Halloween 2025: September 19th

 

The Long Walk (2025)

By 1976, a English teacher from Maine had published two novels. His first, about a bullied teenager with telekinesis, sold slowly in hard cover but became a best seller once published as a mass-market paperback. His second, about vampires emerging in a small town, was an immediate success. As the author prepared his third novel – about a haunted hotel –  he revised a nasty little story he wrote back in high school entitled “Getting It On,” about a homicidal teen shooting his teachers and taking his classroom hostage. At the time, his publisher would only put out one book a year from the same author. At the same time, Steve was starting to wonder if he truly deserved his rapidly growing success or if it was all a fluke. He decided to publish “Getting It On,” now called “Rage,” under a pseudonym and have it released with little publicity. This is how Stephen King became Richard Bachman. The two wrote the same sort of fiction but Bachman was meaner, without happy endings. The second Bachman book, “The Long Walk,” was the first novel King ever wrote and was published in 1979. After the truth about the author was revealed, “The Long Walk” became a favorite among fans of the author. Despite largely being devoted to teenage boys walking and being killed, numerous high-profile filmmakers have attempted to adapt it over the years. After George Romero, Frank Darabont, and André Øvredal couldn't get it made, screenwriter JT Molner and director Francis Lawrence would finally bring “The Long Walk” to theater screens this September.

Following a civil war and economic collapse, America has become a military dictatorship. As part of the new regime, a contest is held every year. The Long Walk is a simple marathon. Teenage boys from all over the country enter the lottery to join. Those that are selected are asked to walk for an undetermined amount of time. Their speed is constantly tracked by machines on their wrists. Should they drop below a specific feet-per-minute pace, they receive a warning from the military convoy trailing alongside. Should it happen again, a second warning. Should it happen a third time, they are executed on the spot. The winner of the Long Walk is the last boy standing and, supposedly, he will receive whatever wish his heart desires. The event is watched over by The Major, who will greet the final survivor at the race's end. Ray Garraty joins the Walk because he has a personal grudge against the Major. He's not the only one in this year's lot. As the walking goes on and on, and more boys die, bonds are formed, wills are tested, and secrets are revealed. 

King would write “The Long Walk” during the waning days of the Vietnam War. It's not too difficult to see the parallels in the story. This is, after all, a tale about America sending explicitly teenage boys off to die for a totally pointless cause. The Major barks out jingoistic phrases and encouragement, telling the boys that they are doing this for America, that their country honors them, that they are the bravest and strongest the U.S. has to offer. As the walk goes on, and the guys talk amongst themselves, it becomes clearly that every son in the country enters into the lottery to join the contest. Economic conditions have gotten so miserable that every sixteen year old male is willing to risk death for the slim chance of escaping it. After all, only one out of fifty young men is going to make it. What kind of odds are that? The system is utterly rigged against the youths, in other words. They are signing up to die, for the slightest chance that they might make it to the end and be able to escape a life of crushing poverty. All while the authority figures that made this gory spectacle go on about what an honor it is, what a brave sacrifice they are making. This was relevant in the late sixties when King first wrote it. It's sure as hell still relevant now, when economic divides are starker than ever in this country and military service – a chance to get your head blown off so the American imperialistic experiment can go on and military contractors can make another cool billion – seems to be a rare escape from collapsing cities and dead-end small towns with no future. 

In such a totally fucked-up situation, what keeps you going? What, befitting the metaphor of an endless foot race, keeps you moving forward? Ray is ultimately seeking revenge on the Major, who executed his father for the crime of distributing banned books and music. Stubbins, among the more mysterious walkers in the race, similarly has his eyes on the military leader. Others among them, such as the loud-mouthed Hank, simply desire to take care of their loved ones. McVries, the closest companion Ray finds on this journey, tries to encourage his new found friend not to pursue the path of violence. To try and make the world a better place, not merely add more bloodshed to it. However, in a place where the cards are stacked against you so severely, what else can you do? “The Long Walk” is partially a film about the value of political violence, if such acts can truly bring about a better tomorrow or if kindness is the only true path forward. It comes at a time when such questions are very much worth asking, here in America. Do you keep walking to make a better tomorrow? For a chance to dent an evil so great you can hardly imagine it? Or do you only hope to protect those you love and ensure a future for them? All troubling, complicated questions that need asking. 

King's book was set in a loosely defined dystopian future that looked a lot like the early seventies. Lawrence's film maintains that setting. There are no cell phones, aerial drone technology, or internet in this story. The image of school age kids being ruthlessly gunned down inevitably brings the epidemic of mass shootings in this country to mind but “The Long Walk” isn't really about that. Minimal allusions are made to the current rise of American fascism. The Major – played by Mark Hamill at his gravelliest, having gone from the fresh-faced young rebel to the faceless voice of cold-blooded authority – makes references to the youngest generation being lazy. How no one wants to work and how these damn kids today are responsible for the economic depression in the country. Certainly not those in power who made the system in the first place. It's the kind of embittered Boomerisms that are practically timeless, as all authoritarians seek to shift the blame to whatever scapegoat is most visible. Such themes are sadly universal. (Further proven by King's novel being a key inspiration for “Battle Royale,” another story about a government creating a system to kill kids and then blaming those kids for things being this way.)

Such political and social concerns aside, “The Long Walk” is simply a relentlessly effective piece of storytelling. The cinematography, from Jo Willems, is both wide and intimate, never getting in its own way. The focus is mostly on the faces of the boys as they walk and the desolate landscape – really, could be any small town, rural part of America – they journey through. The title screen is held off until the first bullet rips through the first victim, a brutal moment that sets up the level of violence and realism on-display here. “The Long Walk” is an often brutal film, full of bodily fluids, that makes every gunshot hurt. When walking uphill during a rain storm, the amount of guns going off recalls a military battle, leaving the same sort of trauma response on the boys as war time would. The titular contest is one designed to break its participants and it does. Minor injuries and unavoidable biological needs become killers. Ankles shatter, faces scrap on concrete, shoes are worn through, lungs strain, blood vessels burst, but mostly minds and wills are broken by the relentless, unending walking. The film follows that same path and the violence within is fittingly brutal, the tone utterly grim. 

More than anything else, “The Long Walk” is an ensemble piece. It's easy to see why so many talented filmmakers have found themselves unable to crack it over the years. Fifty kids walking in a straight line and talking to each other doesn't sound very cinematic. The book was previously adapted to the stage, which probably seems like an easier fit. However, Lawrence's film focuses on the compelling performers bringing these surprisingly fleshed-out figures ot life. Cooper Hoffman plays Ray and is given a choice monologue about his dead dad, a moment unavoidably rich with real life subtext. A lot like his father, the younger Hoffman has a practical and relatable presence paired with a willingness to expose deep emotions on-screen. He pairs well with David Jonsson, Tut Nyuot, and Ben Wang as the other central boys. All of whom gift their characters with a surprising amount of quirks and details, that typically colorful King-ian dialogue and gift for backstory truly triumphing here. I was also impressed with Charlie Plummer and Thamela Mpumlwana as Barkovitch and Pearson, parts that could've been one-note that these actors manage to make colorful and fully formed. 

