Halloween 2023: October 14th

V/H/S/85 (2023)

The production companies behind the “V/H/S” found footage anthology series are clearly committed to making it a yearly tradition. Obviously, having a prime platform in Shudder has helped make this rebirth smoother. “V/H/S/94” and “V/H/S/99” were both pretty good, so why not keep things going? The franchise would return to the eighties this October with “V/H/S/85.” The batch of filmmakers invited to create retro-leaning tales of terror this time include: David Bruckner, returning to the “V/H/S” series with a far higher profile; Mike P. Nelson, of “The Domestics” and the “Wrong Turn” reboot; Gigi Saul Guerrero, who previously contributed to two separate Blumhouse series; Natasha Kermani, the director of “Imitation Girl” and “Lucky;” and Scott Derrickson, probably the highest grossing filmmaker to touch this franchise. Let's see how these tapes stack up?

“V/H/S/85's” framing device is a “Hard Copy” style tabloid news show, documenting a college doing experiments on a strange, shape-shifting creature they've discovered. Other segments are recorded over this program. “No Wake” shows a group vacationing at a lake, only to be attacked by an unseen killer and discover the water's unique properties. “God of Death” sees a standard day for a news program being interrupted by the 1985 Mexico City Earthquake, the survivors descending under the city and uncovering something horrible. “TKNOGD” is a recording of a performance artist who utilizes VR in her show, which summons something evil. “Ambrosia” continues “No Wake's” story, showing a family of serial killers gathering for a party. “Dreamkill” has  disturbing video tapes, depicting murders, mailed to the police department. The investigating detectives discover that these tapes are recordings of future events from a psychic boy's dreams. 

While talking about analog horror earlier in the season, I discussed how the main attribute of the subgenre is how it uses the physicality of the format. The “V/H/S” series was kind of ahead of the curve on this and it really comes into play in this sixth installment. “V/H/S/85” commits to replicating the visual language of VHS, playing with aspect ratios, film grains, and video errors. This is most apparent in David Bruckner's wrap-around segment, which replicates the look and feel of eighties television. Meanwhile, there are inserts throughout the film of home video like productions, whether they be backyard monster movies or live performances of a GWAR-like band. When combined with Guerrero's segment actually appearing to be shot on video and Derrickson's heavily featuring melting film reels, “85” becomes the first entry in the series to truly bring the analog vibes. 

But how do the segments themselves hold up? Bruckner's wrap-around features some gnarly make-up effects, even if wondering about what's going on with its strange creature is more interesting than what the movie actually reveals. (And it ends on a sick joke, something of a series tradition at this point.) Mike P. Nelson directs both “No Wake” and “Ambrosia,” a continuing story thread being something new in this series. Nelson has a talent for visceral violence. The gory deaths in “No Wake” and the brutal shoot-outs in “Ambrosia” make an impression, the bloody pyrotechnics hitting hard. Yet both segments never quite deliver on the intriguing ideas they promise. Revenants having to deal with their newly undead existence or a family tradition of mass murder feel like ideas that could be better explored in feature films. 

Guerrero's “God of Death” gets off to a strong start. The behind-the-scenes shenanigans of a news program provide a scene of normalcy. When this is abruptly interrupted by a natural disaster, with a beam crashing down on the newscaster's head, it is effectively shocking. Honestly, “God of Death” probably didn't even need to introduce any supernatural elements. A first-person perspective of a massive earthquake, full of bloody dismemberment and tragic circumstances, isn't a bad idea. Yet a link to Aztec mythology is introduced soon enough, which is when the segment goes off the rails. There's too much explanation of what's going on at this point, with the pay-off feeling like an extraneous  extension of the scenario. If nothing else, Guerrero – who also has a segment in “Satanic Hispanics” this year – does a good job of incorporating special effects.

“TKNOGD” is probably “V/H/S/85's” most intriguing segment. Like much of this anthology, it focuses more on the “found” than the “footage,” playing out like a video presentation from 1985. This creates an interesting set-up, as we see a performance art event go horribly wrong. The episode infuses some disturbingly graphic gore. Chivonne Michelle has a fitting type of intensity as the scene's central figure. Much like Kermani's previous films, “TKNOGD” also wears its ideas on its sleeves. Since it's about a performance artist speaking directly to the audience, there's plenty of chances for the script to make its points about technology and its impact on society clear. Also a joke about “Eye-Phones” is way too on-the-nose... Nevertheless, the combination of fucked-up violence and retro-VR nostalgia works well.

Derrickson's “Dreamkill” exemplifies both the strengths and weaknesses of “V/H/S/85.” There are several scenes in the segment, seemingly told from the perspective of a serial killer as they break into homes and cut people up. These scenes are distressingly vicious, which is further enhanced by the lo-fi presentation. Yet, much like Derrickson's “Sinister,” these intense moments are contained within a trite story. The mechanics of the dreamed predictions are both over-explained and fuzzy. The film invokes the eighties Satanic panic, by making the dreamer a goth kid, without doing anything with it. Moreover, Derrickson cuts between multiple camera sources, making you wonder why it's a found footage story at all. The gory executions in the last half are compelling but it was harder for me to care, as the script revealed more of its ideas. (Also, this segment apparently connects with “The Black Phone,” another Derrickson film whose parts were greater than its whole.) 

Ultimately, “V/H/S/85” has some clever ideas and a few stand-out moments. Yet I'm not sure I was entirely satisfied with any of the individual episodes. “TKNOGD” and Bruckner's wrap-around come the closest to hitting the spot for me. There's nothing here as striking as part one's “Amateur Night,” “Safe Haven,” “Storm Drain,” or “Ozzie's Dungeon.” I fear, by cranking these films out on an annual basis, the “V/H/S” films are starting to become a bit drained of creativity. I guess we'll see how true this concern proves to be when the seventh installment – already announced and said to have a sci-fi angle – comes out presumably next October. Personally, I'd rather the “V/H/S” series lean further into the analog aspect and see if they can rope Jane Schoenbrun, Kyle Edward Ball, Rob Savage, and maybe “The Backrooms” kids into one of these. [6.5/10]

Munster, Go Home! (1966)

Before “The Munsters” was canceled in 1966, Universal Studios assembled a feature film continuation of the TV show. “Munster, Go Home!” was supposedly put together in order to introduce European audiences to the characters before the series went into syndication over there. The cast and crew were only informed of the show ending after wrapping filming on the movie. One can't help but wonder if Universal wasn't curious to see if “The Munsters” could succeed outside the boundaries of the television screen, much like the classic monster movies that spawned them. This would prove to not be the case, as “Munster, Go Home!” was not especially successful in 1966. However, the big screen spin-off has become a minor cult favorite among fans of the show. 

Like several of the show's episodes, “Munster, Go Home!” is built around the idea of the family suddenly coming into a great deal of money. In this case, it's the news that an obscure family member has passed away and willed his manor in the English countryside to Herman. The Munsters clan is soon on a boat, headed towards merry ol' England. Further members of the Munster clan, especially the villainous Freddie and Lady Effigie, plot to steal lordship title from Herman by bumping him off. Grandpa soon uncovers why they are so eager to keep the manor: Freddie is running a counterfeiting operation out of the basement. It all comes to a head at a car race, where the DRAG-U-LA and a sports car – supposedly driven by Marilyn's latest love interest – steer against one another.

