Halloween 2026: October 4th

 

Clash of the Titans (1981)

Ray Harryhausen's eleventh motion picture as visual effects technician, “Sinbad the the Eye of the Tiger,” would be released the same day as “Star Wars.” This is surely among the most fitting of coincidences in cinema history. The spectacle and myth-making of Harryhausen's work would inspire George Lucas and Steven Spielberg. Yet their brand of blockbuster would also eclipse the simpler charms of “Jason and the Argonauts” or “The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad.” Ray and his regular producer Charles H. Schneer weren't ready to give up though. They would begin developing another fantasy epic, returning to the same Greek mythology that served them well in the past. However, it was destined to be a fond farewell, not a new beginning. “Clash of the Titans' was a box office success in 1981 but Ray would announce his retirement shortly after its release. 

Screenwriter Beverly Cross simplifies the legend of Perseus but hits the major plot beats: He is still the son of Danae, the result of the god Zeus impregnating her as a golden shower. The princess and her baby are tossed into a chest and thrown off a cliff, guided by the gods to the island of Seriphos. Cross invents a villain in the form of Calibos, the betrothed of Princess Andromeda who has been twisted into a monster for his villainous actions. Now, he calls Andromeda's spirit to his swamp every night, providing her with a new riddle to baffle potential suitors with. Perseus, gifted with a bevy of magical power-ups by the gods, figures out the secret and wins the princess' heart. That's when Calibos' mom, the goddess Thetis, punishes them by insisting Andromeda be sacrificed to the sea monster, the Kraken. (Standing in for the more generic threat of Cetus, in the original story.) Now Perseus must go on a quest to retrieve the one thing that can kill the unstoppable sea monster: The head of the gorgon Medusa, which turns all who look at it into stone. 

Much like the latter two “Sinbad” features, “Clash of the Titans” was surely a throwback even when it was new. It follows the same pattern as the previous fantasy epics Harryhausen worked on. The plot is a episodic quest, built around traveling to an exotic location for a simple reason, upon which the next goal is given to the hero. There is no attempt to deconstruct or reconfigure the mythological figures this story is about. Perseus is a pure-hearted hero, morally sure in his motivations and always just in his actions. He gets an always-wise, always-helpful mentor. It seems to be in the contract with the Gods that literal princess Andromeda stay a virgin until her wedding night, to insure that her love with Perseus is perfectly chaste and pure. The villain is so strictly wicked in his ways that he physically resembles Satan, hooves and horns and tails. To call the characters “archetypes” would be neither insulting nor incorrect, as that's exactly what such mythic figures are anyway. (Even if Calibos is an invention of the filmmakers, he certainly fits in with the half-human, half-monster antagonists of classical mythology.)

Of course, the actual heroes of Greek folklore were not so black-and-white. Least we forget what Jason did after he retrieved the golden fleece. “Clash” mostly doesn't get into that, as far as its mortal characters are concerned. The Gods, however, are portrayed as petty and temperamental as the Greeks liked it. Thetis regularly points out that it's kind of bullshit that Perseus gets the favor of the Gods simply because Zeus is his daddy. Hera certainly has no warmth towards another one of her philandering husband's illegitimate offspring. When the king of Olympus asks Athena to give up her beloved owl, she's not happy about it. The film does not, in any way, interrogate this. Zeus is a jerk but that does not influence Perseus being a straight-forward good guy any. There's a molecule of sympathy to the way Neil McCarthy plays Calibos but that's about it as complications go. 

If it feels like I'm complaining, I'm not. I actually admire the purity of “Clash of the Titans'” vision. Harry Hamlin is so stout-chinned and stern-voiced in his performance that he might as well have leapt right off a comic book page. Laurence Olivier and Maggie Smith make grand theater of playing literal gods. Burgess Meredith adds a wry twinkle of the eye to the standard wise mentor role of Ammon. Director Desmond Davis mostly stays out of the way of the effects and the material. “Clash of the Titans” is a colorful, often gorgeous film. The flickering shadows and hellish oranges of Medusa's lair or foggy texture of Calibos' swamps are lovely. At the same time, the visuals rarely draw too much attention to themselves. There's little indication this film was made in the eighties, aside from a little more blood in the violence and some random PG-rated nudity in an earlier moment. The chirping, cute mechanical sidekick of Bubo the owl has been suggested to be an imitation of R2-D2. Ray denied this but I don't know if I believe him. 

For the most part though, “Clash of the Titans” feels like a film unmoored from time. Some of its effects, mostly in terms of compositing that puts actors in locations were they are not, look cheesy now and then. However, the appeal of Dynamation is eternal. “Clash of the Titans” has maybe the most Harryhausen creations per minute-of-screen time of all his works. I'm not sure any of the stop-motion beasties here rival the likes of the Ymir or Talos in terms of sheer personality. I wish the Kraken was a more sympathetic creature than merely a force of destruction. However, it's an unforgettable creation nevertheless, vast in its scale and personable in its movements. The clicking of Medusa's rattle tail, the glare on her reptilian face is unforgettable, the way her two-headed guard dog yelps when injured, the clattering of the huge scorpions or the way the giant vulture cocks its head to the side: Once again, Harryhausen imbues these creatures with little bits of personality and expressiveness, that make them more than special effects. 

In many ways, “Clash of the Titans” is an immensely charming film. There is something to be admired in Harryhausen and his team's staunch refusal to try and blend in with the times. They knew that stately heroism like this, grand adventure, and cool monsters will always appeal to the young at heart. On one hand, a strict focus like this can be narrowing. “Clash of the Titans” is not a thematically complex film. Its characters have few layers, its plot with little complications, and its resolutions are big and broad. When paired with beautiful but clearly old-fashioned effects, the result is a film clearly of the past. Harryhausen announcing his retirement right after its release was an admission that the world had passed his particular niche by. I'm glad he got this victory lap though. As “simple” as this film is, it's also a work of great skill, experts and artisans working doing their best to create pure entertainment. [8/10]

Reykjavik Whale Watching Massacre (2009)

Considering the impact of “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre,” I'm surprised more filmmakers have not emulated the titling scheme of a place, an implement, and a form of murder.  Would you not be intrigued by a motion picture entitled, for example, “The Pennsylvania Blender Homicides?” “Siam Crowbar Fatalities?” “The Utah Spatula Maulings?” I know that would get my butt in the seat! I suppose it's only natural that most tourist destinations would not want to associate their city, state, or country with dismemberment. Of course, Icelandic people are not phased by such concerns. They come from a volcanic wasteland located at the frozen top of the world. They are heartier than that. Also, Gunnar Hansen was Icelandic, meaning that it was only a matter of time before someone from the country would decide to pay homage to Tobe Hooper's classic. Those people were Sjón and filmmaker Júlíus Kemp, with 2009's “Reykjavik Whale Watching Massacre.” Presumably because a lot of Americans do not know that Reykjavik is the capital of Iceland, the film was re-titled to “Harpoon” here in the states. Come on, guys, “Icelandic Harpoon Massacre” was right there!

