Halloween 2017: October 11

Cat People (1982)

It's part of the horror fan rule book that you have to become outraged anytime a remake of a classic film is announced. I wonder what the reaction was in the eighties, when a string of classic horror flicks from the fifties and earlier were getting remade? Did fans take notice that respected directors like John Carpenter, David Cronenberg, and Paul Schrader were behind the cameras? Or did they bitch and moan about the original's legacies being shit on? If they did, it would've been a little funny. Now these remakes are regarded as classic themselves, often overshadowing the originals. Even Schrader's “Cat People,” which was greeted with mixed reviews and mediocre box office in 1982, has a healthy cult following today. Time makes fools of us all.

Schrader, directing a script from Bob Clark's old pal Alan Ormsby, deviates extensively from Val Lewton's original. In this version, Irena has moved to New Orleans to be reunited with her long lost brother, Paul. Soon after meeting him, Paul disappears again. Meanwhile, a black panther nearly maws a prostitute to death. The panther is captured by Oliver, a curator, and placed in the local zoo. Irena is drawn to the panther and, while visiting it, meets Oliver. After killing a zookeeper, the panther disappears  and her brother returns to Irena. He informs her that their bloodline is cursed. Whenever they feel lust, they transform into huge black cats. They can only return to human form after killing someone. Irena now must choose between the growing love she feels for Oliver and the animal fury growing within her.

Being made forty years later, Paul Schrader's “Cat People” can address the themes of repressed sexuality and Freudian desires that the original could only hint at. Instead of merely suggesting that Irena's transformation into a panther is linked with a frustrated sex drive, the remake makes this explicitly the case. She's a twenty year old virgin. Having sex means giving into a literal animal side. So, instead, she kills, as in a brilliant scene where she strips nude and hunts a rabbit through the night. This lends the film an intensely erotic atmosphere, built upon sexual longing and unresolved lust. The remake makes this perverse premise even kinkier by giving Irena a brother that sexually desires her, as the cat people can only avoid transforming by having sex with their own bloodline. So this is the film's moral: Sex is a wild and dangerous desire but, when repressed, it leads to depravity. That's a potent theme and one befitting Schrader's extremely Catholic writing style.

More sex and nudity weren't the only advantage age gave to this “Cat People.” The film was made around the same time as “An American Werewolf in London” and “The Howling,” two films that turned the werewolf transformation into gooey, graphic acts of body horror. Schrader's “Cat People” follows suit. The transformation, which is slowly revealed as the film progresses, involves the skin contorting and shifting before a panther burst free. These images – claws and fur stabbing through human skin – are undeniably unnerving. The remake doesn't skimp on the gore either, in intensely violent scenes like a panther tearing a zookeeper's arm off. Schrader isn't just focused on special effects. His film features some suspense too. The original's Letwon bus and pool stalking scene are reprised, impressively. A scene where a panther appears under a bed also taps into some classical nightmare imagery.

The remake also has the benefit of a fantastic cast. Filling Simon Simone's shoes was a hefty order but one Nastassja Kinski was more than up to. Kinski oozes sensuality in every scene. Her breathtaking beauty is so natural. This is befitting the part of a young woman who is just discovering the power her sexuality holds. At story's beginning, Irena is a wide-eyed innocent. By the end, she's a lusty predator. All throughout, Kinski's performance is relatable and considered. It's easy to see why Oliver, played by future “Home Alone” dad John Heard, would be so instantly enamored of her. As her brother, Malcolm McDowell finds the balance between someone trying to tempt an innocent to the dark side and a person torn apart by their own desires. McDowell is both devilish and pathetic in the part, making Paul a villain and a victim.

Instead of attempting to recreate Jacques Tourener's famously shadowy direction, Paul Schrader goes for a more colorful approach. The night is frequently depicted in glowing blues or sensual purples. This fits the story's New Orleans setting and cat-like perspective. The flashbacks, showing the origins of the cat people, are painted in bright red, a color that makes the scenes feel apocalyptic but also bring to mind the erotic heat at the story's center. Some of Schrader's other visual choices – POV shots leaping into trees or the occasional Dutch angle – are less sure-footed. The script has some problems too. After Paul's exit from the story, “Cat People” reaches a logical end point. Instead, Irena has a strange dream that explains the curse's origin and compels her to embrace her animal side. That's some sloppy writing, heavy on the exposition. It's an unnatural shift that makes the last act possible.

Lastly, if one is discussing 1982's “Cat People,” you have to talk about its music. Giorgio Moroder, the king of eighties synth, composed the score. Instead of going with rollicking electronic beats, Moroder fills the film's soundtrack with growling, moaning, pulsating hums. This is another way the film hints at the bubbling sexual desire inside it. This is often paired with tribal drum noises, pointing towards the story's African roots. Frequently accompanying Moroder's beats are the vocals of David Bowie. Bowie's own softly hummed melody play over the opening credits. This bookends the film, as the vocal version of Bowie's theme song plays over the end credits. That's a powerful track, full of poetic lyrics about repressed desire, with Moroder's brilliantly propulsive synth backing. No wonder the songs has memorably been featured on other soundtracks over the years.

I'll finish this review with a personal anecdote. Before I was born, my mother used to live in an apartment, which included HBO as part of the standard TV package. On lonely nights, when my sister was elsewhere, my mom would frequently fall asleep to whatever was on the channel. On one such night, she found herself watching “Cat People.” The film frightened her so much, that she had difficulty sleeping. One scene in particular, where the panther emerges from under a bed, had her checking under her own mattress for quite a few nights. It's funny how movies affect us. As for myself, I recognize that “Cat People” is a really flawed film but it features so many of the things that make me love movies. [8/10]

The Student of Prague (1926)

It's a night for remakes, folks. A few years back, I reviewed 1913's “The Student of Prague.” The directorial debut of German cinema pioneer Paul Wegener, it is sometimes credited with being the first feature length horror movie. I found it to be a bit slow and melodramatic myself. However, a mere thirteen years later, Wegener's film was remade. (This goes to show that remakes are far from a new phenomenon and are practically as old as film itself is.) The 1926 version starred another early icon of horror: Conrad Veidt. It's generally considered to be the superior version. Since I like to squeeze in at least one silent horror film every October, and this one had been on my list for a while, I decided to give it a look.

Much like the original, 1926's “The Student of Prague” mashes up the “Faust” story and Poe's “William Wilson.” Set in 1820, Balduin is a student at the university of Prague. Though a gifted fencer, he is financially destitute. While at a party, he meets Margit, the beautiful daughter of a rich count who is engaged to a local baron. At the same party, a stranger named Scapinelli says he can help Balduin out. At first, Balduin dismisses the man. Later, Balduin reconsiders Scapinelli's offer. The man gives the student riches and only wants a single item from his room in return. Balduin agrees and Scapinelli takes the boy's reflection. At first, Balduin's luck seems to have changed. He catches Margit's eye and gets ready to benefit from her dad's fortune. Then a man who looks just like him appears. It turns out that Balduin's reflection has come alive and is actively seeking to ruin the boy's life.

