Halloween 2020: October 28th

Scare Me (2020)

As I've pointed out roughly a hundred times already, the horror omnibus movie is alive and well in the 21st century. In fact, it's getting to the point where I'm almost tired of the idea. It seems like just about every spin on the genre has been done at this point. Interweaving stories? Dead and done. Famous directors handling each tale? Driven into the ground. Doing stories based on holidays/letters of the alphabet/found footage? Please. At this point, it must seem like there is no new variation on the “collection of macabre tales” premise. Yet, here in 2020, I think someone has cooked up a clever new take. “Scare Me” played some festivals earlier in the year and picked up decent buzz. Josh Ruben's film would arrive on Shudder a while back and, as Halloween creeps ever closer, this sounded like just the perfect spooky gift to myself.

Fred is a would-be writer, though he's never successfully completed a story. He rents a cabin in the rural countryside, not long after a snow has covered the land. He finds the isolation doesn't help him nearly as much as he hoped. While out on a run, he meets Fanny, an author of a recently published and critically acclaimed zombie novel. Later that night, there's a power outage. Fanny comes over and suggests, out of boredom, that the two tell scary stories in order to pass the time. They weave various tales – about werewolves, creepy grandpas, trolls, demon-possessed pop stars – and are even joined by an enthusiastic pizza boy. Yet, as the night goes on, some tension begins to grow between the two.

“Scare Me” finds a clever riff on the horror anthology premise by approaching it from the inside out. This is not a movie so much about a collection of scary stories. It's about the people telling the scary stories, essentially making it an anthology where the framing device is the main feature. Making this approach even more interesting is how the movie brings the stories to life. As Fred tells his werewolf tale, we hear the sound effects as he dramatically pantomimes. We'll see a werewolf claw reach out of the darkness but mostly it's just the actors, their voices, music and sound telling these tales. “Scare Me” has fun playing with this idea. Most of the stories are cut off before the end, so we never learn the exact details of Fred's werewolf hunter or Fanny's haunted granddaughter. When telling their tale of a troll inside the walls of a “edible basket” business, Fred crawls around and does a creepy voice. This elastic approach to storytelling reaches its delightful peak when a musical number breaks out during the demonic pop star story, a wonderfully unexpected occurrence.

The truth is, though, “Scare Me” isn't actually about its stories. It's about the interaction between the storytellers. From the opening scene, the film has a somewhat shrill sense of humor. Fred's Uber driver tells a rambling version of her own novel, repeatedly mispronouncing James Cameron's last name. Sometimes, Fred and Fanny come across as intensely unlikable people. Fred has some obvious hang-ups about women and a lack of original ideas. Fanny is a snobby hipster at times, dismissing other people's ideas and shitting on “Silver Bullet.” Yet their feuding personalities eventually reveal a mirror into the creative process. Fanny writes stories to attack the injustices she sees in the world, focusing her tales on abusive men and creepy authority figures. Fred writes stories to right wrongs in his personal life, giving himself a more interesting childhood origin or reorganizing romantic turbulence. Both, ultimately, are motivated by largely petty reasons. 

Inevitably, the tension between the two boils over. The differences between the two – Fanny is successful, Freddy isn't, Freddy is a bitter man, Fanny is a vocal woman – only grow more pronounced. At first, the two can be playful about it. However, that ugly discomfort can only stay hidden for so long. The film hints at a darker history for Freddy but backs away. No, he's not a serial killer. He's just a resentful, mediocre white man. Fanny's not entirely without fault either but the bubbling discourse between them effectively sets up a thrilling, uncertain final segment. “Scare Me” had largely been a goofy horror/comedy before this point yet it successfully generates unease in these final scenes. Befitting the structure “Scare Me” has set up before this point, this last act concludes on an uncertain and amusingly off-hand manner. 

The reviews of “Scare Me” have been mixed. How much you like the movie seems to depend on how much you can relate to the abrasive characters. I personally see too much of myself in both of these assholes to dislike them totally. Josh Ruben and Aya Cash's performances are studied and frequently hilarious. As a flip on a familiar genre format, “Scare Me” is clever. As a wacky horror/comedy, it got a lot of laughs out of me too. As an examination of male entitlement and toxicity, it's not as bright as it thinks it is but still manages to cook up an interesting conclusion. Two out of three ain't bad. If you're a head-up-your-ass writer type too, you should probably give this one a look. [7/10]

Daigoro vs. Goliath (1972)

Kaijû daifunsen: Daigorou tai Goriasu

By the start of the seventies, Japan's “kaiju boom” was essentially over. At that point, the only giant monster movies being released theatrically were part of long-running series like “Godzilla” and “Gamera.” And those series were becoming increasingly cheap and childish, furthering the public opinion that kaiju movies were primarily for little kids by this point. Perhaps this is because giant monster shows were popular on television, commercially diluting the idea as it were. In 1972, Toho would team up with Tsuburaya Productions, the creators of the wildly popular “Ultraman,” to make a brand new kaiju movie. That film, “Daigoro vs. Goliath,” would be pitched entirely at the grade school set, easily ranking as one of the goofiest of all Japanese monster flicks. 

Some time ago, a giant monster emerge from the sea and started wrecking Japan. The military successfully killed the creature with a missile... Only to discover that she was a mom and left behind a baby kaiju. Quickly named Daigoro, the infant monster became a ward of the state. Years later, Daigoro is growing larger and eating more food, starting to exceed the budget afforded to feeding him. Kids try to raise money for the monster, while an eccentric inventor hopes to win a contest and use his winnings for the same cause. When another monster falls from outer space, the weather controlling Goliath, Daigoro is recruited to help save the day. But is the still juvenile monster up to the fight?

Including “Daigoro vs. Goliath” in a horror movie marathon is stretching the definition of “horror.” This film is largely an extremely silly comedy targeted exclusively at young children. The slapstick antics of the inventor are often hard to swallow. A sequence devoted to him riding a rocket-powered bike he's made goes on for way too long, concluding with a farcical explosion. A later scene, where he tries to invent “magic shoes,” is similarly long-winded and ludicrous. (Though energetically directed, if nothing else.) “Daigoro vs. Goliath's” comedy isn't just based in kid-friendly wackiness. Several scenes are devoted to a supporting character, a portly alcoholic, trying to give up the booze. At one point, he imagines a beer billboard coming to life and handing him a drink. Later, he's so desperate for sake that he drinks hot springs water instead. That's the kind of subplot you probably wouldn't see in an American kids movie. 

“Daigoro vs. Goliath” was originally conceived as a Godzilla movie, in which he'd right a creature call Redmoon. Ultimately, I'm glad the King of the Monster was cut from this one as the kaiju action is fairly underwhelming. Daigoro is an exceptionally goofy looking beast, more hippo or dog than fearsome dragon. He spends most of the movie sleeping or rubbing his grumbling tummy. Goliath, who is only in three scenes, is an indistinct blue dinosaur with a big horn. His arms flop around in an unconvincing manner. Save for a few hilariously awkward drop kicks, the fight scenes between the two are underwhelming, with Daigoro's defeat of Goliath being especially anticlimactic. Yet “Daigoro vs. Goliath” does feature one or two clever gags. The scenes devoted to Daigoro's mother, who resembles both a cat and a snake, are cool. A close-up of Goliath's nostrils flaring is neat. Lastly, a sequence devoted to Daigoro using an enormous water closest the government has built him truly must be seen to be believed. 

Even Daigoro's kaiju-sized outhouse is not the craziest thing about this film. No, the wildest thing about “Daigoro vs. Goliath” is that, no matter how childish most of the movie is, it still concerns itself with the serious issues the rest of the kaiju genre is built around. Daigoro's Mother was awoken by a crashed nuclear submarine. When the idea of dropping a nuclear bomb on Goliath is considered, many express concern that this would destroy the biology of the ocean. A minor supporting character even questions if mankind will exist much longer on Earth, if we continue to disrespect the natural order of the world. Not to mention part of the film's plot involves the government's reluctance in paying to feed a giant monster. Which leads to little kids badgering a businessman into donating to their cause. Even a Japanese monster movie as childish as this one can't escape the spectre of nuclear annihilation and civilization being out-of-order that birthed the subgenre. 

