Halloween 2025: September 30th

Rapture (1979)
Arrebato

If it wasn't obvious already, when I think of Spanish genre cinema, names like Paul Naschy or Jess Franco tend to come to mind for me first. Motion pictures of that sort were often exploitation cheapies, filtering familiar horror tropes through a distinctively European sensibility. A lot of them were also, notably, made while dictator Francisco Franco was still in power. When Franco finally died in 1975, it obviously led to wide-spread cultural shifts. Out of this moment emerged a social movement and subculture known as La Movida Madrileña. It was defined by punk rock, synth music, new attitudes about sexuality, and people doing lots of drugs. There were Madrileña movies too. Ivan Zulueta was a director artsy short films, a poster designer, and a full-time heroin addict. He would draw on all three of these inspirations when making 1979's “Arrebato.” Known as “Rapture” in English, the film would become a cult classic in Spain before slowly gathering a reputation around the world as a classic of art house horror. Well, let's give this one a look.

Jose is a filmmaker who has found little satisfaction directing low budget monster movies. His relationship with his girlfriend, Ana, is slowly dissolving because of his growing dependency on heroin. This is when he receives a package from an old friend, Pedro. Inside is an audio cassette and a film reel. The recording describes how Jose and Pedro, an obsessive creator of home-made movies and also an addict, first met. Pedro became increasingly obsessed with time-lapse photographer, determined to discover something special on-film. While trying to get clean and relapsing, Pedro discovered a time lapse recording of himself as he slept. Right before he startled awake, the film reel went completely red. He attempted to uncover what happened in those red squares. Jose becomes fascinated by this mystery as well, following the clues back to Pedro's apartment to uncover what led to his disappearance. 

“Arrebato” is a motion picture about the medium of the motion picture itself. Its opening image is of an actress, playing a vampire, looking directly into the camera. This is meant to establish the boundaries of the fourth wall, that barrier that separates fact from fiction. The characters in “Rapture” are film obsessives themselves. Jose is dissatisfied with working in the medium itself, unable to find the ecstasy in making movies himself that he's discovered when watching them. Pedro, meanwhile, is so enamored with trying to discover some sort of greater truth through filmmaking that his amateur productions bring him to tears. Film is a transcendent medium, which can bring dreams to life and make the imagination a moving illusion of physical reality. Zulueta's movie plays with the medium itself. Once or twice, the image develops a stuttering start-and-stop, much like the time-lapse movies Pedro makes. At first, I wondered if Shudder was starting to skip during these moments. Cameras, film, and screens are featured all throughout “Arrebato” and the film is very concerned with finding some deeper meaning in these ideas.

However, I do wish Zulueta's film delve into the question of what the obsessive movie fan seeks out a little more. I'm one myself. I know why I hunger for movies, to seek and uncover hidden gems and dig into the meaning of what I observe. I want to learn, to see other people's experiences. Moreover, film is an audio/visual dreamscape that wash over the viewer, overwhelming our eyes and ears and bringing the impossible to life. It means a lot to me. What does the medium mean to the characters in “Arrebato?” Much of the runtime is devoted to Pedro's final message, his memories of events that led up to his disappearance. He talks about the “rapture” he feels at the moving image. “Rapture” is typically described as an intense pleasure or joy, euphoria, bliss, elation. I've certainly experience those emotions from discovering a good movie. Yet the rapture spoken of her seems to imply some deeper meaning behind the act of recording and being recorded itself. 

And what does that mean? For all “Arrebato” talks about the joy of watching and recording, we see the characters do surprisingly little watching or recording themselves. The closest we get is Ana observing a Betty Boop doll she had as a girl while in the throes of a heroin high. Does looking at this doll remind Ana of simpler times, transporting her back to her childhood? Is film making a form of time travel, revealing the past to us as it happened? As “Rapture” goes on, the implication seems to be more and more that the camera can capture something that the human eye cannot. Frustratingly, the movie never seems ready to actually comment on what these ideas mean to the characters. I kept waiting for a reveal about what Pedro discovered by recording himself sleeping, that his time lapse films accidentally exposed some cosmic truth. “Arrebato” is not the kind of movie interested in answers however. Its vagueness forces the viewer to come not only to their own conclusions about what the story implies but also what deeper topics it's commenting on.

Assuming, of course, that “Rapture” is primarily a movie about movie making. I mean, it obviously is but it's also, fairly explicitly, a movie about heroin. We see Jose dissolve the powder in a spoon, fill up a syringe, and inject the substance into his arm. Characters repeatedly spread out white lines and snort them. Jose gives Ana a taste of the drug at one point. Before the end arrives, she's hooked too. Pedro is already a junkie, which he bonds with Jose over. The characters grow paler, sweatier, and skinnier as the movie goes on. Considering Zulueta was also a drug addict while making the film, we can assume he's speaking from experience. That seems to be the primary thematic point of “Arrebato.” The characters search for a grand ecstasy in the moving image the same way they keep shooting up, looking for a subsequent high that compares to the first one. Yes, being a movie fanatic is sometimes like being a drug addict. It can take over your life. You keep searching for films in hopes of finding as transcendent an experience as the one that got you hooked. I'm not sure I've reached a point, however, where the camera and all it represents begins to direct me, the way an addict looses control of their life to their drug of choice. If “Rapture” reflects that experience for other people, so be it. That didn't speak to me though.

I've never done heroin. I think it would be a bad idea if I did. From what I've read about the effects of a heroin high, “Arrebato” seems to seek to recreate a similar feeling in the viewer. It's a slow, meandering movie. There are digressions not directly linked to the story. Such as Pedro heading out on a night on the town with a woman. Or Ana dressing up and doing a little song and dance for Jose. Despite the neutrality of these depictions, there's a sinister undercurrent throughout. When “Arrebato” finally moves towards proper horror in its last act, it is a creepy and unsettling pay-off of everything that came before. The final image is properly spooky. You are going to have to be patient to get there though.