Wegener's “The Student of Prague” was barely a horror movie, playing more like a dark fantasy. Henrik Galeen's remake ramps up the spookiness just a bit. Film technology had come a long way in just the thirteen years between the two films. Galeen's “Student” is heavier on expressionistic atmosphere. From a mountain top, Scapinelli directs the action below, causing a fox hunt to crash into an inn. A notable sequence features the old wizard's shadow reaching up to grab a letter from a balcony, handing it to the flower girl who has a crush on Balduin. Later, after a night of drowning his sorrow at a bar, Balduin imagines a saw – the same one the musician was playing inside – sawing at his head. The ending, where the zombie-like doppelganger confronts the original, is impressively atmospheric. The reflection, fading in and out, stares from an open window. He chases Balduin into a dark and stormy night. These are effective images.

Galeen's “Student of Prague” still inherits some flaws from Wegener's original. Being a film from the twenties, the film is beholden to then-genre expectations. Yes, there's a couple of love triangles. Balduin lusts after Margit, who already has a fiancee. Later, a flower girl develops a crush on Balduin. This stuff just comes with the territory. Similarly, the remake is as slowly paced as the original. Scenes often meander, such as the sequence set inside a bar, which focuses way too much on the band playing. It also takes quite a while for “Student of Prague” to get going. Even then, the doppelganger and Balduin don't confront each other until the very end. This forces some scenes to happen off-screen.

Still, the remake has a stronger cast than the original. Conrad Veidt, one of the greatest silent film actors, does well as Balduin. He's charming as a poor student, in the early scenes. This allows you to root for him, as he struggles with the class and wealth divides in the city. Veidt's unforgettable face, the same creepy gaze that he used so well in “Cabinet of Dr. Caligari” and “The Last Performance,” is put to excellent work as the soulless doppelganger. Agnes Esterhazy is charming and lovely as Margit, the rich girl Balduin falls in love with. Werner Krauss has the showy part of Scapinelli. Krauss has a good sinister smile. He brings just the right amount of hamminess to the part of Mephistophelian magician. 

The mechanics of movie had improved a lot in-between 1913 and 1926. Even then, this “Student of Prague” features some clunky, silent movie awkwardness. The scene where Veidt grabs Esterhazy off her horse is difficult to follow. Many of the other scenes are stiffly directed. However, this one is an improvement of sorts over the original. I guess that's the kind of films that should be remade: Stories with potential that had flawed presentations. The story was remade again during the sound era, only nine years later. I guess I'm going to have to review that version some day too, aren't I? [6/10]

Fear Itself: Skin and Bones

When “Masters of Horror” was still going, I had a wish list of directors I hoped would be involved with the show some day. One that I figured was always a long shot was Larry Fessenden. Fessenden wasn't much of a name and his indie productions received divisive reviews, though I've always been a fan. I guess Fessenden was on the producer's radar after all, as he was recruited for “Fear Itself.” “Skin and Bones” concerns the Edlund family, ranchers living in the frozen north. Father Grady disappears into the woods for several weeks. When he returns, he's frost-bitten and starving. Grady's wife, brother, and two sons soon realized their dad is acting strangely. They quickly discover that he's been possessed by the wendigo, the Algonquian spirit of cannibalism. Soon, Grady's own family is on the menu.

Fessenden probably got called for “Skin and Bones” strictly because he previously directed a movie called “Wendigo.” Surprisingly, that film had little to do with the traditional version of the go-to Native American folkloric monster. However, Fessenden's ecologically-minded brand of horror is a good fit for this kind of story anyway. The episode focuses on the fleshiness of cannibalism. By dropping people meat into a stew, “Skin and Bones” naturally makes you wonder how the animals that end up on your plate felt. The episode takes the cannibalism subject as far as the network standards will allow, creating a decently disturbing half-hour. Fessenden focuses just as much on the chilly isolation of the far north setting. The sound design and discordant score is heavy on blowing winds and shrieking strings. This is best utilized in the last act, when Grady is stalking his own sons through the empty barn.

What really sold me on “Skin and Bones” is its lead performance. Doug Jones stars as Grady. Jones is an accomplished actor but is usually buried under latex. The wendigo make-up is light compared to the elaborate creatures Jones usually plays. This allows the actor to really show his stuff. The frostbite effects emphasize Jones' already gaunt frame, making him a believable survivor of the cold. Moreover, Jones brings an incredible physicality to the part. His hand motions are practiced and precise. Every movement is calculated to be as sinister as possible. Jones' performance is both animalistic, when slurping human stew, and also oddly poised, when convincing Grady's wife to cook her brother-in-law. Only the occasional digital effect, deepening Jones' voice, come off as lame. It's a sinister, stylish performance and really makes me wonder why Jones doesn't have his own horror franchise yet. (If New Line ever gets that new “A Nightmare on Elm Street” movie off the ground, they should seriously consider Jones as their new Freddy Krueger.)

Still, “Skin and Bones” occasionally comes off as a little cheesy. A few too many times, Fessenden has Grady leap towards the camera, accompanying by a loud noise on the soundtrack. Later, after wrecking his bedroom, there's another herky-jerky shot of the man walking through the door. As great as Jones is, his performance veers towards the hammy at times. That occasionally makes “Skin and Bones,” otherwise a grim story, feel a little campy. Lastly, I wasn't invested in the familial drama at all. I couldn't really care less about the oldest son's inability to respect his uncle, who his mother is having an affair with. Even with these flaws, “Skin and Bones” is still easiest the best episode of “Fear Itself.” [7/10]

Too Many Cooks (2014)

Has it really been nearly three years since “Too Many Cooks” took the internet by storm? If you somehow missed the short in 2014, here's the gist. The eleven minute film was dropped into the late hours of Cartoon Network's Adult Swim block with zero announcements. Those who caught it how no idea what it was. After being uploaded onto Youtube, “Too Many Cooks” became an internet meme. The film begins like the opening credits of a nineties sitcom, seemingly about a large family called the Cooks. Except the opening keeps going, adding more cast members. Soon, “Too Many Cooks” begins to shift genre, the insanely catchy theme song morphing along with it. Before the end, a layer of disturbing horror has found its way into the show's sitcom banality.

