Halloween 2016: October 28

The Stepford Wives (1975)

It’s a sad story that, in 2016, “The Stepford Wives” is suddenly relevant again. Just twelve years ago, the social criticism behind the film was seen as so antiquated that it was remade, not as a serious sci-fi/horror film, but as a screwball comedy. Now, with the rise of the neo-fascist alt-right and its backsliding “make me a sandwich” sexism, the film is vital again. It’s all too clear that there are hordes of modern men who would happily move to Stepford. I guess history repeats itself. The women’s lib of the 1970s spurned a fiery misogyny, which this film criticizes. Perhaps a serious remake is in order, what with the internet giving voice to “men's rights activists” and other he-man woman haters? But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s go back to 1975, to a small town in Connecticut.

Joanna is happy in New York City, with her lawyer husband, their two kids and her quasi-serious photography hobby. But Walter decides to uproot the family and move to Stepford, a seemingly idyllic suburb in New England. Walter is immediately happy there, invited to the local Men’s Club. Joanna is off-put by the quiet town. She doesn’t fit in with the wives, who are subservient, obsessed with housework, and sexually pliable. As the few other independent women in town change, this discomfort turns into a creeping suspicion that something is seriously wrong. That the men of Stepford are conspiring to keep Joanna from leaving.

“The Stepford Wives” is dated. Not just in its fashion and slang but because its liberated women are still mostly wives and mothers. The film’s presentation definitely reeks of the seventies. There’s little music, the soundtrack only piping in during the more intense or picturesque moments. The pacing is leisurely, the 115 minute run time mostly devoted to establishing life in the town. Joanna doesn’t even become aware of something weird happening until an hour in. Bryan Forbes’ direction is a bit on the dry side, though he does punctuate a few key moments with some nice camera movement. The film is peppered with overly on-the-nose symbolic gestures. During the first scene, a man carries a female mannequin down the street, for one example. That “The Stepford Wives” would become a healthy hit in 1975 shows how cultural sensibilities have changed.

Yet certain aspects of “The Stepford Wives” remains chilling. The film is based on a novel by Ira Levin, the same man who wrote “Rosemary’s Baby.” This one functions on a similar paranoia, of a woman slowly realizing she’s trapped in an awful situation by the whims of selfish men. Most everyone knows the twist, deluding some of the suspense. Even if you see the ending coming, there’s still something eerie about the story. You wonder at which moment Walter becomes aware of what will happen to his wife. The mundane men’s club meetings take on a sinister quality, especially when supported by the leering sexism of Patrick O’Neal’s ringleader. We’re given time to get to know the female characters, making their transformation into mindless robots more off-putting. The climax, set on a dark and stormy night, is still properly tense and upsetting. As is the final image, of tranquil domesticity hiding a horrible repression.

The film is also well cast. Katharine Ross, who is still most famous for “The Graduate,” displays her quiet discomfort on her face, adopting a nervous body language even before she begins to suspect the awful truth. Her confession to a shrink, that she’s either gone crazy or has uncovered something far worse, is beautifully acted. She’s still overshadowed by Paula Prentiss as best friend Bobbie. Prentiss has a wonderful energy and comedic timing, creating an immediately lovable character. This makes her eventual change into a Stepford Wife especially unnerving. Also watch out for a supporting turn from Tina “Ginger” Louise. Of the men, Patrick O’Neil as Dale Coba, the central figure of the men’s club, drips with a greasy, creepy sexism.

In the eighties and nineties, “The Stepford Wives” would spawn three made-for-television sequels. Two of which lazily switched the premise around, featuring men or children being turned into robots. The aforementioned remake was a deeply miscalculated affair, badly mangled by executive meddling. Yet the story’s most enduring impact on pop culture can be seen in how the term “Stepford Wife,” describing anyone who conforms to tradition at the sacrifice of their own personality, has entered the lexicon. Though flawed and unlikely to appeal to modern viewers, “The Stepford Wives” is still an effective story with an important message worth hearing. [7/10]

Watchers (1988)

What does one make of Dean Koontz? He’s probably one of the most popular authors to work in the horror genre. At one point, his books sold well enough to rival Stephen King. Despite this, his skills aren’t well respected. He’s generally considered a peddler of pulp. His books are airport fiction, possibly enjoyed but easily discarded. Okay, but what does one make of Dean Koontz inspired movies? “Demon Seed” was bizarre. “Phantoms” mostly survives as an in-joke in Kevin Smith movies. “Hideaway,” “Intensity” and “Odd Thomas” were forgettable. Which brings us to “Watchers,” which at least has a cult following of sorts.

A secret government laboratory goes up in flames. Two subjects escape the blast. The first of which is a seemingly ordinary Golden Retriever. The second of which is OXCOM, a hideous ape monster which gorily dismembers people. The creature is tracking the dog, driven by an obsessive desire to destroy it. Teenager Travis is caught up in this when the dog hides in his rickety old truck. He soon bonds with the canine, naming it Fur Face and discovering it’s super intelligent. The two are pursued by OXCOM, which leaves a trail of bodies in its wake, and two dangerous government agents determined to retrieve both.

The sci-fi/horror genre features a surprisingly number of boy and his dog films, such as “Bad Moon” and, uh, “A Boy and His Dog.” Though less notable then either of those, “Watchers” is more charming then expected. Corey Haim, sporting a ridiculous mullet, plays Travis as an every-teen. He’s preoccupied with getting a driver’s license and his disproportionately attractive girlfriend. He’s reluctant to keep the dog but can’t help but be won over by him. Fur Face displays exceptional intelligence immediately, opening a glove box to retrieve a candy bar. He knows who Abraham Lincoln is, can open fridges, types on a keyboard, and communicates via barking. In one especially amusing scene, the dog plays Scrabble. He even consults a dictionary! The canine actor is extremely well trained, her expressive eyes being a great benefit to the film. (The retriever is named Lala and gets third billing, by the way.) Maybe I’m a sucker for pups but the bond between Trevor and Fur Face is quite sweet.

The awesome dog isn’t the sole star of “Watchers.” There’s also the monster. We only get brief glimpses of the beast. This is probably because the bumpy skinned, orange sasquatch is visually underwhelming. “Watchers” features many scenes of unimportant side characters getting tore apart. A trio of childish teens on bikes are chased through the forest, splattered off-screen. A janitor is tossed into a hook, a deputy has her eyes torn out, and a handyman’s head is throw in a washing machine. Some of these characters, such as the old guy growing pot or the hotel cleaning lady, exist solely to up the body count. The chase scenes are mildly suspenseful, especially when the ape chases the dog through Trevor’s house, leading to a leap from a window. The gore is standard but mildly amusing.

In Koontz’ book, the hero isn’t a teenager but a former Special Forces operative. The movie compromises by making the kid the son of a Delta Force ranger. This provides Haim’s protagonist with a special set of skills. He’s a crack shot with a rifle, a pro with a Molotov cocktail, and can set up explosive booby traps. In a likely steal from the previous year’s “Predator,” there’s an extended montage devoted to Haim setting up these traps. Haim utilizes these abilities to defeat the monster by… Shooting it in the face? I don’t know about you but, in a one-on-one fight between a surly sasquatch and Corey Haim, the Bigfoot has my vote. Less underwhelming is Michael Ironside’s increasingly unhinged performance as the government agent tracking the dog. Ironside can always be counted on to bring laser point intensity to a part, no matter how shaky the script is.