In 1966, one of the main selling points of “Munster, Go Home!” is it provided fans their first chance to see these characters in color. Truthfully, the novelty of seeing the Munsters in Technicolor – and without a laugh track – takes some getting used to. The movie also features some slightly racier jokes than the show, such as Marilyn's thighs showing when she gets out of a car or a snogging couple being interrupted repeatedly during the race. Yet the heart of the show is maintained. In fact, “Munster, Go Home!' recycles many of the gags we've seen from the show. Such as people fleeing in exaggerated terror from the family, Eddie sleeping in weird places, or Grandpa mixes up his magical pills. The scenes of Grandpa and Herman exploring the secret passageways of Munsters Hall feels like something right out of the TV show.

“Munster, Go Home!” being so similar to the TV show that birthed it makes the difference stick out all the more though. First off, Debbie Watson replaces Pat Priest as Marilyn, feeling more-or-less like a different character. Obviously having a larger budget than your typical episode of television, the movie features some more elaborate gags. A sequence where Cousin Freddie tries to scare the Munsters out of the home features dancing skeletons and blinking skulls, the kind of special effects probably slightly outside the show's scope. The finale of “Munster, Go Home!” is an extensive race sequence. While the DRAG-U-LA speeds through the countryside, Lily and Grandpa pursue him via motorcycle and horse. It certainly represents an honest attempt to make “The Munsters” worthy of the big screen.

While “Musnter, Go Home!” features a fairly standard screenplay, the movie does emphasize one of the re-occurring points of the series. The quote-unquote monsters are proven to have more heart than the seemingly normal looking humans. Freddie, played by a typically hammy Terry-Thomas, is a psychotic man-child more than willing to commit murder to achieve his goals. Lady Effigy is similarly cold-blooded. In general, the town folks around Munster Hall all display more prejudice than the family they reject. The Munster family name is hated by the locals, not because there's monsters in their bloodline, but because the human family members are such assholes. If “The Munsters” can be said to have any moral, it is “Don't judge someone based on their appearance.” The movie sees this idea through. 

Ultimately, “The Munsters'” formula of goofy sight gags and wacky physical comedy can only go so far. Expecting this set-up to support a feature length run time, when “The Munsters” is better suited to half-hour chunks, strains things. “Munster, Go Home!” isn't quite as funny as the average episode of the show. Yet these characters are so lovable, and the actors playing them so charming, that I can't help but have some fondness for the film. By the way, John Carradine appears here but as a different character than Mr. Gateman. They at least give him some muttonchops, to make the differences more apparent. A minor line of dialogue does clear up why a German Frankenstein has relatives in England too, as if that kind of consistency has ever mattered. [6/10]

Alfred Hitchcock Presents (1986): Man on the Edge

While the 1986 version of “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” was destined to always be in the shadow of the original, it did manage to attract some notable stars. “Man on the Edge,” the third episode of the revival's second season, stars two greats: Mark Hamill and Michael Ironside. Hamill is Danny, an unsuccessful man whose wife left him after meeting a mysterious stranger named Rick. Sometime after that, she died of an apparent suicide. Danny climbs onto the ledge outside a high-rise hotel room, seemingly preparing to throw himself off. Police psychologist Lt. Muldoon – Ironside, naturally – appears to talk Danny back down. Yet it soon becomes apparent that both men have secrets of their own.

There are two big weaknesses to “Man on the Edge.” First off, its twist ending is not that hard to predict. Once Danny's backstory is fully revealed, you can guess easily where this is all going. Secondly, any time the episode cuts away from its central set-up – a man apparently on the edge of suicide and the cop trying to talk him out of it – it falters. There's a tension to this life-and-death premise that is lost every time we go into a flashback, showing the same character in more mundane situations. Honestly, both of these issues could've been avoided if “Man on the Edge” stayed in the present, focusing on the suspenseful question of whether Danny will throw himself off and if Muldoon can get him to reconsider. Those flashbacks are fairly awkward too, so an alternative probably wouldn't have been any less wonky.

Having said all that, “Man on the Edge” is predictably saved by some strong performances. Mark Hamill is well-cast here. The former Luke Skywalker has a certain everyman quality to him, making the audience immediately root for him as he faces one set-back after another. Yet Hamill, well on his way to playing iconic villains at this point, is also good at projecting a certain instability. This also suits a character whose mental stability is in question. Michael Ironside has the stern voice of authority you associate with a cop. While he usually plays bad guys and hard-asses, he actually does well as an empathetic fellow trying to help a stranger. Seeing these two play off each other is definitely the main joy of this half-hour, even if you see the twist coming from a mile away. Or, rather, from thirty feet up. Also, I like the train themed host segments of a colorized Hitch. [7/10]

Invocation of My Demon Brother (1969)

Legendary underground filmmaker and cult icon Kenneth Anger – who passed away earlier this year – would first come to fame for his homoeroticism themed short films, “Fireworks” and “Scorpio Rising.” These works would naturally be highly controversial in the forties and fifties, with Anger being subjected to at least one obscenity lawsuit. After living in France for a time, and writing notorious gossip compilation “Hollywood Babylon,” he would return to America and befriend numerous countercultural figures. This would include Mick Jagger and Anton LaVey, who would inspire another key short film of his. “Invocation of My Demon Brother” captures a Satanic ritual on-film while Jagger noodling on a Moog synthesizer provides the soundtrack. 

One of the sights among the swirling collage of images that makes up “Invocation” is several people smoking hashish out of a skull. Drugs were undoubtedly a factor in the short film's conception. It's probably meant to be watched while high yourself. That would certainly make the highly repetitive – and, let's be honest, annoying – soundtrack more tolerable. If you can tolerate the high-pitch droning and crashing noises, I think Anger's film is somewhat successful in its goals. Namely, to place the viewer under the same sort of trance they would experience during an occult ritual. As you watch an ostentatiously dressed priest go about a theatrical presentation – along side dizzying shots of faces and various practices, including some light naked wrestling between guys – you do feel yourself lulled into an altered state-of-mind.  

No doubt, there's something mildly creepy about that too. It's hard to take Anton LeVay and his hedonistic cronies seriously these days, especially now that the strictly atheistic roots of his “church” are better understood. Yet some of the images here are kind of weird. Such as a procession of folks, dressed in red and white hoods, marching down a staircase. Or a deranged face peering out at us among the kaleidoscopic montages. I don't even know if “Invocation of My Demon Brother” is meant to be taken too seriously. It ends with a burnt skull flashing on-screen, informing us that everyone watching this is now pregnant. “That's witchcraft,” it reads, doubtlessly sarcastically. Yet it does give you an idea of what was in the water – and what people were smoking – during the occult scene of the time. Even if muting it and putting on a Coven record is probably a more ideal way to experience this. [6/10]

Halloween 2023: October 13th

The Exorcist: Believer (2023)

There hasn't been an “Exorcist” movie since 2005 and there hasn't been an especially successful “Exorcist” movie since 1973. Yet, with the fiftieth anniversary looming, it's not surprising that someone would decide to revive the possession saga. The path forward with this new iteration has been especially obvious. Universal paid big bucks to acquire the franchise rights. They partnered with Blumhouse and David Gordon Green was immediately given the reins to the series, coming right off the success of his “Halloween” trilogy. In fact, it really seemed like the idea was to do something very similar here, including inviting back a face from the original film for a new story.  No word on whether “The Exorcist: Believer” disregards the events of “Exorcist II: The Heretic” or “Exorcist III.” The legacy sequel opened to middling reviews earlier this month but that wasn't going to stop me from seeing it. 