Even though “Daigoro vs. Goliath” is technically a kaiju movie from the creators of “Godzilla,” it has never been officially distributed in the United States. You'd think somebody would've tried to stick this on DVD or Blu-Ray, seeing as how kaiju fans tend to be a comprehensive sort. Luckily, a subtitled copy found its way onto Youtube recently. It's probably among the more inessential kaiju flicks I've seen and certainly nowhere near as epic as you'd expect from a collaboration between Toho and the “Ultraman” studio. It does feature far less scenes of kids in tiny shorts running around and yelling than the contemporary Godzilla and Gamera flicks, which is a factor in its favor. (Though there are several juvenile songs instead.) I'm still glad I had a chance to check this oddball obscurity out. [6/10]

A Return to Salem's Lot (1987)

Stephen King movies are, of course, legion. I doubt the man himself could name all the adaptations of his work. Yet even stranger are the subcategory of sequels to Stephen King movies. With the rare exception of “Doctor Sleep,” most of the sequels to King-related works are barely connected to the famous author's words. The majority, like the roughly ten thousand “Children of the Corn” sequels or “The Rage: Carrie 2,” are purely mercenary cash-ins that attach a prominent name to an otherwise unrelated film. It's not like anybody was really asking for two sequels to “The Mangler,” ya know? Occasionally, a sequel to a King movie pops up that at least has a notable director attached. Whatever you may think of its quality, “Pet Sematery Two” is boosted by having Mary Lambert in the director's chair. Similarly, a second “Salem's Lot” movie – the unprecedented example of a television mini-series getting a theatrically released sequel – has gained some extra cult cred because Larry Cohen directed it. 

Documentary filmmaker Joe Weber is called away from a jungle adventure because his ex-wife and her new husband are tired of dealing with their delinquent son, Jeremy. Not knowing what else to do with the kid, Joe drives to his childhood home town: Jerusalem's Lot in Maine. Upon arriving, Joe realizes the town is different. The locals are hostile to outsiders. People disappear at night. Most of the townsfolks don't seem to come out during the day. Soon, the residents of Salem's Lot reveal their true vampiric nature. They invite Joe to write their history, while Jeremy quickly becomes integrated into the undead lifestyle. Yet the writer soon realize he's made a mistake and that the bloodsuckers plan to steal their lives and their souls. 

“A Return to Salem's Lot” has almost nothing to do with Stephen King's original book or Tobe Hooper's mini-series. No, the Nosferatu-like Mr. Barlow is not in the movie, despite being on the poster. What “A Return to Salem's Lot” does have is Larry Cohen's trademark social commentary. The vampires in Salem's Lot have been here for centuries, coming over at the same time as the pilgrims. They have amassed considerable wealth over the years. Any undesirables that wander through town are quickly killed and drained. Their human prey are directly compared to cattle. As petty revenge against Joe, the vamps begin to kill innocent passer-bys again. They justify their cruelty by trying to insist they were being “reasonable” before. By the way, the cops are also their mindless slaves. If all of that was too subtle for you, Cohen makes sure all the most powerful vampires are old white authority figures. (There are, notably, no black people in Salem's Lot.) Making the rich and powerful bloodsuckers simply literalizes what they do anyway. Cohen ends the film by impaling the master vampire with an American flag, making his opinion on capitalists and where they belong in the American tradition all the more obvious. 

While Cohen's smart-ass subtext is as sly as ever, other elements of “A Return to Salem's Lot” are less compelling. This film would be a cap-off to the series of eighties collaborations between Cohen and Michael Moriarty. Moriarty, naturally, makes an impression in his opening scene. He refuses to stop the tribal sacrifice he's recording and punches out his cameraman when he calls him an asshole. When the boy is introduced, he's just as foul-mouthed and attitude-driven as his dad. Which is pretty funny. However, “A Return to Salem's Lot” soon looses sight of the father/son angle. Joe is seduced by his childhood crush, who never forgot about him and considers him age-appropriate now. Jeremy, meanwhile, takes a liking to his vampire neighbors without much reason. The father's decision to protect his child is a dramatic shift the script never justifies. Joe just arbitrarily changes his mind when it's time for the last act to kick in. Moriarty is compelling as ever, though Ricky Addison Reed – in his sole screen appearance – is a little wooden as Jeremy.

As a horror movie, “A Return to Salem's Lot” is fairly low-key. The vampires are immediately introduced sucking on some New Wave teens, so the slow reveal of Hooper's mini-series is not present. While some scenes are memorably off-beat – a group of child vampires attacking two men, a wedding between two of the young vampires – the film is never scary or especially gory. Midway through the film, Cohen introduces an elderly traveler named Van Meer, played by legendary indie director Samuel Fuller. Fuller soon reveals himself as a “not a Nazi hunter, a Nazi killer.” It only continues Cohen's point to discover that some of the vamps were Nazis too. At that point, “A Return to Salem's Lot” becomes full-fledged monster movie fun. The last act, devoted to Moriarty and Fuller traveling around town and staking vampires or dousing them with holy water, is gooey creature feature entertainment. Fuller is fantastically entertaining. The vampire make-up, which becomes more grotesque as the film goes on, are amusingly gooey. If the whole movie had been like this, it would be a beloved cult classic. 

Upon release, “A Return to Salem's Lot” was widely loathed. People were seemingly insulted that the movie was largely unrelated to King's novel. Much like 1987's other Moriarty/Cohen team-up, “It's Alive III,” “A Return to Salem's Lot” was intended for the direct-to-video market before Warner Bros changed their mind and gave it a limited theatrical release instead. Thanks to video rentals and countless cable airings, the quasi-sequel would acquire a cult following over the years. It's not the high-light of Cohen's career and one does get the impression that he wasn't terribly invested in the material, which is probably why he made it so completely his own. Yet, once it gets rolling in the second half, “A Return to Salem's Lot” is still an enjoyable time for fans of eighties horror flicks and vampire shenanigans. [7/10]

Death Metal (2017)

It's definitely time to introduce some metal into the season. “Death Metal,” an absurdist horror/comedy short from 2017, begins with a pretty funny image. That would be a death metal guitarist attempting to shred some doomy riffs for tips in the park. This, predictably, does not go well for him. That's when his dad presents him with an ancient family heirloom: A black guitar made from a pentagram and a battle axe. It was forged by the devil in exchange for their grandfather's soul. The guitar will gift its player with amazing skill but comes with three rules. You can only play it at night. You can't use it to make money. And you can't do that pose where you pretend the guitar is your dick. Lars immediately breaks all three rules, unleashing gory mayhem in the park. 

Only being five minutes long, there's not a lot to “Death Metal.” About half of its brief runtime is devoted to setting up its premise. The second half revolves around the carnage the guitar reaps in the park. The battle axe shoots off and gorily tears through random people in the park. This is the kind of outrageous gore comedy that horror fans love. “Death Metal” happily, sarcastically rips through a series of taboos. Each time the flying axe – shot in energetic close-ups as it soars through the air – collides with someone, bodies are torn apart and blood spews everywhere. It's elaborate slapstick special effects comedy. The best gag involving a huge hole being blasted through someone's chest only for another guy to have his face pushed through this hole. Naturally, the death metal guy's reaction to this is amusement. But don't worry, he gets what's coming to him. The special effects are obviously gruesome but cartoony enough that they amuse, instead of disturbing. “Death Metal” only has one joke but extends that joke as far as it can before wrapping up just in time. Rock on. [7/10]

Halloween 2020: September 27th

The Amityville Horror (2005)

When Michael Bay and Samuel Fuller formed Platinum Dunes, they had the incredibly cynical objective of taking well-known eighties and seventies properties and making them as slick as possible for modern audiences, for maximum profits. Their first assault on good taste was the 2003 remake of “Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” fittingly one of the most cynical films ever made. But this naked cash grab worked, as the blasphemous “Chainsaw” remake was a big box office earner. For their second redo, Platinum Dunes at least decided to remake a movie that wasn't very good. I was somewhat optimistic, in 2005, that “The Amityville Horror” could be improved upon. My high hopes were misplaced, as the remake of "The Amityville Horror" manages to be even shittier than some of those sequels.

2005's “Amityville Horror” follows the same general outline as the original. Ronald DeFio, at the urging of demonic voices, murders his entire family at 112 Ocean Avenue, Long Island. One year later, the Lutz family moves in. At first, the family of five is overjoyed by are soon disturbed by bizarre, supernatural incidents. George Lutz is especially targeted by the house's evil spirits. The biggest differences is that the remake greatly downplays the religious elements. The Catholic priest is reduced to two scenes. The demonic activity is given the origin of real life historical figure Jeremiah Ketcham. Jody the demonic pig is changed out for a little ghost girl and the red room under the stairs becomes a more muted affair. The walls still bleed though.

