Halloween 2025: October 10th

Watchers II (1990)

During my review of 1988's “Watchers,” I referred to it as the first of four adaptations of Dean Koontz' novel. That might sound like an odd way to talk about the film of a book that then got three sequels. However, none of the cinematic follow-ups to “Watchers” are truly sequels. Instead, each film more-or-less is another try at adapting Koontz' book. I can only speculate on why “Watchers” would go down this path as a franchise. The changes the first film made to the source material are disliked by fans of the book now. I imagine this was also the case back in the eighties. Not that “Watchers II” is markedly more faithful than “Watchers I.” It just didn't replace the main character with a teenage Corey Haim. While it's tempting to say that producer Roger Corman saws the sequel as a second chance at doing the book right, it's more likely that no one could think of a better idea than simply telling basically the same story a second time.

And so: For the second time, a genetics research laboratory has a top secret government contract. They have bred and modified dogs to be highly intelligent, capable of complex thought and able to understand language. Animal psychologist Dr. Barbara White has been working closely with a golden retriever named Einstein. Unbeknownst to White, the dog is telepathically linked with a hideous monster kept in the facility's basement. A pair of NSA agents arrive to investigate and our killed by this “outsider.” The incident causes the program to be shut down, with the order that the experiments are destroyed. Director Malceno considers the Outsider too valuable to destroyed and stages a fire and outbreak by animal activists. Einstein quickly meets up with Paul Ferguson, a Marine taken to military prison for punching a superior officer. The Outsider is close behind, pursuing the dog and killing anyone who gets in the way. That includes Paul's ex-wife, Ferguson soon suspected of being responsible for the murders. Einstein leads him to Dr. White, an odd trio forming as they work to keep the dog safe and stop the bloody rampage of its monstrous “brother.”

“Watchers II” utilizes the same trick you see in a bunch of eighties and nineties action movies. The hero is a soldier, someone who obeys orders and serves as part of a strictly organized system. However, Paul is introduced with his hands cuffed together, being escorted off by some M.P.s. See, this establishes that he's a bad-ass trained in war craft and killing but he's also a rebel with no use for authority, the kind of lone-wolf underdog Americans love to root for. When it's revealed why he slugged his commanding officer – he was ordered to take men out on a dangerous training mission that got people injured and killed – that makes him an honorable rebellious trained bad-ass. His moral scruples are established immediately, when he protects innocent Einstein from getting run over by some assholes in a Jeep. It's a hacky trick but it totally works here. Not the least bit because Marc Singer, a while off from his “V” and “Beastmaster” glory days, gives the guy a more personality than your standard John Rambo rip-off. Singer plays Paul as something of a smart-ass who mostly stumbles into danger, never seeks it out. He's got a laid-back charisma and sense of humor to him.

When you pair a likable leading man up with a dog that can type, well, that's a winning formula. As in the first movie, “Watchers II” gets a lot of mileage out of the natural adorableness of its canine co-star. The sequence where the dog drives a car is definitely a highlight. When Einstein is trying to communicate with Singer, who plays his bafflement well, that's another good scene. Singer and Einstein are paired up with Tracy Scoggins as Dr. White. The trio have good chemistry together. Such as in the amusing scene where Paul discusses the artillery he has to buy. I like the way Einstein nudges the two humans to get together. As well as how Scoggin's female lead actually listens and understands when it looks like her new guy friend might be a serial killer. “Watchers II” corrects a big mistake the first film made but actually having the girl and the dog get involved during the final showdown with the monster too. 

The cute dog and likable heroes are the main element that makes “Watchers II” a slight improvement. As a monster movie, it's still fairly standard stuff. The suit used to create the Outsider is quite awkward. That it looks like a humanoid figure covered with tumors or malformed flesh is cool but the elongated snout is distressingly aardvark-like. The P.O.V. shots are still obviously inspired by “Predator.” However, I do appreciate that “Watchers II” takes a little more from Koontz' novel, in the sense of making the monster a bit sympathetic. This genetically engineered beast rips people apart, gouges eyes out, and bursts through a window when some teenagers are about to have sex. The script repeatedly clarifies that the Outsider is an unloved abomination. Malceno is the closest thing it has to a friend and he's only keeping the monster around because of its military value. Both Einstein and the Outsider are fond of little teddy bears. Which is cute and typical for a dog but, for a monster, gives it a child-like quality to contrast with its murderous rage. That doesn't make scenes where the Outsider wears a trench coat and walks into a corner grocery store or chats with two bums any less silly. Still, an effort was made.

Lastly, “Watchers II” has far prettier cinematography than a Roger Corman production from 1990 required. Edward J. Pei, who has mostly worked in TV, was the D.P. here. He includes several sequences of rays of light crisscrossing through blue-black rooms. A sequence where Singer stalks the Outsider through the sewers is also well shot. Director Thierry Notz hasn't done much else of note but his work here is competent enough. As with the first shot at “Watchers,” I think the super smart dog still gets side-lined by the more standard monster movie shenanigans. The action theatrics are nothing all that special, save a solid dive out a window. Right after the climax ends, the film goes right into credits, which is somewhat abrupt. No one will mistake this for high art. However, for those of us with a taste for direct-to-video junk of the early nineties, “Watchers II” makes for a more-than-serviceable way to waste an hour and a half. [7/10]

The House At the End of Time (2013)

When you think about it, the idea of being transported through time is kind of scary. You are being picked up from the only period in history you know and are familiar with and put down in a foreign land. If you are lucky, you haven't gone back so far that the language is still somewhat compatible. Getting dropped only a hundred years into the past will still leave you with a lot of changes to adapt to. Another century or more and forget about it. Limiting time travel within your own life time still presents challenges. Such as how much changing one event can effect another, leaving you dealing with the fallout of countless ripples in time that could make your future unrecognizable. Not to mention bringing up some existentially terrifying questions about the nature of fate. While most time travel stories are more on the sci-fi adventure side of things, a few films have attempted to explore the horror potential in the premise. Such as “The House At the End of Time,” supposedly the most successful horror film ever made in Venezuela. 