In Haiti, photographer Victor Fielding and his pregnant wife are caught in an earthquake. She dies in childbirth but the baby lives. 13 years later, Angela is now a precocious teenager, eager to learn more about her late mother. She sneaks off with her best friend, Katherine, one night to go into the forest and perform a séance. The two girls then vanish, panicking their parents. Three days later, they are found, with no memory of their disappearance and burned feet. Soon, the girls begin to act strangely, their behavior escalating to disturbing heights. Katherine's highly religious family are convinced their daughter is possessed. Victor, an atheist, is skeptical. Yet reading a book written by Chris McNeil, about her daughter being possessed and the subsequent exorcism, convinces him to track McNeil down and ask for her help. Soon, a group of leaders from different faiths are brought in to save Angela and Katherine's souls from the grip of evil. 

For whatever it's worth, “The Exorcist: Believer” has a decent first act. The opening in Haiti blatantly recalls the original Iraq-set prologue. Once that passes, the film is allowed to do its own thing for a while. Victor and Angela's relationship is nicely established. He loves her daughter, she's close to her dad. The death of their mother still looms over them both, Angela doing what she can to reconnect with a topic her father is clearly still processing. “Believer” doesn't pile on the jump scares or cheap shocks too much in its first forty minutes, taking time to establish Victor as a conflicted protagonist. Once the girls disappear, and the different parents are tossed together in a panicked search, I was actually kind of feeling this one. I was genuinely intrigued to see where it might be going.

Where it was going, perhaps inevitably, is a fairly pale imitation of the original. Unlike some people, I have nothing against David Gordon Green. I was one of the few folks who loved “Halloween Ends.” Yet the simple truth is he's not as good of a director as the late, great William Friedkin. I mean, how many people are? So many of Friedkin's films have a genuine unhinged quality to them, a sense of real danger, that Green was never going to capture. This becomes abundantly clear once “Believer” starts going for scares. Most of the possessed girl business in this sequel are uninspired rehashes. The girls gain scarred up bodies and faces. They swear inappropriately, bleeding from various orifices, while demon faces will flash on-screen briefly. Once the actual exorcism begins in the last third, there really isn't anything too exciting happening. At least the sequel holds off on the levitation and projectile vomiting as long as possible. The same can't be said for the prominent use of a silver crucifix, which is easily “Believer's” most stilted and embarrassing moment. 

Yet a lack of fresh scares is not even the biggest problem with “Believer.” The truth is the sequel simply doesn't have the complexity of the original. “The Exorcist” is a movie about faith really being tested. It's about the question of good and evil, how it resides in us, and whether anything can be done to challenge it. Notably, the exorcism in the original doesn't actually work and a noble man making a sacrifice is what actually makes a difference. Even then, there is a question of ambiguity in the air, of what driving the devil out of this girl has actually cost. “Believer,” meanwhile, goes with a much simpler message about religious solidarity. Katherine's parents are Southern Baptists. The nurse, who was almost a nun, that assist Victor is Catholic and gets a priest involved. His next door neighbor is Pentecostal, while a local hoodoo practitioner is the main driving force during the exorcism. A rather loaded monologue points out that, though all these faiths are different, they all believe in the power of good, that people can make a difference.

Honestly, I don't think this is an especially compelling angle. “The Exorcist” reflected the crisis of faith in the early seventies, when traditional religion was playing less of an important role in a modern, more cynical world. 2023 is a totally different time, when mass religion has been commercialized by prosperity doctrine shit-heads and weaponized by the right-wing outrage machine in a way that's certainly not new but definitely seriously insidious. How are we suppose to take a film with a heroic Catholic priest seriously in a world were the church's dirtiest secret is public knowledge? If the film is so concerned with a multicultural angle, why are all its represented religious faiths Christian denominations? Why wasn't a Rabbi or Muslim imam consulted? An ultimately feel-good message about how what unites us is stronger than what divides us, and that faith is essential across all belief systems, seems like a limp reflection of what “The Exorcist” is actually about.

Then again, it's not like an “Exorcist” sequel being disappointing or failing to live up to the original is anything new. It's actually standard practice for this franchise. At least “Believer” has a decent cast. Leslie Odom Jr. clearly invested some emotional depth as Victor. Lidya Jewell and Olivia O'Neill are convincing as peppy teenage girls, even if their demonic contortions feel uninspired. It's nice to see Ann Dowd as the attending nurse. Really, the only cast member who truly phones it in is the most hyped one. Ellen Burstyn doesn't seem especially interested to be here. She gets some of the sequel's most awkward, ungainly dialogue. Considering Chris McNeil repeatedly says she's not an exorcist, before attempting to perform an exorcism, you kind of have to wonder why she's in this story at all. 

But the answer to that question is obvious. “Believer” wouldn't be a real legacy sequel if it didn't have someone from the original film in the cast. The most obvious surviving cast member from the original is saved for the last-minute cameo, plot points floating around her clearly being reserved for a perspective sequel. (Which may or may not come to pass, now that this one opened softly.) “Believer” isn't terrible, like many have reported. It certainly doesn't hit the low point of “The Beginning.” Yet it is, at worst, unambitious and lacking in complexity. Say what you will about “The Heretic,” at least it had a lot of ideas on its mind. I'm sure William Friedkin would've hated it but I don't think the sequel deserves that much scorn. It's not that interesting. “Believer” ultimately plays things too safe, recycling old scares and refusing to engage with its ideas in any real way. [5/10] 

13 Frightened Girls (1963)

In Joe Dante's frequently overlooked gem “Matinee,” there's a scene where Lawrence Woolsey – a stand-in for king of gimmick horror, William Castle – is mistaken for Alfred Hitchcock. This, no doubt, references Castle's evident desire to be the American answer to Hitchcock. “Homicidal” was clearly inspired by “Psycho,” “Strait Jacket” featured a script from “Psycho” scribe Robert Bloch, and “I Saw What You Did” turned the famous shower scene on its head. Another attempt by Castle to emulate Hitch was 1963's “13 Frightened Girls,” which obviously drew inspiration from the Master of Suspense's many espionage thrillers. It's kind of like if “The 39 Steps” starred a bunch of teenage girls. And the film is just macabre enough to sneak into a horror marathon...

“13 Frightened Girls” is set at an exclusive school for diplomat's daughters, girls from all over the world gathered together in this one place. One such teenager is Candice Hull. Nicknamed Candy, she harbors an unrequited crush on Wally Sanders, a CIA agent and a friend of her father's. Wally is not an especially successful spy and is potentially facing termination from his job. Candy takes it upon herself to save Wally's employment. She begins to spy on the fathers and uncles of her classmates, mailing the tips to Wally under the code name “Kitten.” She soon uncovers a deadly Red China communist plot and earns the wrath of a master spy known only as “Spider.” Spider is the one who kidnaps Candy and twelve of her classmates.

Much like the original “Star Trek,” “13 Frightened Girls” represents one of those well-intentioned but somewhat misguided sixties attempts to showcase global diversity. On paper, the idea of a movie centering around characters from thirteen different countries is a great chance to showcase other cultures. Yet the film doesn't give much screen time to the majority of these girls. When they do, they are depicted more-or-less as stereotypes. The Russian girl is loudly proud of her Soviet strength. The Argentinean girl is a fiery Latina. The French girl is haughty. The Japanese girl is accompanied by a distinctive musical motif. You can guess the one. I suppose having Mai-Ling the Chinese girl, played by Lynne Sue Moon, be Candy's best friend was pretty bold in 1963. (She wears a qipao, of course.) Yet that's negated somewhat by Chinese agents being the main antagonists of the film. 

