while others forget about it. A decade later on the eve of the senior prom, the girls begin receiving threatening phone calls. The same child molester has escaped from prison and murdered a nun already. As prom begins and the kids boogie the night away, a masked man begins to hack his way through the guilty party.

“Prom Night” takes a surprisingly long time to get to its murders. It’s nearly an hour into the film before the deaths start to happen. For such a deliberate pace, you’d expect the characters to be more solidly developed. Most of the large cast aren’t much more then loose ideas. Jaime Lee proves to be the final girl but she’s not quite the protagonist. Curtis’ Kim is mostly defined by her relationship with neurotic brother Alex. Her boyfriend Nick doesn’t have much personality. Asshole Lou and bitch Wendy seem to want to recreate the end of “Carrie” by hijacking the prom. Seymour is the required prankster character. Only Kelly, pushed by her boyfriend into having sex, has any sort of definable arc. She, of course, dies first.

What joys there are to “Prom Night” come from Paul Lynch’s frequently moody direction. He mines quite a bit of sinister intent out of long shots of empty high school hallways. The killer’s first appearance is stretch out nicely, the death coming as a shock, the murder scene fading to red. The creepy phone calls are handled nicely, with extreme close-ups on a pencil thumping at a pad of paper. The ending is surprisingly sincere, playing the material for pathos instead of blatant shocks. While “Prom Night” doesn’t earn that emotion, the attempt is still appreciated.

The movie’s camp factor is probably more entertaining. I hope you kids like disco because this movie is full of it. There are long sequences of cast members dancing to cheesy, canned dance music. Have you ever wanted to see a pre-comedy-career Leslie Nielson boogie his heart out? You’ve got it. The killer’s sparkly ski-mask proves a somewhat comical disguise. Predating “Scream,” the slasher is borderline incompetent. He gets beat up by a nerd. The hilarious van crash has little to do with the killer’s attempt to sneak inside. He nearly forgets his axe during a chase scene. He routinely gets beaten and battered by the film’s heroines. This is probably intentional, considering the murderer is just another teenager.

“Prom Night” is hardly a gory film but what kills it has are quite clever. A shattered glass throat slashing is memorable. The van face stabbing generates a shock or two. The decapitation, the severed head landing on the day-glo dance floor, is darkly humorous. It’s no surprise that “Prom Night” was a big hit in its day and would, years later, spawn the required slasher franchise. The movie’s nothing special but I can see why slasher fans consider it nostalgic horror comfort food. [6/10]

Tales from the Crypt: “My Brother’s Keeper”

I’m rather fond of the premise behind “My Brother’s Keeper.” Conjoined twins Eddie and Frank are stick of being stuck with each other. Frank is bookish and arty, fond of reading, museums, orchestral music, and fancy cooking. Eddie likes bars, loose women, gambling, and kinky sex. Conjoined at the ass, separating the two would prove a difficult, potentially deadly procedure. Eddie wants the surgery desperately while Frank is more cautious. The brother’s condition makes romance difficult. This becomes obvious once Frank catches the attention of Marie. The two develop real feelings for each other, despite Eddie’s obnoxious attempts to break the couple up.

“My Brother’s Keeper” mostly plays it fascinating premise for overly broad humor. The fictional brothers are played by real brothers Jonathan and Timothy Stark. Both actors overdo it, Jonathan especially. Eddie is such a cartoon, slinging cheesy one-liners and spending time with a dominatrix. Timothy Stark isn’t much better, playing Frank as an almost equally broad stereotype. The brothers’ condition is frequently played for easy laughs, such as their bathroom or exercise routine. Still, “My Brother’s Keeper” builds decently. I’m on record as a Jessica Harper fan and she’s wonderful as the woman that comes between the siblings. She brings all of her expected charm to the part. The humor finally pays off towards the end, when the brothers start to fight one another. I’m not sure I like the implications of the ending though. I’m not hard to please. This is another slight but goofily entertaining episode. [6.5/10]