“Rapture” is definitely a very interesting experience. However, for a movie as much about being a movie watcher, it seems strangely simplistic in its understanding of what movies are. Maybe you'll get more out of it if you're also a drug addict. There's a sleaziness to its horse-cooked imagery that is effective. This is the kind of movie that makes you feel a little scummy, for putting you so totally into its underworld. However, I don't think the parallels between being a film junkie and a literal junkie are that deep. Zulueta's own career was derailed by his drug problem, the man nearly self-destructing like his character do. Perhaps if he saw more movies and got high less I would relate to this one a bit more. “Arrebato” is ultimately one I admire more than I can actually praise. [7/10]

 

 

 

Past Midnight (1991)

The legend of Quentin Tarantino – loud-mouthed asshole, belligerent cokehead, full-time Zionist, Polanski defender, maybe the greatest American director of his generation – is that he went from working in a video store in Manhattan Beach, California to writing and directing "Reservoir Dogs" overnight. This is not true, of course. He worked on two uncompleted student films, was a lowly production assistant on Dolph Lundgren's workout tape, and played the undignified role of an Elvis impersonator in an episode of "The Golden Girls." His first job as a professional Hollywood screenwriter was a little-seen thriller called "Past Midnight." The film is not mentioned in his main Wikipedia article but it is his earliest industry credit on IMDb. How Tarantino became involved with the production, I don't know. What we do know is that he rewrote much of the script. Supposedly, star Rutger Hauer disliked the changes and refused to perform any of Tarantino's dialogue while original screenwriter, Frank Norwood, declined to share credit. The future "Pulp Fiction" auteur was given an Associate Producer role as a compromise and that was that. The movie ended up going straight to the USA Network before being dumped on video, rarely mentioned since. However, surely the technical debut of a film nerd God starring a cult face like Hauer is worth a second look? Let's find out. 

Fifteen years ago, Ben Jordan came home drunk and violently stabbed his pregnant wife to death. This is what the evidence, including a home movie showing the murder, would seem to suggest. Proclaiming that he had no memory of the crime the whole time, Jordan was sent away to prison. Now, he has been released on good behavior with Laura Matthews assigned as his social worker. She is charmed by the quiet, passionate Ben. The two fall on love and she begins to question the narrative that he is guilty. Laura rents a cabin in his home town and starts to dig into what happened that night. Her asking questions about the killing arouses suspicion among the locals and pisses off her coworker Lee, who has a crush on her. Soon, Laura is being stalked and threatened by an unseen assailant. Oh yeah, she's pregnant too, Ben is acting more and more erratic, and other people around begin to die. 

"Past Midnight" attempts to derive tension from the question at the center of the narrative: Well, did he do it? The system deemed Ben guilty. The opening shows him emerging from his home, covered with blood, and clearly panicked. The home movie shows someone stabbing his wife to death, the killer's face unrevealed, but there's no evidence anyone else was in the house that night. Ben proclaims his innocence, has no interest in digging up the past, and simply wants to move on with his life. Laura encounters multiple suspicious people as she investigates what happened. Such as the victim's blustery father who might have had an inappropriate relationship with his daughter. The town simpleton, Larry Canipe, seems awfully guilty about something and follows Laura in one scene. Once the violent harassment starts, you begin to wonder if Lee has gone insane with jealousy over Laura's relationship with Ben. Throughout it all, Ben doesn't exactly act innocent either. He breaks into her cabin, stands over her bed as she sleeps, grows wild-eyed and sweaty at various points. The narrative would seem to demand that Ben is the victim of an elaborate frame-up but he sure seems crazy. The film effectively generates a proper amount of uncertainty over whether Ben slashed his wife to death or not. If Laura was right to trust him and if that willingness to forgive has only put her in more danger. 

The film also points, perhaps unintentionally, towards another idea. Laura is truly the only female character of any importance in “Past Midnight.” There's the dead wife, a friend in all of one scene, a lady client at the start, and an awfully curious nurse at the doctor's office. Otherwise, the protagonist is alone as the sole woman in this world. And she is surrounded on all sides by shitty dudes. Lee is a friend, a co-worker, and possibly a former lover. He definitely doesn't seem to respect Laura's boundaries though, constantly pushing for more of a relationship. When he shows up to intimate Ben at his job, it reads less like concern over his friend now dating a convicted murderer and more like petty jealousy. Not that Ben is much better either. He also clearly doesn't respect Laura's privacy much, coming and going from her cabin whenever he pleases. Every man in the film is a shifty, hard-to-trust weirdo who thinks a woman is little more than a man's property. You also see this in how the victim's father seems more indignant that something that belonged to him was destroyed than specifically the loss of his child. Or in the way a police detective describes the footage of the murder as nastier than “A Nightmare on Elm Street,” hardly the serious manner you'd want a recording of someone actually dying to be handled with. 

It's hard to say if “Past Midnight” was intentionally making a feminist point or not. Tarantino's later work would become famous for freely mixing elements together from multiple subgenres. “Past Midnight” is heavily noir influenced, with its story of a protagonist getting in over their heads as they navigate a world where no one can be trusted. There's a little of the erotic thriller style present, especially in the extended sex scene between Laura and Ben. (Lots of hair pulling there.) Once the murders begin, the film starts to resemble a trashier horror flick. There's a dismembered arm left behind, threatening messages scrawled in blood. It only gets schlockier as after the killer is revealed. With little prompting, the knife wielding maniac reveals his modus operandi and his Freudian excuse for the killings. The finale is set during a deluge, features lots of shattering glass, slow-motion, and a rifle going off like an explosion. Good stuff, in other words, if you enjoy trash like this. 

Watching “Past Midnight” evolve from a slightly silly but mostly played straight neo-noir into a goofier, over overheated film is very entertaining. This divide is reflected in the cast too. Natasha Richardson stars as Laura and she gives a minor-key, likable performance. It's the kind of acting, lived-in and fleshed-out without devoting much screen time to backstory, that suggests a serious actor doing their job. Clancy Brown is far more understated than usual as Lee, making him seem as much like a normal guy as possible. In his screen debut, Paul Giametti has the embarrassing job of playing a Faulknerian man-child. His visible gulping and big, sad eyes make the character a little more than a cliché. Sticking out among all this fairly understated acting is Rutger Hauer, doing the things you pay Rutger Hauer to do. In other words, those steely blue eyes bulge with intensity, Hauer bringing a sense of desperation to the character that suggests he could fly off the angle at any second. That actually adds to the suspense in the film, as it makes Ben seem more believable as a possible killer. 