Ultimately, most of the thirteen girls mentioned in the title aren't developed much beyond their accents. The majority of them are only identified by their countries of origin. Instead, “13 Frightened Girls” is mostly focused on Candy, her attempts to win Wally's approval, and her missions in the world of espionage. The latter is portrayed in a largely episodic fashion, such as in a mostly disconnected sequence where she brushes up to a Dutch diplomat. The former, meanwhile, is quite uncomfortable. Wally, played with a weaselly Murray Hamilton, has an age-appropriate love interest and shows no romantic interest in the teenage girl. Yet it is a little weird that a movie about a sixteen year old girl so obsessed with an adult man, to the point that she risks her own life to prove her love, doesn't make it clear that this is a hopeless infatuation for her. 

You might be reading this review and asking why am I discussing this film for a Halloween marathon. None of this sounds like a horror movie, right? “13 Frightened Girls'” marketing played up the spider connection and the girls in peril, probably because William Castle's earlier hits were horror. Yet the actual movie is on the marginal side of the genre. The opening sequence features a fun shock, of a tarantula crawling over a bus windshield. As Candy explores the mansion of Mai-Ling's family, she sneaks through a cobweb-strewn secret passageway. She discovers a dead body hanging over her head and there's a few more corpses later on in the film. Castle's film does generate a little bit of tension, largely because Kathy Dunn makes Candy a likable heroine that runs into danger throughout the story. Yet the tone largely remains light-hearted, often causing “13 Frightened Girls” to feel a little like the Disney version of a Hitchcock thriller. 

Being a William Castle film, “13 Frightened Girls” was accompanied by a gimmick. In this case, an amusing publicity stunt: A casting call was announced to locate the thirteen titular girls from each of their corresponding countries. Maybe not as memorable as skeletons flying through the theater or joy-buzzers in the theater seats but a neat idea. And one that was ultimately not fulfilled, as the Liberian girl was played by an American actress. Anyway, “13 Frightened Girls” mildly entertains during its brief runtime. A montage of “Kitten's” letters, set to images of a little white kitty walking around a globe, made me chuckle. Yet it definitely ranks among the more minor of Castle's films. [6/10]

Amazing Stories: Remote Control Man

“Amazing Stories” was an attempt by Steven Spielberg to bring theatrical quality to network TV. Many episodes were directed by noteworthy filmmakers. Spielberg himself made two. Other notable names include Scorsese, Dante, Zemecksis, Eastwood, and even Burt Reynolds. I don't know if Bob Clark was ever as respected as those guys but he's a cult favorite in his own right. Clark would direct the tenth episode of the series, “Remote Control Man.” It follows Walter Poindexter, an accountant with a hateful wife and two garbage sons. His sole escape is television. After his wife sells the TV, he is pressured by otherworldly salesmen into purchasing a high-tech new set. He soon discovers that he can replace the people in his mundane life with characters from his favorite programs. Yet this dream scenario soon turns into a nightmare.

Despite its high production values and talented directors, “Amazing Stories” veered towards whimsy too often. Unfortunately, “Remote Control Man” resembles Bob Clark's comedies far more than “Black Christmas.” From its opening minutes, a tone of shrill humor is established. Sydney Lassick – a character actor who had a great career but I probably most recognize as the loud-mouthed sheriff from “Silent Madness” – plays Walter as a sweaty loser. His wife immediately screams at him. His youngest son tries to grind his dad's hand off in the garbage disposal. His oldest son is a Hare Krishna, that frequent target of scorn in low-brow eighties comedies. Walter has to contend with a group of rabid dogs every time he steps out the door, even creating an elaborate dummy to fool them. Most obnoxiously, nobody ever takes his side. Even a random old woman on the street is mean to him. The universe exists to shit on this guy.

All of this is before “Remote Control Man's” main gimmick comes into play. That would be Walter transporting well-known TV personalities into his living room. This makes “Remote Control Man” a delivery system for then-relevant pop culture references. That means Gary Coleman, June Cleaver, and Dirk Benedict as Face all have prominent roles. Before the end, Richard Simmons, Ed McMahon, Jim Lange, LaWanda Page, K.I.T.T., and the Incredible Hulk (played by Body by Jake, not Lou Ferrigno) also show up. The significance of any of these characters is not established, the program assuming the audience must be familiar with them. I guess the makers of “Remote Control Man” didn't anticipate anyone watching it forty years later. I bet most of the jokes here would play as total non-sequiturs to a zoomer.

The humor is largely obnoxious, heavy on the screaming and physical battering. It's all so cartoonish, reflecting a truly hateful perception of people and the world. Of course, Walter gets to sleep with a empty-headed supermodel too, presenting this whole thing as a very ugly fantasy. Shit like this reminds me that Bob Clark also made the “Porky's” movies and “Baby Geniuses.” The story wraps up with an obvious twist ending and a moral – appreciate those you have and don't watch so much TV! – that is completely unearned. Especially considering that Walter's family is genuinely awful. Among the many cameos are also Professor Toru Tanaka and Sid Haig, though they aren't playing any famous characters. This is definitely an example of a story that's far from amazing... [4/10]

The Munsters: Herman's Lawsuit / A Visit from the Teacher

“The Munsters” remained popular throughout its second season but rating took a nose-dive after “Batman” debuted opposite the show. You'd never know the end was neigh from the last two episodes though. “Herman's Lawsuit” and “A Visit from the Teacher” are typical installments. While out on a walk, Herman crosses a street and is struck by a car. Naturally, the car is much worse for wear than he is afterwards. The woman's lawyer talks him into suing the family for repairs. This sends Herman into a panic, causing him to run away from home. “A Visit from the Teacher” has Eddie writing about his family for a school project. His teachers naturally assume that the boy's claims are wild fantasies, prompting a visit to 1313 Mockingbird Lane from the faculty. Of course, they are in for a surprise.

“Herman's Lawsuit” is one of those episodes of “The Munsters” that starts in one place before digressing into an even wilder place. By the end, we are greeted to a montage of Herman working all sorts of odd jobs. Such as a dock worker, a target in a carnival game, and seemingly joining the Foreign Legion. Which sets up an even stranger reveal at the end. This provides the kind of seriously wacky sight gags you expect from this series. Some more subtle jokes about Herman's other jobs – such as his stay at a morgue – made me laugh harder though. The interaction between Herman and the car wreck is probably most notable for the way Fred Gwynne's hair piece flops of his head as he falls down. There's also a surprisingly dark gag where the raven in the family clock tries to help the dad shoot himself.

“A Visit from the Teacher” is naturally built around normal people reacting to the Munsters' macabre appearances. At least it goes about it in a more restrained way than you'd expect. The principal and Eddie's teacher are slowly given a taste of the family, Herman's face even being kept in the dark thanks to a freak black-out. It's a better approach than going right to the exaggerated screaming and fleeing that we usually get. Most of the wackier gags come from Grandpa's attempts to generate electricity, causing the household appliances to go nuts. The final joke of the episode – and, in turn, the entire series – sees Herman sitting down to eat his breakfast as Grandpa causes water to explode from all the house's pipes. Certainly an inauspicious but representative way for the show to go out. [Herman's Lawsuit: 6/10 / A Visit from the Teacher: 6/10]

Even though “The Munsters” would only run for two seasons, its cultural legacy is greater than that implies. It says a lot that this two season show was still running in syndication thirty years later, when I saw it as a kid. There have been multiple attempts to revive it over the years: A reunion special, a late eighties revival that actually ran for three episodes longer than the original, two TV movies in the nineties. I thought Bryan Fuller's one-and-done pilot had a lot of potential. That Universal allowed Rob Zombie to make his glorified fan film last year suggests the “Munsters” brand still has some life in it, nearly sixty years after the fact. I gotta say, I enjoyed watching my way through this cheesy old sitcom. “The Munsters” remains a comfy, goofy program for this overgrown monster kid. I guess I've got to start watching “The Addams Family” next year?