Halloween 2013: October 15

4D Man (1959)

Directed by independent filmmaker Irvin S. Yeaworth Jr., “4D Man” is the second entry in the director’s unofficial trilogy of science fiction/horror hybrids, preceded by “The Blob” and followed by “Dinosaurus!” For his second feature, Yeaworth teamed up with Universal, who distributed the film. The film revolves around two scientist brothers whose experiments intertwine. Tony is hoping to create 4-dimensional force field, allowing someone to pass safely through solid objects. Scott, along with his fiancé Linda, has helped created cargonite, a nearly impenetrable mineral. Through a series of unexpected events, Scott manages to make himself fourth dimensional. His ability to phase through any object, Kitty Pryde-style, has two unforeseen side-effects. First off, he ages rapidly while using his power. Secondly, phasing through a person kills them immediately.

“4D Man” keeps a steady balance between science-fiction, horror picture, and character study. The story is deeply entrenched in the science-fiction conventions of the time. The cast is made up of severe looking men in lab coats. They watch through thick glass as experiments happen. Tony talks a lot about fusing gold and silver together on an atomic level and how his experiment would accomplish this same thing only much more quickly. Scott, meanwhile, is a cog in the machine of industrial science. He is unappreciated by his clueless corporate bosses. A major subplot involves the executive above him going behind his back and stealing his research. The fantastic element of the film is that Tony’s 4D-experiments are powered by human force of will. He is derisively referred to as an “alchemist,” which is actually a fairly accurate. Like many post-nuclear science fiction stories, “4D Man” presents a premise that appears plausible. Closer examination reveals the concepts to be fantastic and merely dressed up in hard science cloths. The movie references radiation giving people cancer but, at the end of the day, it can still do anything.

The film functions perhaps best as a character study. Tony Nelson is not your typical 1950s science hero. He’s brilliant but risk-taking, starting a fire in the opening frames. James Congdon plays the role as a man frustrated that the pace of science is so slow compared to his own ideas. Robert Lansing’s Scott, meanwhile, is as straight-laced a scientist as can be. He believes fully in the method, derides his brother’s outlandish ideas, and focuses solely on plausible science. The script subverts expectations by making Scott into the villainous mad scientist, his irresponsible brother cast as the unlikely role of hero. And it’s all because of a girl. Lee Meriwether, in her first film role, plays Lansing’s girlfriend. Meriwether is a ray of sunshine, contrasting against her harsh fiancé. The three have a picnic early on. Tony and Linda swing on a playground roundabout, smiling and laughing, Scott looking on grimly. The two get lost in a rain storm, take shelter in an abandoned building, and inevitably wind up locking lips. Tony has stolen the heart of his brother’s girl. The film treats this forbidden romance in a surprisingly realistic manner. Linda has to let her boyfriend down easy by rejecting his marriage proposal, in a way that cast neither as villain. Meriwether and Congdon share a moment outside the house, afraid to touch, communicating their affection in words. Ultimately, it’s a broken heart and a frustrated ego that drives Scott to become the film’s monster.

The romance and character interaction dominates the first half of the film. Nearly half-way through, Scott successfully shoves his hand through a steel block. He gets better quickly, phasing his hand through walls, storefronts, realizing too late that the activity drains his age. With that turn, “4D Man” becomes a horror film. Scott’s first murder is an accident but quickly utilizes his ability for revenge. He confronts his unscrupulous boss. Robert Lansing finally comes alive as a performer with a bristling monologue, tearing down the people in his life he sees as his enemies. Like Dracula, Scott sneaks into his lover’s house, lurking above her bed, a moment that builds intensity through character relationships as well as horror movie thrills. Before the end, the film is treating it’s 4D Man as a traditional monster. He leads the police on a manhunt, always evading capture. A little girl tries to befriend him, Scott trying to force her away before making up his mind, a fantastic moment. The focus returns to people at the end, the monster a man, confronting the maiden, put down by the love of his life.