A group of tourists gather in a dingy port in the capital city, awaiting a dilapidated vessel for a whale-watching tour. Among them are Annette, a Christian woman who recently lost her husband-to-be, and Marie-Anne, an environmental activist who drank too much last night. The rest of the group are made up of an alcoholic Frenchman, three British biddies, a Japanese businessman, his wife and put-upon assistant, and the pragmatic Leon. The captain doesn't spot any whales that day and strays into the fishing territory of former whalers. The Frenchman foolishly ascends the mast, causing an accident that impales the captain. The sleazy first mate abandons ship, leaving the sight-seers adrift. They are found by the same desperate whalers who, their profession no longer viable, have turned to cannibalism and depravity. A fight for survival ensues.

“Whale Watching Massacre” falls thoroughly into the 2000's trend of horror as bleak films that are heavy on intense violence and nastiness. The visual palette is overwhelmingly grey and every surface is caked with grime. The opening credits play over real footage of whales being slaughtered. Victims do not merely die but suffer, being strung up, burned, or abused. That would be one thing but the film is also endlessly mean-spirited. Its secondary female lead is subjected to sexual assault, molestation, and torture. Her aside, the cast is largely made up of national stereotypes that treat each other awfully. The British woman observe Leon, a black man, as nothing but a sexual object. It's revealed that he's a homosexual, which Annette declares “disgusting.” The Frenchman is a cowardly, obnoxious buffoon who pisses his pants. The Japanese businessman is a sexist, insulting lout who treats his assistant – the only other semi-decent person in the film – like a slave. These are mostly awful people and this is a film about watching them be awful to each other, on their way to dying awfully. 

Despite its grimness, most of the press refers to “Reykjavik Whale Watching Massacre” as a “horror/comedy.” As far as I can tell, the only humor on display here comes from these cartoonishly caricatured characters. I guess we are supposed to find these people calling women “bitches” or crassly hitting one each other to be funny. The only actual attempt at humor occurs in a moment blatantly swiped from “Texas Chain Saw Massacre,” when a seeming safe harbor is revealed to be in league with the cannibals. Supposedly, the film belongs to the same tradition of exaggerated grindhouse throw-backs, also popular at the time. This is evident in the exaggerated gore effects. However, that seems to simply reinforce the movie's cynical outlook. If all of these characters are terrible human beings, naturally we would find their violent death amusing and not dispiriting. The decision to play some of the violence as serious and grim and some as comical, when combined with the overwhelming hateful perspective of the film, simply makes this a miserable slog to watch. 

The film also strikes me as free of any tension. I suspect “Wolf Creek” might have been an influence on this. There's a similar structure, in the characters starting out in one situation, hoping they are saved, only to be put into far more dangerous. However, the film has no patience in revealing its “fishbillies” are murderous, leaving little room for suspense. The characters are so thoroughly unpleasant that you don't care whether they live or die. Moreover, the structure of the script is needlessly shuffled up. The story is constantly leaping between its cast, many of them across different locations. At one point, it jumps back to a group of unimportant side characters from the first scene, which contribute in no way to the actual story. It is as if the film is repeatedly working against any attempts to build up proper tension, always diving into a different tone or scenario when any might be mounting. 

Screenwriter Sjón is a high-minded writer usually, known for his poetry and his more recent scripts for Robert Eggers' films. Presumably, he intended “Whale Watching Massacre” to be satirical. Making the entire cast unflattering representations of their nations feels like the kind of half-formed edginess that passed for “satire” in certain circles in the 2000s. Like Leatherface's brood, the cannibalistic whalers have been forced into this lifestyle by the collapse of their business. They blame animal rights activists for whaling falling out of fashion. While the harpoon-wielding maniacs are clearly antagonistic, the movie around them seems to be pro-whaling. An orca getting a harpoon in its skin helps a character out of a major bind and the environmentalist characters are depicted as clueless. While I agree that everyone should be able to make a living, and that certain cultural traditions can be preserved, it's hard to consider the environmental impact of whaling as worth it. When put in the context of the rest of the film's nihilistic nastiness, this feels less like a statement on Icelandic cultural traditions and more like a juvenile proclamation of it being uncool to care about something silly like animal well-fair. 

I think transposing the grim hopelessness of something like “Wolf Creek” or the slaughterhouse satire of “Chain Saw Massacre” into the bitter north of Iceland and its waters was a good idea. That's a hell of a setting for a horror film. I'm always intrigued to see a culturally specific riff on a genre stable like the depraved redneck. I think the whaling industry is pretty terrible but there's certainly a conversation to be had around it. Unfortunately, “Reykjavik Whale Watching Massacre” is thoroughly unpleasant and obnoxious throughout, without any wit, tension, or compelling thoughts behind its cruelty. Though Sjón does include a shout-out to his sometimes band-mate Björk, maximizing the Icelandic content of this one at least. [4/10]

 

Sightings: Poor Souls
 

“Sightings” – a “news” program devoted to reports of UFOs, ghostly activity, cryptozoology, psychic phenomenon, demonic encounters, magik, and any other type of bullshit you can think of – began life on network TV and syndication. Sci-Fi Channel began to include re-runs of the series on its schedule around 1995, before picking the show up for one more season the next year. This is when I started watching. Now, as an understanding skeptic, I can watch “Sightings” as the pop-science mishmash of nonsense and hysteria that it is. However, as a kid, the way the program presented supernatural claims as legitimate reports would always cause a delightful shiver to run up my spine. Basically, I had the relationship with this show that many people a little older than me did with “Unsolved Mysteries.”

