Halloween 2025: September 3rd

 

Death of a Unicorn (2025)

Long ago, longer now than it seems, "Cabin in the Woods" featured a murderous unicorn. It was a great gag but did make one wonder: Can the unicorn be a movie monster? The modern conception – a majestic white horse with a single golden horn – is most associated with little girls, the queer community, and anything colorful, graceful, and pure-of-heart. This represents a flattening of the weirder creature found in classical mythology. One-horned ungulates first appeared on pottery from the Indus Valley around 2000 BC. In 70 AD, Pliny the Elder included the "monoceros" among the wildlife of India. This was an animal with the body of a horse, the head of a stag, the feet of an elephant, a boar's tail, and a long black horn emerging from its forehead. Descriptions of unicorns as fearsome, uncatchable beasts that healed the sick and purified water with its horn were common by medieval times. Something closer to the modern version emerges then, usually depicted as a white horse or goat with cloven hooves, a long tail, a beard, and a narwhal tusk growing from its skull. Stories and tapestries depicted the unicorn as an untamable, violent beast whose wild heart could only be soothed by a virginal maiden. This narrative – the fearsome unicorn pursued by man in his greed, captured by the fair lady, killed and then miraculously revived – proliferated as a parable for Christ's crucifixion, resurrection, and bond with the Holy Virgin. The latter most story inspired filmmaker Alex Scharfman to write "Death of a Unicorn." It was A24's quirkier horror project earlier this year and, despite some soft reviews, I wanted to catch up with it.

Widower lawyer Elliot Kinter and his teenage daughter, Ridley, drive through a mountainous nature preserve on the way to the estate of Odell Leopold. The CEO of a powerful pharmaceutical company, Odell has secluded himself in his villa – with his wife Belinda and idiot son Shep – as he dies of cancer. Elliot has been summoned to sort out Odell's affairs. On the drive-up, he strikes an animal with his car. It looks a lot like a white horse with a single golden horn. Both Elliot and Ridley get splattered with the creature's blue blood. Only after the animal has to be killed by Leopold's head of security do Elliot and Ridley noticed that their ailments – her acme, his nearsightedness – have been healed. Realizing what they have, Odell injects the blood and regains his health. The Leopolds immediately go about trying to turn this miracle cure into their next million dollar drug. Ridley, who grasped the animal's horn and received a vision, believes it is a mythological unicorn... And that the medieval legends of the creature are far more dangerous than those around her realize. It's not long before the parents of the young unicorn, vicious and determined, come to retrieve the corpse of their off-spring. 

“Death of a Unicorn” is faithful to the medieval morality tales it invokes. It is an updating of what you might call a fairy tale, in the Grimm Brothers' sense. This is a story where the wicked are punished and the virtuous prevail. Setting such a story among pharmaceutical company CEOs led to some complaints that the film is ham-fisted. Maybe but those that seek to profit off the sick and dying, bleeding them dry with criminally high prices, while patting themselves on the back for “helping the world” deserve all the comical scorn they can get. Leopold is a cartoonishly evil capitalist. His son is a moronic spoiled brat, with no actual talents aside from a prodigious hunger for drugs. His wife whitewashes her reputation at the right hand of evil through a charitable foundation. They abuse and ignore Griff, a faithful family servant. The doctors and scientists have moral concerns but always kowtow to their corporate overlords.They all get what's coming to them before “Death of a Unicorn” is over. You can definitely argue that some of Scharfman's gags are a little too broad. Shep's fondness for mind-altering substances results in bigger and crazier jokes that might be a little too goofy. However, for the most part, I enjoyed the cultural satire at work here. If the last decade has taught us nothing else, it's that the avarice and conceited stupidity of the billionaire ruling class is beyond parody. 

Scharfman is not subtle about his influence. He includes repeated shout-outs to “Aliens,” in the teenage daughter's name and multiple sequence of hunters being tracked by their prey. Spielberg was obviously on his mind as well, “Death of a Unicorn” recalling “Jurassic Park” more the longer it goes on. In fact, the movie strikes me as rather Amblin-esque. The opening shot of the film is of Ridley falling asleep on her dad's shoulders, which he moves away from in pursuit of a contract on the floor. Throughout the film, Elliot references how much money he can earn from this deal, in order to provide a future for his daughter. Like Peter Pan in “Hook,” and the workaholic parents in a dozen other family flicks, Elliot is fixated on money and his job. He uses this as a placeholder for the obvious emotional chasm between him and his daughter, as a way to avoid grappling with the grief of his wife's death. Naturally, through the events of the film, Elliot will reconnect with his daughter. I think the script takes it too easy on the dad, who is often far more emotionally clueless than any parent should be and far too complacent in other blatantly evil acts. However, if you can buy into the gulf between father and daughter here, the emotional arc of “Death of a Unicorn” is surprisingly heartfelt and sincere. 

As someone obviously way too invested in folklore, I found myself hoping “Death of a Unicorn” would lean into the weirder medieval conceptions of its titular beast. I'm happy to report that the unicorns here have the whipping tails and billy goat beards, with the welcomed addition of serrated fangs. The script does not stray far from the mythological roots. The cycle of death and  resurrection, and the creatures' irresistible connection to a virgin maiden, are well represented. Perhaps the film can be criticized for merely doing the stuff it's already told us its going to do. Sure. At the same time, a lot of fun is had contrasting the modern idea of unicorns as magical friends to all children and their wilder roots. There's quite a lot of impalings with those single horns, the script repeatedly finding clever new ways to have the creatures gorily execute the film's villains. That includes some disemboweling and head-crushing too. If you can't have fun with that stuff, I guess you and I simply have different ideas of what's entertaining.

It also helps that “Death of a Unicorn” has a stacked cast. This is one of those films that fills its ranks with beloved character actors and stars and allows them to play totally to type. Richard E, Grant is hilariously despicable as Leopold, digging into much of his dialogue with the kind of vigor he excels at. Will Poulter plays Shep as a bumbling golden child and manages to wring repeated laughs out of the selfish behavior and dopey dialogue he's given. Anthony Carrigan is often hilarious as Griff, the most put-upon of put-upon butlers in recent memory. Jenna Ortega plays another alienated teenager struggling to connect emotionally with their parent. It's a role she's quickly getting typecast in but she does go through the beats nicely. Paul Rudd enters the film looking like the Angry Video Game Nerd.and probably gives the silliest performance, with a few too many obvious quirks for the character to register as a real person. Still, Rudd has an affable screen presence that eventually wins you over. 

Larry Fong, Zack Snyder's go-to cinematographer, creates some lovely visuals. The sweeping mountain setting and meticulously designed sets are beautifully photographed. The film gets a surprising amount of mileage out of unicorns running through the mist, blinding lights, and infrared shots. This is tied with some psychedelic colors and dreamscapes. Some of the CGI isn't flawless but I do enjoy the practical monster unicorn effects we get throughout. “Death of a Unicorn's” satire is definitely, probably too on-the-nose and it can't make every emotional beat of its story hit exactly right. However, it's also an enjoyable horror/comedy that makes a creditable threat out of long-since neutered mythological concept. Considering Piney's “monoceros” was certainly describing a rhinoceros, this is a idea I'm surprised nobody had really done before. Maybe I'm simply too much of a folklore nerd and a sloppy monster kid at heart to resist whatever charms this one had. I'm fine with that. [7/10]

The Phantom Creeps (1939)

Between 1914 and 1964, Universal Pictures would make 146 serials. Basically the Netflix shows of their era, designed to get people to come back to the theater every week, these cinematic series have been forgotten by all but the most devoted of classic movie nerds. However, at least one of these serials has had an odder legacy. Unsurprisingly, there was some crossover between Universal's serials and their horror movies. 1939's “The Phantom Creeps” would star Bela Lugosi, giving this one a little bit of a cult following. It also fell into the public domain, surely being broadcast on many creature feature shows in the sixties and seventies. That's probably how the young Mr. Robert Zombie first saw it and why he gave the serial's distinctive robot menace a key role in his “Dragula” music video. The machine went on to become something of a mascot of Zombie's, extending “The Phantom Creeps'” legacy – or at least the legacy of that ugly-ass robot – a lot further than it otherwise would've gone. Some have even gone so far as to consider “Dr. Zorka's Iron Man” a Universal Monster. That means I had to watch it! 