That's a good example of what a textured film “The Good Walk” is. It never burdens itself with the background of its setting. However, this dystopian alternate universe – really not that different from the one we have now – feels alive and detailed, people having lived sad and desperate lives in this crumbling empire. The philosophical discussion of the material border on the melodramatic at times. With a less talented cast, it easily could've been. Thankfully, the film has assembled a hell of a group of young performers. It's a serious downer of a film but a powerful one. Honestly, I'm kind of surprised the movie got made at all, during the time that it did. Lawrence and Mollner certainly impress with this one on a level far above their previous output. It's an excellent adaptation – the ending is actually better than King's – and a strong film in its own right, distressing and thought-provoking in all the right ways. So get used to it cause Trump is probably going to introduce the real thing in like six months. [9/10]

Whatever Happened to Aunt Alice? (1969)
 

Robert Aldrich had us questioning what ever happened to Baby Jane in 1962 and telling Sweet Charlotte to hush, hush shortly after that. Theater audiences were then bombarded with a whole succession of aging actresses doing horrible things to each other, being tormented by the next generation, gaslit by their companions, or occasionally going on axe murdering sprees. We said die die to my darling, pictured Mommy dead, told Pretty Peggy to scream, wondered what's the matter with Helen, asked whoever slew Auntie Roo, observed that Aunt Martha sometimes does dreadful things, and proclaimed Dear Delilah dead. Most of these so-called hagsploitation flicks came along nearly a decade after the progenitor, kicked off by Aldrich's much later capper to his quasi-trilogy. Which he would only produce but the connection to his earlier hit was evident in the equally salacious title. That would be "Whatever Happened to Aunt Alice?," which actually opened at number one at the box office in July of 1969. 

Claire Marrable used to be the wife of a very rich man. "Used to be" being the key phrase there. She is informed that her late husband's estate has had all its assets seized, leaving her with nothing but a moldy old stamp collection. She moves out to the Arizona desert, next door to a single mom and her nosy kid. After an argument with Rose, her housekeeper, she beats the other woman to death and buries her body underneath a palm tree. Shortly afterwards, she hires another live-in maid. After learning old Edna actually has some money in the bank, Claire kills her as well and empties her account. While at a party her nephew is throwing, Claire meets Alice, a retired nurse and widow to a stock broker. Claire hires Alice to be her next companion... But Alice is not all she seems. She's actually there to investigate the disappearance of an old friend, Claire's previous victim. The two women sneak around each other's backs, plotting against one another, and trying to uncover the truth. It won't be long before Claire is compelled to kill again.

The psycho-biddy trend gave a number of actresses unexpected last acts of their career, usually giving them one more chance to ham it up to high heavens in frequently campy material. Geraldine Page was only 44 at the time she filmed “Aunt Alice” but that did not stop her from absolutely devouring the scenery. While most films patterned after “Baby Jane” made some attempt to make their unhinged old ladies at least a tiny bit sympathetic, Page as Mrs. Marrable is utterly unforgivable. She begins the film harassing the estate agent. She spends most scenes belittling everyone around her. She is, in a sense that I would consider complimentary, a bitch. Page attacks the role with such irresistible venom. Claire is a wicked woman, an unrepentant murderer who never acts anyway but selfishly. Yet she's so entertaining while doing it. That makes her exactly the kind of cinematic villain that we love to watch, no matter how devious she might be.

Starring opposite Page is Ruth Gordon, fresh off “Rosemary's Baby.” Before the film reveals that Alice has a secret of her own, the audience can tell something is up with her already. When the reveal arrives, it sets a nicely suspenseful premise. We the viewer know Alice is there to uncover Claire's murderous tendencies. It's also evident that Claire has her suspicions about the new maid, while also intending to disguise her homicidal habit. That means there are multiple layers of suspense at work, the audience constantly left to wonder who knows what and how much they know. Director Lee H. Katzin knows how to tighten the screws too. There's a fantastically framed sequence where Alice is digging through her employer's papers, before Claire arrives unexpectedly and nearly catches. That suspenseful undercurrent builds towards a nicely lurid last act, where the old ladies seem to genuinely beat the crap out of each other. A moment in a car, Page wearing a distinctive red wig, goes in a similarly wild direction. 

“Whatever Happened to Aunt Alice?” has a lot going for it, in other words. Gordon gives a naturalistic performance as Alice, in contrast to Page's theatricality. The southwest setting provides a good sense of isolation, the home standing out in the flat landscape. Joseph Biroc's cinematography – second time that name has cropped up this September – further emphasizes this. However, “Aunt Alice” is kept out of the top-tier of hag horror standards by an unnecessarily junked up screenplay. The film simply has too many subplots, a number of supporting characters that never quite come into focus. A romantic story line is especially unneeded. It distracts from the central dynamic between the two women. Still, Theodore Apstein's screenplay does pack in some fabulously ironic swerves. The role of a stray dog comes around nicely while the final scene features an amusing twist.

The film definitely has some major flaws. However, an deliciously evil performance from Geraldine Page easily keeps the film afloat. Moreover, the film shows a fine understanding of Hitchcockian suspense, often putting bombs under tables and letting them tick away while the characters go about their bloody business. Page would continue to have a fine career for the next twenty years, popping up in a few other horror related projects here and there. (Three episodes of “Night Gallery” and “The Bride.”) Director Katzin would make a few other notable films – a Steve McQueen race car movie, a wacky sci-fi flick with Bruce Dern – but would mostly work in television. That's a shame, as this film suggests he certainly had some talent for thrillers. Assuming we can give him credit for this one and not attribute the whole movie to Aldrich. Anyway, “Whatever Happened to Aunt Alice?” is a pretty good example of this type of thing. [7/10]
 

 

 

Tales of the Unexpected: A Harmless Vanity

Though I'm rather fond of Roald Dahl's fireside host segments, the author only hosted the episodes of “Tales of the Unexpected” based on his own writing. This amounted to about 26 installments, mostly in the first two seasons. Some of the later “Tales” are also well regarded though. Such as “A Harmless Vanity,” from the fifth series. The episode follows Mary, a dowdy married woman who suspects that her husband, a boat salesman, is having an affair. After talking with Liz, a friend and co-workers of George's, she learns this is true. Her husband is sleeping with a younger, sexier woman named Carol. Mary wants to meet the woman. Despite Liz' objections, she talks Carol into going to the beach with Mary. First, Mary dyes her hair blonde and buys a revealing bikini, to make herself feel younger. A tense afternoon follows, the younger woman unaware of her connection to Mary. All of the women are also unaware of a man in a scuba suit, sitting on the hill and watching When Carol goes for a swim in the sea, the diver attacks and drowns her. This is not exactly what Mary wanted and she feels a sense of guilt over the death... Until she goes back home.

