Halloween 2025: September 3rd

 

Death of a Unicorn (2025)

Long ago, longer now than it seems, "Cabin in the Woods" featured a murderous unicorn. It was a great gag but did make one wonder: Can the unicorn be a movie monster? The modern conception – a majestic white horse with a single golden horn – is most associated with little girls, the queer community, and anything colorful, graceful, and pure-of-heart. This represents a flattening of the weirder creature found in classical mythology. One-horned ungulates first appeared on pottery from the Indus Valley around 2000 BC. In 70 AD, Pliny the Elder included the "monoceros" among the wildlife of India. This was an animal with the body of a horse, the head of a stag, the feet of an elephant, a boar's tail, and a long black horn emerging from its forehead. Descriptions of unicorns as fearsome, uncatchable beasts that healed the sick and purified water with its horn were common by medieval times. Something closer to the modern version emerges then, usually depicted as a white horse or goat with cloven hooves, a long tail, a beard, and a narwhal tusk growing from its skull. Stories and tapestries depicted the unicorn as an untamable, violent beast whose wild heart could only be soothed by a virginal maiden. This narrative – the fearsome unicorn pursued by man in his greed, captured by the fair lady, killed and then miraculously revived – proliferated as a parable for Christ's crucifixion, resurrection, and bond with the Holy Virgin. The latter most story inspired filmmaker Alex Scharfman to write "Death of a Unicorn." It was A24's quirkier horror project earlier this year and, despite some soft reviews, I wanted to catch up with it.

Widower lawyer Elliot Kinter and his teenage daughter, Ridley, drive through a mountainous nature preserve on the way to the estate of Odell Leopold. The CEO of a powerful pharmaceutical company, Odell has secluded himself in his villa – with his wife Belinda and idiot son Shep – as he dies of cancer. Elliot has been summoned to sort out Odell's affairs. On the drive-up, he strikes an animal with his car. It looks a lot like a white horse with a single golden horn. Both Elliot and Ridley get splattered with the creature's blue blood. Only after the animal has to be killed by Leopold's head of security do Elliot and Ridley noticed that their ailments – her acme, his nearsightedness – have been healed. Realizing what they have, Odell injects the blood and regains his health. The Leopolds immediately go about trying to turn this miracle cure into their next million dollar drug. Ridley, who grasped the animal's horn and received a vision, believes it is a mythological unicorn... And that the medieval legends of the creature are far more dangerous than those around her realize. It's not long before the parents of the young unicorn, vicious and determined, come to retrieve the corpse of their off-spring. 

“Death of a Unicorn” is faithful to the medieval morality tales it invokes. It is an updating of what you might call a fairy tale, in the Grimm Brothers' sense. This is a story where the wicked are punished and the virtuous prevail. Setting such a story among pharmaceutical company CEOs led to some complaints that the film is ham-fisted. Maybe but those that seek to profit off the sick and dying, bleeding them dry with criminally high prices, while patting themselves on the back for “helping the world” deserve all the comical scorn they can get. Leopold is a cartoonishly evil capitalist. His son is a moronic spoiled brat, with no actual talents aside from a prodigious hunger for drugs. His wife whitewashes her reputation at the right hand of evil through a charitable foundation. They abuse and ignore Griff, a faithful family servant. The doctors and scientists have moral concerns but always kowtow to their corporate overlords.They all get what's coming to them before “Death of a Unicorn” is over. You can definitely argue that some of Scharfman's gags are a little too broad. Shep's fondness for mind-altering substances results in bigger and crazier jokes that might be a little too goofy. However, for the most part, I enjoyed the cultural satire at work here. If the last decade has taught us nothing else, it's that the avarice and conceited stupidity of the billionaire ruling class is beyond parody. 

Scharfman is not subtle about his influence. He includes repeated shout-outs to “Aliens,” in the teenage daughter's name and multiple sequence of hunters being tracked by their prey. Spielberg was obviously on his mind as well, “Death of a Unicorn” recalling “Jurassic Park” more the longer it goes on. In fact, the movie strikes me as rather Amblin-esque. The opening shot of the film is of Ridley falling asleep on her dad's shoulders, which he moves away from in pursuit of a contract on the floor. Throughout the film, Elliot references how much money he can earn from this deal, in order to provide a future for his daughter. Like Peter Pan in “Hook,” and the workaholic parents in a dozen other family flicks, Elliot is fixated on money and his job. He uses this as a placeholder for the obvious emotional chasm between him and his daughter, as a way to avoid grappling with the grief of his wife's death. Naturally, through the events of the film, Elliot will reconnect with his daughter. I think the script takes it too easy on the dad, who is often far more emotionally clueless than any parent should be and far too complacent in other blatantly evil acts. However, if you can buy into the gulf between father and daughter here, the emotional arc of “Death of a Unicorn” is surprisingly heartfelt and sincere. 

As someone obviously way too invested in folklore, I found myself hoping “Death of a Unicorn” would lean into the weirder medieval conceptions of its titular beast. I'm happy to report that the unicorns here have the whipping tails and billy goat beards, with the welcomed addition of serrated fangs. The script does not stray far from the mythological roots. The cycle of death and  resurrection, and the creatures' irresistible connection to a virgin maiden, are well represented. Perhaps the film can be criticized for merely doing the stuff it's already told us its going to do. Sure. At the same time, a lot of fun is had contrasting the modern idea of unicorns as magical friends to all children and their wilder roots. There's quite a lot of impalings with those single horns, the script repeatedly finding clever new ways to have the creatures gorily execute the film's villains. That includes some disemboweling and head-crushing too. If you can't have fun with that stuff, I guess you and I simply have different ideas of what's entertaining.

It also helps that “Death of a Unicorn” has a stacked cast. This is one of those films that fills its ranks with beloved character actors and stars and allows them to play totally to type. Richard E, Grant is hilariously despicable as Leopold, digging into much of his dialogue with the kind of vigor he excels at. Will Poulter plays Shep as a bumbling golden child and manages to wring repeated laughs out of the selfish behavior and dopey dialogue he's given. Anthony Carrigan is often hilarious as Griff, the most put-upon of put-upon butlers in recent memory. Jenna Ortega plays another alienated teenager struggling to connect emotionally with their parent. It's a role she's quickly getting typecast in but she does go through the beats nicely. Paul Rudd enters the film looking like the Angry Video Game Nerd.and probably gives the silliest performance, with a few too many obvious quirks for the character to register as a real person. Still, Rudd has an affable screen presence that eventually wins you over. 

Larry Fong, Zack Snyder's go-to cinematographer, creates some lovely visuals. The sweeping mountain setting and meticulously designed sets are beautifully photographed. The film gets a surprising amount of mileage out of unicorns running through the mist, blinding lights, and infrared shots. This is tied with some psychedelic colors and dreamscapes. Some of the CGI isn't flawless but I do enjoy the practical monster unicorn effects we get throughout. “Death of a Unicorn's” satire is definitely, probably too on-the-nose and it can't make every emotional beat of its story hit exactly right. However, it's also an enjoyable horror/comedy that makes a creditable threat out of long-since neutered mythological concept. Considering Piney's “monoceros” was certainly describing a rhinoceros, this is a idea I'm surprised nobody had really done before. Maybe I'm simply too much of a folklore nerd and a sloppy monster kid at heart to resist whatever charms this one had. I'm fine with that. [7/10]

The Phantom Creeps (1939)

Between 1914 and 1964, Universal Pictures would make 146 serials. Basically the Netflix shows of their era, designed to get people to come back to the theater every week, these cinematic series have been forgotten by all but the most devoted of classic movie nerds. However, at least one of these serials has had an odder legacy. Unsurprisingly, there was some crossover between Universal's serials and their horror movies. 1939's “The Phantom Creeps” would star Bela Lugosi, giving this one a little bit of a cult following. It also fell into the public domain, surely being broadcast on many creature feature shows in the sixties and seventies. That's probably how the young Mr. Robert Zombie first saw it and why he gave the serial's distinctive robot menace a key role in his “Dragula” music video. The machine went on to become something of a mascot of Zombie's, extending “The Phantom Creeps'” legacy – or at least the legacy of that ugly-ass robot – a lot further than it otherwise would've gone. Some have even gone so far as to consider “Dr. Zorka's Iron Man” a Universal Monster. That means I had to watch it! 

