Halloween 2026: September 2nd

 

The Wailing (2016)
Gokseong

Religion is kind of a worldwide phenomena, ya know? I think it's human nature to assign events to the actions of a higher power or otherworldly forces. We also tend to think of faith as following international borders. Those who write history have worked very hard to paint the Americas and the Anglo corners of the world as the Christian nations, middle Asian countries as Islamic, India as Hindu, and so forth. The East Asian parts of the world, from an ignorant American perspective, seem mostly characterized as a mix of Buddhist, Shinto, and ill-defined local mysticism. This is not accurate, of course. In South Korea, for example, 20% of the population identify as Protestant and 11% as Catholic. While Christianity has a decent sized congregation in the country, local shamanic beliefs are also commonly practiced, sometimes hand-in-hand. This interesting spiritual breakdown is reflected in Na Hong-jin's 2016 film, "The Wailing." Critically acclaimed, the film is what largely brought Na's name to Western fans' attention.

Jong-goo is a policeman in the South Korean village of Gokseong, a small community surrounded by mountains and forest. He is sent to investigate an unusually grisly murder, a man covered in strange boils and scars having brutally dismembered his wife. This is the first of a number of reported violent crimes in the area, often of someone murdering the other members of their family. Many of these incidents seem to link back to the appearance of a Japanese stranger in the village. Jong-goo begins to have nightmares about this unusual man. Shortly afterwards, his daughter Hyo-jin begins to exhibit increasingly strange, violent, and vulgar behavior. Jong-goo is convinced the stranger has possessed his daughter and is prompted to seek out a traditional shaman to exorcise the spirit. While this has some effect at first, the curse falling over Jong-goo and his family can not be so easily defeated. 

I'm pulling from a comparatively small sample size here and also making the same mistake I chastise others for in my opening paragraph, of grouping all Asian cultures together mindlessly. Having said that: A curse that easily passes from person to person seems to crop up in horror movies from that corner of the world sometimes. That's kind of how the mechanics of the haunting in “Ringu” operate. A more recent example would be “The Sadness” from Taiwan, where a literal virus prompts people to indulge their most depraved, violent impulses. In “The Wailing,” evil is similarly a communicable virus. It seemingly begins with the Japanese man coming into the village. He is said to commit sexual assaults, crawl around the forest in his underwear, or eat rotten meat. If this is patient zero for a corrupting otherworldly force is hard to say but, either way, it's spreading through this village. We see individuals in a zombie-like trance, rotting and covered in sores. Meanwhile, in the case of Jong-goo's daughter, the curse acts more like a traditional possession. Whatever the symptoms, this is a demonic outbreak that works very much like a pandemic. If one person in town has caught it, odds are good someone else has it too. 

This is a cool set-up for a fright film, seemingly mixing the familiar tropes of the zombie movie with a degree of demonic horror. However, it's only the jumping-off point for the themes “The Wailing” explores over its two and a half hour runtime. The film operates a lot like a detective mystery, with Jong-hoo attempting to track down the person responsible for these events. It's clear that he is caught in a chain reaction whose trigger event happened some time ago. This is evident in a well done sequence where the shaman performs an elaborate ritual, with a lot of dancing and physical movement, to cast the spirit out. This mostly results in Hyo-jin screaming in pain as her body contorts. As the story progresses, characters learn conflicting information about who is the source of these events and what to do about them. A Catholic priest concludes that the Japanese stranger – a cultural outsider who may be a mere scapegoat? - is a demon. The shaman believes a ghost is responsible. The media blames the consumption of psychedelic mushroom. Ultimately, it doesn't matter to Jong-goo because his daughter is still sick, isn't getting any better, and his home seems careening towards disaster. If all religion is merely an attempt to put a system of cause-and-effect on a universe that is merely random chaos, “The Wailing” is a good depiction of that. Its protagonist is the middle of the falling dominoes, with no chance of stopping the collapse even if he can trace things back to a source. 

A key moment occurs when Jong-hoo and his partner are investigating the home of the supposed demonic individual. Someone points out that a key object was casually picked up, contaminating the forensics and ruining any chance of it becoming evidence in the court of law. When compared to an earlier scene of Jong-hoo cowering from a ghostly image in the police station, the conclusion is difficult to avoid: This guy isn't a very good cop. As he grows more desperate, he uses violence and intimidating frequently to get what he wants. When combined with the dysfunction in his home life, another theme seems to emerge. The family calls on the shaman, under the belief that he knows what to do. He is revealed to be as clueless as anyone else. Doctors can't stop the spread. The Catholic priest is confused too. There is a systematic failure of authority in “The Wailing,” men who are stupid or irresponsible or corrupt or selfish being assigned power they cannot be trusted to wield. This outbreak of demonic influence is their fault and trusting them to stop it seems like a doomed effort. It feels a lot like, oh, every government in the world ever. How can we expect a system that caused these problems to then resolve them? 

Tying these ideas together is Na Hong-Jin's mastery of ambiance and ability to deliver a good shock. The scenic locations, beautifully captured by Hong Kyung-pyo's cinematography, only make the cast seem more isolated and alone as things get worst. Several sequences in “The Wailing” begin with seemingly normal circumstances being disrupted by unusual events that grow more disturbing. A lightning crash and black-out precedes the appearance of a shadowy spectre. A visit to the woods is disrupted by the strange man appearing, who crawls closer and closer. A nose bleed escalates to a torrent of vomit. A frantic drive down a freeway is disturbed by a swarm of bugs pelting the windshield. The movie does a fantastic job of staring at events as they grow more ominous, looking evil right in the face as it plays out in front of us. The result is the viewer feels as trapped with these unsettling revelations as the characters do. These aren't mere jump scares, that jolt the audience and then fade as the adrenaline dies down. These are sturdier chills, nightmare imagery that sticks in the mind and becomes harder to forget.

 

Good shit, in other words. Na Hong-Jing doesn't seem to have attracted the reputation as a lot of other South Korean horror filmmakers. His previous films, “The Chaser” and “The Yellow Sea,” got strong reviews. His follow-up to this one, “Hope,” got scooped up by Netflix and dropped on their streaming service with little promotion, as Netflix is prone to do. I'm definitely going to have to go back and check those out though. (Na also penned a film for Thai filmmaker Banjong Pisanthanakun that started life as a sequel to this one before turning into a stand-alone project. I'm considering making that my stop in Thailand on this year's world tour.)“The Wailing” is a potent dose of dread, featuring strong performances and heady ideas in service of fantastically directed scenes of horror. [8/10]

 

House of the Black Death (1965)
 

In the various circles of schlock movie perdition, Jerry Warren surely resides somewhere on the lower tiers. Ed Wood's surreal dialogue and irrepressible fetishes made his films cult classics. Andy Milligan's deeply felt misanthropy transformed Z-movies into windows to his personal hell. Coleman Francis created stifling works of highly quotable anti-art. I've never seen a single person who express anything but ironic enjoyment of Jerry Warren's work. His films, usually composed of thoughtlessly cut apart and reassembled international movies with utterly lifeless new footage providing the thinnest of connective tissue, have little camp factor and few merits of their own. So how bad does a movie have to be when Jerry Warren is called in to save it? Lora Crozetti, an early female writer in the world of sci-fi fandom, wrote a book called “The Widderburn Horror.” In 1965, director Harold Daniels attempted to adapt it into a movie. Reginald LeBorg apparently also shot some footage of people wandering around the woods. The producers deemed the project incomplete and brought in Warren to shoot additional material and cut it together into something releasable. Whether he succeeded is debatable. However, the film, now entitled “Blood of the Man Devil” and eventually re-titled again to “House of the Black Death,” did play in theaters before paying audiences. Which is something, I guess. 

