Halloween 2024: September 12th

MaXXXine (2024)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Whale God (1962)

Kujira gami

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thriller: The Hungry Glass

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

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

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

The Addams Family: Fester's Punctured Romance

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

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

Halloween 2022: September 30th

Pearl (2022)

When it was announced, it was assumed that "X" was merely a stand-alone slasher flick. Those who saw the movie's debut at the South by Southwest festival were greeted, after the end credits, with a surprise. It was a trailer for "Pearl," an entire prequel to the movie they just finished watching. Ti West and his team shot the project in secret, immediately after production wrapped up on the first film. It was the kind of gutsy marketing stunt that easily could've backfired, if "X" wasn't successful or well received. Both movies only cost A24 two million dollars though, so maybe it wasn't such a risk after all. Luckily, the prequel was greeted by even better reviews upon release two weeks back.

Set sixty years before the events of "X," the film follows Pearl as a young woman. World War I rages in Europe, where her husband Howard is currently deployed. The Spanish Flu pandemic has increased isolation at home. Pearl toils away on her German immigrant parents' Texas farm, where she cares for her invalid father and suffers abuse at the hand of her mother, Ruth. Yet Pearl dreams of being a star, often visiting the local movie theater and enraptured by reels of dancing girls. When she hears about an upcoming audition for a dance troupe, Pearl sees it as a chance to escape her suffocating life. Her mother tells her not to go and the girl's pent-up anger explodes out. Soon, Pearl's desire to escape her situation will increase her homicidal rage.

Maxine in "X" was desperate to become a star, by any means. "Pearl" reveals that the elderly killer once had the same ambition. In the opening montage, she puts on a private dance show for the cow and sheep in the barn. She stares in awe at the girls dancing on the movie screen, dreaming about herself being in the same position. Pearl longs to be seen, to be adored. Yet, as much as she wishes to be a star, she has a competing desire not be seen. After a goose wanders into the barn during her dance and quacks at her defensively, she kills it. Later, she critically asks a photo of Howard what he's looking at. At a key moment, her mother proclaims that she sees everything Pearl does in secret. The girl wants to be seen as a star but is terrified of being judged unworthy. "Pearl" keenly wraps up the dual anxieties of someone eager to be idolized but still haunted by the fears no one will love her.

Ti West mirrors his title character's love for the movies by creating a meticulous homage to the golden age of cinema, showing that it's not just grungy horror movies he's an expert at imitating. "Pearl's" colors are bright and sharp, recalling the brilliant Technicolor glow of classic musicals and Douglas Sirk. The highly expressive score by Tyler Bates and Tim Williams swells with emotion, both exuberant and sinister. This gives the movie a sense of unreality, which is bolstered every time West slips into Pearl's elaborate daydreams. Such as a sexual encounter with a scarecrow. Or, in what might be the most unexpectedly delightful cinematic moment of the year, a full-blown song-and-dance number late in the film. The film is never cutesy with its throwback aesthetic and the handful of closing irises are very meaningfully placed. "Pearl" is an absolute spectacle to behold, playfully contrasting sunny visuals with the dark and violent world its heroine lives in. 

The mastery of the camera, editing, and production design that West displayed in "X" is also shown here. Pearl riding a bicycle off besides a cornfield almost looms like a postcard, furthering the dream-like feeling of that scene. The dinner table confrontation between mother and daughter plays out while a thunderstorm rages outside, casting ominous shadows over the room. The interior of the farmhouse is decorated in sickly greens and flesh-like reds, seeming like a seasick prison Pearl can never escape. The climax of the movie sees West creating tension with just the way the camera moves around the actresses. That's when he brilliantly drops a slasher movie cliché – a busty blonde being chased by a lunatic, who then trips and falls on nothing at the worst possible time – into this blood-soaked melodrama. This is followed by a kaleidoscopic descent totally into madness and violence. 

Much like its predecessor, "Pearl" tells an on-its-face simple story that reveals more meaning as it goes along. Symbols are dropped throughout the film. A bird in a cage seems to represent Pearl's cloistered life. A rotting roasted pig on the doorstep symbolizes her deteriorating mental state. Cross-like shadows often float in the background, suggesting the ever-present but rarely verbalized puritanical weight of tradition bearing down on Pearl. Movies themselves represents an impossible dream for Pearl, an escape to somewhere else that she can never crossover to. This is even true of her sexual life, as the caddish projectionist she courts throughout the film shows her a stag reel. Up on the screen, people are free to dance and make love however they please. In Pearl's real life, she is stuck on a farm with a drooling father and a cruel mother who insists she learn to be happy with what she has. And into this potent stew, West adds some modern-day anxieties, as setting the story during the influenza outbreak of 1918 can't help but bring our current pandemic to mind as well. 

Holding this ambitious motion picture together is a star-making performance from Mia Goth. Goth was good in "X" but "Pearl" gives her a chance to show off the kind of powder keg performer she is. She seems utterly girlish in the first half, sneaking drinks of her dad's medicine when no one is looking or joyfully dancing by herself. As the situation grows graver, Goth allows Pearl's utterly frayed nerves to show. She shrieks in fury and terror and misery, her face contorting vividly. That same face is the focus of "Pearl's" two most unforgettable moments. The first, the proper climax of the movie, is a splintering nine minute long monologue by Goth, where Pearl unfurls every anxiety and resentment she feels in her life. It's a stunning display of Goth's acting ability. The character plugs all that emotion up inside herself for the film's final frame, putting on a tortured sustained smile that West's camera lingers on, revealing everything she's feeling by covering it up. If horror movies won Oscars, Goth would be a shoe-in. She's incredible. 

