Halloween 2025: October 7th

47 Meters Down (2017)

Nobody is going to make a better shark movie than “Jaws” but that hasn't stopped people from trying. In fact, shark thrillers are so commonplace that nearly every variation on the premise has been tried. Most of these sharks-ploitation flicks get chummed out onto DVD or video-on-demand, unnoticed by any but the most devoted fish fans. This was nearly the fate of “47 Meters Down.” The Weinsteins gobbled the movie up and intended to dump it on disc with the generic title “In the Deep.” (No doubt the re-titling was a result of Bob insisting that stupid Americans wouldn't know what a meter was and that “154.2 Feet Down” is a shitty title.) A week before the intended release, the movie was fished out of obscurity by a new distributor. I'm reviewing the movie now as part of my Horror Around the World journey. This is more than a bit of a cheat. The director is English, the producer is French, many of the names behind and in front of the camera were American. However, it was shot and co-produced in the Dominican Republic, making it another rare horror flick to come out of the Caribbean. Close enough for me. 

Adventurous Kate has convinced her more reserved sister Lisa to go on vacation with her in Mexico. This comes at a time when Lisa is especially vulnerable, having gotten unexpectedly dumped by her long-time boyfriend. The sisters meet two guys, Javier and Louis, in a bar. The men convince the women to go on an adventure the next day: They know a guy who owns a boat and claim they regularly go cage diving with his equipment, to observe the local great white shark population. Upon seeing the janky quality of the boat, Lisa is reluctant but Kate convinces her to go. After a few scenic moments under the waves and getting up-close with the huge fish, everything goes wrong. The wench breaks. The cage is sunk meters below. The sisters can communicate via the radio in their helmets but are outside the range of the boat. Their oxygen supply is limited. The depths are dangerous. The certainty of help arriving is not great. And, of course, there are the sharks. The sharks are very hungry.

I first became aware of Johannes Roberts thanks to his 2010 film, the unfortunately entitled “F.” (Released in the U.S. with the only slightly less bad title “The Expelled.”) That movie wasn't very good but it did prove that Roberts had a knack for creating well-orchestrated scare sequences. That's a skill he'd refine with future films, like “The Strangers: Prey at Night” and his “V/H/S/99” segment. Roberts wrote “47 Meters Down” too, so proud of it he put his name above the title. And he does good work here too. The camera work is often intimate, focused on the actress' faces as they struggle in the cages or swim through the depths. Smartly, the audience usually only sees what's visible in the limited amount of light they have. This makes it very easy for those sharks to sneak up. Once the predators are in frame, the film emphasizes the power, size, and speed of these animals. “47 Meters Down” gets a lot of mileage out of sharks naturally being terrifying and its heroines being quite literally out of their element. 

It is a good thing that “47 Meters Down” is so strong as a technical exercise. As a screenplay, it's rather preposterous. While discussing “247°F” recently, I was discussing the pitfalls of the confined space premise. This movie doesn't make as many unlikely contrivances as that one. Cage diving, when surrounded by sharks, is already a scenario with a degree of danger to it. The idea that something could go wrong doesn't seem improbable. However, once again, how do you get a whole movie out of people sitting in a cage underwater? The girls are repeatedly warned not to leave the cage. The script comes up with one excuse after another to have them do so anyway. Once they run out of air, the story is over, right? And there's not much of a movie here if the leads can't talk to each other? Trying to set up events so specifically that these elements don't impede the story does push the suspension of disbelief. That's only to make the story possible. To get this already dire scenario to escalate makes more wacky shit has to go down. By the time an errand spear gun or fake-out climax occurs, Roberts' screenplay is starting to push pass its luck.

The silliness of the material almost becomes part of the charm, in truth. The viewer can't help but wonder what bullshit excuse will come along to overcome this next narrative road block. A greater problem ultimately faces “47 Meters Down.” Claire Holt and Mandy Moore star as Kate and Lisa. Both give totally serviceable performances, convincing in their physicality and panicking well enough. The two banter nicely enough in the more light-hearted scenes. Roberts is smart enough to forego any melodrama between the two of them. “47 Meters Down” never resorts to bickering between its leads. Unfortunately, it doesn't think up anything else for substance either. Lisa's arc, of overcoming the heartache of being dumped and trying not to be such a closed-off person, is extremely thin stuff. Kate, meanwhile, doesn't even have that much depth to her. “47 Meters Down” surely would've been a tenser thriller if the viewer was more invested in the main characters.

Maybe that doesn't matter so much. Maybe the viewer is meant to simply put themselves in this same situation, to wonder how they'd do if stuck in a cage under water and surrounded by ravenous sharks. Perhaps that kind of what-if thinking doesn't work on me, a person who would absolutely never be out on the water in the first place. Much less under it. I've seen too many shark movies for that! I'm not going in the ocean! Simply as a delivery system for Great White Shark related thrills, “47 Meters Down” does its job. Roberts is skilled enough to get more out of this premise than a weaker filmmaker could. He also knows when to cut it off, the movie not overstaying its welcome. The special effects are strong too, better than your usual direct-to-video sharks-ploitation flick. Putting the movie in theaters was a smart move. It grossed sixty-two million. Roberts came back for a sequel and another follow-up is currently awaiting release. Apparently some DVDs with the title “In the Deep” did make it out there though, becoming collector's items of some value. Not much Dominican color though but I did have a reasonably entertaining time with this one. [6/10]

Warlock III: End of the Innocence (1999)

Look at the poster art for "Warlock III: End of the Innocence." It is, somehow, perfectly representative of the time and place from which it emerged. The release of "Scream" in 1996 revitalized the horror genre by emphasizing a hip youthfulness that, I guess, somebody felt it had been lacking. That meant a succession of movie posters that put the young, photogenic faces of its cast right up there, front and center. Despite cashing in on the title of a cult classic from a prior era in horror, "Warlock III" does exactly that. Paradoxically, the edgy fashion of the actors on-display, their brooding faces, and the pseudo-poetic subtitle suggest a film desperate to appeal to the alternative and goth subcultures of the late nineties, people opposed to the shiny, pretty aesthetic of the mainstream. Notably not among those faces is Julian Sands, the star of the previous "Warlock" films, whose particular screen presence was a big factor in the franchise's success up to that point. All of these elements seem to tell the viewer that TriMark's attempt to revive "Warlock" six years after the last one wanted to appeal to a massive audience but also a niche subculture but not fans of the previous movies this one is ostensibly a sequel to. Seems very counterproductive to me but I guess I'm not a Hollywood marketing guy. 