The “Amityville Horror” remake was directed by Andrew Douglas, who had previously done the documentary “Search for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus” and a number of music videos. If Douglas had a distinct visual style of his own, it's forced out by the stock-parts Platinum Dunes approach. The remake has the same overdone visual approach as the studio's “Texas Chainsaw” remake. Everything is gray or sickly green or slimy black. There's even that 2000s horror cliché of a shot of the sky swirling by overhead. The sound design is cranked up to eleven, every creak thundering on the soundtrack, every ominous whisper a scream. This is paired with a pounding, unrelenting musical score. The editing is frantic, especially in the almost unwatchable opening flashback. Ridiculous jump scares appear every few minutes, a spooky ghost girl, demonic face, or creepy hands leaping on-screen anytime there's a moment of quiet.

Because subtly isn't in the Platinum Dunes glossary, their “Amityville Horror” embiggens the famous scares from the original. Now a tidal wave of flies burst from the air vents. Blood leaks from the wall at every given opportunity. The babysitter locked in the closest is now an extended sequence involving the ghost child. That spooky ghost girl is a new horror cliché added to the “Amityville” stew. The remake seems especially enamored of her, as she floats in the window, makes goofy faces, shows off her bullet wound, and vamps in the most obnoxiously loud ways possible. Because this was 2005, an element of gory torture horror is somehow inserted into this haunted house story. The red room in the basement has been replaced with Ketcham's torture chamber, where George gets visions of mutilated Native Americans and is then showered with blood. 

As much stupid bullshit as the 2005 “Amityville Horror' adds to the pre-exisiting story, it doesn't attempt to fix one of the original's biggest flaws. George Lutz is still an asshole. Yes, the evil spirits in the house cause him to abuse his step-kids and badger his wife but that still doesn't make him sympathetic. Ryan Reynolds is woefully miscast in the part. Reynolds attempts to add some of his trademark snark to early scenes but it does little to enliven the character. As a man whose sanity is threatened by an evil house, Reynolds is far from convincing. (His sculpted, six pack abs also stick out like a sore thumb in the seventies setting but it's not like Platinum Dunes cared about that.) Melissa George is only moderately better, giving a histrionic performance as Kathy. A tiny Chloe Moretz, as the youngest daughter, is probably among the film's more convincing casting choices.

While I'm doubtful the Platinum Dunes team ever thought much about this kind of thing, 2005's “Amityville Horror” does update the original's subtext in almost an interesting way. The original “Amityville” was all about the stresses of owning a new house, how a dream home can turn into a living nightmare through nickeling and diming you. The remake, meanwhile, is about how you never really know your new husband or stepdad. The kids are suspicious of George, uncertain if he can replace their dead dad. (Dead parents are, apparently, a reoccurring pattern in this series.) Once he comes under the house's influence, it's clear he's not fit to be their dad. This throws Kathy for a loop too, as her loving husband turns into an abusive jerk, who can't even perform sexually. If the remake had run with this, it might've been something interesting. Instead, these ideas are dropped by the abrupt ending.

If I have to find something good to say about 2005's “The Amityville Horror,” it'll be these tidbits. A scene involving Rachel Nichols as an oversexed babysitter is mildly funny. Also, the remake is considerably shorter than the original, running only ninety minutes long. The ever litigious (real life) George Lutz would sue the producers of the remake. Apparently, he didn't appreciate the new film turning him into a dog-murderer who threatened his step kids with a shotgun. It's a really a testament to the shittiness of Platinum Dunes' style that they managed to make an “Amityville Horror' movie not only worst than the original but worst than any of the previous sequels. Thus is the power of garbage bag, 2000s-era studio horror. [3/10]

The Green Slime (1968)

It seems to me that the 1960s is when the international film market really opened up. English language pop culture icons – like Batman, the Beatles, and James Bond – became hugely popular all over the globe. Similarly, films from other countries start to filter into the United States to great success. As far as trashy genre fair goes, Japanese and Italian movies started to make an impact on the U.S. market. In 1966, MGM co-produced a quartet of science fiction films with Italian director Antonio Margheriti, about a space station called Gamma One. In 1968, MGM would take this idea – the space station renamed Gamma Three – to Japan. Partnering with Toei and director Kinji Fukasaku, the resulting film would be “The Green Slime.” 

The crew of near-Earth space station Gamma Three includes the courageous Commander Rankin, the combative Commander Elliot, and nurse Dr. Benson, whom both men are pursuing. Soon, the space station becomes aware of a large planetoid on a collision course with Earth. An astronaut team, including Rankin and Elliot, are dispatched to explode the giant space rock before it crashes into the Earth. That would be enough story for most films but “Green Slime” is just getting started. A moss-like green sludge grows on the planetoid and sticks to an astronaut's suit. Aboard the space station, it grows into a one-eyed space monster who shoots electricity and consumes energy. It also multiplies rapidly, putting the whole station at risk.

In many way, “The Green Slime” is a science fiction monster movie very typical of its era. This is an anti-septic future where people can wear mini-skirts and go-go dance on their space station. Intergalactic travel is as easy as jumping on a bus and astronauts just need to strap into their seats during escape velocity. The movie just stops short of depicting smoking in the future. The most expected of its expected story beats is the love triangle between Rankin, Elliot and Benson. The audience can immediately figure out which of the guys will end up with the (subservient, often panicking) woman, and that the alien threat will trim this threesome down to two. That doesn't stop the movie from including its fair share of bickering among the trio.

Yet the love triangles are not the reason you watch old sci-fi movies like this. It's for the delightfully hokey special effects. The miniature effects are not up to the standard of what Toho was doing around the same time, the space station often looking like a toy on strings. Yet there's something charmingly retro about the sets, especially the sequences on the rogue planet's rocky, red surface. The titular green slime is the main attraction here. Their single red eye, dome-shaped heads, and whipping collection of tentacles are pretty neat looking. They awkwardly stumble around the sci-fi sets, sparks flying from their tentacles. Most amusingly, the Green Slime make a comical chirping noise everywhere they go. Undeniably cheesy, the monsters are nevertheless charming in their own way.

Kinji Fukasaku would direct “The Green Slime” long before he made the yakuza movies that would make him famous. Even early in his career, Fukasaku's direction is colorful and energetic. He frequently adopts askew angles during the scenes of the Green Slime rampaging through the space station. Crash-zooms are utilized several times, to emphasize the impact of an explosion or attack. Memorably, the camera spins around when characters leap under a closing blast door. Or during the climax, where multiple astronauts float around in outer space while blasting the monsters with laser guns. It's extremely goofy but also fleet-footed and energetic, which suits the monster-filled material just fine. 

If the funky, silly, but undeniably fun tone “The Green Slime” is going for wasn't immediately apparent, the movie has a wonderfully ridiculous psychedelic theme song that plays at the beginning and end. The groovy guitars and melodramatic wails of “Green slimeeeeeeee!!!” are simply unforgettable. When I first saw “The Green Slime” on late night television – maybe the ideal way to see it – that theme song stuck with me more than even the lovably goofy monsters. The American cut runs a brief 89 minutes but, amusingly, the Japanese version is even shorter. Apparently it cuts out the love triangle and focuses exclusivity on the creature feature action. Never let it be said that Japanese genre filmmakers don't know what side of their bread is buttered. [7/10]

One Step Beyond: The Clown

Another important but often overlooked predecessor to “The Twilight Zone” – debuting nine months before it – is “One Step Beyond.” The anthology series ran for three years on ABC, from 1959 to 1961. “One Step Beyond” would distinguish itself from other fantastical anthology shows by claiming all of its stories were based on “true” accounts of the paranormal. (This makes it something of a predecessor to the later, and equally full-of-shit, “Beyond Belief.”) Each episode was directed and hosted by John Newland, who would grimly introduce each story with a documentary segment before the scripted scenes started. The show is almost forgotten today though I can recall seeing it on television rarely when I was a kid, probably owning to its semi-public domain status. Once again, I looked up the highest rated episodes of the show to make my selection. I decided 'The Clown,” from season two, sounded like a good choice for the Halloween season. 

“The Clown” begins with Tom Regan and his young wife, Nonnie, entering a bar. Tom is so insanely jealous that Nonnie so much as looking at another man can drive him into a rage. A carnival happens to be in town at the exact same time the couple get into a fight. Nonnie ends up befriending a mute clown named Pippo. When Tom catches Pippo and his wife innocently talking in his trailer, he stabs the girl to death. Pippo is left locked up, waiting for the cops to come. Yet Tom sees Pippo ominously looming behind him every time he looks in the mirror, the grinning clown drawing closer every time.