“The Phantom Creeps” exists in two forms: The original serial, totaling four hours and twenty-five minutes, and a 78 minute feature cut, assembled for TV broadcast in 1949. I watched both, naturally. Either version follows the same story: Mad scientist Dr. Zorka has discovered a new element from a meteor. He's fashioned an array of fantastical weapons from it: A belt that grants invisibility, that eight foot tall robot, a gas that induces a death-like state, little robot spiders attracted to radioactive disks, and a laser gun called a Z-Ray. After he inadvertently kills his wife and fakes his own death, Zorka promises to unleash his vengeance on the world. (With the help of Monk, his incompetent and cowardly henchman.) Government man Captain West, hot-shot reporter Jean Drew, and former colleague Dr. Mallory try to stop Zorka's plan. Meanwhile, spies for an enemy nation seek the element for their own purposes.

My exposure to old time movie serials has, admittedly, been limited. However, I've certainly read plenty about the cliches of the format. “The Phantom Creeps” does nothing to dispel these pre-conceived notions. The serial sacrifices pacing, ambiance, and often coherence in favor of constant action. Nearly every episode features a car chase or a shoot-out. There are multiple plane crashes across the twelve parts and a speed boat crash too. The plot essentially sees Zorka's mysterious element trading hands between himself, the heroes, and the spies. “The Phantom Creeps” repeats this pattern over and over again across its twelve installments. Sometimes, the element is swapped between the different parties multiple times within the same episode. Such as in the improbable plot turn of Zorka renting an apartment right above the secret hide-out of the spy ring. Shit like that reminds you that these serials were basically made for kids, an audience that could accept unlikely developments like Zorka discovering a hitchhiker that looks just like him or pulling a number of amazing inventions out of this one magic rock.

Of all the contrivances of the classic serials, none is more notorious than the cliffhangers. Each chapter must end with the heroes having fallen into a seemingly inescapable sort of peril. “The Phantom Creeps” deserves points for creativity. The good guys are left in planes and cars and even a boat that crash and burns. Zorka also derails a train they're riding on, pulls electric wires down onto their heads, throttles Captain Bob with his killer robot, and tricks them into crossing a bridge about to be dynamited. No matter how fatal each of these events may appear, the heroes emerge unharmed at the start of the next chapter. Getting out of the cockadoodie car is one thing. The characters emerging unharmed from the fiery wreckage of a train wreck or simply driving through the explosive hazards is harder to swallow. This pattern is designed to keep viewers coming back next week. To modern eyes, it makes “The Phantom Creeps” seem utterly devoid of tension. No matter how elaborate the danger, no one will actually be hurt.

When you combine that with the repetitive plot, “The Phantom Creeps” quickly becomes a tedious experience. When contrivances like the G-men driving by the spies on the same road occur, leading to yet another car chase, you feel exhausted. Moreover, constantly going right up to something truly crucial happening only to pull back makes the series feel like a perpetual tease. Whenever you feel like that murderous robot is finally going to do something, the story goes back into a holding pattern. Any time the plot threatens to get truly exciting, the story returns back to the mundane settings of Zorka's lair or Dr. Mallory's suburban home. Most of the characters are men in suits and fedoras, often making it difficult to keep track of which group has the MacGuffin at any given time. I often forgot whether I was watching Captain Bob or his sidekick or the gang of foreign agents. The characters that are memorable are rendered less likable by their repeatedly foolish actions. Monk attempts to betray or dessert Zorka multiple times but the mad scientist never disposes or fires his cowardly henchman. Or the spies seem happy to let the Lois Lane-ian heroine go at one point. It's hard to be too invested in what happens when the characters are this dumb and indistinct.

At the same time, I am tempted to forgive “The Phantom Creeps” for its dumber, more tedious trespasses. It should go without saying that Bela hams it up to glorious heights as Dr. Zorka. Honestly, his expression when being exposed to his own gas, threatening Monk with bodily harm, or being shocked when he accidentally derails a whole train brought me more entertainment than anything else across these four hours. I was also repeatedly amused by Monk's ability to absorb multiple gunshot wounds without any consequences. Fast-talking, adventurous lady reporters almost always win me over and Dorothy Arnold plays that role nicely here. Once “The Phantom Creeps” finally stops fucking around in its final part, its constant action is finally given some weight. The perpetually scowling Iron Man takes on a small army and goes up in spectacular fashion. Bela unleashes his wrath via bombs dropped from a bi-plane, resulting in a lot of stock footage from the crash of the Hiddenburg and World War II combat. That chaotic final act is deliriously violent enough almost to make up for the extremely stupid way our villain is undone.

Ultimately, “The Phantom Creeps” has limited charms. Bela is giving it his all. Watching him lurk around a cobweb strewn lab, make himself invisible, or brood over bubbling chemicals isn't without its value. Edward Von Sloan plays the leader of the spy ring. There's some novelty in seeing him as a bad guy, despite the disappointing lack of interaction he has with Lugosi. Honestly, Rob Zombie definitely stole the most memorable element from this serial. That towering robot, with its perpetually scowling face and stiffly moving arms, is amusingly goofy. The serial repeatedly trying to turn such an awkward, comical creature into a creditable threat results in some chuckles. The full length serial quickly becomes a slog to get through. The abbreviated version operates more like a best-of reel than a coherent narrative, though it is slightly more digestible. Will I continue to hold onto the Blu-Ray simply to say my Universal Monsters collection is as comprehensive as possible? Obviously the answer is yes. [5/10]

 

 

Alfred Hitchcock Presents: The Glass Eye
 

Far back within the reaches of human history, a person realized they could make it seem like their voice was coming from a source other than their own throats. This skill was originally used during religious ceremonies. At some point, somebody fashioned a piece of wood into a crude representation of the human form and, using the same talent, made it appear like this facsimile was alive and talking with its own voice. Presumably five minutes after that, somebody else realized this was all kind of weird. And so the proud narrative tradition of creepy ventriloquist dummies emerged. In 1944, John Keir Cross published the short story "The Glass Eye" and its fine and unsettling twist ending surely caught the attention of Alfred Hitchcock and his team. He would host an adaptation of the tale – with Robert Stevens directing – as the premiere episode of the third season of "Alfred Hitchcock Presents."