Halloween 2023: October 12th

Nekromantik (1988)

In the world of disturbing paraphilias, necrophilia certainly ranks among the most taboo. Aside from the unlikeliness that the deceased would consent if alive, there’s the unavoidable matter that being sexually intimate with a rotting corpse is excessively gross to most people. Just the smell of decaying flesh is enough to send many fleeing. The idea of someone diving in crotch-first is especially depraved. Yet there’s a strange romance to the act, to the thought of love — or at least desire — extending into the grave. This contradiction has been inspiring artists and writers for eons, sometimes to poetic ends and sometimes to merely shocking ones. In the latter column resides “Nekromantik,” a notorious German gross-out fest that has been testing horror fans’ tolerance of “Can you believe this shit?” outrageousness for thirty-five years now. Unsurprisingly, this has made it a cult favorite among adventurous gore hounds. I’ve never seen the movie before so let’s, uh, dig this one up. 

Rob works for a street cleaning company, which frequently removes dead bodies and other gore from the sight of tragic accidents. This morbid profession also allows an easy path for Rob to indulge his favorite hobby. That would be a sexual passion for corpses. His girlfriend, Betty, shares this necrophilic desire. She’s especially enthusiastic about the latest dead plaything Rob has dragged home. Yet when Rob is fired from his job, Betty leaves with the rotting cadaver. This causes the titular Nekromantik to spiral even further into madness. 

“Nekromantik’s” very first scene is of an old woman pulling down her panties, squatting on the side of the road, and urinating. That should tell you everything you need to know about the film’s intentions. And it only gets groddier from there. To read director Jörg Buttgereit emerged from the punk rock scene, and mostly made this movie as a big fuck-you to West Germany's strict censorship laws, is unsurprising. The movie assaults the viewer with one gross event after another. Real footage of a rabbit being slaughtered occurs early on, proceeding simulated footage of a cat being killed later on. When not fucking corpses, Rob roots around inside their chest cavities during crude autopsies. Of course, the centerpiece of "Nekromantik" is a lengthy threesome between Rob, Betty, and a dead body. (With a sawed-off pipe standing in for the rotted away phallus.) The film is obviously an extended dare to the viewer, trying to see how much squishy depravity you can handle before it sends you fleeing or makes you puke. 

"Nekromantik's" status as an assault on good taste is also obvious in its presentation. Buttgereit shot the movie on Super-8, leading to a cramped aspect ratio and frequently shaky camerawork. The lighting and colors are washed out and grimy. The performances are unpolished, with Daktari Lorenz as Rob being especially stiff. As much as the movie seeks to shock its audience, the special effects are also rather crude. The corpses are obviously rubber and the entrails clearly belong to animals. No matter how grungy the film gets, the impression it made on me is one of comedy, not full-bore horror. "Nekromantik" placing the sexual foibles of the living alongside the placid dead means it's closer tonally to a Troma movie than endurance tests like "Cannibal Holocaust" or "Ichi the Killer." Only the actual death of a rabbit manages to be genuinely upsetting.

As much as Buttgereit was clearly fucking around by throwing as many bodily fluids into his movie as possible, "Nekromantik" contains inevitable grasps as pretensions. I suppose this is the German sensibility at work. The three-way with a corpse is presented as a frequently kaleidoscopic montage. Betty reads a love poem to the dead body, pondering on the nature of love, while Rob has a weird dream in the latter half. Moreover, Buttgereit seems to want to say something about the living's relationship with the dead. He cuts from an autopsy to a steak being cooked, as if to suggest we all become just meat eventually. Rob also watches a slasher movie late in the story, which deeply bores him, seemingly some sort of commentary on the state of the horror genre in 1988. It's clear that the filmmaker, despite his stated goal of simply pissing off the censors, had more on his mind here. 

Maybe Buttgereit's ambitions outstripped his budget. The only time "Nekromantik's" attempts to blend vomit-inducing gross-outs with more poetic ideas succeeds is the rather literal climax. As well as the piano-driven main theme, which manages to generate more emotional catharsis than anything in the screenplay. Despite its rickety budget and thin screenplay, there is a certain appeal to the homemade nastiness on-display here. I guess I'm too much of a perpetual horror punk — or a pretentious would-be creative type — not to relate to where Buttgereit is coming from. "Nekromantik" is crude as can be and is absolutely gross while also falling short of how shocking it wants to be. Yet I'm not surprised it developed a cult following among strong-stomached horror fans. There is a certain something to this corpse-fucking saga, despite its obvious limitations. [6/10]

Creature from the Haunted Sea (1961)

I've been talking a little bit about Filmgroup, the company Roger Corman created with his brother Gene before rejoining A.I.P. Yet I haven't yet covered any of the films Corman himself directed for his own company. Such as “Creature from the Haunted Sea.” Like almost all of Filmgroup's productions, was also not copyrighted and fell into the public domain immediately. This means the movie's central visual – a ridiculous, mossy monster crawling out of the sea to abduct a pretty blonde – can be used by anyone, royalty-free. And it has, in the opening of “Malcolm in the Middle” and episodes of “Muppet Babies.” It seems anytime someone wants to use some footage of a ridiculous monster, from some old horror flick, this is the one they go with. But what about the movie itself? Is it as laughable as that one clip makes it seem?

An American secret agent, code-named XK150, infiltrates a gang of crooks planning to steal a horde of gold, being smuggled out of Castro's Cuba by a group of Cuban loyalist. The scheme, led by an on-the-run gambler named Capetto, involves locating the gold, killing the Cubans, and blaming the murders on a legendary sea monster said to roam the area. Capetto and his incredibly eccentric team will provide the monster themselves, of course. As the boat travels further into the ocean, the men get attached to some local girls while XK150 develops a crush on Capetto's moll. The scheme is interrupted when a real monster emerges from the deep and begins attacking people.

At this point in his career, Roger Corman had already directed over twenty movies, including several low-budget monster and sci-fi movies. This was right before he began making the Poe Cycle for AIP, and around the same time he made “Bucket of Blood” and “Little Shop of Horrors.” All of this suggests that Roger was getting a little bored of the traditional creature feature formula by this point. In other words: He started to fuck around. This is readily apparent in “Creature from the Haunted Sea,” which is a full-blown farce. The movie is full of oddball jokes, like the hero calling back to Washington on a pay phone, while a random guy impatiently waits to use it next. Or the film's main eye candy warbling a tuneless theme song before being told to abruptly stop singing. If you didn't know what you were getting into, the film makes its comical intentions clear early on. The opening credits play against some goofy cartoons.

Another element of “Creature from the Haunted Sea” that is blatantly absurd is its cast of bizarre characters. As far as heroic spies go, XK150 is largely incompetent. His deadpan voiceover describes each characters' history and quirks in extensive terms. He builds up his own mythology in his head, while the film shows him as usually unsuccessful. Such as his attempts to seduce Mary-Belle, which are rebuffed every time. Yet the spy is far from the film's only weird character. Among the crew is a guy who mostly communicates in animal noises, Mary-Belle's brother who has a disorder that makes him constantly smile, and a Cuban general that only speaks Spanish. As the movie progresses, more bizarre characters – including a local island girl, who only cares about selling stuff to tourist – appear.