The Desard family's legacy is one of witchcraft, devil worship, black magic, and arcane curses. At the family's foggy estate resides the bed-bound Andre, the eldest member who is deeply protective of the Desard's dark secrets. His brother, Belial, works with a coven of loyal followers to undermine Andre and claim the family's powers for his own. Andre's children, Paul and Valerie, arrive at the home to discuss these terms. Belial's followers kill their dog and go about attempting to activate a much discussed curse, that will turn Paul into a werewolf. Paul, his sister, a skeptical doctor, and dear old dad talk about ancient spells and tomes. Meanwhile, the literally horny Belial has his followers perform striptease outside the house as part of dark rituals, I guess.

“House of the Black Death” qualifies as a motion picture only on a technicality. It begins with a montage of the main players, their names and roles in the story being introduced by an off-screen Satanic voice. If that seems didactic, it's practically dynamic compared to how the rest of the movie plays out. Most of the film's thankfully short 74 minute runtime is devoted to people standing around within the undistinguished rooms of the family home. They ramble on about the family's demonic heritage and history of lycanthropy, often repeating the same points again and again. The visibly bored actors are usually in the center of the frame, footage cutting back and forth with the subtly of a power saw, as they talk about this incomprehensible bullshit. The word “coven” is repeatedly pronounced in such a manner as not to rhyme with oven, man. It is lifeless, feeling like stilted amateur theater unwisely committed to celluloid for all time. 

Considering his pedigree, I would expect these endless scenes of inane dialogue to be Mr. Warren's work. The exact breakdown of who shot what seems lost to the ages. We do know that Warren brought in his regular Katherine Victor, who appears in scenes of the cult bickering among itself. Otherwise, we can only speculate. The multiple scenes of female Satanists gyrating around in their lingerie before a demonic alter represents exploitation film making at its most desperate, throwing half-naked bodies on-screen in hopes of diverting audience attention for a second longer. Sure, the girls are attractive. Among them is legendarily proportioned British pin-up girl Sabrina, in her final film credit. Their dance routines are recorded without a sense of eroticism or basic energy. It's like “Orgy of the Dead” with all the fun parts cut out. Much like that particular piece of cheese, “House of the Black Death” links its tedious conversations and titillation-free lap dances with hokey horror movie atmosphere. There's a stone altar shaped like a saddle, the topic of several conversations. A rusty gate, a cardboard tombstone, a blanket of fog over the floor. Even someone with as much affection for elementary school Halloween party set-dressing as myself can only find so much here to be charmed by. The scene where someone finally turns into a werewolf – a split-second shot of foam gurgling through a gorilla mask – and Lon Chaney transforming into a paper skull instantly made me chuckle a little. But that's it.

I watched “House of the Black Death” because of its over-the-hill stars. As always, John Carradine and Lon Chaney Jr. are professionals. Carradine never blinks or stutters when reading reams of droll exposition. He is one of the few actors in the film that actually do anything meaningful, called upon to perform a mostly off-screen fiery incantation at the end. It's impossible to care about any of it and I doubt Carradine did either. However, he does his best. Chaney was well into the drinking-himself-to-death portion of his career. He hams gratuitously for the camera, smiling wickedly and staring with evil lust at the various girls on display. The little horns on his head are kind of cute. These are, to say the least, the most modest of pleasures. The two horror legends never directly interact. You'll have to watch “The Black Sleep” for that, a movie that's also quite lame but is still considerably better than this one. 

I genuinely do try and find the best in every movie I watch. I've sat through some dire stuff simply because an old monster movie guy was propped up through a scene or two. I've seen films that tested my patience more than “House of the Black Death,” I suppose. However, it is an hour and change stunningly devoid of value. Many pieces of interesting cinema have been dismissed because “nothing happens” within them. This is a genuine description of “House of the Black Death.” It “moves,” and therefore is a movie, only because live humans were recorded for it. If you swapped them out, even the esteemed Mr. Carradine and Chaney, with motionless cut-outs, the film would be fundamentally unchanged. I feel no hatred towards it, only indifference, perhaps the most damnable sin of all. [2/10]

 

Wednesday: Wednesday's Child is Full of Woe

The idea of Tim Burton being involved with some new version of “The Addams Family” is, to generalize, hack shit. To quote a sort of wise man, it's too obvious, a hat on a hat. This is so true that Burton had already been attached to a reboot of the property years before. However, the most obvious programming possible is what Netflix specializes in. This is presumably why the new series would revolve around Wednesday Addams. The upbeat, cheery little girl of the sixties sitcom has now been utterly eclipsed in pop culture by Christina Ricci's interpretation of her as an extremely sardonic, glaring, sadistic goth girl. Wednesday now exists more as a Halloween costume, the phenotype upon which a hundred OnlyFans providers have built their brand on, than as a character. Again, this made a show about her having adventures the most obvious choice. Nevertheless, none of this prevented Netflix's “Wednesday” from becoming a pop culture phenomena back in 2022, turning Jenna Ortega into a cult icon overnight. After watching the original “Addams Family” series over the last two years, I've decided to give this iteration a shot. 

And so I must grapple with the most ChatGPT-coded angle on “The Addams Family” you could imagine. In “Wednesday,” Gomez and Morticia's daughter has psychic powers. She has grim premonitions of the past and future upon touching someone, like she's in “The Dead Zone” or some shit. After filling her high school's swimming pool with piranhas to avenge Pugsley getting bullied, Wednesday is shifted off to Nevermore Academy. This is a private boarding school for monsters and freaks, which is where Gomez and Morticia met each other as teens. Meaning this premise is also “Harry Potter,” right down to the student body being sorted into four different groups. Wednesday's class mates include werewolves, sirens, gorgons, a telekinetic descendant of a witch hunter, and actual actual actual vampires. Having the Addamses exist along side literal monsters kind of defeats the purpose of them being the kookiest, spookiest family in town, does it not? Dropping Wednesday into Monster High is the definition of redundant. 

Again, the writers and producers of “Wednesday” were not inclined to resist the most obvious choices. This means that Wednesday's room mate is a perky and upbeat modern teenager, addicted to social media and prone to brightly colored accessories. This at least leads to the first episode's funniest moment, when Wednesday literally divides their room up. Another obvious writing choice here is to have Wednesday come into conflict with the local normies, which include the suspicious town sheriff. I was fine with this idea in the abstract until she started kung-fu fightin' some bullies. One of two way over-choreographed fight scenes here. I am less okay with the other choices here. The entire point of the Addams family is that they love and adore each other despite their outwardly morbid appearance. Here, Wednesday has teenage angst with her parents. She believes Gomez and Morticia are trying to turn her into a perfect copy of them and resents them for it. How trite. (Wednesday is also woke now, something I don't object on its face so much as it's difficult for me to imagine the Addams having an opinion on any modern political divides.)

I am trying my best to give this show a fair shot but, unfortunately, I can already see all the tendencies of streaming television that I despise at work. A dozen potential subplots, that can bounce back and forth over the next seven hours, are set up here. Despite her repeated insistence that she is not interested in such things, the first episode laboriously sets up multiple love interests for Wednesday. There's the straight-laced guy who works at the coffee shop, the handsome classmate with some connection to her, the skinny dweeb in the fencing class. Several rivals to lovers paths. There's implications about a dark family secret, connected to her parents' school days. Clearly, Wednesday's principal and court-mandated therapist are Up to Something. At least two potential villains with a grudge appear. There's a mystery to resolve too, a brutish beast with bulging Burton eyes introduced shortly before the credits roll. Such standard serialized drama elements is a rough fit for the farcical style of the Addams Family. How are characters such as these meant to function in a world where things like murder have actual legal consequences? 