West pays his due to the horror greats he loves as well. "Pearl" has clear shout-outs to "Psycho," "Night of the Hunter," and Tobe Hooper's "Eaten Alive." It also subtly calls back to "X" in several key ways. The most devastating being the audience's knowledge that Pearl isn't going to get off this farm. Still, "Pearl" is a rich enough experience to stand alone as well, if you haven't caught up with that one yet. If "X" was a brilliantly assembled and layered ode to horror's sleaziest glory days, then "Pearl" is an incredibly rich character study about the love of cinema and the madness of isolation. "MaXXXine," the eighties set capper to this trilogy that is teased after the credits and already in preproduction, is going to have to be a hell of a movie to live up to these two, some of the most exciting and brilliantly brought-to-life horror films I've seen recently. [9/10]

The Night Walker (1964)

William Castle will always be best remember for his gimmick movies. His career was defined by outrageous in-theater tricks like Emergo, Percepto, and Illusion-O. Yet I do wonder if, as the sixties winded on, he was growing tired of these nutty stunts. Or maybe he was just running out of good ideas. He'd use them less and less as the decade wind on. Nestled between the world-wide casting call for “13 Frightened Girls” and the paper axes of “Strait-Jacket” was his gimmick-less 1963 remake of “The Old Dark House.”  The next year's “The Night Walker” is probably the most notable of Castle's gimmick-less genre efforts. Castle deemed the re-teaming of former husband and wife performers Barbara Stanwyck and Robert Taylor – alongside the movie's quirky focus on dreams and a screenplay from “Psycho's” Robert Bloch – enough of a publicity stunt for this one.  

Saloon owner Irene Trent is married to Howard Trent, a blind and partially deformed millionaire with a possessive streak. Irene has reoccurring dreams about other men, which makes Howard paranoid that she's cheating on him. Following an ugly argument, where Howard accuses Irene of sleeping with Barry, his lawyer, the blind man dies in a freak laboratory accident. Yet Irene's strange dreams persists. She is haunted by nightmares of Howard and of her mysterious dream lover. Irene begins to suspect that her night time visions are crossing over with reality. She teams up with Barry to get to the bottom of this, as the figures from her dreams seemingly emerge into the waking world. 

“The Night Walker” begins with a stunning sequence, that feels like something out of an extended trailer. A gravelly narrator – immediately recognizable as veteran voice-over artist Paul Frees – intones on the subjects of dreams, reality, and death. Behind him, a swirl of bizarre images play. Among them is the incubus that graves the poster, an eyeball inside a hand, and a woman floating among a landscape. (Which, in one shot, is partially made of an outline of Freud's face.) It's really cool, very surreal, and the only time “The Night Walker” truly attempts pure dream logic. The only other moment that comes close is a sequence where Irene's dream lover invites him to a marriage. A dreamy P.O.V. tracking shot takes us inside a chapel. Speaking mannequins reside inside, a chandelier spinning over head. The sequence ends with faces spinning wildly as the scenery blurs. 

As much as “The Night Walker” is concerned with dreams, most of its other nightmare scenes are grounded in reality. Irene's dream lover and her dead husband appear to romance and taunt her in equal measure. Instead of going a fantastical route, the film frustratingly decides to find a rational explanation for everything. Irene and Barry go about investigating the landmarks she sees in her dreams, all of which are real locations. Long before this plot development, its already clear that “Night Walker” is weaving another standard gas-lighting plot. As the movie winds down towards its final reveal, the plot gets increasingly ridiculous and unlikely. Multiple characters are involved in the conspiracy. Two plot twists are dropped on us within the closing minutes, both barely justifying everything that came before.

It's not that “The Night Walker” is ineffective. Castle was adapt at engineering a good scare. The scarred, blank-eyed face of Howard appears suddenly, either through fog or from behind a door. A knife being tossed into a wall is another surprising moment. The image of a massive hole in the floor, the remains of the husband's burned up laboratory, makes for some cool shots in several scenes. The musical score, driven by strumming bass guitar, is effectively spooky. Barbara Stanwyck gives a very professional performance as Irene. She's less histrionic than Joan Crawford or Betty Davis were in similar scream queen roles, clearly trying to bring some realism by still conveying the character's terror. It's unsurprising that she has nice chemistry with Robert Taylor as Barry. I wish the film did more with their slap-slap-kiss dynamic. 

“The Night Walker” would under-performed at the box office, suggesting that maybe Castle should've included a far-out gimmick for this one after all. (Supposedly, Castle created a promotional short about hypnotism called “Experiments in Nightmares” to promote the movie. I can find no traces of it.) It would be Stanwyck's final theatrical credit and the last black-and-white movie Universal released. The movie has attracted a fair share of defenders over the years, likely owing to that creepy opening and that one notable dream sequence. It just bugs me when movies depicted dreams as logical affairs and that's a pitfall “The Night Walker” stumbles into far too often. [6/10]

Thriller: The Devil's Ticket

I've enjoyed each previous episode of "Thriller," the most beloved of the three anthology shows Boris Karloff hosted, I've reviewed. So here's another. "The Devil's Ticket" follows struggling realist artist Hector Vane who has pawned everything he and his wife, Marie, owns. Flat broke, he finally decides to begin pawning his paintings. Upon arriving at the shop, the usual owner has been replaced by seemingly the devil himself. Hector agrees to loan his soul to the Satanic pawnbroker for three months, in exchange for success and popularity. It works and Vane's paintings begin flying out of the galleries. He also gains a mistress named Nadja, whom he adores. As the months wind down, the devil agrees to not claim Vane's soul on one condition: He paints a portrait of someone else and give it to the pawnbroker, Vane essentially trading his soul for someone else's. 