You can hear Tarantino's voice in “Past Midnight” too. The dialogue is peppered with the occasional pop culture reference. Moreover, there's a conversational element to the discussion, that feel a lot less route than what you'd normally hear in a movie like this and more like stuff people would actually say in real life. Director Jan Eliasberg has worked almost exclusively in television besides this. He does not display much of a visual eye, though a scene of Lee fishing outside Laura's cabin while she makes a disturbing discovery is cut together fairly well. That “Past Midnight” wind up debuting on the USA Network is fitting, as the entire film feels a bit like a weirder, sexier, bloodier episode of “Silk Stalkings.” Exactly the kind of thing that prospers from low expectations. I'm not saying this is a hidden gem, exactly, but it's a sturdy, fun little thriller worth seeking out for fans of anyone involved. [7/10]

Unsolved Mysteries: Season 9, Episode 14

I tend to think of “Unsolved Mysteries” as an entity of the late eighties and early nineties. However, the series' original run lasted until 2002, with seventeen seasons across three different networks. By season nine, the show had a slightly creepier opening sequence and a notably less creepy theme song, However, the general format remained the same. Robert Stack would gravely presents true – or at least “true” – mysteries from the shadows, while dramatic re-enactments played out. The fourteenth episode of that season is a good example of how your average “Unsolved Mysteries” varied unpredictably between normal television, the lamest shit possible and high-octane nightmare fuel. Presented alongside a story of a man being reunited with the woman who saved his life, a lady looking for the half-sister she never knew, and a basic rundown of the facts in the case of Tupac Shakur are a bracing recreation of a brutal home invasion/robbery and a segment showing how spontaneous human combustion can strike at any point.

I watched this specific episode of “Unsolved Mysteries” because a list of the show's scariest moments high-lighted the one about spontaneous human combustion. The re-enactments here dryly combine the mundane and the hyper-dramatic. A woman's recounting of how her shirt started spouting smoke one morning is difficult to take too seriously. Later sequences, of grisly discoveries of bodies having burned to ash at super high temperatures while leaving the near-by area unaffected, are more concerning. “Spontaneous human combustion” is one of those supposed paranormal phenomena that exist only because people discard the obvious evidence in front of them. Joe Nickell of Skeptical Inquirer is here to point out that the first case was of a bed-bound smoker with a highly combustible oxygen supply near by. The second was of an infirm old man known to dropped his lit pipe on his fabric robe while carrying matches in his pocket. The believer rebuttal is from some goofy guy named Larry E. Arnold, who eventually claims SHC is a result of people's inner electric impulse magically going berserk. Despite that, the images of a blackened crater in a bed and a near-by melted TV, or a hole seared right through the floor with body parts around it, are freaky as hell. 

If you watched this shit as a kid, I could see how it would upset you. You'd be left with the disturbing information that all of us are walking human candles, simply waiting to ignite, through means either explainable or mysterious. Watching as an adult, I honestly found the opening re-enactment of the robbery more disturbing. The dramatic footage is shot through a frenzied, shaky filter that conveys the victim's shocked mind. The actual woman's recounting of what happened shows how clearly traumatized she was by the incident. The first robber wears a Dracula mask and waves a guy around, pointing it right at the screen. The version of the episode on streaming now concludes with an update, that the assholes who did this – co-workers of the woman's son – were apprehended, tried, convicted, served their time, and are now out on the street. Doesn't make you feel much better does it? When combined with Stack's hyper-dramatic narration, sometimes presented alongside plumes of fire, it's the stuff of nightmares. Not those Lost Love segments though... [7/10]

The Addams Family: Ophelia's Career

“The Addams Family” was never a massive ratings success, despite its cult following and positive critical reception. Ratings declined throughout the 1966 season, perhaps because of competition from “Batman.” Filmways was prepared to film a third season in color, the cast ready to return, but ABC canceled the show without warning in April. This left the series ending unceremoniously on an Ophelia centric episode. “Ophelia's Career” sees Morticia's judo-tossing twin sister, once again, abandoned by her latest beau. Gomez suggests that she uses Uncle Fester's chemistry set to whip up a new man for herself. When this fails to produce any results, it is suggested that Ophelia leave romance behind and focus on finding a satisfying career. A spontaneous incident with an accordion sees her attempting to pursue a job as an opera singer. Though she initially annoys her vocal coach, Ophelia reveals talent in time. Unfortunately, the family's eccentric ways – and the caustic vocal spray Fester cooks up – leads to disaster when an opera director arrives to hear Ophelia sing. 

Charles Addams himself always had little involvement with the TV show based on his cartoons, as he disliked how the series made his family “less evil.” (It also led the New Yorker refusing to publish more of his comics, as they didn't want to be associated with a low-class medium like television.) That's a fair assessment of the campy sitcom. However, the last episode does feature some slightly edgier jokes than most. The opening gag has Fester moving towards an enormous saw blade, the family delighted to see what will happen next. The music teacher hired to train Ophelia is so disgusted by what he hears, that he threatens to beat the woman. Later in the episode, the same man considers ending his own life after the Addams destroy his career. Perhaps not behavior that would classify as “evil” exactly but still a bit more mischievous and morbid than the Addams' cheerier moments in the sixties.

There are a couple of inspired gags like that in this one. Cousin Itt's glib reaction to asking to teach Ophelia sees the mound of hair producing a laugh with simply a tilt of his head. The result of this training is also nicely absurd. I also like the bits where Gomez asks Lurch to refill a barrel full of petty cash and Fester swallows a whistle. As another example of this married couple being far hornier than their contemporaries, “Ophelia's Career” also sees the wife suggesting they retreat to the play room to sing some more before Gomez suggest they “play” instead. That was surely a fairly racy quip for the time but it's actually a double subversion. The next scene sees the married couple preparing to play ice hockey minus the ice. Otherwise, this is another season two “Addams Family” installment that's a bit too heavy on the running gags. Sharp as Carolyn Jones and John Astin's delivery might be, I can only see her toss him across the room so many time. The episode also reuses an earlier gag about the gong that summons Lurch being out-of-order. While not the best episode to take the series out on, it does end up resolving Ophelia's character arc. The final scene sees her musical career working out, despite her continued habit of scaring off men. That's nice. [6/10]

As with America's other light-hearted family of gothic horrors, the abruptly canceled “The Addams Family” would have a fruitful afterlife in reruns. The characters' cultural legacy has proven far greater. A guest spot on “The New Scooby-Doo Movies” in 1972 led to a short-lived animated adaptation the next year. The 1991 big screen adaptation and its beloved sequel would also beget a Saturday morning cartoon tie-in. Those two films received a terrible direct-to-video sequel of sorts, which operated as a quasi-pilot for a short-lived revival series that I've never seen a single soul express any fondness for. There was a successful Broadway musical, two animated features of forgettable quality, multiple video games, the best selling pinball machine of all time, and lots of merch. Through it all, the Addams remain pop culture icons, perennial Halloween costume favorites, and a massive influence on goth fashion. The sardonic film version of Gomez and Morticia's daughter becoming an inspirational figure for a whole generation of dry-witted young women and guys who want a pale, dark-haired girlfriend led to Wednesday more recently getting her own streaming series. That has been very successful, meaning the Addams – or Wednesday at least – are more popular now than ever.