“The Phantom Creeps” exists in two forms: The original serial, totaling four hours and twenty-five minutes, and a 78 minute feature cut, assembled for TV broadcast in 1949. I watched both, naturally. Either version follows the same story: Mad scientist Dr. Zorka has discovered a new element from a meteor. He's fashioned an array of fantastical weapons from it: A belt that grants invisibility, that eight foot tall robot, a gas that induces a death-like state, little robot spiders attracted to radioactive disks, and a laser gun called a Z-Ray. After he inadvertently kills his wife and fakes his own death, Zorka promises to unleash his vengeance on the world. (With the help of Monk, his incompetent and cowardly henchman.) Government man Captain West, hot-shot reporter Jean Drew, and former colleague Dr. Mallory try to stop Zorka's plan. Meanwhile, spies for an enemy nation seek the element for their own purposes.

My exposure to old time movie serials has, admittedly, been limited. However, I've certainly read plenty about the cliches of the format. “The Phantom Creeps” does nothing to dispel these pre-conceived notions. The serial sacrifices pacing, ambiance, and often coherence in favor of constant action. Nearly every episode features a car chase or a shoot-out. There are multiple plane crashes across the twelve parts and a speed boat crash too. The plot essentially sees Zorka's mysterious element trading hands between himself, the heroes, and the spies. “The Phantom Creeps” repeats this pattern over and over again across its twelve installments. Sometimes, the element is swapped between the different parties multiple times within the same episode. Such as in the improbable plot turn of Zorka renting an apartment right above the secret hide-out of the spy ring. Shit like that reminds you that these serials were basically made for kids, an audience that could accept unlikely developments like Zorka discovering a hitchhiker that looks just like him or pulling a number of amazing inventions out of this one magic rock.

Of all the contrivances of the classic serials, none is more notorious than the cliffhangers. Each chapter must end with the heroes having fallen into a seemingly inescapable sort of peril. “The Phantom Creeps” deserves points for creativity. The good guys are left in planes and cars and even a boat that crash and burns. Zorka also derails a train they're riding on, pulls electric wires down onto their heads, throttles Captain Bob with his killer robot, and tricks them into crossing a bridge about to be dynamited. No matter how fatal each of these events may appear, the heroes emerge unharmed at the start of the next chapter. Getting out of the cockadoodie car is one thing. The characters emerging unharmed from the fiery wreckage of a train wreck or simply driving through the explosive hazards is harder to swallow. This pattern is designed to keep viewers coming back next week. To modern eyes, it makes “The Phantom Creeps” seem utterly devoid of tension. No matter how elaborate the danger, no one will actually be hurt.

When you combine that with the repetitive plot, “The Phantom Creeps” quickly becomes a tedious experience. When contrivances like the G-men driving by the spies on the same road occur, leading to yet another car chase, you feel exhausted. Moreover, constantly going right up to something truly crucial happening only to pull back makes the series feel like a perpetual tease. Whenever you feel like that murderous robot is finally going to do something, the story goes back into a holding pattern. Any time the plot threatens to get truly exciting, the story returns back to the mundane settings of Zorka's lair or Dr. Mallory's suburban home. Most of the characters are men in suits and fedoras, often making it difficult to keep track of which group has the MacGuffin at any given time. I often forgot whether I was watching Captain Bob or his sidekick or the gang of foreign agents. The characters that are memorable are rendered less likable by their repeatedly foolish actions. Monk attempts to betray or dessert Zorka multiple times but the mad scientist never disposes or fires his cowardly henchman. Or the spies seem happy to let the Lois Lane-ian heroine go at one point. It's hard to be too invested in what happens when the characters are this dumb and indistinct.

At the same time, I am tempted to forgive “The Phantom Creeps” for its dumber, more tedious trespasses. It should go without saying that Bela hams it up to glorious heights as Dr. Zorka. Honestly, his expression when being exposed to his own gas, threatening Monk with bodily harm, or being shocked when he accidentally derails a whole train brought me more entertainment than anything else across these four hours. I was also repeatedly amused by Monk's ability to absorb multiple gunshot wounds without any consequences. Fast-talking, adventurous lady reporters almost always win me over and Dorothy Arnold plays that role nicely here. Once “The Phantom Creeps” finally stops fucking around in its final part, its constant action is finally given some weight. The perpetually scowling Iron Man takes on a small army and goes up in spectacular fashion. Bela unleashes his wrath via bombs dropped from a bi-plane, resulting in a lot of stock footage from the crash of the Hiddenburg and World War II combat. That chaotic final act is deliriously violent enough almost to make up for the extremely stupid way our villain is undone.

Ultimately, “The Phantom Creeps” has limited charms. Bela is giving it his all. Watching him lurk around a cobweb strewn lab, make himself invisible, or brood over bubbling chemicals isn't without its value. Edward Von Sloan plays the leader of the spy ring. There's some novelty in seeing him as a bad guy, despite the disappointing lack of interaction he has with Lugosi. Honestly, Rob Zombie definitely stole the most memorable element from this serial. That towering robot, with its perpetually scowling face and stiffly moving arms, is amusingly goofy. The serial repeatedly trying to turn such an awkward, comical creature into a creditable threat results in some chuckles. The full length serial quickly becomes a slog to get through. The abbreviated version operates more like a best-of reel than a coherent narrative, though it is slightly more digestible. Will I continue to hold onto the Blu-Ray simply to say my Universal Monsters collection is as comprehensive as possible? Obviously the answer is yes. [5/10]

 

 

Alfred Hitchcock Presents: The Glass Eye
 

Far back within the reaches of human history, a person realized they could make it seem like their voice was coming from a source other than their own throats. This skill was originally used during religious ceremonies. At some point, somebody fashioned a piece of wood into a crude representation of the human form and, using the same talent, made it appear like this facsimile was alive and talking with its own voice. Presumably five minutes after that, somebody else realized this was all kind of weird. And so the proud narrative tradition of creepy ventriloquist dummies emerged. In 1944, John Keir Cross published the short story "The Glass Eye" and its fine and unsettling twist ending surely caught the attention of Alfred Hitchcock and his team. He would host an adaptation of the tale – with Robert Stevens directing – as the premiere episode of the third season of "Alfred Hitchcock Presents."

An unusually subdued William Shatner appears as our narrator, cleaning out the belongings of his late spinster sister, Julia. Upon discovering a glass eye, he relates the tale behind it: On one of the rare occasions where she ventured out into the world, Julia took her bratty nephew to a show. There, the famous ventriloquist Max Collodi and his dummy George performed. Julia immediately became infatuated with Collodi, quitting her job to follow his performances around the country. She wrote to him obsessively, requesting a meeting, and included a photograph of herself when she was younger. After many rejections, Collodi finally agreed to see her, in a darkened room and only for five minutes. This preceded a horrifying discovery. 

Most stories of devious dummies and malevolent marionettes usually go the route of the puppet being imbued with life through supernatural means or representing the fractured psyche of the ventriloquist. "The Glass Eye" goes a slightly different route, its shock ending nevertheless probably being easily guessed by most savvy modern viewers the minute they get a look at "George." (Or notice a specific name in the credits.) Either way, Stevens' direction and John L. Russell's moody cinematography keeps this captivating. The climatic meeting between Julia and the object of her desire plays out in a shadowy room, the sole source of light upon the ventriloquist's table. The reveal plays out like a nightmare come to life, conveying the odd circumstances strictly through tight close-ups and sudden emergencies. If nothing else, the episode does a good job of impressing on the viewer how psychologically devastating Julia finds these uncanny events. 

It leads up to a rather melancholy epilogue, the sadness of which Hitchcock's typically morbid quips in the host segments can't defuse. Creepy as it definitely is, "The Glass Eye" mostly strikes me as a deeply sad story of how self-loathing unavoidably goes hand-in-hand with the need for human contact. Jessica Tandy plays Julia as someone crippled by her fears of being judged by others. She considers herself an old, used-up woman that is unlovable to the world, despite Tandy being all of 47 at the time and hardly a crone. Still, she hopes for a partner to touch. She falls in love with Collodi from afar, seeing the handsome ventriloquist as an ideal figure she can reach out to. Despite her devotion, she still fears rejection by him and sends a younger photo. The bitterly ironic ending is that her celebrity crush isn't even real, that the true puppeteer is somebody else who clearly fears rejection and hides from the world as well, and that her need to hold and treasure undoes her own fantasies. You could apply a lot of these themes to our modern world of NEETs, "stan culture," and parasocial relationships. That proves that good writing is immortal and "The Glass Eye" remains potent to this day. [8/10]

The Addams Family: Morticia's Romance: Part 1

With the start of its second season, I suppose the writers decided it was time to flesh out the Addams Family's backstory a little bit. This necessitated the show's first two-part episode. On the night of Gomez and Morticia's thirteenth anniversary, the kids gather around for their parents to relate the story of how they met. At the age of 22, Gomez was a bachelor with no interest in women and perpetually congested sinuses. Grandmama, sick of her son being alone, conspired with her old schoolmate Hester Frump to arrange a marriage between their children. Ophelia Frump is happy to marry Gomez but he has no attraction to the super-strong, wide-eyed girl... Her twin sister Morticia, on the other hand, immediately captures his attention. The two fall in love quickly and wish to wed but don't know how to break this news to their mothers. Gomez consults Cousin Itt for advice on how to get out of this dilemma, the hairball suggesting a suicide pact. 