As a comedy short, “Too Many Cooks” is a textbook example of repeating a gag until it's no longer funny... And then continuing anyway, until the gag becomes funny again. It begins by perfectly recreating a sitcom intro, from the opening shot of a cityscape, to the way everyone winks at the camera, even down to the tracking lines. (There's deliberate shout-outs too, to shows like “Rosanne” and “The Brady Bunch.”) Some of the hackiest sitcom troupes are skewered, such as the Urkel-like nerdy next door neighbor, the multiple babies added to spice up the ratings, the youth appealing “cool guy” character, and the eye candy for the dads. “Too Many Cooks” then throws in several literal cooks. From there, the show absorbs other genres. It mutates into a workplace comedy, a cop show, a “G.I. Joe” style cartoon, a “Falcon's Crests”-like prime time soap, a “Law and Order”-esque procedural, a “Battlestar Galactia” inspired sci-fi show, before finally morphing back into a sitcom. The theme song changes genres too. And just when it seems like the actual show is beginning, “Too Many Cooks” ends abruptly.

Tying together this ridiculous idea is a freewheeling sense of absurdity. Due to its constantly shifting premise, “Too Many Cooks” can pack in countless gags. Among the fictional sitcom's huge cast are a hunky firefighter, a human disguised as a coat, a literal pie apparently played by Lars Von Trier, and Smarf. Smarf is an “Alf”-like puppet cat that shoots rainbows from his hands and is also a robot. Then there are gags that are just inspired and weird. Like a topless girl, covering her breasts, continuing to be semi-nude regardless of the setting. The killer's head appears atop a spaceship during the sci-fi section. There's also an absurdist, two-part shout-out to “Wonder Woman,” which also ends violently. Eventually, the different genres begin to bleed into each other, space characters ending up on a couch and vice versa.

You might be wondering why I'm reviewing this for Halloween. That's because “Too Many Cooks” eventually evolves into a horror film. During the endless intro, you begin to notice a strange bearded man in a jacket. A re-watch shows that he's hiding in the background of many shots. Eventually, the man begins to murder the cast members, dismembering them with a machete. At that point, “Too Many Cooks” becomes a slasher film. A girl manages to break out of her intro-induced paralysis so she can run from the killer. All the while, her credit remains in front of her chest, the theme song playing around her. This ultimately reveals her hiding place. The killer then takes over the intro, replacing all the cast members and even eating a few. “Too Many Cooks'” surreal horror continues to get weirder, until the cast members have been replaced with upright credits... And the credits are replaced with the people, who scream in agony.

The creator of “Too Many Cooks” claims that there's no deeper point to the short's abrasive weirdness. I'm not sure I buy that, strictly because it's so easy to read into it. The way the sitcom platitudes are slowly perverted into something twisted suggests a statement about the dark side of nostalgia. The Cook parents are revealed to be swingers. One segment features a doctor treating a cast member suffering from “intro-itis,” an infectious disease that trap people in an endless sitcom intro. All of this is aside from the machete wielding murderer. The way he sneaks into the intro, even appearing in the final cast shot, killing the cast members and replacing them, hints at the darkness sitcoms exclude. In short: Nostalgia may provide an escape from reality but you can only fight that off for so long. Unless it's constantly rebooted, the way a bloody Smarf does when he presses a reset button. “Too Many Cooks” is a hilarious, bizarre bit of absurdist comedy that eventually reveals the rotten heart at the center of nostalgia. [9/10]

Halloween 2017: October 9

It Comes at Night (2017)

For the last couple years, an indie horror film has emerged and become the new genre favorite of the year. Last year, it was “The Witch.” The year before, “It Follows.” In 2014, it was “The Babadook.” Earlier this year, it seemed like “It Comes at Night” was destined to fill this slot. It was a small film given a big advertising push. The trailers were terrifying. Yet when “It Comes at Night” came to theaters, the advertising campaign was accused of being misleading and the film's reaction was divisive. Now, several months after its release, “It Comes at Night” has slipped from the discourse, being unable to hold onto its title of most talked about horror movie of the year.

Some sort of pandemic has brought society to its knees. The disease is highly contagious, signaled by itching blisters on the skin and vomiting blood. Death follows soon afterwards. In this outbreak, people are doing what they can to survive. Paul, his wife Sarah, and his teenage son Travis are living in a house in the woods. There's only one entrance into the building and its kept locked at almost all times. One night, the family is awoken by someone breaking into the house. The intruder calls himself Will and claims he means no one harm. After holding him captive for a day, Paul chooses to believe him. Will's family – his wife, Kim, and Andrew, their toddler son – are allowed to move into the house. However, paranoia and fear of the plague are never far from anyone's mind.

First off, it must be said that “It Comes at Night” isn't really a horror movie. It's a post-apocalyptic thriller/drama, with some very light horror elements, which the trailers emphasized over anything else. The film is, in truth, one of those naturalistic indie dramas light on plot. Not a lot happens over the ninety-one minute run time. The focus is primarily on the day-to-day actions needed to survive and the growing tension within the house. It's a pretty quiet movie, featuring little dialogue and only the occasional burst of action. Writer/director Trey Edward Shults does a good job of establishing his location and the particular mood he's clearly striving for.

There's a big problem, though. I didn't care about any of these characters. The cast's personality is intentionally kept vague. They are defined more by terse glares than their words or actions. What glimpses we do get at their personalities are unappealing. Paul is a gruff, paranoid, and violent man. Yet the audience can't help but agree with him that there is something slightly shifty about Will. Sarah is given even less development. The only characters that really make an impression are Travis and Kim. The two have a cute conversation in the middle of the night, discussing what foods they miss from before the apocalypse. Even this moment represents the majority of Kim's inner life. The cast is uniformly strong. Kelvin Harrison Jr., as Travis, is especially good. Yet the characters are such thin, hoarse sketches, that it's hard to relate to any of them.

Since there's little in the way of story and few characters to relate too, “It Comes at Night” instead becomes about its tone. A looming sense of dread floats over the entire film. The audience quickly relates to Paul's paranoia, feeling the threat of death and destruction that must be constant in a plague-ridden world. Travis is haunted by the fear of being infected. This manifests as a series of terrifying nightmares. (These are the scenes the trailers largely drew from.) Probably the most haunting scene has him awakening from a dream, thinking he sees the tumors his arms before blinking a few times. I think we've all had moments like that: Where the wall between dreaming and waking are a little too thin. After what feels like a long time, this threatening atmosphere eventually boils over into a senseless act of violence.

And, after that violence, the movie more-or-less ends. “It Comes at Night” keeps its commitment to being vague and atmospheric up through its conclusion. There's an explosion of sudden, disturbing violence. Afterwards, the film ends suddenly on a series of quiet, barely explained images. It went by so quickly that I actually had to read the Wikipedia summary to understand what exactly had just happened. The ending is so blunt that I was kind of pissed off. I felt a bit like the entire film had been a waste of time.