“A Harmless Vanity” is based on a story by Theda O'Henle, an author I am otherwise unfamiliar with. However, the episode does grapple with a surprising amount of themes. The title suggests this is a story about a woman feeling insecure in her appearance. That she wants to compete with the younger woman by getting a brighter hair color and putting on a sexy suit. Upon seeing Carol on the beach, however, it becomes apparent that she can't compete with the perky breasts and fresh-faced youth of her competition. This moves the story into more of a melancholy direction, the wife left to wonder about how she's wasted so much time on a man that would trade up like this. Or that the man she loves is exactly that shallow. Sheila Gish conveys a lot of those stormy and complicated emotions on just her face and with the sad undercurrent she adds to her dialogue. 

This is one of the “Tales of the Unexpected” that does fall into the thriller genre though. There's a definite tension in the air between Mary and the other woman, who remains totally unaware of what's at stake here. Into this already tense situation enters the unnamed third party. Director Giles Foster introduces the stalker through binocular point-of-view shots, with some heavy breathing underneath too. That introduces some “Halloween”-style disturbance of the norm here. It creates a sense of seasick – excuse the pun – unease as the story moves towards its homicidal plot point. Which is surprisingly graphic. The ending, as unexpected as advertised, is an ironic trap for the philandering husband but doesn't let the wife off entirely either. Almost as if she subconsciously willed this to happened. Maybe not fair to her but bleakly compelling never the less. [8/10]

 

The Addams Family: The Great Treasure Hunt

“The Addams Family” would not often be described as a plot heavy series but this episode is an exception. “The Great Treasure Hunt” begins with Morticia and Gomez having a romantic evening up in the attic during a thunderstorm. After a dripping leak ruins the mood, they discover a chest that once belonged to Peg-Leg Addams, a pirate descendant. Included is half a map supposedly leading to his greatest fortune. The family goes searching through the home for the other half, Gomez soon discovering it. Afterwards, it is decided that they will charter a boat to the Caribbean and find the treasure as a family trip. First they need a boat though. Unfortunately, the duo they hire for the job – Captain Grimby and his pal, Mr. Brack – are more interested in the amount of cash the family has laying around than the treasure. They return in the middle of the night with the intention of robbing the place, Fester becoming their most uncooperative hostage. 

“The Great Treasure Hunt” sees the “Addams Family” returning to the central joke of the program, that the series has mostly been avoiding in season two: Outsiders arriving at the Addams' abode and being freaked out by all the weird shit they see. Shortly after the would-be boaters arrive, Fester drives his motorcycle through the living room while wearing a diving helmet, Morticia makes kissy-faces at the pet piranhas, and Cousin Itt emerges from an iron maiden. (You would think a guy named Brack would be more accustomed to wacky shit.) Otherwise, this episode does feature stronger sight gags than that. A bit involving an anchor and life-saver Fester has prepared for the trip got a chuckle out of me. As did the family vault being hidden behind a series of googly-eyed portraits. A nice silly moment has the gong usually used to summon Lurch being out-of-order, causing Gomez to rely on a more sensitive back-up. There are good, weird bits involving a wine bottle cork and a piggy bank. This episode also features an instance of antagonistic outsiders attempting to torture a member of the Addams family, with them responding with delight. A scene that benefits from Jackie Coogan's odd-ball comedic timing.

That last point isn't the only element from “The Great Treasure Hunt” that makes me wonder if this episode wasn't a direct influence on the beloved duo of live-action films. The opening scene of Morticia and Gomez getting romantic in the attic is quite reminiscent of many of Raul Julia and Angelica Huston's scenes together. As is the dead-pan reaction to a the water dripping on her forehead. Carolyn Jones' line upon pulling a sextant from Peg-Leg Addams' box is a surprisingly direct innuendo. I also like the conversation Wednesday has with her dad about what the kids are learning in history, or the nonchalant way he disposes of a live stick of dynamite. That is a little darker, a little edgier than the jokes on your average episode. The subplot about the sailors trying to rob the house is a bit of a dud. The twist endings about the true nature of the hidden treasure is even more obvious. Once the characters start talking about going on an exotic cruise, the viewer can't help but assume it will get delayed. There's no way a tropical vacation was in this show's budget. Not a bad episode otherwise though. [7/10]

Halloween 2024: October 31st - HALLOWEEN

I don't live in a neighborhood that sees much trick-or-treating which, for many years, made Halloween night the major anticlimax to the season. Luckily, I have a friend who does live in a bustling suburb and he happily invited me over to help every year. Donning a plastic werewolf mask and some rubber dinosaur hands, I venture over to join the frivolity before heading back home to feast on fun-sizes candy bars and horror movies all night. 

Bunnicula, the Vampire Rabbit (1982)

Recently, while at a Spirit Halloween, I spotted adorable plush toy versions of Freddy Krueger and Pennywise for sale. Making children's toys based on monsters that kill children is somewhat morbid. (Not that these toys are meant for kids so much as adult collectors.) At the same time, it follows a long cultural tradition of horror movie villains inevitably getting watered down into something soft and cuddly for children. Honestly, I'm fine with the existence of Count Chocula and Monster High and other extensions of this habit. Kids love horror and deserve to have age appropriate entry points. Another such example is Deborah and James Howes' 1979 children's book, "Bunnicula, a Rabbit Tale of Mystery," which introduced the world to a vampiric fluffy bunny rabbit that sucked the juices from vegetables. I read it as a kid and enjoyed it too, though my monster loving habits were already well established by then. What I didn't know until very recently was that the book was adapted into an animated special in 1982, produced by Ruby-Spears for ABC Weekend Special block. I like to kick off my October 31st with a vintage Halloween special and, seeing as how a kind soul has uploaded "Bunnicula, the Vampire Rabbit" to YouTube, decided to give this one a look. 

My memories of the Howes' original book are admittedly fuzzy, seeing as how I was probably six when I read it but this adaptation still struck me as rather loose. The hook is maintained: Harold the dog and Chester the cat, pets of the Monroe family, are our protagonists. The two boys bring home a rabbit one day, asleep in a box full of soil and containing a note that reveals his name to be Bunnicula. Shortly afterwards, vegetables that have been rendered white by having all their juice sucked out begin to turn up. Chester, an avid reader, suspects Bunnicula is a vampire while Harold is more skeptical. To this simple story, Ruby-Spears added an entire subplot about the factory the family dad works out closing down due to an apparent haunting and the neighbors coming to believe that the Monroe's new pet rabbit is responsible for their vegetable gardens being raided. 