The worst part of it all is the cast seems well chosen. At first, Jenna Ortega is doing a fairly straight impression of Ricci's work in the Sonnenfeld's films. However, as the hour goes on, she proves adapt with the kind of corny, morbid one-liners that made the original sitcom so much fun. Ricci herself is here, as is Riki Lindholm, and both seem like they fit in. While the verdict is still out on whether I agree with their characterization, I also like Luis Guzman and Catherine Zeta-Jones as Gomez and Morticia. At least their devotion to each other and their family is intact. Shifting the focus from the familial unit to one member being in a strange location changes the key interaction, in such a way that I find rather boring. In general, I found “Wednesday's Child is Full of Woe” quite boring. I'm going to try and stick it out for at least the first season but if the rest of the show is this bland, I'm going to skip season two. [4/10]

 

NBC Matinee Theater: The Fall of the House of Usher

I don't pay for regular television anymore and I know I'm not alone in that regard. From what I've gathered from sitting in waiting rooms, daytime television is now dominated mostly by chat programs, game shows, and endless reruns. Things have changed a lot since the mid-fifties, when NBC deemed daytime audiences so valuable a demographic that they invested in a pricey, daily anthology series, filmed in color and broadcast live. That would be “NBC Matinee Theater,” which run for 650 episodes over the course of three years, a number that seems improbable today.  The series has faded utterly into obscurity in the years since but a handful of notable episodes still float around online. Like a lot of early anthology programs, “Matinee Theater” often drew from classy literary sources for material. This usually precluded anything spooky or macabre but the series delved into the accepted canon of respectable horror stories from time to time. One example is a version of “The Fall of the House of Usher” that aired in August of 1956. 

Adapter Robert Esson and director Boris Sagel maintain the broad strokes of Poe's story. The protagonist, named David here, arrives at the crumbling family estate of his old school mate, Roderick Usher. Roderick is gripped by a powerful melancholy and a malady that makes him sensitive to all sights and sounds. He attributes this to a family curse that has driven every Usher before him mad. His sister, Madeline, is also quite ill and dies while David is visiting. You probably know what happens next. This “House of Usher” underplays the isolation of the story by adding more characters: A faithful family housekeeper, a doctor called in to tend to the sick Madeline, and a police constable. It also ventures outside the titular location into the near-by town for a scene, which I think tellings of this tale probably should not do. 

While the producers of “Matinee Theater” sought to save money where they could by utilizing small cast and limited staging, the best thing about this “Fall” is its set. We never see the exterior of the home in full. Only a creaky gate, a sign bearing the family name swinging ominously in the wind. Roderick's room has an overflowing book shelf, an ornate throne, a window waiting to be dramatically thrown open. The family tomb, a pivotal location in any version of this story, has the neat detail of a wall of caskets. The shot of Roderick and David descending into this inner most chamber, lit by candlelight, is a good one. The reading of “The Haunted Palace” also ranks among the episode's better moments. It's not much but I think the producers did an okay job of summoning some gothic ambiance with the set dressing that was afforded to them. 

Otherwise, the tone of this take on “Hosue of Usher” veers more towards the hokey and melodramatic. Tom Tryon, best known to me from “I Married a Monster from Outer Space,” plays Usher at maximum staginess, bellowing his cries of misery and putting all his feelings into the character's descriptions of his mental agony. Marshall Thompson as the protagonist is so straight-laced and blandly heroic as to appear out-of-place in this tale. Probably owing to its TV-bound roots, the darker suggestions within Poe's text are downplayed. Madeline is introduced clawing at the walls of her room, making the family madness as broad as possible, and all the subtext of incest and depravity is gone. The image of Madeline's arm rising from her newly interned sarcophagus reminded me too much of Disney World's Haunted Mansion. And then the episode revisits that visual about three more times. It comes across as fairly defanged and hammy. Considering there's a dozen other adaptations of this story out there, the “Matinee Theater” version counts as inessential. The show did most of the public domain horror standard greatest hits (plus an occasional deeper cut, like The Queen of Spades or The Bottle Imp) and one imagines they are of a similar pedigree as this: Serviceable but a bit weak sauce. [5/10]

 

CHUCK'S ROUNDHOUSE: Bells of Innocence (2003)

The 1960s saw evangelical fundamentalists, Biblical literalists who rejected modern science and changing social ideology, grow more influential within American Protestant congregations. Their tenets include the spreading of the gospel, the conversion of non-believers, that every good thing that happens to you is an act of God, the end times are upon us, that Satan and his demons are active in the world, and the adoration of Christ and Him alone. This necessitated the creation of a Christian media, in opposition to a secular – and therefore sinful – media. What we now call the "faith-based" film industry began to take shape at the start of the seventies. While apocalyptic oddities like "If Footmen Tire, What Will Horses Do?" and "A Thief in the Night" soon emerged, this style of filmmaking has mostly been defined by banalities like "The Cross and the Switchblade." 

 

The modern Christian movie functions a lot like fetish pornography. It exists to serve its intended audience what they want to see and are already familiar with, at the sacrifice of complex narratives, quality acting, and realistic dialogue. (Also the budgets are usually comparable.) A year before "The Passion of the Christ" gave cinematic proselytizing its biggest moment, a much less notable Christian film was released straight-to-video for the intended audience of church goers, youth pastors, and blind grandmothers. "Bells of Innocence" would be of little notoriety for anyone outside this demographic if it wasn't for its top-billed actor. Chuck Norris became "born again" sometime in the mid-nineties. He began incorporating conservative Christian hysterics into "Walker" shortly after this, so it's not surprising he ended up in one of these. The film also starred his son Mike, his granddaughter Gabby, and frequent "Walker" guest star Marshall R. Teague, so I guess it was a family affair. 

The film follows the improbably named Jux Jonas, a man whose young daughter died after being hit by a car. That loss shattered his faith in God and now he's a suicidal alcoholic. Despite that, his devout friends Conrad and Oren talk him into flying them into Mexico, where they will distribute Bibles at a small ministry. Their plane breaks down in the middle of the Texas desert and they wander into a town called Ceres. The locals seem totally unaware and cut off from the outside world, react strangely to visitors, avoid all physical touching, and bare distinctive marks on their arms. Only a solitary rancher named Matthew offers any assistance. Jux meets Lyric, a little girl that reminds him of his lost daughter, and she beckons him to stay. That's because Ceres is actually run by demonically possessed humans, town elder Joshua being a literal minion of Satan. A war between good and evil has been playing out there for decades. Now, the fate of Jux's immortal soul is the latest battle in this conflict. 

I am, usually, a fan of films made outside of the Hollywood system. I have, from time to time, praised movies made by largely unprofessional crews that lack the polished attributes of your bigger budgeted productions. I admire the can-do spirit of artists with more of a dream than experience or money, pursuing it anyway. Any resulting jank usually becomes part of the charm of such a motion picture and the best of these can reach the level of stupefying outsider art. I suppose this same attitude could be applied to movies like "Bells of Innocence." Cinematographer Hamid Shams was a camera assistant on "Evil Dead II" and "Death Wish 3" and done some lo-fi TV stuff, so he wasn't exactly an amateur. Nevertheless, "Bells of Innocence" has a flat, colorless visual style that, on several occasions, lapses into shaky handheld work. A chase scene has the camera flipping back and forth, for one example of this awkwardness. This is emphasized by blunt editing, the cuts between scenes being so abrupt as to often become unintentionally funny. This is apparent from the very first scene, a mostly unconnected sequence of people running in the dark from some villains on horseback and running into Native Americans doing a ritual of some sort, that is incoherently assembled. (There's a smattering of indigenous characters in the film, so the Norris family hasn't totally let go of that fixation yet.) Director Alin Bijan, his second feature after an un-faith based 1995 skin flick, does not distinguish himself. 