"The Devil's Ticket" is based on a story from Robert Bloch, like multiple episodes of "Thriller." It puts a clever spin on the deal-with-the-devil premise... With one serious flaw. We're never given a good reason to care about Hector Vane. His ego seems to be the main thing driving him, instead of the typical artistic desire for recognition. In the first scene, he's rude to Marie, who is totally devoted to him for unexplained reasons. He repeatedly tells his mistress how much he loves her without doing a single nice thing for her. She's understandably annoyed by his lack of devotion, which obviously includes his unwillingness to leave his wife. When the devil gives him an ultimatum, he angsts endlessly about what to do without ever considering the morally correct option: Giving up his success and letting the devil take his soul. MacDonald Carey is fine in the lead, showing the proper amount of desperation, but can't overcome the guy being a total schmuck. 

Despite a whining protagonist, I did still enjoy "The Devil's Ticket." A lot of that is owed to John Emery as the devil. Emery is introduced practically twirling his mustache. The final scene even sees him donning a cape, which he swishes dramatically. The last act features some clever plot twists, as Hector attempts to outsmart Lucifer himself. Each scheme is undone in nicely ironic fashion. As is befitting the Faustian set-up, the protagonist is too clueless to realize he already had everything he needed before its too late. I've never seen an episode of “Thriller” that didn't have a go-for-the-throat ending and some nicely atmospheric black-and-white direction. This one follows suit, alongside an effectively flowery score from Morton Stevens. A less annoying hero could've made “The Devil's Ticket” a truly impressive hour of television but an amusingly sinister Emery and an otherwise strong screenplay still makes it worth a look. [7/10]

The Munsters: Pike's Pique / Low-Cal Munster 

In “Pike's Pique,” the local oil company plans to run a pipeline under the Munsters' house. Instead, they punch through into Grandpa's underground laboratory. Borden T. Pike, the company's owner, attempts to negotiate with the undead family but it repeatedly goes awry. Largely thanks to his neurotic wife and Grandpa's interference. “Low-Cal Munster” reveals that Herman is a veteran. His army unit is having a reunion soon but Herman is too chubby to fit into his old uniform. He goes on an insane diet to loose the necessary weight before the get-together. This becomes especially difficult when Thanksgiving comes along.

“Pike's Pique” is probably the funniest episode of “The Munsters” I've reviewed so far. It finds an ideal balance between goofy visual comedy, honed sixties sitcom timing, and the lovable cast delivering pun-filled punchlines. This episode always knows when to cut to a cartoonish sight gag. Eddie playing with a giant mouse trap, Grandpa turning into a wolf and leaping in the wrong direction or hanging upside down, a golf club going limp, a house of cards reassembling: All of these ridiculous sights appear just when they are needed. Fred Gwynne cracking lines about loosing your head or smashing through a table in rage is just two examples of the exuberant cast enlivening silly dialogue. It also helps that this episode has an appealing guest star in the form of Richard Deacon as Mr. Pike. His meek interactions with his paranoid wife and the monstrous family members is a rich source of laughs. 

“Low-Cal Herman,” meanwhile, is broad even by the standards of this show. The climax, of Herman tearing out of the Munster family house and intruding into a family dinner, is silly stuff indeed. Paul Lynde reappears as the near-sighted family doctor, resulting in lots of amusing puns about Herman's undead state and the doctor's poor vision. (That does come back around in an amusing way, in the episode's second half.) I'm not saying these things didn't amuse me. Gwynne struggling with slicing a vitamin pill or sneaking into the fridge in the middle of the night to eat an over-sized sausage did make me chuckle. But you can only see so many diet-related gags before it runs dry a little. For what it's worth, I do not appreciate the other Munsters fat-shaming Herman. He looks svelte enough to me. [Pike's Pique: 8/10 / Low-Cal Herman: 6/10]

Halloween 2022: September 29th

X (2022)

Over the course of about a decade, Ti West made seven feature films and contributed to at least two anthologies. After such a prolific streak, it's understandable that the director would take a break of sorts over the last five years. I say “of sorts” because West was directing television during that time. As he made installments of "The Exorcist” and “Scream” shows, I was left wondering when he’d make another feature. Luckily, West has returned in 2022 with not one but two new theatrical releases, with a third film arriving next year. It seems the ever-economic filmmaker must’ve found a good partnership with A24, today’s leading provider of art house horror. The threesome would kick-off last March with “X.” 

In the summer of 1979, an aspiring filmmaker and his cast and crew heads into the Texan countryside to shoot a pornographic movie. Director RJ hopes to make something more artful than mere smut while Maxine – girlfriend to producer Wayne – hopes to become an adult superstar. As a filming location, they have rented a house on the property of an elderly farmer named Howard. The old man is unaware of the movie's subject matter. His reclusive wife, Pearl, seems entranced by Maxine and the cast however. Something inside Pearl has been reawaken by the nubile young bodies of the pornographers: A lust... For murder.