I say ostensibly because, yes, "The End of the Innocence" shares no connection to either of the previous "Warlock" movies, aside from featuring a blonde British guy in black killing people with magic. Our protagonist is Kris, a college art student. Adopted as a child, she has no knowledge of her true parentage. When she receives news of inheriting a secluded house in the countryside, she takes it as a chance to uncover more information about her birth parents. She goes alone and discovers a dilapidated and isolated home, beginning to have strange dreams and visions of a little girl with a doll. Her boyfriend Michael arrives unannounced and brings their friends with him: The wiccan Robin, the pining Jerry, and the kinky couple Scott and Lisa. All of them are unaware that, some three hundred years earlier, an evil warlock named Philip Covington lived in this home. He attempted to sacrifice a child – seemingly Kris' ancestor – but was imprisoned in the home's walls. Now he is free again. He uses dark magic to convince Kris' friends, one by one, to surrender her to him so that he can make the girl the mother of a child from Hell. 

It is not only the poster design that pinpoints “Warlock III's” existence to the late nineties. Director Eric Freiser's few previous credits include some weird sounding sci-fi short film with Steven Weber and writing the straight-to-TV sequel to “Midnight Run.” He does not show a distinct visual style of his own. Instead, “The End of the Innocence” generally emulates the edgy, heavy metal music video style images popular at that time. The settings are usually underlit, grimy and dank, with lots of green tinting. Many split-second cuts occur, to supposedly scary shit in similarly dismal locations. I hope you think images of little girls in raggedy white dresses, holding an old doll, is the pinnacle of horror, because this movie does. These cuts are often accompanied by the sound effect of an eagle screeching, a quirk the movie abuses so frequently that it becomes hilarious. As if removing any doubt in the viewer mind that “Warlock III” wants desperately to look like a Marilyn Manson music video, the film has a generally overbearing soundtrack. It's mostly uninspired alt-pop more in the Soul Asylum tradition than industrial metal. 

The script for “The End of the Innocence,” by Freiser and TriMark producer Bruce Eisen in his sole writing credit, is quite confusing. The exact connection between Kris and the little girl we keep seeing flashbacks of is never quite defined. How it is known the house is in her name when she doesn't know who her real parents are especially baffles me. I was never quite sure why exactly the Warlock had to corrupt Kris' friends, convincing them to willingly give up on her, for his magical ritual to work. On a more brass tacts level, the story doesn't work entirely because we do not care if Kris' friends sell her out to evil to escape eternal torment. Each one of them are so obnoxiously one-note. Thier kinky sex life is only thing defining Scott and Lisa. Jerry's crush on Kris and fondness of music is brought up a lot but never actually amounts to anything. The how and why of Michael's attachment to Kris is never shown to us. Trying to build actual tension of the dynamic between characters we don't care about, with so little depth to them, leads to a movie without much tension. 

The first “Warlock' displayed a lot of creativity in how it re-fashioned vintage folklore about witches into an action/horror thriller. The second at least had a nutty imagination to it, in engineering gruesome and wacky special effects scenes. Sadly, the third film seriously lacks much any imagination at all. Compared to the road trip structure of the first two, sealing this “Warlock” entirely within a spooky old mansion – classical a horror movie setting though that may be – is disappointing. Unfortunately, said spooky house is mostly composed of nondescript hallways and generic dingy basement. The sequel cannot deliver the goods as a simple slasher movie either. There is one “Warlock”-style death scene, where the wizard turns a girl to glass before shattering her with some underwhelming CGI effects. Other than that, he doesn't do much besides set people on fire, rip throats out, make some one old or rotting, or just stick people in S&M torture chambers. Lame shit, man. 

Subbing in for Julian Sands is Bruce Payne. He's not bad. Payne has played bad guys a lot and can bring a certain degree of villainous charm, dark charisma, or brute force intimidation to the part. He looks good in black leather while gazing wickedly from the darkness. He simply doesn't bring the hint of chaotic glee that Julian Sands had. In fact, this Warlock seems to be having a fairly miserable time. “Hellraiser's” Ashley Laurence co-stars as Kris and she's merely serviceable in the part. Her presence draws inevitable comparisons to all the shitty “Hellraiser” sequels that came out in the nineties. I suppose we should be thankful that the Warlock didn't become like Pinhead, forced to strut his way through increasingly dire direct-to-video slop. There have been a few other attempts to expand this franchise – a Sega Genesis video game to tie-in with part two, a four issue comic book inexplicably published in 2009 – but otherwise this one successfully killed the franchise. [4/10]

Alien: Earth: Emergence

“Alien: Earth” starts to develop an actual sense of movement in its seventh episode but only a little. Disturbed by the brain-hacking that was done to Nibs and the apparent death of Isaac/Toodles, Wendy decides to round up a couple of the other Lost Boys and flee the island with her brother. I only say a “couple” because Slightly and Curly are involved in another subplot, seemingly forgotten by our heroine. They drag the face-hugged body of Arthur out into the jungle, walk around with him under false pretenses, and then gawk in horror as a creature bursts from his chest. This does not please Morrow and the Yutani team of commandos that have landed on the island. They end up getting captured by Prodigy's forces, who now have the new Chestburster in their possession. Good for them too, because Wendy just let the other Xenomorph out of its cage. It's okay, for her anyway, because the alien seems to obey her commands. Meanwhile, Boy Kavalier gets excited about a sheep. 

I hate to say something dramatic like “This episode of television broke me” but... At the very least, I think “Emergence” has successfully broke any interest I have in “Alien: Earth.” After six hours of watching the show spin its various wheels, we are starting to get some level of pay-off. Unfortunately, more must always be left for the next hour, to insure that streaming service subscribers remain ready to tune in next time. Thus, Morrow's entire scheme to manipulate Slightly into getting a Facehugger to impregnate someone and to sneak the invetro Xenomorph off the island amounts to the a big fat bunch of nothing. The hyper-confident cyborg mercenary immediately gets taken capture. This could have been avoided if the gestation period of the Xenomorphs, once they are inside a person, followed any sort of logical schedule. Instead, the aliens only burst out when the plot deems it dramatic enough, meaning some bad timing screws over the scheme the villain has been building up for almost the entire season. 

Much of the clusterfuckery that ensues in “Emergence” could have been avoided if the characters in this show did not routinely trust important decisions to children and idiots. Despite repeatedly telling us how brilliant the hybrids are, the Lost Boys have mostly acted like dumb-ass kids. After Toodles' inglamorous death last episode, this installment sees Slightly reduced to tears, Nibs have a complete psychological breakdown into anti-social behavior, and Wendy reaching what seems to be her rebellious teenage years early. Perhaps putting the minds of dying ten years old in super robot bodies was a bad idea! The obvious implication is that Boy Kavalier is, like all super-rich lords of industry and wannabe scientist, a complete fucking moron. When he discovers that the eyeball parasite can do complex math, his reaction is that they most put the creature into a human being next. His stern British man-servant stares at him in response, well aware that this Muskian man-child is seemingly preparing an insidious alien take-over. This is why insane Roman emperors got stabbed by their guards all the time.