The oddest element of “4D Man” is its score. The entire film is accompanied by a psychedelic jazz score. Some times this is effective. The sparse opening credits, with flashing arrows pointing to the names, is certainly made more memorable by the hot, quivering horns. Sometimes, however, a more subtle would have been more appreciated. The film’s romantic or tense moments are somewhat undermined by the noisy, intrusive score. If nothing else, it paints this clearly as a product of 1959. Another signifier of the time is the bright, vibrant technocolor photography. After watching so many black-and-white films this October, the lovely color is almost searing. The special effects are never quite convincing but more then serve their purpose. Despite the clearly tragic ending, “The End” is still punctuated with a question mark, a doubtlessly silly choice.

“4D Man” is an underrated science-fiction thriller. The script is far more mature then you’d expect, thematically rich and complex, anchored by a trio of fantastic performances. Like the best genre cinema, it uses the fantasique premise to explore the human condition. [7/10]

StageFright (1987)

Right from the get-go “StageFright” is playing with audience expectations. Like I-don’t-know-how-many giallos, we open with a working girl plying her trade on the mean streets. Out of the shadows of the alleyway behind her, hands emerge, pulling her back. Simon Boswell’s frantic electro-jazz score begins playing, by-standers flocking to the alley in choreographed fashion. The killer, dressed in an absurd owl head mask, leaps from the alleyway, rolling on the ground. Everyone begins to dance, in exaggerated, over-the-top fashion. The camera pulls back, revealing the city as a set, the setting as a stage. Director and crew swerve around in front of the stage, the ridiculous musical performance continuing. This is akin to what Mario Bava did in the original ending of “Black Sabbath,” revealing the artifice of the film format, pulling the curtain back. If we read the rest of the opening in this same light, the first few minutes of “StageFright” shows the Italian film industry in miniature. The director is an artist type, determined to push taboos and audience’s buttons. The financier doesn't care about the director’s vision, only if his investment is returned. The actresses are pushed through the meat grinder, degraded, the producers caring not at all. The entire production is rushed, its première only a week away. Considering director Michele Soavi worked for years in the Italian film industry as an assistant director, mentored by filmmakers as divergent as Dario Argento, Lamberto Bava, and Joe D’Amato, he can no doubt attest personally to the shit that goes down on a low budget film set.

Despite its deeply European sensibilities, “StageFright” is not a true giallo. The identity of the killer is known from the beginning while the police play only a small role as absurd comic relief. Instead, the film owes itself to the most American of horror subgenres: The slasher film. With so many of those films depended on formula, many slashers are set apart by their setting. An old, empty theatre auditorium proves a fantastic setting for bloody slashery. The premise is right in-line with the genre: A theatre trope, doing some late night rehearsals, are unknowingly locked in with a brutal serial killer. The unstoppable killer wears a silly mask and offs everyone in creative, brutal ways, utilizing a number of weapons. The cast of characters is large and loosely defined. An actress is pregnant with the sound technician’s child, the leading man is flamboyantly gay, the director is trying to sleep with all of his actresses, etc. It’s not really important. “StageFright” even throws in an improbable spring-loaded cat, this one coming from the backseat of a car.

Despite fitting in perfectly with its slasher brethren, the style of “StageFright” is undeniably Italian. Soavi’s studying under Argento is hugely apparent sometimes. Soavi’s camera swoops around the theater, taking a frantic first-person perspective. The camera swings from a deadly pickaxe, crash-zooms on raised knives, and shows red paint mingling with spilled blood. The style is A-grade, in other words. When the killer finds the work shop, the weapons storeroom, shown from his perspective, blatantly recalls “Deep Red.” Soavi even directly goofs on Dario, either copying or parodying the “man behind a man” reveal from “Tenebre.” Boswell’s score isn’t exactly Goblin-esque. However, the mixture of hard rock and electronic tones still recalls earlier Italian genre films, frequently powering the action.