Despite being produced in the eighties, "Bunnicula" feels much more like a product of the previous decade. The character designs are uninspired, with the human characters looking utterly generic. The animation is unimpressive, frequently stiff and often rather flat as well, with dull colors and unimaginative framing. The cheapness is evident in the notable continuity errors. Such as the writing that came with Bunnicula interchangeably being referred to as Russian or Romanian. Or the rabbit – his design sickeningly cute – making noises that sound a lot more like monkey chatters than rabbit squeaks to me. The result is a 29 minute presentation that feels a lot like Hanna-Barbera's "Scooby-Doo" series from the time, though lacking the occasional dopey charm of that franchise. What I'm saying is that "Bunnicula" is lacking in Halloween vibes, instead betting much more heavily on wacky animal antics to keep the kiddies entertained. 

This is most evident in how the special treats the title character. Despite getting top-billing, Bunnicula doesn't do much throughout the brief runtime. Mostly, we only see the little bunny sleeping in his box or being carried by the other animals. If any tension can said to exist in the story, it presumably comes from Chester and Harold's disagreement over Bunnicula's true nature. That is kind of ruined by this special being subtitled "The Vampire Rabbit," don't you think? If you're looking for an adorable cartoon lagomorph doing vampiric acts, "Bunnicula" will let you down as well. It's not until the finale, in which the animals investigate that bizarre subplot about the factory being haunted, that Bunnicula does anything at all. The results prove underwhelming, this vampire lepus seemingly having the power of telekinesis via red glowing eyes. One suspects that was chosen so that Ruby-Spears could very cheaply animate the climax, which inexplicably reveal a pack of wolves to be responsible for the ghostly activities around the factory. Surely, even a child would realize that a wolf could never be mistaken for a ghost, much less responsible for similar activities. 

Like far too much underachieving children's media, "Bunnicula" is most concerned with imposing a moral on any young viewers. The literary "Bunnicula" is about jealousy and acceptance, Chester the cat learning to overcome his suspicions of the new family pet and greet him as part of the family. This is still somewhat present in the cartoon, Chester eventually expressing sympathy for the animal he suspected if being nosferatu. (Or, perhaps, nos-fur-atu.) However, this is muddied largely by the other stupid shit added here. The subplot about the neighbors blaming Bunnicula for their drained crops makes little sense, existing seemingly only to include a shot of the classic horror cliché of a mob with torches and pitchforks. The conclusion bends towards a totally different moral too, one of responsible pet care.... However, the final scene mostly has me wondering how the parents allowed a bag of vegetables to sit on the counter, in a grocery bag, for two weeks. When combined with the bullshit with the factory shutting down because of a wolf infestation, it gives the impression that "Bunnicula" was written in a weekend. 

Considering "Bunnicula" was produced by the same studio that brought us such esteemed products as "Chuck Norris: Karate Kommandos" and "Rubik the Amazing Cube," perhaps my expectations where too high. But, I don't know, guys. I kind of think kids deserve slightly higher quality programming than crap like this. James Howe, after Deborah's passing, would write six more books about Bunnicula, as recently as 2006. The books would also inspired a three season animated series that aired on Cartoon Network and Boomerang from 2016 to 2018. From what I've seen of it, that "Bunnicula" looks aggressively manic but I'd wager it's still a lot better than this subpar production. In other words, if your kid is a fan of vampires and soft fuzzy bunny rabbits, skip this cartoon and go straight to the book. By the way, the YouTube upload includes the original commercials. The ads for Nintendo Cereal and Connect Four probably have more cultural value than "Bunnicula, the Vampire Rabbit." [5/10]

The Lady and the Monster (1944)

Universal would kick off the American horror genre as we know it in 1931, with the one-two punch of “Frankenstein” and “Dracula.” Horror would then fall out of popularity later in the decade, before the 1939 release of “Son of Frankenstein” led to a second wave. This time, studios besides Universal and the Poverty Row guys were starting to churn them out. Columbia teamed up with Boris Karloff, RKO gave Val Lewton free reign to create a legendary run of films, with Paramount and Warner Bros making a few notable titles too. Republic Pictures, a mini-major best known for their serials and westerns, decided to take a stab at the genre with some classy monster flicks starting in 1944. As if to guarantee success for the film, Republic would pull from Universal's pool of talent and adapt Curt Siodmak's novel, “Donovan's Brain” as their first chiller of the decade. “The Lady and the Monster” has been eclipsed by later versions of that same story but I've long been curious about it.

Professor Mueller, deep within his castle laboratory in the Arizona desert, has been working to preserve a brain's lifespan outside of the skull. With the help of his assistants, Dr. Patrick Cory and the young and beautiful Janice, he hasn't seen much success thus far. During a stormy night, news breaks that a plane has crashed near-by. Inside was millionaire industrialist William H. Donovan. Mueller illegally extracts Donovan's brain from his body, blackmailing Cory into helping him. The duo successfully keep the brain alive afterwards. However, that is when Cory begins to act strangely. He hears voices, pursues goals that aren't his own, and grows increasingly violent and unhinged. It turns out Donovan's brain, separated from his body and amplified by the machine, has telepathically taken control of Cory's body. Janine wants the brain destroyed but Professor Mueller won't let his experiment come to an end.

“The Lady and the Monster” – not to be confused with Paramount's “The Monster and the Girl” from a few years earlier – was directed by George Sherman, who had a long career of mostly undistinguished work. However, the film also happened to have John Atlon as its cinematographer. Atlon would come to fame for his work on noirs later in the decade before winning an Oscar for photography “An American in Paris.” Atlon makes sure that “The Lady and the Monster” looks brilliant. Every sequence set in Mueller's laboratory is thick with atmosphere. The shadows of the equipment are cast huge on the towering walls, the mad scientist glowering in the shade of his work. Whenever the brain is seen floating in its vat, it's backlit in such a way as to look far more ominous. There's more than a few noir-esque shots of men framed by the shadows of window shades too. Basically, the film provides exactly the type of monochrome ambiance that I desperately crave from classic horror films. 

If only “The Lady and the Monster” told a story as sharp as its visuals. As opposed to Siodmak's novel, where Dr. Cory is the sole scientist on the experiment, this adaptation adds far more characters to the story. The addition of Professor Mueller brings with it more melodrama, such as him harboring a crush on Janice and often abusing his maid. The film also focuses far more than was necessary on the mechanics of Donovan's fortune, his scheming widow after the riches, and the murder case tangled up with the incident. To put in the words of a far more observant man than myself: There's too much plot getting in the way of the story. This results in a 86 minute runtime, which is still short by any ordinary standard but about twenty minutes longer than most forties monster movies. The overwritten script is also evident in the strange reoccurring voice-over from an omniscient narrator in a few scenes, an odd inclusion.