Back in the eighties, Dulce traveled into the basement of her home. Her husband, Juan Jose, has been stabbed in the neck with a butcher knife. She is then helpless to watch as her eldest son, Leopoldo, is carried into the darkness by an unseen person and vanishes. Authorities find Dulce's fingerprints on the knife and she is arrested for the murder of both Jose and Leopoldo. She is imprisoned for thirty years. Now an old woman, she is allowed to serve out the rest of her sentence under house arrest... In the same house that the murders occurred in. Three decades before, Dulce and Juan Jose's younger son, Rodrigo, died in a playground accident. The tragedy put greater stress on their already failing marriage. That's when the haunting started, the family being visited by strange figures and assaulted by bizarre noises. In the present, Dulce finds the supernatural activity has resumed. A friendship with a local priest reveals the history of the home and how its secrets might hold more answers than Dulce could expect.

At least for its first half, “The House at the End of Time” seems to be a fairly standard haunted house flick. The titular structure, an imposing building of stone with a distinctive tower, certainly looks creepy enough. The paranormal activity is nothing we haven't seen plenty of times before. The disturbing figure, of a semi-nude old man with a knife, is glimpsed in mirrors and over shoulders. Hands reach between the gaps in locked doors, grasping at those inside. Director Alejandro Hidalgo and his team are adapt at engineering scares like this. A fittingly spooky ambiance is created within the dark hallways of the house. While Hidalgo is not above using loud blaring musical scores or sudden intrusions of faces or figures to get a sharp jump out of the viewer, they are well done. A sequence involving a medium, fairly standard stuff for a ghost movie, is quite well orchestrated. A moment where an obscured figure moves through Rodrigo's bedroom towards him is the creepy highlight of the movie. What truly elevates the film, however, is the directions the story twists and turns in. The time travel narrative sees “The House at the End of Time” revisiting many of its previous scares and gifting them with a deeper meaning on their second appearance. Making the audience jump isn't too difficult. Giving that jump scare unexpected emotional resonance later on is a lot harder and a far more noble goal.

While “The House at the End of Time” is definitely a horror movie, the film doesn't allow itself to be narrowed by genre conventions. A lot of other scenes in the film play out like they're from a drama about a family struggling in eighties Venezuela. Juan Jose can't find work and Dulce is starting to resent him for it. Leopoldo and Rodrigo spend their days playing baseball with a number of local youths, including a little tomboy they both harbor a crush for. That bond is what accidentally leads to Rodrigo's passing, the kind of simple mistake that can haunt a kid for the rest of their lives. These scenes are overly sentimental, not helped by a rather mawkish score. The sequences of domestic drama can be rather slow-paced. However, “The House at the End of Time” is invested in its characters and their emotional journeys. The clever script brings almost all its ideas full circle by the end, at which point you truly care about what happens to them. When the true threat, which is very human, is revealed, it works because the script has taken the time to build up meaning behind the emotions and actions of its characters.

I'm writing around some of the surprises “The House at the End of Time” has in store because I want people to discover them on their own. The script is fantastically concise in the way many details introduced in the first half come back around before the end credits. To say much more might dilute the satisfaction of watching it play out. However, I was impressed with the method of time travel the movie invents. Rather than go the science fiction route or utilize your standard magical spells, this is film about one of my favorite fantastical plot points: Architectural magic. The script knowingly invokes Masonic ideas, in how the construction of a structure can effect the events that take place within. This is combined with the idea of significant times and dates, numbers that reoccur throughout history. What if events could reoccur in a similar fashion? It all suggests the occultic idea that symbols and patterns link to a higher, more mystical level of operation. Whether you can actually believe in that stuff or not, it's a way more interesting idea than your standard time travel shenanigans. 

“The House at the End of Time” is further supported by strong performances all around. Ruddy Rodriguez stars as Dulce. While the old woman make-up they have her wearing in the present-set scenes leave something to be desired, she still gives a heart-felt and sincere performance. The child actors also do a good job too, never getting too broad or silly. The musical score is a bit sentimental, some of the kid-centric scenes feeling like they're from an Amblin wannabe. The film, in general, is a bit too slow and gentle-handed at times. However, I was ultimately won over by this one. A Hollywood remake was discussed at one point, with Hidalgo attached to direct that too. That must've fallen through and he instead made another horror film in his home country. Based on the strengths of this one, I'm very interested in checking it out. “The House at the End of Time” is well done. [7/10]

Hollywood Off-Ramp: The Flying Wahoo

Last October, I reviewed an episode of extremely obscure anthology program, “Strange Frequency.” That was an attempt by VH1, a network still best known for music videos at the time, to make their own “Twilight Zone.” Presumably somebody thought it was time for this network not known for scripted programming to give it a shot. Clearly, something was in the air that time among execs of cable channels that specialized in shit other than speculative fiction anthology shows. A year before “Strange Frequency” debuted, the E! Network – a channel known primarily for celebrity gossip and making fun of talk shows – would also make their own “Twilight Zone.” It was called “Hollywood Off-Ramp,” telling twisted tales of fame and fortune, as hosted by a very sarcastic Brian Unger. Much like “Strange Frequency,” it was not successful and failed to redirect the focus of a network that would soon be dominated by reality show slop. While “Strange Frequency” at least got a handful of episodes released on DVD, “Hollywood Off-Ramp” would completely disappear after it finished airing. Copies of the episodes probably reside in some studio archive or producer's basement but the show is, as far as anyone else is concerned, “lost” media. 

Except, that is, for one episode that somebody happened to have on a VHS and then slapped onto Youtube. “The Flying Wahoo” stars David Arnott as a former child star . After a company known as Smiley Time bought the production house of the sitcom he worked on, his part was recast. While this failure still stings, David has a new passion. He is the Flying Wahoo, the costumed mascot for basketball team the Fresno Flyers. Nobody else understands his enthusiasm for wearing a purple raccoon suit, least of all his mother nor the residents of the bar he frequents. When Smiley Time also buys the Fresno Flyers, they play to take the team to San Francisco. David is not expected to come along. Feeling despondent, he continues to insist that he is the Flying Wahoo, which soon prompts an unexpected transformation. Alas, some wishes shouldn't come true.