This is, one assumes, meant to operate as commentary on the very stupid cyberpunk future we are actually living in. However, as I previously stated, simply pointing out that billionaire tech lords are all impulsive, entitled, idiotic children does not qualify as commentary to me anymore. Truthfully, though, I'm not upset. Because I don't care. Because I hate Boy Kavalier and his slumpy-eyed super-sheep. I hate Nibs. More accurately, I had no feelings about her at all until she started screaming, jumping, and tearing people's jaws off. Most of all, I hate that Wendy now has a pet xenomorph. She signals to it with in its own language, the beast attacking at her command and bowing its dome towards her. It is, in my opinion, all very silly and far too self-important in its ambitions to be accepted as camp. “Emergence” suggests two things to me. That this season's arc was made up as it went along. And that the people involved in writing this show were not interested in, nor especially respectful of, the same elements of the “Alien” franchise that I am. [4/10]

Beyond Belief: Kirby / Dust / Malibu Cop / A Joyful Noise / The Hooded Chair

I have enough nostalgia for “Beyond Belief? Fact or Fiction” to give it a second look this year. Once again, Jonathan Frakes presents five short stories, some of them being entirely fictional and some of them being extremely loosely based on true event. “Kirby” is named for the animatronic gorilla a special effects technician has built for an upcoming film. The producer treats Kirby and his creator poorly, resulting in the robot gorilla taking revenge when the man comes to the studio by himself. “Dust” follows a pair of college students who spot an attractive woman trying to break into a house. They decide to help her enter only to learn, the next day, that the home is abandoned. “Malibu Cop” sees a police detective investigating a murder on the beach he lives on. “A Joyful Noise” concerns a church choir group who all suffer unexpected delays on the way to practice, the same day the building happens to burn down. “The Hooded Chair” is about a rich collector buying a chair said to bring death to anyone who sits in it, a curse he soon discovers is real. 

“Beyond Belief?” is a show that essentially knee-capped itself with its own premise. By squeezing five stories into each episode, it necessitated each segment had to be short, extremely simple, and straight to the point. This led to most scenarios feeling like re-tellings of old urban legends and ghost tales, setting up a situation right away before immediately subverting it. This is very true of “Dust,” essentially a variation on the Vanishing Hitchhiker premise. The minute the two guys – one of which is played by the wacky room mate from the college seasons of "Sabrina the Teenage Witch" – spot the strange acting lady, you know she's a ghost. At least the way this is revealed, via their foot steps appearing in the dust on the floor, is mildly meat. “A Joyful Noise” plays out like something your mom would re-post on Facebook, a faux-inspirational and reportedly true event that proves that God is good and the universe is magical or something. Pretty lame but at least the actors, playing broad stereotypes of church-going black folks, are having fun.

Such an obvious “shot, chaser” construction to the stories makes a premise like “Malibu Cop” entirely unworkable. The second the sleazy cop mentions that he's had trouble sleeping, the audience puts two and two together. That leaves only two segments in this installment that kind of worked for me. “Kirby” is notable for being directed by Alec Gillis and featuring Tom Woodruff Jr. as the robot gorilla. One imagines that the veteran creature effects team probably have dealt with asshole producers who pushed them around like this. The characters are as one-note as can be, with the puppeteer being an innocent little angel and the producer a total jerk. However, an animatronic gorilla on the prowl does give this segment some novelty. As for “The Hooded Chair,” it's also extremely one-note and corny. Most obviously in the twist ending about the famous historical figure the chair is connected to. However, at least it has the kind of arrogant protagonist that deserves to be humbled by a magical object. The chair is pretty creepy looking too, as far as chairs go. [6/10]

Halloween 2025: September 23rd

 

Night of Dark Shadows (1971)

“House of Dark Shadows” did alright at the box office, well enough for MGM to green-light a sequel. The soap opera it had spun off from, meanwhile, experienced a steep decline in popularity shortly after the film's release. Some attribute this to an unpopular story line, that saw Barnabas Collins falling under the sway of off-screen elder gods called the Leviathans. Others blame the movie's success for the show falling off. The idea being that parents took their kids to see the “Dark Shadows” movie, were scandalized by the bloody content, and then forbid their children from watching the show. Whatever the reason, “Dark Shadows” would air its final episode on April 2nd of 1971, the series abruptly wrapping up all its lingering story lines with a hastily recorded voice-over narration. This did not stop production on a follow-up to “House of Dark Shadows.” Dan Curtis originally wanted to do a direct sequel but Jonathan Frid, fearful of typecasting, decided he wasn't going to play Barnabas any more. The decision was made to center the sequel, then entitled “Curse of Dark Shadows,” around the show's other male lead, the young and handsome Quentin Collins. The result was a film that did mediocre business and seemed to disappoint fans, who got a largely stand-alone story with loose connections to the series. But, hey, I watched the first one so might as well give “Night of Dark Shadows” a shot too.

Modernist painter Quentin Collins and his wife, Tracy, arrive at his stately family manor, Collinswood. The sprawling mansion, which Quentin has recently inherited, is oddly empty. Save for eerie housekeeper Carlotta and stuttering groundskeeper Gerald. Quentin and Tracy's friends, Alex and Claire, move onto the grounds and inform them of the residence's long history of haunting. In the tower room, Quentin discovers a portrait of a blonde woman from a hundred years prior. It was painted by his ancestor, Charles Collins, and is of his mistress, Angelique. (His brother's wife.) After the infidelity was discovered, Angelique was convicted of witchcraft and hanged from a tree before the mansion, her body left to rot. Charles, meanwhile, was entombed alive. It's not long afterwards that Quentin begins to act strangely, isolating himself in the tower and becoming aggressive towards Tracy. The couple soon realize they are the victims of ghosts, witchcraft, and a century old conspiracy of reincarnation. 

How much “Night of the Dark Shadows” connects to the series is a question I can't truly answer. However, the film does have more than a few things in common with “Burnt Offerings,” the haunted house movie Dan Curtis would direct four years later. In both, an unassuming married couple move into an aged, isolated mansion. In both, the spirit of a prior inhabitant begins to possess and effect the behavior of the current residents. Both movies also feature scenes where the male lead attempts to drown someone he loves in a swimming pool. “Night of Dark Shadows” doesn't have an old woman hiding in an upstairs bedroom but an elevated location, the tower studio in this case, is also the source of the haunting here. The parallels are probably coincidental, as “Burnt Offerings” was based on a novel that wasn't published until 1973. However, it is intriguing that Curtis would be attracted to these themes again. The connection between the two films can probably best be explained by Curtis obviously being a fan of New England set ghost stories and creepy, sprawling manors. 