Erich von Stroheim is probably better remembered as a director but, in his lifetime, he was more successful as an actor. Probably inspired by his villainous turn in “The Great Gabbo,” von Stroheim would star in a few horror flicks, such as this, “The Crimes of Dr. Crespi,” and “The Mask of Diijon.” He never grows the fangs shown on the poster and only wears the fedora and overcoat in one scene. Nevertheless, Stroheim makes for a fine mad scientist. His ability to make only a look menacing, without having to raise his voice, is well utilized. As Cory, Richard Arlen is a likable enough heroic type. However, when the persona of Donovan takes over, he does quite well as an aggressive, threatening villain. This is most apparent in the film's climax. Czech ice skater Vera Ralston, as part of a concentrated effort by Republic to turn her into a movie star, gets top-billing as Janine. It's easy to see why Ralston's acting career never quite took off as she's rather wooden here, with a thick accent and incredibly stiff body language. Her lack of chops is a big detriment towards the film being better than it is. 

Ultimately, you win some and you lose some. The 1953 version of “Donovan's Brain” is more faithful to the source material. However, it certainly lacks the riveting, expressionistic cinematography of this take. I'm going to be honest with you guys. “The Lady and the Monster” is probably a fairly leaden attempt at a horror film, especially compared to the pulpy fun of Universal's flicks at the time and the psychological complexity of Val Lewton's work. However, all those glorious black-and-white visuals go an awfully long way with me. When combined with a strong beginning and ending and a pair of decent performances, it's easy for me to overlook the dragging middle section and give this one a recommendation. [7/10]

The Woman Eater (1958)

A while back, I was reading an old article from Bogleech in which he discussed his favorite monsters from fifties B-movies. Being a seasoned classic horror nerd, I had seen or at least heard of most of the movies high-lighted in that list. Except for one. That would be “The Woman Eater” – entitled merely “Womaneater” on most prints – a creature feature made in England in 1958. Upon further research, I discovered something else about the movie. It is one of the few monster flicks out there about murderous plant life. Outside of the Pods, Audrey II, and the Triffids, that's not a style of beastie you see too often. Simply knowing that there was another cheesy monster movie out there I hadn't seen was enough for me to want to seek out “The Woman Eater” but knowing it was a killer tree picture? Oh yes, that's a fine addition to anyone's Halloween marathon. 

Five years ago, Dr. Moran travelled into the depths of the Amazon Rainforest in search of an elixir known to the local tribes. The potion is said to be able to bring the dead back to life. Moran spies a secret ritual in which a beautiful woman is fed to a carnivorous tree, which supposedly produces the miracle drug he is after. In the present day, Moran and Tanga – a member of the aforementioned tribe – have relocated the woman-eating tree to his lab in London. The two abduct women to feed to the monster, much to the concerns of his housekeeper and the attention of the local police. Meanwhile, mechanic Jack meets dancer Sally, the two quickly falling in love. Jack sends Sally to work for Moran, unaware of the doctor's murderous habits. She gets the job but will this means she is doomed to become the next victim of the Woman Eater?

One of the great – if you'll excuse my flagrant abuse of the word “great” – laughably goofy monsters of fifties B-movies is the Tabanga from “From Hell It Came.” In fact, the perpetually scowling visage of that creature is the whole reason to see that movie. “The Woman Eater” is also a movie about a murderous tree. For what it's worth, this creature is not as silly looking as the Tabanga. In fact, it's fuzzy branches and insectoid claws are slightly creepy. When you look at the Woman Eater, you can't be entirely sure what you're seeing at first. Adding to the uncanny element of the titular beastie is that it's never specified how exactly this carnivorous tree devours people. The fact that a murderous tree, by its very nature, is an immobile threat that can do much probably made it a hard monster to build a story around. This probably explains why the creature is not in nearly enough of the movie. However, I do think it's an interesting idea for a cinematic critter. 

As a horror movie from 1958, “The Woman Eater” is also from that odd transitional time for the genre. It is beholden to the conventions of the previous decade, with its big rubber monster and mad scientist villain. At the same time, the film shows signs of the more salacious direction horror would go in only a few years later. The title promises us women being eaten and that is mostly more implied than shown. At the same time, the movie still features lots of shots of women in low-cut dresses being hypnotized and pushed into the flesh-eating tree. I don't know why Moran feeds his tree exclusively on beautiful women but it provides lots of opportunity for shapely actresses to appear in the film. None are more shapely than Vera Day, whose proportions bring Mamie Van Doren to mind. A notable sequence has her sitting in the passenger seat while her boyfriend fixes a car, her breasts framed perfectly in the shot. She's also introduced in a hula skirt. Director Charles Saunders was clearly enamored of her or at least of the way she looked. 

In other words, “The Woman Eater” is positioned between between a nastier type of exploitation movie and a hokey rubber monster movie. This is also apparent in the casual sexism of the script. Our hero falls for Sally upon seeing her in a swimsuit. Later, he repeatedly mocks her for a perceived lack of intelligence, which she seems to think of as charming flirting. Moran wants to possesses the girl the minute he lays eyes on her too. This angers his housekeeper, who is in love with him. When he cruelly rejects her, she becomes unhinged and violent. Bitches be crazy, am I right? “The Woman Eater” pairs its misogyny with a fair bit of racism too. The indigenous shaman who becomes Moran's sidekick is always treated as an intimidating presence. He seems to have no issue with feeding random women to the tree. As wicked as Tanga is, he's also untrustworthy among the villains. Not that I'd recommend going to fifties B-movies for sensitive politics but “The Woman Eater” is especially egregious. 

When put it aside a ridiculous threat like an killer tree, “The Woman Eater's” political incorrectness only come off as camp. George Coulouris is a perfectly despicable villain as Dr. Moran. Despite the way the script treats her, Vera Day is utterly charming. The entire movie wraps up in seventy minutes, with the bad guys punished, the monster destroyed, and moral relativity restored to the universe. In other words, this gave me exactly what I want from a forgotten B-movie about a tree monster that devours ladies. Sometimes, an easily digested – pun intended? – cheapie with a wacky monster and some sleazy sex appeal is all you need. If nothing else, it's a lot better than the vaguely similar “The Creeping Terror.” By the way, actual myths of flesh-eating trees have popped up over the years, though usually in the jungles of Africa and not South America. [7/10]

Malatesta's Carnival of Blood (1973)

Who doesn't love the carnival? It's wholesome fun for the whole family, right? The perfect place to enjoy some rides, play some games, eat some funnel cake, and get harassed, attacked, and murdered. The dangerous, otherworldly atmosphere of the circus has inspired its fair share of horror stories. The carnival has many of the same features but is sleazier by far, being more of a fly-by-night operation staffed by nomadic con men. Beneath the promise of harmless amusements, there's simply an air of depravity about the carnival, ya know? Unsurprisingly, many horror movies have sought to play off this idea. Among the stranger examples resides genuine seventies oddity, “Malatesta's Carnival of Blood.” Thought lost for years – I only became aware of the film while reading, of all things, a retrospective on the career of Hervé Villechaize – the film was unearthed for Arrow's American Horror Project, exposing it to a far wider audience than ever before.