An unusually subdued William Shatner appears as our narrator, cleaning out the belongings of his late spinster sister, Julia. Upon discovering a glass eye, he relates the tale behind it: On one of the rare occasions where she ventured out into the world, Julia took her bratty nephew to a show. There, the famous ventriloquist Max Collodi and his dummy George performed. Julia immediately became infatuated with Collodi, quitting her job to follow his performances around the country. She wrote to him obsessively, requesting a meeting, and included a photograph of herself when she was younger. After many rejections, Collodi finally agreed to see her, in a darkened room and only for five minutes. This preceded a horrifying discovery. 

Most stories of devious dummies and malevolent marionettes usually go the route of the puppet being imbued with life through supernatural means or representing the fractured psyche of the ventriloquist. "The Glass Eye" goes a slightly different route, its shock ending nevertheless probably being easily guessed by most savvy modern viewers the minute they get a look at "George." (Or notice a specific name in the credits.) Either way, Stevens' direction and John L. Russell's moody cinematography keeps this captivating. The climatic meeting between Julia and the object of her desire plays out in a shadowy room, the sole source of light upon the ventriloquist's table. The reveal plays out like a nightmare come to life, conveying the odd circumstances strictly through tight close-ups and sudden emergencies. If nothing else, the episode does a good job of impressing on the viewer how psychologically devastating Julia finds these uncanny events. 

It leads up to a rather melancholy epilogue, the sadness of which Hitchcock's typically morbid quips in the host segments can't defuse. Creepy as it definitely is, "The Glass Eye" mostly strikes me as a deeply sad story of how self-loathing unavoidably goes hand-in-hand with the need for human contact. Jessica Tandy plays Julia as someone crippled by her fears of being judged by others. She considers herself an old, used-up woman that is unlovable to the world, despite Tandy being all of 47 at the time and hardly a crone. Still, she hopes for a partner to touch. She falls in love with Collodi from afar, seeing the handsome ventriloquist as an ideal figure she can reach out to. Despite her devotion, she still fears rejection by him and sends a younger photo. The bitterly ironic ending is that her celebrity crush isn't even real, that the true puppeteer is somebody else who clearly fears rejection and hides from the world as well, and that her need to hold and treasure undoes her own fantasies. You could apply a lot of these themes to our modern world of NEETs, "stan culture," and parasocial relationships. That proves that good writing is immortal and "The Glass Eye" remains potent to this day. [8/10]

The Addams Family: Morticia's Romance: Part 1

With the start of its second season, I suppose the writers decided it was time to flesh out the Addams Family's backstory a little bit. This necessitated the show's first two-part episode. On the night of Gomez and Morticia's thirteenth anniversary, the kids gather around for their parents to relate the story of how they met. At the age of 22, Gomez was a bachelor with no interest in women and perpetually congested sinuses. Grandmama, sick of her son being alone, conspired with her old schoolmate Hester Frump to arrange a marriage between their children. Ophelia Frump is happy to marry Gomez but he has no attraction to the super-strong, wide-eyed girl... Her twin sister Morticia, on the other hand, immediately captures his attention. The two fall in love quickly and wish to wed but don't know how to break this news to their mothers. Gomez consults Cousin Itt for advice on how to get out of this dilemma, the hairball suggesting a suicide pact. 

"Morticia's Romance" essentially operates as something of an origin story for the kooky, creepy brood. It clarifies that Grandmama is Gomez' mother and Itt is his cousin, while stating again that Fester is Morticia's uncle. It seems Lurch and Thing were already lurking around the house by this point. The episode has great fun re-introducing as many of the family's quirks as possible. It turns out Wednesday is the spitting image of her mother, who was also fond of pigtails, maxi-skirts, and decapitated dolls. The episode shows Gomez meeting Cleopatra – just a sprout at the time – and Kitty Kat, while Morticia stumbles upon Zelda the Vulture. The mention of Gomez' pet octopus or Itt and Fester appearing on-screen are clearly meant to be cheer-worthy moments too. While Morticia seems simply like a shyer version of herself at this age, Gomez is far more neurotic and antisocial. Save for his love of exploding toy trains, he doesn't develop into the passionate, boisterous, French-loving gentleman we know until Morticia lights his flame. Yeah, I can relate to that. Sometimes, it takes meeting your other half to give you the confidence needed to come out of your shell. 

The episode also expands the Addams Family a little bit. In what surely must have been the first big guest star the show went after once it became a success, Margaret Hamilton appears as Gomez' soon-to-be mother-in-law. Of course, the Wicked Witch of the West is Morticia Addams' mom. We also meet Ophelia, the twin sister also played by Carolyn Jones. (Resulting in the required shot of the two standing across from each other in a horizontal shot.) The idea that someone would be too eccentric for Gomez must've presented a challenge. The show resolves this by making Ophelia brightly dressed, enthusiastic about nearly everything, and gifted with a penchant for judo. You'd think his partner regularly beating him up – or shrilly playing a broken violin – would be right up Gomez' alley. I guess Morticia sparked his love of sadomasochism too. If nothing else, Jones clearly delights in a chance to play the opposite of the soft-spoken and reserved Morticia. 

There's some solid gags here too. A conversation between Gomez and Ophelia while she cleans the series of dishes she shattered leads to some amusing visual jokes. The same can be said of Fester's introduction. The extremely bleak joke the episode ends off on is another example of this show being edgier than I'd expected. I guess cracking wise about committing suicide was a lot more common in the sixties than I realized. Another example of this subversive streak is that Gomez gifts Morticia a lacy nightgown as an anniversary present. The two are clearly about to get up to some not-fit-for-prime-time activities when the kids barge in. Despite the separate beds, the fact that Gomez and Morticia Addams fuck can never be ignored. The only element of this episode that seems wrong to me is the reveal that these two have only been together for thirteen years, meeting when both were merely twenty-two. I guess I'm accustomed to the Addams as quasi-immortal beings, untouched by time, as suggested in the nineties film. Am I truly meant to believe that these two are younger in their prime than I am now and not ageless entities that have prospered for eons? Oh, also it's weird that this was the second episode of the second season when it was clearly meant to operate as the premiere. I guess they didn't want to open the sophomore year on a two-parter? [7/10]

Director Report Card: Leigh Whannell (2025)

4. Wolf Man

After the success of Whannell's "Invisible Man," Universal would announce a whole slate of new films based around their classic monster movies. In the five years since then, only a few of these have made it in front of audiences and none have been especially successful at the box office. One of those proposed projects was a new remake of "The Wolf Man," to be written and directed by the guy who started this new wave of remakes, Leigh Whannell. Scheduling conflicts intervened. Ryan Gosling, of all people, pitched his own idea to Universal and invited along his "Blue Valentine" director, Derek Cianfrance. While a big star like Gosling and an acclaimed filmmaker like Cianfrance surely had an interesting take on the material, this version also fell through. With a new theme park to promote, Universal quickly sought Leigh Whannell back out. I guess his "Wolf Man" was always destined to be the next one. It's the first big horror release of 2025 and, for old monster-heads like myself, a source of major curiosity. 

Blake grew up in the isolated Oregon woods with his survivalist father. While on a hunting trip, the two had a frightening encounter with something inhuman. Thirty years later, Blake is living in the city with his journalist wife, Charlotte, and their precocious daughter, Ginger. He receives a letter informing him that his dad, missing for some time, has been declared dead. Hoping a trip to the country will ease some tension in the marriage, the three head out for Oregon to clean out the property. While driving to the house, Blake swerves off the road to avoid a man-like figure. The family barely escapes being attacked by the creature after fleeing the crash site. Holed up in Blake's childhood home, the three spend the night in fear of what's outside... But what's inside is just as dangerous, as Blake is slowly undergoing a similar transformation, becoming a monster out of legend. 