But what about the old TV show? As someone who grew up with the edgier Barry Sonnefield films, I believe I do prefer my Addamses to be a little more evil than the goof-ball sixties sitcom. The show relied on the same set of running gags more often than would probably be preferable. It got downright repetitive by the end of the second season. Which isn't to say I didn't enjoy the television program a lot. John Astin and Carolyn Jones remained delightful presences throughout with red hot chemistry. The entire cast become quite lovable by the end, despite certain family members never being utilized as much as they could. The episodes focused solely on the family, rather than contrasting them with squeamish “normal” folks or involved them in convoluted sitcom shenanigans, were the best. I think “The Munsters” is still my preference, as it was a funnier show on the overall. Still, I loved chilling with the Addams

Halloween 2024: October 14th

Mr. Vampire (1985)

Geung see sin sang

I'm not going to lie to you guys. I first learned what a jiang-shi is thanks to Hsien-Ko in the "Darkstalkers" video games. I wasn't always as big of a folklore nerd as I am today. I'm sure that character – who is awfully adorable for being a rigor-mortis infused, qi sucking, hopping corpse – was a lot of western people's introduction to the concept, a figure in Chinese ghost stories comparable to the Eastern vampire or zombie. Of course, the reason Capcom thought to put a jiang-shi into their monster fighting video game series is because they were a common presence in eighties Hong Kong martial arts movies. The visual clichés of the creature were solidified then: The Qing dynasty era burial robes, the paper with holy symbols stuck to their heads, the stiff-armed and hopping gait, the blueish grey skin and little fangs. While Sammo Hung reintroduced the concept to Hong Kong cinema in 1980's "Encounters of the Spooky Kind," it was 1985's "Mr. Vampire" that truly kicked off a wave of martial arts horror/comedies about the monsters. The film – which Hung produced – spawned several sequels and a whole batch of imitators, making these distinctive Chinese ghouls a prominent part of the international mythic bestiary. 

In the early days of Republic-era China, Master Kau uses Taoist magic to relocate corpses to new graves for rich clients who hope to please the spirits of their ancestors. The reanimated bodies are kept under control by magic scrolls glued to their foreheads. Otherwise, they would become wild, breath-sucking jiang-shi. Kau's clownish assistants, Man-choi and Chau-sang, often get into mischief. The group is hired to relocate the ancestor of a rich businessman, Mister Yam. Kau is distressed to find the body hasn't decayed in twenty years, a sign that it's going to become a vampire. Kau attempts to keep the hostile spirit under control but Man-choi and Chau-sang's incompetency soon leads to the hopping vampire getting loose. The group attempts to get the supernatural terror back under control. Romantic rivalries, more magic, a horny ghost, and lots of kung-fu ensues. 

As with "Encounters of the Spooky Kind," "Mr. Vampire" is a loosely plotted film, with intervening subplots and set pieces that don't have much to do with the primary story. Man Choi seems to be attracted to Mr. Yam's daughter – the debut role of future action star Moon Lee – while her military officer cousin also pursues her. This leads to a slapstick sequence where Man Choi uses magic to manipulate the officer's body and humiliate him. A lengthy subplot involves Chau-sang falling under the sway of a female ghost, whose frantic lovemaking threatens to exhaust him to death. She's introduced in a musical number, where she attempts to hitch a ride on the young man's bicycle. That leads to a wild sequence where Master Kau has to fight off the spirit, which results in her hair turning into spikes and her head floating around the room. Later, Man Choi is bitten by the jiang-shi and must hold off the transformation by constantly dancing on a bed of glutinous rice. (Which seems to have a similar effect on these Eastern vampires as garlic does to European ones.) None of these plot threads or sequences have much to do with the story of the leaping vampire getting loose. This results in "Mr. Vampire" playing a lot like a gag comedy, the main narrative being nothing but a clothes line to hang a series of increasingly outrageous stunts and jokes on. 

And when those stunts and jokes are this entertaining, who can complain? As in many of the films of Hung, Jackie Chan, and their collaborators at Golden Harvest, "Mr. Vampire" smoothly combines acrobatic martial arts and physical slapstick comedy. The action scenes are endlessly inventive and fast paced, constantly showing off the skills of these performers. A sequence where Kau and his students ensnare the vampire with a net of enchanted thread is fantastic, playing out like an elaborate ballet of stunt work and action. The finale features Chin Siu-ho, as Chau-sang, effortlessly running up walls, leaping over props, and using chairs and tables as weapons. An earlier scene, where the hero is nearly branded and has to juggle the buffoonish police officer while fighting off another revenant, shows off how adapt the movie is at getting both thrills and laughs out of these action scenes. Mostly because the film is equally good at both elements. An earlier scene, where Chau-sang mistakes the daughter for a prostitute, got a lot of laughs out of me. As did the Marx Brothers-esque bodily possession sequence. The totally physical performance does lead to a few overbearing gags. Ricky Hui mugs furiously as Man Choi, especially during an inexplicable moment of homophobic gaggery. Overall though, the stunts and comedy work perfectly in sync to create a consistently entertaining motion picture. 

As a light-hearted monster movie, "Mr. Vampire" is a lot of fun too. Director Ricky Lau and cinematographer Peter Ngor make a good looking film. The nights are beautifully dark, often cast in gorgeous shades of blue and dark green. Many of the sets and locations have a charming artificial quality to them, the film fully transporting the viewer into its fantasy land. Mostly, I came away from the movie understanding why the jiang-shi would become such a pop culture icon after this. The stiff-limbed movement of the vampires is such a cool visual, an interesting physical stunt and a fittingly uncanny feature. These vampiric creatures hunt by sensing people's breath, leading to several mildly suspenseful scenes of people holding their breath while the monster hovers near-by. Yuen Wah, another member of Chan/Hung's troupe, plays the main jiang-shi and his make-up gets more beastly as the film goes on. The ghost scenes are also a hoot, featuring bizarre special effects and visually inventive camera work. I don't know if it's ever scary, exactly, but "Mr. Vampire" maintains a spooky, kooky tone throughout that is perfect for the Halloween season. 