Johnny Morris disappears while at Malatesta's Carnival, a local amusement park that has recently reopened. His parents and sister, Vena, arrive at the carnival under the pretense of looking for jobs. They meet with one of the two managers, the mysterious Mr. Blood, before parking their RV on the camp grounds. In truth, the family is there to locate their missing son. Vena sneaks out to meet up with Kit, the boy who runs the shooting range booth that she's taken a liking too. Soon, the daughter uncovers the horrible truth. This is no ordinary carnival. Malatesta and Mr. Blood are vampires. Most of their employees are cannibalistic ghouls and the bloody accident in the park are no accidents at all. They live in the tunnels under the carnival, performing bizarre rituals, with Vena soon chosen as their next sacrifice. 

“Malatesta's Carnival of Blood” is the sole credit of writer Werner Liepolt and the only narrative film made by director Christopher Speeth. Liepolt is a mystery but Speeth was well known in the Philadelphia theater scene. Supposedly, he pulled the film together to provide work for actors between seasons. One imagines that Speeth and his humble team – his brother did the special effects – chose to make a horror film because it's a profitable and cheap genre to work in. You can certainly see the vestigial outline of a traditional horror movie here. The idea of a carnival run by vampires and staffed by zombies is simple enough to understand, the kind of premise any monster kid would imagine. A family looking for their missing child is a totally normal prompt for the story too.

However, none of that prepares the viewer for the aggressively strange atmosphere “Malatesta's Carnival of Blood” engineers. One of the first things you'll notice about the film is its bizarre sets and art direction. The Tunnel of Love has walls lined with what appear to be feathers, random objects, and fleshy expanses. In the tunnels under the carnival, a Volkswagen has been hung upside down with an enormous mouth built into it. Vena is kept inside a a bubble-like structure at one point. The ghouls often gather in front of an enormous screen, showing clips from silent horror movies. Paired with these odd images is a sound design that is more surreal. Strange humming noises, overlapping dialogue, and discordant fragments of music combine to create a truly nightmarish feeling. 

From any sort of traditional perspective, “Malatesta's Carnival of Blood” probably could not be classified as a “good” movie. Its plot is directionless and vague. The dialogue is often incoherent, the characters never being anything but loose ideas. The acting is stilted. The special effects are unconvincing, the zombies often being actors simply wearing greenish face paint. Somehow, this lack of professionalism works in the film's favor. When combined with the home-made sets and creepy soundtrack, “Malatesta's Carnival of Blood” genuinely captures the feeling of a bad acid trip. The violence, crude as it is, always seems to hit with a genuine sense of sudden sadism. The roller coaster decapitation, no matter how fake it looks, feels quite uncomfortable. The camera angles are off enough that simple scenes, like the daughter running through the woods or the father exploring the tunnels, feel so strange. Side characters included a hook-handed man named Mr. Bean and little Hervé as someone named Bobo. When the characters talk about how they have many faces or arcane rules that must be obeyed, it feels like “Malatesta” has accidentally touched on a degree of cosmic horror. As if the whole movie is a transmission from another dimension. 

The actual abandoned carnival “Malatesta's” was filmed at, from the glimpses we get at it, seems to be genuinely run-down and sketchy. The ending is deeply downbeat, a sense of indifference from a cruel universe emerging. When combined with the lo-fi effects, weird acting, and a story that progresses lucidly from one set-piece to another, the result is a deeply trippy motion picture. Whether intentionally or not, it mirrors the look and feel of a nightmare better than a lot of other movies that actually aim for that goal. Supposedly, Speeth and his team saw little profit from the film and it was said to be booed off the screen by most audiences. It is difficult to imagine a rowdy, drive-in crowd appreciating the particular mood captured here. However, decades after the fact, “Malatesta's Carnival of Blood” can be enjoyed as the bizarre indie experiment it is. Put this one in the love-it-or-hate-it pile but I'm definitely among those that loved it. [8/10]

Mountaintop Motel Massacre (1983)

In 1982, when the slasher genre was nearing the apex of its oversaturation, director Jim McCullough Sr. made a little movie in Louisiana called "Mountaintop Motel." The next year, it played a few drive-ins in the American south, without receiving much attention or doing any notable business. In an alternate universe, that was probably the end of it and the film was confined to the dustbin of genre history. In reality, however, New World Pictures picked the movie up two years later. They demanded reshoots, to make it gorier, and slapped a catchier, more descriptive title on all prints. What ended up absolutely selling "Mountaintop Motel Massacre" was a new poster, featuring a mad-eyed old woman with bloody hands glowering from behind a door, and an immediately catchy tagline: "Do not disturb Evelyn. She already is." It didn't matter that the woman on the box didn't look anything like the actress in the movie or that the new title and tagline promised a far more salacious experience. That image was enough to turn "Mountaintop Motel Massacre" into a minor cult classic among eighties horror fanatics and slasher aficionados. Despite having walked by the VHS box or poster probably a hundred times, I've never made time for "Mountaintop Motel Massacre" before now. That changes on this unseasonably warm October night.... 

Elderly Evelyn has recently been discharged from a mental institute. She returns to her home in rural Louisiana, where she operates a series of outdoor cabins as a motel. Evelyn is far from healed though: She discovers her daughter attempting to contact the spirit of her late father. This drives the woman into a frenzy and she murders the girl with a sickle. Not long afterwards, a bad storm blows in and a disparate group take shelter at the motel: A hard-drinking traveling preacher, a truck driver, some newlyweds, and a sleazy guy pretending to be a record executive who has picked up two hitchhiking teenage girls. The storm seems to push Evelyn to the breaking point. Using the old tunnels under the hotel, she plants vermin in each room. When this does not satisfy the mournful spirit of her daughter ringing in her head, Evelyn picks her sickle back up and proceeds to slash through the motel guests. 