I suspect that, when tasked to write a new take on "The Wolf Man," Whannell and his co-writer – his wife, Corbett Tuck – searched for a fresh take on the werewolf concept. Most lycanthropy stories go the supernatural route, following in the footsteps of the rules mostly created by Curt Siodmak for the original "Wolf Man." Maybe reality did the inspiring for them though, as the script was supposedly conceived during the COVID-19 pandemic. Whannell presents the idea of the werewolf curse as an infectious disease. It's a bloodborne virus that spreads through cuts and bites, slowly changing the infected's body and neurological state. It's characterized repeatedly as a fever, dispelling most every paranormal association with the werewolf concept. This "Wolf Man" contains no full moons, pentagrams, or blooming wolfsbane. It's as grounded a werewolf movie as you're likely to get, as bold a reinvention of a classic monster as Whannell's "Invisible Man" was.

However, a fear of disease is not what this "Wolf Man" is truly about. Instead, the anxieties that motivate the story are much more personal. The glimpses we get of Blake's childhood shows him frightened of his own father, a strict and paranoid man that clearly kept his son under tight control. Now a parent himself, Blake never wants to be like his dad. He reminds his daughter Ginger, on a daily basis, how much he loves her. When she does something foolish, the way kids are prone to do, he yells at her before immediately apologizing. He wants to be a caring, loving, emotionally understanding and available dad. His rejection of traditional macho tactics are signaled by him allowing his daughter to put make-up on his face or being a stay-at-home dad while his wife is at work. The opening flashback is set in 1995, putting Blake right in the millennial demographic, and he clearly has the common anxieties of that age group: Traumatized by his asshole boomer parent and desperate not to repeat those same mistakes.

In other words, Blake's greatest fear is becoming his dad. The werewolf archetype has often been interpreted as about the duality of man. Whether it is repressed sexual urges or a deeper savage nature, the wolf has always represented the parts of ourselves we are most afraid of showing. Naturally, once he's bitten, this means Blake immediately begins to yell at his wife and kid, causing them to stare in confusion. He's not himself, a twitching and temperamental man who literally can no longer communicate with those dearest to him. By the time he's a hairy, growling beast, his transformation into an abusive parent and husband is complete. The lingering fear that he's just as capable as his dad was of being a beast has come true. 

Which suggest another question: Are we all doomed to become our parents eventually? Being in roughly the same age group as the film's protagonist, it's a neurotic worry I've had too. Have all the flaws of my father that made my childhood difficult been bred into me? Upon returning to the Oregon woods, Blake and family meet a childhood friend of his, who carries a rifle around as an everyday accessory. This concerns city girl Charlotte but Blake reassures her that, in the country, everybody has a gun. The place he comes from is still indebted to older ideas about manly men killing and hunting to protect their own. In other words, this world is still a part of Blake, no matter how hard he's worked to disguise that. Whannell's "Wolf Man" most connects to the Lon Chaney classic and subsequent adaptations with these Daddy Issues themes. Blake is nearly dragged back into the wild by another wolf man whose true identity is no surprise, the need to behave a certain way and do certain things calling to him.

If we are all doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past, perhaps it's a somewhat inevitable fate. The first proper shot of the movie is of a wasp being torn apart by a horde of ants. Stefan Duscio's sweeping cinematography draws attention to the natural beauty of the Oregon woods. There are multiple shots of the mountains in the distance, the fogs creeping around the trees and peaks. It's beautiful but, as Blake's dad reminds him early on, it's also dangerous. A key shot shows the moving van winding through the country roads, surrounded by trees on all sides. Compared to their urban apartment, the country home is without comfort, with rotten meat hung up in the freezer and a rickety generator providing fickle electricity. The opening flashback could be a short film in its own regard, father and son pinned down by some sort of cryptozoological threat deep in the woods. That Blake has a daughter, instead of a son, that he ultimately becomes a threat too seems important. Not only does he fear becoming his dad, he fears becoming a wild man, embracing the savagery of the natural world and inflicting it on the women in his life. 

The conflict between men and women represents probably the most underwritten part of the movie. Whannell's "Wolf Man" is ambitious, about disease and parenthood and marriage, meaning one of its themes was always going to be underserved. Charlotte expresses a concern that she can't relate to her daughter anymore, while clearly referencing some growing tension with her husband. Why Charlotte and Blake are having problems is never exactly addressed. Clearly, however, we are meant to believe that they love each other anyway. The characters say as much. Julia Garner, while believable as a mother determined to protect her kid, never sells the idea that she is in love with this man. A key moment involves Charlotte attempting to communicate with a bedridden Blake, who is already undergoing his transformation, recalling many examples of people desperate to talk with loved one's on a ventilator during the pandemic. Blake can't hear her though. The film will periodically give us glimpses into his head. He's seeing and hearing things like a wolf now, with extra-sensitive hearing and smell, seeing fields of light and color invisible to a normal human's eyes. Notably, he can see the veins under the skin of his wife and daughter, the blood his wolf side craves right there. 

This is paired with a heavy dose of body horror, Blake's teeth falling out, his fingernails being torn off and replaced with talons, his jaw cracking into a new location. Like all modern body horror stories, "Wolf Man" owes something to Cronenberg. To learn "The Fly" is one of the films Whannell had his crew watch before filming began is not surprising, as you can see it's a clear influence. (Especially in the climax, which clearly recalls the 1986 remake.) However, "The Fly" works because it's a believable love story. The bond between Blake and Charlotte never seems to come to life. That his transformation happens over the course of an entire night seems to rush the characters' through their emotional arc. That the film will take us inside Blake's head suggests a story split in two. Whannell wanted to make a Cronenbergian story of a man changing into something else. He also wanted to tell the tale of the man's wife and daughter surviving this change. The split in focus damages both elements of the film, the love story and the sense of what is being lost never quite coming across. 

The half of "Wolf Man" that's a tragic story of a marriage falling apart, amid a virus-induced wolf out, doesn't totally succeed. The half that is a siege picture, about a trio trying to keep a werewolf out of the strange house they're locked inside, works a lot better. Something incredibly smart the movie does is quickly establish the settings that most of the story will take place in. There's a deer blind that bookends the film. On the property is a triangular, quietly foreboding farm house, a barn, and a simple green house with vinyl walling. Each of these locations are used in a suspense sequence, with the green house setting up a rather clever way. Limiting most of the movie to so few locations was both a smart budgetary decision. It also allows the audience to be more aware of the limited resources the characters have at their disposal. These are the only places they have to hide and all of them have few defenses for a clawed beast eager to get inside.

The mastery of fright and suspense sequences that Whannell showed off in his previous monster reboot is still on display here. The director has a good eye for when to keep stuff off-screen and when to viscerally thrust it into our face. This is very true of the opening scene, in which we get nothing but brief glimpses of a hairy humanoid and see its breath over the edge of a tree house wall, a rather tense sequence. The scene where the family is locked in the crashed truck, as the creature approaches, builds fantastically, also only giving us small peeks at the monster. A later moment is built around Charlotte desperately trying to start up a truck. It's a drawn out scene, a series of mundane actions, that builds towards an excellently revealed shocked and the first proper look we get at the title monster. From that point on, “Wolf Man” is an in-your-face monster movie, featuring some disturbingly gory gags. Including a bit that plays as both a homage to the 1944 “Wolfman” and Whannell's first horror hit.