I wanted to watch “The Clown” because I figured it was an early example of the killer clown cliché. Which it is, though not quite how you might expect. Pippo begins as a benevolent figure, passing out balloons and making Nonnie laugh. But his painted face is uncanny enough of a sight that it easily becomes creepier once Tom's guilt begins to manifest. The episode takes way too long to get going, as the mysterious events don't begin happening until the show is half-way over. Tom is such a ridiculous asshole that it's hard to take him serious. Yet the central image of a threatening clown looming in mirrors is insanely creepy. It's more than enough to keep this brief half-hour afloat, even if Newland's melodramatic host segments border on the campy. 

Some have suggested that this episode might've inspired Stephen King's “IT.” I don't know about that – there's certainly plenty of other killer clown stories King might've drawn from – but I can say for certain another prominent storyteller was influenced by this episode. “Mirror, Mirror,” Martin Scorsese's episode of “Amazing Stories," was obviously inspired by this one. Several moments, like the clown appearing in the rear-view mirror of Tom's car, where directly ripped for the later episode. Scorsese did the same idea a little better but Pippo the Clown is way creepier than the fedora-clad villain the later director dreamed up. [7/10]

Forever Knight: Trophy Girl

Since “Silence of the Lambs” was a major pop culture phenomenon in the early nineties, it's unsurprising that so many cop shows would draw inspiration from the famous film. “Forever Knight,” naturally, was not above this inclination. During a shoot-out with some drug dealers, Tracy Vetters kills an attacker. The same night, the gruesome evidence of a serial killer – a murdered call girl, her dismembered body left on the beach – is discovered. Nick meets with a famous incarcerated serial killer, known as the Mortician, to pick his brain about this copycat. Still traumatized by the death, Vetters uses her three days of leaves to go undercover at the escort agency in find the killer... Which is exactly what happens, as she's soon abducted by the madman. Using the tips from the other killer, Nick hopes to track down the copycat before it's too late.

A plot about a cop killing someone in the line of duty plays really differently today than it did back in 1995. Still, “Trophy Girl” is the first time I think I've actually been interested in Tracy Vetters. Her guilt over the death causing her to personally try and track the killer represents her being more active and less whiny than usual. Though this growth is more than a little undermined by her immediately being grabbed by the guy and spending the rest of the episode tied up. The scenes where Nick interacts with the Mortician, played by experienced Canadian television actor A.C. Peterson, are a little more compelling. The serial killer immediately recognizes Nick as fellow brother in bloodlust. A subplot about the killer reaching out to his “fans” through message boards is amusing, if only because it presents the internet as a new novelty. (The identity of the Mortician's biggest fan is easy to guess, though a decent reveal.) The final act is a little more gruesome than expected, as it features several decapitated heads in jars. I think this is probably going to end up being one of the better episodes of “Forever Knight's” third season. [7/10]

Halloween 2019: October 4th

Lake Mungo (2008)

In the mid-two thousands, horror movies were experiencing a renewed popularity. The DVD market was also still on the move up at the time, though those with any foresight probably figured the decline was coming soon. These two factors would combine with the After Dark Horrorfest, an annual festival of independent horror films that would play as a set in theaters before being released on DVD. While a cool idea conceptually, most of the After Dark movies ranged from utterly forgettable to outright awful. It got to the point where I pretty much dismissed any film associated with the brand. However, occasionally gems would sneak in under the label. When I started hearing positive notices about “Lake Mungo,” one of After Dark's 2008 offerings, I was surprised. So surprised it took me until now to get around to it.

Presented as a television documentary, “Lake Mungo” follows the Palmer family of Victoria, Australia. One year ago, sixteen year old daughter Alice disappeared while out swimming with her family. Though mother June is hopeful, father Russell is soon brought in to identify a corpse that is clearly Alice. In the days and months since then, the Palmer family starts to experience strange events. Younger brother Matthew, an obsessive videographer, captured what appeared to be a blurry photograph of Alice at the lake... After she disappeared. Throughout the house, he captures what appears to be Alice's ghost on video tape. June brings in a psychic to investigate but, instead, the family uncovers the secrets Alice concealed both in life and death.

“Lake Mungo” is entirely committed to verisimilitude, feeling one-hundred percent like an actual documentary in its editing, pacing, and tone. The actors all look, act, and sound like real people. This pitch-perfect loyalty to realism makes “Lake Mungo” incredibly creepy at times. Though not a real found-footage movie, the film is fascinated by blurry video footage and photographs, including those from cell phones. A trick the film exploits successfully repeatedly is slow-zooms into the background of these photos, revealing a spooky, ghostly image that wasn't immediately apparent before. Every time, this technique is really creepy, the film confidently presenting the unnerving presence of a ghostly girl existing alongside normal people. This is a haunted house story for the modern age, placing its ghosts thoroughly in the mundane context of suburban homes and wholesome vacation spots.

Writer/director Joel Anderson – currently his only feature credit – wares his influences on his sleeve. “Lake Mungo” is the modern descendant of “Ghostwatch,” with its presentation of being a regular TV broadcast, its spectre lurking in the background of shots, and a story reveal mid-way through that evidence has been hoaxed. Moreover, “Twin Peaks” was pretty clearly an inspiration, the family's last name being “Palmer” being the most obvious nod. This is the story of a teenage girl with a double life. Alice, we soon learn, was regularly having threesomes with the married couple next door. She was keeping “secrets about having secrets,” as one character puts it. Like Lynch's landmark program, “Lake Mungo” is about the darkness beneath suburban perfection, unsightly images lurking in the background that can only be ignored for so long.

Yet more than even that, “Lake Mungo” is a frank depiction of grief. June is so haunted by her daughter's passing, that she refuses to initially acknowledge she's even dead. After her daughter's corpse is exhumed, she begins to sleepwalk, wandering into stranger's homes. Actress Rosie Trayner portrays her as clearly still shell-shocked by the trauma of loosing her child. Alice's ghost lingers in the house, not immediately seen but always present. Like grief itself, the ghost can never be banished but must be lived with. The film gets right at the guts of what the ghost genre means, acknowledging the ghost's status as a lingering reminder of our own mortality.

Instead of looking at “Lake Mungo” as just another member of the AfterDark Horrorfest family – check out that exploitative, bikini-clad poster art they designed for the film – one should consider the film as part of the wave of Australian horror that sprung up last decade. It's certainly a different breed of horror than “Wolf Creek” or “The Loved Ones” but is another proud example of the wonderful genre efforts that were coming out of that country at the time. While some referring to “Lake Mungo” as one of the scariest movies ever made might be overstating it slightly, it's a fabulously creepy and fantastically subtle cinematic haunting. This ghost story is likely to linger in my mind for quite a bit longer. [8/10]

Latitude Zero (1969)

Even though I didn't much care for it, “Atragon” was clearly very successful for Toho. I suspect the movie was popular in both Japan and America. I say this because, towards the end of the decade, Toho would create a spiritual sequel of sorts as an international co-production. Don Sharp – perhaps better known for directing films like “Kiss of the Vampire” or “Curse of the Fly” – would offer to co-produce another sci-fi submarine creature feature. The cast would be an international affair too, with Toho stars like Akihiko Hirata and Akira Takarada appearing alongside known American actors like Joseph Cotton and Caesar Romero. This didn't exactly work out for Toho, as Sharp dropped out just as production was about to start, forcing the studio to go ahead with half the intended budget. Perhaps this is why “Latitude Zero” is usually overshadowed by its more well-known sort-of, kind-of predecessor.

Oceanic geology Dr. Tashiro, marine biologist Jules Masson, and journalist Perry Lawton dive into the ocean in a bathysphere. When this goes wrong, they are unexpectedly rescue by a mysterious submarine: The Alpha, outfitted with advanced technology and captained by Craig McKenzie. The crew of the Alpha claims to be 200 years old. They hail from Latitude Zero, an underwater utopia where the inhabitants – all ship-wreck survivors – never age or gets sick. The only threat to this perfect kingdom is Dr. Malic, an evil scientist with his own high-tech submarine, the Black Shark, who has a habit of creating horrific human/animal hybrids.