"X's" opening shot is framed by barn doors, suggesting the tight aspect ratio of the 8mm, no-budget porno of the day. This is just the first sign that West, a director always fascinated by the visual and pacing styles of retro filmmaking, is out to accurately recreate his seventies setting. The cast in "X" are gloriously unkempt looking, with body hair and facial imperfections. Sweat is everywhere. Supporting Tyler Bates' excellent score, full of willowy gasps that invoke sexual moans, is a number of era-approprite needle drops. An acoustic cover of “Landslide” is especially well used. The farm house is caked with brilliantly true-to-life dust and clutter, which is just one of many ways "X" invokes "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre." Yet West isn't simply aping a sleazy, seventies look to placate nostalgic horror nerds. "X" is a story about age and desire, which is smartly reflected in its visual adherence to a by-gone cinematic aesthetic. The elderly murderers long for the days of their youth, much the same way the film's very style longs for the horror genre's past.

The contrast in age between the killers and their victims highlights another aspect of “X's” time period. The porno chic era that “X's” heroes hope to capitalize on was a time when people where expressing themselves sexually in an open, fearless way. The film's lead actress, Bobby-Lynne, is sexually voracious and dating her black co-star, Jackson. Lorraine, the production's quiet boom mic operator and RJ's girlfriend, spontaneously decides to have sex on-camera. RJ freaks out about this, threatening to abandon the cast and crew at the farm house, which is just one way “X” speaks to the inevitable backlash to this era of open sexually expressive. Pearl calls Maxine a whore and religious sermons, speaking to the decadence and depravity of the world, play frequently in the background. All throughout the film, there's this suggesting of a shifting cultural landscape. Jackson is a Vietnam veteran, while Howard is a vet of an earlier war, for another example of the changing times – of the past resenting the present – that the movie is about.

Yet West is smart enough to not make the villains simply puritanical gatekeepers, killing young pornographers for violating their moral code. Pearl has a sexual appetite herself, that her husband discourages because of his weak heart. Her murders are partially inspired by the crew, first Maxine and then RJ, rejecting her advances. “X's” psycho-biddy desires the sexually free youngsters as much as she resents them. The camera often lingers on the wrinkly old bodies of Pearl and Howard, in contrast to the tight, toned bodies of the porn actors. These young people have freedoms Pearl's generation never had but they also have something we're all going to run out of someday: Youth. We, as humans, are always eager to hold onto and recapture our younger days, which is why Pearl's hunger for sex (and murder) randomly revitalizes at this point in time. 

The decision to have Mia Goth play both Maxine and Pearl links these two characters in a meaningful way. The dow-eyed Goth plays Maxine as a girl desperate to prove herself, obsessed with becoming a star. Her decision to become a pornographic actress, as well as her habit of sniffing coke throughout, can't help but make us imagine a sad end for her. Meanwhile, there's Pearl, a woman locked in a house in the middle of nowhere. She decorates her bedroom with rotting baby dolls, an audience that can't judge or mock her. Howard says Pearl has had troubles in the past. What happened to this woman to bring her to this point? “X's” final scene gives us more insight into Maxine's past and it becomes clear she's trying to escape repressive circumstances too. These two women, separated by time and space, are both desperate to be wanted, to be touched and validated and loved. 

West cooks these intriguing ideas into a flawlessly executed slasher story. His camera moves sensually over the characters' bodies but also over their camera equipment or, in one scene, a suggestively shaped meal the group is eating. That's just a good example of how tightly shot and cut “X” is. It's murder scenes are suspensefully assembled, a man peering through a peephole being an especially notable moment. There's plenty of style to be had too, when a stabbing scene set to “Don't Fear the Reaper” creates some red-tinted visuals in a clever way. The presence of an alligator in a lake is nicely set-up in a dreamy earlier scene but still catches the viewer off-guard later. Like all quality slashers, tension rises as the cast is cleaved through and the audience comes to cheer for a heroine fighting off her attackers. A cow gutted on the open early on foreshadows an eventual fate while also presenting the film's dark, sensual fixation on the flesh. 

“X” can only be considered a proud return to the screen for Ti West. The deliberate, mumblecore-influenced style of his earlier movies has grown into something more polished and cinematic. He knows how to deliver on the crowd-pleasing elements slasher fans crave but hasn't lost his ability to generate the specific ambiance he specialized in. The film is brilliantly assembled, in terms of direction and production values, while digging at deeper ideas in a way that doesn't spoon-feed the audience. It's a damn fine slasher flick and a lot more, that excels at tickling the lizard brain while providing us with plenty to think about and wraps it all in some spectacular style. [9/10]

Mysterious Island (1961)

Jules Verne was a groundbreaking innovator that helped birth the science fiction genre as we know it. He also wasn't above paying homage to his influences. In 1867, he would write “In Search of the Castaways,” his take on the deserted island premise that was widely influenced by “Robinson Crusoe.” In 1870, Verne would write “The Mysterious Island,” which functioned as both a sequel to “Search of the Castaways” and “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.” It was also another take on a story about castaways stranded on an isolated island. In 1961, Columbia – likely spurned-on by the success of Disney's 1954 film version of "Leagues" – would adapt this Verne sequel to silver screens. Ray Harryhausen was then hired to add a bunch of giant animals to it, pushing the film into the realm of sci-fi creature feature.