I suspect “Watchers” was frequently rented by two demographics: Young horror fans and teenage girls with a crush on Haim. My evidence to support this are the four direct-to-video sequels that would follow. Weirdly, none of these films actually continue the story. Instead, they are basically remakes, telling similar tales of super smart dogs fighting super pissed monsters. They ditched the teenage angle though, instead casting Marc Singer, Wings Hauser, and Mark Hamill as the heroes. I have no idea if the sequels equal to the original, though I’d wager they don’t. I can’t call “Watchers” a classic, as it’s too silly for that. However, it is an easy film to throw on, to have a few laughs at. [7/10]

Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers: Life’s a Masquerade

Next year, a big budget film version of “Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers” is hitting theaters. Because all bits of nineties nostalgia is doomed to be rebooted at one hundred times the budget. Last year, I reviewed what I thought was the only Halloween episode of “Power Rangers” but there’s apparently another. “Life’s a Masquerade” isn’t explicitly set in October. Instead, the setting is a generic costume party, without a time of year being specified. However, a Frankenstein and Dracula costume feature prominently so that’s good enough for me.

Every episode of “Power Rangers” has an extremely formulaic plot. “Life’s a Masquerade” is no different. Moon dwelling supervillain Rita Repulsa has instructed Finster, her monster making expert, to build more powerful versions of the Putties, Rita’s easily defeated foot soldiers. In order to distract the Power Rangers from this quest, she sends a different monster. A Frankenstein Monster arrives at the costume party the Rangers are attending. The other five at first assume the monster to be Tommy, the sixth Power Ranger, in disguise. Soon enough, they realize this Frankenstein’s Monster is the real deal.

Knowing “Power Rangers” episodes are cobbled together from old Japanese TV shows can help you understand why the series can be so disjointed. The plot involving the Super Putties goes absolutely nowhere. Rita floats on a giant ball of clay at one point, for seemingly no reason. Billy the Blue Ranger leaves the party, follows the Frankenstein Monster to a cave, and has a brief fight for him. A minute later, he’s back at the party. The costume party subplot is ridiculous, as far too much of the episode is devoted to Bulk and Skull, the idiotic bullies/punching bag, deciding what their costume should be. This sequence features the two dressing as Skinny Elvis and Fat Elvis before they just decide to go as themselves. It’s super dumb and poorly written.

That’s not why I watch “Power Rangers,” as a kid or as an adult. I’m in it for the bonkers giant monster action. Considering some of the bizarre creatures the Rangers would fight over the years, a grey-skinned Frankenstein seems almost quint. Yet the series had to put their own stamp on the character. For one, he talks. Later, he sprays fire from his mouth. He removes the bolts in his neck and connect them by a chain, forming crude nunchuks. After the monster grows into a giant, as every “Power Rangers” monster does, the Rangers have to combine the Megazord and the DragonZord – two separate giant robots they pilot – to defeat the creature. How do stop Frankenstein? By drilling a huge ass hole in his fucking chest, which is pretty grisly for a kid’s show. Obviously, those without a nostalgic connection to the show will be completely baffled by this. It’s incredibly dumb but entertaining for those who grew up with it. [7/10]

Michael Jackson’s Thriller (1981)

What is there to write about “Thriller” that hasn’t already been written? Say what you will about Michael Jackson the man but Michael Jackson the pop musician was a genius. “Thriller” has long been considered the greatest music video of all time. It’s certainly one of the most famous. You don’t need me to tell you the general gist but I’ll go ahead anyway. A guy and his date leave a scary movie after she become spooked. Walking home from the theater, the two encounter a troupe of dancing zombies, of which the boyfriend becomes the leader of. We later discover this is just a bad dream the girl is having… Or is it?

“Thriller,” as a cornerstone of our collective popular culture, is more-or-less above criticism. The short film has been so widely absorbed that even a scholarly reading is difficult to attempt. There’s something to said for the way the movie blends different horror trappings. The opening film-within-the-film is clearly set in the 1950s, as evident by the fashion Michael and his date are wearing. Yet his transformation into a were-cat is provided by Rick Baker in much the same style as John Landis’ previous film, “An American Werewolf in London.” We next segue into the then modern day, Michael and his date slipping into eighties fashion including that famous red jacket. The zombies that soon appear also from a different era of horror, clearly inspired by 1968’s “Night of the Living Dead.” (The zombies cornering the girl in the house also recalls Romero’s classic.) Jackson’s music video piles different influences and styles together to form a glorious monster movie tapestry.

Even this isn’t the real reason I love the music video. Mostly, it’s just for the awesome factor. Such as Vincent Price delivering his “rap” while the zombies pull themselves from their grave, Landis piling on all the atmosphere the $500,000 budget could afford. The dancing zombies are also amazing, the choreography being widely imitated but rarely equaled. The zombie make-up is still creepy, even if Landis’ sense of humor shines through during the dance number. Or, especially, the closing credit bit of the zombies goofing off in the graveyard. Yeah, I love the song too, even if it inevitably appears on everyone’s Halloween playlist. There’s a reason “Thriller” is such a late October stalwart. Every minute of it is brilliant. [9/10]

Halloween 2016: October 27

Severance (2006)

Christopher Smith feels like a filmmaker that should’ve had a bigger career. I suppose he’s done well for himself. He’s directed six features and one television mini-series over the course of sixteen years. Almost all of them have been very well received. Films like “Creep” and “Black Death” have earned him a sizable cult following from horror fans. Yet it just feels like he’s not the respected, well known name he should be. That should speak to how well made and likable his films are. “Severance” is probably my favorite of his, a grisly horror/comedy with some heavier issues on its mind.

Seven workers for Palisades Defense, a manufacturer of military grade weapons and munitions, are taking a work retreat in the Hungarian moments. After the bus finds a downed tree blocking the path, manager Richard insists they take a second path through the woods. The driver refuses, prompting the group to trek through the forest on their own. Instead of finding the luxury suite they were promised, they discover a dilapidated old house. They shack up there anyway, also at Richard’s insistence. Everyone has heard the legends about the locations. How the house was an insane asylum or a hiding ground for former Soviet war criminals. What they don’t know is that the legend is true. Violent ex-soldiers roam the woods and soon go hunting for the workers.

“Severance” walks a very tricky tonal tightrope. The gore in the film is similar to then-trendy “torture porn” films. One character has his leg graphically severed in a bear trap. Later, he’s tied to a chair and his flesh is sliced away. Another character is tied to a tree and slowly, sadistically burn. The gunshot wounds are graphic and seeping. Yet the intense gore is often undercut by a delightful sense of humor. The above severed leg is shoved into a mini-fridge. A fight to the death concludes with a character struggling to pick up a big rock. An important phone call segues into ridiculous hold music. A dramatic reveal involving a bazooka goes hilariously wrong.