While American science fiction of the late sixties and early seventies grew increasingly apocalyptic, Japanese sci-fi of the same era seems way more optimistic. “Latitude Zero” presents its utopia without any subversion or dark edge. The film runs with the idea that, if people live forever, they'll have no use for greed, hatred, or interpersonal strife. Dr. Malic's evil is presented as an aberration. It just so happens most of the residents of Latitude Zero are genius scientists, who pass the time making scientific advancements like an artificial sun or a bath that heals all sickness. This utopian image is awash in swingin' sixties camp, naturally. The immortals wear a lot of golden swimsuits and jump on trampolines. Yet the film's depiction of human nature is ultimately upbeat and positive, reflecting Ishiro Honda's belief in world peace. Then again, “Latitude Zero” is basically a children's movie so you'd probably expect its philosophies to be fairly wholesome.

When the film isn't explaining its utopian ideas, it's throwing all sorts of crazy, fun, goofy sci-fi shit at the viewer. The first act doubles down on submarine battles, the u-boats spiraling through the murky depths and blasting missiles at each other. (Though none of them look as cool as the Gotengo.) Once the heroes go on the offensive against Malic, they outfit themselves with high-tech weapons. This include jet packs and suits with laser blasters built into the fingertips. The special effects, the penultimate Toho credit of Eiji Tsuburaya, are charmingly lo-fi. The monsters are similarly amusing. Such as the seven-foot tall bat humanoids, with their high-pitched shrieks, and the squirm-inducing man-sized rats. The star kaiju of the film is a giant lion/condor hybrid with a human's mind. (Just called a griffon in the dub but its official Japanese name is, confusingly, Black Moth.) While not the most convincing of Toho's monsters, the griffon is better executed and more interesting than Manda was in “Atragon.”

The international cast gives “Latitude Zero” a distinctively different atmosphere than a lot of Toho flicks. Probably because few of the actors are dubbed in the English cut. Takarada and Hirata actually speak very clear English, allowing their clear charisma to be truly shown off. Sometimes this backfires though. Hikaru Kuroki, as the henchwoman whose brain ends up in the giant griffon, has a very thick accent and clearly isn't comfortable on-screen. (This is her sole screen credit.) It's not just the Japanese actors who sometimes struggle with this. Mysterious exploitation siren Linda Haynes, in her debut role, is surprisingly wooden as the comely doctor aboard the Alpha. As for the big stars, Joseph Cotton is amusingly fatherly as the super-heroic Captain Makenzie. Caesar Romero has a lot of fun as the cackling, practically mustache twirling Dr. Malic.

It's interesting to me that “Latitude Zero” feels like such a divided film. All the sci-fi and giant monster stuff feels entirely like a classic Toho kaiju flick. The scenes of people hanging around futuristic buildings, on the other, feel much dryer and far more American. I guess the two styles didn't quite mesh. (It didn't dissuade Toho from trying again. In the mid-seventies, they attempted to make a movie called “Nessie” with Hammer, an unrealized collaboration I would've loved to have seen.) Though very goofy and ultimately extremely minor in the grand tapestry of Toho's monster movies, “Latitude Zero” is definitely a fun watch. In the loosely connected super-submarine duo – the presence of high-tech subs is the only linking fiber – I'll take it over “Atragon” any day. [6/10]

Tales from the Cryptkeeper: Too Cool for School

If the first episode of “Tales from the Cryptkeeper's” third season was ripping off a vintage “The Twilight Zone” episode, its second is directly inspired by “Jurassic Park.” A pair of teenage girls decide the rules don't apply for them and skip school, on the day they'll be dissecting frogs in science class. Instead, they wander into the swamp and meet a friendly if stern zoologist. The next day, the girls haphazardly mix frog eggs with dinosaur DNA – which is quite literally just sitting in a fridge at the school. This creates a pack of mutated frog/dinosaur hybrids, who proceed to chase the girls through the school and back into the swamp. The scene where they hide in the school meat locker is clearly ripping off Spielberg's dino-classic.

Now that the Cryptkeeper is directly interacting with the stories, the writers have gotten lazier. For the second episode in a row, the Cryptkeeper is directly responsible for introducing the monster and causes it to disappear at the end, being positioned as an arbitrator of justice against the disobedient youths. In this episode, I really noticed the downgrade in animation quality. The girl's blank stares and wide-eyes are way creepier than the dino-frogs. The preachy moral couldn't be more hammered into the viewer's head. The weirdly literal presentation of this moral – kids, don't skip school or dinosaur-frogs will try and eat you – seems to negate the goal though. (For added educational value, the zoologist character talks a little about conservation.) About the only thing I like about this episode are the dino-frogs themselves. They look like raptors with hoppity frog legs, which is pretty cute. [4/10]

Forever Knight: Partners of the Month

“Partners of the Month” represents “Forever Knight” in an uncharacteristically light-hearted mod. Schanke and his often-referenced but rarely seen wife Myra are going through a rough stretch. The arguments get so bad that they actually separate. This is bad news for Nick, as Schanke haphazardly moves into his apartment. Knight has to hastily hide his vampiric nature. Schanke's relationship problems also start to affect his police work. This is most noticeable because their current case involves a workaholic, with a number of mistresses, who was mysteriously shot dead while his wife waited upstairs.

Seeing “Forever Knight” cut loose with a goofier episode is a nice change of pace. (Though the show's visual presentation remains ever gloomy and dark.) The scenes devoted to Schanke barging into Nick's apartment, or the two attempting to co-habitat, are pretty funny. A breakfast sequence shows off Geraint Wyn-Davies' rarely seen talent for deadpan facial reactions. They quickly begin to bicker like an old married couple, a good gag. Once Schank uncovers the true killer – the murder mystery this weak is truly superfluous – Nick acts behind the scene to give his parent some glory, a cute touch. The scene where Schank drowns his sorrow at Jenette's vampire club are amusing too. The flashback sequence are devoted to Nick and Jenette breaking up during the Renaissance, showing even vampires have bad break-ups apparently. [7/10]

Halloween 2019: October 3rd

Atragon (1963)

In 2014, I devoted a large chunk of my Halloween Horror-Fest Blog-a-Thon to review as many kaiju movies as I could get my hands on. During that marathon, I managed to watch all the sci-fi/monster movies Ishiro Honda would direct for Toho in the sixties and seventies... Except for one. For whatever reason, 1963's “Atragon” proved surprisingly hard to find. The DVD was out-of-print at the time, with asking prices well outside the range of reasonable. The film was certainly not streaming on any legitimate website and I couldn't even find it on any of the sketchy, pirated video sites I frequented at the time. Every Halloween season since then, I've looked for a copy of “Atragon,” always coming up empty-handed each time. Either Tokyo Shock re-issued its DVD recently or Amazon is now selling convincing bootlegs, because “Atragon” finally popped up for a decent price. Whatever the reason why, I have now seen every sci-fi/kaiju flick Honda made for Toho.

Mysterious events are happening all around Japan. A late night photography session is interrupted when a car drives into the sea. Strange men in unusual diving suits surface out of the ocean. Strange cab drivers with touches that can burn attempt to abduct people. Earthquakes shake cities. It soon becomes evident that the underwater civilization of Mu – once a technologically advanced continent that sunk below the ocean centuries ago and worship a dragon god called Manda – is threatening the surface world. They demand that a high-tech submarine called the Atragon, AKA the Gotengo, be surrender to them... Along with absolute control of the entire globe. The Atragon has been built by a rogue Japanese Naval officer, who refuses to relinquish it. A special team is assembled to convince him and stop Mu from destroying the surface world.

Though best remembered for the first appearance of kaiju Manda, the giant sea serpent is really incidental to “Atragon's” plot. “Atragon” doesn't just want to be a kaiju movie. The film is best described as a science fiction adventure, with its conflict between a scientifically advanced lost society and our slightly less advanced surface technology. Yet it's also a fantasy, as the Muans hang out in temples, wear robes, and worship a literal dragon. It has shades of a James Bond wannabe, with its brave heroes infiltrating villainous lairs and double agents being exposed. It's also a war movie of sorts, with long scenes devoted to a former World War II captain and his men preparing the bad-ass super submarine. None of these tones are combined in a satisfying form. Nor are these divergent plot points brought together into a coherent whole, leaving “Atragon's” story unwieldy and difficult to follow.