"Morticia's Romance" essentially operates as something of an origin story for the kooky, creepy brood. It clarifies that Grandmama is Gomez' mother and Itt is his cousin, while stating again that Fester is Morticia's uncle. It seems Lurch and Thing were already lurking around the house by this point. The episode has great fun re-introducing as many of the family's quirks as possible. It turns out Wednesday is the spitting image of her mother, who was also fond of pigtails, maxi-skirts, and decapitated dolls. The episode shows Gomez meeting Cleopatra – just a sprout at the time – and Kitty Kat, while Morticia stumbles upon Zelda the Vulture. The mention of Gomez' pet octopus or Itt and Fester appearing on-screen are clearly meant to be cheer-worthy moments too. While Morticia seems simply like a shyer version of herself at this age, Gomez is far more neurotic and antisocial. Save for his love of exploding toy trains, he doesn't develop into the passionate, boisterous, French-loving gentleman we know until Morticia lights his flame. Yeah, I can relate to that. Sometimes, it takes meeting your other half to give you the confidence needed to come out of your shell. 

The episode also expands the Addams Family a little bit. In what surely must have been the first big guest star the show went after once it became a success, Margaret Hamilton appears as Gomez' soon-to-be mother-in-law. Of course, the Wicked Witch of the West is Morticia Addams' mom. We also meet Ophelia, the twin sister also played by Carolyn Jones. (Resulting in the required shot of the two standing across from each other in a horizontal shot.) The idea that someone would be too eccentric for Gomez must've presented a challenge. The show resolves this by making Ophelia brightly dressed, enthusiastic about nearly everything, and gifted with a penchant for judo. You'd think his partner regularly beating him up – or shrilly playing a broken violin – would be right up Gomez' alley. I guess Morticia sparked his love of sadomasochism too. If nothing else, Jones clearly delights in a chance to play the opposite of the soft-spoken and reserved Morticia. 

There's some solid gags here too. A conversation between Gomez and Ophelia while she cleans the series of dishes she shattered leads to some amusing visual jokes. The same can be said of Fester's introduction. The extremely bleak joke the episode ends off on is another example of this show being edgier than I'd expected. I guess cracking wise about committing suicide was a lot more common in the sixties than I realized. Another example of this subversive streak is that Gomez gifts Morticia a lacy nightgown as an anniversary present. The two are clearly about to get up to some not-fit-for-prime-time activities when the kids barge in. Despite the separate beds, the fact that Gomez and Morticia Addams fuck can never be ignored. The only element of this episode that seems wrong to me is the reveal that these two have only been together for thirteen years, meeting when both were merely twenty-two. I guess I'm accustomed to the Addams as quasi-immortal beings, untouched by time, as suggested in the nineties film. Am I truly meant to believe that these two are younger in their prime than I am now and not ageless entities that have prospered for eons? Oh, also it's weird that this was the second episode of the second season when it was clearly meant to operate as the premiere. I guess they didn't want to open the sophomore year on a two-parter? [7/10]

Halloween 2024: September 12th

MaXXXine (2024)

It's hard to launch an ongoing horror franchise. This has always been the case but our modern risk-averse studio system is so obsessed with "I.P." that, ironically, they seem increasingly unwilling to create fresh "I.P.s" of their own. What was the last "new" horror series to really connect with audiences? "Terrifier?" "The Conjuring?" "IT," if you can count that? Ti West and A24's "X" certainly hasn't reached the level of pop culture saturation that, say, "Saw" or "Paranormal Activity" did. Yet the way they managed to build a devoted following based around an unproven idea and grind out two follow-ups to it is impressive. They mostly achieved this the old fashion way, by making the movies cheaply. "MaXXXine," the capper on this fame-obsessed trilogy, didn't do blockbuster money this past July. With a budget of only two million – which is still more than "X" and "Pearl" cost to make combined – it didn't have to. All box office concerns aside, more important is that each film stands on its own as bold statements from a talented filmmaker and his group of dedicated collaborators. The trilogy's success proves that you can still make cool, interesting, and financially solvent films in the genre.

Six years after the events of "X," Maxine Mink has headed to Hollywood and done well for herself in adult films. She still dreams of mainstream success though. Her audition for the horror sequel "The Puritan II" impresses the director – also a woman – enough to take a chance on the porn starlet. Maxine is still haunted by what happened in Texas. Moreover, a sleazy P.I. is harassing her, seemingly determined to drudge up her blood-soaked past. When other sex workers she knows start to end up brutally murdered, pentagrams carved into their skin, Maxine feels increasingly endangered. If she hopes to put her past truly behind her and become a star, she's going to have to confront this killer head-on. 

In "X" and "Pearl," those who dream of silver screen quotation were outsiders, misfits, lonely people who saw bigger-than-life projections as a futile escape from their dreary lives. In "MaXXXine," everybody wants to be a star. A montage shows street performers in L.A. reenacting iconic figures like Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton, nobodies hoping to get a little taste of that stardom. Maxine's porn star coworkers attend big parties in the Hollywood hills out of some hope it might score them a juicy connection. Her agent seems to be a washed-up never-was and one of the police detectives she meets casually mentions trying acting once. Her costar in "The Puritan II" seems like she's still chasing the dream, despite already starring in a successful film, because horror movies aren't respected. This idea that L.A. is a town where everyone wants to be in show business dovetails with the ubiquity of screens. Camcorders are a common presence, grainy handheld footage appearing in several key scenes. TVs are ever present, where constant news chatter promises to give anyone the spotlight for a little bit. The right-wing Jesus freaks that float around the whole movie are obsessed with pop culture too, seeing sin and Satan in every movie, TV show, or song they encounter. In Hollywood, everyone is a Pearl. In the modern day, with camera phones and YouTube, we're all Pearls. 

"X" was identified by its themes of aging and sexual repression, which still floats around "MaXXXine." Maxine feels her time is running out, that she has to prove her worth as a star before she's too old. This is emphasize by the way the make-up draws attention to the natural bags under Mia Goth's eyes. A key scene, where she is having a plaster cast of her head made, directly references the heavy make-up Goth underwent to become Pearl in the first movie, making the connection between the two all the more explicit. Sex, meanwhile, is as mainstream as can be in this story taking place in L.A.'s sleazy underbelly. A desperate need to control that desire is what drives the murders, the need for stardom and the need for sexual expression practically being one and the same. 

As much as "MaXXXine" links back to the previous installments, it's a much messier film on a thematic level. While "X" was a simple slasher, and "Pearl" was a character study, this is a wilder tale with more subplots and a wider scope. The result might not be as coherent but I still had an incredibly good time with "MaXXXine." Much has been made of the film's giallo influence – obvious in the black gloves its killer wears – but the biggest callback here is Brian DePalma's craziest, sleaziest, most coked-out eighties thrillers. The multiple split screens makes this apparent. A prominent needle drop from Frankie Goes to Hollywood is only the most direct shout-out to "Body Double." However, West always does more than simply pay tribute to his influences. DePalma's obsession with voyeurism and Hitchcock are reflected here in skin-crawling snuff films and a "Psycho" homage, which mirror events from the first two films in fascinating ways. Most impressively, West manages to capture the unhinged energy of "Blow Out" or "Raising Cain" in an outrageous climax that keeps escalating in craziness. Some may wonder how a story that started the way "X" did can end in shoot-outs, helicopter spotlights, on-camera exorcism, and weird cult shit happening in the Hills. But I admire how hard West swings for the fences here. 