Keeping the cast so limited is another example of how economical the film's writing is. There's truly only about five characters in the film, with most of the scenes only being concerned with the central trio of Blake, Charlotte, and Ginger. Christopher Abbott, quickly becoming the go-to leading man for genre projects in need of a neurotic star, projects Blake's anxieties as he succumbs to this sickness. He also has strong chemistry with Matilda Firth as Ginger, an adorable little moppet that you immediately want to see protected. That the script lets Julia Garner down a bit is no fault of her's, as she certainly shows off a strong spirit whenever facing down a werewolf, wielding a rifle, or trying to get an engine to turn over. One imagines, if given a more proactive role like the heroine in Whannell's last monster movie, she would have gotten far more chances to shine. 

I'm already seeing reviews from classic monster movie fans expressing disappointment with this new “Wolf Man,” for being such a radical reinvention of the classic character. When a glimpse at a costume of the new make-up was revealed at one of the Universal theme parks last year, many people were disappointed. Indeed, by taking such a grounded approach to the idea, Whannell has delivered a beast that is far more man than wolf. The make-up is, as far as these things go, fairly low-key. It's the kind of physical transformation that, if not for the speed with which it occurs, would probably be quite plausible. However, within the context of this approach, I believe it works. The subtle shifting of Abbott's face is nicely uncanny, implying a wolf-like state through the shape of the bones under the skins. It might not hurt if you go in expecting something that looks a little more Henry Hull than Lon Chaney Jr. though. 

Having a lot of ideas on its mind at once is not the worst sin a horror movie can commit. Whannell's “Wolf Man” would probably be a better movie if it was only about disease, or parental anxieties, or childhood trauma, or a dissolving marriage, or simply a siege picture about trying to keep a monster out. The film does performs some of these ideas better than others. However, the reboot still has a committed cast in its corner, several impressively tense moments, and some fine cinematography and make-up. If nothing else, it's a new take on a familiar concept. Unlike the last “Wolfman” Universal made, hopelessly scrambled by executive meddling, it's clear that Whannell made exactly the movie he wanted here. This classic monster nerd found this one to have more positive than negative traits. [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: Leigh Whannell (2020)

3. The Invisible Man

Out of the ashes of the Dark Universe – Universal's latest and most disastrous attempt in a series of failed attempts to retrofit their classic monster characters for modern tastes – arose an actual good idea: Hey, what if we dismiss with the mega-sized budgets and star studded cast and cinematic universe and just, ya know, actually make horror movies about these guys? Jason Blum expressed interest in taking over and Universal jumped right on that suggestion. An "Invisible Man" originally meant to be some superhero-like project starring Johnny Depp was quickly turned into a modestly budget horror movie written and directed by Leigh Whannell. Instead of facing the same fate as “Dracula Untold” or Alex Kurtzman's “The Mummy,” Whannell's “The Invisible Man” received excellent reviews and made a pretty penny against its seven million dollar budget. A few years after the hype, how does this classic monster remake hold up now?

In the dead of night, Cecilia flees the compound where she lives with her aggressively abusive and controlling husband, Adrian Griffin. While living with her police officer friend, she receives some shocking news: Adrian is dead, from an apparent suicide. Cecilia stands to inherit a fortune from his optics engineering company, under the condition she commits no crimes and is not declared mentally ill. That is when strange things begin to happen. Accidents and strange events happen around the home. Cecilia's sister receives an inflammatory letter that she has no memory of writing. Her friend's daughter is punched in the face by an unseen force, Cecilia being blamed. Cecilia begins to suspect that Adrian is not dead at all but is still harassing, stalking, and tormenting her. Which would only be possible if the man somehow found a way to turn himself invisible... Soon, Cecilia is fighting for her own sanity and the lives of those she loves from a threat she can't see. 

Most of Universal's earlier monster movie reboots made the macabre characters threats within an action packed adventure. Stephen Sommers' big budget affairs or the stillborn Dark Universe made the mummy or Dracula threats against action hero stars. Or Dracula himself simply became an action hero. Even Joe Johnston's ill-fated remake of "The Wolf Man" had the titular monster as its protagonist. In an effort to re-enforce his "Invisible Man" as a horror movie, Leigh Whannell instead centers the story on the monster's victim. This is a big change from both H.G. Wells' novel and James Whale's 1933 adaptation, where the unseen madman was more-or-less the lead character. Instead, Whannell touches upon a clever idea: An invisible man is easily a terrifying thought if you are a vulnerable woman. It's an approach that does what so many previous remakes failed to do, successfully reinventing the character for the modern age. 

This "Invisible Man" would come out in a post-#MeToo world, where terms like "gaslighting," "narcissistic personality disorder," and "love bombing" had entered the popular lexicon in a big way. It's become all too clear how many people's lives, and how much of our society in general, is directed by manipulative men telling us to doubt what we know is true. Whannell's film places its protagonist at the center of an elaborate web of deception and control. Her stalker goes to extraordinary lengths to have everyone around Cecilia believe she's crazy or dangerous. This behavior isolates her from those she loves and that care about her, that can protect her from his manipulations. Slowly, this man takes all her hope and freedom away from her, using fear and violence, until she has no option left but to return back to him. It's a story any of us have heard before, of friends or loved ones at the will of men who seek to rob them of their individuality. 

A key scene has Cecilia, sitting in a seemingly empty house but talking to the stalker she knows is there, asking Adrian why he inflicts this torture on her. Her abuser is a billionaire tech CEO, who surely has access to any woman he could want. It's an exchange that makes this invisible man a much more commonplace type of psychopath than the Doctor Griffins that have come before. Most previous "Invisible Man" stories function on the idea that a man becoming unseen, and thus untouched by society's rules, would make him an amoral monster that eventually seeks world domination. Adrian Griffin is already a sociopath before he becomes unseen and he only seeks to dominate one thing: The woman who refuses to be his. That a tech company leader displays these personality traits is no surprise these days but a man doesn't have to be that rich and powerful to want to break the spirit of his spouse. He simply has to be powerful enough to hurt a single person, the one close enough to him. 

You can certainly argue that Whannell's "Invisible Man" is the type of well intentioned but misguided sort of story men write, that bring attention to how women are abused by showing all that suffering on-screen. I would argue that the film stays on the right side of that divide by always making sure the audience is feeling the same things Cecilia is. Like her, we all know that the seemingly improbable thing she believes – that her ex is still alive and is now invisible – is true, despite everyone around her saying it can't be possible. That is, after all, exactly how a woman being gaslit feels. Another way the film grabs that feeling is with a solid suspenseful story structure that keeps you guessing. Each surprise feels like a personal betrayal, another rotten thing that Adrian has done to hurt Cecilia. When she discovers he's been hiding in the attic of the new home she's living in, revealing that information to her in an especially cruel way, the viewer feels as much as the mercy of this scheming sociopath as the character does. This continues in the second half, with more sharp surprises coming, each one catching us off-guard.

At the center of the film is an outstanding performance from Elizabeth Moss. Moss, with that glare of perpetual exhaustion on her face, certainly seems like a woman on the edge of breaking. As the script has her ranting about scenarios that seems impossible, it certainly seems like she's gone crazy. However, Cecilia is stronger than that. Throughout the film, as the situation escalates, she continues to keep fighting. The character only reveals herself to be more resourceful as the story progresses, going to some extremes to reveal her tormentor and get out of increasingly desperate situations. Moss strikes the right balance, between a woman thoroughly traumatized by what she's been through without losing her need to survive. She is both a victim, suffering through a lot, and a survivor, eventually emerging triumphant. In other words, Moss makes Cecilia a real person, complicated and with layers.