A wild horror/comedy circus of a film, "Mr. Vampire" rarely slows down. Something crazy, cool, or funny is happening on-screen nearly every minute of its runtime. Lam Ching-ying, as Master Kau, remains an ideal straight man throughout and somehow manages to make a unibrow intimidating. Much the same way "Encounters of the Spooky Kind" did, the movie gets right into the action and ends the minute after the threat is resolved. I've got to respect economic storytelling like that. "Mr. Vampire" is considerably smoother than Hung's earlier supernatural kung-fu comedy, with more likable characters, funnier gags, and cooler gimmicks. In other words, this is the stuff of cult movie legend and exactly the kind of third-eye stimulating madness I seek in Hong Kong movies. After years of grainy bootlegs and subpar releases, the movie finally has a lovingly restored Blu-ray release, so check it out right away. [9/10]

Bleeders (1997)

Who mourns for the VHS gimmick box? If you're of the right age, to have wandered video stores during their hay days, you know what I'm talking about. In the eighties and nineties, any goofy feature on the VHS box, to make your title leap off the shelves at customers, was a worthwhile investment. Horror movies were especially fond of these. Boxes with embossed covers or lenticular holograms were always a good bet. Some went further and decorated their cardboard sleeved with monsters with blinking eyes, monsters that roared, or monsters that propositioned you. Low-budget Canadian horror movie "Hemoglobin" was written by the same team who made "Alien," based on a story by H.P. Lovecraft, and starred Rutger Hauer. You'd have thought that would've been enough to sell the movie but its distributor had another thought. They cut out four minutes of nudity, retitled the film "Bleeders," and stuck a plastic sleeve full of squishy fake blood on the front of the box. Maybe this was the right instinct because, seventeen years later, that box gimmick is still the main thing people remember about this movie. 

Three hundred years ago, the Van Daam family got kicked out of Holland because they loved incest too much. The family eventually settled on an island in the Northern Americas. In the modern day, last of the bloodline John Strauss arrives on the island in hopes of finding an answer to the mysterious blood disease that is slowly killing him. Instead, he finds a dead end small town where the biggest new story is that the local cemetery is being dug up, due to cheap coffins causing bodies to fall out... That's what everyone in town thinks is happening. In fact, a clan of inbred, mutant dwarfs live under the island and have been feeding on the town's dead bodies for centuries. Now that their food supply is being removed, the monsters are coming above ground for fresher meat. John Strauss, his devoted wife, and the alcoholic town doctor investigate and discover that John has a very predictable connection to these damnable creatures.

Loosely adapting Lovecraft's "The Lurking Fear," "Bleeders" does show some of the author's favorite themes poking through. Such as the curse of a degenerate family bloodline dooming the protagonist to an ultimately inhuman existence, grave robbing ghoul monsters, and old legends in burned down homes. Unfortunately, the film follows another one of Lovecraft's recurring tropes too closely. Namely, a protagonist who is a totally inept dork. John Strauss spends most of the movie in a sickly stupor, his nose frequently gushing blood, and often falling unconscious. His voice is spaced out, he speaks of insatiable urges, and generally acts like a weirdo. It's hard to believe his wife would be so totally devoted to him. When the easily foreseen truth about John's genetic destiny is revealed, the character falls into more disturbing behavior. That could've made for an interestingly sordid story of a descent into depravity. However, Roy Dupuis as John and Kristin Lehman as his wife both give such unlikable performances. Dupuis is stilted, Lehman is somehow both blank and overemotive. They share zero chemistry, no matter how much graphic humping they do in the uncut version. Their tragic love story is played as contrived melodrama, leading to a thoroughly unconvincing final moment. 

Bafflingly, the story of the Strausses digging up his horrible family history often feels like it's playing alongside an almost unrelated second movie. Much like Full Moon's "Lurking Fear" from three years earlier, "Bleeders" is also a schlocky monster movie about a small town being overwhelmed by cannibalistic underground humanoid dwellers. The creature effects that bring the deformed ghouls to life aren't bad, their hunched and tumorous bodies being properly grotesque. Scenes devoted to the creature surfacing, attacking people at the docks, yanking victims through open graves, or pulling little girls underground is when "Bleeders" is at its most lively. This element peaks early, when Hauer's doctor enters into the tunnels under the cemetery. After a hurricane blows in and everyone takes shelter in the town lighthouse, "Bleeders" becomes a repetitive siege picture. Tension free attack scenes continue until the movie blusters towards an underwhelming climax. 

In general, "Bleeders" is a movie with an off-balance tone. The musical score is composed of Indian sitar music and wailing guitars that would be more at home in a Skinnemax erotic thriller. The film has the plot of a low-brow creature feature but approaches everything with deadly seriousness. For an example of that, it opens and closes with comically self-serious narration. This conflicts with the characters, most of whom are written as cartoonish assholes. The married couple stay at a hotel which also functions as the town mortuary. The woman who runs the place is utterly obnoxious, while her daughter is so soft-spoken as to barely exist. While hanging around the burned house, John encounters an old woman in a wheelchair who speaks with a hilariously exaggerated Mainer accent. The little kids and fishermen around town are all played in this weirdly broad manner. The only actor in the film, perhaps unsurprisingly, that strikes the right balance of camp and gravitas is Rutger Hauer. The scene where he performs an autopsy on one of the creatures, dryly commenting on its hermaphroditic nature, is the highlight of the movie. When Hauer announces to everyone in town what's happening, it's the right kind of campy exuberance that this movie needed significantly more of. Always a pro and a joy to watch, Hauer manages to wring something like actual pathos out of his character's standard backstory of alcoholism and failure. (Delivered minutes after he's introduced.) Really, if the movie had been completely about him and cut out the married couple entirely, it easily would've been improved. 

Depressingly, this would be the final screenwriting credit of Dan O'Bannon and Ronald Shusett in the former's lifetime. Considering the quality of the duo's output, and the obvious respect O'Bannon had for Lovecraft, it's difficult to believe "Bleeders" represents their original screenplay too much. I guess that's the difference between getting a Ridley Scott or Paul Verhoven to direct your script versus getting the guy who made "Witchboard III" to direct your script. Having now seen the film, I actually understand exactly why the distributors threw a cheap Halloween decoration on the box to help sell the movie. Despite its strong pedigree, "Bleeders" is a limp mess. It's held back by a weirdly split story structure, unappealing characters, and a general lack of dramatic tension in its execution. Lumpy, formaldehyde-slurping, subterranean hermaphrodites and a boozy Rutger Hauer go a long way but it's not enough to salvage this forgettable feature. [5/10]

Strange Frequency: Soul Man

Owing to shared custody weekends with my dad, and his Carl-like taste in music, I watched a lot of VH1 during 2001. Based on the success of shows like "Behind the Music" and "Storytellers," the network was continuing to drift away from just playing music videos into more music-adjacent programming at that time. They started to produce scripted movies and shows too. Such as "Strange Frequency," which was described as "the rock 'n' roll version of the Twilight Zone." Beginning as a TV film, thirteen half-hour episodes would spawn from the premise. I never watched it at the time but, considering the amount of folklore around the music world, it always struck me as a good idea for an anthology. 