Aside from the fact that nobody was watching the E! Network for dark fantasy stories, the obvious reason nobody remembers “Hollywood Off-Ramp” is that it wasn't very good. The show was obviously very low-budget, taking place mostly on generic sets. Despite being about a sports mascot, we never actually see the inside of a sports arena. Bizarrely, shots of any actual basketball games are replaced by extremely shitty looking CGI animation of a ball going into a hoop. The acting is overall extremely mawkish, with David Arnott being obnoxiously upbeat and cloying in the lead role. In general, “The Flying Wahoo” seems to occupy a cartoonish and exaggerated version of reality. I guess this proceeds the magical events happening in the last third but it mostly makes the show annoying more than anything else.

Mostly, the writing is what fails here. The way the narrative of “The Flying Wahoo” is structured gives the impression that we are supposed to feel sympathy for the main character. He's constantly being shit on by his griping, hateful mother. His career fell apart through no fault of his own. Now, the next thing he loves, being the Flying Wahoo, is being taken away from him by the same corporate assholes. However, the script portrays him as unlikable, clueless to the point of idiocy with no honest perception of himself or reality. He's more pathetic than sympathetic. The magical event that takes place seems like it should present a solution to his problem. Instead, it only ends up making his life worst. The episode then wraps up on an ending so vague as to be almost meaningless. When combined with Unger's sardonic host segments, the impression “Hollywood Off-Ramp” gives is one of mean-spirited mockery. As if the moral of the lesson is “Look at this dumb-ass fail at his dreams and laugh!” I have foggy memories of watching “Hollywood Off-Ramp” as a kid but this episode suggests the series isn't worth remembering. [4/10]

Born of the Wind (1964)

Before creating exceedingly bizarre cult curiosity “Sins of the Fleshapoids,” filmmaking duo Mike and George Kuchar created “Born of the Wind.” The twenty minute film's plot is simple enough: A mad scientist discovers a mummy princess and falls in love with her, despite his maid clearly holding feelings for him. He realizes that a potion made from blood can bring the mummy to life. After a quick trip to the local blood bank, he's cooked up the right elixir and has himself a cute mummy girlfriend. However, she has homicidal tendencies of her own. Things really start to fall apart when a burglar breaks into the doctor's castle and quickly wins her heart. The attempted break-up that follows ends in a twist that nobody is going to predict. 

You can't talk about the work of Kuchar brothers without first talking about what it looks like. This film and “Sins of the Fleshapoids” were both shot silently, on 8mm film. In order to work around this, “Born of the Wind” operates essentially as a silent movie, hand-written title cards describing what dialogue is necessary to tell a story mostly conveyed through visuals. Though the quality of the film is scratchy and dark, a bizarre visual panache still shines through. The home-made sets and special effects of “Born of the Wind” are charming. A rubber skeleton is wrapped in bright white linen to replicate a moment. Blood is runny red water. A mad scientist's laboratory is recreated in an apartment. Most strikingly are several extremely crudely animated sequences of a bat flying over a gothic tower.

Moments such as that point at what the Kuchars were likely doing with “Born of the Wind.” The film is a DIY regurgitation of horror tropes, randomly remixed in a freewheeling style that recalls kids at play. That's why otherwise unrelated ideas like a mad doctor, a rather vampiric mummy, and newfound love collide so wildly. All of this is done with a degree of camp, everyone involved clearly aware of the limited resources they are working with, compensating with theatrical gusto. It's not surprising to read the Kuchars were an influence on John Waters, as their films carry a similar tone of self-aware outrageous. At twenty minutes, “Born of the Wind” definitely wears out its welcome before the utterly nuts ending. As crude as the Kuchars' later work, ti's still more refined than this. Yet it is an intriguing experiment in micro-budget horror myth-making. [7/10]

Halloween 2024: September 28th

Sweetie, You Won't Believe It (2022)

Zhanym, ty ne poverish

Located geographically and culturally between Russia, the Middle East, and China, Kazakhstan is a country that probably seems remote to most Americans. It has a population of 20 million but global awareness is such that a not inconsiderate amount of people thought it was invented for "Borat." Pop culture is one of the most powerful tools for spreading general culture around the world. The films of Kazakhstan rarely gets much exposure outside its borders, leading to the country's cinematic output unfortunately being obscure. Hopefully that is changing, as more Kazakhstani imports are becoming available over here. And it was only a matter of time before one of them crossed over into that most profitable of all genres. Produced in 2020 by Yernar Nurgaliyev, "Sweetie, You Won't Believe It" is probably Kazakhstan's first horror/comedy. It's certainly the first to make any in-roads in America, thanks to Shudder picking it up.

Relentlessly henpecked by his pregnant wife, Dastan hopes to forget some of his troubles by taking a day long fishing trip with two old buddies, Arman and Murat. The trip gets off to a bad start. Murat throws a bottle of urine out the window and into an on-coming vehicle's windshield. The trio has to improvise a raft from the blow-up dolls Arman sells as part of his sex toy business. While floating down the river, the bickering trio witness a quartet of would-be gangsters assassinate a man that owes them some money. The four take chase after Dastan and his friends. The already tense situation escalates further when a mysterious man with one eye and super-human strength – looking for revenge for a family dog they struck and killed with their car – begins to pursue and brutally kill the crooks. A perverted gas station owner, his lonely daughter, and a helpful horse also become entangled in the proceedings. Dastan, Arman, and Murat attempt to make it out alive and return home before Dastan becomes a father.

At one point in “Sweetie, You Won't Believe It,” there's a shot of a spooky, isolated cabin with a strangely large moon superimposed on the sky above. This immediately made me think of all the similar shots from “The Evil Dead.” It's easy to imagine this as an intentional homage, since Nurgaliyev's film has an similar sense of comedic carnage. The film is an escalating series of bloody mishaps. A key, early sequence has Dastan loosing his pants following a close call with a fishing hook. This is shortly followed by Arman getting his ear lob ripped off in similar fashion. Not long after that, Murat is shot in the ass, a wound he carries all throughout the film. Scenes like this establish the film's  tendency for madcap running gags. Such as the fruitiest member of the criminal gang fainting at the sight of blood. Or one oddball misunderstanding after another, climaxing with Dastan trying to explain to his attempted murderer what exactly is going on. “Sweetie, You Won't Believe It” quickly captures a tone of wacky humor, bringing its various reoccurring gags and set-ups back around in increasingly funny ways. 