Smith makes great use of comedic foreshadowing. A character discusses how a decapitated head can still feel for several minutes. He later experiences this first hand. Someone shot during a paintball game is later actually shot. During that same game “going Rambo” is discouraged. A character later successfully employs that exact strategy. Smith often undercuts the brutal gore with soft listening music. The film successfully shocks the viewer with intense violence and then makes them laugh by swinging back hard towards absurdist comedy.

Smith has a lot of fun messing with the viewer. A dream sequence, in which the boss is propositioned by the American hottie, gets weird. Danny Dyer’s Steve is high on magic mushrooms for most of the movie, leading to bizarre hallucinations. Yet my favorite such flight of fancy is when different characters describe the area’s past. Stuffy Harris imagines the insane asylum story as a 1920s silent horror film. There’s a coachman with long fingernails, right out of “Nosferatu,” and the story’s twist is directly from Poe’s “The System of Dr. Tarr.” Jill, a woman so socially conscious that she won’t even kill a spider, corrects him. Her version of events are a gritty documentary on war crimes. The aforementioned stoner, meanwhile, imagines a tawdry soft core porn likely inspired by the likes of “Confessions of a Window Cleaner.” His story features busty, scantily clad nurses descending on the first virile male they encounter. It’s a clever update of the old slasher movie stand-by, of the villain's origins being told as a campfire story. It also shows Smith is adapt at aping other styles.

A lot of nasty gore flicks from around the turn of the century set their films in former Soviet countries. Maybe they were ripping off “Hostel” or referencing the atrocities in Kosovo. Maybe we as a culture were still hung over from the Cold War. Usually it’s for no deeper reason. “Severance,” on the other hand, has something specific in mind. Palisade Defenses makes weapons, selling death and destruction to foreign countries. The crazed men who attack them do so with the weapons Palisades produces. By dropping the employees into such an area, where they are murdered by war criminals wielding the weapons they sell, brings the gravity of their job home. There’s an implicit criticism of first world war profiteering, of Americans and Europeans damning countries they’ll never travel to, can’t even find on a map, to death and destruction.

“Severance” is very well cast. The actors take parts that might’ve been indistinct on paper and turn them into full blown characters. Laura Harris as Maggie, the sole American on the trip, emerges as the unlikely hero. She’s tough enough to blast attackers with a shotgun or smash heads with rocks. She’s also the most reasonable of the group. Steve isn’t reasonable, as he spends most of the movie high. Amusing, he also makes it to the end, the character surviving based on an previously unknown slickness. Toby Stephens is hilarious as Harris, a stuck-up know-it-all. Andy Nyman’s Gordon is an awkward nerd that just wants everyone to have a good time. Babou Ceesayu’s Billy is similarly charming in his dorkiness, harboring an unrequited crush on Maggie. Claudie Blakley’s Jill is somewhat stern but makes the most right decisions out of the cast. Even Tim McInnerny’s Richard, who begins the film as a complete tool, redeems himself before the end. The characters are slightly exaggerated but we come to care about them nevertheless.

I haven’t seen “Severance” since it first hit DVD back in 2006. Now I wonder what took me so long to revisit it. It’s rare that a film makes you squirm and laugh this much. Christopher Smith’s other horror credits would be mostly serious but I hope he someday returns to something like “Severance,” balancing horror and humor in a wonderful way. [8/10]

Don’t Go in the Woods (1981)

Around 2009, friends of mine wanted to make a micro-budget horror film, utilizing a local forested property owned by a family member as the setting. I was drafted to create the screenplay. I cooked up “Earth Day,” a somewhat sarcastic homage to eighties slasher flicks, featuring a nudist killer dispatching anybody who disrespect nature. Though “The Prey” was my main inspiration, I envisioned a hard rock version of the theme song from “Don’t Go in the Woods” playing over the end credits. Through an IMDb message board, I contacted James Bryon, this movie’s director. He kindly passed the contact information for the film’s composer on to me, in hopes of making this dream come true. “Earth Day” was obviously never made but I’ll always remember that act of kindness. Now let’s talk about “Don’t Go in the Woods.”

Describing the plot of “Don’t Go in the Woods” is an act that is either absurdly easy or insanely difficult. The simplest version? Unrelated individuals wander into the same stretch of Utah woods and are murdered by a spear-wielding, forest dwelling madman. No explanation is provided for the wild man’s murderous tendencies, though it’s implied that he may have rabies. Eventually, the film comes to focus on a group of four hikers, two men and their girlfriends. In time, they encounter the killer and get separated. Some make it back to town and some don’t. This, however, doesn’t describe the strange, numbing mood the film draws the viewer into. Welcome to “Don’t Go in the Woods,” where characters do not matter and everything happens for no reason.

It would not be inaccurate to describe “Don’t Go in the Woods” as a series of unrelated murder scenes. A bird watcher has his arm hacked off. A painter has her blood splattered against her canvas. A man is caught in a hammock, helpless to fight back against the blade penetrating him. A bear trap on a wench swings into somebody’s face. The special effects are crude, the blood clearly being fake, the severed limbs obviously from dummies. We have no reason to care about this mayhem. Yet, occasionally, a weirdly poetic moment emerges. Such as an abandoned camera floating in a stream. Or a baby, left alone after her mother is killed. Eventually, the long scenes of people running, screaming, through the woods creates an unnerving atmosphere. The film’s unrelenting mayhem was enough to earn it a spot on the U.K. Video Nasty list, winning it a certain degree of notoriety.

Through the unending scenes of blood and gore, a goofy sense of humor emerges. One of the Wild Man’s countless victims is a couple vacationing in a shaggin’ wagon. The man is named Dick and the woman is named Cherry, two obvious double entendres. Far weirder is that poster of Farrah Fawcett attached to the ceiling. Or Cherry’s inability to close a door. Or Dick’s half-hearted attempts to intimidate the intruder. Even stranger is the obese man in a wheelchair, who takes several long scenes to make it up a mountaintop. Once he reaches the top, his head is nonchalantly cut off. I can imagine a similar scene playing out on one of those anti-comedy shows the college students love. Confirming that at least some of these scenes are meant to be funny is H. Kingsley Thurber’s bizarre score. While mostly composed of shrieking, discordant synth notes, he occasionally punctuates scenes with a cornball “comedy” music, made up of honking clown noises.

Compared to these visual non-sequiturs, the more traditional scenes are less interesting. We learn nothing about the four hikers. The bucktoothed redhead is Ingrid, her boyfriend is Pete. There’s another couple, the hiking expert and his smoking hot girlfriend, with the short brown hair and very tight pants. They wander the woods, occasionally being attacked by the killer. Even after escaping, they wander back into the woods. Sometimes they live, sometimes they die. The cute brunette is brutally cut down by the murderer. A mildly clever moment has a random person being mistaken for the Wild Man, being killed in accidental self-defense. There’s the required fat sheriff, who talks to people at the office, follows leads, but ultimately contributes little to the film. It’s not surprising that the shrieking madman is the most interesting character, with his creatively decorated cabin and beads dangling over his face. It doesn’t matter. “Don’t Go in the Woods” isn’t about character or story. It’s a baffling audio/visual experience, a trash-horror mood piece, a shrieking tone poem. An accidental art film.