More than any other technical deficiency, two factors make "Bells of Innocence" an especially difficult watch. The acting is quite poor, distressingly so. Mike Norris is a wooden actor who does not have the screen presence of his father. His delivery of dialogue is awkward and unconvincing. His attempts at bigger emotions feel stilted and forced. This is largely true of the rest of the cast. Carey Scott gives a very annoying performance as Oren, acting in a childish, mawkish fashion that honestly makes the character seem unaware of certain social cues. His reoccurring trait of telling a joke he never gets to finish, because people start randomly laughing before he gets to the punchline, is a very questionable choice. David A.R. White as Conrad always feels like he is reading a prepared speech from the pulpit, trying to invest it with deeper emotions he cannot summon, than someone acting out a character. This is true of most of the acting in "Bells of Innocence" and partially what marks it as an unprofessional, church basement production. You know something has gone very wrong when Chuck Norris gives the best, most relaxed and natural performance in your motion picture. 

This points towards the biggest problem with "Bells of Innocence" and the majority of so-called "faith-based" film making. This is not so much a movie as it is a sermon. The narrative is not told with the intention of invoking certain feelings or ideas in the viewer. The goal is not fleshing out characters, experiences, themes or moods. Instead, it's preaching, telling you exactly what it means and what you should think about these events, with no room for ambiguity or personal interpretation. The message relayed in "Bells of Innocence" is that the devil is real and apocalyptic war with the forces of evil is inevitable, Luckily, all you have to do to be on the winning side is accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and savior, no matter what bad things happen to you. Jux's grief upon his daughter's senseless death would seem to present one of the most complicated aspects of faith: How can you believe in an all-good and all-loving God if life just constantly grinds you down and takes away the people you love? Rather than address this idea, such events are presented as temptations by Satan and his minions. Jux's faith is turned like a light switch, from Questioning God's Plan to Jesus Loves All the Little Children, during the key points in the film. The subtext, that it is God's will that people die and lives get ruined, is never addressed simply because he chooses God over the Devil. Why? Ostensibly because his experience in Ceres has proven to him that Jesus is the way but, in execution, it looks more like he simply changes his mind. To evangelicals, is faith just God saying "Trust me, bro, it'll all make sense" and taking him at his word? It is an attempted persuasion without nuance. 

Moreover, "Bells of Innocence" delivers this idea in as didactic a fashion as possible. Before the trio arrives in town, we get several scenes of the town's sinister elders discussing what is to happen. When the gang takes shelter in Chuck Norris' cabin, he flatly explains that he is an angel, the history of the town, and what this all forebodes. The heroes outright proclaim their faith in God, against the demonic villains' statements. With such a hamfisted approach, it is unsurprising that the film has no grasp on the subtleties necessary to create an effective horror movie. The film seems to think having someone's eyes glow red and a red skull appear over their faces is the height of terror, alongside other thoroughly unimpressive CGI effects. The script is generally inconsistent, how much the people in the town can or cannot touch an outsider seeming inconsistent, and is totally unable to build up any tension at all. After all, we know that God is Good and Jux's soul will be safe, so there's not much in the way of suspense. 

It should probably be unsurprising that "Bells of Innocence" also does not feature much in the way of the Chuck Norris action you might be hoping for. The most exciting thing he does is talk down a crowd of demonic meanies, projecting a bolt of light from his finger and making a guy groan and grimace. This is, admittedly, one of the fewer moments that made me laugh here. Otherwise, he shows up in a few scenes, hangs out with the protagonists, and drones out some exposition. I went into "Bells of Innocence" hoping it would make me chuckle more often but it is mostly a tedious affair. The first act is extremely slow, as the film takes far too long to get all its characters in place, has them wait around for a while, before the plot finally begins to move. The film seems to reach its climax before chugging forward to a proper ending, the story heading into the credits with little drive or energy. While I'm sure some films made within the Sunday School approved method feature better acting, sturdier writing, and zippier pacing than this motion picture, my impression of the genre is that it's mostly stuff like this: Preachy and limp and boring, with one or two actors who were once semi-relevant but got saved and are now doing shit like this. I like my Chuck Norris movies with more punching and kicking than preaching. [3/10]

[THE CHUCK OF NORRIS: 2 outta 5]
[X] Facial Hair
[] Jumps or Kicks Through a Window or Wall
[] Performs Spin Kick or Spin Punch to Enemy's Face
[] Shows Off His Hairy Chest
[X] Sports Some Cowboy Getup

Halloween 2025: October 15th

 

Clearcut (1991)
 

Two years after Canada became an independent nation, the chief of the Kanesatake Mohawk nation led a small armed group against the Catholic seminary that had claimed nine square miles of land promised to indigenous people for themselves. The rebellion was crushed by local authorities. In 1936, the land was sold against the Mohawk's wishes. In 1956, a golf course was built on the land, right next to an ancient site of burial mounds. In 1989, plans were made to expand the golf course and clear the contested wooded area. Mohawk protesters built a barricade to block access to the land. Early in the morning on July 11th, police deployed tear gas and concussion grenades against the protestors. This was the first of several violent interactions and stand-offs between protestors and police, that lasted for 75 days and ended with heavily armed military forces being sent in. By the time what became known as the Oka Crisis was over, two people were dead and a little girl had been stabbed with a bayonet. Around the same time in Ontario, a project with some startlingly similar themes was being filmed. Upon release in 1991, “Clearcut” would receive little attention. After many years in obscurity, the film was recently released in a collection of folk horror films, beginning the recognition of this overlooked motion picture and what is, I think, of it acquiring the reputation of a classic. 

Peter Macquire arrives in the Canadian woods, where First Nations protestors are trying to stop a logging operation from completely clearing the area of trees. Peter is a lawyer representing the tribe and he's come to tell them that they've lost the case blocking the company from building on the land. Peter plans to appeal but feels hopeless and angry at Bud Rickets, the logging CEO. After participating in a sweat lodge ceremony, Peter meets a mysterious First Nations activist named Arthur. After violently attacking loud partiers at Peter's hotel, Arthur coerces Peter in accompanying him on a mission to kidnap Bud Rickets. Peter is dragged along as Arthur captures and ties up the CEO, before taking them all deep into the woods. Arthur – who seems linked to the legendary trickster spirit Wisakedjak – grows more erratic, making it clear that he intends to follow through on his promise to skin Rickets alive. Peter feels increasingly conflicted about his loyalties. 

“Clearcut” is based on a novel by M.T. Kelly and directed by Polish filmmaker Ryszard Bugajski, neither of whom have any Indigenous blood, as far as I know. Despite that, it is one of the angriest films I have ever seen. An early scene has a protester, after being beaten by a cop, scream profanity at the “white man.” Throughout, police and white authorities refer to the local tribe as “Indians” or “chief.” Meanwhile, the scenes of lumberjacks hacking down trees with chainsaws are shot with a vicious fury, as if we are watching innocent kids cut up. The film returns to the image of blood, or blood-like sap, running down the bark of trees, as if the land itself was gushing from a grievous injury. When Arthur acts against the hicks at the hotel or Rickets, he wraps them in duct tape, notably covering their eyes and mouths. It robs the white people of their visual identity, much the same way all Indigenous people have been treated for centuries. Arthur usually speaks calmly, matter-of-factly going about his gruesome business. As if he has been living with his rage for so long, that it has subsided into silence. That's the kind of fury “Clearcut” shows at all who violate the Earth and disrespect the ancient ways. 