While the movie is packed full of belly laughs, there's also some strong filmmaking on display here. Nurgaliyev directed four films before this one and has made four since, while cinematographer Azamat Dulatov has quite an extensive resume. Both are clearly professionals, which is likely why “Sweetie, You Don't Believe It” is such a good looking movie. Off-beat point-of-view shots are utilized, as are some cleverly disorientating Steadycam sequences. A stand-out moment has Marut barely avoiding detection from the killer, ducking behind walls and objects right as the guy turns his back each time. It's an impressive scene, that skillfully balances both suspense and comedy. The finale features some well-done fight choreography too, showing a definite influence from Hong Kong action movies. The whip sharp editing further emphasizes the clever camera movements, acting much like punchlines to jokes. The movie's visual construction and its loopy comedic tone are right in line with each other. 

I'm admittedly fairly ignorant about Kazakhstani culture. While “Sweetie, You Won't Believe It” surely reflects the unique attributes of its filmmakers and storytellers' lives, the script also focuses on universal themes. Dastan being an expected father, in over his head and overwhelmed, is something that can be found in any country. The movie ultimately centers around the meaning of manhood. Dastan's friends mock him, saying he's whipped by his controlling wife. Murat claims to be a police officer, greatly exaggerated his own achievements. Meanwhile, the quartet of gangsters are all tightly bounded with each other, despite their constant bickering. Once the bloodshed starts, the shotgun-wielding Petok becomes obsessed with avenging his fallen brothers. More is revealed about these guys' backstories as the film goes on, the different men standing up for one another. Dastan learns to defemd himself against his brutish wife but the movie's thesis is less macho and woman-hating than that suggests. The script ultimately decides that standing by, and standing up for, those you care about is how actual manliness should be valued.

“Sweetie, You Won't Believe It” is my favorite kind of discovery: A movie I went into with no expectations that ended up surprising and delighting me. The cast are all fully committed to their parts, the script smartly giving us a clear idea of who these people are very quickly simply through the way they act and look. While the influences are evident – “Texas Chain Saw Massacre” is another one, Leatherface's legacy spreading across the globe in a way Tobe Hooper surely couldn't have anticipated – the movie manages to bring them all together in a fresh and funny way. Only some iffy special effects, used to display the killer's superhuman abilities, stick out to me as a negative. Even if the bizarre subplot about the gas station owner and his daughter never quite goes anywhere, I had fun with it too. This is an energetic, consistently hilarious, cleverly engineered genre hybrid. [9/10]

Bizarre (1970)

The DVD era was truly a time for unearthing forgotten, weird films of years passed. I don't think streaming or the Blu-Ray/4K days will dig up as many baffling obscurities. A good example is a British anthology film from 1970 known in its native land as "Secrets of Sex" but released abroad as, simply, "Bizarre." The directorial debut of Antony Balch, the film was subject to censorship and re-cutting when new. Afterwards, it would sink into obscurity before Synapse put it out on disc in 2005. That's when I first read about it and the mixture of mummy movie, kinky skin flick, and anthology horror stuck with me. No physical re-release has followed since but the movie is available on various services, meaning it's time for me to catch up with this one. 

In days of old, the lover of a judge's wife was locked in a trunk and cast off a cliff. Now an immortal mummy, the man has watched the battle of the sexes play over the centuries. He presents six tales: A naïve man poses for a torture themed photoshoot, unaware of how far the female photographer plans to push things. A childless widower marries a younger woman with the intention of producing an heir, unaware that she carries a strange hereditary condition. A married man catches a female burglar attempting to rob his house, a game of seduction ensuing. A socially awkward American orders a call girl, hoping to share his fetish for reptiles and dinosaurs with her. An old woman captures the souls of her lovers in the flowers in her garden. The lengthiest segment involves Lindy Leigh, a lady spy recruited to use her sex appeal to gather secrets from a foreign dignitary. 

"Bizarre" can be classified as an odd fusion of comedy, erotica, and horror. The segments that veer towards the macabre and strange are strongest. The first episode, about the bondage photoshoot, is by far the best. It revolves around a distressing torture device called the Spanish horse, the story mining a bit of suspense out of the boundaries between pleasure, pain, commerce, and the battle between the sexes. The fetishistic angle returns with the call girl sequence. Using fish-eye lens effects and exaggerated sound design, the story shows accurately how our sex drives and otherwise innocent interests can become entangled in our youths. It also features a prominent role for the Crystal Palace Dinosaurs, pieces of infamously bizarre Paleo art that add an amusingly off-beat flair to the middle section. Sadly, the segment doesn't have much of an ending. A similar complaint can be leveraged at the second and final stories. Both are rather dialogue heavy, largely composed of two people talking around a dinner table or in a greenhouse. The scientist plot does feature one startling bit of special effects, briefly glimpsed though it is. 

At the very least, these episodes come the closest to achieving the film's apparent goal of showing us what a kink-focused Amicus movie might look like. As a comedy or a piece of softcore pornography, "Bizarre" is rather dire. It's a cliché that the British sex comedies of this era are neither very funny nor all that sexy. I'm not familiar with the genre but if "Bizarre" is any indication, I'm inclined to believe it. The burglar story features lots of shots of the leading man and lady's asses in unflatteringly drab underwear. (The movie seems quite fixated on the buttocks, usually clad in ass crack exposing briefs.) The segment builds towards some unenthusiastic dry humping and the extremely odd use of a telephone. The spy story is "Bizarre" at its most belabored. Magazine style graphics flash on-screen throughout, trying to inject a level of cartoonish wackiness the segment simply can't match. All the actors seem deeply uninterested as they march through the obvious double entendres that lace the screenplay, on the way towards a deflated punchline of a final scene. There's a story nested inside this one, of a slapstick silent movie the characters watch that is far more painfully unfunny. There's nothing worse than bad comedy, goofy incidents desperately trying to wring laughs out of the viewer but lacking the timing or wit to achieve that.

Besides his work as a director and an exploitation distributor, Balch is probably best known as a collaborator of William S. Burroughs. The wrap-around segments are when this is most obvious, when the film shows a flair for artsy weirdness. A long scene devoted to women in lingerie being splattered with food, before shirtless twinks with tommy guns attack, is too odd to forget. The mummy host is voiced by Valentine Dyall, a character actor whose distinctive baritone was put to good use on British radio. Dyall has a talent for delivering absolute nonsense with a convincing seriousness. This is most evident in a long, hypnotic montage of various men and women, the mummy asking us to imagine making love to each one. If "Bizarre" had stuck to this weirdo approach, abstract scenes loosely illustrating its themes of sex and gender conflict, it probably would have been an all together more satisfying film. 