More than anything else, what I most loved about "MaXXXine" is the earthy specificity of the world it creates. Unlike most films that claim to depict the spirit of the eighties, "MaXXXine" goes out of its way to paint the dingy, sweaty, analog reality of 1985. The fog, neon, and strobe lights combine with a spectacular squalidness. One notable moment has an antagonist kicking open a series of bathroom stalls, each toilet within more disgusting than the one before it. The strip joints, peep shows, adult video stores, and sketchy clubs have such a delightfully purposeful look to them. Effort went into making these places seem alive. This is also obvious in the direct pop culture references West and his team include. A Judas Priest T-shirt, a lingering close-up on a New Coke can, or the world of the Hollywood backlot aren't here as cutesy in-jokes for the fan boys to catch. Instead, they were picked to flesh out the world these characters inhabit. 

I don't think West and "MaXXXine" are beyond intentional camp though. The film is definitely the most willfully ridiculous of the trilogy. You see this in Kevin Bacon's hilariously sleazy turn as the dirtiest P.I. in recent memory. Or in the decision to glue a shaggy toupee to Giancarlo Esposito's head. (Who does not out-camp Bacon despite trying his best.) The film's gory scenes go less for the stylized suspense of West's previous picture and more for an elevated outrageousness. A slashing scene can't resist to splatter a row of VHS tapes with blood. By the time of the over-the-top finale, West is bouncing a decapitated head down a staircase in slow-motion, a move so amusingly tacky that it would make Fulci blush. Not to mention Tyler Bates' soundtrack actually features the kind of boozy saxophone sounds usually reserved for parodies. Some may find this all a little-too-much, the movie collapsing under the strain of its own need to be the ultimate Hollywood Sleazecore throwback. Personally, how can I not be entertained by this? By red-hot Satanic cattle prods or the prominent use of a junkyard car crusher? I can't lie. I had a great time with this. 

Goth doesn't get the kind of show stopping moments here that she did in "Pearl." That was a much more emotional experience than this, while "X" was a fantastically orchestrated grubby horror show. "MaXXXine" is messier, weirder, and dumber than both of those, especially the closer it gets to its upbeat denouncement. However, the film is also full of talented actors giving it their all and some extremely fun sequences of sex and violence. If it's not as all-together satisfying as "X" or "Pearl," that's more a testament to those films' quality than any flaws this one has. If nothing else, I continue to be fascinated with the detailed, lived-in realities West created with all three of these movies. In a world when so many genre filmmakers are eager to invoke a past era, West continues to distinguish himself by actually putting in the work. The result has been a trilogy with an extremely above-par batting average. Satanic panic, VHS scan lines, Hollywood aspirations, cocaine, eighties sleaze, horror/heavy metal crossover, and a lovingly naïve dream of stardom combine to make an incredibly entertaining motion picture. [9/10]

The Whale God (1962)

Kujira gami

Obviously, anybody who knows anything about Japanese giant monster movies knows Toho ruled the roost during the daikaiju genre's golden age. If you know that, you probably know that the only real rival to that studio's dominance was Daiei, whose Gamera was a worthy challenger to Godzilla's status as King of the Monsters. However, giant monsters were not Daiei's primary output. The studio was mostly built on the back of historical dramas, like "Rashoman" and "Sansho the Bailiff," and pulpier samurai movies. With the long-running Zatoichi the Blind Swordsman series, starring Shintaro Katsu, probably being the most popular. Eventually, Daiei would mash up kaiju and Jidaigeki with the "Daimajin" trilogy... But this was not Daiei's first experiment with this idea. In 1962, just as "Zatoichi" was getting started and three years before Gamera existed, the studio would make a moodier fusion of big beast and Edo melodrama. Known in its native land as "Kujira gami," and variously translated abroad as "Killer Whale" and "The Whale God," the film remained obscure and unavailable stateside for decades. After a subtitled version circulated online for a while, "The Whale God" finally got an official release on disc over here last year. Upon learning that Daiei did their own version of "Moby Dick," starring Shintaro Katsu, with vintage tokusatsu special effects and a score from Akira Ifukube, I knew I had to see this thing. 

In the medieval era of Japan, a small fishing village is beset by an enormous, vicious whale. Dubbed the Whale God by the locals, numerous whalers have lost their lives to the beast. Shaki's grandfather, father, and brother have all been killed by the sea monster. The elder of the village declares that anyone who kills the Whale God will inherit his estate and receive his daughter's hand in marriage. Shaki isn't interested in this so much, as he's in love with a young Christian girl named Ei and desires only vengeance against the whale. Vicious drifter Kishu, however, is very interested in the monetary gains. The two men enter into a rivalry, both centering around their mutual obsession with destroying this killer whale. 

"The Whale God" was directed by Tokuzo Tanaka, whose best known works are entries in Daiei's samurai series like "Zatoichi," "The Sleepy Eyes of Death," "Lone Wolf and Cub," and "Shinobi no mono." Tanaka also made "The Betrayal," an extremely moody, fatalistic sword fight movie starring Raizo Ichikawa. This is what "The Whale God" most resembles. Setsuo Kobayashi's black-and-white cinematography is largely composed of close-up on faces and harpoons within cramped, shadowy interiors. The tone is dark and violent, focused on the futility of its characters' actions, with a bloody bar brawl being a good encapsulation of that. Kishu rapes Ei and she gives birth to his child, this being the most blatant example of how women are treated as tradable commodities by the men around them. This is not an escapist fantasy, like most kaiju movies, but rather heavy drama dealing with weighty themes like vengeance, obsession, and sexism. 

"The Whale God" is so focused on its ideas that it becomes melodramatic. Everyone in this village is fucking obsessed with this whale, you guys. Everybody wants to kill this animal. Nearly every conversation relates back to the whale somehow. If "The Whale God" is Daiei's version of "Moby Dick," then every person in the village is Ahab. The fact that what is merely a water-dwelling mammal has been assigned God status speaks to something, the whale becoming an ever-present aspect of the natural world that can never be destroyed. The mission to kill the beast is described as futile more than once, everyone who sets off on it knowing it's a suicide mission. Despite that, Shaki remains obsessed with harpooning the beast that has destroyed his family. When Ei has her baby and Shaki adopts him, he says this child will grow up to try and avenge him if he fails. With the implication being that this is a cycle, of loss and bloodshed, that will never end. It's a matter of honor for Shaki. He's become so sucked into that mindset that he can't see this is an ultimately futile mission. This entire village is stuck in this thought process of upholding a way of life that isn't sustainable. Of course, it destroys them. Of course – spoiler alert – once the whale is dead, the village elder realizes his life has no purpose now. Considering one of the favorite topics of samurai movies is that the samurai's fixation on honor was a self-destructive, toxic cycle, one assumes "The Whale God" is another variation on that theme. 

All of that is well and good. But you might be wondering how this qualifies "The Whale God" as a monster movie. Whales are, after all, real animals that are already monster sized through no fantastical means. However, the film still treats the beast as an otherworldly threat. The puppet effects, which included a life sized prop, are quite surreal. When the whale opens its gaping mouth, it resembles a yawning human more than any cetacean. With a shroud of netting over its body and countless harpoons stuck in its back, the Whale God gives the impression of some deathless creature out of local folklore. It's notable that the whale's eyes only become visible after it's fatally wounded, the fact that this is a dumb animal after all becoming apparent only as it faces death. Even then, the whaling scenes are dream-like in their intensity. The massive puppet is clearly meant to be a baleen whale of some sort, probably a humpback. It's obviously not representative of any actual animal though, being much closer in spirit to Godzilla than Shamu. This, when combined with the sea creature's large body count and violent nature, easily pushes the film into the horror genre. "Kaiju" simply means "strange beast," after all, and the Whale God is certainly that. 