This is why I decided to include a random episode of “Sightings” from the Sci-Fi era in this year's line-up. The third broadcast from season four is a typical hour of the program. The topics breached here include UFO sightings in Israel, Area 51, high schoolers pushing for disclosure of government information around the Roswell story, and a woman who claims to have had a near-death experience during a plane crash. An especially hilarious sequence is called “In the News.” This contains quick tidbits about Native American prophecies around the birth of a white buffalo and scientists researching genetic conditions that are speculated to be a possible origin for werewolf legends. “Sightings” hilariously presents this news story as “Does this prove that werewolves are real?” and plays scenes from “Silver Bullet” under it. This is very silly and shows how dubious “Sightings'” reporting in general was. 

The episode begins with a segment entitled “Poor Souls.” It concerns a former poor house farm location – a building that would house the homeless, sick, and dying back in the day – that is now a residential home. As you'd expect with that back story, the people who have lived in the home claim it is haunted. What the family talks about is standard ghost stuff. The thermostat getting messed with, animals dying mysteriously, uneasy feelings in places. Amusingly, the so-called Drawbridge family – that's gotta be a fake name, right? – attributed the patriarch's kidney stone to supernatural influence as well. “Sightings” draws in “psychic investigator” Peter James to poke around the house. It's all the kind of second-hand supposition you'd expect. Several of the interviewed subjects crack visible smiles while telling their tales, making it clear that you should not take any of this shit seriously. 

Having said all of that, this segment really sums up the appeal “Sightings” had to me as a kid. The dramatic reenactments are often shown in black-and-white, depicting people creeping around the old farm house. Watching this now, I can still feel the same spooky shiver run up my spine that I felt as a child. The people who assembled this segment actually make some good use of sound design and editing. You can see this same skill on-display in the much more ridiculous near-death phenomenon episode. The reenactments are dramatically framed, well lit, and paired with perfectly chosen sound bites. It's well done and presents extremely underwhelming evidence. “Poor Souls” has a jump scare and everything, when a pigeon flies right at Peter James' head when he's in the barn. If you have no nostalgia for detritus like this, it would hold little appeal. But this takes me right back to the late nineties, brother. [7/10]
 

 

Friday the 13th: The Series: What a Mother Wouldn't Do

Here's another somewhat atypical episode of “Friday the 13th: The Series,” more about the person using the cursed object to pursue a goal than the Curious Goods team tracking them down. Expecting mother Leslie Kent is told her child will be born stillborn and that carrying the infant to term may end her own life too. She's keepin' her baby, however. Upon passing by Lewis Vendredi's antiques shop, she became enamored with an simple wooden cradle. Now, six months later, her daughter Allison has been born. The cursed cradle is all that is keeping the child alive. Leslie, and her reluctant husband Martin, now must murder seven people with or near water in order to bring their daughter to full health. Their murder spree is what catches the eyes of Ryan, Micki, and Jack who quickly discover that the cradle in question has a link to the sinking of the Titanic.

In some regards, “What a Mother Wouldn't Do” is probably one of the strongest episodes of the show's first season. The premise of the episode puts our heroes in an extremely difficult situation. If they try and stop the murderous parents, it means a literal baby will die. Every time Allison is removed from her eerily rocking cradle, she begins crying in pain. This is a case where the murderous villains have a justifiable motivation. What parent wouldn't go to extreme lengths to protect their child? How this will be resolved is easy enough to predict, what with the way the script keeps emphasizing that two more people must be executed to fulfill the curse. Maybe to make up for the recent run of downbeat conclusions, this one has a happy ending. Some off-screen magical shenanigans must take place for things to play out in this manner and I wasn't crazy about that. However, I think this one has a dramatically sound foundation. 

There's also some well done fright sequences here. When the innocent babysitter is targeted for the next murder, it results in a way done and tense sequence. Martin, wearing a creepy “Alice Sweet Alice” style mask, attempts to drown her in a tub. It's one of the more tensely directed moments in the show so far. I also like the eerie sight of the cradle starting to rock on its own. On the other hand, “What a Mother Wouldn't Do” is heavy on the campiness that has frequently characterized the series. Lynne Cormack goes hideously over-the-top as the mother, driven to act like a cartoonish supervillain by the situation. She contorts her face in expressions of devious horror or shouts at wicked volumes. If an actress with a degree of subtly was cast in the role, this probably would've been a really strong hour. Instead, it walks the fine line of decent ideas and camp so much of this series has occupied. [7/10]

 

Halloween 2026: September 30th

 

Predator: Badlands (2025)

By now, it's obvious that Dan Trachtenberg is a “Predator” fanboy. After “Prey” managed to reignite interest in the series, Disney basically gave him the keys to the alien big game hunter kingdom. He got to make a bigger budget sequel and a cartoon anthology spin-off, both of which continue to show how easily the “Predator” template can be combined with other story types. While allowing hardcore nerds to run an established franchise has had mixed results in the past, it seems to have worked out in this case. “Predator: Badlands” released last year to positive reviews and decent box office. While the internet outrage machine tried to brew some discontent around its increased role for female characters, it seems to me that fans mostly liked this one too. I saw it at the time and enjoyed myself but was too hung-over to write a proper review. While “Badlands” veers much more towards the science fiction and action side of the franchise's equation than horror, it's still got enough crazy monsters in it that I can bullshit its inclusion in the Halloween Horror-Fest Blog-a-thon. 

“Badlands” begins on the desolate home world of the mysterious warrior race. Dek is the youngest off-spring of a clan of Yautja warriors. Because this civilization abhors weakness, the runts of the litter are usually killed off. Dek's older brother, Kwei, spares him. Determined to prove his worth to the clan, Dek decides for his maiden hunt to track down a creature called the Kalisk. It resides on a highly dangerous planet known as Genna and is feared by even the mightiest hunters. Unfortunately, Dek's asshole dad arrives and kills Kwei, seconds after he sends his sibling off on this mission. After landing on Genna, Dek soon meets up with Thia, a humanoid android that has been cut in half. The two form an uneasy partnership, Dek eager to survive and claim his prize while Thia is curious about the alien. The quest to find and kill the Kaslisk is complicated by two things: Thia's “sister” is leading an expedition of evil Weyland-Yutani androids to exploit that planet's resources and they are right on the duo's tail. Secondly, the Kalisk proves harder to kill – and altogether more likable – than originally assumed. 