"Soul Man" revolves around Mitch, a much abused roadie for temperamental rock star Jason Armstrong. He also lusts after Nicole, his boss' main squeeze. While looking to replace a broken guitar, Mitch stumbles upon a piece of music written in blood. It's supposedly the last song composed by Jimi Hendrix, on the night he died. Legend has it that playing it successfully can summon the devil. Mitch does so and, afterwards, is approached by a manager from Iscariot Productions. Later that night, Jason injures his hand and Mitch is asked to fill in for him. The resulting concert turns Mitch into a star overnight and wins Nicole's heart. That's when he figures out who his manager actually is. Soon, the shredding roadie is in a contest for his very soul. 

There's no rock legend more persistent than musicians selling their souls to the Devil for talent and success. This might be because signing contracts with record companies already feels like a Faustian bargain. (An observation made many times before, in classics such as "Phantom of the Paradise.") "Soul Man" – a clever title, I'll admit – is a standard take on this premise. After signing with his new manager, Mitch stumbles into success without realizing what he's gotten himself into. However, probably owing to "Strange Frequency's" low budget, the episode can't explore this idea too thoroughly. Mitch goes from his incredible first concert to a moral questioning immediately in the next scene. The only bad thing that happens is Nicole getting pushed aside by a wave of shrieking groupies. The middle act feels like it's missing, the episode heading right into the climax of a "Devil Went Down to Georgia"-style duel. Which is set in the same music store location we saw earlier, one of seemingly three sets in the entire episode. 

The script is rushed. The budget is low. There's a lot of close-ups of someone's fingers rockin' on the guitar, while the actor's faces appear in a totally different shot. Despite its obvious flaws, I still kind of liked "Soul Man." Mostly because of its leads. Roger Daltry acts as both the show's host and plays the Devil. Probably because I watched too much "Highlander: The Series" as a kid, I'm abnormally fond of Daltry as an actor. The devil is exactly the kind of hammy role he excels in. He even gets to put on a hick accent in the double role of the music store owner. James Marsters, "Buffy's" Spike, is serviceable enough as Mitch. We only see a little bit of his considerable charm here, stuck in a fairly one-note part. It's also funny that the show so obviously uses a double for the guitar playing scenes, when Marsters is actually a decent guitarist in real life. Maybe I'm nostalgic for pre-9/11 basic cable schlock like this – check out the low-rise jeans the girls wear – but I kind of enjoyed "Soul Man." I would've much preferred VH1 pivot to shit like this than reality TV trash. I hear there's an episode with Eric Roberts as a murderous hippie? Oh sweet Satan, help me resist. [6/10]

The Merry Frolics of Satan (1906)

Les quatre cents farces du diable

French magician turned cinematic pioneer Georges Méliès probably created the first horror film, 1896's “Le Manoir du Diable.” That short was simply about the devil pranking a guy inside a spooky house. Méliès would expand on this theme all throughout his career, the concept reaching perhaps its most ambitious form with 1906's “The Merry Frolics of Satan.” Two gentlemen visit an alchemist, who gives them a pill that he promises can grant any wish they might have. The two men request to travel around the entire world within a few minutes. Little do they know that the alchemist is actually the devil himself. They conjure a magical train that takes them all around Europe but each destination is fraught with misfortune, imps usually appearing to ruin whatever good time the two are attempting to have. After a calamitous journey through the heavens on a carriage pulled by a phantom horse, the devil whisks his victim away to the inferno below where he roasts him over a fire on a rotating spit. 

Méliès made what are often known as “trick shorts,” little films devoted to nothing more than displaying camera tricks and simple contraptions to achieve the earliest possible version of cinematic special effects. This meant they were light on narrative. “The Merry Frolics of Satan,” at 22 minutes long, is among  Méliès' longest works. That doesn't mean it has much more in the way of narrative. This is essentially a series of set pieces, the travelers beset by a new supernatural mishap everywhere they go. Every scene features some loopy slapstick, usually achieve through large paper prop interacting with the actors. This results in scenes of people being knocked about by an enormous telescope or a phantom hand. Or a lengthy sequence of a set of briefcase being unfolded into the miniature train. That stunt is topped later, during a scene where rampaging imps and a pair of monkeys fold up the tables and chairs people are dining on and yanking them away.

There might not be much story here, merely a comedic condensation of the Faustian moral of “Never bargain with the devil.” However, the style is the point with  Méliès' films. The special effects are crude by modern standards. Most of the unusual faces and props are nothing more than elaborate pieces of wood or paper, that fold in on themselves. The trap doors from which objects emerge and disappear are never disguised. In effect, however, it makes for an enchanting visual appearance. Many scenes were colored-in by hand, creating a surreal appearance resembling a child's activity book. Similarly, the playfulness on display is incredibly charming, even 128 years later. The skeleton horse pulling the celestial carriage kicks its feet in the air. Leering faces appear among the stars. Dancing girls do a kick line after our doomed hero arrives in Hell.  Méliès was having so much fun bringing these incredible visuals to life for the first time. He made that clear by casting himself as Satan, the mischievous overseer of all this mayhem. The result is a piece of cinematic magic that still impresses over a century after it was first put to celluloid. [8/10]

Halloween 2023: October 22nd

The Last House on the Left (1972)

Part of me is sad that Wes Craven and David Hess didn't live long enough to see "Last House on the Left" turn fifty years old. They certainly did get to see their gritty, grimy, low budget exploitation movie turn into a box office success and spawn a number of even sleazier imitators. Though it initially derailed Craven's career, he obviously went on to become one of the most iconic filmmakers in the whole genre. (And Hess did okay for himself too.) In time, "Last House on the Left" even became respected, which was surely impossible to imagine in 1972. Yet, fifty years after the fact, it's a set-in-stone cult classic, recognized as one of those movies that singled a tide change in the genre. Which is quite unexpected when you compare the film's reputation — and glossy remake — to its extremely low budget, even frequently clumsy actual quality. Let's get back on the road that leads to nowhere and reconsider "Last House," my first viewing of this motion picture in many years.

On the eve of her seventeenth birthday, Mari Collingwood journeys with her friend, Phyllis, to her rock concert. At home, Mari's loving parents, Estelle and John, prepare for their daughter's return. It's destined not to be. While looking to buy pot, Mari and Phyllis are abducted by sadistic criminal Krug and his gang of psychos. They take the girls into the forest, sexually assault and humiliate them, before murdering both. By some sad coincidence of fate, the murderous quartet stop at the Collingwood home to spend the night. When the parents realize that these are the people who have destroyed their daughter, they enact brutal, bloody revenge.