The goofy gags and oddball characters are certainly memorable. Yet “Creature from the Haunted Sea” is still undeniably a thrown together affair. Its plot is often hard to follow, with far too large a cast to keep track of and a story that meanders around without much focus. Despite the central scheme being relatively straight-forward, the film still seems to approach it in far from a straight line. The ridiculously looking monster – supposedly assembled for all of 150 dollars – also isn't in nearly enough of the movie. Truthfully, the creature lurks on the edge of the film for most of its run time, before finally doing something in the final minutes. That means the off-beat characters and digressing plot occupy most of the run time. That's not as much fun as a ping-pong ball eyed sea monster.

Apparently, “Creature from the Haunted Sea” was exactly as slapdash a production as it seems to be. Corman was in Puerto Rico to film “Last Woman on Earth” and, ever the overachiever, decided to shoot an entirely separate movie with the left-over film. He had Charles B. Griffith cook up a script in six days, the writer largely recycling the premise of “Beast from the Haunted Cave.” Supposedly, he intentionally made the story and characters weird to frustrate Corman. While similar conditions which result in classics like “A Bucket of Blood” and “Little Shop,” “Creature from the Haunted Sea” is a little too preoccupied with its own flippancy without giving the audience enough of what we expect. [6/10]

The Twilight Zone (1985): Something in the Walls

The eighties iteration of “The Twilight Zone” doesn't seem to have made as much of an impact on pop culture as the original. Yet I can recall cousins of mine discussing an episode that frightened them as boys once. That would be “Something in the Walls,” from the show's third season. It follows Dr. Mallory, a new addition to a psychiatric hospital. He quickly becomes enamored with Sharon, the facility's most baffling patient. Appearing perfectly calm, Sharon refuses to have any patterns on her room's wall paper or in her clothes. She believes that faces can be seen in patterns and that these '”faces” belong to malevolent entities from another dimension, attempting to push their way into our world. Mallory dismisses these fears are plain old pareidolia and delusions. Yet, the more he studies Mallory's case, the more he finds himself looking at patterns on the wall with curiosity. 

I can see why “Something in the Walls” made an impression on my cousins when they were young. It features a corker of a sequence about halfway through. While describing how she came to hold this apparent delusion, Sharon explains the first night she saw something in the walls. Set in a dark room with a flashing thunderstorm outside, she slowly sees a set of faces emerge through the walls. This is accomplished via the reliably freaky special effects of faces stretching through pliable latex, as seen in “A Nightmare on Elm Street” or that creepy U.N. Peacekeepers commercial. Director Alan Kroeker, who has worked almost exclusively in television, brings a lot of nightmarish intensity to this scene.  I can see this moment easily traumatizing an unprepared kid.

Ultimately, “Something in the Walls'” premise does pretty much all the heavy lifting here. It's a creepy enough idea, that the faces we imagine in meaningless patterns might actually be alive. Deborah Raffin and Damir Andrei are totally serviceable in the lead roles. Yet very little time is given to develop these two into characters with any depth. The episode is basically a delivery system for that scary-ass middle scene and a downbeat ending. While it certainly lacks the social commentary of the best classic episodes of "Zone," “Something in the Walls” is still pretty freaky for an episode of eighties television. Sometimes that is enough. [7/10]

The Munsters: A House Divided / Herman's Sorority Caper

Big physical gags rule the day in these two episodes of “The Munsters.” “A House Divided” begins with Herman and Grandpa making a go-cart for Eddie's birthday. When Herman crashes the little car, an argument builds between grandfather and son-in-law. They paint a line halfway through the house, literally dividing it in two, frustrating Marilyn and Lily to no end. “Herman's Sorority Caper” has the Munster patriarch developing a supersized case of hiccups. Grandpa hypnotizing him into catatonia as part of curing the condition. That's when a college fraternity decides spending a night in the Munsters' house – which they mistakenly assume is abandoned – is the ideal frat initiation. The kids grab Herman and stick him in the rival sorority's house.

“A House Divided” builds upon on of this show's best attributes. That would be the chemistry between Fred Gwynne and Al Lewis. They spent almost the entire episode bickering about the pettiest shit imaginable. This involves cutting objects in half, fighting over the TV, and even splitting Spot up between them. This makes for some solid gags, such as when Herman cuts the phone cord just as Grandpa is talking to someone. Lily and Marilyn's increasingly perturbed reaction to this rivalry also make for some healthy chuckles. I guess the women in old sitcoms just naturally become the straight men, in comparison to the buffoonish men. There's also an extended sequence of Herman Munster driving around in a go-cart, clearly a precursor to cinematic masterpiece “Leprechaun.”

“Herman's Sorority Caper” is essentially devoted to two types of gags. That would be Herman and Grandpa's oversized reaction to simple problems. Such as his over-the-top hiccups or the extremely goofy hypnotism sequence. The rest of the episode is devoted to contrasting the Munsters with the college kids. The boys dismissing each freaky sight they see in the house isn't the funniest. However, Herman's panic upon awakening in a sorority house is better. That plays off the character's sweet nature, as he doesn't actually want to be caught lurking around a bunch of teenage girls, and goes to ridiculous heights to prevent detection. As always, Gwynne's likable goof-ball antics and Lewis' sarcasm help patch over a gimmicky script. Which is most apparent in the wackiness Grandpa gets up to at the end. Once again, we see that Grandpa has a reflection, proving that this show is not really committed to the whole vampire idea. [A House Divided: 7/10 / Herman's Sorority Caper: 7/10]

Halloween 2023: October 11th

Beau is Afraid (2023)

Whether Ari Aster is a genius or an overrated hack seems to be a matter of opinion. His films produce intense reactions in people, which makes sense. His work deals with heightened emotions and extreme scenarios. “Hereditary” went to the peaks of hysterical mourning while “Midsommar” slung us into the despair of a gaslighting relationship. This past spring, Aster unleashed his third and most divisive feature yet. “Beau Is Afraid” would delve even further into deeply Freudian themes. When combined with a rambling story and a three-hour run time, the film did nothing to deter those who consider Aster a self-indulgent, pretentious fraud who sniggers as he plays another elaborate prank on audiences. Yet a select group of weirdos would embrace this one-of-a-kind incursion into neuroses and psychological hang-ups, among which I can't help but consider myself. 

Beau is afraid of everything. He lives in a dilapidated building, the streets outside full of violent crime and the mentally ill. Yet his mother, billionaire industrialist Mona Wasserman, seems to be what he's most afraid of. After the key to his apartment is stolen, he misses a flight to see his mom. This sets off a catastrophic chain of events that ends with Beau, stark nude, running through the streets and getting struck by a van. From the home of the strange, overly possessive couple that tries to help him recover, Beau sets off on a journey back to his mother's house. Along the way, he will discover the horrifying secrets of his origins, be reunited with a lost love, and be put on trial for all crimes real and imagined.

In the run-up to “Beau Is Afraid's” release, Ari Aster – as part of an increasingly sarcastic press tour – said he wanted the movie to give the viewer the firsthand experience of being a loser. The film is thoroughly committed to this goal, of putting us inside Beau Wasserman's head. The world of “Beau Is Afraid” totally reflects the terrified, anxiety-ridden mindset of its protagonist. That's why the city he lives in is so apocalyptically crime-ridden. This is why his apartment building is infested with brown recluse spiders, why seemingly everything that can go wrong with a day's activity does. Beau has to sprint to his door to avoid being attacked by wildly tattooed vagrants, is hassled by a store owner for literally being a few cents short of a purchase, and is attacked by a knife-wielding psychopath in broad daylight. If you have the kind of anxious imagination that forced you to constantly predict horrible things will happen, the doom-laden absurdity of "Beau Is Afraid" will feel very familiar. He can't sleep at night because a crazy neighbor is sliding notes under his door about an imagined offense. He can't ever relax because blood-thirsty lunatics roam the streets and death is always at his doorstep. If it wasn't already clear that this nightmarish setting represents Beau's deeply neurotic point-of-view, Aster's camera directly looks out from Beau's eye-sockets a handful of times.