The result is a brooding, often unsettling film. The performances are utterly intense. Kojiro Hongo is steely and fiery as Shaki. Katsu is a burly, animalistic brute. Takashi Shimura, one of Japan's great actors and a regular of Toho's monster movies, plays the village elder as unmovable in his self-destructive beliefs. Ifukube's score is thunderous, grinding, and mournful, lacking the triumphant, militaristic themes of his better known music. Culturally, it is an interesting picture, touching on Japan's relationship with Christianity and its historical treatment of women. Of course, Japan has a long, complicated, bloody history with whaling too. That makes it kind of funny that an environmental theme, common in later kaiju movies, is one of the few topics not covered here. While it's a bit too slow and dry to earn the status of classic, "The Whale God" is still a really interesting and well-made motion picture, one I'm glad is finally officially available over here. Tokuzo Tanaka directed another historical fantasy/monster movie for Daiei two years earlier, so I guess I'm on the hook to review that one some day too. [7/10]

Thriller: The Hungry Glass

Since ancient times, when it was thought they could be used to communicate with spirits, mirrors have been objects of superstition. Unsurprisingly, there's been more than a few horror stories about that very topic. Boris Karloff does a nice little introduction on the mirror's sway over us at the beginning of "The Hungry Glass," another episode of "Thriller" based on a Robert Bloch story. Gil and Marcia Thrasher buy a home on the windy, New England coast. The house is the stuff of local legend, as the original owner died after becoming obsessed with her own reflection. Now, no mirrors are said to be found anywhere in the home. Gil and Marcia ignore the superstition at first but soon begin to notice strange spectres around the house, captured in photographs or reflected in the window. Gil, a Korean War vet with PTSD, becomes increasingly nervous. Especially after his wife uncovers a locked attic room, filled with mirrors...

"The Hungry Glass" seems to be fondly recalled as one of the best episodes of "Thriller" and it's not hard to see why. The episode provides exactly the kind of spooky chills, driven by shadowy ambiance, that the program is remembered for. From the first scene, the wind is always howling in the background. The crusty locals provide ominous warnings in Mainer accents, which are naturally ignored by the modern, sensible protagonists. The old house is largely without electricity and its dusty, dark interiors make a fine setting for a ghost story. There's a bearded, old sea captain with a book hand. Director Douglas Heyes – who also directed yesterday's "Eye of the Beholder" and, no, I didn't plan that – mines the creepy home for all its worth. There's a long, dialogue-free sequence where Marcia unlocks the hidden room and it's surely the highlight of the episode, a real eeriness being summoned by these black-and-white images. The ghostly visions aren't the most convincing but they are used sparingly and are all the more effective because of it. 

Another reason, perhaps, "The Hungry Glass" is well regarded is because it stars William Shatner. And, oh, this is some good Shatner. His handsome, leading man charm works perfectly in the early moments, when he's joking about vampires and in high spirits. As soon as things start to get weird, Gil begins a slow unraveling. A moment where he spies something unusual over his wife's shoulder, the audience only seeing one of his peering eyes at first, shows the physical theatricality that Shatner excelled at. As the character grows wearier, Shatner vacillates between softly spoken chilliness and sweaty, wild-eyed rants. The finale of the episode walks this same line between genuinely creepy and over-the-top hysterics. Good shit, in other words. As in "The Cheaters," the previous high-water mark for this series, "Thriller" knew when to focus on the gloom and when to lay on the throttle. [8/10]

The Addams Family: Fester's Punctured Romance

When Gomez and Morticia notice Fester spoiling the children, they begin to wonder if he’s having some difficulties. It turns out the guy is lonely, eager to find a bride at this point in his life. He has placed a want ad in the lonely hearts column, his family helping him take the perfect picture. When Miss Carver, a door-to-door cosmetics saleswoman arrives at the Addams’ doorstep, she is mistaken for Fester’s date. He quickly deduces that this fresh-faced, made-up woman is not his type. Morticia mistakes Carver’s attempt to sell her product as a declaration of love, encouraging Fester to give his assumed date a shot anyway. 

“Fester’s Punctured Romance” is another example of an “Addams Family” episode that works largely because of the cast. Carolyn Jones’ astonished reactions to the toad-like faces Fester makes when posing for an ideal dating ad photo are way funnier solely because she commits so totally to the act. The show’s dialogue remains absurdly sharp, such as Wednesday’s interaction with the saleswoman outside the house. Moments like these are a little better than sillier bits, like Gomez standing on his head. Once Miss Carver, played by an amusingly straight-laced Merry Anders, arrives at the house, I fully expected “Fester’s Punctured Romance” to go for the typical sight gags. That she would immediately flee in horror from all the odd sights. Luckily, the episode holds out longer than that, instead going for a fresher comedic device: The conversation with two meanings. The saleswoman is simply trying to sell some make-up but the Addams assume every word is a come-on. We get the expected terrified fleeing later but the episode holding out on that allows for far more funny interactions. [7/10]

Halloween 2023: October 31st - HALLOWEEN

Unlike the last few years, I actually had concrete plans for Halloween night. I joined two of my oldest friends to hand out candy for the neighborhood kids. JD – who some of you might remember from my podcast days – always goes all-out, decorating the front yard as much as possible. I slapped on a cool, plastic devil mask I got a while back and was happy to join him. We had a great time giving some kids and youngsters their tricks and treats this year. After that eventful evening, it was back home for my traditional all night marathon of horror movies. The final night of the Halloween Blog-A-Thon commenced. 

Elvira's Halloween Special (1968)

The golden age of MTV passed long before my days. By the time I started paying attention, so-called Music Television had already long abandoned its mission statement of playing music videos. Nowadays, when everyone just looks up the music videos they want to watch on Youtube, MTV is even more pointless than it was fifteen years ago. Back in the days before every song ever recorded was available via the internet, you really did rely on whatever was shown on TV to see your favorite clips. At least MTV had fun with it back in the day, with their VJs and various themed programming blocks. Halloween specials used to be a common feature on the network. In 1984, Elvira hosted spooky music videos on October 31st. This must have been a success, as the Mistress of the Dark came back to the channel two years later to do it again. Because anything the beloved horror host touches develops a cult following, tape recordings of what is generally known as “Elvira's Halloween Special” continue to circulate around the usual places.

What makes Elvira's 1986 MTV special a little more distinctive than the 1984 version is that the horror host would shoot a few segments in Salem, Massachusetts. These bits are presented alongside a bunch of other skits the sarcastic horror hosts filmed, fully of the Halloween adjacent schtick you expect from her. Naturally, the rest of the run time are filled out with a bunch of music videos, each one with a vague horror or Halloween theme of some sort. In its last third, Elvira presents a countdown of what she – or, more accurately, MTV's programmers – considered to be their creepiest, strangest music videos. 

If you're a fan of Elvira, you're probably a fan of kitsch. While well-known for her saucy one-liners about her physical appearance, most of the jokes Cassandra Petersen's alter-ego cracks here are of an even cheesier variety. Her interviews with people on the street devolve into very goofy conversations about bad luck and Halloween pranks. As hoary as the material can be, just watching Petersen be her joyfully silly self is a lot of fun. The opening montage of her goofing around Salem, or cracking one-liners while buying random shit from a little shop, simply makes me smile. That's the magic of Petersen's trademark character. She's having so much fun. How can't you have fun too? 

Far funnier are the in-studio skits Elvira stars in. There's some real classics – if you'll excuse my debatable use of the term “classic” –  that I've seen out-of-context many times. A fake commercial for a compilation of “Halloween Carols,” an “Exorcist”-inspired work-out segment, or a mock ad for a Elvira Barbie doll (whose boyfriend is Satan) are all highlights here. Some of the skits are clunkers. Such as an extended parody of The $50,000 Pyramid, that pairs Elvira up with a nun, or a short bit about slipping corny records into trick-or-treat bags. Yet the puns are slung fast enough that a better one is usually right around the corner when one flops. 

“Elvira's Halloween Special” is also valuable as a time capsule of the music video landscape back in 1986. Some of the videos displayed here are amusingly crude. “Plan 9, Channel 7” is simply devoted to The Damned vamping around a cemetery with a Vampira lookalike. “Hollywood Halloween” by Paul Broucek and “Imitators” by Strange Party are basically just documentary footage of Halloween parades and parties. Zero budget goth clips from Bauhaus and Kommunity FK are on display, devoting largely to the eye-shadowed lead singers prancing around spooky locations. Yet there are a few more elaborate clips featured here. Such as Luis Cardena's cover of “Runaway,” which involves a whole band of stop-motion dinosaurs. Or Fred Schneider of the B-52s' utterly ridiculous “Monster in My Pants," which also involves some stop-motion creatures. 