 

A primary idea in both “Night of Dark Shadows” and “Burnt Offerings” is the question of how well we know – or are capable of knowing – the people we love. David Selby and Kate Jackson, as Quentin and Tracy, have an easy-going chemistry that seems genuine. Their romance is establish with scenes of gentle flirting and happy co-existing. When Quentin suddenly turns violent, it's a shock to his wife. In an earlier scene, the husband is happy to cuddle in bed. After his personality shift, he demands sex from her and nearly assaults her. She makes excuse for his suddenly violent behavior at first but eventually she has to flee to a friend's house. It reads a lot like a woman realizing the man she thought she could trust is actually an abusive piece of shit. It's a powerful idea to root a horror story in. Though a supernatural cause is behind this abrupt change in the movie, in real life, people lie and manipulate and slowly reveal their true colors only after some time has passed.

Like all ghost stories, “Night of Dark Shadows” is also a tale about how the past is much more alive than it seems. Quentin's ancestor was a cad, an adulterer with no honor for his family who dabbled in witchcraft. His descendant is a laid-back, modern man. However, the sexism of the past is not that far gone. (Though the main antagonistic ghost being a sexually vivacious woman certainly muddles any attempts at a gender theory-informed reading.) In “Night of Dark Shadows,” the history of the location is heavily whispered about. Carlotta, the housekeeper, is always talking about the backstory of the family. Literal ghosts linger around,  reminding the living of the tragic events that happened here. The ghosts taking possession of Quentin and others is the most literal form of the mistakes of the recent past echoing into our present lives. A logical story to tell when your location is an old house, Lyndhurst Mansion in the Hudson River Valley providing both the exteriors and interiors of Collinswood this time. 

Whether “Night of Dark Shadows” can assemble these potent ideas and bitchin' location into a satisfying motion picture is a matter of opinion. The film has a sleepy, relaxed pace that is further emphasized by a melodic but sparse piano score. Lots of the story is composed of folks simply talking to each other and hanging out in the house. The backstory of Angelique's death is explained via an extended expository monologue and some not exactly natural seeming voice-over. The predictable but otherwise effective ending crashes into on-screen text, which is an awkward device. The role the housekeeper and groundskeeper play in what happens feels a little like a narrative ass-pull. There's also some pretty cheesy special effects, during an attempt nocturnal visitation from Angelique's ghost. However, for all its flaws, “Night of Dark Shadows” does have some brooding gothic atmosphere that attracts me immediately, its slowly evolving story pulling me in. 

The weird short-cuts in the plotting and narrative gaps are easily explained. Curtis' original cut of the movie was over two hours long. The studio asked him to cut the runtime down to a little over ninety minutes, supposedly giving Curits all of 24 hours to complete the task. The missing footage has been located but a restoration of the director's intended vision has yet to emerge. Maybe that version would've been better received in 1971. With the show canceled and the second movie considered a disappointment, the “Dark Shadows” franchise was more-or-less over. A rebooted version of the show, with an entirely new cast, started in 1991. Fans liked it but it was often pre-empted because of news coverage of the Gulf War, ultimately being canceled after only twelve episodes. A pilot for another remake was produced in 2004 but never went to series. Of course, there was the Tim Burton movie in 2012, which was not well liked by anyone. The hardcore “Dark Shadows” devotees – a shrinking but still very much alive community – has had to rely on audio dramas, dramatic readings, novels, and comics to see the original story continued. Which I guess is more than a lot of other cult classics get. While those hoping for more vampire action are sure to be disappointed, and it's nowhere near as scary as “Burnt Offerings,” “Night of Dark Shadows” is a decent haunted house story if you can get on its groove. [7/10]

 

The Girl in the Yellow Jumper (2020)

Here in America, we take a lot of shit for granted. When “Reservoir Dogs” and “Pulp Fiction” came out in the nineties, it didn't only launch Quentin Tarantino into Hollywood's stratosphere. It also made his particular approach – stylized dialogue, non-linear narratives, neo-noir gangland plotting, extensive references and influence from seventies exploitation films – an immediately imitative style. Tarantino wannabes were still popping up in the new millennium, though the wave had mostly burnt itself out by then. However, clearly, the “Kill Bill” scribe's influence is still being felt. Not only in Hollywood either. In 2018, Ugandan filmmaker Loukman Ali would shoot a low-budget project that fused the crime thriller, gory horror, dialogue-driven mystery, and some extremely evident influence from Tarantino. While most Uganda films don't receive much attention abroad, “The Girl in the Yellow Jumper” wound up on Netflix and has won some international notice.

An off-duty officer named Patrick is driving an old man, hand-cuffed in his back seat, to the nearest police station many miles away. Patrick is investigating the Cigarette Butt Killer, a serial murderer who has been slaughtering whole families, putting a cigarette out on their bodies, and always leaving one witness alive. Patrick believes the old man to be such a witness. While driving down an isolated road, he spots a man hitchhiking. He wears a yellow hoodie, has a bandaged right hand, and seems disheveled. He introduces himself as Jim. After some conversation, Patrick goads Jim into telling him his story. He says he's a newspaper cartoonist who was kidnapped by two women in yellow hoodies, extremist Christians who took offense to a cartoon he published. They tortured him, cut off several of his fingers, and attempted to bury him alive. Jim managed to escape, killing one assailant and damaging the others' car. This is what the man tells the cop anyway. The bloody truth will be revealed soon enough. 

More than once, I've heard aspiring filmmakers say the ideal premise for a first feature is two guys, sitting in a room, talking. Movies are hard to make, taking a lot of money, people, and time. A set-up that limits the numbers of warm bodies and locations necessary makes a project more achievable, in theory anyway. “The Girl in the Yellow Jumper” obeys this rule, for a while. Most of its runtime is devoted to two guys, sitting in a car, talking. The hard part is making such a microscopic premise interesting. Loukman Ali and his team succeed by following another rule, inherent in the noir genre: Nobody can be trusted. From the minute “Jim” appears, you wonder what his story is. His injured hand and visibly shaken state implies something happened to him. The story he tells is elaborate and hard to believe. At the same time, the man who picked him up seems kind of shifty too. For a supposed police officer, he has a busted up phone and a shitty car. He seems weirdly unaware of current pop culture, not knowing who Jim Carry or Bobi Wine are but throwing out references to “Diff'rent Strokes” and Brenda Fassie. That's odd, right? And what is up with the old guy in the back seat, who never speaks, never has his story explained, and is prone to coughing fits? How does this connect with the serial killer mentioned in the first scene? Does it? In other words, “The Girl in the Yellow Jumper” makes up for a lack of resources by being intriguing. The viewer has questions immediately and is willing to stick around to see if they are answered. 

Another element that keeps you hooked is that the conversations these two guys have are interesting. Both men are prone to going on digressions. Patrick tells an anecdote about an old woman, a band of robberies, and a thunderstorm. This presents the idea that someone innocent looking can be dangerous. That increases the tension in the car, as you wonder who is the scorpion and who is the frog here. I bring that fable up because a television broadcast, early in the film, mentions it to during his own meandering conversation. The most obvious ode to Tarantino comes during “Girl in the Yellow Jumper's” most colorful moments. That would be when a passing mention of the Ugandan version of the playground game people my age unfortunately called Chinese jump rope segues into an animated presentation on the rules. Later, another animated interlude explains why being shot in the kneecaps is especially painful. These moments are presented by an man in a lab coat with a deep voice, making them feel like official proclamations. Oh, did I mention that “The Girl in the Yellow Jumper” claims to be based on a true story? Which it reminds us of during an outrageous moment? It all captures the feeling of a talk between two friends, full of asides and digressions. The film has that same peppy energy and rhythmic flow to it. 