Peter is notably not exempt from that rage. All throughout the film, Arthur is chastised by white men for not doing things “the right way.” Such as when he improvises some spear-fishing. In the last third, during a second steam house ritual, Peter begins to cough and say that Arthur has done it wrong. This seems to point towards the lawyer's true intentions in helping the First Nations people. He claims to be an ally and shows repeated anger and frustration towards the CEO. However, when ultimately forced to choose between helping the “Indian” and helping his fellow white man, who do you think he picks? As a weepy white guy myself, I feel an anger at the injustices persecuted races and minorities have faced from my awful government. Is this an attempt by my psyche to displaced some degree of guilt? Do I care only because it makes me feel better? There's a lot of films out there about brown people suffering, seemingly made primarily to make white folks feel bad. “Clearcut” attacks this attitude head-on, daring to ask its white audience to examine the true origins of their sympathies. 

I'd like to think I'm utterly sincere in my very cool and woke convictions, in my outrage at environmental and social injustices. Maybe I'm full of shit though because I found Graham Greene terrifying in “Clearcut.” When he casually suggests blowing up the paper factory or skinning the CEO alive, it's with the exact sort of tone that makes you completely uncertain of if he's joking or not. The way he refers to himself as an “Indian” or suggests he scalps someone, it speaks to such a clear anger at the treatment of his people and his Earth. When he moves towards violence, all of that tightly contained anger bursts forward into physical action. You have no doubt that he's capable of all the things he says. When he does bellow in rage during the second steam house ritual, it continues that undercurrent of dark humor alongside a frightening intensity. The implication that Arthur truly is some otherworldly spirit of mischief exists strictly at the film's margins. Nevertheless, Greene perfectly captures that feeling. He is violently unpredictable and quietly funny. All of his behavior in accordance with a grand plan that definitely exists even if only he can see it.

“Clearcut” is one of those films that, despite its lack of supernatural events or standard genre conventions, still can't be classify as anything but horror. François Protat's cinematography is gorgeous, looking out over the trees and mountains with an appropriate awe. He creates a real eeriness with simple images, such as Greene's hands outstretched over a lake or Peter's vision of a tree branches reaching out like hands or antlers. Despite the natural beauty of the locations, “Clearcut” feels more and more like you are descending into Hell as you watch it. Michael Hogan's increasingly delirious cries as he goes into shock, combining with the certainty that Peter isn't getting out of this unscathed, adds to a growing sense of intensity throughout. 

Ultimately, “Clearcut” is one of those movies that leaves you stunned in silence afterwards. It feels like a blow to the head, an expression of a primal anger at a list of injustices that has been growing for thousands of years. It does not let its own audience off the hook, forcing the viewer to consider some very unflattering things about themselves. Or maybe that's just me. Either way, “Clearcut” is a hell of a right. A thriller of such intensity that it almost becomes unbearable in parts, it features Graham Greene giving the performance of a life time and some awfully striking imagery. I'm glad the film is getting recognized now. And thirty-four years later, it's hard to say if anything has gotten truly better for Indigenous people. Maybe we need some people like Arthur in real life... [9/10]

The Talisman (1987)
Al Ta'awitha

Last year, on my stop in Egypt during my Horror Around the Wolrd tour, I took in Mohamed Shebl's “Fangs.” Despite commonly being referred to as the Egyptian “Rocky Horror,” I found the film to be a bit more than that. It was a charmingly home-made Halloween party with a highly specific perspective that I found interesting. While a handful of Egyptian horror movies exist, Shebl seems to have been one of the few filmmakers who truly specialized in scary stories. His latter most films, 1989's “Nightmares” and 1992's amusingly entitled “Love and Revenge... With a Meatcleaver,” seem to be completely unavailable to Western horror fans. However, I was able to dig up a subtitled copy of his follow-up to “Fangs,” 1987's “Al Ta'awitha.” Generally, that title is translated as “The Talisman” though the alternate title of “The Curse” seems to be a little more accurate within the context of the actual movie.

Mahmoud is a simple family man, living in a modest Cairo home. The cramped residence houses himself, his wife Rawya, their young son, their teenage daughter Nadia, his mother, and his sister Faten. The family is often having money struggles. When a mysterious man appears, willing to buy the house and give the family a spacious apartment by the Nile in exchange, Rawya is eager to take it. Mahmoud does not want to give up his home though. Little does his wife realize but this eager buyer is actually an evil sorcerer. He really wants their house too. Determined to drive the family out, the villain puts a curse on everyone in the residence. Poltergeist activity, fires, distressing visions, deadly accidents, bleeding faucets, and a visit from a demonic goat all plague the family. They seek out the help of a mystic woman but will it be enough to stop the presence haunting them?

If “Fangs” represented Shebl remixing “Rocky Horror,” “Dracula,” and half a dozen other flicks via a distinctly Egyptian perspective, “The Talisman” sees him doing the same with a number of American horror film. The general premise of  “Al Ta'awitha” plays a bit like “Poltergeist” or “The Amityville Horror.” A cameo from a creepy clown doll, the bleeding plumbing, and the evil extending its influence over a vehicle seems likely seems probably inspired by those blockbusters. A sequence where Rawya's bed starts to rock wildly is obviously a quote from “The Exorcist.” A scene where she's seemingly sexually assaulted by the evil spirit in an elevator brings “The Entity” to mind. The way the evil spirit causes improbable accidents, like a sheet of glass nearly crushing Mahmoud or a scientist accidentally cooking up a poison gas in the lab, suggests a heavy influence from “The Omen” as well. The film is very heavy on roaming point-of-view shots from its malevolent presence suggests “Evil Dead” made its way to Egypt as well. 

As with “Fangs,” the fun here arrives from seeing these familiar moments mashed up in such a free-wheeling style and then paired with hokey, low-fi special effects. A sequence where a black goat projects a star-like shape from its eyes is so low-budget in its construction that the moment borders on abstract art. The car crash is created by seemingly pushing a toy car into a wall. The film saves its wildest special effects for the last few minutes, when the villain tears his own skin off and a towering classical demon with red skin and horns appears. All of this stuff is pure camp but those “Evil Dead”-like perspective shots are genuinely kind of eerie. The film's soundtrack is mostly pilfered from “Psycho II,” alongside a number of American pop songs that the producers definitely didn't pay a license for. The score works though, managing to make an otherwise very silly horror film feel a bit spooky at times. 

Sadly, “The Talisman” is not quite as fleet-footed in its wackiness as “Fangs” was. Much more time is spent on the family's daily strife here. An extended subplot involves a police officer asking for Nadia's hand in marriage. There's several scenes of the family watching movies on television and criticizing them as too violent or addictive. More scenes than were probably necessary focus on Faten's work situation. It's all a bit more pedestrian than I think I would prefer. In general, Shebl's attention wanders from time to time. A sequence set in a disco features a lengthy montage of dancers set to James Brown's “Living in America.” The same setting has a plus-size drag singer lip-synching to Divine's “You Think You're a Man,” once again suggesting the queer undercurrent in “Fangs” was no mistake. These scenes definitely aren't necessary to the plot. Nor is the lengthy moment devoted to a dance-like ritual being performed in the house to ward off the evil spirit. I can appreciate the energy of these moments but they all go on way too long.