"The Last House on the Left" is a film of its time. By summoning the ideas in the air in 1972, Craven created a death knell for the peace and love decade. The script is awash in signifiers of the hippy era. Mari wears a peace sign necklace, discards her bra as a symbol of women's lib, and seeks out weed as a natural course of the evening. Yet her and Phyllis are out to see an Alice Cooper-like shock rock group called Bloodlust — a grim precursor of what's to come — which is the first sign that this is not a hippy flick. Krug and his gang look like hippies too, especially his junkie son. Yet the quartet more resemble Charles Manson's family, in the way a sociopathic patriarch holds sway over shaggy followers. Jeramie Rain, who plays psycho Sadie, even previously appeared as one of the Manson girls. In "Last House," drugs do not free the mind but enslave the body, as Krug keeps Junior pliable with dope. There is no free love here, only violation. The deaths of innocents like Mari and Phyllis represents the most unavoidable hint that the peace movements had failed: The protracted end of the Vietnam War. This was Craven's high-minded goal. To bring the violence home, to have the desecration of life happen right in our backyard. This makes the most well-known title — chosen after several others were discarded and against Craven's wishes — fitting. The last house on the left could be your house. It could be any house, in any American neighborhood.

That "Last House" contains potent ideas like this is honestly surprising. This is an astonishingly crude movie in many ways. Craven and Sean Cunningham came from the world of pornography and “Last House” was originally conceived as a hardcore movie. On an aesthetic level, porn is what the film resembles. The camera work is rough. The editing is rougher. Even the most cleaned-up Blu-Ray prints look grainy. The hippy-dippy soundtrack jives weirdly with what's happening on screen. The acting is stilted from almost the entire cast, with Marc Sheffler as Junior giving by-far the most awkward performance. The most prominent evidence that Craven and his crew barely knew what they were doing is the comic relief. Often, the movie will cut away – even from the horrible torture of the girls – to a pair of buffoonish cops. (One played by a young Martin Kove.) They bumble through a number of clownish scenarios, involving chickens or jeering hippies. These scenes absolutely feel like something that would fill the minutes between fuckings in “The Pig Keeper's Daughter” or “Prison Girls.” 

No matter how shoddy the film's production values and techniques are, “Last House on the Left” still proves to be a disquieting viewing experience. Krug is a ridiculous character, so comically evil that hooking his own son on junk ranks as his least villainous action. Yet, when he's in the woods for Mari and Phyllis, holding court with his band of equally deranged followers, he's an utterly intimidating figure. The cruelty he enacts on the girls feels distressingly real. The infamous “piss your pants” scene, when he carves his name into Phyllis' skin, or forces the girls to make-out for his amusement, are all things an actual sexual sadist son-of-a-bitch would actually do. The movie still sure as hell makes you feel like you need to take a shower afterwards. The gore is crude but convincing. The hopeless feeling present at the end leaves an impression. Even if its flaws are more evident than ever, “Last House” does have power. You feel like something extremely dark was being exorcised during the making of this one.

Wes Craven was an English professor before becoming a filmmaker, which is evident all throughout his career. Even though Craven started movies in the gutter – which is certainly where this one feels like it emerged – he still packed “Last House' will high-minded idea. It is, after all, a loose remake of Bergman's “The Virgin Spring.” Their daughter's killer showing up at the Collingwood's home is the sort of dramatic irony a writer appreciates. Craven, always fascinated by the family unit, cooks these themes into the film as well. Certain parallels and differences are drawn between Krug's brood and the Collingwoods. While the criminals are too depraved to ever be anti-heroes, their acts of violence against richer family could be read as an act of class revolution. That layered approach is also clear in the film's hopeless ending, expressing a theme about the uselessness of revenge. Craven's ambitions doubtlessly exceeded his resources. Yet “Last House's” jabs at artistry are sometimes effective, such as the haunting sequence of Mari descending into a lake before Krug shoots her. 

It's often been said that “The Last House on the Left” feels like a documentary or a snuff film, which overstates the movie's realism. It's too ramshackle a production for that to be true, the acting too unbelievable. Craven would improve drastically in his future films, with “The Hills Have Eyes” expanding on many of these same themes in a far more effective way. Yet Craven and his cohorts still make a shocking, upsetting movie that is far smarter than its appearance suggest. Brutal enough to make the controversy that greeted it understandable, and with enough substance to more than justify its cult following, the grimy, unsettling power of “The Last House on the Left” can still be felt fifty years after it was made. [7/10]

Split Second (1992)

Rutger Hauer's career as an action hero has always struck me as kind of funny. It's not that he couldn't do it. He had the striking good looks and more than enough charisma to pull it off. Yet, even when he was in leading men roles, the quirky heart of a character actor clearly beat within. This was a guy meant to star in Dutch art movies, not a big screen reboot of "Wanted: Dead or Alive." Yet Hauer, his agent, or some misguided studio exec really gave it a shot. Some good movies emerged out of this portion of Hauer's career, though few connected with audiences. One such example is "Split Second," an oddball sci-fi/action/horror hybrid that has managed to gain a small following in the years since. 

In the far-flung future year of 2008, global warming has caused many portions of Great Britain to become flooded, while smog chokes the sky. Dysfunctional detective Harley Stone prowls the watery streets in search of the lunatic who killed his partner. After nearly catching the murderer, who has a habit of ripping people's hearts out, Stone is assigned a partner, a specialist in abnormal psychology named Dick Durkin. As Stone and Durkin investigate the case more, they realize the killer isn't human but a demonic monster.

In many ways, “Split Second” is not an atypical example of an action movie for the early nineties. The film is buddy cop movie, which had largely become the default for this genre by this point. Stone is a loose cannon, cowboy cop who is constantly in shit with the chief, who has no regard for the rules, and is fond of oversized firearms. He's rumored to have a drinking problem too, due to his traumatic past. Even the fact that his partner is dead reads like something of a cliché. Hauer is given a token love interest, in the form of Kim Catrell playing his dead partner's widow that he has an on-off thing with. She exists primarily to get imperiled and captured in the last act. That's because Stone's real love interest is Durkin. The two can't stand each other at first, Stone totally resenting having a by-the-book hanger-on around. Yet the two quickly begin to rely on each other, Stone's wild card tendencies rubbing off on Durkin and the duo getting the job done together. There's even casual homoeroticism, like Durkin offering to rub Stone's shoulders. That seemingly every character in the movie is dressed in studded leather points towards a queer undercurrent as well.