During the American Civil War, a group of Union soldiers escape a Confederate prisoners-of-war camp. The group, led by Captain Cyrus Harding, leap into a balloon as a storm rages through the area. The five men – which include Spillet, a war reporter, and Pencroft, one of the Confederate guards – are blown far out to sea. They land on a seemingly uncharted island. The features of this mysterious isle includes enormous animals, pirates, and an active volcano. The men manage to survive, even finding a duo of female castaways. They soon discover that Captain Nemo, of the legendary Nautilus, has been observing and assisting them. 

There's a reason why Verne's “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea” is regarded as a literary classic while “The Mysterious Island” has been largely forgotten by history. It's not that good of a novel, with a heavily episodic plot that is littered with cheap deus ex machinas. Unfortunately, Cy Endfield's film adaptation decides to largely maintain that structure. In the book, it's eventually revealed that the items that castaways need keep washing up on the beach because Captain Nemo has been secretly helping them. In the movie, this is just implied and still doesn't explain why a pair of comely English ladies wash up too. The movie has a shaggy pacing, navigating from one incident to the next. Whether it be pirates, oversized critters, and a volcanic eruption, “Mysterious Island' simply limps from one set-piece to the next, without ever building much in the way of momentum.

“Mysterious Island” probably proves duller than expected because its cast never quite rises to the level of compelling. Michael Craig's Captain Harding is a standard, cocksure hero type. Michael Callan costars as Herbert, the younger officer who has to prove himself. It's a mildly compelling arc that is abruptly abandoned midway through the film. English actor Percy Herbert plays the confederate soldier, boasting an extremely strange attempt at a Southern accent. Of the women, Beth Rogan makes the biggest impression largely because she spends most of the movie in a home-made miniskirt. The film perks up considerably once Herbert Lom, as a studied and serious Captain Nemo, enters the story. Yet far too much of “Mysterious Island” is devoted to following an underwhelming cast playing forgettable characters.

If all of this is true, why is “Mysterious Island” regarded by some aging monster kids as a classic? It's entirely thanks to Ray Harryhausen's stop motion creature effects. The film completely comes to life any time Harryhausen's miraculous work takes center stage. The sequence involving the giant crab is fantastic fun, the massive crustacean's eyes and jaws twitching as it snaps huge claws at the humans. The way the critter is defeated, and then disposed of, is probably the movie's funniest joke. The screenwriters must've been aware of this, as they repeat that gag with the second huge monster the crew encounters. That's a prehistoric terror-bird, that looks a lot like a giant chicken. Again, it's another vividly animated beast that seamlessly interacts with the human cast. The best Harryhausen creation in the film is actually the giant bee. Its jerking wings and mandibles show an amazing degree of expression. I wish the enormous nautilus shell creature that randomly appears in the film's climax got a little more to do though. 

The best films Harryhausen worked on balanced story, character, and his show-stopping Dynamation effects. Some of them, however, cannot build a compelling plot or cast around the bad-ass monster scenes. “The Mysterious Island” is probably the weakest of the Harryhausen projects I've reviewed thus far. It needed a much sturdier script and far more of Herbert Lom as Captain Nemo to be a real classic. Yet you simply can't overstate how fucking cool Harryhausen's contribution is. Those scenes essentially save the movie and briefly take a film that probably would've been totally tedious and occasionally makes it a highly entertaining motion picture. [6/10]

One Step Beyond: The Death Waltz

“One Step Beyond” distinguished itself from other anthology shows by claiming its fantastical tales were true stories. Even when they were obviously myths that had circulated far and wide. This is certainly the case with “The Death Waltz.” The episode is set during the Apache Wars of the 1860s. It follows Lillie, a vain general's daughter who enjoys toying with men's hearts. A young lieutenant named Eustace is hopelessly in love with her but Lillie prefers the more handsome Lieutenant Buchanan. Eustace leaves suddenly in the middle of the night at Lillie's urging, assuring her he'd march through Hell to return. He dies in an ambush. At a ball, soon afterwards, Lillie is happy to dance with Buchanan... And is stunned when Eustace appears.

The urban legend being adapted in “The Death Waltz” is more commonly known as the Dancing Devil story. In most tellings of the tale, the dashing beau that sweeps the maiden off her feet is revealed to be the devil himself when everyone notices his cloven hooves. The demon is then chased off, sometimes taking someone's soul with him. I guess the traditional story was deemed either too demonic or not suitably ironic for “One Step Beyond.” Instead, it becomes a ghost story of karmic revenge. Lillie thinks she can manipulate men however she wants but supernatural justice is visited upon her. The episode adds a decent layer of spookiness to its telling. Eustace's return is foreshadowed by his voice echoing through the night at Lillie. The final waltz, foretold in the title, is dramatically pulled off. 

“The Death Waltz” is probably most notable for being a pre-”Bewitched” starring role for Elizabeth Montgomery. It's definitely amusing to see “Bewitched's” Samantha playing a cold-hearted seductress who gleefully manipulates men. She's certainly the exact kind of character you like to see get punished for her crimes. It's a sturdy bit of ghostly fun, if largely undistinguished. The more of “One Step Beyond” I watch, the more I realize why it never really caught on. Host John Newman is always stone-faced and slightly sentimental, which compares negatively to the philosophical intoning of Rod Serling or the glib gallows humor of Alfred Hitchcock. Still, “The Death Waltz” is reasonable entertaining for fans of urban legends who can tolerate stodgy old TV. [7/10]

The Munsters: A Walk on the Mild Side / Rock-A-Bye Munster

In “A Walk on the Mild Side,” Herman is stressed because Grandpa's experiments – an attempt to build an enlarging ray – are raising the household electrical bills. He goes for walks in the park at night to clear his mind before bed. When he's spotted by people, at the same time a mugger is attacking women, the police become concerned a fiendish monster is stalking the park. In “Rock-A-Bye Munster,” Herman and Grandpa eavesdrop on Lily and Marilyn while discussing babysitting the family doctor's child. The men misinterpret the conversation as meaning Lily is pregnant again. Lily also plans to buy Herman a car for his birthday, further confusing her husband with talks of an incoming surprise.