For a monster movie, "The Invisible Man" is kind of long, running over two hours. That slightly longer runtime does allow the movie to invest its supporting cast with a degree of heart. A lesser movie would play the relationship between Cecilia and James as a romantic one, a "good" man appearing to save her from the evil one attacking her. Instead, the two are strictly platonic friends, feeling more like a brother and sister. The quiet way James, as played by Aldis Hodge, makes it known that he cares about Cecilia are well-done. I also liked Storm Reid as Sid, his teenage daughter. The rapport she has with Cecilia in a few of the movie's more light-hearted, low-key moments – which a tighter runtime would have clipped out – makes you care about this sweet young girl. Moreover, the cast and script walk a fine line, making James and Sidney sympathetic after Adrian's manipulation drives them apart. You understand where they are coming from, without Cecilia seeming any less sympathetic. 

H.G. Wells' original novel and James Whale's movie both go with the idea that the invisibility is caused by a potion. This occurs throughout more modern homage too, such as "Hollow Man," where an injectable drug causes the transformation. Whannell finds a clever reinvention for this idea that feels more down-to-earth in a modern setting. Our invisible man wears a full-body suit, covered in camera lens and monitors, essentially broadcasting what's behind and in front of it at all times. While you still have to allow for a lot of creative license, this is still more-or-less the actual kind of technology militaries are using to try and create high-tech cloaking devices. If you miss an easily overlooked line about how Adrian Griffin runs an optics company, the exact nature of his ability comes off as a clever subversion too. It also allows for some clever visual moments, of this Invisible Man blinking in and out of the visible range of sight. 

The design for the suit brings with it some intriguing ideas. The suit Adrian wears renders him as a faceless silhouette. This takes the visual presentation of the original film – a man wrapped in bandages, which receives a cute homage here – far further. Now the impression of eyes, a nose, and a mouth are gone too, turning this Invisible Man into a vague silhouette both in and out of costume. The design of the suit, with its "skin" made of glassy and orb-like lens, brings internet memes about trypophonia to mind. It also makes this invisible figure clearly a man. When the expected shot of a silhouette of the attacker's body in the rain comes, it's a clear indicator that the design for this creature makes him a vague outline for any and all men, driving home the feminist themes. That this Invisible Man is as much a symbol for all abusive men everywhere as he is a very specific reflection of this dynamic.

Some may call bullshit on the themes that the movie presents. Maybe trying to cook these ideas into a classic monster reboot is too elevated for some. Or maybe they will find the underpinnings of the story, Whannell's thoughts on men and women and control and abuse, to be insincere. The ending could easily be read as either empowering or a cautionary tale, of a victim absorbing the habits of the person that hurt them. I'm mixed on that myself, seeing it more as a cathartic pay-off. In the horror genre, people can be consumed by their demons but they can defeat them too. Sometimes we need to see the latter, even if it's coming from a place of a man patting himself on the back for being one of the "good ones." At least the degree of ambiguity in the final climax gives the impression that we aren't suppose to think if Cecilia's actions are good or bad exactly, suggesting Whannell was more self-aware than that. Either way, the character of Cecilia and the film more than earns it. 

Whatever high-minded ambitions the film might have had for itself, none of them would matter much if it wasn't scary. Luckily, Whannell's years in the "Insidious" factory have given him an almost scientific formula for generating high-quality shocks. The cinematography, from Stefan Duscio, often assumes a distance and still approach, inviting the viewer to observe the frame for anything unusual happening around the characters or with the sets. This creates one of the film's quieter chilling moment, where you can spot a puff of breath over Cecilia's shoulder as she opens the door to her home. In other words, the film successfully creates a similar paranoia in the viewer as to what the character is feeling. The unseen attacker could be hiding anywhere or it could be nothing at all, creating a good sense of tension. 

That balance between quiet unease and louder shocks is well utilized throughout. The first time we get a glimpse of this Invisible Man's true form is a fine shock, utilizing the specific gimmick of this Universal Monster in a clever way. That scare was in the trailers but a later one decidedly was not, a good choice as it's an excellent bit of misdirection that successfully had me stunned when I saw it in theaters. A rewatch deludes that effectiveness a bit, if only because you know it's coming, but I still appreciate the craft on display. In the last third, Whannell and Duscio use some of the same action choreography tricks they used in "Upgrade" during an effectively hard-hitting display of what an invisible man can do to unprepared people. 

In other words, Whannall's "Invisible Man" is about as good a modern reboot of a classic horror property that you could hope for. It takes the seed of the original idea – one man, invisible – and finds a thoroughly modern take on it that appeals to contemporary audiences without losing what made it scary in the first place. It's also, so far, the only one of these reboots to really connect with audiences. As remnants of their Dark Universe plans, Universal announced that Elizabeth Banks was also attached to direct a remake of "The Invisible Woman" and it's unknown to what degree that one was meant to tie into this one. (The ending to this film certainly seems to set-up that idea but the original spin-off was a comedy, and humor is what Banks is best known for, I can't imagine a follow-up to this being a light-hearted romp.) I think COVID derailed plans for that and, as of now, Whannell's "The Invisible Man" remains a surprisingly clever and scary reinvention of a classic film with an excellent lead performance. [Grade: A]

Halloween 2024: October 30th

Frankie Freako (2024)

In 1987, he appeared without warning. Sightings were reported on cable channels, especially late-night MTV. A strange, yellow figure awkwardly dancing on the screen, advertising a phone number but with little else information about the product at hand, announced itself as Freddie Freaker. Despite being the decade populated by many bizarre 1-900 numbers, this was a notably weird commercial. Forgotten for years, in the new millennium, the spot got uploaded to Youtube and slowly became a meme. It's not hard to guess that Freddie Freaker was probably inspired by “Gremlins” and its numerous knock-offs. This cycle would come full circle this year, with the latest film from Steven Kostanski of “Psycho Goreman” and “The Void” fame. “Frankie Freako” clearly takes inspiration from the infamous commercial while also paying homage to the likes of “Ghoulies,” “Munchies” and “Critters.” Being a fan of Kostanski's previous work and what I call eighties lil' monsters movies – not to mention also finding Freddie Freaker captivatingly strange – I knew I had to check this one out. 

Conor Sweeney works an unexceptional job in an office building and enjoys a sexless marriage with his beautiful, gun-obsessed wife. He's satisfied with his bland existence but, after his boss asks him to commit tax fraud, he's criticized for being boring. Incensed at the criticism, he begins to see television commercials for a phone hotline. It advertises Frankie Freako, a Boglin-like rocker available to spice up your dull life. While the missus is away at an art show, Conor calls this hotline. This invites Frankie and the other Freakos – cowgirl Dottie and gadgeteer  Boink – into his home. The rude, crude, party dudes make a wreck of uptight Conor's home. This is only the beginning of an adventure that will see Conor making new friends, travelling to an enslaved alien world, being forced into a harem, battling evil, and learning how to loosen up.