Which is to say that “The Girl in the Yellow Jumper” is easy and fun to watch, drawing the viewer in quickly and making us wonder where all of this is going. Sometimes, films like this can grab your attention before fumbling the reveals. Luckily, Ali has some tricks up his sleeve to make this game of misdirection worth it. The last third kicks off with a hell of twist, cleverly revealed, that flips what we thought was true before on its head. This precedes more narrative swerves before the end. Now, some of these surprises work better than others. The bloody climax is probably the most easily predictable event in the film, the film unable to ultimately catch all the balls it throws up in the air. However, Ali's script does a good job on paying off on many of the small, specific details set-up earlier. The position of a bag, a phone access code mentioned, a door that doesn't open right away: All of these are seemingly trivial details that end up being important lately. I enjoy a film that rewards you for paying attention like that. 

What holds the film together is a strong cast and a confident visual style. Michael Wawuyo Jr. as Jim and Maurice Kirya as Patrick are watchable leads, who deliver their dialogue with specificity and realistic vigor. The cinematography, from Naizi Nasser, makes great use of the warm, earthy colors of the Ugandan countryside. Orange sunlight and grimy, industrial settings creates a particular feeling. The opening, in which Jim is abducted by the title character, is stylishly shot and cut, building to a proper climax. When Jim describes the torture he endured, the resulting sequence feels like one of the better “Saw” rip-offs I've seen. It's tense, draws attention to the physical pain the character is in, but also doesn't annoy or repel the viewer. The editing, also from Ali, is tight and fast-paced. This comes in handy when the film bends towards being an action movie at times. Peppered in there are memorable moments of stillness, such as an owl roosting on a branch or a comical billboard. Truthfully, only some crappy looking digital squibs and muzzle flashes point to the limited money the filmmakers had. “The Girl in the Yellow Jumper” looks pretty damn good.

The film is good enough that I can overlook its biggest mistake: A jumper refers to a style of garment, usually cut in a dress shape, that is without sleeves or a collar and is held up over the shoulders by two straps. In England and other parts of the world, the word refers to what we Yanks call a sweater. The young lady central to this motion picture's plot wears neither a jumper nor a sweater. Instead, she has a hoodie on, a noticeably sleeved and collared top with an adjustable hood and large pockets. It is yellow though, I can't complain about that. Seriously though, “The Girl in the Yellow Jumper” is a fun, thrilling, tight flick that captures your attention and keeps it throughout. The script keeps you guessing and is smart enough not to reveal everything either. The cast is strong. The visuals are great. Loukman Ali has continued to work with Netflix, on an anthology series retelling African folktales. I'll have to check that out. He's clearly got the stuff, his influences evident but not beholden to them and delivered with a proper jolt of adrenaline. [7/10]

 

The Hitchhiker: Face to Face

HBO had been around since 1972 and had been broadcasting original programming since 1974. However, 1983 is when the premium network would truly start to invest in scripted programs. That year, they debuted "Philip Marlow, Private Eye," "Not Necessarily the News," "Fraggle Rock," and "The Hitchhiker." The latter most series is the one that really focused on how this wasn't TV, it was HBO. A typical example is "Face to Face," from the second season. It concerns Dr. Christopher Hamilton, an L.A. plastic surgeon so renowned that he's had multiple write-ups in People Magazine. He is well aware of his status, using it to sleep with any woman he desires. His skills attract the attention of Nina, a trans-woman eager to undergo plastic surgery to soften her harsh facial features. Dr. Hamilton spends the night before the surgery having cocaine-fueled sex with a movie star, being thoroughly hungover the next day. This leads to him horribly botching Nina's surgery, leaving her deformed. Presumably to avoid any malpractice demands, the doctor decides to flee to Paris shortly afterwards.... When a comely flight stewardess catches his eye. 

"Face to Face" is mostly a standard morality tale, of an asshole getting his just desserts for his hubris and selfish behavior.  Dr. Hamilton melodramatically introduces himself as a "sculptor of the flesh," comparing himself to both an artist and God in short order. He looks at every face and sees something to improve, deeming himself the arbiter of all beauty. Naturally, pride cometh before the fall and the story bends towards a properly ironic punishment for his ego and womanizing. Like many stories of this type, "Face to Face" criticizes these hedonistic habits while happily showcasing the villain protagonist's bad behavior. He sleeps with a pretty blonde assistant surgeon and later snorts some lines off Sybil Danning's boobs. With a soundtrack mostly composed of sultry saxophones, "Face to Face" is happy to play up the lurid details. The slow-motion close-ups of Danning in red lingerie thoroughly moves this into the "erotic thriller" subgenre. It is a bit of a surprise that Dr. Hamilton is played by an aging Robert Vaughn. Not exactly a sex symbol by 1984, which is probably part of the point but the script doesn't truly comment on it. It is surprising to see an actor of Vaughn's relative standing engage in such sleazy antics. Perhaps a chance to nuzzle the lauded bosoms of the August 1983 Playboy cover girl was too much to resist even for the Man from U.N.C.L.E. 

Inside this otherwise standard tale of flesh and blood is a shockingly sympathetic portrayal of a trans-woman. Now, "Face to Face" is not that ahead of its time. Nina is played by a cis actress, "Videodrome's" Sonja Smits. The camera lingers on her feminine features before depicting people being visibly repulsed by her rugged face. This societal monsterdom is taken further after the disfiguring surgery. While Nina is the avenging angel in the last act, the script still plays into the destructive stereotype of trans-women as deceptive figures out to “trick” hetero men. Despite hardly being inclusive, the script does give Nina a moving monologue halfway through. In it, she describes having lived her life knowing that her body didn't match her soul. How her parents and friends rejected her after she came out, how fetishists pursue her, how society at large rejects her, how eager she is to finally look in the mirror and see herself. Terms like gender dysphoria or gender-affirming care were as far away from the mainstream as possible in 1984 but this episode still reflects them fairly accurately. If nothing else, Nina is ultimately depicted as the story's hero, a queer figure striking back at the sexist, ragingly masculine authority figures that tell people like her how to live her life. That makes “Face to Face” both a pretty sleazy, silly, and disposable half-hour and also way more thoughtful than you'd expect. A strange dynamic but a welcomed one. [7/10]

 

The Addams Family: Morticia the Decorator

 

The matriarch of the Addams Family adds to her growing list of professions with “Morticia, the Decorator.” The sight of Fester polishing his head prompts her interest in the National Beautification Program. She decides to take up interior design as a passion. Gomez asks their next door neighbor, insurance agent Joe Digby, to insure their art collection. The outrageous offer of a million dollars gets Joe's attention. His wife, however, is terrified of the Addams. Through a series of misunderstandings, involving the trading back and forth of a stuffed vulture and a Sheraton sideboard, the Digbys end up getting volunteered to be the showcase home for Morticia's new passion. Of course, the vanilla Digbys find this whole situation quite traumatic. More shenanigans ensue as they attempt to wiggle out of the agreement without offending the Addams' sensibilities. 