Speaking as someone with zero insight into the Egyptian mindset circa 1987, it's hard to read a cultural significance into “The Talisman.” Faten is outspoken in her left-wing politics, much to the chagrin of the traditionalist grandmother. The word of Allah is invoked many times in hopes of driving out the demon. A Sheikh appears to give the family a blessing, assuring them that faith in Allah is all that is needed to overcome evil. It simultaneously feels fairly conservative in its religious messaging, not unlike how any number of American Satanic Panic flicks do, while also being more open-minded than you'd probably expect from Egypt in the late eighties. I'm intrigued but also too ignorant to draw any concrete conclusions here. Still, “The Talisman” is too fascinating to dismiss. I know Shebl's films are unlikely to ever gain official distribution in the west but hopefully his other two movies crop up online eventually. Flawed though it is, I liked “The Talisman” enough to want to see those too. [6/10] 

 

 

Master of Science Fiction: A Clean Escape

“Masters of Horror” was a beautiful dream, despite never living up to the potential of its concept. The dream was so grand that Mick Garris actually envisioned the program as the first in a whole series, in which masters of different genres would be assembled and allowed to run amok. (As long as it was within a television budget.) The first proposed of these spin-offs, and the only to make it to air, was “Masters of Science Fiction.” The masters, in this case, would not be the directors but the authors, famous sci-fi writers having their work adapted into hour-long episodes. It was a good idea and the production team – which, Mick Garris claims, barely involved him – got Stephen Hawking to be the host. I remember being intrigued by “Masters of Science Fiction” in the lead-up to its debut... And then there was nothing. About a year later, when a DVD release came along, I learned that four episodes of the series aired as a summer replacement on ABC with zero promotion. While “Masters of Horror” remains something like a cult favorite, “Masters of Science Fiction” has been entirely forgotten. Well, not by me but I remember everything. I figured I can squeeze an episode into the Blog-a-Thon so I can finally give it a look.

“A Clean Escape,” the debut episode, is about two people. Deanna is a psychologist. Every day, a man named Havelman enters her office for a session. Every day, Havelman has no memory of their previous sessions together. In fact, he thinks he just left home from his wife and kids, that he has to leave early to see his daughter's play at her school. As a result of a trauma of inexpressible grandness, Havelman has retreated entirely into his memory. Deanna is determined to bring him out of it... To face the consequences of what he's done. Because there is nowhere else to go, as the two are actually hundreds of feet underground in a top-secret bunker. Because everyone above is dead. Because Deanna is determined to make the man who killed the world face the gravity of what he's done.

“A Clean Escape” is adapted from a short story by John Kessel. As I was watching the episode, I found it to be rather play-like in its construction, only to learn that Kessel himself had previously adapted the story as just that. I imagine “A Clean Escape” would work a little better as a play. “Masters of Science-Fiction's' version lays the cards down too early. We see flashbacks of Deanna being picked up by the military and taken away from her family, the last time she saw them. Or of people at a weapon manufacturer company discussing some grave course of actions. There are repeated scenes of her in other parts of the underground facility, talking with other high-ranking agents. All of this gives the audience a vague notion of what this situation is exactly, that the planet above has perished in nuclear hellfire. Any time the camera cuts away from Deanna and her patient, the tension flags a little. There are still surprises awaiting in “A Clean Escape,” about the exact identity of these players. However, I imagine this story would be more compelling and satisfying if we went in knowing absolutely nothing, simply that it's about two people in a room.

Those two people are Judy Davis and Sam Waterston. Davis, with a wild fringe of hair that makes her look totally exhausted and on the verge of collapse, gives a complex performance as a doctor who feels sympathy for her client but also demands he face justice for his crimes. The moment where Waterston finally realize who he is and what he's done is a powerful one, a man reduced to screaming and crying like a child. The grim moral of the episode is that those in power tend to be shielded from the consequences of their actions, even if by their own mind. However, for one moment – when “A Clean Escape” crosses over the most into horror, thanks to the grim sights of nuclear annihilation – the guilty are allowed to feel the weight of what they've done. A good hour of television. It's a shame “Masters of Science-Fiction” was never given a proper chance. [7/10]

 

Haunted Indiana (1981)
 

Public access television has a bad reputation, associated with amateur productions made with a complete lack of budget or production values. While this is true, the low barrier to entry for local television meant the kind of people who maybe didn't normally get to make movies and TV shows managed to sneak onto television anyway. That brings with it a natural, home-made charm all of its own. That is readily apparent with “Haunted Indiana,” a nineteen minute Halloween special made for Bloomington, Indiana television station, WTTV4. It tells five urban legends, collected from the Indiana University Department of Folklore: A professor is chased through the woods by the ghost of a hanged murderer. A motorist on Cable Line Road near Elkhart, Indiana encounters the Sasquatch-like Cable Line Monster, which costs him his life and leaves his face imprinted on a near-by tree. A group of kids on a camping tree awaken within a ghostly cemetery. A devout Catholic woman decides murdering her husband is not as big of a sin as divorcing him, burning their house down and sealing her own fate instead. The final tale involves a little boy named John hearing strange noises from the stairs outside his bedroom at night, proceeding a grisly fate. 

I've never been to Indiana but the stories and backwoods locations displayed here seem universal to me. The production values in “Haunted Indiana” are non-existent. Co-writer Stephen White provides the narration, speaking in plain-voiced tones that aren't spooky at all. The narration plays over all the footage, doing little to distract from the extremely cheesy acting. Shot entirely on video tape, the whole short has a grainy, washed-out, backyard look to it. All the music is stolen from recognizable scores, with the “Night of the Living Dead” and “Psycho” themes being notably reused. Most prominently, the special effects are deeply unconvincing. A “ghost” is a Halloween store prop with pixelated vector graphics overlaid. A monster is a pimply mask with bright red stage-blood dripping from his mouth. The fourth story is mostly composed of shots of the woods and trees in the surrounding area. 

If all of the above sounds like criticism, then I'm afraid you've misread my tone. “Haunted Indiana' is exceedingly charming exactly because of its lack of professional sheen and flashy special effects. The corny acting pairs perfectly with these well-trotted ghost tales, capturing the exact kind of community theater vibes you want from local legends such as these. The special effects further seal this “let's-put-on-a-show” atmosphere, the efforts of inexperienced craftsman doing the best they can with the extremely limited resources available to them. I doubt those involved with “Haunted Indiana” made much, if any, money from its production. This is the result of people doing it strictly for the love of the artform, motivated by the desire to tell a story and have a good time than any businessman-like concerns. Pure cinema, in other words, as it should be. 

As for the stories themselves? The Cable Line Monster segment is so dark, as to be barely perceivable. The shot of a face appearing on a tree at the end is extremely goofy. The third and fourth stories are so minor as to barely register, counting as underwhelming examples of horror. The first and fifth segments, however, kind of rock. There's a campfire story creakiness to both rendition. The highly energetic sequence of a cheap spectre chasing a balding professor through the woods is exhilarating. The finale, of a little boy haunted and claimed by an hideous beast, is the exact kind of scary story youngsters pass around the playground. Threadbare as the production values may be, there is a certain zest to the telling that makes it invigorating anyway. Unlike most public access productions, that air once and are never seen again, “Haunted Indiana” re-run on local TV for many years. During all those showings, it is said to have spook more than one young viewer. That's exactly the way it should be, as this brief anthology persists entirely on the same kind of barreling-ahead youthful energy that an impromptu exchange of urban legends does. Overflowing with lo-fi Halloween vibes, it now survives forever as a blurry internet upload. [7/10]

Halloween 2025: October 12th

 

Şeytan (1974)

 

A Turkish film industry has existed since 1914 and has, at various points in time, flourished. In the sixties, Turkey was actually the fifth biggest producer of films in the world. Things have slowed down considerably since then but Türkiye absolutely has cinematic traditions all its own. However, classic Turkish cinema remains extremely obscure outside of its borders. Instead, the films that tend to attract the most international attention are the rip-offs. A trend retrospectively known as “Turksploitation” emerged in the seventies, that blatantly copied Hollywood blockbusters, often using footage and music from these films on a strictly unofficial basis. Clips from “Turkish Star Wars,” “Turkish Rambo,” “Turkish Superman,” and that movie where Captain America and Santo fight Evil Spider-Man have circulated freely among the internet for years and years, mocked by dipshit nerds totally ignorant of other cultures. Among those infamous wannabes is what is commonly known as “Turkish Exorcist.” The actual title is “Şeytan” and, while I'm sure a knock-off of a horror classic probably isn't how Turkish horror fans would want their country represented, I'm simply too curious not to check this one out.