By now, Dan Trachtenberg's willingness to follow the lead of the old “Predator” comic books in his sequels are well established. “Prey” took the approach of dropping the alien hunter into a different time period and setting, which “Killer of Killers” than tripled-down on. That animated feature also brought the name “Yautja,” long used in the comics but never spoken on film before, into official canon. “Badlands” goes even further in this direction by doing something else the comics regularly did. It makes the monster the hero of the story. In fact, “Badlands” does more to expand the on-screen lore of the series than any prior installments. We see the Predator home world, learn its name, delve into the culture of this species, and hear a whole lot of its clicking, guttural language. Now, this brings with it certain gaps in logic that a whole library of comics and novels have happily filled up but a feature film doesn't have time to get into. How exactly does an alien civilization that bases its entire culture around manhood ritual style hunting trips, that cull the perceived “weakest” members of the family from the bloodline, ever survive long enough to achieve light-speed intergalactic travel? But don't think about it that hard. The point is, “Badlands” is the “Predator” series taking its own lore and history very seriously perhaps for the first actual time. 

While making the Predator the protagonist of the story is a new thing for the film series, “Badlands” still follows the established pattern of sticking this alien in a familiar genre framework. This time, it's an intergalactic take on a wilderness survival/coming-of-age story. Dek is a youth on the cusp of adulthood, eager to prove himself but inexperienced. He's thrust into the wild with few resources. He meets a girl and bonds with an animal. More specifically, this journey sees him rejecting the might-makes-right mentality he was raised in. He forges his own path, apart from what he's been taught. At times, I wonder if this makes the previously mysterious alien threat too familiar to the audience. Dek is by far the cuddliest Predator yet. He has a dry sense of humor. His status as the runt of the litter, so rejected by his family that his dad wants to kill him, makes him an immediate underdog the viewer can root for. The arc, of Thia's sunny disposition rubbing off on the gruff alien, is totally expected. Bud, the alien sidekick he gains, is clearly playing with the same “cute little alien” tropes as the Baby Yodas of the world. 

Despite the apparent hokiness of a lot of the familiar beats “Badlands” is utilizing, it all ends up working. Elle Fanning could play a role like this in her sleep, a Manic Android Dream Girl that is nevertheless extremely charming. (That she plays the character's evil twin also allows her a wider range.) How Dek slowly comes around to taking her advice is a natural, smooth way to show his development without belaboring the point too much. In other words, the viewer buys into the improbable link between these three unlikely characters. This is good, as the entire last act is dependent on caring about their interaction. While the right-wing types were fast to criticize this as a neutering of a bad-ass, classically masculine figure, rejecting your shitty parents in favor of your cooler, accepting friends and partner is a tale as old as time. 

As a sci-fi monster movie, “Badlands” is a lot of fun too. Genna is presented as a planet where everything can and will kill you. Even the grass is outfitted with razor sharp blades. The fauna is exotic, deadly, and aggressive. In execution, this amounts to the script setting up about a dozen beasts and death traps in the first act. All of this stuff comes back around for the finale, in a way that feels smooth and satisfying. The alien creatures on-display here are not especially novel. They follow the “Avatar” format of taking familiar Earth species and giving them a few extraterrestrial gimmicks. However, the way these set-ups interact with the familiar elements of the “Predator” franchise prove satisfying. The movie is CGI heavy, to the point of feeling nearly as animated as Trachtenberg's animated “Predator” movie. It's action sequences do not break any new ground, as far as mainstream blockbusters go. However, the fight choreography is strong throughout. There's a speed and precision to the combat that I enjoy. Not to mention a wacky sense of humor, present in an extended sequence involving Thia's lower body being separate from her top.

“Badlands” also lacks much of the harder gore that characterized the majority of “Predator” films before this. All of the bloodshed is alien-on-alien or alien-on-robot. Yes, that means this truly is the PG-13-ification of the franchise. However, I don't think that's so bad, at least not when the movie is as entertaining and smoothly constructed as this one. Dan Trachtenberg is clearly a talented guy, with a good handle on balancing satisfying fan expectations with an ability to construct entertaining set pieces. I don't want to see him making only “Predator” movies for the rest of his career but he's also clearly passionate about the series. I think “Prey” gave me a little more of what I want from a “Predator” movie but “Badlands” is doubtlessly a good time at the movies. [7/10]

 

 

The Shadowed Mind (1988)
 

Films made in Apartheid-era South Africa were, unsurprisingly, heavily scrutinized by the censors. Like everything else in the country, the industry was divided along racial, social lines. Any messages that could be perceived as critical of the government usually resulted in a ban. The same government also criminalized homosexuality, at least between men. Presumably, director Cedric Sundstrom and his crew were well aware that their 1988 film “The Shadowed Mind,” featuring openly gay and sympathetic characters, would not meet with federal approval. Sadly, an international audience would also be largely denied. The MPAA rated the picture NC-17, damning it to obscurity in the U.S., and its release didn't get far much anywhere else either. Severin put out a restored Blu-Ray of the film in 2022, its first time on disc ever, finally giving “The Shadowed Mind” the audience it was long denied. 

Stephanie arrives at an isolated, partially underground institute. The clinic is run by Dr. Dieter Hildesheimer and seeks to cure individuals with “sexual dysfunctions.” Stephanie, who has had a compulsion to show people her breasts since childhood, meets the other in-mates. There's a nymphomaniac, a victim of childhood abuse, a homosexual man, a fellow with serious arrested development and gender issues, and Paul. Paul is impotent but channels his sexual frustration into violent fantasies. He quickly becomes attracted to Stephanie, wondering if she's the girl to finally cure him. That's right around the time people start to be violently murdered around the facility. Dr. Hildesheimer covers up the deaths, to secure an in-coming grant, which only prolongs the actions of whoever the killer is. 

I don't know if clinics that specialize entirely in sexual hang-ups, and based out of partially underground warehouses, are a real thing. This is maybe the first clue that “The Shadowed Mind” is heading into surreal territory a  bit. The second clue is how the film looks. Cinematographer George Bartels and art director Ruth Strimling go all-in on making each shot as pretty and dreamy as possible. Each patients' individual rooms are full of flowing curtains, bright colors, artistic lighting, and significant props. The cast members are frequently positioned in wider shots like pieces of an art display. It's an extremely baroque style, every shot looking like it's out of a Duran Duran music video. It strays into the area of camp often, especially in the self-consciously erotic moments. A movie doesn't include a slow-mo, full frontal shower scene for its hunkiest actor without being a little ironic about it. However, I generally found “The Shadowed Mind” to be visually splendid. 

