Halloween 2020: October 28th

Scare Me (2020)

As I've pointed out roughly a hundred times already, the horror omnibus movie is alive and well in the 21st century. In fact, it's getting to the point where I'm almost tired of the idea. It seems like just about every spin on the genre has been done at this point. Interweaving stories? Dead and done. Famous directors handling each tale? Driven into the ground. Doing stories based on holidays/letters of the alphabet/found footage? Please. At this point, it must seem like there is no new variation on the “collection of macabre tales” premise. Yet, here in 2020, I think someone has cooked up a clever new take. “Scare Me” played some festivals earlier in the year and picked up decent buzz. Josh Ruben's film would arrive on Shudder a while back and, as Halloween creeps ever closer, this sounded like just the perfect spooky gift to myself.

Fred is a would-be writer, though he's never successfully completed a story. He rents a cabin in the rural countryside, not long after a snow has covered the land. He finds the isolation doesn't help him nearly as much as he hoped. While out on a run, he meets Fanny, an author of a recently published and critically acclaimed zombie novel. Later that night, there's a power outage. Fanny comes over and suggests, out of boredom, that the two tell scary stories in order to pass the time. They weave various tales – about werewolves, creepy grandpas, trolls, demon-possessed pop stars – and are even joined by an enthusiastic pizza boy. Yet, as the night goes on, some tension begins to grow between the two.

“Scare Me” finds a clever riff on the horror anthology premise by approaching it from the inside out. This is not a movie so much about a collection of scary stories. It's about the people telling the scary stories, essentially making it an anthology where the framing device is the main feature. Making this approach even more interesting is how the movie brings the stories to life. As Fred tells his werewolf tale, we hear the sound effects as he dramatically pantomimes. We'll see a werewolf claw reach out of the darkness but mostly it's just the actors, their voices, music and sound telling these tales. “Scare Me” has fun playing with this idea. Most of the stories are cut off before the end, so we never learn the exact details of Fred's werewolf hunter or Fanny's haunted granddaughter. When telling their tale of a troll inside the walls of a “edible basket” business, Fred crawls around and does a creepy voice. This elastic approach to storytelling reaches its delightful peak when a musical number breaks out during the demonic pop star story, a wonderfully unexpected occurrence.

The truth is, though, “Scare Me” isn't actually about its stories. It's about the interaction between the storytellers. From the opening scene, the film has a somewhat shrill sense of humor. Fred's Uber driver tells a rambling version of her own novel, repeatedly mispronouncing James Cameron's last name. Sometimes, Fred and Fanny come across as intensely unlikable people. Fred has some obvious hang-ups about women and a lack of original ideas. Fanny is a snobby hipster at times, dismissing other people's ideas and shitting on “Silver Bullet.” Yet their feuding personalities eventually reveal a mirror into the creative process. Fanny writes stories to attack the injustices she sees in the world, focusing her tales on abusive men and creepy authority figures. Fred writes stories to right wrongs in his personal life, giving himself a more interesting childhood origin or reorganizing romantic turbulence. Both, ultimately, are motivated by largely petty reasons. 

Inevitably, the tension between the two boils over. The differences between the two – Fanny is successful, Freddy isn't, Freddy is a bitter man, Fanny is a vocal woman – only grow more pronounced. At first, the two can be playful about it. However, that ugly discomfort can only stay hidden for so long. The film hints at a darker history for Freddy but backs away. No, he's not a serial killer. He's just a resentful, mediocre white man. Fanny's not entirely without fault either but the bubbling discourse between them effectively sets up a thrilling, uncertain final segment. “Scare Me” had largely been a goofy horror/comedy before this point yet it successfully generates unease in these final scenes. Befitting the structure “Scare Me” has set up before this point, this last act concludes on an uncertain and amusingly off-hand manner. 

The reviews of “Scare Me” have been mixed. How much you like the movie seems to depend on how much you can relate to the abrasive characters. I personally see too much of myself in both of these assholes to dislike them totally. Josh Ruben and Aya Cash's performances are studied and frequently hilarious. As a flip on a familiar genre format, “Scare Me” is clever. As a wacky horror/comedy, it got a lot of laughs out of me too. As an examination of male entitlement and toxicity, it's not as bright as it thinks it is but still manages to cook up an interesting conclusion. Two out of three ain't bad. If you're a head-up-your-ass writer type too, you should probably give this one a look. [7/10]

Daigoro vs. Goliath (1972)

Kaijû daifunsen: Daigorou tai Goriasu

By the start of the seventies, Japan's “kaiju boom” was essentially over. At that point, the only giant monster movies being released theatrically were part of long-running series like “Godzilla” and “Gamera.” And those series were becoming increasingly cheap and childish, furthering the public opinion that kaiju movies were primarily for little kids by this point. Perhaps this is because giant monster shows were popular on television, commercially diluting the idea as it were. In 1972, Toho would team up with Tsuburaya Productions, the creators of the wildly popular “Ultraman,” to make a brand new kaiju movie. That film, “Daigoro vs. Goliath,” would be pitched entirely at the grade school set, easily ranking as one of the goofiest of all Japanese monster flicks. 