All omnibus features are uneven. If the 1st and 5th stories were presented on their own, they would be decent short films. When stacked alongside the dreadful third and fourth episodes, and the fairly listless second and sixth, the result is an off-center film that never finds its footing despite the obvious creativity on display. With its history of censorship, I expected "Bizarre" to be more explicit. I suspect its queer elements, of crossdressing and men-on-men kissing, is what most offended the guardians of decency of days past. Balch's life story – a gay genre film enthusiast who wormed his way into the industry he adored through sheer force of will, meeting many of his heroes along the way, before dying young of cancer – is likely more interesting than any of his movies. The idea of a horror-tinged skin flick hosted by a melodramatic mummy sounds irresistible but "Bizarre" never quite lives up to that logline. [5/10]

The Hitchhiker: Windows

If you see Page Fletcher and his weird mullet babbling pseudo-philosophical gobbledygook, you know you're watching "The Hitchhiker." "Windows" follows Jake, a struggling artist living in a weirdly spacious apartment somewhere in Paris. He's having a hard time selling any paintings, putting a strain on his relationship with his girlfriend, Sophie. While observing the temperamental couple in the building across from him, Jake paints a scene of the man shooting the woman. His creative block removed, Jake starts to paint constantly... But is disturbed when he seemingly sees his neighbor actually shoot his wife. He becomes convinced that his paintings predict the future. When Jake paints himself killing Sophie, he becomes delirious. 

The stereotype of the young and hungry artist is usually a passionate, high-minded individual who pretentiously rants about how no one understands their art. Whether this is true or not, it's certainly what's depicted in "Windows." Jake is kind of an asshole, honestly. As played by the whiny David Marshall Grant, the character comes across as totally self-absorbed. Sophie, played by the very blue-eyed Annabelle Mouloudji, is nothing but kind to him. Their conversations still usually end with him yelling at her. The protagonist totally ceases to be sympathetic when he screams at her about the true meaning of art as she flees his studio. (Especially since his paintings look more like comic book panels than high art.) By the time he's smacking her around – an incident his brush strokes naturally predicted – you want to see this guy get his comeuppance. While the implication is that Jake's paintings are the result of some unexplained precognition, they strike me more as self-fulfilling prophecies. Especially by the conclusion, where he basically talks himself into trying to murder his girlfriend. 

If this was an E.C. Comics style fable about a lousy crook getting their just desserts, such a spiral might be more compelling. Instead, I think we're supposed to root for Jake. Or at least relate to his artistic constipation. That's certainly the impression I get from Rene Manzor's music video style direction. The episode features lots of Dutch angles and evocative lighting, most notably in the scene where Jake photographs himself posing with a gun. Some of these images are definitely cool. The final shot, of a shadow crossing a painting and looking like a gravestone's cross, is neat. However, Manzor can't bring the sense of hyper-reality to this half-hour potboiler that he displayed in his feature, "3615 Code Pere Noel." "Windows" is among the highest rated episodes of "The Hitchhiker" but I'm not sure why. Some flashy direction isn't enough to redeem an unlikable protagonist and a lack of tension. [5/10]

The Addams Family: The Addams Family Splurges

The space race was big news in 1965, leading "The Addams Family" writers to draw inspiration from it. "The Addams Family Splurges" has the kooky clan deciding their next vacation should be to the moon. The supercomputer in their basement, named Whizzo, calculates that they only need a billion dollars to fund such a journey. Gomez decides to raise the money by betting on race horses, with Whizzo predicting the winners. Their financial broker, Mr. Hulman, finds the whole situation absurd and refuses to make the bets. However, Whizzo's predictions come true. This leads to Mr. Hulman aghast at how he'll pay the Addams back.  

By now, maybe the creative staff of "The Addams Family" realized the gag of folks being frightened of the family was getting a bit overdone. This is the second episode to feature an outsider unaffected by the Addams' house dressing. Instead, Roland Winters' Mr. Hulman is simply the straight man in the ridiculous situation the family has engineered. Winters is good at getting laughs from exasperated reactions to everything that unfolds. Probably the highlight of the episode is a circular conversation between him, Gomez, and Morticia about the morality of gambling. There's also at least three jokes about Hulman considering suicide and two about Uncle Fester threatening to shoot him in the back. I don't think "The Andy Griffith Show" was cracking one-liners like that. 

This one of the episodes that really emphasizes the kooky over the creepy. Gomez' supercomputer makes all sorts of goofy noises, Fester puts on an elaborate space helmet, and the episode ends with the announcement that Tristan and Isolde – the family's pet piranha – have devoured each other. Gomez and Morticia are also seen doing some sort of bullfighting themed pet play. Good for them. Thing gets some good chuckles here, Ted Cassidy conveying a lot of amusing emotion with only one hand. I'm beginning to think this show really was a lot weirder than "The Munsters." [7/10]

Halloween 2022: September 19th

The Fall of the House of Usher (1928)

La chute de la maison Usher

Sometime before 1839, Edgar Allan Poe was inspired by local legends surrounding the crumbling estate of a Boston bookseller, as well as E.T.A. Hoffman's "Das Majorat," to write a story. That story, "The Fall of the House of Usher," was one of the earliest literary successes of Poe's career, later prompting the publication of his collection, "Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque." And since Poe is the grandfather of the horror genre as it exists today, this story has been a frequent choice for cinematic adaptation. By some grand coincidence, there would be two silent film versions of the story made in 1928. One was produced in America but was largely overshadowed by a longer adaptation by French critic turned film pioneer, Jean Epstein. Epstein's "La chute de la maison Usher" has remained an influential work of gothic horror. 

Anyone well-versed in the genre should know the general gist of Poe's "Usher." An unnamed traveler is called to the remote home of his friend Roderick Usher. Roderick suffers from a sensitivity to light and sound, his fragile mental state seemingly reflected by the disrepair of the mansion. The biggest alternation this version makes to the source material is changing Madeline from Roderick's sister to his wife. The nevertheless, her fate is the same. After she seemingly dies, Roderick entombs her only to learn, soon enough, that she was buried alive. The two are consumed by their own madness, the house collapsing around them, and a curse on the entire Usher family is fulfilled. Epstein's film even includes the usually excised story within the story, of a medieval fantasy Roderick reads in an unsuccessful attempt to calm his frayed nerves. 