Obviously, such a grandiose visual approach is part of the film's thesis. “The Shadowed Mind” takes place in an underground facility because it takes place in the subconscious. Once the dead bodies start to pile up, that's why the professionals disguise the evidence. It's one more shameful, dark secret buried deep down within this place. Obviously, that territory is where the blurry area between sex and violence resides too. The murder scenes in the film, clearly giallo influenced, are no less stylized than the rest of the movie. The knife is stiletto-like in its length and, upon penetrating its victims, tends to leave a money shot of blood on the walls. The murder scenes often go hand-in-hand with sexual arousal, as if the knife being a symbolic dick couldn't be any more obvious. The overall archness of “The Shadowed Mind” certainly allows it to get away with stuff like this.

Like the giallo that clearly inspired it, “The Shadowed Mind” is also not a film that concerned with narrative coherence. The plotting is loose. This isn't much more than a series of character sketches piled atop each other, with the largely secondary thread of the murders tying them all together. Some of the sexual quirks based therapy sessions are more compelling than the others. Stephanie's fixation on flashing her boobs sure is curious. The sequence devoted to gender confusion, by the in-mate who is always carrying around a teddy bear, is probably the most sympathetically designed. However, the lady with repressed memories of childhood abuse is nothing but a sketch. As is the gay man lusting after Paul. In fact, Paul himself seems a bit undefined. If he's closeted, a psycho, a scared kid, or a horn-dog without an outlet seems to vary from scene-to-scene. In general, “The Shadowed Mind” can't seem to figure out if Stephanie or Paul is its protagonist. 

In other words, “The Shadowed Mind” is basically a giallo that's plotted like a slasher movie, all its quirky cast members existing primarily to be offed. That the movie received an NC-17 is especially laughable. There's two seconds of on-screen dong and I'm sure the love scenes exceed the allotted number of pelvic thrusts the pearl-clutchers at the MPAA tolerate. However, the sex scenes aren't truly any more graphic than a hundred other erotic thrillers that were deemed acceptable for wide commercial distribution. When exactly “The Shadowed Mind” was released state-side, I'm not sure. Some sources say 1993, a year after “Basic Instinct” flashed its crotch in multiplexes all over America. So this one getting harsher treatment than that once again displays the rating board's anti-queer bigotry. If given more of a proper release at the time, I'm certain “The Shadowed Mind” would've gained a cult following quickly. It's way too interesting, pretty, and amusing a motion picture not to, even if it's not as deep or perceptive as it wants to be. Sundstrom would go on to direct the third and fourth “American Ninjas,” which are also pretty gay but otherwise don't reflect the strong visual eye on display here. I would've liked to have seen more arty nonsense from him. [7/10]

 

TerrorVision: The Closet Monster

LifeTime was not, it may surprise you to hear this, always Television for Women. The channel was originally born out of a fusion of the Cable Health Network, which focused on health and medicine, and Daytime, a four-hour per day broadcast of “alternative programming for women.” What this meant is that, in its first four years, Lifetime featured a bunch of lame talk shows, medical documentaries, and re-runs. A new head of programming came aboard in 1988, eventually beginning the network's transformation into what it became. I guess there must have been a lot of dead air in-between shows and movies at that time though. Lifetime inexplicably debuted a horror anthology that year. “TerrorVision” was a super low budget collection of ten minute long short films, shot on video and designed to be nothing much but filler. It's probably the most obscure program I've yet written about but all the episodes are currently on Youtube, so let's give it a shot. 

Ethan is a kid who refuses to clean out his closet, much to his mother's annoyance. One night, while attempting to sleep, he hears strange noises coming from the closet. He announces to his parents that there's a monster living inside the alcove. Mom believes this is an excuse to avoid the chore but dad humors the kid, trying to encourage him to stand up to his imaginary monster. This does not resolve the issue, with Ethan eventually attacking his dad after mistaking him for the closet-dwelling creature. The boy is sent off to a therapist, leaving Mom alone in her son's bedroom, where she decides to personally investigate the closet situation.

“TerrorVision” is such a lo-fi production that I'm surprised it aired on a nationally broadcast station at all. The acting is mugging and awkward, especially from the lead child actor. His announcement of “there's a monster in my closet” is such a hypnotically bad line-reading. The musical score is composed of electronic burps. There's a neat enough first-person perspective shot of the boy going down the stairs but most of the framing is largely stationary and flat. There's potential in the narrative here, of a child not being believed by their parents when they should be. The moment when Ethan clubs his dad over the head with a bat, insisting he's killed the monster, feels like it's leading towards a meaningful twist. Instead, the story resolves itself by blandly revealing that the presented truth is, in fact, the truth. And to what end, other than a clumsy and ineffective attempt at a jump scare? Perhaps an utterly forgotten, ten minute long filler program was not designed to be probe to any degree. I guess the monster is kind of neat looking? [5/10]

Friday the 13th: The Series: Double Exposure
 

Sometimes, it has felt like the “Friday the 13th: The Series” writers had to get real creative to make that week's chosen Artifact of Doom into something that could murder a person. A tea cup or quilt does not strike most as threatening objects. While equally mundane, there's enough weird superstitions around photography that multiple films and TV episodes have been made about them. “Friday the 13th” still came up with a weird angle of their own. Newscaster Winston Knight has become a celebrity himself by reporting on a serial killer chopping people up in the area, the so-called Machete Murder. This is an example of the media creating the event and then reporting on it. Knight is in the possession of a magical Polaroid camera. When it snaps a photo of someone, it births a perfect physical copy of them, bound to do their bidding. Within twenty-four hours, the photograph must be burned – killing the double – or else the owner of the camera will perish instead. Knight has been using these duplicates to commit the killings he then reports on live, giving him an undebatable alibi. Ryan, currently enamored of a new girlfriend named Cathy, stumbles upon Knight's doppelganger committing a murder. This makes him, and his latest love, a target of the killer. 

It was only a matter of time. With both being low-budget horror TV shows, shot in Canada only a few years apart, “Friday the 13th: The Series” and “Forever Knight” were bound to share some cast members eventually. Three years before co-starring as the police pathologist in love with a vampire cop, Catherine Disher would appear here as “Cathy.” (And in an episode where another major character has the last name “Knight,” no less.) Despite the previous two episodes depicting Ryan breaking Amish because he loved a girl so much, he's already got himself a new girlfriend that he seems quite close to. Much like Nick Knight and Natalie Lambert, Ryan and Cathy's love is doomed. Ryan even makes the observation that the relationships on this show always seem to end badly. Disher is an appealing performer and actually has decent chemistry with John D. Le May, making me wish they didn't kill her off half-way through the episode. They are certainly a more believable couple than him and the Reverend's daughter. 