As far as my recollection goes, the Digbys are at least the third next door neighbors the Addams have gone through over the course of the series. “Morticia, the Decorator” does provide an explanation that is, in retrospect, rather obvious: Gomez and the gang have a bad habit of literally scaring them off. The Digbys have only been around for three weeks, according to their conversation here. This presents a rather amusing visual, of the Addams' desolate yard and gothic mansion being smack-dab in the middle of an otherwise typical suburb. That contrast does lead to some amusing gags here. Such as Morticia transforming the Digby's garden into a literal desert, which is revealed through a good ol' fashion Gilligan Flip. 

However, the show returning once again to the worn-out set-up of the normies getting freaked out by the Addams means this is mostly a fairly standard episode. Eddie Quillan, making his fourth appearance on “The Addams Family” as his fourth character, gets a funny reaction when Gomez drops that million dollar offer. The oddly named Jeff Donnell – who you probably don't remember as Aunt May from the misbegotten seventies live-action “Spider-Man” series – has much more expected reactions as his wife. Having said that, there are a few decent gags here. Morticia busting out a vulture imitation without warning got me to chuckle, as did her reaction to what she finds in the vulture cage. Gomez' art collection and his wife's suggestions for the color scheme of the Digbys' home got me to chuckle too. Otherwise, about as middle of the road of an episode of “The Addams Family” as you could find. [5/10]

Halloween 2025: September 22nd

 

House of Dark Shadows (1970)

In 1965, Dan Curtis had a dream about a woman riding alone on a train. The next day, he pitched it to ABC, who immediately picked it up as a daytime soap opera. Curtis was only known as a producer of golf related programming but, I guess, he had enough sway for the network to take a gamble on this vague idea. This is the beginnings of "Dark Shadows," initially a black-and-white, half-hour soap inspired by the Gothic melodramas of the Bronte sisters. After about a year of daily broadcast, the ratings remained poor and ABC threatened to cancel the series. That's when Curtis, already a fan of classic horror literature, decided to introduce a vampire into the previously non-supernatural program. Viewership quickly improved. A cult following of teenagers made it ABC's most watched daytime program for a bit. After switching to color, "Dark Shadows" became a full-on monster mash. Witches and warlocks, ghosts, werewolves, zombies, demons, a Frankenstein, Lovecraftian eldritch abominations, cursed portraits, a doctor with a split personality, shadow people, and a crawling hand all appeared in short order. Sounds like my kind of thing, right? Probably should be but I have never truly watched “Dark Shadows.” It's possible that a soap opera, even one with monsters in it, was a big ask for me as a kid. As much as it would amuse me to own the 131 disc complete series box set, in the shape of Barnabas in his coffin and containing all 1225 episodes, I decided on a more practical way to finally get into this: Watch the 1970 film adaptation, “House of Dark Shadows.” 

The Colinswood estate has housed the Collins family for generations. While searching the grounds for hidden treasure, shady handyman Willie Loomis accidentally releases Barnabas Collins. Feeling peckish after a century chained up inside a coffin, the vampiric Barnabas sets out biting people. Introducing himself to the family as a distant cousin, Barnabas instantly falls in love with Maggie, the girlfriend of young Jeff and the spitting image of Barnabas' lost love. After a few people end up dead – including Carolyn, the daughter of matriarch Elizabeth – family friends Dr. Stokes and Dr. Hoffman suspect a vampire might be responsible. After Carolyn rises again and gets staked, their fears are confirmed. Realizing Barnabas is the bloodsucker, Dr. Hoffman agrees to give him special injections that might make him human. He is freed to pursue his romance with Maggie – never mind that she's engaged to Jeff – but life is rarely that uncomplicated for a lovelorn vampire.

Rather than being a spin-off of the TV show, “House of Dark Shadows” instead sees Dan Curtis retelling the show's most popular story line, with a feature film budget and no network censors breathing down his neck. This would, you'd think, make it an ideal starting place for a “Dark Shadows” novice like myself. However, the film's roots as a highly serialized TV show with lots of backstory is still very evident. The film has a large cast, Elizabeth and her kids and their love interests, all floating around. Little time is taken to properly introduce us to any of them. Moreover, “House of Dark Shadows” goes about condensing – rather than stream-lining – the source material's various subplots. The film's runtime is made up of competing plot threads. Whether the movie is about Barnabas' romance with Maggie, Dr. Hoffman trying to cure Barnabas and her infatuation with him, or Carolyn rising from the grave as a vampire too is dependent on at which minute you're watching it. This sometimes lead to the film feeling like it has skipped over certain plot points – perhaps familiar to fans of the show – such as people becoming vampires off-screen. 

The somewhat unfocused plotting is far from the only indication that this is an adaptation of a soap opera. The emotions are, unsurprisingly, pitched at an unusually high volume. When we first meet Willie Loomis, before he becomes Barnabas' Renfield-ian thrall, he suggests that he's blackmailing other members of the family. Before Carolyn gets her blood drained by him, she randomly seems to announce romantic feelings for the vampire. Later, Dr. Hoffman does the same thing, having fallen in love with between scenes, it seems. This is excluding the central romance between Barnabas and Maggie, which at least has some lost souls reconnecting over the eras type shenanigans going on. The point is, yes, “House of Dark Shadows” is quite melodramatic at times, very concerned with the romantic entanglements between its characters and various other types of intrigue. 

None of it is especially compelling on its own, “House of Dark Shadows” mostly feeling rather ham-fisted and slow-paced for most of its runtime. However, Curtis, cinematographer Arthur J. Ornitz, and the production designers certainly had a strong grasp on that classic monster movie atmosphere. Yes, “House of Dark Shadows” frequently looks cool as fuck. The sets and exteriors, many of which are shot at actual historical homes and cemeteries around Tarrrytown, New York, are all awash with age and ambiance. Sequences of the vampire brooding in his tomb or Carolyn wandering through the fog, Lucy-like, all touch my inner monster kid. The last act of the film sees the darkest, dustiest corners of Collinswood overcome with mist floating at ankle level. That's when the movie finally won me over, when Barnabas abducts his love and descends into the spookiest chambers of the crumbling house. When paired with some bloody neck biting and stakings, far more graphic than what could be shown on the series, that's the good shit. I wish all of “House of Dark Shadows” was like that. 