CinemaScore is garbage but it's easy to see why many audiences were alienated by “It Comes at Night.” The film goes out of its way to confound expectations, to frustrate viewers by explaining little and keeping things understated. Some scenes, like the family dog disappearing among the trees, are left entirely unexplained. As a mood place, “It Comes at Night” is mildly successful. As an actual movie, it struck me as a bit on the ponderous side. I respect the filmmakers' ambition but largely found the film unsatisfying. And, yes, it doesn't help that the trailers were so wildly misleading. [6/10]

Bedlam (1946)

Val Lewton's series of horror movies was clearly a profitable enterprise for RKO. They wouldn't have let him make nine of them if they weren't. Yet, by the time “Bedlam” came out in 1946, it appeared that the steam in this machine had run out. Supposedly, “Bedlam” lost 40,000 dollars for RKO, which probably explains why this was the last horror picture Lewton made for the studio. Maybe the public's appetite for this sort of thing was satisfied. This was, after all, Lewton's third film in a row that starred Boris Karloff in a period setting. It was his second based on the somewhat unusual source material of a painting. Whatever the reason, the quote-unquote series would conclude here.

The year is 1761, which some call the Age of Enlightenment. The inmates at St. Mary's of Bethleham Asylum, known far and wide as Bedlam, aren't aware of this. They live in squalor, tormented by the cruel apothecary general, George Sims. When a poet dies while attempting to escape the hospital, local aristocrat Lord Mortimer is appalled. Not by the hospital's conditions but because the poet was a friend. Sims soon charms Mortimer, inviting him to a performance by the inmates at the asylum. Mortimer's moll though, Nell, is disgusted by Sims and how he treats his patients. She begins a slow campaign to reform Bedlam. In retaliation, Sims has her declared insane and locked up in the hospital.

More than any of Lewton's films, “Bedlam” is deeply concerned with issues of classic division. Nell is a commoner until she catches Mortimer's eye. As soon as she displeases him, the girl is thrown back out on the street. Nell's friends – former actors – have difficulty finding work. Mostly, these themes are expressed through the insane asylum setting. The mentally ill are treated cruelly, tortured and left to fend for themselves. Sims gleefully admits to abusing them. As in reality, the rich frequently visit the hospital to gape at the inmates, seeing them as less than human. Sometimes, the people admitted into this snake pits aren't even insane but are simply politically undesirable. When confronted with these ghastly conditions, most of the idle rich simply laugh. Others use it to argue about politics but do nothing to actually improve anything. The themes are self evident. The rich do not care about poor people, never have and never will.

In fact, caring about the “loonies” – what Bedlam's inmates are usually called in the film – is seen as so unfashionable that Nell has to deny that she cares about them at all. Throughout the film, she claims that she's horrified by Bedlam because it's an “ugly thing in a pretty world.” Her desire to reform the place is described as simply a whim. Yet her humanistic side is clear and, as the film goes on, she becomes more open about expressing her feelings. Anna Lee also plays Nell as someone willful and strong, refusing to kowtow to the people around her. This makes her a good foil to Boris Karloff's George Sims. Sims revels in his own cruelty. He's obviously attracted to Nell and, when she rebukes him, he gets her locked up. As sadistic as Sims is, Karloff still finds a sympathetic edge to the character. Everyone refers to him as ugly. It seems Sims has decided to return the world's cruelty. He's a monster but one with understandable motivations.

Perhaps Val Lewton's entire goal with his series of horror films was to class up the usually disreputable genre. Like “the Body Snatcher” and “Isle of the Dead,” “Bedlam” is a classy period piece. In fact, the film is more costume drama than horror picture. Aside from the insane asylum setting and an ending that references Poe, there's little overtly horrific content. For a Lewton movie, “Bedlam” is even low on ominous shadows. However, director Mark Robson makes the few shadowy scenes count for a lot. The shot of hands reaching through cell bars, or the faces of the mad staring from the darkness, certainly make an impression.

Having watched all of Val Lewton's horror films now, I find my earlier opinion validated. I respect what Lewton did. His movies are ambitious and visually impressive. Many of them are brilliant, with “Curse of the Cat People” being a full-blown masterpiece. I think my overall enjoyment of the series perked up some once Boris Karloff came on-board, even though “Bedlam” is still a lesser effort. However, these are still movies I respect more than I enjoy. I guess I like my classic horror to be heavier on the monsters and not as focused on psychological angst. Still, it has been an entertaining ride. [7/10]

Fear Itself: New Year's Day

When it was announced that Darren Lynn Bousman would direct an episode of “Fear Itself,” officially being inducted into the Masters of Horror club, I wasn't surprised. Disappointed, because his movies are usually terrible, but not surprised, because he was prolific at the time. But let's talk about “New Year's Day” first. Helen awakens on January 1st, in the early morning hours. Hung over, she slowly recalls making a fool of herself at a party earlier in the night. She begins a track across the city to the apartment of James, the man she confessed her love to. There's just one problem. Following an explosion at a chemical plant, a zombie plague is sweeping through the city.

Being a prime time television series, the “Fear Itself” directors usually squeezed their cinematic styles into a TV shaped box. Darren Lynn Bousman, however, brings every single one of his obnoxious quirks to the show. Bousman's tricks are incredibly annoying. When a character is stressed out, he'll intersperse jerky sequences of them screaming or freaking out. These rock video style inserts make up much of “New Year's Day.” When a zombie attacks, the camera goes crazy, shaking wildly. This is the kind of bullshit that made Bousman's “Saw” sequels unwatchable. Likewise, “New Year's Day” is a deeply abrasive viewing experience.

“New Year's Day” is not just visually obnoxious. Its story is weak as piss too. Helen's journey across the unnamed city is an uneventful one, the woman running into random bullshit like a dead girl in an elevator, a suicidal elderly couple, or a cop getting eaten. The only through-line here is the zombified version of her friend, who had a crush on her while alive, pursuing her. The flashbacks to the New Year's Eve party are also lame. It's subpar soap opera style nonsense, revolving around sudden declarations of love and people stupidly making out in a public place. If that wasn't bad enough, “New Year's Day” leads towards a totally predictable and utterly brain-dead twist ending. From the opening, lingering shot on an undead tarantula, it's immediately apparent that Helen is not exactly what she appears to be.

The final nail in “New Year's Day's” casket is an awful cast. Briana Evigan, a regular of Bousman's movies, plays Helen. Evigan's performance here is terrible. Early on, she flatly explains that her character has a recently deceased little brother. Throughout most of the episode, she huffs, puffs, and shrieks in an unconvincing manner. She's not even believable as a shambling zombie, as she stretches her jaw in a goofy looking manner. So there's simply nothing appealing about this one. The direction is atrocious, the script is crappy, and the lead performance is terrible. Add it all up and you get the worst episode of a deeply mediocre anthology series.  [2/10]

Wolf Creek: Rome

In the penultimate episode of the first season, “Wolf Creek” finally starts to put the pieces together. “Rome” picks up a few months after the previous episode, Eve having found work in the titular town as a waitress in a sleazy bar. She's even acquired a roommate, an enthusiastic young woman who is planning for a wedding. While at work, none other than Mick Taylor enters the bar. After grabbing his license plate number, communicating with Officer Sullivan, and talking with a survivor of Mick's torture, she sets herself up for a final showdown with the man who murdered her family. However, the group of bikers – Johnny's friends – find her first.