Long portions of “Atragon” is devoted to the conflict between Kusumi, a former admiral in the Japanese navy and now a believer in world peace, and Jinguji, the creator of the Atragon and a Japanese nationalist. Jinguji designed the Atragon to only be used by the Japanese navy. He's one of those legendary soldiers unaware that World War II ever ended. When he learns Japan surrendered, and disbanded its military, he's crestfallen. Initially belligerent and committed to his nationalistic goals, Jinguji is eventually convinced to allow the Atragon to help the entire world. This is interesting because it shows director Ishiro Honda, a fervent supporter of the United Nations, struggling against the strong militaristic elements in all these monster movies he's directed. “Atragon” tries to have its cake and eat it too, compromising its imperialistic past with its global future, showing why nationalism is bad but also allowing cool Japanese military guys to kick lots of ass.

It's really interesting but geopolitical debates is probably not what most people watching “Atragon” signed up for. The special effects are obviously the main attraction. Some of them are very impressive. The scaly diving suits the Muans wear are cool. A sequence devoted to earthquakes collapsing a city is fantastic. And, yes, the Gotengo/Atragon is a bad-ass flying submarine. Yet even these elements sometimes feel underwhelming. Manda is not an impressive kaiju, a mangy-looking puppet that awkwardly thrashes around before being quickly subdued by a freeze ray. The Gotengo doesn't actually do anything until the last third. It then completely steamrolls every adversary it comes up against, destroying the Mu forces in seemingly minutes. Which isn't very satisfying to watch from a narrative perspective. Despite their impressive weapons, the Muans are not smart villains. They make demands, chant and panic in their temples, and are then summarily crushed.

“Atragon” probably wasn't worth all the years I waited to see the movie. Its plot is convoluted, its pacing stop-and-go, and its central monster is underwhelming. Despite not being especially good, “Atragon” was pretty popular in Japan. The film's popularity was exactly why Manda was included in “Destroy All Monsters.” Toho would revisit the Gotengo several times, some version of the flying submarine appearing in “The War in Space,” “Godzilla: Final Wars,” and multiple video games. There was even a two-part anime spin-off called “Super Atragon” in the nineties. So maybe I'm the one who's wrong and this film is a beloved classic after all. [5/10]

Murders in the Rue Morgue (1971)

American International Pictures must've been pleased with “The Oblong Box” because, two years later, Gordon Hessler would return to direct the third film in this quasi-revival of the Poe Cycle. Though it's one of Poe's most famous stories, A.I.P had presumably not adapted “Murders in the Rue Morgue” yet because the 1932 Universal version was probably still in regular rotation on television. In large part due to that adaptation, Hessler had decided the story’s twist — an orangutan with a straight razor is the perp — was too well known. Thus, the new “Murders” would be a complete reinvention. Perhaps it strayed too far from the public’s conception. A.I.P.’s second wave of Poe films would end here.

Caesar Charron leads his Grand Guignol theater trope, currently adapting Poe’s “Murders in the Rue Morgue.” His current wife, Madeline, is the daughter of his previous wife. That woman was murdered by an another actor from the trope, Rene Marot, after she accidentally scarred his face with acid during a performance. Rene is thought dead, yet a masked madman with vengeance on his mind is pursuing Caesar and Madeline. While Caesar works with detectives to uncover the truth, Madeline is haunted by nightmares and hallucinations.

If that plot synopsis didn’t clue you in, Hessler’s “Murders in the Rue Morgue” has practically nothing to do with Poe’s story. The orangutan appears in the stage-play-within-the-movie, which itself is clearly more inspired by the 1932 film than the story, but that’s about it. Instead, the film haphazardly combines a number of elements from other unrelated sources. Poe’s fictional detective, Dupin, is replaced with his real life inspiration, Vidocq. The killer has an unhinged dwarf sidekick, clearly inspired by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec and implied to be the descendant of Poe’s Hop-Frog. In addition to his deformity and his broken heart, Rene Marot was further driven insane by being buried alive, which is becoming a bad cliche of these movies. Mostly, Hessler rips off “Phantom of the Opera,” with his story of a theater company haunted by a deformed, masked madman fond of fedoras, capes, and the leading lady. Hessler even cast Herbert Lom, who previously played the Phantom for Hammer, as Marot.

“Murders in the Rue Morgue” has its share of death and a notably horny scene set in a brothel but is generally less explicit than “The Oblong Box.” (Which its plot also resembles to a degree.) The main source of its horror is its many dream sequences. Some of which are, admittedly, pretty interesting. The film makes no distinction between Madeline’s dreams and her waking life. This sometimes gifts the film a lyrical quality, such as the repeated flashbacks to the death of Madeline’s mother. Or a long scene where the dwarf leads Madeline through an otherwise empty mansion. Too often, it just makes the story hard to follow though, further maddening the narrative waters.

This “Murders” does have a decent cast. Jason Robards, in a part pretty clearly designed for Vincent Price (who was having a pay dispute with A.I.P. at the time), stars as Caesar. Robards doesn’t go for camp but instead attempts to gift the character with a hound dog sense of regret. Yet the film constantly leaves the viewer uncertain of Caesar’s motivation, making it hard to relate to the character. Lom is better here than in Hammer’s confused, sentimental “Phantom.” He’s certainly an intimidating figure. Christine Kaufmann is properly wide-eyed as Madeline, the kind of beautiful and vulnerable lady audiences can latch onto. Michael Dunn is also pretty creepy as the dwarf.

Ending with a big, incoherent twist, 1971’s “Murders in the Rue Morgue” is a frustrating experience. It’s Poe in-name-only, making you wonder why A.I.P. didn’t just call the movie something else entirely. That’s a serious problem all of the second half of the Poe Cycle had, the films using ol’ Edgar’s name for marketing purpose and nothing else. While it has one or two interesting moments and a decent cast, the plot is largely presented in a baffling way, making these “Murders” an overall perplexing motion picture. [5/10]

Tales from the Cryptkeeper: Sharon Sharalike

After its second season, “Tales from the Cryptkeeper” was canceled by ABC, probably due to low ratings. (Though Disney's acquisition of the network, and subsequent reshuffling of its Saturday morning line-up, might've played a role as well.) However, just like an undead ghoul, “Tales from the Cryptkeeper” pulled itself from the grave when least expected it. For reasons I can find no satisfying explanation for, “Tales from the Cryptkeeper” was resurrected in 1999 – two years after the original “Tales from the Crypt” ended – on CBS. Now presented as “New Tales from the Cryptkeeper,” the show would undergo many changes. A new animation company would take over, resulting in a totally different, more cartoonish visual style. The Cryptkeeper would now interact with the characters in the story. Most pressing, in order to comply with new laws regarding educational content on children's television, the already ham-fisted moral lessons of “Tales from the Cryptkeeper” would become even more exaggerated and obvious.

Take a look at the season three premiere, “Sharon Sharalike,” for a good example of this. The episode concerns a bratty teenager girl who refuses to share her toys with her little sister. In the mail one day, an old talking doll named Sharon Sharalike arrives. Despite not even liking the doll, the older sister claims Sharon for her own. This is much to the younger girl's chagrin. When mom demands Sharon be shared, the older sister hides her instead. That night, the doll springs to life to teach the bratty girl a lesson.

I'll give “Sharon Sharalike” some credit. It is actually attempting to be scary. The scenes of the girl being chased by doll are trying to be suspenseful, even including a heartbeat sound effect. Sharon's cutesy monotone, clearly inspired by Talky Tina, could be seen as creepy to younger kids. However, it's hard to built too much suspense because the teen protagonist is such a hateful little bitch and Sharon is so obviously not a physical threat. She never wants to hurt the girl, just teach her a lesson. Yes, the moral about sharing could not be more hammered into the viewer's head. The new character designs are rather jarring, with their broad, sharp angles. But at least the Vaultkeeper and the Old Witch aren't around anymore. [5/10]

Forever Knight: Baby Baby

“Baby Baby” has Nick's past coming back to haunt him once again. While investigating a mysterious death at a construction site, Nick runs into Serena. At the turn-of-the-century, he turned Selena into a vampire when she was only asking him to get her pregnant. He feels pretty bad about this misunderstanding still. Serena is apparently still longing for a baby, as she's currently romantically involved with the murder suspect. Legends, as told by LaCroix, persist that a vampire can get pregnant – their mortality returned but the suitor left dead – by special men as long as the conception happens high in the sky and under the full moon. Turns out this guy has a third chromosome, prompting Nick to try and stop another killing before it happens.