Much of “Dark Shadows'” cult following is because of Barnabas. In the days before “The X-Files” and “Buffy” made horror and sci-fi plots on TV hip, monster fans and baby goths had to settle for whatever spooky business they could find. In this dark age, any show with a vampire or werewolf in it was all-but guaranteed a cult following, even if it was otherwise a standard cop show or a cheesy soap. As a character, Barnabas Collins is written inconsistently. Whether he's meant to be a love-lorn anti-hero or a blood-thirsty monster, ready and able to kill at a moment's notice, changes from scene to scene. Are we suppose to root for this guy or be afraid of him? The answer is, obviously, both. He's a byronic hero in the gothic tradition, right? I'm not sure it entirely works. However, I do understand why the guy became an instant fan favorite. Jonathan Frid does have a compelling screen presence. He projects the proper amount of mysteriousness, strangely attractive even when being awful to everyone around him. Frid has the same qualities as Karloff, Lugosi, and Price before him: Intimidating but with sad eyes, sullen but with a stylish charm about him. He could've been a great horror star, if he had chosen to walk that path. 

Ultimately, I feel like I'd probably like “House of Dark Shadows” more if it wasn't an adaptation of a television show with an intimidating amount of episodes to its name. When it is allowed to function as a simple vampire story, a “Dracula” variant about a bloodsucker dropping in on extended family and lusting after a young maiden, I had a good time with it. When hopelessly juggling a dozen characters and playing up the melodrama, I found it a bit on the tedious side. Nevertheless, the movie has made me a bit curious about the TV show that spawned it. A quick Google search reveals that the entire series – the vampire-less first 209 episodes listed as a separate show called “Dark Shadows: The Beginning” – is streaming on Tubi right now. Dare I take the plunge? As for the movie, it's okay but lacks the necessary bite to entertain consistently. [6/10]

Luz: The Flower of Evil (2019)
 

Any time a noticeable trend starts to emerge in the genre, the question begs to be asked. Are all these similar movies arriving because they are commenting on something happening in our collective culture? Or is everyone simply trying to leech off another hit's success? Did the folk horror revival of the last decade occur because of a growing, worldwide fascination with pagan rites, ancient legends, and the psychology of cults? Or did a bunch of hacks see "The Witch" and "Midsommar" and think "If I make a movie like that, I could probably get it distributed all over." The correct answer is both, one assumes. However, you can usually tell which filmmakers are genuinely into folklore as a concept and which merely want to cash in. There's been a lot of indie horror movies full of weird shit happening in the woods, stark but very green landscapes, religious enclaves as plot points, and farm animals photographed ominously in recent memory. This is a worldwide phenomenon too. Look, for example, at 2019's "Luz." (Usually subtitled "The Flower of Evil," to distinguish it from the German horror movie of the same title released the year before.) This was a film made in Colombia, a country not usually known for its horror flicks, and one must wonder whether it represents an eager attempt to bring local culture to an international audience or more economic concerns. 

Deep in the Colombian jungle resides a man known only as El Señor. He lives in a simple wood cabin with his three teenage daughters: Uma, Zion, and Laila. The man believes himself to be a prophet of God, with divine insight into the ways of the world. He has raised his daughters in this faith, informing them that the outside world is evil and that the Devil is everywhere. He has amassed a small local following as well. Since the death of the girls' mother – whose body was planted under a barren tree – the man's behavior has grown increasingly unhinged. He has begun to kidnap children from nearby areas and proclaim them to be the new Messiah, treating them cruelly in hopes of goading them towards performing miracles. When they inevitably die, he buries their bones in the woods and moves onto the next one. The discovery of a cassette tape player among the girls causes them to doubt their father's ways, shortly before he brings home his latest Jesus. 

There certainly have been a lot of true crime documentaries, podcasts, and movies about cults over the last few years. I suspect this is because of the observation that the followings of openly fascist politicians have grown rather cult-like and how this has begun to direct our daily lives. Perhaps this is a reflection of a growing need for answers in a world ravaged by climate change and economic inequality. Or maybe some goofy shit went viral online. Either way, yes, "Luz" is another movie about a clearly unhinged, self-proclaimed prophet and his followers. Truthfully, El Señor's cult seems small. It is mostly composed of him and his daughters, with a handful of other people seen around in a few scenes. Writer/director Juan Diego Escobar Alvarez' script never exactly details the tenets of the cult's beliefs or what draws people to this man. There's disappointingly little insight into the psychology behind social systems like this. We see El Señor abusing his position of power. He lords over his daughters, controls every aspect of their lives, and rapes the woman whose son he abducts. Here in the real world, most cult leaders are simply assholes with God complexes who want sexually pliable followers at their feet, who prey on the vulnerable with made-up beliefs to exploit those weaknesses. El Señor seems to genuinely believe the rhetoric he's spitting. How this appeals to those around him, especially when the Messiahs he keeps bringing home have a habit of dying, is left unexplored. Similarly, how the man justifies his cruel actions within his own made-up morality is not dug into. 

Instead, Alvarez' film suggests a lot. Past events, mostly revolving around the girl's dead mother, are hinted at in dialogue. The film is shot with a deliberately stylized palette and exaggerated natural features. The moon is huge in the sky, the rainbows under the clouds are prominent, the colors are extra bright. The voice over narration from one of the girls suggests we are seeing her version of events.... Despite the film including scenes without her, creating a confusing sense of perspective. More than once, the film's surreal tendencies point towards the possibility that something genuinely supernatural is happening here. However, whether this is an example of group hysteria among an isolated trio of impressible kids or proof of an actual demonic presence is frustratingly never clarified. The Jesus kid stares ahead unblinkingly and never speaks, which makes you think something is up with him. He also never explicitly does anything miraculous or diabolic. There are creepy images of a Luciferian goat, Black Philip's southern-most cousin, lurking in the night fog. Is this a hallucination of the daughters or further evidence of the devil being real? Are the girls possibly magical? Was their mom? I dunno. The film doesn't seem to know either. 

The most cynical part of me feels like "Luz" wants it both ways. The film wants to utilize the visual cliches of modern folk horror to create an eerie atmosphere while also half-heartedly implying that all of this stuff only exists in the heads of its followers. The characters discuss the potential for good and evil in all of us, a theme that never seems to solidify into anything potent. Each of the sisters seem to have different degrees of belief in their dad's rantings. However, none of the girls are fleshed-out enough to be compelling characters in their own right. In general, Alvarez seems most interested in the social drama elements of this story. El Señor has hang-ups with women. He wants to protect his daughters, while indulging in his own base desires. His doctrine has not prepared the girls for the realities of human interaction. Uma does not understand her own body or the consequences of sex. This predictably ends badly, in the film's grisliest scene. Yes, this is another moody indie exploring the always relevant topic of "dudes suck." However, there's simply not much depth to the observations made. The attempts to wrap them in horror trappings ultimately lack novel or gusto as well. 