In other ways, “Split Second” is an excessively quirky take on your usual eighties/nineties action flick. The water-logged sci-fi setting, the global warming element being quite ahead-of-the-curve for 1992, barely factors into the story at all. Hauer, meanwhile, does everything he can to make Stone as much of a weirdo as possible. When the character is introduced calling a guard dog “a dickhead,” which he does repeatedly, is a good sign that this hero is an oddball. He subsists solely on coffee, cigarettes, and chocolate. The character regularly has panic attacks, as a result of the lingering trauma from his partner's death. At one point, Stone wakes up from a nap with a pigeon sitting on his head. Even the seemingly straight-laced partner is offbeat too. Hauer speaks largely in sarcastic one-liners while bringing a lot of wide-eyed intensity to the part. Durkin, as played by a deadpan Neil Duncan, makes repeated references to marathon sex sessions with his girlfriend. There's just so many touches of weirdo personality in the movie like that. 

The action genre had become so over-the-top by 1992 that it's hard to say if “Split Second's” many quirky touches were an intentional exaggeration or not. Do the heroes tear walls and rooms apart with massively over-sized guns because the writing is a tongue-in-cheek exaggeration? Or had this kind of thing been done so many times before by this point, that playing stuff this big was necessary for distinction? Either way, “Split Second's” horror elements do further distinguish the movie.  The monster, which looks like a cross between a Xenomoprh and Venom, is never actually explained. The creature carves occult symbols into his victims' bodies or leaves them in blood at the crime scenes. The beast is repeatedly linked to rats. As much as this points towards a Satanic origin for the monster, it also has a science-fiction element, being an amalgamation of the DNA of everyone it's killed or attacked. Strangest yet, none of this stuff is ever explained. “Split Second” is an over-the-top action flick, with a sci-fi setting, and a slimy latex monster for its villain and none of this disparate ingredients are ever linked. 

It's unsurprising to read that “Split Second” had a messy production. The script was being rewritten all throughout filming. Director Tony Maylam, previously of “The Burning,” stepped away late in production. This might explain why certain details here are left unexplained and the ending is rather abrupt. Despite these mishaps, the movie is too fucking weird not to be consistently entertaining. There's an explosion, a shoot-out, a monster attack, a bizarre character detail, or an unexpected bit of world-building every minute. “Split Second” was a box office failure in 1992, which was blamed on the movie opening during the L.A. riots. Yet it's hard to imagine a film equal parts derivative and off-the-walls like this ever being a hit. Thankfully for cult movie aficionados like me, it became a common fixture in video stores. Give it a look, if you're a fan of bullshit like this. [7/10]

Creeped Out: A Boy Called Red

“Creeped Out,” BBC's kid-friendly strange stories anthology, would tackle the premise of time travel with “A Boy Called Red.” Vincent has a tense relationship with his dad, who doesn't seem to like him very much. They travel back to his dad's childhood home, still owned by his Aunt Jean. There's an old well outside the house, which Vincent's dad is frightened off. When he was Vincent's age, his best friend was a boy named Red who fell into the well to his apparent death. While exploring the house, Vincent comes across a strange glowing orb. This transports him back to his father's childhood, where the two bond over a love of video games. Vincent doesn't tell the young version of his dad his name... So he starts calling “Red.” 

The opening narration of “A Boy Called Red” presents the same idea that “Back to the Future” was powered by: Would you be friends with your parents, if you knew them at the same age? It's a fruitful premise, though I wish “A Boy Called Red” delved into it a little more. As an adult, Vincent's dad is grumpy and morose. As a boy, he has a stutter and fixates on beating the high score in “Asteroids.” Eventually, the script links all of the father's later problems in life to the trauma of seeing his childhood best friend die. This is certainly an understandable reaction, though one that is perhaps oversimplified. Vincent's actions in the past result in a super-happy, overly neat conclusion that I didn't much care for. I guess, since this is a kid's show, that's an A-to-B path for psychological trauma is about what kids could understand. But I wish the script cooked a little more ambiguity into things.

As for the creepiness factor, “A Boy Called Red” is light on that. The glowing orb that transports Vincent through time is never explained. Its introduction in the dusty basement is mildly spooky. I wish more was done with the derelict old well, which ends up having more of an incidental role in the plot than anything else. Malen Clarkson is a bit too stiff in the lead role but I do like the chemistry he has with Boris Burnell Anderson as the adult version of his father. Especially when they bond over playing Atari. Still, this episode is far more cute than horrific. It seems like I'm not going to find an episode of “Creeped Out” as creepy as “The Many Places” any time soon. Though it's still a lot more subtle than “Goosebumps” or “Are You Afraid of the Dark?” [6/10] 

Out of Town (1989)

Here's another obscure short I stumbled onto thanks to Letterboxd, from filmmaker Norman Hull and starring a young David Morrissey. “Out of Town” follows a young man as he goes for a walk in the English countryside. Alongside a muddy, gravel road, he gets his foot stuck in a hole. Frustratingly, nobody stops to assist him. In fact, the people (and animals) who do notice him seem to actively scorn him, either attacking him or hurling insults his way. This goes on for hours, the man becoming hungry and cold out in the elements. When someone finally does appear to help him out, they are quickly run over by a passing car. Somehow, this situation is only going to get worse before it's over.

“Out of Town” has a potent thread of existential horror in it. The idea of getting your foot stuck in a hole is such a simple premise, anyone can imagine that. It's also not scary taken on its own. However, the idea that no one would stop to help you is what makes this idea subtly terrifying. That your fellow man could be so callous, to act as if you don't exist, and for no discernible reason, is the kind of idea that gets under your skin. Imagine that: You're just trying to go on a walk and suffer what should be a minor inconvenience. Instead, it becomes life threatening. There's also a degree of absurd comedy to “Out of Town,” as the premise is so simple, yet so potent, that it could easily have arisen from a dream. This is emphasized by the to-the-point direction and cinematography, focused on Morrissey's face and the desolate environment. 

We never do find out why the locals are being so cruel to Morrissey's character. The biggest hint we get is in the title. “Out of Town” is a distillation of one of horror's favorite trope, of the city slicker outsider wandering into the place where he doesn't belong. We can tell Morrissey is an urbanite based on his clothing and his ever-present cassette player around his head, which is a nice use of visual storytelling. All the fear of being an outsider in a strange land are boiled down to its most basic fear, of not being treated like a human simply based on how you look. That the only person that helps the protagonist is a black man reveals this as a subtle commentary on racism. Which seems deliberate to me, though the final scene moves this even further into absurd, nightmarish, unexplained horror. That's a hell of a note to take this potent ten minutes out on. [7/10]