“Don’t Go in the Woods” is a film that has been poorly reviewed over the years. It’s a rare situation where I can’t disagree with anything negative said about the film. Objectively, “Don’t Go in the Woods” is a bad film. The pacing is terrible, the acting is awful, the music is tone deaf, the story is practically nonexistent. The utter creative construction of the film is incoherent. Yet all of this undersells the strange, hypnotizing effect “Don’t’ Go in the Woods” has on its audience. It’s often funny, sometimes on purpose. Occasionally, it’s eerie, probably accidentally. Overall, it truly seems like a production from another universe, made by aliens with no use for traditional narrative structure. It’s not a film, it’s a desperate cry for help. [Objective Quality: 2/10] [Entertainment Factor: 9/10]

The Simpsons: Treehouse of Horror

The annual “Simpsons” Treehouse of Horror episode is a tradition by this point, with this year’s installment being the twenty-eighth installment. But, if your memory stretches back that far, think back to the first “Treehouse of Horror.” There was no precedence in the series for an episode like this, a collection of non-canon tales that could stretch in any grotesque, grisly, or weird direction imaginable. The show was such a success that, every Halloween, the “Simpsons” writers would let themselves go crazy, visiting all sorts of morbid situations on the sitcom cast. The first one didn’t even have the horror puns in the opening credits! While not as funny as future Halloween editions, the first “Treehouse of Horror” is still a classic.

Future versions would skip the framing device – Bart and Lisa telling scary stories in the backyard tree house – that set up this collection of ghoulish tales. “Bad Dream House” is a riff on haunted house stories, the Simpsons buying a new home that desires to murder them. “Hungry are the Damned” spoofs the famous “Twilight Zone” episode “To Serve Man.” The family is abducted by aliens – Kang and Kodos in their first appearance – who pamper them with food for seemingly sinister reasons. Lastly, “The Raven” cast Homer and Bart as the key figures in Edgar Allen Poe’s famous poem of gothic horror and existential dread.

“Bad Dream House” is by far the funniest of the three segments and probably my favorite. The haunted house setting presents several great surreal gags. Like the portal to another dimension in the kitchen, Lisa keeping a butcher knife in her bedroom draw, Homer floating towards the ceiling, or Bart mistaking the house’s command to kill for his conscience. Yet the segment is at its funniest when subverting expectations. Marge breaks the home’s control over the family simply by yelling at it, uncharacteristically loosing her temper. Afterwards, the family begins to demand things of their haunted home. Such as Bart insisting the walls bleed. The flat reveal of the Indian burial ground, and Homer’s reaction to it, are other fantastic gags.

“Hungry are the Damned” is amusing, even if it basically has one joke. The entire segment builds towards the reveal of the cook book, the episode doubling back on Red Serling’s famous twist several times. The ending, where the Simpsons are kicked out by the aliens for not trusting them, is a funny if downbeat conclusion. Mostly, the segment is devoted to food based puns. Like Marge being called “a dish.” Or silly gags about the aliens’ technology, featuring cable television and pong. At the very least, Kodos and Kang would become beloved, reoccurring characters. James Earl Jones’ Serak the Prepaper, meanwhile, would not presumably because of the big name voice talent.

What I most like about “The Raven” is how it comments on the perception of horror changing throughout history. Bart repeatedly butts into the story, declaring it not scary for various reasons. Homer, in the episode’s denouncement, is terrified. Which goes to show how this genre can be different things to different people. Mostly, I enjoy how the segment illustrates Poe’s famous poem. Homer-as-Narrator being swept away by his dreams is a nice moment. There’s also several cute visual jokes, such as the book being entitled “Forgotten Lore Vol. II” and Marge-as-Lenore’s portrait featuring her extra tall hairdo. The additions to Poe’s text, like Homer angrily chasing after Bart-as-the-Raven, are goofy but appreciated. And you have to commend Dan Castellaneta for delivering Poe’s text through Homer’s goofball voice and Jones’ expectedly sonorous narration.

It’s easy to see why the writers would love this idea so much. Who could resist turning their traditional animated sitcom into three separate horror/comedies once a year? The episode begins with Marge warning the audience of the show’s content, in a loose parody of “Frankenstien’s” opening scene. Which is absolutely quint by modern standards, as there’s not a single graphic or explicit part of this episode. [8/10]

Lot 254 (2012)

Here’s another horror short recommendation from the depths of Google. “Lot 254” is entitled for the auction number on an old movie camera. Purchased by a collector of cameras – as evident by his room being full of old film cans and projectors – the short begins with him winding up the device. After looking through the camera, he notices a pale skin ghoul with a creepy grin. Naturally, the spectre is only visible through the camera. The short has a predictable ending, I’ll just say that.

Sadly, “Lot 254” is another disappointment. It starts promising, generating some decent mood with the music and sound design. However, as soon as the spooky faced phantom appears, the short falls apart into a series of overly loud, obnoxious jump scares. When will promising horror filmmakers realize that just throwing something ugly in the audience’s face, always accompanied by a deafening noise, isn’t enough? At the very least, the production values are pretty good for an obviously modest film. And it’s under five minutes long too, so I didn’t waste much time on it. [5/10]

Halloween 2016: October 26

Village of the Damned (1960)

The older I get, the more I appreciate the British sci-fi/horror films of the sixties. Along with Nigel Kneale’s Quatermass films, “Village of the Damned” is a landmark example of this movement. These films combine science fiction concepts with insidious horror thrills, putting an especially paranoid riff on the genre befitting the Cold War era. Based off John Wyndham’s “The Midwich Cuckoos,” the film was one of the earliest creepy kids movie. Films in that category usually don’t do much for me. However, this one is an exception, becoming more effective by rooting its killer kids in some cosmic horror.

A strange malady befalls the idyllic British village of Midwich. Everybody within the town’s limits fall unconscious. Those that enter the village are similarly effected. After a few hours, everyone wakes up, a little cold but otherwise fine. Until the news comes out that every healthy woman in town is pregnant, regardless of age and experience. Several months later, they all give birth on the same night. Each of the children have silver-blonde hair. They also display unusual intelligence, their minds developing much faster then usual, and little traditional morality. As the children grow older, they develop terrifying psychic powers, causing the townsfolk to live in fear. Local doctor Gordon Zellaby begins to suspect that the children are planning a take-over.

Most horror films about creepy kids are happy to smear some ridiculous make-up around their eyes and have them whisper vaguely sinister things. “Village of the Damned” has a more nuanced take on the concept. The children of Midwich have had their humanity stripped away. The silver/blonde hair each child has deliberately brings stories of Nazi experimentation and Aryan Hitler youth to mind. They speak not with overdone creepy affectations but calmly, orderly. Yet for all their intelligence, the children also display the impatience and lack of empathy of young kids. Something about their hypnotizing eyes – glowing a soft gold – ordering their victims to kill themselves is creepier then the kids just doing it themselves.

“Village of the Damned” isn’t merely a story of morality lacking, creepily synchronized kids. The film brilliantly blends sci-fi and horror. The opening presents a tantalizing mystery. Why are the people of Midwich falling unconscious? Why have the women become pregnant? We hear stories about other events such as these happening around the world. Even by the end, we never receive concrete answers. (One such colony goes very badly, setting up some excellent foreshadow.) While an extraterrestrial intelligence is assumed to be responsible, there’s also the implication that the kids are the next step in human evolution. That their disregard for morality and lesser humans is a mark of them being “superior.” Their intelligence and psychic abilities also point towards them being developed. By raising questions of what it means to be human, “Village of the Damned” manages to scare the audience and make them think.