While it still doesn't have anything to do with Jason Voorhees, “Double Exposure” does feature people being murdered with a machete. This is actually not the freakiest horror content in this episode. Instead, the mechanics of the duplicating camera are quite slimy. When the photo is put in the developing dish, it bubbles and smokes, producing an embryonic human form that slowly takes on the features of its house. This logic is followed through in the climax, when one of the “dupes” gets a hand chopped off and bleeds only developing fluid instead. It's a weird, gnarly special effect and goes a long way to making this episode memorable. Winston Knight also makes for a decent villain, playing up our innate tendency to not trust new caster. There's also something to how his duplicate longs to be a full-fledged human being. Are the copies some sort of manifestation of the Jungian shadow, repressed needs seeking personhood? I doubt anyone writing the episode thought that deeply on it but it's an interesting idea. This is a good one. [7/10]

Halloween 2026: September 24th

Teenage Sex & Death at Camp Miasma (2026)

The golden age of the slasher movie was short-lived. By 1984, over-saturation had been reached, the style was burnt out, and Jason Voorhees was dead. They kept making them. They'll keep making them forever, because something about the subgenre seems to imprint on every subsequent generation of horror fans. Which is to say: It's been four decades since "Halloween" and "Friday the 13th" lit the fire, and three since "Scream" popularly deconstructed it, and people are still finding things to say about these movies. Whether the irony-enriched eighties slasher regurgitation premise is totally played out or not is irrelevant. A certain breed of filmmaker will keep thinking about it. Deeply personal reflections on media seems to be Jane Schoenbrun's thing. "We Are All Going to the World's Fair" and "I Saw the TV Glow" were the director's post-mortems on getting too deep into the internet and substituting real life experiences with television, respectively. Now "Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma" has this extremely distinctive voice considering the often-considered camp slasher framework. 

"Camp Miasma" was a popular eighties slasher film. It concerned Little Death, a transgender revenant wearing an air vent on their head and wielding a spear. The killer regularly rose from a lake to massacre the people at the summer camp next door. The original was a hit and beget a long line of sequels, until the premise was thoroughly run into the ground. Now, up-and-coming filmmaker Kris Williams has been contacted to pitch a reboot. Kris knows the studio singled her out because she's queer and they are hopeful she can untangle the "Camp Miasma" series from its problematic origins. She genuinely loves the films though. In particular, she's enamored of Billy Presley, the star of the original film that has since disappeared from public life. Kris tracks Billy down at her home, which turns out to be the camp grounds where the first movie was shot. Billy has a deep connection to "Camp Miasma" as well. Her and Kris explore what the film means to them, and their own sexuality, until the border between reality and fiction are totally blurred. 

The impression I got from Jane Schoenbrun's previous films is that they put a lot of themselves into the protagonists. A young person losing connection to reality as they go deeper into an internet rabbit hole and a pop culture-obsessed, deeply closeted loner perhaps represented dark "what-ifs" for the auteur. "Camp Miasma" is Schoenbrun's most personal work yet. By which I mean, Kris Williams definitely seems to be a self-insert for the director. Hannah Einbinder is even made up to look a bit like Schoenbrun. The plot thread of Kris being asked to make a "woke" reboot of a transphobic summer camp slasher, specifically because of their queer identity, makes me think Schoenbrun got asked to reboot "Sleepaway Camp" at some point. (Both that film and its beloved-by-me sequel are mentioned by name.) That must be weird, being offered a job only because your identity lines up with the murderous villain's. If "Camp Miasma" is a reflection of the director's feelings, Schoenbrun has little respect for typical Hollywood smoozers. Kris' agent and the execs are obsessed with meaningless buzz words like "origin story" and "elevated." While the "Queer Assistant" present is depicted as utterly apathetic. If brainless industry people are a target of the story, the script doesn't spare its protagonist either. Kris' past films that "explore queerness as monstrous otherness" and her obsessive film fandom are treated as immature defense mechanisms, to cover up real insecurities she feels about herself and sex. When asked to talk about herself, Kris talks about her films instead. As if that's all there is to her, as if cinema is more real than reality.

And maybe it is, at least for these characters. The film leans on the surreal borderland between the real and the imagined early on. As soon as Kris arrives at the camp, elaborate matte paintings are being used to create a sense of cinematic dreaminess. The brand names of junk food are highlighted, as if to the emphasize the importance of shiny, disposable commercial products to these people. Dipping sauce for chicken fingers is sensually lingered on, only the first of many scenes connecting food and sex. This is because, as the title indicates, this movie is almost entirely about sex. That's why the killer is Little Death, why they penetrate with a spear, and why they strikes as their victims are on the verge of orgasmic rapture. Some of these symbolic touches are obvious, even trite. But this is ultimately a film about how the pop culture we consume gives us the words to express our desires, our fantasies. The shadow play of the movies are absorbed as erotic nightmares, through which we can then describe our own thoughts and feelings. If the amount of Jason-themed erotica I've seen is any indication, Kris is far from the only person whose sexual awakening was entwined with an old horror movie. Finding sensual satisfaction from watching naked, stereotyped teenagers get killed is acknowledged as #Problematic but, the film seems to say, our fantasies tend to be a little fucked-up. That's why they only exist in dreams and on the big screen. 

It's an interesting, highly personal re-contextualization of the slasher concept.  Schoenbrun has said that the film is as much about learning to enjoy sex after transitioning as it is riffing on Jason movies. I exist in too cis of a head-space to, perhaps, understand that element. A sequence where Kris talks about watching a horror movie and wanting to be the fleeing bimbo on the screen is pretty obviously important. The symbolism of the spiraling, interlocking lines of Little Death's vent mask were a little lost on me. I'm sure someone with a degree in Gender Studies would have something to say about the discussion around the role watching and being watched, being both within and outside the body during sex, plays in the film. 

I don't know much about that kind of thing. What I do know lots about is eighties slasher movies. The opening credits depict a litany of poster art, VHS boxes, Fright Flicks-style trading cards, merchandise, and industry articles about the long-running series. Clearly, Schoenbrun is as faithful to the marketing aesthetic of the “Friday the 13th” series as they were to the look and feel of nineties television in “I Saw the TV Glow.” The first glimpses we get at the “Camp Miasma” films, a sequence where Billy is humping with her male co-star when Little Death is reflected in her eye, is striking. When we finally get an extended look at the film-within-the-film, the results are dishearteningly not as faithful. As much as the film draws specific cues from “Sleepaway Camp” or “Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter,” the characters within the film are never less than utterly cartoonish. Including a female stoner with a huge mohawk, which feels a bit anachronistic for the early eighties. The sequence grows more exaggerated as it goes on, with every kill being followed by a massive geyser of blood. It is, simply put, quite bad, playing less like the creation of a loyal fan of the genre and more like a shitty “Saturday Night Live” sketch or something. The filmmaker clearly knew what the films they were paying homage to looked and felt like, so I can only assume that these moments of obnoxiously dumb parody are intentional. 