There's no debate about the source of Beau's anxiety-gripped mindset. “Beau Is Afraid” is a movie of titanic mommy issues. The more of the film we watch, the clearer it becomes that Mona Wasserman controls every aspect of Beau's life, right down to the food he eats. An extraordinary sequence – set to Bread's "Everything I Own," the latest example of Aster ironically using seventies soft-rock standards – shows that Mona devoted the entirety of her industrial empire to micromanaging her son's life. Reoccurring terms throughout "Beau Is Afraid" are "guilt" or "guilty." The final act, when Mona appears in the flesh, makes it clear that Aster means this primarily in the sense of the stereotypical guilting Jewish mother. Played with absolutely monstrous venom by Patti LuPone, Beau's mother emerges as the most vindictive and manipulative cinematic matriarch this side of Norma Bates. 

Aster doesn't just blowup Beau's mother hang-ups – and possibly his own??? – into a massive canvas of nightmarish comedy. Much like "Hereditary's" deeply neurotic brood, every family unit in this film is torn apart by compulsion and anxiety. The family our downtrodden hero stays with goes in the opposite direction of Beau's mother. Instead of needling their offspring for every decision he makes, Grace and Roger have deified their departed son. They even let his deeply traumatized war buddy stay with him, the source of some of this pitch-black comedy's darkest laughs. Yet it's clear that this obsessive shrine of devotion hides deeply ingrained issues of their own. Nathan Lane and Amy Ryan play the hosts as so outwardly generous, but so clearly tightly wound, that it's only a matter of time before one of them is revealed to be unhinged. Their kind facades cover inevitable paint drinking and sword swinging. That's the kind of arena all of "Beau Is Afraid" occupies: Smiling through an intensely awkward situation and laughing nervously because you're too uncomfortable to say what you're actually feeling. 

Beau's one respite, seemingly in his entire hellish life, was an extremely brief pre-teenage dalliance during a summer cruise. That's where he met Elaine, a rebellious young girl who is the opposite of Beau in many ways. While Beau is always utterly kowtowed by his mother, Elaine frequently snipes back at her's. While Beau is never less than frightened of the world around him, Elaine is fearless and even poses for a casual photo with a dead body. The two never do anything more than kiss but it's enough to hand Beau a torch he carries for the rest of his life. When they reunite, thirty years later, it seems like Beau is finally getting the taste of freedom he's always been denied... Of course, this isn't that kind of movie. Soon, the nightmare resumes and we discover that his mother's control even extends into his sex life. As a child, Beau was told that he has a hereditary heart murmur, which led to his father's death upon orgasm. Yes, he's spent his entire life without ever busting a nut, which Aster turns into a sick visual joke more than once. While Aster stops just short of digging totally into the Oedipal undercurrents of Beau's incredibly toxic relationship with his mother – I guess the director got all of that out of his system with "The Strange Thing About the Johnsons” – it's clear that Mona's psychic thumb-screws have a tight squeeze on her son's massive, distended testicles. 

It's clear why Beau has hung onto his memory of Elaine so tightly. It's the only time in his life he's ever done something his mother didn't tell him to do. Even then, the kiss was Elaine's idea. For those who dislike the film, part of that surely comes from Beau's utterly passive nature. It breaks the rule that usually governs screenwriting, that your protagonist must drive the story. Instead, everything happens to Beau. A key scene early on has him on the phone with his mother, explaining that he won't be able to make the flight, the camera tight on Joaquin Phoenix's face as he repeatedly asks his mother for an order. Even the movie's deepest dives into Beau's memories and psyche – an extensive flashback to his adolescence and a highly symbolic stage show – are prompted by other people. (Namely, a teenager forcing him to smoke a joint and a weird, cult-like group of traveling performers.) The element of water reappears throughout "Beau Is Afraid," usually whenever disaster is about to strike. It represents how our protagonist is set adrift in life, pushed around by natural forces totally beyond his control. Maybe Beau is so afraid precisely because he doesn't have any say in his own existence. Maybe that makes him a lot more like us than we'd prefer to admit it. 

As with his first two features and his short films, "Beau Is Afraid" is also a display for Aster's distinctive eye as a filmmaker. Much like the little miniature scenarios in "Hereditary," every set and tableau here is precisely constructed. The coordinated filth of the vandalism in Beau's apartment building is stunning and hilarious. The stage play sequence has to rank among this year's most visually captivating digressions, moving Beau through a construction paper world of primary colors and bizarre sight gags. The same instincts are on display in Mona's home, absurdist jokes perfectly played in finely assembled sets. The cinematography, editing, and music show the same perfectionist streak. 

While "Beau Is Afraid" can't exactly be described as a horror movie, it frequently moves at the same frenzied, anxiety attack ferocity as "Hereditary's" scariest moments. Much like Aster's debut, "Beau Is Afraid" climaxes with an ascent into an attic. In both films, a horrible secret is hidden, which plays Beau – and the audience – as children stumbling into a boogeyman's abode. The last act appearance of a chained-up beast may actually top "Hereditary" in terms of sheer, what-the-fuck shock value, while also wrapping up all of the movie's Freudian ideas and repressed sexuality in a burst of urban legend-like nightmare imagery. The horror here is rooted more in existential dread, than grabbed-by-the-throat scares. Yet for one glorious moment, "Beau Is Afraid" becomes a brilliantly twisted monster movie. Before once again sinking into the watery depths of colossal motherly guilt, as Beau travels into a deeply yonic cavern and the movie ends like the sick joke it likely began as. 

Aster originally envisioned "Beau Is Afraid" as his debut feature, shoving in every insane idea he had likely out of the fear that he might never get to make another movie. The film is so deeply uncommercial and hostile to the average multiplex-goer's sensibilities that I can't imagine it getting made at all in a world where A24 didn't exist. But god bless that studio for flushing 35 million – only ten of which they made back – on this insane movie and sticking it on thousands of screen. I can only hope some unsuspecting audiences wandered into it and had their minds blown by Aster's display of virtuoso filmmaking and frankly unflattering psychological hang-ups. It's the stuff of cult movie legend is made of. [9/10]

Axe (1974)

Frederick R. Friedel endeavored to make a movie by the time he was 25, the same age Orson Welles shot “Citizen Kane.” Though he had no experience, he managed to talk producer J.G. Patterson into giving him some money to make a horror film. The result was “Lisa, Lisa,” an extremely low-budget affair shot on short ends in North Carolina over the course of just nine days. The film would play in rural drive-ins throughout the mid-seventies without making much of an impact. Eventually, sexploitation distributor Harry Novak would re-release the movie under the more salacious title “Axe.” Yet Friedel's film would languish in relative obscurity until its British VHS release was banned as a Video Nasty in 1984. This would give the little-seen film international notoriety, slowly transforming “Axe” into a minor cult classic over the years. 