I know I've been bitching about the countless subplots pretty much from the moment I started watching this show. However, I will admit that seeing the divergent story lines come together is satisfying. At first, I figured the subplots would continue to wander around. The escaped convict Eve met back in episode three reappears, amputating his own hand in an especially grisly sequence. However, he shows up just in time later on, rescuing Eve from the bikers. That's another subplot that finally pays off, Mick using Johnny's family as a way to wear his pray down. It leads to a pretty wild shoot-out, set in an abandoned outback cemetery. I'm still not sure it was necessary to throw all these divergent stories into the show, just so they could come together at a later point. But at least “Wolf Creek” won't have to deal with them anymore.

More importantly, “Rome” shows Eve and Mick's cat-and-mouse game heating up. The girl coming face to face with the killer in the bar, Mick not recognizing her, is an impressively intense sequence. It certainly feels like the audience has been anticipating – and dreading – this moment nearly as long as she has. What follows is another tense scene where she trails Mick's truck, the two nearly seeing each other. Naturally, Taylor claims more than a few victims. Detective Sullivan, one of the more likable supporting characters, has a heartfelt meeting with Eve before Mick catches up with him. That's a sequence that's really well done actually, the attack being backlit by the headlines from Mick's truck.

In a nice touch of continuity, “Rome” also has Eve meeting up with Ben Mitchell. That's the one victim that escaped Mick in the original movie. (Though played by a different actor, with Fletcher Humphrys stepping in for Nathan Phillips.) He's clearly still traumatized by the encounter. Due to Mick crucifying him, Ben's acquired the nickname of “Jesus.” Finally, the episode's ending seems to set up Eve and Mick finally facing off, the encounter the entire season's been building towards. Since the show has regained some of its juice, hopefully that bodes well for the conclusion. [7/10]

Halloween 2017: October 8

Leatherface (2017)

Of all the eighties slasher icons, it seems like Leatherface has been the most abused. Following Tobe Hooper's unhinged sequel to his own classic, it seems like few filmmakers actually known what to do with the chainsaw wielding maniac. Over the years, we've gotten reboots, remakes, and prequels, one after the other, none pleasing fans much. So when it was announced that another “Texas Chain Saw Massacre” prequel was in development, I didn't get my hopes up. My anticipation briefly flickered when Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury, the madmen behind “Inside,” signed up to direct the film. Then “Leatherface” sat on the shelf for a few years before finally being released straight-to-DirecTV, a release strategy that raise my confidence. When the film finally came out, it actually received some okay reviews. Was I wrong to pre-judge this one?

The film takes us back to the early days of the Sawyer family. For his seventh birthday, Jedidiah Sawyer is presented with an unusual gift: A chainsaw. The next day, Jed's deranged older brothers kill a young woman. This girl is the daughter of Sheriff Hartman. As revenge, the Sheriff gets Jed taken off to a mental institute, separating the boy from his mother, Verna. Ten years pass. Jed has grown into a young man. After a failed attempt to free her son, Verna engineers a riot at the hospital. Jed, along with three other inmates, escape. With a kidnapped nurse in tow, the group heads back to the Sawyer family home. Sheriff Hartman quickly pursues them. By the end, Jedidiah will complete his transformation into Leatherface.

“Leatherface” is a frustrating film. In some ways, it's the first rebbot that feels like it respects the original. The importance of family to the future Leatherface is a main point of the film. He's loyal to his mother and brothers. In turn, they are deeply loyal to him. Yet the film takes a while to circle back to this point. Most of “Leatherface” is devoted to the four juvenile delinquents rampaging across the south. Something about this is appealing, in a way that recalls Charles Starkweather and other films. The film certainly attempts to capture the depravity of the original – there's a graphic sex scene involving a corpse – while respecting the teen killers as brutal anti-heroes. At the same time, it doesn't feel much like “Texas Chain Saw Massacre.” The chainsaws, leather masks, and cannibalism play a very small role. The entire storyline involving the deranged cop feels especially shoehorned in, a simple narrative device to keep the kids on the run.

Maury and Bustillo's previous films were characterized by two things: Frenzied direction and extremely intense gore. “Leatherface” lacks neither. The bloody effects are vivid and disturbing. During the mental asylum escape, a nurse has her tongue graphically ripped out. A stick-up in a roadside diner climaxes with a massive exploding head. Faces are bashed, heads caved-in, necks stabbed, and brains blown out. It's pretty gnarly stuff and the directors deployed it with maximum impact. Disappointingly, the duo leans on that most dreaded of cinematic styles – shakey-cam – a little too much as well. Several scenes are so shaky, they become difficult to follow. It's not as bad as the equally spastic “Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning” but its rougher than I would've preferred.

The film rounds up an interesting cast of characters actors and relative unknowns. Sam Strike plays Jedidiah, otherwise known as teenage Leatherface. There's something vulnerable about Strike, in spite of his hunky good looks. He plays up Jed's sympathetic side almost too much, making the character's inevitable transformation into a faceless killer seem somewhat improbable.  It's still a solid performance and I can see Strike going on to a decent career. Lili Taylor is effectively unhinged, but believable, as Verna. (Angela Bettis was slated to play the role but dropped out before filming began, forever making me wonder what she would've brought to the part.) Jessica Madsen is sexy and frightening as Clarice, the crazy girl that accompanies the guys on their trip. I'm not a fan of all the performances. Jaems Bloor mugs badly as Ike, an over-the-top psychopath. Stephen Dorff goes way over the top to play the one-note Sheriff Hartman.

Like I said, “Leatherface” just doesn't feel enough like a real “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” movie. There's maybe one instance of people eating people and a single shot of bones used in interior decorating. Despite this, the script is peppered with references and in-jokes to the other films. Hartman is one significant name that crops up. Nubbins is another. Ultimately, a big mid-film twist is what bugged me the most about this one. A character that looks and acts a lot like the classic Leatherface is introduced. Names are limited to pseudonyms at this point, making exact identities difficult to determine. Eventually, we find out that this person who obviously seems to be Leatherface actually isn't. That feels contrived and unnecessary. Why set up all that foreshadowing just to swerve suddenly at the end? Did that twist have any purpose other than just screwing with the audience?