The film blatantly links horror with opera, mixing murder and dance choreography. The kill sequences continue the Italian tradition of stylized gore. An actress is stabbed repeatedly on stage, calling the audience out on their voyeurism. A man is impaled through a door with a giant, spiraling drill-bit, gore spilling on the floor. A woman is cleaved straight in two through a floorboard, the helpless half-a-body pulled out. “StageFright” doesn’t screw around. Irving Wallace gets a chainsaw. We see an arm sawed off in clear view, followed by a full-on decapitation, the head rolling across the floor. For all its stylization, “StageFright” is intensely, explicitly gory.

Unlike most slashers, who space their kills out over a ninety minute run time, Irving Wallace has eliminated most of the cast by the hour mark. Practically a very gory satire for its first hour, “StageFright” takes a definite tonal shift. The final girl is left completely alone in a theatre with a vision serial killer. The film becomes a series of jitteringly intense near-encounters between defenseless girl and brutal killer. Alicia cowers in a shower stall, the killer attacking another girl in the adjacent stall. Because the design of the mask, you can never be sure what he’s seeing. The hallways strike you as very small, very tight. The theatre becomes very quiet, Alicia aware of how much noise she is making.

One extended sequence in “StageFright” will always stick with me. The music drops out, the camera slowly revolving around the entire auditorium. The killer arranges his victim’s bodies on stage, smearing each with feathers, tossing a mannequin head off. Irving Wallace sits, patting the cat in his lap, head down. The key to unlock door, Alicia’s way out of this nightmare, rest in the slots of the stage. She crawls under the stage, slowly trying to wiggle the key down into her hand, worried about drawling the cat or the killer’s attention. I’ve written about this scene before and how I truthfully, without hyperbole, believe it to be one of the most intense sequences ever put to film. After its torturous conclusion, the scene climaxes with a phenomenal jump-scare, one that always gets me no matter how many times I see the film. The catwalk encounter that follows is great as well, powered by the rock score and making good use of an axe and extension cord, but can’t compare to the edge-of-your-seat intensity of the previous scene. Even if the rest of “StageFright” wasn’t so good, the film would always be great because of that moment.

The final scene returns to the earliest moments meta qualities. Soavi cribs from Argento again, the protagonist remembering back to an earlier scene, searching for a clue. The killer is put down, shot in the head. However, at the last second, blood oozing from the bullet wound, he looks to the camera and smiles. It’s a winking acknowledgement of the cliché of the immortal slasher killer as well as pointing out, once again, that this is a movie aware of its movie status. “StageFright” is a very underrated Italian horror effort, one of the eighties best, frequently overlooked. “Cemetery Man’ is Michele Soavi’s masterpiece but “StageFright” was the film that proved he was a master. [9/10]

Tales from the Crypt: “Judy, You’re Not Yourself Today”

This is one of those “Tales” were you can’t decide if your suppose to like the main characters or not. Brian Kerwin and Carol Kane are two rich assholes, the wife obsessed with appearance, the husband obsessed with guns. When Frances “Happy Gilmore’s Grandma” Bay comes to their door, she puts a medallion in the wife’s hand and switches bodies with her. The husband is confused by the frail old lady claiming to be his wife at first but, after encountering the missus at the train station, begins to believe her. Things wrap up, skip ahead three months, and have to wrap up all over again.

I think “Judy, You’re Not Yourself Today” is suppose to be a parody of gun-rights and the upper-class. Donald is a proponent of gun ownership and the kind of person who definitely should not have access to firearms. If the witch was more obviously on a lower social status, the episode’s satire might be a little easier to read. While where on the topic, the witch’s plot is awfully specific. How did she know the owners of that house were rich? That the wife would handle the necklace? Kane and Kerwin get a funny moments, Kane when complaining about her husband’s shotgun, Kerwin when tricking the witch into believing her new host body has cancer. The ending is weirdly somber, considering how silly the rest of the episode is. I liked Crypt Keeper segments but the episode itself is highly uneven. [5/10]