Stop me if you've heard this one before: Somewhere in the Middle East, a wise old man of the cloth walks through the desert. He approaches a recently unearthed statue of a demonic figure, glaring at it expectantly. Far away, in Istanbul, Ayten is currently in the midst of a divorce. Her young daughter, Gül, doesn't seem too bothered by it. The family enjoys the comforts afforded to by her mother's rich lifestyle. However, she's also been messing with a Ouija board. Next, Ayten hears weird noises from the attic. While looking for the mice that the home's caretaker says aren't present, she comes across a book on the topic of the devil. It's been written by Tuğrul Bilge, an atheist author who lives near-by. It's a concerning appearance that seems to signal  Gül's behavior getting stranger. She sleepwalks, starts acting violently, her bed begins quaking at night. Science is helpless to diagnosis her. Soon, it seems her body has been entirely taken over by a spirit that claims to be Seytan himself. Tuğrul is asked to assist and, after the extraordinary evidence piles up, seeks out the help of the only man that can save Gül. A man that you could, convincingly, call an exorcist.

In the past, I have always seen “Şeytan” referred to as a shot-for-shot remake of “The Exorcist.” This is not true. First off, the Turkish film is over twenty minutes shorter than the Hollywood original. Secondly, a number of adaptational changes are apparent. Such as the Father Karras character being changed from a priest to an author or the mother seemingly no longer being an actress. However, it is true that “Şeytan” does directly copy all the most famous scenes from “The Exorcist.” Most of these scenes are laughably pale imitations of iconic moments. The candle going out in the attic, Reagan being thrashed around on her bed, the pea soup, the levitation, the “Power of Christ compels you!” It's all here, just in Turkish and done with a fraction of the budget and a lot less talent. Look no further than the recreation of the head-spinning sequence and the infamous bloody crucifix masturbation that proceeds it. The cross is replaced with a demonic dagger. The furniture moving across the room looks incredibly cheesy. The head twisting around on the shoulders looks a lot like an actor looking over the shoulder of a dummy body. 

A key difference in that scene between “Şeytan” and “The Exorcist” is that... In the Turkish version, the girl does not appear to be defiling a holy symbol. Instead, it looks like she's merely stabbing herself in the thigh with the demon-headed dagger. Part of what made “The Exorcist” such a shocking success in the seventies is that it had a ream of vile profanity coming out of an angelic young girl's mouth. One can only assume that something is lost in translation but, going by the subtitles on my copy, the worst swear Gül unleashes is to call someone “senile.” Similarly, the scars on the girl's face look like cheap Halloween make-up. Especially when combined with the green skin. The vomiting appears more like spat out globs of snot than vulgar streams of greenish puke. I don't know much about Turkish censorship standards. However, it would seem that, in order to make “The Exorcist” an appropriate story for Turkish audience, the filmmakers of  “Şeytan” ended up removing all the edge and danger from the material. In this telling, there's never any doubt that the girl's soul will be saved. The shock value isn't gone only because the audience has already seen this all before. It's as if the transgressive energy has been surgically removed.

That is to be expected, I suppose, when comparing the Hollywood original to the low-budget, international copycat. Presumably the value in a project like this comes from the cultural differences made evident in the retelling. Most obviously, Türkiye is another Muslim majority country. I don't know how familiar your average Turkish person is with the tenets of Catholicism. While the exact faith of the man called to exorcise the girl here is never actually specified, his prayers seem specifically Islamic in nature. He is presumably preaching from a Quran. Shifting the Karras figure from a priest whose faith has lapsed to a non-believer, who never had any faith in the first place, changes the meaning of the material in a serious way. Tuğrul Bilge accepting the existence of supernatural evil and sacrificing himself paints a more conservative image, of somebody atoning for questioning God's existence at all. One of the new additions to “The Exorcist” template is an epilogue, wherein the now demon-free little girl seems to receive a blessing from a holy man looking apparition. This removes all the ambiguity from the source material. “Şeytan” is not about the crisis of faith in the modern age or the question of whether a real source of good exists to challenge the evil in the world. It is, instead, a reaffirmation that God is good and all-powerful and none of this bad shit would've happened if people hadn't doubted that in the first place.

That is interesting. Is it interesting enough to make “Şeytan” worth watching, especially if you've seen “The Exorcist” fifty times? Probably not. The differences that do emerge surely reflect variations in beliefs. Does the scene of the rather goofy looking demonic figure appearing in the girl's bedroom, wherein the possessed victim visibly bows before it, reflect a difference in how Islam considers the figure of Shaitan in comparison to what modern Christian demographics think of Satan? You'd probably need to be better read in Turkish culture and Muslim beliefs than I am to say for sure. Nevertheless, whatever anthropological factors “Şeytan” reveals is overshadowed by it being a supremely fangless and rather dryly executed unofficial remake. I suppose I am glad I saw it but, ultimately, it's hard to justify watching more than a high-light as worthwhile in a world when you can simply watch “The Exorcist” instead. [5/10]

Watchers Reborn (1998)

For all its many and obvious flaws, “Watchers 3” could be commended for one element. It was something like an actual sequel to the previous entry in the series. While the second movie operated as another adaptation of the original novel, the third at least attempted to continue the story. It didn't do it well. The explanation provided for what happened to Paul Ferguson and Einstein the smart dog in-between movies was not satisfying. The new Outsider in part three was also implied to be the same monster from the last time, suggesting that some re-writing was done between installments. Still, having now set a precedent, you would expect a fourth “Watchers” to follow this pattern too, right? Unfortunately, someone decided to resume the original pattern by making “Watchers Reborn” another adaptation of the story Dean Koontz had written nearly two decades earlier at this point. Perhaps creature effects specialist and “Ghoulies III: Ghoulies Go to College” auteur John Carl Buechler was simply a big fan of the book and wanted to do it right this time. More likely, nobody was expending the necessary creativity and thought process to think of a new story for the fourth “Watchers” movie. Still, there's enough familiar faces and names behind and in front of the camera for this fourthquel to catch my attention.

So, once more, with feeling: A government research facility blows up. A dog and a monster escape. The dog is smarter than the average canine. The monster likes to rip people's eyes out. Dr. Grace Hudson, a geneticist involved with the project, goes in search of the hound. A group of G-man assassins, led by Lem Johnson, are out to destroy both projects and eliminate any witnesses. This time, a traumatized police detective named Jack Murphy ends up with Einstein, the smart dog. It's not long before Grace finds him, the trio going on the run from both the federal agents and the monster. The doctor and the cop fall in love, as she seeks to protect Einstein and communicate with the Outsider before both are killed by the ruthless Lem.

As far as fourth entries in direct-to-video monster movie franchises go, "Watchers Reborn" has a fairly high profile cast. One suspects John Carl Buechler cashed in some favors he had built up through his years as a make-up and effects guy. Mark Hamill is the hero, Lisa Wilcox of "A Nightmare on Street 4" is the heroine, and Stephen Macht from "Monster Squad" and "Graveyard Shift" is the bad guy. The further down the guest list you go, the more random it gets. Perennial TV special guest star and talk show host Gary Collins is Hamill's ill-fated partner and Lou Rawls appears as a scientist. Kane Hodder has a cameo. Sadly, "Watchers Reborn" gives its eccentric cast little to do. Hamill looks amusingly disheveled and worn out but his character's tragic backstory is utterly routine. The script prioritizes his romance with Wilcox over his bond with the genius dog. The two have mildly interesting chemistry but their love story is no where compelling enough to devote this much screen time too. “Watchers Reborn” almost feels more like a boring romantic-comedy between these two than a proper horror film.