Epstein's "Usher" features a writing credit from Luis Bunuel, a year before he would create "Un Chien Andalou," his groundbreaking surrealist film. Bunuel and Epstein didn't work together well and, supposedly, the completed film features little of his writing. Yet it's easy to see why Bunuel, with his life-long interest in dreams and their interaction with reality, would be drawn to Poe. Dreams and visions of madness were reoccurring themes throughout Poe's writing. In this "Usher," the unreality of Roderick's fragile mental state being linked to the ruined home is emphasized. Epstein and Bunuel's film draws the viewer into Roderick's mad mind, attempting to recreate his sensitivities and obsessions in the viewer. As the Ushers die and their home is consumed by the Earth, the film has successfully crossed the boundary from the real world into the realm of twisted, madness-soaked dreams. 

Epstein's film mostly pulls this trick off with what is some extraordinary camerawork for 1928. The camera moves smoothly but in an off-center manner. Slightly askew close-ups occur all throughout, fixating on the actor's faces or the objects of Roderick's obsessions: his painting, the nails driven into his wife's casket, his lute. Early photography tricks, like double exposures blending together in one frame, are also employed. Among the film's most striking visuals, which adore many of its posters, is Madeline rising from the grave, her burial shroud blowing in the wind around her like a wispy aura. All of this replicates the visual language of a dream, quickly creating a feverish ambiance. That atmosphere is paired with some images of gothic scenery so foundational, they would come off as hokey if this film wasn't 94 years old. A hooting owl watches the manor from a tree outside. Currents billow in stone hallways. A lone coachman drives through a dark and foreboding forest. And, naturally, the titular abode is as strewn with shadows and cobwebs as was possible. 

It's a good thing "La chute de la maison Usher" is so overflowing with surreal photography and spooky atmosphere. Otherwise, it's kind of dry. The pacing is slow, the film feeling dragged out despite only running 63 minutes long. Numerous scenes seem to go on much too long, such as Madeline's burial or Roderick describing his painting. In addition to the standard silent movie title cards, sometimes text from books and letters appear on-screen. This is used to very literally convey the story-within-the-story, by far the movie's dullest stretch. The acting is also fairly hammy. Jean Debucourt, as Usher, seriously overdoes it with his overly expressive hands and madly staring eyes. Margurite Gance, as Madeline, wears a maudlin face through all of her scenes. The film is obviously set within a constructed reality but it struggles to overcome many of the pitfalls of silent cinema. 

This might be why, after finishing up it, I couldn't help but feel like I probably prefer the other 1928 version of this story. That one is even more experimental and manages to squeeze the whole thing into 15 minutes. Yet I don't want to take away from the strengths of this particular take either. Epstein's film has some extraordinary advantages of its own, especially its impressive photography and camerawork. In its best moments, it's a calculatingly dream-like take on one of Poe's most iconic stories, full of powerfully spooky imagery that still stands up nearly a century later. Not a bad choice to start a Halloween Blog-a-Thon with. [7/10]

The Amazing Colossal Man (1957)

By the end of 1957, Bert I. Gordon was actually in-demand as a maker of movies about giant monsters. He had previously directed “Beginning of the End,” about giant grasshoppers attacking Chicago, and “The Cyclops,” about a giant cyclops attacking Lon Chaney Jr. Jim Nicolson of American International Pictures bought the film rights to the novel “The Nth Man,” about a man growing to enormous size, in hopes of cashing in on the success of “The Incredible Shrinking Man.” Roger Corman was originally in-line to direct but dropped out after reading the script. That's when Nicholson brought Gordon into the A.I.P. fold, obviously aware of his ability to quickly make cheap, profitable movies about big critters. “The Amazing Colossal Man” was filmed in June of 1957 and on drive-in screens before the end of the year. 

In the Nevadan desert, the military is testing a new plutonium bomb. An airplane crash-lands in the test field minutes before the bomb goes off. Lt. Colonel Glenn Manning rushes into danger to rescue the pilot and is caught in the explosion. Left covered in horrible burns, it's assumed he will die... That's before the burns miraculously heal overnight. Then Glenn begins to grow and grow. His irradiated cells are causing him to expand at a substantial rate every day. This will quickly cause him to loose his mind and his heart to give out. His fiancée tries to keep him sane and scientists rush to save his life. Yet it's still only a matter of time before Glenn Manning becomes the Amazing Colossal Man.

Bert I. Gordon's movies are not usually very empathetic affairs. His stories about giant insects or other animals rampaging through towns and cities rarely devote much time to the creatures' inner lives. A giant spider is just a giant spider, a threat capitalizing on people's fear of arachnids and nothing more. Yet, clearly drawing inspiration from “The Incredible Shrinking Man,” “The Amazing Colossal Man” focuses much more on Glenn's plight than on his inevitable rampage. In fact, we even see flashbacks to his time in the Korean War, suggesting he has PTSD even before turning into a giant. Many scenes are devoted to his girlfriend and a scientist trying to reverse his condition. The scenes where the science behind his condition are explained are hopelessly goofy. Yet the pathos of his situation, of a good man turned into a curiosity, are played fairly straight. 

Another reason B.I.G. movies don't usually have much melodrama is... Well, his scripts were rarely any good. “The Amazing Colossal Man” is no different in that regard. Its drama is ham-fisted. Its scenes of scientists talking are often tedious. Yet there are multiple moments I enjoy here, largely thanks to Glenn Langan in the titular role. Sporting a shaved head and wearing a giant diaper for most of the movie, Langan digs into the frequently ridiculous dialogue he's given. When monologuing about being a freak inside a circus tent, or speculating on how large he'll grow, Langan goes gloriously over-the-top. His guffawing, mad-eyed performance is easily the highlight of “The Amazing Colossal Man.”

Being the type of movie it is, “The Amazing Colossal Man” cannot spend its entire runtime focusing on Glenn's mad rantings and the sad circumstances of his transformation. He has to escape and go on a rampage. As is totally expected of a B.I.G. production, the special effects are unconvincing. Subpar photography effects puts Glenn in the same shot as normal sized people. His rampage mostly has the actor standing around underpopulated miniature sets of Vegas landmarks. He rips up a cardboard version of Vegas Vic, tosses a giant high heel shoe off a roof, and seems to consider putting a giant crown on before deciding against it. He grabs a girl and, with no skyscrapers in Vegas to climb back in 1957, has to scale the Boulder Dam instead. As far as monster movie rampages go, it's extremely underwhelming. Glenn's apparent death is especially laughable. 