“A Walk on the Mild Side” balances some the central joke of the series with some delightfully goofy sight-gags. Obviously, Herman doesn't realize he's the monster in the park everyone is talking about. In fact, he dismisses a belief in monsters all together. When attacked by the police, he believes that's the mysterious beast, leading to an amusingly oversized reaction. Another moment, when Grandpa is working on his machine, causes the household objects to go berserk. That's the silliest scene in the episode and the one that got the biggest laugh from me. The police subplot features some good, goofy stuff – such as the police chief's habits with his pet bird or a loose ceiling tile – but concludes with an unfortunate cross-dressing joke. The plot wraps up in a nicely satisfying manner, even if the B-plot about Grandpa's growth ray never quite pays off.

While the third episode is more about the Munsters reacting with normal people, “Rock-A-Bye Munster” focuses entirely on interaction within the family. The episode gets a lot of mileage out of the ever-fruitful comedic device of a conversation with two meanings. Herman's baffled reactions to Lily's matter-of-fact statements, when he believes she's talking about their incoming child, makes for some wonderful laughs. The plot threads weave together nicely in the final act, where Herman mistakes the other boy's toy for his new child. Honestly, I'm impressed by how structurally sound the scripts for this old, goofy sitcom can be. There's also a very silly guest appearance from Paul Lynde, as the near-sighted doctor, and the episode concludes by introducing the beloved Munsters Koach. Cause what's a pop-art sixties TV show without a cool car? [A Walk on the Mild Side: 7/10 / Rock-A-Bye Munster: 7/10]

Halloween 2022: September 28th

The Sacrament  (2013)

The mumblecore style and the found footage phenomenon both started to peak around the same time, making cross pollination inevitable. Both formats, after all, prioritized improvisation and handheld camerawork to capture a sense of realism. The “V/H/S” series did a lot to further the connection, as well as establishing Adam Wingard and Ti West as the biggest names in this “mumblegore” crossover. West's first feature after participating in “V/H/S” was “The Sacrament,” which seemed to be another found footage project at first. The film, which featured a prominent producer credit from Eli Roth, is better described as a mockumentary, keeping some of the trademarks of the found footage style while discarding others. While “The Sacrament” was positioned as the movie that would take West out of the indie scene and into the mainstream, it instead proved harder to sell than that because of its disturbing subject matter. Ya see, “The Sacrament” is heavily inspired by the Jonestown Massacre. 

Sam, a reporter from Vice, is interviewing a New York fashion photographer named Patrick when he lets it slip that his sister is living in a cult. Eden Parish is a supposedly utopian community out in the backwoods of Mississippi, run by an enigmatic religious leader known only as Father. Sam and his cameraman, Jake, decide to investigate. Immediately, they sense something is wrong, as guards with guns greet them at the gates of the commune. Patrick's sister and everyone else insists everything is great at Eden Parish but Father is defensive when questioned. Soon, Sam and Jake learn why: Horrible abuse is happening there. When a whole crowd of people want to leave the next morning with the reporters, threatening to expose what is going on, Father gives a ghastly order to everyone in the entire cult.

The thought process behind “The Sacrament” seems to be to drop a camera into Jonestown in the hours leading up to and during the horrible day. The film is an often harrowing recreation of that real life tragedy. We see the panic and fear in the citizens of the parish, and the enforcers of the cult leader, as things grow graver. Once the mass suicide order is given, “The Sacrament” becomes a highly uncomfortable watch. Adults and children drink Flavor Aid laced with cyanide. Mothers reluctantly allow their infant children to be injected with the poison. The camera watches unflinchingly as people spasm and die, foam bubbling from their mouths. Those that attempt to flee are gunned down in cold blood. It's stark and horrifying, over a hundred innocent people having their lives ended to satisfy the warped justice of a man gone mad with power. (“The Sacrament” specifies that 179 die in its fictionalized massacre, a fraction of the 918 people who actually died at Jonestown.)

As disturbing as “The Sacrament” is, one really has to question the intentions behind making the movie. The film is not a proper fictionalization of the real events. Jim Jones, his cult, nor any of the real people involved are ever named or mentioned. Why make a movie so clearly about Jonestown, that sets out to accurately recreate the deaths of countless people, without mentioning the true events? What makes this approach even more discomforting is that “The Sacrament” often operates like a standard horror film at times. A woman setting herself on fire, or the cameraman hiding from a shooter, are designed like standard horror movie shocks. This unpleasant disconnect is most obvious in a scene where a mother kills her own daughter, to spare her being murdered by the faithful cult members. Trying to mine scares from such awful real events is tasteless and disrespectful. Pretending that the movie isn't based on actual people who lived, died, and were murdered doesn't really make it any less so.