“Baby Baby” – that's what you'd call a bad title – has some issues. Serena is clearly coded as a lesbian, as she dresses like a man in the flashbacks and works as a welder in the present, which makes her desire to have a baby kind of odd. The circumstances surrounding her becoming a vampire certainly make Nick look like kind of an impulsive idiot though. However, the idea that vampires have legends of their own is an interesting idea. Nick and LaCroix being forced to worked together, however briefly, is a good source of dramatics. Denise Virieux is effectively intense as Serena. Her confrontations with Nick make for good television. I also like a minor scene where Natalie and Schanke talk about the time he wrote a poem for a childhood crush. [7/10]

Halloween 2014: October 18

Space Amoeba (1970)
Gezora, Ganime, Kameba: Kessen! Nankai no daikaijû / Yog, Monster from Space

“Space Amoeba” is the end of an era. The public’s enthusiasm for giant monster movies, experienced just a few years earlier, had started to wane. By the end of the sixties and the start of a new decade, kaiju movies were widely considered kid’s stuff. “Space Amoeba” would be the last film produced under the studio’s old star system. It would be the last giant monster movie the studio made with an A-budget. It was the first of the studio’s creature features made after the death of effects master Eiji Tsuburaya. It was even meant to be Ishiro Honda’s final science fiction film, though the studio would lure him back in 1975 to direct “Terror of MechaGodzilla.” Aside from the remaining Godzilla sequels, the film was the last monster movie Toho would produce in the Showa period. The movie seems especially old fashion now and; with its plot of adventurous journalists, superstitious islanders, alien invaders, and super-sized sea creatures; was likely considered a throw-back even in 1970.

The movie begins when an unmanned space probe is sent to study Jupiter. Along the way, the ship is possessed by an amorphous alien consciousness. Under the space amoeba’s control, the probe returns to Earth, crashing in the south sea. Meanwhile, a photojournalist is talked into photographing Seigai Island for a tourist company. Along with his girlfriend, a scientist, and a businessman of questionable scruples, he is challenged by the local tribe. They are fearful the old gods might be angered by modern man’s invasion. Their prophecy seemingly comes true when giant monsters, normal sea life grown to huge size, attack the island. The creatures have been possessed by the same space amoeba that came to Earth on the probe, the first step in its planned conquest of the planet.

“Space Amoeba” is fairly derivative of Toho’s other monster flicks. The island setting recalls “Godzilla Versus the Sea Monster” and “Son of Godzilla.” The adventurer reporter is a hero type used in many Godzilla movies, including the aforementioned “Son.” The island natives, dancing and chanting in hopes of fending off a local deity’s offense, goes all the way back to the original “Gojira” but was also seen in “Varan,” “Mothra,” and “King Kong vs. Godzilla.” Akira Ifukube’s score recycles musical cues heard in the latter most films. The islander’s song will definitely sound familiar to kaiju faithfuls. The subplot, of greedy businessmen looking to capitalize on some unspoiled land, recalls the earliest Godzilla flicks of the sixties. The cast is full of familiar faces. Akira Kubo, Atsuko Takahashi, Yukiko Kobayashi, Kenji Sahara, and Yoshio Tsuchiya all had major roles in past Godzilla movies. Looked at from this perspective, “Space Amoeba” makes it seem like the studio was starting to run out of ideas.

Yet “Space Amoeba” does offer some humble joys of it own. It’s a most unconventional of alien invasion flick. There are no flying saucers or alien leaders in funny outfits making villainous proclamation. Instead, Yog, as it was named in the American dub, is a far more insidious threat. It has no true form, only appearing as a glowing, blue mist. It slithers into organic beings, taking control of their bodies. In the shape of cuttlefish, crabs, or turtles, they grow into giants. For humans, they are controlled by ominous voices, telling humanity of its impending enslavement. The film reminds me a little bit of “The Thing.” The alien’s powers are potentially disastrous but, lucky for the human race, it fell in an isolated area. Granted, the freezing Arctic is more frightening then a tropical island…

The interesting sci-fi angle isn’t what got butts in seats. “Space Amoeba” is aware of this. The movie’s opening credits are taken up by footage of the three monsters fighting and attacking, dramatically scored and cut. The film throws three monsters at the viewer for the price of one. The goofiest, most intimidating and by far the most memorable is Gezora. A giant kisslip cuttlefish, the kaiju doesn’t act much like an invertebrate. Instead, Gezora crudely crawls around on his tentacles, walking across the island like a normal person would. The animal’s eyes were located where the suit actor’s – stalwart Toho monster man Hauro Nakajima – kneecaps would be. So Gezora’s eyes are constantly bulging out at odd angles. Despite his appearance being borderline comical, the movie still makes Gezora work. His appearance is preceded by a glowing light through the water. His tentacles reach out and grab victims, tossing them through the air. A sequence where he wrecks the native village, smashing grass huts and attacking spear-throwing natives, is one of the best in the movie. Disappointingly, the movie kills off its best monster half-way through. Gezora is burned to death by the heroes, retreating to the ocean and expiring.

The other monsters are less visually compelling and entertaining but aren’t without their charms. Ganime, a giant rubble crab, is probably the least impressive of the film. He shows up, cracks a few buildings, tumbles off a hill, and gets blown up. Without explanation, the giant crab appears again at the need. Kameba, meanwhile, is a huge mata mata turtle. Like the real animal, he can extend his neck out very far. Though the motion is somewhat mechanical, it is fun to see the turtle’s head shoot out at super-speed. After Yog is defeated by his weakness – supersonic sound, for those keeping track – the two kaiju go at each other, giving the movie it’s required giant monster fight. There’s some fun stuff here, the crab flipping the turtle over its back. The two monsters plummet into a volcano together, along with the Yog-controlled human, which makes for a fitting ending. It feels very classical.

“Space Amoeba” is not the disaster I’ve heard it is. It’s fairly minor, filled with familiar story beats. However, if you’re looking for campy monster action, it’s action-packed and lots of fun. As the last kaiju film of the sixties, kind of, it’s not the most impressive finale. Taken on its own, it’s a good time. [7/10]

Phantasm (1979)

“Phantasm” is the ultimate cult horror series. That’s a loaded statement. “Evil Dead” has had a wider reach. “Re-Animator” is more critically praised. Only “Phantasm,” however, has the winning combination of being most beloved by its fans, maintaining one man’s vision, and never loosing its low-budget, home-made weirdness. The sinister Tall Man, persistent silver orbs, and ice cream man action hero have never crossed-over much with the mainstream either, keeping “Phantasm” well within the realm of cultishly adored horror fandom.

“Phantasm” focuses on two brothers, twenty-something Jody and his little brother Mike, and their best friend Reggie, the local ice cream man. After the sudden death of a mutual friend, curious Mike begins to notice some strange things going on at the local mortuary. The graveyard is watched over by a tall, gray-haired man, silent and scowling. Bizarre hood figures creep around the bushes at night. A floating silver orb, armed with a blood-sucking drill and stabbing prongs, flies through the funeral home’s hallways. The boy has stumbled upon a terrifying secret from beyond, dragging his brother into it. Now, all three must face the wrath of the Tall Man.

There’s a lot going on inside “Phantasm” but it’s primarily an especially dark coming-of-age story. Mike is on the cusp of adulthood. His and Jody’s parents died in a car crash not that long ago and the boy is still recovering. Jody is eager to leave his small town, to see the rest of the world from the front seat of his supped-up Cuda. In one especially poignant scene, Mike runs behind his older brother, always trailing behind. Everyone Mike cares about has left him. And, soon enough, Jody will leave him too. There’s the issue of sex too. “Phantasm” begins with a young couple fucking in a cemetery, an ironic juxtaposition of eros and thanatos. After the sex is done, the man is stabbed to death by the woman. Later, Mike spies on Jody as he goes down on the same woman in the same graveyard, interrupting the two before they can finish. As befitting a boy in that age-group, sex is still a mysterious thing to Mike. He’s both intrigued and terrified. Sex represents maturity. And maturity, inevitably, leads to death.

Which raises the second, most pressing issue on “Phantasm’s” mind. Most every horror movie ever is secretly about a fear of death. “Phantasm” tackles that shit head-on. Don Coscarelli has been open about the movie being inspired by Western countries’ odd burial rituals. We give the bodies of our loved ones to strangers who take them into obscured rooms, doing who-knows-what to them. “Phantasm” plays on these anxieties directly. The Tall Man just doesn’t embalm dead bodies, he shrinks them down into hooded dwarves, slave-labor for his alien dimension. This is only the starting point for the film’s deeper discussion about death. The Tall Man is inescapable. Like Michael Myers in “Halloween,” he usually walks at a calm pace. He has no need to run. Death is going to catch up with all of us eventually. The final scene reveals that Jody has died. In the final seconds, the Tall Man appears again, dragging Mike to his death from behind a mirror. Death is unavoidable and unstoppable. And has there ever been a better symbol of the inevitably of our mortality then Angus Scrimm’s Tall Man? An imposing, towering old man, with a wisp of white hair on his head, a scowling, perpetually angry face and a booming voice. He’d rightfully become a horror icon.