Despite being placed alongside films like "The Burning" or "The Prowler," "Mountaintop Motel Massacre" is an atypical example of the slasher subgenre. If a well-known actress had starred as Evelyn – I'm thinking Patricia Neal or Kim Hunter or somebody on that level – it would've passed as a throwback to the psycho-biddy movies of the sixties. Setting the movie during a thunderstorm in a ratty old motel, hidden out in the deep south, creates an overcast and gloomy atmosphere. That dark-and-stormy night set-up is relied on much more than bloody spectacle to provide chills. Meanwhile – like fellow late-occurring hag horror flick disguised as a slasher, "Night Warning" – much more emphasis than you'd expect is placed in the beleaguered villain's mental state. The best scenes in "Mountaintop Motel Massacre" focus on Evelyn retreating to her creepy inner sanctum, her dead daughter's bedroom that is full of dusty old dolls and creative lighting. We hear the little girl's voice in the old woman's head, prompting her to kill. Anne Chappel – mostly a stage actress who only appeared in one other film than this – gives a sad performance as Evelyn, a disturbed woman haunted by the phantoms of her mind. The scenes focused solely on Evelyn give the impression of what a version of "Friday the 13th" starring Mrs. Voorhees might have looked like. 

Despite resisting many elements of the style, "Mountaintop Motel Massacre" is still structured like a slasher flick. It sticks a bunch of characters in an isolated location and has them picked off, one by one. Despite most of the characters being grown-ups, the honeymooning couple and the creepy guy manipulating the two girls still allows for the required sex and nudity. Packing the movie with warm bodies that can be cut up is actually where "Mountaintop Motel Massacre" falters. None of the characters are developed much, beyond the bare minimum idea. Aside from crazy Evelyn, the film can't truly be said to have a protagonist. The boozing preacher seems like he might be a hero but still spends most of the runtime passes out. By frequently cutting between the different guests, before cutting them up, the script feels spread thin between the various mini-melodramas of its plot threads. Isolating the cast in their respective rooms also removes the ensemble energy that powers so many slasher films. In execution, it makes "Mountaintop Motel Massacre" feel less like it has a plot and more like a bunch of different people waiting around for something to happen to them. 

And wait around they do. The film takes its sweet time getting to the carnage. Evelyn's initial plan doesn't involve murder at all. At first, she sets a snake, some rats, and roaches loose in the different cabins. This plays on a relatable fear of staying in a sketchy motel, renters left wondering what infestations might be around. The idea that the unhinged owner can access every room whenever she wants via secret passageway is a creepy idea. However, McCullough's direction is rather flat and the film is sleepily paced, meaning few scares or tension is generated. Once the sickle murders do start, the gore is decently pulled off. Throats are slashed, heads are run-through, and a hand is cleaved. Unfortunately, the bloodshed starts so late in the runtime, after many aimless scenes of the characters screwing around (sometimes literally) in their lodgings, that it is hard to find it satisfying. The results is a motion picture that only starts to take-off shortly before it is set to end. "Mountaintop Motel Massacre" ultimately feels like a version of Tobe Hooper's "Eaten Alive," made on downers instead of coke and minus the alligator. 

One more thing: Perhaps the word had different connotations in the early eighties. However, I think of a "motel" as a series of interconnecting rooms near a freeway or road, for sleepy motorists to stop in. The run-down cabins of this film, tucked deep within the hills of Louisiana, feel more like an extremely underwhelming campground or resort. I also find the size of the "mountaintop" in question to be inappropriately mountainous. Anyway, New World Pictures definitely had the right idea when they added an edgier word to "Mountaintop Motel Massacre"s" title and threw together that sleazy box art. It's doubtful anyone would remember the movie without the catchy title and catchier advertising campaign. An attempt to fuse a moody psycho-thriller with a body count flick isn't a bad idea but this one can't pull off either idea in a satisfactory manner. It's a bummer that the period when random one-off slasher flicks were getting remade has passed. This one could do with a second stab at it, as long as they kept the tagline the same. [5/10]

Late Night with the Devil (2023)

The conceit of the found footage style is that this is actual recordings someone has stumbled upon, hence the name. The idea, of discovering something forbidden in an unexpected place, has mutated and permeated over the years. The subgenre has always had links to the mockumentary style, which similarly plays with layers of reality and fiction. This has crossbred with the found footage premise to produce a spat of what I'll call "cursed broadcast" movies: Mundane television programs that suddenly get horrific. Obviously, Orson Welles' "War of the Worlds" broadcast is the grandfather of this premise and inspired direct successors over the years, such as "Special Bulletin" and "Without Warning." None of the attempts to recreate this idea has been more influential than "Ghostwatch." In our modern age, when archiving old television programs and uploading them to the Internet or searching out "lost media" has become a passion for many, the idea of finding some footage of a cursed broadcast has taken root in the genre. Probably inspired by Chris LaMartina's "WNUF Halloween Special," this year brought the most high profile take on the idea in years. "Late Night with the Devil" became IFC/Shudder's highest grossing release earlier this year but I knew, given my affection for this style and it's October 31st setting, I wanted to save it for the final film of this year's Halloween Horrorfest Blog-a-Thon. 

In the seventies, one of the many attempts to dethrone Johnny Carson as the king of late night was Jack Delroy. His show, "Night Owls," would be successful in the latter half of the decade. However, following the death of his beloved wife Madeline, Jack would step away from the show for a while. Upon returning, producers would attempt to boost the program's falling ratings with a series of outrageous stunts. This reached its climax with a 1977 Halloween show. Delroy invited on the show medium Christou, debunker Carmichael Haig, and parapsychologist June Ross-Mitchell with her latest subject, Lily. The only survivor of a mass suicide by a Satanic cult, Lily is supposedly possessed by the demon Abraxas. As the broadcast went on, more strange things would happen, driving Delroy into a personal hell. 

On one hand, "Late Night with the Devil" is a meticulous recreation of a late-night talk show from the seventies. It has convincing sets and costumes, matching the look and feel of the time. Jack Delroy reflects the avuncular presence of the many attempts to imitate Carson, especially in his banter with his sidekick, Gus McConnell. The film also does a decent job of copying the look and feel of such a program, with the proper amount of film grain, awkward camera movements, and overly long bits. This is probably because "Late Night with the Devil" draws direct inspiration from a number of real events. The main inspiration for the movie was stage magician turned skeptical inquirer James Randi appearing on Australian talk show, "The Don Lane Show," which ended with Lane becoming irate with the guest. Carmichael Haig is clearly based on Randi, copying his facial hair, his rivalry with spoon bender Uri Gellar, and his offer of a cash prize to anyone who can definitively prove the existence of the supernatural. The movie draws inspiration from other true events too. Jack is a member of a Bohemian Grove style gentleman's retreat, which also features spooky, quasi-occult rituals involving an owl idol. "Lily," and the book written about her, are obviously based on "Michelle Remembers," the fraudulent biography that kicked off the Satanic ritual abuse hysteria of the eighties. The cult that birthed her has clear tones of Anton LeVay's Church of Satan while the police stand-off ending in fiery death is taken from the Branch Davidians. In other words, "Late Night with the Devil" pulls from a number of notorious figures and moments in pop history to add verisimilitude. 