“Leatherface” proves to be a frustrating watch for a fan of this series. It's clear the filmmakers and writers actually had a vision for this one. That actual respect was paid to certain aspects of Hooper's original creation. (For all it's flaws, at least Leatherface gets to keep his nose in this one.) There's certainly some impressive gore, if nothing else. Yet I still feel like a peak into Leatherface's mind, into his origin, could've made for a more nuanced and exciting movie. It's not a bad movie but is yet another “Texas Chain Saw Massacre” spin-off that feels slightly disconnected from the spirit of the original. [6/10]

Isle of the Dead (1945)

Some images reverberate through history. Arnold Bocklin's “Isle of the Dead” series are probably some of the famous paintings that you might not be able to name. They all depict the same thing: Positioned on a small island are a closely cropped group of towering trees, growing up in-between stark stone cliffs. A solitary ship is docked outfront, seemingly carrying coffins either to or away the island. The paintings are so powerful and iconic that they've inspired all sorts of art. Sergei Rachmanioff composed a tone poem inspired by the painting. In 1945, Val Lewton took the title for his seventh horror RKO horror movie. Fittingly, Bocklin's painting appears behind the opening credits. The film similarly captures the same foreboding, melancholy as the painting.

The Balkan Wars of 1912 rage on. The Greek forces are led by General Pherides. While conversing with a visiting American journalist, the topic of Pherides' deceased wife comes up. The two decide to visit the grave, kept on a near-by island. As they arrive on the island, they find the tomb has been disturbed. Staying at a local inn, both men hear stories of vorvolaka, an undead monster similar to a vampire. Both men dismiss the belief as superstition. Soon, a batch of septicemic plague breaks out on the island. As the group is forced to stay inside the inn, quarantine, suddenly stories about undead monsters being to make more sense.

“Isle of the Dead” shares some thematic similarities with Lewton's other films. Like “Cat People” and “I Walked with a Zombie,” the story is set in the place where superstition meets science. While Kyra talks about vorvolaka, the general is more concerned with the plague. Early on, a character makes a bargain, outright betting science against the god Hermes. As the situation grows more grave, and more people die, Pherides begins to wonder if there isn't something to this vorvolaka business. In the last act, someone does rise from the grave and begin to kill. However, as in Lewton's other films, it's kept ambiguous whether something truly supernatural is happening. Into this concept, Lewton and his writers introduced elements of Poe – a beautiful maiden buried alive – and shadows of World War I, which most of the film's cast and crew were still old enough to remember.

Despite the title, “Isle of the Dead” does not seem like a horror film at first. Much of the earlier scenes are set in the daylight, leaving few opportunities for Mark Robson's trademark shadowy direction. The script mostly deals with people trying to survive a plague, talking among themselves inside the inn. However, as “Isle of the Dead” nears its conclusion, the film gets both visually and narrative darker. Robson creates a very intense sequence where Thea wanders through the island's darkened corridors, encountering a Mary that has seemingly returned from the dead. This scene; which is painted in stark black and white, making stunning use of the eerie island noises; may be among the scariest in any of Lewton's films. In this last act, “Isle of the Dead” takes a hard turn into horror, featuring a mad woman stalking and killing people with a trident. So the film rewards your patience in a great way.

In “The Body Snatcher,” Boris Karloff was chilling as a totally amoral villain. In “Isle of the Dead,” he plays a different sort of character. General Pherides is haunted by the spectres of war. He's a man that is always trying to make the right choice, even when that is frequently the hardest thing to do. While quarantined on the island, something gets to him. Part of it is the growing isolation but it's mostly the weight of living under so much death. To a man that has seen as much death as him, the idea of an undead monster is almost appealing. It's a humanistic, deeply nuanced performance from Karloff. He leads a solid cast. Ellen Drew's beauty is haunting and otherworldly as Thea, the strange girl that people suspect of being a monster. Alan Napier is charming and slightly funny as St. Aubyn. Helene Thimig plays Kyra not as a delusional old woman but as someone deeply convinced of their own beliefs.

“Isle of the Dead's” production was protracted. Karloff needed surgeon on his back following the first two weeks, forcing filming to pause for several months. As it took longer to prep “Isle of the Dead,” he actually shot “The Body Snatcher” in the interim. The released film also wasn't a huge hit for RKO either. This one is not quite as good as that previous collaboration. It's slower and more ambiguous. However, if you're willing to wait around, you'll be rewarded with a chilling and thought provoking classic horror picture. [7/10]

Fear Itself: Eater

During its brief run on NBC, “Fear Itself” was either ignored or outright dismissed by most critics. However, “Eater” – the contribution from Stuart Gordon – received some positive notices.  The episode is set Set in a police station caught in the middle of the snowstorm, the episode follows new recruit Danny Bannerman. She is one of four officers in the entire building. That night, Duane Mellor is brought in for holding. Mellor is a towering Cajun serial killer, who was notorious for eating his victims. Bannerman discovers Mellor doesn't just eat people because he likes how they taste. Using voodoo magic, he can also take on the appearance of the people he kills. Soon, it's up to Bannerman alone to stop this madman.

After directing two of the best “Masters of Horror” episodes, Stuart Gordon directed one of the best “Fear Itself” episodes. “Eater” makes great use of its cramped location. The police station, surrounded on the outside by snow, is lit by sea-sick green, florescent lights. Often, the lights flicker, temporarily casting the characters in darkness and disorientated the viewer. This is one technique Gordon uses to create several tense encounters. The episode doesn't immediately reveal the Eater's powers. Danny can tell something is wrong with her co-workers. One guy gets uncomfortably close to her, continuing to bring up the disturbing circumstances of the case. Another passive-aggressively chides her. Everybody is sweaty and sleazy. By the time the killer reveals himself, “Eater” has ramped up to a fever pitch. The final ten minutes are easily the most suspenseful of the series thus far. 

It helps that we actually care about the main character. Elisabeth Moss is introduced as a fellow horror fan, reading a Fangoria knock-off during briefings and correcting her co-workers about “Silence of the Lambs.” She's initially morbidly curious about the Eater but grows more frightened the closer she gets to him. She's also resourceful and tough, staying alive and staying ahead of the guy. Gordon regular Stephen Lee shows up as one of the more obnoxious and gross officers. Stephen R. Hart only appears briefly as the killer but his height and odd facial features makes him perfect of the part. “Eater” is a tight little hour and a thrilling piece of pulp, almost singlehandledly making the whole series worth watching. [7/10]

Wolf Creek: Opalville

Turns out the cliffhanger last episode was a total cop-out. Looks like “Wolf Creek” really is going to drag this out for six whole episodes. Eve drives to Opalville to talk to the parents of one of Mick Taylor's previous victims. The father, a milker of venomous snakes, turns out to be mentally unstable himself. A struggle inevitably follows. Afterwards, Eve gets bitten by one of the snakes. She is then rescued by an unexpected friend. Meanwhile, an increasingly frustrated Mick Taylor gets sloppy in his slaughter, dropping a clue that Detective Sullivan picks up on.