To refer to "Frankie Freako" as a throwback to "Gremlins" and its also-rans isn't wrong. Any movie that has little rubber cretins running around and causing chaos owes something to Joe Dante's blockbuster. However, Kostanski is making a much more specific homage here. The talking, farting, partying Freakos seem a deliberate riff on "Ghoulies Go to College" turning the little monsters into  cartoonish party dudes. Meanwhile, "Frankie Freako" is clearly attempting to emulate the tone of a Moonbeam Entertainment movie. As in the kid-friendly sector of Charles Band's Full Moon Features. The film goes distressingly far to capture that particular look and feel. "Frankie Freako" feels like a kid's conception of a grown-up movie, with lots of crude but certainly juvenile humor. The Freakos' version of partying involves farting, drinking fart-flavor soda, listening to generic rock music loudly, and wrecking the house. The slapstick is intentionally pedestrian, the characters purposely exaggerated and dumb, the music is tinny and cheap. The limited suburban home sets and the wonky effects of the puppets similarly look right out of "Pet Shop" or "Remote." Once a fleet of little stiff robots, that easily could've appeared in "Demonic Toys," the connection in my mind was clear. 

Coming after the delightfully demented gore comedy of "Psycho Goreman," this tonal approach certainly caught me off-guard. However, there are certainly signs that this is more an ironic recreation than an actual product from the nineties. The characters in the film have a distressing obsession with firearms, the film repeatedly drawing attention to the numerous guns. That's taken to its extreme when Conor gets casually shot in the neck, bleeding out for a few additional scenes. The run-up to that non-sex scene feels like something out of a softcore flick. This inclusion of clearly inappropriate material, in fact, helps "Frankie Freako" feel more like an eighties or early nineties kids flick. Kostanski takes this further as the film goes on, with references to concubines, slaps on the ass, and an extended hanging by noose. A more deliberate sense of absurdity is apparent in several moments, such as a random appearance of a bear trap or an excessive amount of glue. This undertones of darker, weirder shit is the sign that "Frankie Freako" is a pastiche made by smart-ass genre enthusiast and not an actual children's film. 

But the question must be asked. Is "Frankie Freako" entertaining? If you are like me and have nostalgia for this very specific niche of pop culture, you will find the film's aesthetic faithfulness amusing. The cartoonish Frankie and the gang are not as funny as restrained intergalactic warlord Psycho Goreman, though Boink's catchphrase of "Shabba-Doo!" made me chuckle. The longer "Frankie Freako" goes on, the more evident it becomes this was made by the Astron-6 architects. The last third takes place on the dystopian Freako home world, featuring the oozing, pussing president of the world. The finale gets a big, goopy, freaky monster in it that is then dismembered, the effects being expertly deployed. Ultimately though, as amusing as "Frankie Freako's" subversion of its own tone is, I kept waiting for the movie to get meaner, weirder, and funnier. Kostanski's "ABCs of Death 2" segment perfectly captured an element of eighties kitsch before delving fully into weird, dark, grossness in service of a point about nostalgia. I kept waiting for "Frankie Freako" to reach that point but it never does. The film is content to operate as a more sarcastic, self-aware version of a Moonbeam movie with wackier special effects. 

Not that I didn't have a good time with "Frankie Freako." The specificity of what Kostanski is parodying here is appreciated. I laughed plenty of times. Conor Sweeney's performance is a masterclass in committing to the bit, playing every scene as intentionally the most vanilla human being to ever live. By the end, I'll admit, I had come around on finding the deliberately annoying Frankie somewhat endearing. If, for whatever reason, a movie had been built around Freddie Freaker, instead of a mere baffling commercial, this is probably a close proximity of what it would've been like. However, it is inevitably not as fully realized as Kostanski's previous features and can't help but feel like the filmmaker and friends are simply fucking around. At the same time, a pitch-perfect riff on "Munchie," as filtered through a Red Letter Media sensibility, isn't the kind of movie that I expected to ever exist. For that reason alone, I'm glad "Frankie Freako" is out there, partying as hard as he can. [7/10]

The Black Doll (1938)

The first classic monster movies produced by Universal Studios in the thirties were mostly the brain child of Carl Laemmle Jr., the son of the studio’s founder who became head of development in 1928. Laemmle Jr. was a savvy tastemaker, who pushed the company to embrace talkies and big budget productions. That last tendency bit “Junior” in the ass when 1936’s “Showboat” went wildly overbudget. That started a chain reaction that led to the Laemmles stepping down and aviation financer/polo champion J. Cheever Cowdin assuming control of the studios. And Cowdin must have hated monster movies. In-between the June 1936 release of “Dracula’s Daughter” and the January 1939 release of “Son of Frankenstein,” the studio didn’t make a single horror movie. During this two year period, Universal largely focused on cheap westerns, comedies, crime flicks, and mysteries. Despite the apparent abandonment of the genre, sometimes some horror ambiance would sneak into the whodunits of this era. Such as “The Black Doll,” the second film in a series Universal made based on the popular Crime Club pulp novels. 

Many years ago, Nelson Rood murdered a business partner in order to gain control of a successful mine. Only his other partners, Mallison and Walling, know this. At his secluded home, while arguing with his nephew about money, Rood discovers a black doll on his desk. His superstitious – and much abused staff – believe this to be an omen of death. Indeed, Rood is stabbed to death before the night is through. His daughter, Marion, is also attacked by a masked man outside the home. Marion’s boyfriend, Nick, is a private detective. While the bumbling local sheriff takes over control of the investigation, Nick digs up his own clues. He discovers a plethora of suspects, including Rood’s sister and her lover. That pesky black doll keeps reappearing throughout the night, preceding more murders. 

The mansion that “The Black Doll” takes place in doesn’t appear to be that old or all that dark. Despite that, the film still rests comfortably within the perimeters of that cinematic style. A thunderstorm blows in as the police arrive, lightning strikes and a downpour of rain continuing all throughout the night. There’s a neat sequence set in a shadowy, dusty attic where someone comes up through a trap door and the sheriff stumbles into a ghost-like sheet. Out in the rain, Marion is attacked by a man in a fedora and a face-obscuring mask, resembling “Dick Tracy’s” the Blank and subsequently the killer from “Blood and Black Lace.” Obviously, those murder scenes and the titular ominous plaything are the main horror elements here. The film invests the raggedy toy – the spitting image of a stereotypical voodoo doll – with a nice bit of dread, treating each appearance as a foreboding event. A knife being tossed into someone’s back and a strangled body tumbling out of a closest are as close as 1938 could get to a slasher flick. All these touches ensure that “The Black Doll” will be of interest to classic horror buffs like me. 

Old dark house movies were not only defined by creepy mansions and lurking killers in black hats. Slapstick comedy was another ingredient in this genre stew. Like the same year’s “The Missing Guest,” “The Black Doll” also features some overbearing comic relief that nearly destroys the whole movie. In this case, it’s Edgar Kennedy as Sheriff Renick, a big ol’ dumb-ass who stumbles through every scene he’s in. He bickers with his deputies, all of which are as big as hayseeds as he is. He intimidates witnesses with blustering threats. Kennedy does a few prat falls too. The character doesn’t effect the story in any significant way, only contributing to the film by being a foil for the smart-eyed Nick. In other words, if you cut this bumbling jerk out of ‘The Black Doll,” you would still have a decently functioning mystery. Meaning this guy was here primarily to ladle on the yuks. Perhaps I simply do not find incompetent law enforcement as hilarious as cinema goers in 1938 did. 