All of that stuff is extremely my kind of shit. (Though, as a fellow skeptic, I object to the characterization of the Randi stand-in as a pretentious glory chaser.) If "Late Night with the Devil" had devoted its entire runtime to a presentation of a mythical infamous moment in TV history, it would probably stand along side "Ghostwatch," "WNUF," and "Antrum" as a compelling meta narrative. Instead, directors the Cairness brothers repeatedly break immersion. The film opens with a lengthy documentary-like segment, establishing the backstory of "Night Owls with Jack Delroy." Which I think sets some events up too far in advance but is an understandable addition. More frustrating, however, is the repeated choice to cut away from the live broadcast to black-and-white behind-the-scenes segments, that show us what happened while the cameras were off that night. In other words: The film repeatedly abandons its own conceit. Worst yet, these scenes don't give us any information that wouldn't be better left implied anyway. Jack's involvement with the Grove, his infidelity, and the off-screen death of another guest would all be more shocking if revealed later in the film. The biggest sign of "Late Night with the Devil's" half-assed commitment to its own premise is the much criticized use of AI-generated images for the show's bumpers. This is immediately noticeable, as the images do not match the seventies setting and feature all the tell-tale signs of being made by a fucking robot. Obviously, there's no excuse for the inclusion of anti-human, plagiarized bullshit like that in this film. It puts a stain on the entirety of "Late Night with the Devil." 

This is a shame because, otherwise, I did find a lot to enjoy here. The entire appeal of films like this is the sinister and otherworldly interceding on the utterly mundane. There's certainly plenty of examples of live broadcast being interrupted by the tragic or unexpected. The first half of "Late Night with the Devil" is its best, when it balances a realistic recreation of a seventies late night show with darker elements. Such as a strangely unmoving guests in a skeleton costume or Christou going into a seizure during a psychic episode. The film probably pushes it too far during late, more special effects driven moments. Such as the medium vomiting a torrent of black sludge into the camera, the first attempt to contact the demon in Lily, or a hypnosis sequence featuring some very nasty worms. "Ghostwatch" and "WNUF Halloween Special" knew to keep this stuff mostly off-screen, to further the sense that you are watching a normal broadcast gone horribly wrong and not, ya know, a horror movie. These scenes are well done though, especially that bit with the worms. What should have been the film's climax, Abraxas truly making himself known, similarly pushes the visual effects and chaos too far while also being rather nicely pulled off. 

That's not the ending though. You can clearly see a struggle within "Late Night with the Devil" to extend what should've been a regular hour of TV into a feature length movie. (Though "The Tonight Show" often ran for upwards of nineties minutes, so that feels like a copout too.) All throughout, as the film frustratingly abandons its own set-up before swerving back, I wonder what the whole point of this was. "Ghostwatch" is about bringing classical English folklore into the then-modern day while implicitly criticizing the media's need to explore, watch, and exploit everything. "WNUF Halloween Special" and its sequel invoke and subvert nostalgia for discarded pop culture while revealing that the power of human belief is much more dangerous than the myths themselves. "Late Night with the Devil's" indecisiveness prevents it from making a deeper point. The final sequence – which also drops the lost broadcast gimmick – does something interesting though. This is Jack Delroy's story. It is a classical Faustian bargain playing out within the entertainment industry, of sacrificing your soul for fame and success. That is why even the James Randi stand-in is a phony. Everyone in TV is merely hungry for fame and power. David Dastmalchian plays Delroy as a sad, anxious man who is barely holding onto his public persona while his inner demons take hold and he makes the final scenes, of the devil coming to collect what is owed to him, better than they would be otherwise. I don't think a story of how showbiz destroys minds and reaps souls is as compelling an idea as using the medium itself to criticize the messages it propagates. It exposes "Late Night with the Devil" as a bit of a fraud itself, as this story could have been told as a traditional narrative without the catchy gimmick. But at least it's an idea, a sign that this is more than a mere technical exercise and a compilation of decades-old bits of moral panics and TV detritus. 

Ultimately, "Late Night with the Devil" left me very conflicted. Technically, it is well done. The special effects are slimy and gross. Colin and Cameron Cairness are clearly talented at engineering effective shock scenes. The cast is strong, especially Dastmalchian and Ingrid Torelli, who is extremely creepy as the possessed girl. In many ways, this movie is exactly the kind of thing I should love. However, the film's disappointing need to constantly undermine its own strengths makes it a much more frustrating watch. Not to mention the AI bullshit, which is simply inexcusable. (Also, its unwillingness to acknowledge the much more complicated Gnostic origins of Abraxas, which is treated as simply another scary demon. But I'm pretty used to screenwriters doing stuff like that...) In other words, "Late Night with the Devil" could have been a much better movie if not for a few baffling decisions the creative team made. It is stuffed full of Halloween ambiance though and, obviously, a good choice to watch in the middle of the night, despite falling short of giving me the kind of high previous, superior attempts at this kind of thing gave me. [6/10]

The other day, I was in a Target. Despite Halloween itself being neigh, the department store was already all decked out for Christmas. I know I should be used to this by now but seeing the fake evergreens and Santa suits overtake the Jack-o'-lanterns and skeletons bummed me out. When you think about Halloween all year round, and actively celebrate it for two months, what should be the climax of the season instead feels like the dispiriting end of something nice. I sure do like it when everything is decked out in orange and black, bats and ghouls looking at me from every angle. Feels nice, ya know? Seeing that tapper to a close, swallowed up by all that holly-jollyness, is a bummer.

However, it is important to remember something: Halloween doesn't come from a store. Halloween means a little bit more. While standing on a friend's lawn, pretending to be an automaton, and successfully frightening some small children, I remembered that. I can wax philosophically about what this season means to me for pages on end. Somehow, I've made it to this stage in my life without loosing the child-like wonder this time of year invokes in me. As always, thank you, Halloween. Thank you for reminding me that the flesh decays, the leaves turn brown and fall to the ground, and our spirits shuffle off this mortal coil but that some ideas are forever. Being scared, thrilled, or gross out reminds you that are alive. That this life is yours and should be invested with glee as much as possible. That, in spite of the inevitable end of all things, joy and love can be found everywhere. Thank you, Halloween. 

Alright, enough sentimentality. I watched 127 feature films, 101 TV episodes, and 19 shorts over the course of two months. In other words: I did it. I lived the Halloween season to the fullest. Let us face down November 1st with a lifted spirit and a clean conscience. Hey, witches and black cats and candy corn and 12 Foot Tall Skeletons: It's not goodbye forever, it's goodbye for now. Let us slip into our coffins full of earth and sleep for another year, to reawaken next autumn as sure as the changing of the seasons and the rising of the sun.