With a blue print provided by Koontz' novel and three previous movies, you wouldn't think “Watchers Reborn” would be as sloppily assembled as it is. The standard chase plot is routinely interrupted by weird digressions. An extended scene follows a couple in a bar, arguing with the mobster who wants to sell drugs in this establishment. As you begin to truly wonder what any of this has to do with the rest of the movie, the monster busts in. Another scene has Hamill hitching a ride with a random driver. This seemingly unimportant passer-by persists for a number of scenes afterwards. Far too many moments in “Watchers Reborn” are like that, allowed to ramble on for far longer than necessary. It creates a slapdash feeling with an incredibly unmotivated pacing, events changing depending on who was available that day and headed in no determined direction.

An element I liked a lot in Koontz' novel was the treatment of the Outsider. A frightening monster that routinely tears people apart, it was also driven to destroy through instincts cooked in by its makers. This was a Frankensteinian creature, made without its consent, designed to be unlovable, and so repulsed by its own hideousness that it was disgusted by the idea of anyone looking at it. The previous adaptations pulled from that a little bit.  Buechler's take begins with the Outsider being a mindless monster, that looks like a greasy-faced version of the werewolf from “Altered Beasts.” Slowly, it is revealed that the monster can talk. The last act suddenly plays up the monster's sympathetic aspects. It's not a bad idea but comes across as a random change made far into the runtime. Not to mention it's hard to feel bad for a monster that ripped a bunch of people apart earlier, in gorier fashion than the other “Watchers” films. 

Much of “Watchers Reborn” is set in forgettable looking apartments, barns, and warehouses. This does not dissuade the notion that the movie was made cheaply and hastily with whatever was available. Aside from a scene where he writes his name out in gravy on a newspaper, Einstein the dog doesn't get nearly enough to do either. How do you make a movie about a super-smart dog and not have most of the plot revolve around him? It's not any more faithful to the book than previous adaptations. I guess the “Reborn” subtitle is technically correct but the film certainly lacks the renewed energy you expect from a rebirthing. How can a book be made into a movie four times and each of them miss the mark on what made the original special? A decent cast was pulled together for this one but there's very little else about “Watchers Reborn” that justifies its existence. Maybe someone will give this story of brainy dogs and the monsters who hate them a proper shot some day... [5/10]

 

Dr. Terrible's House of Horrible: Scream Satan Scream!

As an ignorant American, I only know of Steve Coogan for his appearances as an actor in Hollywood movies of varying middlebrow-ness. I am vaguely aware of the Alan Partridge character that he's played many times for British television but that's about the extent of my knowledge about that. However, upon discovering that Coogan also created and starred in a series spoofing classic British horror movies, well, that's a lot more up my alley. “Dr. Terrible's House of Horrible” aired for six episodes on BBC Two in the fall of 2001. Coogan introduced each episode under heavy make-up as “Dr. Terrible,” a slightly senile seeming mad scientist type who would present stories from the fire side, like Roald Dahl in “Tales of the Unexpected.” As the title indicated, the Amicus anthology films was a primary source of inspiration but episodes also spoofed Hammer horror, “The Hands of Orlac,” and Yellow Peril stories. Sounds like a fairly niche idea for a series to me and I''m not surprised to read that audiences didn't warm up to it. But maybe I will...

The final episode to air, “Scream Satan Scream!,” is primarily inspired by “Witchfinder General.”  In it, Coogan plays Captain Slater: Witch Locator. He travels the countryside with his depraved dwarf assistant, Tygon, and looks for beautiful woman to accuse of being witches. It would seem that his methods of determining if a woman is consorting with the devil involves quite a lot of personal inspection of their naked bodies. At some point, Slater actually did burn a real witch at the stake. Now, her two sisters have placed a curse upon Slater and are determined to turn the hysterical, devil-fearing mobs that he riles up against him. Somehow, however, Slater keeps escaping being hoisted by his own placard. 

“Scream Satan Scream!” is, as far as comedies go, pretty dumb. It would be inaccurate to say that the episode only has one joke. However, it does revisit the central joke – that the pious witchfinder is just a horny bastard looking to get laid, using his witch-hunting techniques as an excuse – over and over again. This does lead to a few chuckles, namely the way the universe constantly stymies Slater's efforts. When presented with a pair of beautiful twins, they dead-pan answer each of his questions about witchcraft in the negative. A series of crude double entendres revolving around the town's name “Devil's Hole” is a gag beat so far into the ground that the repetition of the joke itself becomes the joke. Probably the moment that made me laugh the most is when Slater enters the cabin of a young lady he's prepared to accuse of witchcraft, only to discover that she has a giant crucifix up on her wall. 

The more surreal, absurd bits are the ones that made me chuckle a bit more consistently here. None other than Warwick Davis appears as Tygon, an obvious shout-out to the production company that made “Witchfinder General.” Davis never speaks but gets in a number of amusing physical gags, such as when he repeatedly stumbles into metal traps. A sequence in which Slater gets a branding iron all ready only for his intended victim to successfully dispel it, forcing him to brand Davis instead, made me chuckle. That weirdness persists throughout, especially in the climatic sequence where the devil itself appear. The show also attempts to draw humor from the conflicting elements of various witch lore, which is the first joke anybody makes about swimming a witch. I laughed a little but this is an odd one. What would the modern American equavelent to this be? Eric Andre convincing Adult Swim to fund comedic homages to Ray Dennis Steckler?  I think I admire the audacity of something like this actually making it to air more than I enjoyed it as a comedy. [6/10]

The Woman Who Powders Herself (1972)

La femme qui se poudre
 

Horror is one of the few cinematic genres that can entirely get by on mood and atmosphere. Furthermore, it often invokes the surreal and absurd, violating the natural order of the world, in service of unnerving the viewer. Because of this, horror and experimental film making sometimes cross paths. As is the case with "The Woman Who Powders Herself," an inexplicable fifteen minutes of nightmare imagery from French mixed media artist, Patrick Bolanowski. Through a shadowy, distorted, silent movie-like aperture, the short presents a number of bizarre scenes. People wearing dehumanizing, plaster masks motion to each other through the darkness. A woman cakes herself in dust while a man tends to her within a geometrical room. A figure moves across a desolate, surreal landscape. Someone pours a black liquid – Blood? Oil? – into a tea cup until it overflows and consumes the screen. Ominous figures advance on the woman while floating material assembles itself into a tower out in the distance. All the while, a discordant soundscape plays as the footage crackles, warps, and twists through filmic, photographic, and animated means. 

When a film wanders as far into the art house as "The Woman Who Powders Herself" does, what it all means is as much your guess as mine. The provided synopsis describes it as "a study of human anxieties about beauty, youth, and objectification." The actors' faces are twisted into crude caricatures of humanity, except for those who seem to wear a wreath of tumorous tissue around their heads. I suppose that relates to beauty. Is the titular woman meant to be elderly, fighting off her aging appearance by covering her face? Or is she hiding from the world that seeks to objectify her, which descends on her at the end? If that's the case, what does all the other weird shit mean? 

Trying to fashion a narrative out of almost purely experimental filmmaking like "The Woman Who Powders Herself" is hard to do. The desert-like landscape and warped faces gave me post-apocalyptic vibes. The increasingly cracked and popping visuals certainly feel like a depiction of a world falling into nonexistence. Though the touches of animation seem almost whimsical compared to the otherwise haunting imagery. The musical score is composed of mechanical shrieks, foghorn-like cries, and what sounds like water dripping into a sink. All together, the result is a total head scratcher that, nevertheless, summons up an eerie feeling in the viewer and presents our eyes truly with some things we haven't seen before. One wonders if a young David Lynch wasn't influenced by the film. “Eraserhead's” score and visuals share some similarities. While I have zero doubts that E. Elias Merhige swiped nearly the entire "Begotten" aesthetic from this. Nowadays, if you slapped some gnarly doom metal on top of "The Woman Who Powders Herself," you'd have a pretty fucked-up music video. [7/10]