Alvarez lists Alexandro Jodorowsky as an influence, a filmmaker that might be an actual cult leader with questionable attitudes towards women. Aside from the surreal colors, it's not a link I especially notice. "Luz" does not have the sheer intensity of Jodorowsky's visions nor the deep investment in their esoteric significance. But that's true for most movies. By the way, the title comes from the dead mother's name with the subtitle of "The Flower of Evil" referring to the tree above her grave. Not that I'm entirely sure how exactly that connects with the rest of the movie's ideas "Luz" shows some promise. Alvarez has made another feature since, which sounds more rooted in Colombian folklore. He should've done that here too and left the demonic goats behind, while focusing on the elements of the script that actually interested and making the girls into more detailed characters. [5/10]

 

Tales to Keep You Awake: The Junkman
Historias para no dormir: El trapero

The episode of “Tales to Keep You Awake” I watched last year was quite good and made me curious to check out more of this ground-breaking Spanish television series. Unfortunately, there's not a lot of information about the series and its creator and sometimes host, Narciso Ibáñez Serrador, on the English language web. I do know that the series took a long hiatus after its 1967 season, while Serrador pursued a number of other projects. Eventually, Serrador would return to “Historias Para No Dormir” in 1982, for a quartet of feature length episodes, now in color. The last of this was “El trapero,” “The Junkman.” If IMDb's listings are to be believed, this might have been the fourth time Serrador told this story.  Each are loosely inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's “Berenice” and each star Serrador's father, Narciso Ibáñez Menta. I say might because I can find no information about the 1959 or 1965 versions. A half-hour fragment of the 1975 version is on Youtube so we can be certain it did exist. The language barrier and generally obscurity of foreign television makes it a difficult topic to research.

Anyway... Despite being an entirely Spanish production, “The Junkman” is set in London at the dawn of the Victorian era. Edmond is an elderly man who can barely support his family with his work as a junk man, someone who fishes valuables out of the trash. His mute wife Berenice and their dog Rosa appreciate what Edmond does for them anyway. His layabout, alcoholic adult son Bernard, meanwhile, is openly resentful of his father. A prostitute with a gold tooth is murdered and Edmond suspects his son, who was drinking in the same bar, might be the man responsible. Eventually, the authorities find the actual killer but still can't explain what happened to the woman's gold tooth. That is when Edmond uncovers an entire collection of plucked out gold teeth in his son's cabinet. The father comes to believe that his son, when intoxicated, develops a compulsion to rob graves and dig through the jaws of the corpses. Following the gruesome death of Rosa, and the tragic passing of Berenice, the tension between father and son comes to a head. 

I'm pretty used to the non-existent production values of classic British television. It's not surprising to see that Spanish TV had similar standards, as late as 1982. “El trapero” mostly takes place on a series of stationary sets. The majority of scenes happen in the family's home or at the local bar. Despite the story revolving around grave robbing, we never see a disinterred body. This isn't to say the seventy-minute program is flat looking. The scene depicting the murder of the prostitute is rather dramatically framed, climaxing with a surprisingly bloody throat slashing. (That moment reminds you that Serrador also directed the giallo influenced “The House That Screamed.”) Bernard having an alcoholic freak-out at the bar features some swirling, hypnotic camera movement. Still, this does feel a bit more like a chamber drama than you might expect. 

Despite these flaws, “El trapero” does prove to be a compelling, at times chilling, narrative. A lot of this is because Narciso Menta and Daniel Dicenta's performance. Menta has such a sense of history and feeling in his eyes. His face conveys a life time. When discussing how much his wife's partnership or their family dog means to him, you truly believe him. Dicenta, meanwhile, is all sweat and nervous energy as the boozy son. His delirious detox nightmares or drunken rants truly give the impression of a man at the end of his rope. The tension between the two escalates towards a suitably unsettling finale. The concluding image of the episode – which would also be the concluding image of the entire series – is creepy as hell, following a potent twist ending. Not so much an adaptation of Poe's story as an evolution of its themes, “El trapero” does prove to be an effectively tense program for patient horror fans. [7/10]

 

The Addams Family: Happy Birthday, Grandma Frump
 

Margaret Hamilton was clearly too good of a guest star not to bring back, especially after Ophelia became a reoccurring character. “Happy Birthday, Grandma Frump” has Gomez and Morticia being aghast that they were not invited to donate money to a retirement facility. (Called a “home for the aged” here, which I guess is nicer than “old folks home.”) Gomez instead decides to fund his own. On a totally unrelated note, Morticia decides to pay for a week long stay at a spa for her mom's birthday. While Granny Frump is visiting, the mischievous kids tell her that their parents are planning on shipping her out. Frump mistakenly comes to believe that Gomez and Morticia are sending her off to pasture, so she attempts to prove her usefulness. Through further misunderstandings, this leads to the elderly lady trying to act like a little kid again. Morticia, noticing that her mother is acting very strangely, seeks out a psychiatric institute to help.

Obviously, this is a very silly episode, even by the standards of this admittedly extremely silly series. “Happy Birthday, Grandma Frump” is one of those sitcom half-hours revolving around the kind of improbable misunderstandings that only happen in television, getting more convoluted as it goes on. But that's okay, for a simple reason: Watching Margaret Hamilton acting like a lunatic is funny. Whether she's frantically dusting the house, washing a huge pile of dishes at super speed, or hopping around on a Pogo stick while dressed as a kid, Hamilton is committed utterly to the bit. Honestly, I didn't know she was such a skilled physical comedian, able to embrace acting like such a goof-ball on-screen. Turns out the Wicked Witch of the West was a pretty funny lady! The joke comes to a natural conclusion when the on-going act of behaving like a child exhausts the grandmother. 

In general, this episode has a lot of strong gags in it. There's a throwaway sequence of Gomez and Morticia playing with his toy trains together, a delightfully goofy moment. The running gag of Gomez covering his wife's arm with kisses gets two amusing variation here. The first occurs as he's interrupted in the middle of a kissing frenzy, marking Morticia's sleeve so he can pick up where he left off. Later, she summons him while he's in the middle of shaving. With the exception of Blossom Rock as Grandmama – I guess one grandmother was enough for this episode – the whole cast is given some good jokes here. Lurch's reaction to the unusual gift Granny Frump brings, Uncle Fester's method for keeping his fingernails short, Thing's skill as a phone answering service: All good stuff. (Though the show has been returning to the joke of Mortician plucking on her shamisen while blabbing random Japanese words too often.) This episode also marks, outside the original Charles Addams comic strips anyway, the first time Wednesday was depicting torturing her brother as a fun game. As I've said in the past, Lisa Loring's Wednesday being such a classically adorable little kid makes the joke of her having such morbid hobbies much funnier, in my opinion. No shade on future Wednesdays, who deadpan sadism I obviously also love. [7/10]