The movie makes me wonder why it exists. Yet, if nothing else, “The Sacrament” does a good job of showing how cults work. Patrick's sister is a recovering drug addict. Many other residents of the community are as well. Those that aren't former addicts are disenfranchised from society for other reasons, whether they be elderly or racially persecuted. The message of unity and hope that “Father” preaches gives them the structure and support they need to improve their lives... At the cost of making them dependent on someone else, who insists on a strict system that revolves around praising him and demonizing the outside world. When that power – which also allows the cult leader to indulge the earthly pleasures he decries – is threatened, that's when Father gives the kill order. It must also be said that Gene Jones gives a compelling performance as Jones stand-in, a man who is clearly charismatic but still an intimidating presence. 

“The Sacrament” succeeds at being disturbing but at what cost? I have no problem with a movie basing itself on tragic true events. I'm not even necessarily offended by a genre picture exploiting real life horror for shock value or publicity. Yet “The Sacrament” does not successfully tow this line. Its tone is too grim for cheap thrills but it goes for them anyway. The result can only make me feel uncomfortable, no matter how good the intentions behind it might've been. I'm also bugged that West seems noncommittal to the documentary premise, the score and multiple camera angles disrupting the realism he's otherwise striving for. I think the director should've just made a straight ahead drama about Jonestown, instead of attempting to squeeze this story of historical terror into a conventional genre mold. You can't deny that "The Sacrament" unnerves the audience but it ultimately doesn't sit right with me at all. [6/10]

The Shock (1923)

In cinematic history, Lon Chaney will always be recognized as the first American horror star... Yet that statement always comes with a big asterisk. While “Phantom of the Opera” and “London After Midnight” unquestionably belong to the macabre, horror as we know it today hadn't really solidified into its recognized form by the 1920s. Chaney was a major star during the silent era, which meant the majority of the films he headlined belonged to the most popular genre of the day: The melodrama. The effect this has is, when navigating through Chaney's filmography for stuff to include in these Halloween marathons, I often end up delving into films that barely classify as horror. All of this is a disclaimer for me reviewing “The Shock,” a 1923 silent feature that is 99% melodrama and 1% horror.

Chaney stars as Wilse Dilling, a crippled enforcer working for Chinatown-based mob boss, Ann Cardington. Cardington is the former lover of banker Hadley, who operates out of the small suburban town of Fallbrook. Cardington has engineered an elaborate revenge scheme against Hadley, which involves sending Wilse to spy on his daughter, Gertrude. Wilse quickly falls for Gertrude and finds his hardened heart softening after living in the peaceful town. Having experienced a change of heart, Wilse decides to protect Gertrude's father. Ann's desire for revenge remains and it all comes to a head during the 1906 San Francisco earthquake. 

As the child of deaf parents, Lon Chaney must've related to people with disabilities. He played deformed or disadvantaged so often throughout his career. “The Shock” is yet another example, as Chaney spends the entire movie hobbling around on crutches or using a wheelchair. Since the 1920s were a less enlightened time, twisted bodies usually represented twisted minds. As far as physical frailties go, Wilse's limping gait ranks far below the usual Chaney contortions. This might be why the character is one of the few virtuous cripples the actor played. By the end of the film, Wilse's criminal instincts have totally fallen away and his disability is miraculously healed. (This is directly equated with him embracing the good Christian religion Gertrude encourages.) If this wasn't politically incorrect enough, the film also depicts Chinatown as nothing but a den of sin and crime.

Outdated cultural ideas come with the territory, when you're watching a movie that's nearly a century old. Also to be expected is a degree of contrived histrionics. Yes, there's a love triangle or two. Gertrude is already engaged to another man when Wilse develops feelings for her. The entanglements involving Queen Ann's vengeful plan, not to mention the subplot about banking, only grow more convoluted as the movie goes on. “The Shock's” melodramatic nature peaks during its climax. Wilse prayers to God to intervene, which is when the earthquake occurs and defeats the villains. Yes, a major disaster is depicted as being a divine act, that is also used to represents the formerly criminal protagonist completely turning over a new leaf. But at least the earthquake effects are neat to look at.

Not matter how overheated “The Shock” gets, Lon Chaney is always there to hold it together. As always, nobody excelled at playing these scheming but pathetic wretches like him. The scene where Gertrude introduces Wilse to her fiancée, Chaney manages to express the man's heart breaking and him coming to accept the situation with just a subtle shift of his face. The moment immediately following, where he grabs her boyfriend's arm and tells him that he better not hurt Gertrude, is oddly touching but also Chaney's most malevolent moment in “The Shock.” Lon is so good that you even forgive the film for completely skipping over Wilse going from a heartless baddie to a nice guy. This occurs during a title card, the mere act of moving out of the city and into the suburbs apparently being enough to change his entire disposition. 

As for “The Shock's” minimal horror content, it's isolated entirely to Chaney's mild deformity and some haunted house-style secret passageways in Queen Ann's lair. Otherwise, this one resides solely within the realm of the melodrama. It's not a particularly good one either. However, Chaney's performance, ever powerful, and the sweet romance he shares with his costar does make the movie worth watching. By the way, this was a Universal picture – one of their Universal Jewels presentations – but to consider this part of the legacy of Universal monster movies seems like a stretch. Maybe I'll get luckier next year when selecting a spooky Lon Chaney flick to watch. [6/10]

Alfred Hitchcock Presents: The Case of Mr. Pelham

When looking up episodes of “Alfred Hitchcock Presents,” the ones directed by Hitch himself naturally draw the most attention. Among the most critically acclaimed of this lot is “The Case of Mr. Pelham,” from the series' very first season. The titular character is Albert Pelham, a successful businessman. He runs into a psychologist friend at a bar and relates to him a creeping paranoia he's having. Over the last few weeks, it's become apparent a doppelganger of Mr. Pelham exists. He slowly seems to be infiltrating into Albert's life. He grows increasingly paranoid and unsound, trying to dissuade this double at every turn and always finding himself outmatched. It's only a matter of time before the man and his copy come face-to-face.