The second half of the special, the countdown, features most of the usual suspects. Alice Cooper, Ozzie Osborne, the Time Warp, and that creepy Lou Reed video with the robot all put in appearances. Yet there are some truly bizarre, deep cuts here. Such as the promotional doo-wop single New World mocked up for “Godzilla 1984” or three separate “Psycho” themed music videos. Probably the best balance of an actual decent song and a cool, spooky music video is X's German Expressionism inspired clip for “Because I Do.” Anyway, it's hard to call “Elvira's Halloween Special” essential viewing. This is obviously a lark, not meant to have any lasting effect outside of its original airing. Yet you've got lots of Halloween vibes, campy old music videos, Elvira looking great and having a great time, and some decent tunes too. Utterly impossible for me not to enjoy all that. [7/10]

The Hound of the Baskervilles (1939)

I hope I don't scandalize anyone when I say that I'm actually not that familiar with Sherlock Holmes. Oh, I watched “The Great Mouse Detective” all the time as a kid and have seen a smattering of other films abut the famous detective. The original writing Arthur Conan Doyle I haven't much sampled yet. Most egregiously, I've never really seen any of the classic Holmes films starring Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce. Of course, Holmes' films are mystery set during the Victorian era, which puts them right next door to Gothic horror. The most famous of Doyle's novel is, naturally, “The Hound of the Baskervilles.” This is also, notably, one of the few Holmes stories that cross over directly into horror. As I always like to include a classic horror film from the thirties or forties today, I put the 1939 “The Hound of the Baskervilles – Rathbone and Bruce's debut in their most iconic roles – on the agenda. 

Sir Charles Baskerville dies while being chased across the ancestral moors of his family. The death is blamed on the legendary hell hound, who has supposedly haunted the family for two hundred years. The heir to the Baskerville estate, Sir Henry, arrives in Devonshire. This prompts his friend, Dr. James Mortimer, to go to esteemed detective Sherlock Holmes and his partner, Dr. Watson. A number of strange things have befallen Henry since his arrival, such as his boots vanishing, strange howling outside, and sighting of a raggedy man on the moors. Watson and, soon afterwards, Holmes arrive to investigate, deducing that a conspiracy is about to murder Sir Henry. The question remains though: Is the Hound of the Baskerville real? 

Rathbone and Bruce's portrayals of Holmes and Watson would, for decades, define the public vision of these characters. Nowadays, I think that's changed. The interpretations of Holmes favored by Benedict Cumberbatch and Robert Downey Jr – that emphasizes his eccentricity and even make him ambiguously neurodivergent – has taken hold. To go back to the 1939 “Baskervilles,” you see a Holmes with more dignity than that. Rathbone's Holmes is unfailingly brilliant, always working on unraveling mysteries and looking for clues. This is probably a side-effect of these older movies having short run times but it gives the impression of a Holmes with no time for anything else. He's a man of action, always rushing onward to the next adventure to occupy his brilliant mind. Rathbone does give Sherlock some quirks, such as his fondness for the violin or how he fools Watson with a wild disguise. (Not to mention an easily missed line referencing Holmes' cocaine use.) Yet Rathbone's Holmes is characterized by his genius and flair, not his social awkwardness. Bruce's Watson would involve into a buffoon but, in this first movie, he's more of a totally competent foil for Sherlock to bounce his observations off of.

While reviewing “Lake of the Dead” yesterday, I pointed out the theme of logic coming into conflict with legends. This is nothing new for the mystery genre and summed up by “The Hound of the Baskervilles.” Doyle drew from classical English stories of demonic black dogs for inspiration. The legend of the Hound has a powerful hold on the Baskervilles' family. Even the otherwise logical characters, like Lionel Atwill's Dr. Mortimer, are fearful of it. The film's villain uses this fear to execute his ploy, hoping all the deaths will be blamed on the otherworldly dog. Holmes, obviously, is driven by his skills of deductive reasoning. He is, in other words, in direct opposition to a belief in the supernatural. “Hound of the Baskervilles” butters up its story with Gothic tropes, yet the Gothic genre is ultimately characterized by a sense of the fantastic, of the dream logic of the subconscious mind intruding on the waking world. This is the opposite, a tale of facts and reason triumphing over superstition. 

Despite this clear distinction, “The Hound of the Baskervilles” is shot like a horror movie. Its opening titles play over footage of the fog-strewn moors, before coming to the ominous family manor. There's so much mist in this movie, not to mention some cool shots of shadows growing large against a wall. The silent criminal lurking in the shrouded countryside feels right out of a Universal Monsters movie. This fulfills my hunger for classic horror atmosphere in a big way. Director Sidney Lanfield doesn't back away from generating scares either. The opening scene, of Sir Charles being stalked, is genuinely eerie. The flashback to the hound's mythological origins plays up the shadowy ambiance as well. This adaptation even tosses in an atmospheric séance sequence, an invention of the film. As the film draws closer to revealing the truth, it shows us more of the hound, proving it to be an ordinary dog. This is a clever device, though a ferocious dog is really no less scary than a ravenous hell hound would be anyway. The horror connection is more than confirmed by the time a foggy cemetery puts in an appearance in the penultimate chase.

Perhaps the strangest thing about 1939's “The Hound of the Baskervilles” is that Holmes isn't in most of it. 20th Century Fox feared that Basil Rathbone wasn't a big enough star to anchor the film. Instead, they cast established star Richard Greene as Sir Henry, who gets top billing. Greene is a typical romantic lead of the time. As a mystery – even if you don't know the story already – it's fairly obvious to guess who “Hound of the Baskervilles'” mastermind will turn out to be. Red herrings like Lionel Atwill's doctor, John Carradine as a shifty butler, or a loudmouthed Scottish neighbor are too obvious. Despite these short-comings, and a somewhat slow pace, “The Hound of the Baskervilles” is a strong effort. Rathbone and Bruce's immediate chemistry and lots of spooky vibes solidifies this as a classic version of a beloved novel. [7/10]

The Neanderthal Man (1953)

Maybe I'm remember everything wrong but, I seem to recall during my childhood, that the caveman was regarded as one of the classic Halloween monsters. I have a distinct memory of a crude wax museum that stood a statue of a neanderthal right next to Frankenstein, Dracula, and a mummy. It's possible my young brain placed a lot more importance on this minor detail than anyone else did. Either way, there are a handful of horror movies about our more primitive ancestors. Five years before Universal's better known “Monster on the Campus,” United Artists released a film with a near identical premise. That would be “The Neanderthal Man,” which is at least well liked enough among schlock film fans to get an edition from Scream Factory. 

Dr. Cliffton Groves is an anthropologist that believes modern man is closely related to his ape-like ancestors, owning to the similarities in their brain size. He has developed a potion to help prove his theory. When a common house cat is drugged, it devolves into a sabretooth tiger. Groves then tests the concoctions on himself. This causes him to transform into an ape-like neanderthal. Freed of human morality, he seeks vengeance on those that have wronged him. His wife, Jan, soon notices that something is amiss with her husband. Attracted by stories of a sabretooth tiger, Dr. Ross Harkness investigates as well.

One of the great clichés of classic sci-fi and horror films is the mad scientist, who rages at the world who rejects him, usually in an overwrought monologue where he explains his grievances and master plan. “The Neanderthal Man” features a completely unironic deployment of this very stereotype. Dr. Groves' colleagues laugh at his theories. Later that evening, he goes on a rant to his wife about how he's going to prove them all wrong. This is just the film's most blatant display for veteran character actor Robert Shayne's theatrical talent. Shayne spends the entire movie in a grouchy mood, exerting his intellectual superiority whenever he can and often getting into petty arguments with people. Shayne is clearly enjoying this chance to ham it up and his performance is the most delightful thing about “The Neanderthal Man.” 

As a creature feature, “The Neanderthal Man” is a typical monster-on-the-loose B-movie. Much like “Monster on the Campus,” the caveman monster wears a buttoned-down shirt and even knows how to operate a window latch at one point. While that later film had Bud Westmore doing the special effects, this one clearly didn't have those kind of resources. The monster make-up in “The Neanderthal Man” is quite lumpy. The ape-man's facial features protrude in an exaggerated way, while looking rather rubbery. Shayne's monstrous revenge mostly amounts to him sneaking up on people and wrestling them to the ground. Probably the best example of this is the climatic struggle with a sabretooth tiger, during which the stuntman obviously does get up close and personal with a real big cat. 

In just about every way, “Neanderthal Man” is an average B-movie of its period. Richard Crane's hero is a totally dull wet blanket. E.A. Dupont's direction is lacking in distinction, resulting in a largely bland looking movie. The film even ends with that rugged ol' chest nut, about how man shouldn't meddle in God's domain. Yet “The Neanderthal Man” does have a few quirky touches that make it worth checking out. Aside from Shayne's amusingly hammy performance, the supporting cast is filled out with some oddballs. There's a Texan barkeeper, who talks almost exclusively in cowboy style aphorisms. Even after being thrashed about by the caveman. Also among the Neanderthal Man's attempted victims is a swimsuit model, the kind of moment you'd expect to see in later, more exploitative movies. 