A few days ago, I saw Martin Stephens play a rambunctious boy in “The Innocents.” Here, he’s perfectly controlled, calmly and quietly going about his business, acting very much unlike a normal child. Despite having two excellent performances under his belt before the age of twelve, Stephens retired from acting before adulthood. George Sanders plays an unlikely hero, a man of science who is intrigued by the children at first. After he becomes aware of their monstrous behavior, he carefully walks on egg shells around them, frightened by calm. When he realizes what he most do, there’s a touching scene of him saying goodbye to his dog. As Sanders’ much younger wife is scream queen Barbara Shelley. Shelley’s fragility is her greatest strength, paired with a bubbly sweetness. This is best displayed when she happily announces her pregnancy, long before her apprehension grows into fear.

After the threat is seemingly dispelled, the glowing eyes of the demonic children float across the screen, towards the audience. This has got to be one of my favorite “Or is it?” endings, subtly suggesting the children’s advanced minds can live beyond their bodies. While “Village of the Damned” is a bit on the dry side, I love the little details of country living it incorporates. Such as the priest refusing to reveal his parishioners' secrets, even after the strange pregnancies begin. MGM had little faith in the film in 1960 but it would become a surprise hit, spawning a quality sequel four years later and a less solid remake in 1995. The original still stands above all other stories of malevolent children. [8/10]

The Final Terror (1983)

Not a Halloween passes without me talking about how the internet affected my horror fandom. Through cyber space I was introduced to films I never would’ve heard of otherwise. But sometimes the internet has bad information. Before I became a hardened slasher veteran, I used to search around for info about this subgenre. One website, mostly devoted to “Friday the 13th,” featured reviews of less well known titles. This is where I first heard of “My Bloody Valentine.” It’s also where I first heard of “Don’t Go in the Woods.” Years later, I’d see that film but would recognize none of the scenes referenced in the review. Shortly afterward, I saw “The Final Terror,” which was the film this particular review was actually describing. Those are the kind of rookie mistakes people wouldn’t tolerate now but often went overlooked in the late nineties.

A group of six young men, part of some sort of military training, take a camping trip into the redwood forest. It’s ostensibly a work exercise, the recruits chopping up trees and learning to live off the land. There’s an alternative reason beind the journey though. Four women have also been invited. However, the planned weekend of sex and drugs is interrupted when people in the group start disappearing. Something in the woods is stalking them. Is it Eggar, the eccentric leader, or is another entity responsible?

“The Final Terror” was released in 1983 but filmed three years earlier, making it one of the directly post-“Halloween” slasher flicks. So the clichés the script freely partakes in where only just formulating. The teens hang out in the woods, smoking pot and eating magic mushrooms. The killer’s origin is first told to us as a campfire legend. A couple who sneak away for some hanky-panky are immediately killed. The murderer leaves trophies, decapitated heads and dead bodies left hanging around for potential victims to find. Yet in some ways, “The Final Terror” defies expectations. Both of the black characters survive to the end. A guy left alone in the woods as a prank isn’t killed either. Even though there are nine named characters, the body count is ultimately very low. In some ways, the film is as much “Deliverance” as “Friday the 13th,” focusing on the characters surviving in the woods.

“The Final Terror” is probably most notable for the unusual amount of known actors in its cast. Rachel Ward pre-“Thorn Birds,” Daryl Hannah pre-“Blade Runner,” Adrian Zmed pre-“T. J. Hooker,” and Mark Metcaff post-“Animal House” all play members of the troop. Sadly, all their parts are fairly indistinct with only Metcaff, as the hard ass of the group, becoming memorable. Most of the characters are interchangeable. The best character in the film is Joe Pantoliano as Eggar. Pantoliano is nicely unhinged, exploding in random fits of anger. Considering how much the others pick on him, his rage seems somewhat justified. The script surely did them no favors but it’s easy to see why Pantoliano’s career would outlast any of the above mentioned names. John Friedrich, as Zorich, is equally colorful but more irritating.

If you go into “The Final Terror” expecting a gore fest, you’ll be disappointed. There’s a stab to the back, a decapitated head falling off a shelf, a mostly off-screen throat slashing, and a fall from a great height. The killer employs booby traps more often then knife blades. A branch with rusty can lids attached or an axe swinging in to smash a window are two examples. Ultimately, “The Final Terror” relies more on atmosphere then special effects. The rainy woods are a decent setting, the film getting a lot out of the towering trees and damp leaves. The killer is rarely seen, using a moss covered coat to camouflage itself. The ending is very memorable, the killer’s true identity being a decent twist. The murderer’s final fate is pulled off colorfully. This stuff is nice but doesn’t quite make up for the slow pace and lack of interesting cast members.

For years, “The Final Terror” was only available as a scratchy VHS, a overly dark transfer making the movie hard to watch. I rated the movie very poorly the first time I saw it partially because of this. Now that a Blu-Ray is available, you can appreciate the positive things the film accomplishes a little more easily. (Scream Factory, being the pros they are, still apologize for the slightly scratchy print.) Director Andrew Davis would go on to direct many action flicks, including “Code of Silence,” “Above the Law,” “Under Siege,” and “The Fugitive.” Perhaps horror wasn’t his preferred genre? The film has a few clever moments but they aren’t enough to make up for the standard script and bland characters. [5/10]

There’s Nothing Out There (1991)

Speaking of films first recommended to me on the internet! I had never heard of “There’s Nothing Out There” before reading BadMovies.org’s glowing review of it. The film is an example of a sub-genre that wouldn’t come into vogue for a few more years: The self-aware horror/comedy. Some times before “Scream” was quipping about the clichés of horror movies, Rolfe Kanefsky’s scrappy indie was doing much the same. Despite all of this, the film has never garnered much attention.

A group of friends gather at a lakeside cabin for a weekend of partying and debauchery. Most of the guys have girlfriends, with which much humping soon ensues. Except for Mike. Mike notices the strange car wreck on the side of the road. Or the strange rustling in the bushes. For, you see, Mike is a horror movie expert, all to aware of the clichés of the genre. After his friends start to disappear, Mike realizes he’s in a horror movie scenario. An alien creature, with big teeth and hypnotizing eyes, is attacking the cabin.

“There’s Nothing Out There” is a direct ancestor to “Scream,” whether Kevin Williamson realized it or not. The film comments on horror stereotypes in a similar fashion. The opening nightmare scene, set in a video store horror section, features countless recognizable VHS boxes. A great gag involves a spring loaded cat leaping out of nowhere. When Mike sees something odd moving in the bushes, he pointedly does not investigate. When couples disappear in the woods, he writes them off as dead. He boards up windows and wears home-made armor, ready for the monster attack at any moment. While others wonder where the creature came from, Mike focuses on trying to kill it. “There’s Nothing Out There” is more horror/comedy then horror parody. Save for a moment near the end when a boom mic lowers into frame… And a character uses it to swing away from the monster! Many reviews have accused Mike’s know-it-all tendencies of being annoying. To each his own. I thoroughly enjoy the character, as played by a perfectly snarky Craig Peck.