The first half of “Opalville” represents “Wolf Creek” at its most frustrating. The encounter between Eve and the snake farmer is obviously another unnecessary stop, meant to stretch the story out further. The idea of Eve connecting with another victim of the killer is interesting. As is the subterranean dug-out setting. The direction the script goes in next – making the dad a mentally unstable abuser, causing the sequence to explode into a fight and a chase – seems like a totally random writing decision. Mick, meanwhile, has been reduced to cameos in his own show, murdering random people at the beginning and end. If you weren't annoyed enough already, “Opalville” concludes by reintroducing that pointless biker subplot.

However, it's not a total lost cause. After being bitten by the snake, Eve is rescued by an Aboriginal medicine man. It's a random plot choice but a charming one. After seeing the character constantly stressed out for the last couple episode, it's nice to see her meet a friendly person, to see her unwind. It's also promising that Detective Sullivan is starting to do his job. I know Mick Taylor's inability to be caught is part of his mystique as an outback legend. But, seriously, the cops should be on his trail by now. The episode ends on another down-note – throwing in another chase scene and resolving yet another sloppy subplot – but there's only two more episodes left. Surely the show will be getting to the point real soon? [6/10]

Halloween 2017: October 7

Get Out (2017)

I'm a strong believer that horror, as a genre, has always existed to exercise cultural fears and anxieties. Too often, audiences and filmmakers alike have forgotten this. I've never seen a whole episode of “Key & Peele,” though the segments I have seen have been really funny. Jordon Peele, who is apparently a big horror fan, certainly hasn't forgotten that horror and social commentary go hand-in-hand. He made a boldly political genre film with “Get Out.” The film would connect with audiences, becoming a huge hit earlier in the year. I probably should've seen the movie before now but it's not uncommon for me to fall behind new releases. As one of the most talked about horror films of the year, October seems to be the right month to finally watch this.

Chris Washington, a black man, has been dating Rose Armitage, a white woman, for four months. The relationship has gotten serious enough that Rose's parents have invited the couple to visit their home for a few days. Rose's parents try to make Chris feel welcomed. However, he begins to suspect something is wrong. The maid and groundskeeper are both black. Moreover, both of them act extremely strangely. At a party the next, Chris meets another black man who also acts very odd. Soon, he begins to suspect there is a local conspiracy targeting African-Americans. What he discovers is even more horrifying than he could have guessed.

Being a black man in America is already scary. Peele need only exaggerate things a little. “Get Out” builds upon the awkwardness of being black in a white community. (And America is, in many ways, one big white community.) When Chris first meets Rose's parents, they attempt to establish kinship by mentioning black athletes or Obama. Rose's brother asks about Chris' genetic make-up. While at a big party, Chris is at the center of more awkward interactions. People asking about his sex life, feeling him up like he's a commodity, giving their own undercooked opinions. Even before outwardly creepy things happen, Peele lays hints that something is wrong. Rose's father talks about exterminating deer in a weirdly racial way. He makes a reference to wiping out “black” mold. It's not the obvious racism Peele is criticizing but the subtle kind, the type most white people probably aren't even aware of. Fittingly, when the motivation behind the villain's scheme is revealed, they deny race plays any role in it at all. I'm a pasty white guy but it seems to be that Peele is saying that black people live in a culture where they are constantly under attack or on display. “Get Out's” horror content grows out of this real world anxiety.

“Get Out” isn't just a potent political allegory. It's also a really effective horror movie. The score mixes Swahili chanting with discordant, shrieking strings to create an unnerving mood early on. The black workers on the Armitage property act in very strange ways. Their uncanny appearance and behavior is also unsettling. This leads up to more intense moments, such as when Chris stumbles upon one of the workers running around the yard at night. Or another black man momentarily lapsing out of his hypnotized state. All of this is preparation for “Get Out's” descent into full-blown surreal horror. The appearance of the Sunken Place – which became something of an internet meme earlier in the year – is a startling and original visual. Smartly, Peele also contrasts his horrific scenes with comedic ones. The scenes revolving around Chris' friend, Rod, are frequently hilarious.

Another reason “Get Out's” big box office was so surprising was its lack of any marquee names. The films tars Daniel Kaluuya, an obscure character actor best known for British television. Kaluuya as Chris, perfectly playing the character as a normal guy caught up in something bizarre while, simultaneously, giving him plenty of distinct characteristics. As Rose's parents, Bradley Whitford and Catherine Keener are especially chilling. Whitford's gladhanding ways effectively mask a darker intention. Keener, meanwhile, impressively projects an unnerving sense of authority. Caleb Landry Jones has no time for subtly as Jeremy, Rose's brother, who is outwardly creepy in a very obvious – but no doubt effective – way. Stephen Root puts in a supporting appearance as Jim Hudson, making the blind character both sympathetic and off-putting. And, once again, I must point out hilarious Lil Rel Howery is in his few scenes, making pretty much everything that comes out of Rod's mouth funny.

If horror is a vehicle for political commentary, it's also a genre built upon catharsis. The actual details of the strange things going on in the Armitage house are not especially novel. It's the kind of story we've seen play out in other horror pictures. Honestly, considering how original “Get Out's” brand of horror had been up to that point, the reveal is a little disappointing. What it sets up, though, makes it worth it. The film almost shifts into an action film at the end. Antlers – in another move that aligns Chris with deer – are put to good use. The repressed get righteous revenge on their tormentors. It plays out gory and incredibly satisfying fashion. Peele originally envisioned “Get Out” with a much darker ending. That ending, perhaps, would've made more sense. However, the more up-beat ending was the right decision. “Get Out” ends on a note of triumph, not defeat. Given the story's obvious sociological element, it's well earned.

Due to the movie's success, Peele has already been offered at least one big blockbuster project. However, it seems the director is more interested in focusing on smaller films. He's promised that “Get Out” is the first of what he hopes is many politically engaged horror picture. I hope they are all as exciting, creepy, and well executed as this one. “Get Out” really is as good as I had read, a horror film with something vital to say without sacrificing its status as an effectively chilling motion picture. [9/10]

The Body Snatcher (1945)

Perhaps because “Curse of the Cat People” under-performed, the next horror film Val Lewton produced for RKO would feature an established genre star. By 1945, Boris Karloff had officially retired from Universal Studios' monster movies, following his appearance in “House of Frankenstein.” Karloff was increasingly disenfranchised with the horror genre. However, Lewton's more nuanced scripts would renew Karloff's enthusiasm. The partnership proved so fruitful that Karloff would appear in two more films for Lewton and RKO. For added value, “The Body Snatcher” would also throw in another genre icon – Bela Lugosi – and be based on a short story from legendary author Robert Louis Stevenson. Naturally, the film is regarded as a classic now.