In other words, “The Neanderthal Man” is either a totally stock-parts, unremarkable monster flick that doesn't deserved to be remembered for much. Or, alternatively, it's exactly the kind of cozy, B-movie junk food I crave on Halloween. On the rather brief list of caveman adjacent horror movies, it's probably won't top anyone's ranking. Yet I know how to have fun with trash like this. Plus there's a hilarious shot of a stuffed tiger's face as it attacks a passing motorist. Where else are you going to see insanity like that but in a motion picture of this caliber? [7/10]

Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny & Girly (1970)

Freddie Francis was one of the great cinematographers of British cinema. He made films like “The Innocents” and “The Elephant Man” look stunningly gorgeous. He even won Oscars, for photographing "Sons & Lovers" and "Glory." Of course, Francis was also a director, working largely in the horror genre throughout the sixties and seventies. Francis directed some of the best and moodiest looking films for Hammer and Amicus, such as “Dracula Has Risen from His Grave” and “Dr. Terror's House of Horrors.” For the first decade of his career, Francis operated as a hired gun. As the seventies dawned, he got a chance to develop a film he'd have complete creative control over. Throughout his career at Hammer, Francis had shot outside Oakley Court several times but never shot inside it. He developed a film specifically around the stately manor, which took the form of “Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny & Girly.” The title abbreviated simply to “Girly” for its U.S. release, the oddball movie has acquired a cult following in the years since. 

In a secluded part of London, a peculiar family resides in a grand old hall. Each of the four residents assume a role from a traditional family unit, as part of what they call The Game. Mumsy is the perfectly proper mother. Nanny is the always sweet and patient nanny. Teenagers Sonny and Girly are locked totally in a state of arrested development, acting as overgrown kids and speaking in childish rhymes. It's Girly and Sonny's job to go out into public and recruit new people into the family, who are introduced as “New Friend.” When the new member disobeys the rules or displeases the family, they are executed in elaborate rituals. One night, Girly brings a male swinger back to the grand old hall. After the teens murder his female companion, they convince him he did it and blackmail the man with this information. “New Friend” is incorporated into the Game. Soon, the sexually hungry male begins to disrupt the delicate balance of the home. 

Much like Jack Hill's “Spider Baby,” “Girly” acts as a perverse parody of the traditional nuclear family. The characters let their archetypal roles in the family completely consume their personalities. Mumsy is always the ideal British mother, stern but loving. Sonny is always the bratty, rambunctious little brother, who only cares about playing games and tattle-tailing. Girly, meanwhile, acts all the world like an innocent little girl, spouting off sing-song-y rhymes when it suits her and cuddling up with baby dolls. This contrasts, obviously, with their more psychotic behavior. The quartet gathers around a screening of a snuff film, like it's a wholesome family movie. When Girly snaps and murders someone, all Mumsy cares about is that that she broke her little drummer boy statue. When a decapitated head is discovered boiling in a pot, the reaction is similarly nonplussed. By maintaining the perfect exterior of a charming family at all times, no matter how extreme the circumstances, “Girly” shows how strangling these roles are to begin with.

The roles the family assume all exclude the possibility of sex. Girly and Sonny are children, acting much younger than their teenage years. Mumsy and Nanny are matronly old women without husbands. And this household is a strictly heteronormative world. The presence of the New Friend — who is meant to be a sexually vivacious swinger but looks like Captain Kangaroo — disrupts this sexless realm. All the women want him. Mumsy spends the night with him, making Nanny jealous. He's mostly set his eyes on Girly though. Through the lens of modern sexual politics, "Girly" is definitely a bit sketchy. Girly, the character, is a teenager, acts like a little child, and is played by 22 year old Vanessa Howard. The film rarely misses a chance to eroticize her, dressing her in a litany of mini-skirts and glaring at her body. It's uncomfortable, even more-so when you see an adult actress acting like a child in this role. Yet the fucked-up sexual politics of "Girly" are fascinating to experience. New Friend — a horny little bastard who possesses a cold cunning despite mostly thinking with his penis —urges Girly into the world of sexuality and it disrupts the equilibrium of the household. Lust has a way of doing that. 

Ultimately, "Girly" plays a lot like a very British version of a depraved, backwoods family story. This group exists in their own twisted world, with it's own rules, and all outsiders can do is observe and try and survive. This makes "Girly" quite an effective horror film, when it's not being skeezy or darkly humorous. Furthering this uncomfortable mood of tension, where you never know what these lunatics might do, are some very effective performances. When Girly goes into her sudden, violent rages, Vanessa Howard is genuinely frightening. She is totally unpredictable, mewing sex kitten one minute, giggling child the next, shrieking murderess after that. Meanwhile, Ursula Howells displays a sense of ultimate control as Mumsy. If Girly is unstable, everyone else in the house never breaks character. Pat Heywood and Howard Trevor are both totally believable as a sweetness-and-sunshine nanny and an obnoxious little brother. 

If "Girly" has a major flaw, it's that the closest thing the story has to a hero is a sleazy, self-interested horn dog. Yet spending some time in this very fucked-up household is an experience. Trying to unravel the psychology behind these disturbed characters, and figure out what they'll do next, makes the film a captivating watch. "Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny and Girly" wouldn't connect with audiences in England. Vanessa Howard would retire from acting and Freddie Francis went right back to gothic horror, directing "Tales from the Crypt" and "The Creeping Flesh" shortly afterwards. However, in America, it was sold as a grimy exploitation movie and made a tidy profit. This must've surely pleased Francis, who considered it the favorite of his films. [7/10]

Visiting Hour (1982)

Slasher movies were not often classy affairs. Usually, they were low-budget, exploitation pictures made cheaply and quickly to cash-in on cinematic fads. They are films of the flesh and blood, not of the mind. If they ever had stars in them, it was some washed-up character actor, stopping in for a day or two of shooting so producers had a recognizable name to slap on the poster. However, during the early eighties tidal wave of stalk-and-slash flicks, occasionally one would emerge that took inspiration more from Carpenter and Hitchcock than Sean S. Cunningham. Sometimes, they would even get an iconic actress, like Lauren Bacall or Angie Dickinson, in them. One such example is “Visiting Hours,” which roped Oscar-winner Lee Grant into a starring role. Québécois Jean-Claude Lord was clearly going for something more than cheap thrills. Critics still dismissed it as sexist and just another slasher film in 1982, the British even banning it.

Women's advocate and television personality Deborah Ballin goes on a talk show to defend a woman who killed her abusive husband in self-defense. This incurs the rage of violent misogynist Colt Hawker. He tracks her down at her home and attacks her. The injuries send Deborah to a near-by hospital. The event becomes a major news story, attracting much media attention. But Hawker is still out there, plotting to finish the job. He terrorizes the nurses working to protect Deborah, slowly working his way through the hospital back to her. 

"Visiting Hours" foregoes the masked, silent maniac approach that most slasher films utilize. Instead, Colt Hawker is given quite a lot of backstory. We learn that watching his battered mother paralyze his father is the Freudian origins of his compulsive hatred of women. He's also characterized as a sexual sadist, using violence against women as a replacement for sex. Yet these Norman Bates-like details are not the most effective aspects of "Visiting Hours." Instead, Colt is terrifying simply because he's played by Michael Ironside at his most intense. Frequently sweaty, always wide-eyed, and often semi-nude or dressed in leather, Ironside makes Hawker a man of pure rage and hatred. He is usually seen gripping a stress ball, an example of how he barely contains his rage throughout the day. A sequence where he brutally injures himself, slamming his forearm into broken glass, just to gain admittance to the hospital is a good example of how frighteningly direct his habits are. Ironside spends the entire movie glaring ahead, an expression of disgust or single-minded anger on his face. If you ran into this guy in real life, you would immediately get as far away from him as possible. Ironside radiates threatening vibes every minute he's on-screen, which gives "Visiting Hours" way more malevolent energy than your usual slasher flick. 