“The Case of Mr. Pelham” is one of the few “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” episodes that floats into the realm of supernatural horror. The story certainly teases with the idea that Mr. Pelham is having a psychological break of some sort, imagining everything or developing a split personality. Yet, as the episode goes on, it becomes clear that there really is a doppelganger. His butler and co-workers have seen him, believing the copy to be the genuine article. When facing down the double, Albert asks him what power he serves, seemingly confirming the otherworldly connotations. The episode is perfectly paced, slowly escalating the invasion of Pelham's personal life by this duplicate, until he's infiltrating his most intimate inner circle. The copy is undefeated at every angle, Mr. Pelham's attempts to distinguish himself only making him look like the fake.

What makes this idea so scary isn't that the doppelganger simply exists. It's that he's better at Pelham's own life than he is. The perfect copy is better at his job, more popular with his friends, and eventually becomes more successful. That's an existentially terrifying premise. That someone else could easily slip into your own life, take it over, and overcome all of your weaknesses feels utterly nightmarish. Tom Ewell's increasingly panicked performance conveys that feeling excellently. “The Case of Mr. Pelham's” ends on a distressingly ironic moment, that seals the ambiance of a bad dream. Hitchcock's typically sardonic host segments bemoan the lack of murder in this episode but that doesn't stop it from being a nicely chilling experience. [8/10]

The Munsters: Monster Masquerade / My Fair Munster

Popular opinion seems compelled to forever compare “The Addams Family” and “The Munsters.” Both aired at the same time. Both only ran for two seasons but became so popular in syndication, that numerous spin-offs and revivals followed in the decades since. While the general consensus is “The Addams Family” is the funnier, sharper show, I've always preferred “The Munsters.” Maybe it's just because I'm partial to the Universal Monsters, the inspiration for Herman and his brood. Maybe I just prefer dumb-ass gags over more biting observations about polite society. Maybe it was the kick-ass surf rock theme song. I'll probably have to review both shows in their entirety some day but “The Munsters” was always destined to be first. 

“Monster Masquerade” establishes many of the show's running gags. Marilyn, the normal looking niece of the family, has caught the eye of a guy named Tom. In hopes of winning her favor, he invites her entire family to a masquerade party run by his rich parents. Herman, Lily, and Grandpa end up getting into shenanigans at the party. Lily's love life helps drive the second episode's plot too. In “My Fair Munster,” Grandpa invents an attraction potion to help Marilyn's dating prospects but accidentally doses the family breakfast with it instead. This ends up making Herman and Lily irresistible, attracting the attention of the mailman and the stuck-up lady next door. 

“The Munsters” can never be called sophisticated humor because the entire series revolves around one joke: This family of monsters think they are perfectly normal, wholesome folks, while everyone reacts to their macabre habits with shock and fright. “Monster Masquerade” certainly has its share of gags like that. Such as the B-plot, in which the elderly neighbor lady babysits Eddie and is confused by the haunted mansion abode and the boy's howling. The A-plot features Herman accidentally insulting the boy's father by complementing his costume – a Frankenstein get-up – and later shattering a mirror with his true face. “My Fair Munster” double-down on this, with jokes about Eddie's werewolf doll, the boy hanging out in the fireplace, Grandpa playing checkers with a ghost, or Lily making oatmeal in a witch's cauldron. 

I'm a sucker for hoary old gags like these. Yet what makes this show really delightful is the cast. Fred Gwynne's Herman is a lovable goof, who responds with genuine baffled confusion to the normal people's reactions. Al Lewis' Grandpa is gloriously silly, hamming it up when working on potions in “Monster Masquerade” or performing spells in “My Fair Munster.” It's already clear that these performer had perfect comedic timing. Gwynne's reaction to a drink being poured into his suit of armor costume in the first episode, or how he tiptoes through the hallway in the second, get laughs. Yvonne De Carlo's straight-woman status, and way with a simple line like discouraging Grandpa's “smoking,” can also not be undervalued to the series' success. I'm also obviously partial to the set design, as 1313 Mockingbird Lane is clearly the kind of home I wouldn't mind living in. Or at least hanging out in for a while.

Of these first two episodes, “Munster Masquerade” is definitely the funnier. The costume party premise allows the cast to riff on the material more, even if it lead to the inevitable bits about people getting scared. “My Fair Munster” devotes much more time to the bewitched normies – which notably includes John Fiedler, the voice of Piglet himself, as the mailman – chasing the Munsters. The extended chase scene, which involves a lot of sped-up footage and jokes about the spooky house's secret passageways, gets a little too wacky. Yet there are even laughs here, especially in how Fiedler exits the home or the goofy one-liner from Herman that wraps up the show. I have no idea if this strain of silliness will ware out its welcome by the time I've finished mainlining the first season but I'm enjoying it so far. [Munster Masquerade: 7/10 / My Fair Munster: 6/10]