The film was the directorial debut of Kanefsky. Later in his career, Kanefsky would write and direct several Skinimex flicks with titles like “Sex Files” and “The Erotic Misadventures of the Invisible Man.” I suspect this wasn’t a compromise on Rolfe’s behalf. “There’s Nothing Out There” is preoccupied with naked women. An early scene has a gang of punks driving up to the lake and leaping in. All the women take off their tops, the camera lingering on one especially busty lass. Every female character in the film gets nude. Most of these are during gratuitous, extended sex scenes or skinny dipping sequences. During one monster attack, a female co-star has her top torn open. In the final act, all the surviving women are wearing either a swimsuit or panties and a large t-shirt. While the film is self-aware about most things, its abundance of nudity is shamelessly sleazy.

In keeping with its self-aware nature, “There’s Nothing Out There” takes a while to reveal its monster. In early scenes, the creature is mostly represented by point-of-view shots. When it does slither on-screen, it’s an intentionally ridiculous looking creation. Squat and green, it’s slightly resembles a frog. It’s huge mouth is exaggerated. Its tentacles awkwardly reach for the actors. The mind control gimmick, introduced late in the film, mostly exist as a cost-saving measure, I suspect. The effects are goofy and crude but suitable for what the movie sets out to do. How Mike defeats the alien is just as silly, involving shaving cream and an oven. While some of the scenes border seriousness, “There’s Nothing Out There’s” central threat is knowingly ridiculous.

The film doesn’t entirely rely on jokey horror references and wanton nudity. There’s an occasional nice bit of absurdity, such as someone making comments about “falling clouds.” The film would never rival “Scream.” It’s far too silly for that. However, it is nice to know that someone before Kevin Williamson was making observations about the rules and stereotypes of the eighties horror film. “There’s Nothing Out There” would eventually get picked up by Troma, which seems like a good match even if the film is slightly less crass then the studio’s usual output. [7/10]

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Nightmare in the Lair

Remember that time the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles met Freddy Krueger, basically? I discovered this episode a few years back when binge watching the series and decided to revisit it during this year’s Blog-a-thon. Resident turtle genius Donatello invents a new device called the Dream-o-Vision. The machine has the ability to project dreams as if they were films. While testing the machine, the turtles encounter a bizarre phantom in a stripped sweater. After Michelangelo plays with the machine later, he runs into the spectre again. Calling himself Creepy Eddie, he torments the turtles and schemes to enter the world of the waking.

Anytime one revisits a show from their childhood, they must keep their expectations reeled in. Once you remove nostalgia, the Fred Wolf “Ninja Turtles” cartoon wasn’t cheaply animated, highly repetitive, with ridiculous scripts and simplistic characters. Indeed, there’s plenty of shenanigans in “Nightmare in the Lair” to make one roll their eyes. The entire Dream-o-Vision concept is ridiculous. The constant pizza puns are exhausting. The moral lesson – Splinter encourages the turtles not to watch so much television – is lame. Creepy Eddie’s dialogue is often overly expository. The entire subplot revolving around April O’Neil, Irma, and Vern kissing up to the boss’ son is awful. It features pathetic slapstick, easily predicted punchlines, and doesn’t connect to the main story at all. It’s like a bad sitcom.

Once you get over that, “Nightmare in the Lair” is goofy fun.  Creepy Eddie isn’t exactly Freddy – no claws or burns, top hat instead of fedora, orange and blue stripes instead of green and red – but the inspiration is obvious. He even cracks goofy one-liners and has a similar voice! The nightmare scenes are completely G-rated, of course. Eddie turns into an evil wave in Mikey’s surfing dream, an evil goalie in his hockey dream, and sends movie monster after him in the final nightmare. In reality, he sics a sabre tooth tiger on Splinter and glues the Turtles’ feet to the floor. It’s silly but you can definitely imagine the real Freddy doing similar tricks. The conclusion is underwhelming – April disrupts Eddie’s plan and then Donnie blows him the fuck up – but this is still an amusing dumb half-hour. Assuming you have a stomach for these kind of kids show shenanigans. Now how come Playmates never made a Creepy Eddie action figure? [7/10]

Coffer (2014)

After watching David F. Sandberg turn his effective short “Lights Out” into a just okay feature, I decided to revisit one of his shorts. “Coffer” was likely a deliberate attempt to recapture the success of Sandberg’s most popular short. In both, Lotta Losten – Sandberg’s wife – plays a woman alone in an apartment. Something ordinary becomes frightening. The lid to the living room coffer begins to open, much like the apparition appearing in the hallway. She makes attempt to counter this invasion, by either flicking off the lights or sitting on the coffer lid. In the end, the monster gets her anyway. Both shorts conclude by giving us a good look at the creature.

It’s obvious the director has a formula but it’s an effective one, as “Coffer” is nearly as scary as “Lights Out.” Both shorts build suspense via repetitive actions. In one, it’s the ghost appearing with ever flicker of the light. In “Coffer,” it’s the creaking noise of the lid. Lotta, partially due to her every woman quality, panics extremely well, increasing the tension the audience feels. The slow reveal of the coffer’s weirdness, as it features a seemingly bottomless pit, is a nice touch. The only issue I have with “Coffer” is the ending. While showing the face of the “Lights Out” ghost was a nice shock to end that short on, revealing the shadow monster dwelling inside the coffer is less effective. Still, this is a really well produced short that gets the exact reaction out of its viewer that it seeks. [7/10]

Halloween 2016: October 25

Stoker (2013)

A few years back, it seemed like a wave of critically lauded Korean filmmakers were coming to America to reinvent the wheel. Instead, things kind of petered out, at least commercially. Joon-ho Bong’s “Snowpiercer” was mishandled by its distributor. Jee-woon Kim’s “The Last Stand” failed to connect with audiences. Out of the three, Chan-Wook Park’s “Stoker” probably got the best treatment. A gothic-tinged, dark psychological thriller like this was never going to be a big box office hit. Though some felt the film was disappointing compared to Park’s Korean films, many loved it. Including me, where the film became my favorite release of 2013. A few years later, how does it hold up?

On the eve of her eighteenth birthday, India Stoker’s father has died. Rejected by her emotionally distant mother and unpopular at school, India finds solace in an unexpected place. Her uncle Charlie, who she had never met before, moves into the sprawling, family house. At first, India isn’t sure what to make of this man. This man who takes a special interest in her, this man who is seducing her mother. Soon enough, India realizes that Uncle Charlie has something in common with her. Both have secrets. Both are capable of horrible things.

“Stoker” has got to be one of the darkest coming-of-age stories ever committed to film. It’s essentially a story about a young girl accepting her blood lust, coming into her own as a serial killer. Watching the heroine dig deeper into Uncle Charlie’s dark history is fascinating. The viewer often wonders which path India will choose. Will she ignore her homicidal tendencies or will she become evil? The film directly connects India’s murderous awakening with her sexual one, furthering casting the story as a dark subversion of becoming tales. Like any adolescent, she’s moving away from her parents, forging her own path. But India’s path is far more disturbing then what you’d expect. Mia Wasikowska is mesmerizing as India. She speaks volumes with her steely gaze.