I say “apparent” death because “The Amazing Colossal Man” is one of the few Bert I. Gordon movies to receive a sequel. “War of the Colossal Beast” would follow the next year. This is not the only sign that Gordon's partnership with AIP was mutually beneficial. His next three films would be distributed by the drive-in titans. Two decades later, he would re-team with the studio to make two more, latter-day giant creature flicks. While it's hard to call any of Gordon's movies “good” exactly, they all have a certain charm to them. This is true of “The Amazing Colossal Man,” a Gordon movie that is equal parts surprisingly ambitious and totally underachieving like always. It's got a hell of a title though, which is probably why that's been referenced so many times over the years. [6/10]

Time Walker (1982)

The mummy, unquestionably, has its place in horror history. The classic Universal films permanently embedded the image of an ancient Egyptian corpse, shambling about in rotten bandages, in the public's mind. The ease of wrapping someone in toilet paper has also made it a perennial Halloween costume choice. Yet, as far as being frightening goes, the mummy probably ranks at the bottom of the classic monster archetypes. Stiff with the ages, mummies are painfully slow. While a shuffling gait hasn't stop zombies or Michael Myers, the mummy lacks the visceral threat of those guys. Movie mummies are famous for strangling people, which is probably the least cinematic way to murder someone. And mummies lack the symbolic importance, mythological roots, or cultural resonance of Frankenstein, vampires, or werewolves. Not to mention it's hard to bend modern stories around ancient Egyptian history. Many filmmakers have tried over the years to inject some modernity into this hoary undead subgenre. One such attempt was made by New World Entertainment in 1982 with “Time Walker.”  

Despite being fully excavated in 1922, King Tutankhamun's tomb somehow produces new discoveries in “Time Walker.” An earthquake uncovers the sarcophagus of Ankh-Venharis, said to be a prophet from the heavens. The mummy is shipped to California, where Professor Douglas McCadden uncovers a strange green fungus growing on the shockingly well-preserved corpse. The archaeology department x-rays the mummy multiple times while another student steals five crystals from a secret compartment in the casket. This combined effect seems to reawaken Ankh-Venharis. With a glowing light emitting from his chest, the resurrected mummy sets out to recover the stolen jewels. Douglas, his students, and the campus police attempt to locate the missing mummy, uncover its origins, and stop the murders and the spread of a strange, flesh-eating fungus.

"Time Walker" is most interesting as a movie pulled between older, hokier, instincts and then-modern sensibilities. In 1982, a mummy attacking people was about as antiquated as a horror premise could be. In some ways, "Time Walker" plays that totally straight. There are multiple scenes of the mummy sneaking up on people, via green-tinted P.O.V. shots. Not to mention the plot of a heroic college professor trying to recover a missing mummy, among cartoonish teenage students, feels like something out of "Scooby-Doo." In other ways, this is very much a New World Pictures release from the early eighties. The college students throw a mummy-themed party, which features the kind of sophomoric one-liners you'd expect from an underachieving frat comedy. The scenes of young people pairing off, and getting killed one-by-one by the monster, definitely bring the slasher genre to mind. Yet "Time Walker's" PG-rating prevents any explicit gore. Ankh-Venharis mostly dispatches his victims by tossing them through the air or burning them with his radioactive touch. (The rating didn't stop the inclusion of some gratuitous nudity, because the MPAA didn't give as much of a shit about that stuff in 1982.)

As undeniably cheesy as "Time Walker" is, the movie does have a handful of effective moments. This is the sole directorial credit of Tom Kennedy, a prolific trailer editor and film advertising producer. Despite never making another movie again, Kennedy displays a decent visual eye. There's a shot of the mummy starring up at the moon that's cool. One moment, where the undead Egyptian glides through a misty forest, is kind of eerie. (And a good way to workaround the typical creeping pace mummies usually have.) A chase scene through the empty college hallways, climaxing in the blonde victim hiding in an elevator while the super-strong mummy punches through the floor, is even mildly tense. Richard Band's histrionic score helps build that tension. The addition of a flesh-eating green fungus to the mummy premise provides some novelty as well. Scenes of a finger or a face suddenly covered in the stuff are probably the closest "Time Walker" comes to being shocking.

While it has some clever ideas and one or two effective moments, "Time Walker" never quite finds its (dusty, linen-clad) footing. Ben Murphy's hero is dull as dishwater. The script is fairly repetitive, the mummy seeking his jewels via drawn-out stalking scenes interspersed with montages of Murphy trying to decipher the secrets. "Time Walker" doesn't really get going until its final act. That's when the film's bonkers, "Chariots of the Gods"-inspired twist kicks in. Yes, this is both a mummy movie and an alien movie, an admittedly unexpected combination. That leads to a wacky climax, which intentionally leaves things on an unresolved point, seemingly an overeager attempt to set up a sequel. Let me tell you, I did not expect this, of all films, to literally end with some "To Be Continued..." text. 

It would not be continued. "Time Walker" is not well-regarded. In the annals of New World cult favorites, this one is not often mentioned. That cool twist would even be spoiled when the movie was redistributed on video in the nineties as "Being from Another Planet." Under that title, the film was relentlessly mocked on one of the weaker "Mystery Science Theater 3000" episodes. Despite all the negative points against it, "Time Walker" still somewhat appeals to me. I appreciate the nutty attempt to reinvent the mummy premise as something spiffier in the eighties, while still maintaining the stiffness we associate with this type of story. I guess that's just the old school monster kid in me. Nothing says Halloween like a mummy movie to me, even if most of those aren't very good. [6/10]

Oculus (2003)

Not long before Halloween last year, I reviewed Mike Flanagan's “Absentia.” That was the filmmaker's micro-budget debut, which so impressed people that Flanagan quickly got a chance to pitch a project to a major studio. Namely Blumhouse which has largely defined the horror genre – at least as far as mainstream audiences are concerned – in the last decade. It was a clearly successful partnership, as Flanagan made two more films for Blumhouse before jumping to an even more acclaimed partnership with Netflix. I have yet to love anything Flanagan has done. “Absentia” left me cold. I described “Doctor Sleep” as “dopey.” “Gerald's Game” was pretty good. I keep watching the guy's movies, in hopes eventually I’ll love one as much as other people do. Might as well kick off Halloween 2022 with my latest attempt, in which I give “Oculus” a try.