The year is 1831. The science of anatomy and surgery is still in its infancy. Dr. Wolfe McFarlane is a surgeon operating out of Edinburgh. He quickly takes a medical student, Donald Fettes, under his wing. Fettes, soon, discovers that his mentor's methods are not as clean as he anticipated. Dr. MacFarlane has, for years, been working with a John Gray. A coachman by day, Gray is a grave robber by night, providing the doctor with fresh corpses. While attempting to perform experimental spinal surgeon on a paraplegic little girl, Dr. MacFarlane's demand for fresh bodies become greater. To accommodate him, Gray commits murder. Soon, the resurrection man is blackmailing the doctor.

Following “Curse of the Cat People,” director Robert Wise would make “Mademoiselle Fifi,” a war film set in the 1870s, for Lewton and RKO. Obviously, costume dramas were an area the director was comfortable with. “The Body Snatcher” is also a period piece but not a typical one. Wise fuses the Victorian costumes with the same shadowy atmosphere typical of RKO's horror movies. English fog characterizes several scenes, especially in a chilling scene where Gray encounters a mourning dog on a grave. As the story grows darker, so does the film's visual palette. There's an amazing frame of Gray hiking a dead body onto his shoulders, the shadows cast huge on the wall. The climax is set in a thunderstorm that feels especially dreary. “Curse of the Cat People” had little opportunities for the classic RKO horror atmosphere. He more than makes up for it with “The Body Snatcher's” strong use of shadows and darkness.

The film is also home to one of Boris Karloff's most frightening performances. Karloff usually brought a sense of warmth to even his nastiest characters. In “The Body Snatchers,” he does away with that completely. His character beats a dog to death with a shovel in an early scene, for one example. Jon Gray is a psychopath, only interested in furthering his own interest and willing to do absolutely anything to accomplish that. Despite being a total sociopath, Karloff still brings an odd charm to the character. Gray is charismatic, befitting a master manipulator. At the same time, Karloff brings a desperate edge to the part. Gray isn't a great planner and isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. It's a fantastic villain. Karloff gets a few scenes with Bela Lugosi who, sadly, isn't given much more to do.

“The Body Snatcher” is a morality play of sorts. Dr. MacFarlane is attempting to help people, such as a poor little girl who can't walk. However, he's willing to compromise his ethics in pursuit of success and scientific advancement. By continuing down that path, by allowing himself to associate with Gray, he is dragged further down into a moral quagmire. His situation eventually forces him to commit a serious crime himself. In the end, MacFarlane's own guilty conscious is what does him. Donald Fettes, however, never stoops to the same levels as his mentor. He's able to actually help people, without ever doing wrong. The lesson here is clear: Evil acts, even when performed in the name of good, are never justified.

“The Body Snatcher” isn't without its flaws. A subplot involving MacFarlane's wife, who he married in secret, doesn't go much of anywhere. It's final scene is a bit mawkish. Russell Wade is okay as Fettes but his performance comes off as bland, compared to those around him. Still, this is a fine horror picture. An excellent Karloff performance, some memorable visuals and a ghoulish story more than makes up for any flaws. It's not hard to see why Karloff would team with the same producer again, beginning the next phase of his career. [7/10]

Fear Itself: In Sickness and in Health

Another filmmaker who made the leap from “Masters of Horror” to “Fear Itself” was John Landis. Instead of trying to fit the Showtime show's sex and violence onto network TV, Landis instead crafted a slightly goofy homage to “Alfred Hitchcock Presents.” Samantha and Carlos are getting married. Before the ceremony, Samantha receives a note informing her that she's about to marry a serial killer. This transform what's supposed to be the happiest day of her life into a nightmare. As she attempts to get to the truth, she uncovers some other secrets about Carlos. Once again, not everything is as it seems.

“In Sickness and in Health” is pretty goofy, right down to a twist ending that barely makes any sense. Landis includes more than a few scenes of comic relief. Samantha's bridesmaids are ridiculous characters, leaping to contrived conclusions quickly. Carlos' best man is even sillier, a habit which gets him yelled at several times. Yet these comedic moments pair well with some mildly creepy scenes. The church where most of the episode is set is usually empty, decorated with creepy, hollow-eyed statues. There's more than one scene of Samantha walking through the empty church, an excellent sound design making every footstep, creak, or mysterious noise sound huge.

“Alfred Hitchcock Presents” isn't the only TV show Landis is paying homage to here. “In Sickness and In Health” stars James Roday and Maggie Lawson, who always played a romantic couple of “Psych.” (If you have any doubt that this casting was intentional, Landis previously directed three episodes of the USA Network Show.) Lawson goes well in the lead role, playing up her character's unlikely predicament for some decent comedy. Roday, some goofy and energetic on “Psych,” is too obviously threatening here. The episode would've been resolved more quickly if Roday's Carlos wasn't angry and confrontational for no reason. It's pretty light-weight stuff but “In Sickness and In Health” is another better episode of “Fear Itself.” [7/10]

Wolf Creek: Salt Lake

Episode three of “Wolf Creek,” “Salt Lake,” involves Eve Thorogood and Mick Taylor drawing closer to each other. The girl continues her journey across the outback. She encounters several faces from her recent past. Such as the pervert from the gas station and Johnny, the biker. Along the way, she also visits a roadside cafe and helps out an escaped prisoner. Meanwhile, two different men pursue her. First, police detective Sullivan attempts to track her down. Mick Taylor, meanwhile, draws closer to claiming his prey.

In “Salt Lake,” an actual cat-and-mouse game seems to be forming. Eve and Mick are on each other's trails. She finds his camp site from the night before, discovering the impaled rabbit head he left behind. He stops by same roadside cafe she was in earlier. The two very nearly encounter each other several times throughout “Salt Lake.” The episode concludes by brilliantly teasing a direct confrontation between the two. Lucy Fry's performance is growing more intense as well. A scene that could've been comedic, of Eve cutting her hair in rage, actually comes off as effective do to her acting ability.

However, “Wolf Creek” is still wasting too much time. The episode hastily resolves subplots from prior episodes. Was it really essential that Eve encounter the redneck that crudely propositioned her last episode again? The subplot about Johnny the biker resolves itself bluntly, only to set up another unneeded story. A sequence where an escaped convict stops by Eve's van in the middle of the night, helping her put a tire back on, really comes out of nowhere. By the time we discover Sullivan's wife is cheating on him, it really begins to feel like the show writers were just trying to pad out the hour. The only new addition to the story this week that I liked was Deborah Mailman as Bernadette, the mouthy owner of a cafe that was allegedly the sight of a miracle.

Jarratt and Fry's performances are keeping me hooked but “Wolf Creek's” bad habit of spinning its wheels is beginning to seriously frustrate me. Hopefully, the show picks up some steam next episode. [6/10]