What makes Hawker even scarier is that he's an all-too-plausible villain too. Despite his obvious psycho aura, Ironside is both an unassuming and somewhat handsome man. You can understand how he could go through normal, everyday life without setting anyone off. Or how he could even charm a woman into coming back to his apartment. That actually happens. The New Wave girl comments that his wall is covered with letters decrying women, blacks, Jews, and Latinos. She asks "Do you want the whole world to yourself?" To which he replies, deadpan, "Yeah." In our modern world of incel mass shooters and the internet radicalizing young men into organized white supremacists, Colt Hawker is all too plausible a character. Honestly, an outspoken woman speaking on a screen about feminism, enraging a violent loner into stalking her, is far more common now than in 1982. You could remake this movie and have the Deborah character be a YouTube commentator and it would actually make more sense. 

The question remains though: Is "Visiting Hours" invoking such common place real world horrors in service of a few thrills worth it? The scene where Hawker assaults the girl in his apartment, running a knife blade along her exposed thighs, definitely feels like something out of a sleazier movie. Yet I think "Visiting Hours" criticism of misogyny is otherwise sincere. Deborah's fears are taken very seriously and much of the film is devoted to depicting her panic. William Shatner appears as her agent/love interest, operating as the patronizing voice of male authority, the kind of establishment sexism that isn't as vicious as the Colt Hawkers of the world but is no less damaging. The other female characters in the film are similarly detailed, their personalities and home lives expanded on. The final moments could be right out of "Men, Women, and Chainsaw," with the heroine using the villain's phallic weapon - a switchblade knife, which pops up like a surprise erection - against him. The approach is sometimes tacky to modern eyes but that's probably to be expected from a movie made forty years ago. 

Aside from all of that, "Visiting Hours" functions largely as a very intense thriller. The focus is definitely more on sustained suspense than blood and gore. The film generates eerie tension out of many long sequences, simply devoted to character slowly approaching danger. Such as the head nurse heading home, unknowingly being observed, or Colt standing over an old woman's bed in the hospital. If anything, "Visiting Hours" peaks a little early, during a fantastically orchestrated scene where Hawker attacks the nurse in her own home. The last act, where Hawker is finally chasing Deborah through the interior of the hospital, aren't quite as tense as that moment. Overall, the film has a patience and an ability to generate suspense that you don't normally see in films of this type. 

"Visiting Hours" strikes me as an underrated gem of the first wave of North American slasher films. Its cast is extremely well utilized, Grant, Ironside, and Shatner all being cast perfectly to type. The suspense is there, carried by some strong direction, and the movie is a lot smarter and more observant than was certainly necessary. Maybe the hospital setting, promised by the title, could have been a little heavier feature. We've still got "Halloween II" and "X-Ray," if that's what you're after. "Visiting Hours" is a good example of a film that was shit on by the mainstream critical press, gripped by a moral panic around gory horror films, that would probably be well reviewed if released today. I'm glad we've learned to appreciate well done, meat-and-potatoes genre films like this now. [8/10]

Dark Harvest (2023)

I remember when it was first announced that David Slade was going to be directing an adaptation of Norman Partridge's novel, “Dark Harvest.” Slade is an inconsistent talent but he also made “Hard Candy,” one of my favorite films, so his name gets my attention. Partridge's novel, meanwhile, is a monster story set on Halloween, which definitely got my attention. All of this was before the pandemic, which is probably why it seems like a decade ago. Even after “Dark Harvest” was finally filmed, the movie had the misfortune of being an MGM production right as that studio was acquired by Amazon. This led to the film sitting on a shelf for nearly two years. “Dark Harvest” finally got a theatrical release earlier this month, a one-night only screening exclusive to Alamo Drafthouses. This was presumably to fulfil some sort of contractual obligation, before the movie was dumped on digital with little promotion. I hate when promising films get buried because of studio mix-ups. I like to wrap up the Halloween Horror-fest with a new release actually set on October 31st, which made “Dark Harvest” a natural choice for the closing title this season.

An unassuming small town has a disturbing ritual they call the Halloween Run. Every October 31st, a pumpkin-headed monster named Sawtooth Jack rises from the cornfield. The teen boys of the town are tasked with killing Sawtooth Jack before he reaches the community church. If they fail, misfortune will befall the town. If they succeed, a bountiful harvest follows and the winner gets a shiny Corvette. In 1962, Jim Shepherd killed the beast. The next year, his juvenile delinquent little brother Richie hopes to repeat his success. Yet, after befriending a young black girl named Kelly, Richie begins to question this tradition. He soon discovers that the Harvester Guild, the council that runs the town, hides a dark secret and that Sawtooth Jack is more than he appears to be.

I'd wager it's likely that Partridge's novel was at least partially inspired by Shirley Jackson's “The Lottery.” Much like that classic, “Dark Harvest” transposes the ancient ritual of human sacrifice into a midwestern small town. That it's always young men who must fight Sawtooth Jack, the elders of the town sending boys on the verge of adulthood to die, the blood of the young insuring the growth of the crops, brings all sorts of pagan rites to mind. Slade's films goes even further by contrasting this folkloric custom with small town Americana. Setting “Dark Harvest” in the sixties allows for all sorts of classically American sights – jocks in letterman jackets, teenage greasers, vintage cars, an old movie theater and, yes, hellraising youths on Halloween night – to co-exist alongside this macabre tradition. Just as Jackson pointed out, contrasting what we think of as modern American life with blood rituals to ensure a healthy harvest is both a disturbing parallel and suggests we really haven't come so far from those days after all.

Life in this small town seems to revolve around the annual Halloween Run, which is where the film's most obvious but most interesting point emerges. As soon as the sheriff – played by Luke Kirby doing a very odd vocal inflection – ramps up a high school gymnasium full of kids for the contest, it's clear that this ritual serves as a system of control over the town's youth by those in power. If you want to be a good citizen of this town, you do not question the logic of murdering a pumpkin monster every October. Those that question this assumption are shouted down, mocked, or called slurs. Just in case this was too subtle for the viewer, the protagonist also gets involved in an interracial romance in 1963, which is naturally poorly received by his peers. It's all a big metaphor for the restrictive nature of society, how rules and social pressures meld us into a good little conformists that never question the status quo. This all becomes more apparent the more we learn about Sawtooth Jack.

It's possible that “Dark Harvest's” monster movie metaphor only goes so far. Once Sawtooth Jack emerges from the cornfield and goes on his annual rampage, this becomes a straight-ahead enough creature feature. The pumpkin headed entity is brought to life through a clever mixture of practical effects and CGI, bringing the visual of a Jack-O-Lantern topped scarecrow to mind while appearing to be something far fleshier up close. Sometimes his head glows too, which is also pretty cool. Much bloody carnage ensues, as the monster literally rips people apart in various ways. By the time the confrontation between the hero and the creature arrives, you understand what a threat he is. David Slade's direction, as it did in “30 Days of Night,” sometimes veers too much towards the shaky. However, he knows when to focus in.

I'm a simple man. If you promise me a movie where a cool looking beastie tears folks to shreds and then deliver on that, I'm satisfied. “Dark Harvest” could probably lay on the autumnal atmosphere a little more. Some pumpkins on people's stoops, Halloween masks, and a key role for candy is about the extend of the October 31st trappings here. But I'm not going to complain too much. The script has a fun concept and enough layers to give me something to chew on. It's executed with a degree of style and competency to hit the mark. The surf rock soundtrack features Baron Daemon. I really wish “Dark Harvest” hadn't gotten buried, as I totally think horror fans would've made this a cult classic. Lost on streaming, I'm doubtful it'll ever find an audience. But watched late at night on October 31st, when my belly is full of Halloween candy? Yep, this satisfies for sure. [7/10]

When you spent all of October and most of September writing about horror movies, it doesn't make the night of the 31st that special. Was this Halloween really that different from any of the other ones? And I guess not. Was this season all that different from previous ones? The truth is it really wasn't. Just like always, I got behind schedule and had to do some last minute shuffling to get every day in. Still, I enjoyed it. 

Ya know, I can't help but get spiritual about Halloween. It's a lot more than just a holiday to me. More than just an excuse to indulge my love of horror. It's the time when my heart comes alive, when I feel young again, like it's the first time every year. Since the Halloween Horror-Fest Blog-A-Thon is the main thing I do during these spooky weeks, it has become an important part of the most important time of the year for me. Staying up until dawn, watching and writing about spooky bullshit, feels like the best way to bid one half of the year goodbye and welcome the next. Halloween leaves me exhausted but renewed as well. Like a vampire drifting back to its tomb, with a belly full of virgin blood, I am ready to sleep. I am also ready to face the next full moon, my meter refilled for another year. Goodnight, Halloween. Good morning, November 1st. Same time next year? Absolutely.