Moments this grating are especially baffling when other parts of the movie work so well. The filmmaker remains especially talented at unexpected needle drops, especially when pairing them with unexpectedly lyrical violence. The cinematography and visuals are interesting throughout.  Hannah Einbinder gives a thoughtful performance as Kris. Gillian Anderson adopts a kind of silly country twang as Billy, which takes some getting used to. However, she has fine chemistry with Einbinder and the acting choices eventually win me over. In other words, “Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma” is messy, too self-aware at times, and doubtlessly self-indulgent. At first, I was disappointed in it. As far as recent self-aware “Friday the 13th” homages go, I preferred “In a Violent Nature.” However, thinking about it, the film captivated me for its entire runtime and transported me. I suspect I will think about it a lot more in the future. [7/10]

Cry of the Banshee (1970)

You can get a good sense of the shifts the horror genre went through as the sixties became the seventies by looking at Vincent Price's career. The previous decade was defined by the classy chills of the Poe Cycle. Ten years later, his trademark films were about mad villains seeking elaborate, often gory revenge on those who wronged him. The transitional film between these two styles was, of course, the intense and violent "Witchfinder General." American International Pictures would attempt to replicate that one's success a few times. Most directly with 1970's "Cry of the Banshee." It was Price's 100th film and that would normally be a cause for celebration. Unfortunately, he hated making the movie, often citing it as one of the least favorite of his career. His relationship with AIP and Sam Z. Arkoff was on the skids at the time, no doubt contributing to Price's ire towards the film. All of this makes "Cry of the Banshee," despite its low standing in its star's career, something of the end of an era. It is often cited as Price's last gothic horror film, which is close enough to the truth. 

Lord Whitman is a rich magistrate, his grand manner overlooking a simple village. He is obsessed with stamping out the local witch community. Alongside his two sons and henchman Bully Boy, he often raids and terrorizes sabbaths and rituals. One such coven is led by a witch named Oona, who places a curse on the Whitman family in retaliation. An otherworldly spirit takes over the body of Roderick, the servant boy that both Whitman's daughter and wife are sleeping with. The supernatural activity increases: The eerie howl of a banshee is heard outside the castle at night. A demonic black dog begins to attack the locals. An inhuman beast prowls the grounds. Both Lady Patricia and Maureen Whitman have visions of madness. The Lord only increases his witch-hunting shenanigans in response to these events, seeking out Oona to end the curse.

Scholars of folk horror, or at least the people who made that long-ass documentary on the subject, refer to the three films that kicked off the modern iteration of the subgenre as the Unholy Trinity: 1968's "Witchfinder General," 1971's "Blood on Satan's Claws" and "The Wicker Man." "Cry of the Banshee" represents something of the bridge between those first two titles. It's a blatant imitation of Michael Reeves' film, featuring Vincent Price again in period garb and performing medieval torture on supposed witches. There's a branding, some stocks, a burning at the stake, and a spin on the breaking wheel. There's also some rape and coerced confessions. The rebellious witches frolic in nature with flowers in their hair, clearly drawing parallels to the hippy movement. The end credits go so far as to separate the cast into two opposing groups, the Witches and "The Establishment." "Blood on Satan's Claws" was going for more of a Manson family vibe than a flower power angle but both movies clearly look to the witch hunts of the past as a way to comment generational conflict of the early seventies.

Unfortunately, “Cry of the Banshees” seems uncertain about which side of this conflict we should root for. Now, obviously Lord Whitman and his raping, torturing cohorts are vile people who deserve our scorn. His wife and daughter, meanwhile, are largely innocent bystanders caught up in things. While the film certainly focuses on the cruelty of the witchhunters, it also takes place in a world where witchcraft is real and dark, magical powers do exist. This muddles the waters a bit. It's also simply another symptom of the film's inability to focus on one idea for too long at all. “Cry of the Banshee” has entirely too many characters, few of them being that distinct from one another or memorable. Forgive me if I couldn't always recall which of these guys is Whitman's evil son and which is merely his evil henchman. At one point, a random grave robber wanders into the story to drop some key information before wandering back out. The nature of the supernatural threat changes often too. The movie cycles through witchy curses, a black-coated demon dog, and an off-screen unearthly shriek before finally deciding on becoming a werewolf movie in the last third. It's all over-the-place, unfocused, and often hard to follow.

That doesn't leave the viewer much to enjoy. The interrogation and execution sequences lack the brutality and indignation of “Witchhunter General's” similar scenes. None of the film's other horrors are that intriguing. “Cry of the Banshee” was filmed at W.S. Gilbert's manor and that's a cool location. There's some okay use of shadow and colors. The glimpses we get of the werewolf make it look like a moldy-faced gorilla costume, making the choice to keep it to the shadows likely for the best. Price might not have thought much of the project but he is still doing his best to make it entertaining. There's a cool shot of him dressed like Henry VIII in that famous portrait. He doesn't play the character as only a cold-blooded villain, allowing the lord to show his fondness for his family and his steadfast belief in his own, wicked quest. Mostly, Price is at his campy best when showing wide-eyed panic and fear. Also, he gets to wield a blunderbust in a few scenes and that's fun too. 