Three criminals – the stern Steele, the unhinged Lomax, and the remorseful Billy – corner a man in a hotel room. They torture him to death and the man's partner leaps out the window to his death. Fleeing the police, and after tormenting a random gas station attendant, the three arrive at an isolated farm house. A strange teenage girl named Lisa lives there with her disabled grandfather, as his sole caretaker. The crooks impose on Lisa and stay in the house. After Lomax attempts to assault Lisa, she kills him with a straight razor. This begins to the girl's bloody vengeance against the men who try to manipulate her.

From it's opening minutes, “Axe” is scored to a droning music that shifts between vaguely melodic and ear-splittingly harsh. As the action shifts to the hotel room, an even more discordant jazz-like score kicks in. The dialogue, and even the sound effects, are repetitive in these early scenes. The camera work is shaky. While the characters are driving from one location to the next, the dialogue is so muffled that you can hardly understand it. Once the villains and the film arrives at the farm house, often heard but rarely seen television programs act as a Greek chorus of sorts. An asinine game show, a performance of “Swing Low Sweet Chariot,” and a horse race seem to vaguely comment on the story's events. When combined with the extremely stilted acting and emotionally disaffected characters, the result is a film that quickly lures the viewer into a hypnotic state. Yes, “Axe” is one of those low-budget exploitation films, made largely by amateurs, that feels like a broadcast from an alternate universe.

Which isn't to say that “Axe” isn't frequently narcoleptic. Running only a little over an hour, the film feels much longer. There are long stretches where it seems like barely anything happens. Almost all the characters are totally remote, acting more like the catatonic grandfather than any normal humans. The only emotions that seem to exist in “Lisa, Lisa's” universe is anger, lust, sadism, and muted resentment. Adding to this uncomfortable environment is the film's focus on slimy substances. Lisa cracks eggs and feeds the runny yolks to her grandfather. She decapitates a chicken, blood spilling on her hands, and later cleans the dishes in an absolutely filthy sink. There's a bloated tie stuck in the shower drain. The most harrowing sequence involves the gangster terrorizing a woman in a gas station, ending with them shattered ketchup on her face, which is easily mistaken at blood for first. “Axe” is just a film smeared with nasty fluids, repelling the audience often.

It is a film of immense emotional disturbance. After the men invade the house, Lisa attempts suicide for reasons that are never elaborated on. She seems totally detached from the world, numbed by years of taking care of her unresponsive grandfather. The crooks, meanwhile, are psychopaths who torture for fun, kill without remorse, and take whatever they want. This combines with a “Last House on the Left” inspired story full of sexual menace, the men often ordering Lisa around and commenting on her physical attractiveness. The only semi-normal characters in the film are Billy, who is frequently stunned by the callousness of those around him, and that poor girl in the gas station, who is humiliated and left anguished. When the bloodshed happens, it feels like an inevitable pay-off of the hateful, uncomfortable energy that radiates through the whole movie. 

As far as blood and gore goes, “Axe” is not that explicit. Despite the title – and especially despite the alternate title of “California Axe Massacre” – very little of the murders are performed with an axe. The sexual violence is largely kept off-screen, Lisa staying fully clothed. One assumes that the British censors objected more to the film's tone of immorality and misanthropy than its violence. From any sort of objective perspective, “Axe” is not a very good movie. It frequently borders tedious and features an irritating score. Its writing is often nondescript and the acting is somnolent. Even the cleaned-up Severin Blu-Ray is pretty dark and grainy at times. Yet the film does have a strange, entombing effect on the viewer. It's a genuine slice of American-made nastiness, ready for the grindhouse. There's something unsettling about the ambiance this one cultivates, intentionally or not. [6/10]  

The Ray Bradbury Theater: The Lake

Among Ray Bradbury's most heartbreaking stories is “The Lake.” It follows a man – named Harold in the original story, called Douglas in this adaptation – returning to his childhood home town, bringing his newly acquired wife with him. They come to the lake and the beach he spent many days as a child, building sandcastles. There, as a boy, he met a pretty little blonde girl named Tally. She would become the first love of his life. One autumn day, while trying to encourage the boy to swim, Tally slipped into the water and never returned. Now, many years later, he returns to the same spot... And finds someone waiting for him.

Bradbury is one of the masters of wistful nostalgia and that is keenly displayed in “The Lake.” The version made for “Ray Bradbury Theater,” which the man himself adapted, inevitably isn't as good as the story. It adds a fairly ungainly voiceover narration, which grinds the pace to a slow gait. The device of Tally trying to teach the boy how to swim is added, to expand on their relationship some more. This is a good idea, yet it lends the episode a fairly repetitive structure. Since “The Lake” is fairly short on the page, some expansion is necessary. Douglas' wife is interested in seeing all his old haunts, which gives his lack of speech when they get to the lake more meaning. Yet it does feel like extraneous additions to a simple story of young love, lost and never to be regained.

Still, despite its inferiority to Bradbury's original text, “The Lake” isn't a bad episode of “Theater.” Gordon Thomson is compelling as the lead, with a face that can express a lot with just a look. Pat Robins directs it well enough, adding a warm, summer-like glow to the flashback scenes. (Though this means the episode lacks the story's autumnal yearning.) Robins has mostly worked as a script supervisor in New Zealand, which is presumably why the setting seems to have been shifted to the Pacific ocean here. Yet there are images here that speak volume, such as the boy working on the sandcastle in the rain the day Tally disappears. Or the final moment, of the adult Douglas holding a lock of blonde hair to his cheek. After finishing “The Lake,” I had to sit down and re-read the story. The episode doesn't have the kind of impact that Bradbury's words do but it's a decent enough translation to the screen. If nothing else, it captures the rush of young love and the bitter-sweetness of its end that is so integral to the story. [7/10]

The Munsters: Eddie's Brother / Herman, the Tire Kicker

“Eddie's Brother” has Eddie coming to his parents with a shocking request: He wants a little brother to play with. Herman can't convince Lily to have another child, so Grandpa thinks up another solution. He builds a robotic son named Boris. Yet this backfires when Eddie gets jealous of his new “sibling.” “Herman, the Tire Kicker” begins when the family notices how Marilyn has to leave early every morning to catch the bus. Herman endeavors to buy her a car. Unfortunately, he gets taken advantage of by a slick used car salesman. Things get worst when it turns out the car is stolen, the police assuming Herman is the thief. 

“Eddie's Brother” features some comedic high-lights and low points of “The Munsters'” second season. Herman brings down his old baby toys to get Lily in the child-rearing mode. This leads to an unfortunate sequence of Herman wearing a baby bonnet and babbling like an infant. It's immediately followed by a pretty sharp sequence of Lily asking her husband to do math. Overall, “Eddie's Brother” is a typically silly episode with a sweet enough conclusion. Eddie getting jealous of Boris provides a tiny bit of heart, while the scene of the robot attempting to run away is corny and absurd. (I mean that as a compliment.) Naturally, since this is an old sitcom, Boris would never appear again... Though at least the writers took the time to write him out first. Spot gets an amusing gag, though another scene implies that the Munsters sometimes eat dragons too. 

Poor Marilyn Munster. If a guy isn't running out on her because her family is too freaky, then the car that's been bought for turns out to be a lemon. How much of a lemon? It falls to piece the minute Herman starts it back up. “Herman, the Tire-Kicker” is probably most notable for featuring Frank Gorshin as the crooked used car salesman, though he's in more of his slick con artist mode than his manic Riddler mode. When the episode is focused on Grandpa being bitchy to Herman as they drive around, while things get a little less interesting when Herman is dragged off to jail. The episode is a little heavy on sped-up motion gags. The two plots converge nicely enough at the end though. [Eddie's Brother: 7/10 / Herman, the Tire-Kicker: 6/10]