“Stoker” is also a story about the rivalries within a family. Mother Evelyn barely tolerates her eccentric daughter. She dismisses her interests and shows no need to understand her daughter’s mood. In time, Evelyn comes to see India as a romantic rival. In a chilling monologue, Nicole Kidman generating a disturbing intensity, she wishes hell on the girl. Yet mother/daughter conflicts aren’t the only ones present in “Stoker.” In time, we learn the truth behind Uncle Charlie’s travels around the world. The reason India’s father never introduce her to her uncle is revealed in a shocking flashback. That initial, hideous crime was itself motivated by sibling rivalry. “Stoker” portrays family not as a warmth place where everyone accepts you. It’s the opposite, a cold grave eager to judge and reject you.

If the committed performances and twisted script don’t appeal to you, maybe “Stoker’s” incredible visual sense will catch your eye. Chan-Wook Park’s direction is spellbinding. The camera sweeps around the characters. A brilliant sequence, set at a piano, seamlessly passes around the room. As India reads through her uncle’s letters, the words and images pile up on screen. The editing is brilliant, cutting between the past and the present, giving both events meaning. Park also packs the film full of visual symbolism. As Uncle Charlie influences India, a spider crawls up her skirt. Nature documentaries, discussing the predatory habits of falcons, are always playing on TV, invoking the characters’ murderous impulse. Shoes are presented as symbols of maturity, India casting off childish penny loafers and slipping on high heels. Metronomes, sand castles, belts, ice cream, and blood sprayed flowers are just some of the ordinary objects the film invests with a deeper meaning.

It’s a ludicrous simplification but I’ve described “Stoker” as a darker, more grounded take on “The Addams Family,” if Gomez was dead, Mortica hated everyone, and Fester was mentoring Wednesday in the ways of bloodshed. The gothic mansion setting and Wasikowska’s black locks, framing her pale face, point towards the comparison. The title, meanwhile, suggest a story about vampires. A desire to kill passed on along bloodlines does sound a bit like vampires, doesn’t it? Most surprisingly, “Stoker” was written by television actor Wentworth Miller. (Miller also wrote a prequel called “Uncle Charlie” that has yet to be filmed.) Who would’ve thought that the guy from “Prison Break” could’ve written such an impressive film? [9/10]

Orca (1977)

The seventies and eighties were the golden years for overseas rip-offs of American blockbusters. Massive hits like “Star Wars,” “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” “Alien,” “The Terminator,” and “E.T.” would produce multiple low budget, foreign-produced attempts to replicate their success. Few mega-movies would produce more copycats then “Jaws.” Maybe this was because a wild animal eating people in an isolated location was an easy premise to emulate. Of all these would-be “Jawses,” 1977’s “Orca” is probably the most polished. An oddball attempt to mash up an aquatic creature thriller with deeper emotions, the film has garnered a cult following among fish flick fanatics.

During a routine trip, Captain Nolan has a frightening encounter. One of his team members is nearly attacked by a great white shark. At the last moment, an orca swoops in and kills the shark. Afterwards, Nolan becomes fascinated with catching a killer whale. He recruits a marine biologist, Dr. Bedford, to help him in this mission. When he finally targets a killer whale, he strikes a female instead of the intended male. The porpoise is dragged aboard the ship, dying along with its unborn child. This enrages the whale’s mate. From that point on, the male orca begins to pursue Nolan. It murders his friends and destroys his business. He’s determined to ruin the man’s life, all in the name of revenge.

What elevates “Orca” above the many other “Jaws” rip-offs is how unapologetically romantic it is. The film opens with shots of the orca frolicking in the water with its mate. They leap joyously through the air, happy together. Ennio Morricone’s gorgeous score, which is equal parts love ballad and sea shanty, plays against these scenes. When the female orca is killed, the death is protracted. The creature bleeds and screams. The image of its aborted fetus, falling from the body aboard the deck and washed away with a hose, is disturbingly graphic. The audience is meant to sympathize with the orca, Richard Harris’ fisherman being a villain protagonist. The capsule summery of “Orca” would be “Moby Dick” in reverse, with a whale on an endless quest of revenge against a man. Or, to put it more bluntly, it’s "Death Wish" but with an orca instead of Charles Bronson. It’s not the kind of premise you’re going to see anywhere else is what I’m saying.

“Orca” follows its oddball muse even when attempting to scare the audience. The obvious horror movie moments often border on unintentional humor. When a live orca is traded out for a crudely animatronic one, the audience can definitely tell. The whale blowing up Harris’ boat or tossing a car across the land is hard to swallow. So is the animal destroying a house on the dock, in order to bite the legs off the people inside. As funny as these moments can be, “Orca” still has a weird, raw power. The attack scenes are brutal, people being dragged under the water in the animal’s jaws, bleeding profusely. They kick and scream as they die. This is one pissed off porpoise and his vengeance is righteous, if often campy.

In order help sell this ridiculous movie with its ridiculous premise, some top shelf actors were reeled into appearing. Richard Harris was weirdly defensive of the movie, becoming offended whenever anyone would call it a “Jaws” rip-off. Harris’ performance nicely reaches from playful at story’s start, regretful over his own actions, to craven by the end, learning to hate the whale as much as it hates him. (This is despite the ironic element of Harris’ Nolan also have a dead wife and child, which doesn’t quite work.) Charlotte Rampling is also very serious as the marine biologist. The reoccurring voiceover she delivers is unnecessary and her proclamations of science facts about orcas are self-serious. Rampling, however, has several humane moments that ground the characters. Will Sampson has a few decent moments, even if his character is a fairly standard Indian sage part. Also watch out for supporting roles from Robert Carradine and Bo Derek, both of whom get eaten.

As wacky as “Orca” is in its finished form, it could’ve been crazier. Producer Dino de Laurentis originally wanted the titular creature to walk on land. Now that would’ve been something! A deeply quirky variation on the “Jaws” formula, “Orca” is a lot of fun. How often does a movie attempt to get you to sympathize with a whale, much less a killer one? That everyone involved takes the silly premise entirely serious results in a campy but undeniably earnest motion picture. The combination results in a film that makes you laugh and is also kind of touching. And what more could you ask for from a killer fish movie? [7/10]

Sugar Hill (1974)

After the success of “Blacula,” A.I.P. watched other blaxploitation/horror combos pop up. There were more black vampires, your black Frankensteins, your black Exorcists. After wringing the last drop of blood out of Blacula, American International Pictures decided to put the blaxploitation spin on another horror archetype: The zombie. Instead of tackling the flesh-eating ghouls of “Night of the Living Dead” – which George Romero would kind of  do four years later – director Paul Maslansky and writer Tim Kelly would draw inspiration from Haitian legends of voodoo zombies. The film would mostly be overlooked, lacking the catchy titles of other blaxploitation horror mash-ups, but has developed a small cult following.