Despite the heavy themes “Phantasm” tackles, the movie also has a youthful energy. Most horror movies would make a whole feature out of Mike trying to convince his brother that something strange is happening, In “Phantasm,” all Jody has to see is a twitching finger in a box full of mustard. From there on, “Phantasm” is a kooky, boy’s adventure flick. Mike sneaks into Morningside Cemetery, hides in a casket, and avoids being caught by the Tall Man. The brothers leap in Jody’s Cuda together, shooting down an evil, self-propelled car with a shotgun. When Jody locks his little brother in his bedroom, hoping to protect him, Mike straps a bullet to a hammer, cracking the door open with a tiny explosive. There’s lots of stuff like that in “Phantasm,” two guys getting into a crazy adventure and surviving just by the skin of their teeth, through pure ingenuity. That there’s no major female characters in the movie is relevant too. This isn’t “Halloween” or “Friday the 13th,” that follow a panicked, screaming girl. “Phantasm” is more macho then that, showing normal dudes getting in deep shit. Big guns, fast cars, male bonding, and scary monsters.

Yet when it’s scary, it’s frequently terrifying. Mike being pursued by the hooded dwarves is effectively creepy, playing on common fears of unseen things lurking outside. The first appearance of the sentinel orb has gone down in horror history as a classic moment. Because, of course, it’s awesome. The orb is such a novel creation that I’m surprised Coscarelli thought of it first. When the sphere slams into the random caretaker’s head, drilling his face, blood pouring out the opposite end, no one saw that coming in 1979. Two of the few female characters being abducted out of their cars on a foggy night are quite spooky. The final minutes of the film really pump up the suspense. Mike runs from the Tall Man, being doggedly pursued by the implacable man, the ominous theme music playing throughout. Images appear out of the night, attempting to frighten Mike into submission. The Lavender Lady stands behind some branches, wielding her knife. Tomb stones rise from the ground, foreshadowing everyone’s fate. And the Tall Man is never far behind. The loose plot runs on dream logic, creating the tone of a nightmare. This is most clear during two nightmare sequences. Mike awakes in his bed, in a graveyard, the Tall Man looming over him. Jody wakes up in the mortuary, the Tall Man slowly approaching down the hallway, his footsteps echoing. Eerie stuff.

The movie’s low budget creativity shines through constantly. Reggie Bannister is an ice cream man who winds up hulling a dead body in his truck. The gate to the Tall Man’s world is like a tuning fork, which Reggie picks up on. After calming the gate, the house disappears into a blur of color. The film is powered by Coscarelli’s limitless imagination, which usually works in its favor. I still don’t know about the weird, monster bug that grows out of the Tall Man’s fingers. It’s definitely the least convincing special effect in the film. The script was conceived in a short, burst of creativity which accounts for the film’s far-out ideas but also its sometimes slapdash plot progression. The perils of low budget film making are most obvious in the sometimes ropey acting. Bill Thornbury, especially, is frequently flat. Most everyone’s line-reading can be dull from time to time.

There are flaws but I’ve always been annoyed when people say “Phantasm” is campy or funny. Maybe it is at times but the film is so effective as a horror film and is such a pure blast of creativity. The film was destined to become a cult classic and lead a number of sequels. [9/10]

The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

For a while there, I was making a yearly habit of seeing “The Rocky Horror Picture Show” at our local Apollo Theater around Halloween time. However, I found my interest in the show waning a bit in 2012 and began to wonder if this was a trip worth taking every October. JD and I skipped “Rocky” last year but this year, I decided to give it another shot. It helped that a whole crowd of friends was coming along with us, many of them doing this for their first time. As someone who has seen the movie many times, newcomers being humiliated on-screen and reacting to the stage show is more entertaining then the film.

The shadow cast provides a level of unpredictability that makes the midnight screenings worth attending. This year’s was a mixed bag. The Janet this year was fantastic, tossing her blonde wig off during the floor show. I think the Rocky was the same performer we saw back in 2012 and just as enthusiastic. The Frank, meanwhile, was overly hammy, doing a lot of distracting dance moves. JD said he was trying to “out-Curry Tim Curry” which is, of course, impossible. Many of the other shadow cast members clearly did not know their lines, glancing back at the screen repeatedly. Yet, overall, they did a decent job. The crowd was into it, with far more people dressing up then in previous years. A chorus of die-hard fans sat at the front of the theater, having clearly memorized all the call-back lines, including many I had never heard before. At one point, my row was covered with toilet paper, rice, and toast crumbs. My energy didn’t flag like in year’s past, my spirits staying high with lots of singing and dancing. It helped that my companions were clearly having a good time. I had a good contact high going by the time the movie let out.

Where do these crowds come from? It’s a common misconception among the general public that it is and that the crowds gather every October to mock the movie. People in the crowd do mock the movie, that’s for sure, but that’s not why they show up multiple times a year. Hardcore followers connect to something inside “Rocky Horror.” It’s been said that misfits and outsiders are attracted to the movie’s camp frankness. The film itself seems split on this issue. The wanton debauchery of Frank and the Transylvanians is celebrated. Yet it’s also punished, as most everyone except the squares end up dead by the end. Brad, Janet, and Dr. Scott are clearly left exhausted and diminished by their encounter, their innocent world shattered apart. This loss of innocence isn’t a good thing either. Despite being a landmark example of queer cinema, “Rocky Horror” doesn’t seem to have a very good opinion of actually accepting one’s sexuality.

And then there’s the issue of Dr. Frank-N-Furter, the film’s villain/primary protagonist. The crowd loves Frank and that devotion immediately made Tim Curry a cult superstar. Yet Frank is not a good person. He casually murders Eddie. He manipulates everyone around him, forcing others to his whim without considering them at all. He clearly doesn’t care about other people. After a whole movie of abusing, killing, and screwing with everyone around him, he sings a song about how misunderstood he is. He’s such a textbook narcissistic sociopath that the only person who can clearly please him is an artificial man made just to do that. Maybe this is something that bothers “Rocky Horror” detractors yet it’s not really too different from the way slasher fans idolize Freddy or Jason. Frank is charismatic and gets some of the movie’s best song. The image of an omni-sexual Tim Curry strutting in lingerie has become the film’s iconic image for a reason. Despite this, the movie comes down pretty hard on Frank. He’s misunderstood, maybe, but he’s a misunderstood asshole and gets the death scene he deserves. The film can’t quite nail the tragic story arc it’s aiming for, even with Curry giving it all.

That doesn’t answer the question of whether or not “Rocky Horror Picture Show” is a bad movie. The script is pretty shaky, especially the middle act where people are wandering around the mansion, having random encounters. Otherwise, there’s a lot to like about the film. The production design is impressive, the set inside Frank’s manor being beautifully realized. Many of the cast members are perfect. You can’t take your eyes off Tim Curry, who dominates the entire film. Richard O’Brian, Patricia Quinn, and Little Nell had all played their characters on stage and inhabit their roles here. Barry Boswick is the movie’s secret weapon, as the film’s humor wouldn’t work at without his dead-pan delivery. Susan Sarandon, too, is committed to the movie’s camp style. The same can be said of Charles Gray or Jonathan Adams. Even Peter Hinwood, whose performance is utterly flat, is actually perfect for the part of clueless, inhuman Rocky. The soundtrack is awesome too. “The Time Warp” and “Sweet Transvestite” are obviously classics but I think I prefer the nostalgic “Midnight Double Feature,” the subtle meloncholey of “There’s a Light,” or the surf-rock doo-wop of “Eddie’s Teddy.” To call “Rocky Horror” bad is to mistake its intentional aesthetic for incompetence. No film this calculated in its intentions was made without skill.

I came away from 2014’s “Rocky Horror Picture Show” experience with a renewed appreciation for the film. I know it’s not for everybody and I know a lot of people hate it. That’s fine. The movie can be off-putting to those not on its wavelength. A pop culture phenomenon like this doesn’t last for forty years without having some value. It’s the prime cult classic of the modern age and, when experienced while in the proper mood, can be a pretty good time. [8/10]