Aside from the utterly clownish Kennedy, “The Black Doll” proves to be a compelling whodunit. Donald Woods – who later appeared as Dr. Zorba in “13 Ghosts” twenty-two years after this – makes for a likable lead. He plays Nick as a guy who is obviously hyper-smart and observant but doesn’t like to brag about it. His skills as a detective mostly come through in light-hearted dialogue. (He also has a cute little white dog, making me wonder if Universal wasn’t attempting to ride the coattails of “The Thin Man” movies a bit.) The film presents a solid crowd of suspects, leaving the audience wondering who could possibly be the killer. Rood was such an asshole, essayed well by C. Henry Gordon in the early scenes, that there’s plenty of options for people who might want to knock him off. The climax of the movie is Nick making every breakfast and slowly dismantling the case for or against each person present. Not the most cinematic of endings a mystery could have but at least “The Black Doll” is smart enough to wrap things up only a few minutes afterwards.  

The Crime Club literary label that spawned “The Black Doll,” by the way, was an extremely long-lived and popular line. Doubleday began publishing books under that banner in 1928 and kept it going for sixty-three years, until 1991. In that time, over two thousand titles were published, including many entries in “The Saint” and “Fu Manchu” series. The cinematic Crime Club was not nearly that prolific. Only eleven films were made based on the books, most of which came out in 1938. Of the remaining titles, it doesn’t sound like any nudge into horror as much as “The Black Doll,” so I doubt I’ll be writing about them. However, I am glad I gave this one a look, as it has enough creaky classic horror atmosphere to keep my interest despite the best efforts of that buffoonish sheriff. [6/10] 

Stories to Stay Awake: El Televisor

Despite its prominent place in Spanish pop culture, "Historias para no dormir" only ran for twenty-six episodes in its original form. Narciso Ibanez Serrador returned sporadically to the program over the years, for a one-off special in 1974 and a brief four episode season in 1982. The premise was resurrected as a series of television movies, called "Films to Keep You Awake," in 2003. Notable Spanish directors like Alex de la Iglesia, Paco Plaza, and Jaume Balaguero contributed to that revival, which actually did get distributed over here. Two of those filmmakers would be involved with a more recent reboot, alongside other names like Rodrigo Cortes, Alice Waddington, and Nacho Vigalondo. Now translated as "Stories to Stay Awake," the new version would feature loose remakes of classic episodes, launching on the Spanish version of Amazon Prime in 2021. 

Balaguero would handle "El Televisor." Marcos, his wife Daniela, their daughter Carla, and toddler son Lucas move into a new home. After seeing a news report about squatters in the area, Marcos sees a shadowy figure in the pool house. He immediately buys a state-of-the-art security system. He becomes obsessed with protecting his home, watching the security feed on his phone or TV constantly, much to Daniela's concern. The strange activity continues, Marcos seeing strange people on the cameras, sinking more and more into his paranoia. Is it possible something supernatural is happening here?

"El Televisor" has some obvious social commentary on its mind. Marcos becoming fixated on the security system the minute he turns it on, always checking the feed on his phone and laptop, speaks to modern addictions to staring at a screen. The family is clearly pretty well-off, as they have a big pool and a tennis court on their property. That his paranoia is triggered simply by reports of people squatting in homes suggests a clear classist subtext. The mere thought of someone else using the amenities of his big, expensive home pushes the guy into an obsession. This comes at the expense of his relationship with his wife and kids. Daniela becomes increasingly concerned by his growing obsession, the kids eventually being endangered by him focusing on this over more obvious concerns. Eventually, "El Televisor" does move into the paranormal, suggesting Marcos' weird fascination isn't totally unfounded... At the same time, the idea that this is mostly an act of his rich guy ego lingers in the air.

As a fifty minute long horror movie, "El Televisor" is occasionally effective. The protagonist's paranoia seems largely unfounded but the idea of a strange, unseen intruder in your home is unsettling. The night vision shots of faces appearing before the camera are mildly spooky, even if the scares never quite hit. I found this more compelling as a story of a kind of clueless but otherwise harmless family man, played with an appealing everyman dumbness by Pablo Derqui, growing more unhinged. The final act pats off nicely on the various security features he set-up earlier in the episode. However, the ghosts being actually real seems to thematically middle the waters, though Balaguero knows how to turn the tension up. He definitely overestimates how scary the image of an old woman with a golf club is though. Still, this isn't a bad little chiller to watch in late October. [7/10]

Exposure (2024)

I came of age around the time the Patriot Act was signed. I recall the ensuing debates about personal privacy and whether the government had the right to spy on its own citizens that followed with some clarity. People were very angry. In the ensuing two decades, this argument has been put to rest: The majority of Americans don’t care. Many of them have willingly given up their own right to privacy by filling their pockets with cell phones and their houses with doorbell cameras and security systems. When the inevitable news stories about hackers infiltrating phones and IP cameras to watch or harass people breaks, it’s a wake-up call for a lot of folks that don’t realize what they are giving up when they click “Yes” on those user agreement forms. Earlier this year, a short film dramatizing such an event went viral. “Exposure” is told entirely through the wireless cameras around an average English household. A six year old girl is awoken from her sleep by a voice on her bedroom baby monitor. A man tells her he’s stuck in the camera and she needs to unlock the door so his friend can come free him. The naïve child complies, letting an intruder into the house that is detected by the girl’s mother far too late.

“Exposure” is essentially an update of “Take This Lollipop,” an interactive short that went similarly got passed around thirteen years prior. It depicts how easily our modern, constantly connected society can be infiltrated by predators, which has only grown easier the more online we all are. In this regard, its opening minutes are chilling. Using the night vision filter available on any camera, it shows a little girl rising from her bed and talking to the voice emerging from her nanny-cam. The filmmakers managed to find the most wide-eyed, adorable little moppet they could. The sequence of her easily being conned into leading a creeper into her own home cause a sense of nauseating tension to rise in the viewer. We can only speculate in horror as we helplessly watch these very bad events play out. 

If “Exposure” had stopped there, it would be an effective cautionary tale and suitably creepy. Instead, the short goes on for several minutes longer and hammers out any subtly its premise has. Much like the aforementioned decade-old Facebook meme, “Exposure” doesn’t leave its predator as a faceless voice on the internet. Instead, it shows us the face of a rat-like man with stringy hair, crooked teeth, and a honking nose. The most comically overblown idea of what a creepy weirdo could look like, in other words. The film seems to think this is unsettling, as the visage is repeatedly crammed into our face. Logic begins to falter as the girl’s mother doesn’t immediately get out of the house. “Exposure” leaping between all the different cameras in the house could have been a chilling criticism on how truly exposed these devices make us. Instead, it comes off as a cheap way for a found footage movie to violate its own gimmick but cutting to different camera angles. Especially once the little girl picks up her webcam as she flees. Why would she do that?!

The final moments of the short, where it shows other households falling victim to the same creeper, suggests a more insightful story could have been made from these ingredients. I think the general public’s willingness to let cameras into their own homes says a lot about our fear of our neighbors, corporations’ eagerness to exploit its customers, and everyone’s inescapable desire to watch and be watched in return. Instead, “Exposure” settles for being a simple scared-straight story, warning us to be cautious about what we broadcast to a hackable electronic gizmo. An admirable goal, for sure, as I believe a fair degree of paranoia around technology and the internet is quite healthy. (I was never going to allow a Ring device into my home or numb any child of mine to the realities of the surveillance state.) That doesn’t mean “Exposure” is necessarily good filmmaking though, despite the strength of its set-up and early scenes. [6/10]