Langston and Diana Hill own a nightclub together, where voodoo themed dance numbers are performed every night. Langston has nicknamed Diana “Sugar,” due to her sweetness. Gangsters, scooping up other local businesses, insist on buying Langston’s club. When he refuses, they beat the man to death. Enraged and ready for revenge, Sugar Hill seeks out the help of a voodoo priestess named Mama Maitresse. They summon voodoo god Baron Samedi who grants Sugar an army of glassy eyed, machete wielding zombies. Using these minion, she sets out to exterminate the men who murdered her husband.

“Sugar Hill” has many similarities to another AIP blaxploitaiton hit, the previous year’s “Coffy.” A murdered loved one forces a woman into revenge against organized crime, using her sexuality and wits as a weapon. Both devote a scene to a cat fight between the lead and the gangster’s shapely moll. Marki Bey even slightly resembles Pam Grier. Beyond this blatant and likely emulation, “Sugar Hill” happily doubles down on blaxploitation clichés. The white mobsters are openly and gratuitously racist. The script is full of ridiculous slang, Sugar often referring to her tormentors as “honks.” There’s an ineffective police detective chasing after the zombies, buffoonish gangsters, hilariously dated costumes, and a funky theme song. About the only thing missing is some drug references and an inner city setting, as the film takes place in not-quite urban Louisiana. (And was filmed in Texas.)

For all its campiness, “Sugar Hill” does summon up a spooky, horror atmosphere. The zombies have an odd design. Silver reflective ping pong balls cover their eyes. Dark lines are painted on their bodies. Cobwebs cling to their heads and necks. Sometimes they smile, in homicidal glee, but usually they stare blankly, stiffly swinging their machetes. When the zombies, revived corpses of slaves, rise from their mass graves, thunder strikes and a storm churns. The final features the villain being stalked through an empty house by the zombies, a mildly tense sequence made better by some shadowy ambiance. Though Sugar Hill usually lets her minions do the heavy lifting, occasionally she does the killing. A notable scene has her slowly torturing a thug to death with a voodoo doll. As cheap and cheesy as “Sugar Hill” can be, it still possesses a hokey power.

The performances range from surprisingly charismatic to totally ridiculous. Marki Bey is not the natural talent Pam Grier is, as some of her line-readings are awkward. However, she does occasionally summon up some emotion. If nothing else, she’s a compelling presence. Don Pedro Colley, as Baron Samedi, is likely the high-light of the film. He hams it up gloriously as the voodoo god, laughing uproariously all throughout the film. Robert Quarry, previously of the “Count Yorga” duology, plays the head mobster, Morgan. While Quarry was a decent vampire, he seems out of his element here. You can tell how uncomfortable the actor was with the slur filled dialogue. Betty Anne Rees probably gives the worst performance, shrieking ridiculous as Quarry’s girlfriend. Most of the bit players are really stiff.

As well loved as the blaxploitation horror cycle was, it was actually fairly short lived. “Sugar Hill” was one of the last notable entries to emerge from the fad. The film may actually be ideal Halloween viewing. It has the right balance of spookiness and campiness, all tied together by a funky soundtrack and a delightfully dated aesthetic. Though not as good as “Blacula,” it’s slightly better then “Scream Blacula Scream” and still miles above stuff like “Blackenstein.” Assuming you’re not too much of a jive turkey, give it a look. [7/10]

Lost Tapes: Reptilian

Presumably because the writers had exhausted all other ideas, the final episode of “Lost Tapes” is entirely devoted to David Icke’s reptilian humanoid conspiracy theories. Teenagers are disappearing all over New York City. A pair of detectives trace the disappearances to a series of exclusive parties going down in abandoned subway tunnels. They infiltrate such a shindig, recording events with hidden cameras. What they discover are tunnels painted with odd symbols and guarded by intimidating men in hoods. As they dig further, they discover human bodies hanging in food lockers and reptilian, possible extraterrestrial, monsters disguised as people.

A reportedly educational network like Animal Planet broadcasting an ode to the kookiest conspiracy theory is deeply irresponsible. Supposed experts, with a straight face, talk about how the reptilians come from other worlds or dimensions. How they drink human blood and have infiltrated all corners of Earthly politics. The episode itself downplays the conspiracy element in favor of robed snake men suffocating people with saran wrap. The underground setting is mildly atmospheric. Most of the episode being shot in night vision actually adds to the spooky, subterranean ambiance. There’s a decent jump scare, involving a dead body on a hook swinging into view. The monsters themselves are deeply lame though. Guys in monk hoods don’t make for great creature designs. Occasionally, we see their slit eyes or scaly skin but it doesn’t count for much. As usual, the monsters work better when kept off screen. A flash of a swishing lizard’s tail or some gooey slime dripping from the ceiling are far creepier. Though it has some fun ideas, far too much of “Reptilian” is devoted to people wandering around industrial tunnels. [4/10]

Thus concludes my coverage of “Lost Tapes.” Rewatching the entire series in so short a period really emphasizes the show’s flaws. “Lost Tapes” was rarely good. Usually, it was cheaply produced, badly written, and poorly edited. The acting and characters were almost always awful. Despite that, I still love the premise. A weekly found footage show with a cryptozoology bent is a neat idea. It was never gold star television and most of the episodes were terrible. Occasionally, “Lost Tapes” produced a decent half-hour, creating pulpy, goofy, but entertaining mini monster movies.

I’m curious about what monsters a potential fourth season would have showcased. There almost certainly would’ve been a Slender Man episode. It would’ve been neat to see the show take on personal favorites like the Flatwoods Monster, Mokele-mbembe, or the Goatman. It wasn’t meant to be, as continued public indifference led Animal Planet to end the series. Considering the track record, these potential episodes probably wouldn’t have been good either. Despite its lack of quality, “Lost Tapes” was too much of a television misfit for me not to love it, just a little bit.

Woodhouse (2014)

After watching thirty four episodes of “Lost Tapes,” I figure there’s room for one more take on the topic of cryptozoology. “Woodhouse,” a British short film from 2013, takes place in the late seventies. After a little girl’s pet cat runs away into South East London’s Woodhouse Nature Reserve, she goes searching for him. After spending hours in the thick woods, she claims to have been stalked by a monster. This report makes it back to the school intendent, who develops a passion for the creature. The story reaches a local newspaper reporter. The supposed sighting attracts the attention of monster experts and parapsychologists. Eventually, the superintendent is accused of faking the whole thing, especially after his story is raked over the coals by a skeptical magazine. The populace moves on and the Woodhouse Monster is forgotten. By most people.

In just eight minutes, “Woodhouse” shows how the cryptozoology phenomenon is born, grows, stagnates, and finally dies. All dryly narrated by Edmund Dehn, creating the feel of a nature documentary, “Woodhouse” suggests that people choose to believe in monsters because it makes their lives a little more magical. It acknowledges the existence of crackery and hoaxes, with the spirit photographer being an admitted faker. (Though one who’s faking was based in sorrow and loss.) The little girl who started the rumor supposes she might not have seen anything. It also leaves room for sincerity, as the superintendent insists throughout the entire short that the creature is real. The short itself never reveals whether the Woodhouse Monster is real or not, ending on an ambiguous note. Over its short run time, it says so much about why some people chase Bigfeet and Mothmen while daftly displaying how a legend can spread. It’s certainly way more insightful then “Lost Tapes” ever was. [7/10]