“Cry of the Banshee” exists in two versions. Director Gordon Hessler's original cut runs 91 minutes long, features an animated opening credits sequence from Terry Gilliam, and a score by Wilfred Josephs. Before releasing the movie domestically, A.I.P cut out most of the nudity and some of the violence in order to receive a GP rating, taking the runtime down to 87 minutes. They also ditched the animated opening and had Les Baxter compose a new score. (AIP also slapped Edgar Allen Poe's name all over the posters, utilizing the same trick that turn “Witchfinder General” into “The Conqueror Worm” by briefly including some lines from one of Poe's poems – in this case, “The Bells” – at the beginning.) Neither cut of the movie features a banshee at all. Which is kind of disappointing. That would be a cool, underutilized monster to built a film around. While the director's cut is a slight improvement over the U.S. edit, “Cry of the Banshee” is subpar in any version. Vincent Price's theatrical vamping has elevated middling material before but this one mostly feels reheated from superior work. Also, the devil dog looks a little like my dog, presumably because all black German Shepherd mixes kind of look the same. [5/10] 

The Ray Bradbury Theater: A Sound of Thunder

It’s probably the most famous of Ray Bradbury’s short stories, to the point that it would eventually receive a (very bad) feature film adaptation. The premise, of dinosaurs and time travel from a futuristic society, are also quite ambitious. That’s probably why the low-budget “Ray Bradbury Theater” didn’t adapt it until the third season. For those who don’t know, “A Sound of Thunder” begins in a sci-fi future, where time travel has become common technology. Following an election where a fascist dictator nearly became President, big game hunter Eckels heads into the offices of Time Safari Inc. He pays an exorbitant cost to go back in time to the Mesozoic and hunt a T-Rex. His guide Travis gives him strict rules to follow: He must stay aboard a floating platform and can only kill animals already destined to die. Any other disturbance to the environment may have horrifying effects on the future... Rules that Eckels inevitably breaks. 

I honestly don’t know how famous Bradbury’s story is among people who don’t read science fiction. However, the central twist the story leads up to – that seemingly the most inconsequential of changes in the past can unknowingly have enormous effects on the future – has long since entered common knowledge. Bradbury’s story isn’t the origin of the term the butterfly effect but is often mistaken as such, because Ray also used a mere Lepidoptera as the symbol of how little things can set off chain reactions with massive consequences. Unfortunately, this has the downside of making any adaptation of “A Sound of Thunder” leading to a foregone conclusion. The minute the story introduces the idea of a strict set of rules that must be follow in the past, it’s only a matter of time before they are broken and birth a strange new future. 

If anything, I think the future that the death of one butterfly 65 million years ago sets off might be too similar to the one already established. The future the cast arrives in at the end isn’t that different from the one they left. It’s effectively the same except for two key changes: Language and writing is kind of fucked-up and the heavily foreshadowed crypto-fascist running for president has won, birthing an era of American Nazism. (Something that, ya know, could never happen.) Anything more elaborate than that was also probably outside the show’s budget. It’s also faithful to Bradbury’s story, likely because he wrote the script himself. Still, more extreme changes would probably be a better, more surprising illustration of simply how much that little butterfly – a species that really does date back to the Cretaceous – actually did matter to history. 

Then again, maybe Ray accidentally predicating the butterfly effect isn’t the point of the story so much. “A Sound of Thunder” is mostly a simple tale of hubris. Its big game hunter goes in search of dinosaurs because he believes he’s killed every dangerous creature alive. The sight of the tyrant lizard king, however, sends him into a panic. It turns out there is something bigger than himself and the idea terrifies him, leading to his downfall. I’m always happy to see shitty hunter types get what’s coming to them. Kiel Martin plays Eckles as properly haughty and then spineless, a good contrast to the ice cold but fearless take John Bach provides to his guide. The idea is simple: History shows again and again how nature points out the folly of man. A focus on that moral over what ends up happening would’ve resulted in a more satisfying pay-off, I think. Or perhaps that’s simply my familiarity with the source material and this episode featuring a mediocre animatronic dinosaur influencing my opinion. Still a better take on the story than the 2005 movie. [6/10]

Friday the 13th: The Series: Vanity's Mirror

Mirrors are objects loaded with symbolism, certainly when it comes to the topic of vanity, which makes it unsurprising that “Friday the 13th: The Series” would devote an episode to one. This one begins with a ragamuffin flower vendor attempting to convince the guy in a nice suit that buys roses from her every day to love her. When that doesn’t work, she reflects light from a compact in his eyes, magically inducing a powerful infatuation. This has deadly consequences. In the aftermath, homely high school student Helen Mackie picks up the compact. She quickly deduces its magical mechanics. She uses it to make the jocko friends of her sister’s handsome boyfriend – who, of course, Helen has a crush on – fall in love with her. And this show being what it is, all of those sudden love spells result in death too. When Micki showing up at the girl’s door is unsuccessful, Ryan goes undercover as a high school student to find out more. 

Auditioning for the part of an “ugly” girl, only to win the role, must be demoralizing for an actor. That unfortunately sets up what is the rather fucked moral of “Vanity’s Mirror.” The script never considers that unfair social pressures placed on young women to make themselves stand up to an impossible beauty standard might deserve any blame for this situation. The woman in the first scene is simply a villain. Helen is not much more sympathetic. A few hours after figuring out how the mirror works, she is already callously engineering the gruesome death of somebody. She becomes fully ruthless right after that, never once being shocked or unsettled by the violence she is reaping. The unusually down-beat end of the episode is similarly pitiless to the girl. This one ends without any sense of “justice” being served and seems to come to the conclusion of “Well, some people are just ugly, inside and out, and there’s nothing we can do about it.” 

I, for one, do not agree with this. I believe it’s cartoonishly unfair to a sixteen year old girl to turn her into a remorseless serial killer and then off her in such a callous way, for the crime of being “ugly.” Whatever happened to the idea of beauty being subjective? Let’s not take the side of the high school bullies here. I get that “Friday the 13th: The Series” only has forty-five minutes to tell its story and is, on the best of days, still a fairly dumb or silly show. However, this one left me feeling depressed in a decidedly un-satisfying fashion. Using demonically infused mundane objects to make someone fall in love with you is bad, as “Obsession” already hammered into our heads this season. But, I dunno, maybe making a young girl with an ungainly nose and some acme into a serial killer simply because she has a crush on her sister’s boyfriend is kind of shitty. 

Outside of all of that, I suppose this episode has one or two moments. The instantly recognizable Zack Ward – not exactly a traditionally handsome fella himself and the episode doesn’t shit on his looks – appears as the first of Helen’s victims. His demise occurs off-screen but, by the standards of broadcast television in the eighties, is still quite gruesome. The second death is bloody too. Nebulous as its connection to Jason’s rampages was, this show was definitely doing its best to bring some Hollywood style gore to the small screen. However, the plot point of Ryan going undercover as a teenager is laughable. Moreover, he spends a large fraction of this episode unconscious on a floor. In fact, I’m pretty sure this is an episode of “Friday the 13th” where the Curious Goods crew have almost no effect on the plot at all. I guess Jack does save the sister from an unfortunate death trap but, otherwise, all of these events would have played out in the exact same manner without their involvement. Odd episode. [5/10]