“Oculus” follows brother and sister, Tim and Kaylie Russell. When they were kids, their mother suffered a psychotic break, eventually leading their father to murder her. The event deeply traumatized Tim, who has just been released from a years-long stay in a mental hospital. Kaylie has come to believe that everything that happened in their childhood home was the work of a cursed mirror their father owned. She has reacquired the mirror, placing it in the old house, and is thoroughly documenting everything that happens around it. While Tim is skeptical at first, it soon becomes apparent that Kaylie is right. The mirror is evil, it exerts an incredible influence on the people around it, and it is determined to protect itself. 

There’s a big issue facing “Oculus:” It’s about a scary mirror. Making an unmoving, basically inanimate object a source of fear is always tricky. How is a mirror going to hurt you? Fall on you? In order to overcome this narrative obstacle, Flanagan adds a bunch of temporal displacement to the story. The mirror seemingly influences the siblings to do things, that they have no memory of. (Or at least makes them think that.) The script jumps back-and-forth between the present day and the siblings' childhood. We see the evil influence the mirror had on the family as it played out, while Kaylie also attempts to convince her brother of the supernatural events happening right now. Naturally, past and present begin to fold in on each other. Whether actual time travel is happening or if it's just an elaborate series of hallucinations isn't made clear. As in “Absentia,” Flanagan keeps the rules of this otherworldly threat frustratingly vague. If nothing else, this is a cleverer solution to the premise’s inherent problem than anything “Mirrors” cooked up. 

My frustration with Flanagan's obtuse stabs at cosmic horror might be rooted in the actual instincts the director displays. Mike Flanagan is good at making scary sequences. A scene where Kaylie sees a sheet over a bust behind her generates some nice tension. A moment prominently featured in the trailer has her picking up an apple and biting into it, only to realize she's actually munching on a light bulb. Shit like this is easily understood. They are reliable, well executed scares that anyone can grasp. Yet Flanagan's ultimate goal to creep out the audience gets increasingly desperate as "Oculus" goes on. The jump scares start coming more frequently. Attackers leap out of the shadows suddenly. Goofy ghouls with reflective eyes start to lunge on-screen. It all feels like a standard boo-show – using the incomprehensible quality of cosmic horror merely as another tool to spook audiences – that is starting to run out of ideas. "Oculus" is based on a short. As is often the case with feature expansions, the film frequently feels like an attempt to stretch-out an idea that worked better within the confines of a 32-minute runtime. 

It's become a cliché to say that all modern horror movies are about trauma. Millennials are obsessed with themes of trauma and catharsis, for obvious reasons. While this observation has been unfairly leveled at a lot of movies, "Oculus" really is about childhood trauma. Tim has spent his entire adult life in therapy, trying to grapple with the fact that his father murdered his mother. He's ready to move on. Kaylie, meanwhile, is trapped by the past, obsessed with it. Her unwillingness to let go of her childhood pain will see her and her brother repeating the trauma of their young lives. "Oculus" never seems to come to a clear point about these themes. Much like "Absentia," this plot ends on a disappointingly vague non-conclusion. Yet I guess Flanagan deserves points for not just using trauma-rehashing as set dressing on his otherwise typical spook show. He actually bakes the idea into the foundation of the story. 

A lot like James Wan, I come away from Mike Flanagan's movies respecting his craft more than anything else. He knows how to engineer a perfectly cromulent scare. Yet I guess his films just don't feel personal to me. "Oculus" is way better than a movie about a scary mirror has any right to be. The lead performances, from a nicely panicking Brenton Thwaites and a stern-faced Karen Gillan, are fine. The musical score is above average. While the film's last act is a frustratingly extended act in tail-eating, it does make good use of an anchor suspended from the ceiling. Ultimately though, "Oculus" just doesn't hold together as a whole for me. A handful of decent moments and plenty of technical know-how isn't enough to make up for an underwritten script that runs out of steam long before the end. Maybe I should give one of Mike Flanagan's TV shows a shot next? Or perhaps I should just accept that his work doesn't click with me. [6/10]

The Legend of Sleepy Hollow (1972)

In the pantheon of great American ghost stories, few occupy the vaulted position that Washington Irving's “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” does. I think most every school child reads it. At least, that was the case back in my day. Considering its unique place in the American canon, it's unsurprising that the “Sleepy Hollow” story has been adapted to film countless times. The earliest film version was made in 1896 and countless others have followed. Among the more forgotten adaptations is a 13 minute long animated take from 1972. However, this “Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” most notable for being narrated by John Carradine, has recently been rediscovered thanks to Severin including it as a bonus feature in their extensive folk horror box set. 

The animated short condenses Irving's story down to its bare essential elements. The Dutch colony of Sleepy Hollow in upstate New York, school teacher Icabod Crane, comely young heiress Katrina Van Tassel, her suitor Brom Bone, and the legendary Headless Horseman. Lanky Icabod's fondness for food, harshness with his students, and the Jack-O-Lantern wielding Horseman not being able to cross the bridge are maintained. What really distinguish this “Legend” is how it looks. The animation is cheap, with limited movements. Yet the bold, washed-out colors used in this kind of low budget seventies animation – whole scenes being shaded in red or yellow – is eye-catching in its own way. The character designs are also memorably weird. Icabod Crane looks like a jagged, gangly goblin of some sort. 

My biggest issue with this “Legend” is that it partially disregards the ambiguity of Irving's ending, as Crane is shown to definitively survive his encounter with the Horseman. It definitely probably should've been a little creepier. Carradine's narration is more whimsical than foreboding, which feels like a waste of his talents. Early on, there's references to an Indian chief cursing the area or a woman-in-white ghost, the short never quite recapturing the spookiness of those moments. Yet it's an interesting curio that I'm glad I got a chance to see. The short certainly can't top the Disney version but it's still intriguing to see an iconic horror story like this adapted for kids without being defanged of any of its horrific content. [6/10]