Some time ago, a giant monster emerge from the sea and started wrecking Japan. The military successfully killed the creature with a missile... Only to discover that she was a mom and left behind a baby kaiju. Quickly named Daigoro, the infant monster became a ward of the state. Years later, Daigoro is growing larger and eating more food, starting to exceed the budget afforded to feeding him. Kids try to raise money for the monster, while an eccentric inventor hopes to win a contest and use his winnings for the same cause. When another monster falls from outer space, the weather controlling Goliath, Daigoro is recruited to help save the day. But is the still juvenile monster up to the fight?

Including “Daigoro vs. Goliath” in a horror movie marathon is stretching the definition of “horror.” This film is largely an extremely silly comedy targeted exclusively at young children. The slapstick antics of the inventor are often hard to swallow. A sequence devoted to him riding a rocket-powered bike he's made goes on for way too long, concluding with a farcical explosion. A later scene, where he tries to invent “magic shoes,” is similarly long-winded and ludicrous. (Though energetically directed, if nothing else.) “Daigoro vs. Goliath's” comedy isn't just based in kid-friendly wackiness. Several scenes are devoted to a supporting character, a portly alcoholic, trying to give up the booze. At one point, he imagines a beer billboard coming to life and handing him a drink. Later, he's so desperate for sake that he drinks hot springs water instead. That's the kind of subplot you probably wouldn't see in an American kids movie. 

“Daigoro vs. Goliath” was originally conceived as a Godzilla movie, in which he'd right a creature call Redmoon. Ultimately, I'm glad the King of the Monster was cut from this one as the kaiju action is fairly underwhelming. Daigoro is an exceptionally goofy looking beast, more hippo or dog than fearsome dragon. He spends most of the movie sleeping or rubbing his grumbling tummy. Goliath, who is only in three scenes, is an indistinct blue dinosaur with a big horn. His arms flop around in an unconvincing manner. Save for a few hilariously awkward drop kicks, the fight scenes between the two are underwhelming, with Daigoro's defeat of Goliath being especially anticlimactic. Yet “Daigoro vs. Goliath” does feature one or two clever gags. The scenes devoted to Daigoro's mother, who resembles both a cat and a snake, are cool. A close-up of Goliath's nostrils flaring is neat. Lastly, a sequence devoted to Daigoro using an enormous water closest the government has built him truly must be seen to be believed. 

Even Daigoro's kaiju-sized outhouse is not the craziest thing about this film. No, the wildest thing about “Daigoro vs. Goliath” is that, no matter how childish most of the movie is, it still concerns itself with the serious issues the rest of the kaiju genre is built around. Daigoro's Mother was awoken by a crashed nuclear submarine. When the idea of dropping a nuclear bomb on Goliath is considered, many express concern that this would destroy the biology of the ocean. A minor supporting character even questions if mankind will exist much longer on Earth, if we continue to disrespect the natural order of the world. Not to mention part of the film's plot involves the government's reluctance in paying to feed a giant monster. Which leads to little kids badgering a businessman into donating to their cause. Even a Japanese monster movie as childish as this one can't escape the spectre of nuclear annihilation and civilization being out-of-order that birthed the subgenre. 

Even though “Daigoro vs. Goliath” is technically a kaiju movie from the creators of “Godzilla,” it has never been officially distributed in the United States. You'd think somebody would've tried to stick this on DVD or Blu-Ray, seeing as how kaiju fans tend to be a comprehensive sort. Luckily, a subtitled copy found its way onto Youtube recently. It's probably among the more inessential kaiju flicks I've seen and certainly nowhere near as epic as you'd expect from a collaboration between Toho and the “Ultraman” studio. It does feature far less scenes of kids in tiny shorts running around and yelling than the contemporary Godzilla and Gamera flicks, which is a factor in its favor. (Though there are several juvenile songs instead.) I'm still glad I had a chance to check this oddball obscurity out. [6/10]

A Return to Salem's Lot (1987)

Stephen King movies are, of course, legion. I doubt the man himself could name all the adaptations of his work. Yet even stranger are the subcategory of sequels to Stephen King movies. With the rare exception of “Doctor Sleep,” most of the sequels to King-related works are barely connected to the famous author's words. The majority, like the roughly ten thousand “Children of the Corn” sequels or “The Rage: Carrie 2,” are purely mercenary cash-ins that attach a prominent name to an otherwise unrelated film. It's not like anybody was really asking for two sequels to “The Mangler,” ya know? Occasionally, a sequel to a King movie pops up that at least has a notable director attached. Whatever you may think of its quality, “Pet Sematery Two” is boosted by having Mary Lambert in the director's chair. Similarly, a second “Salem's Lot” movie – the unprecedented example of a television mini-series getting a theatrically released sequel – has gained some extra cult cred because Larry Cohen directed it. 

Documentary filmmaker Joe Weber is called away from a jungle adventure because his ex-wife and her new husband are tired of dealing with their delinquent son, Jeremy. Not knowing what else to do with the kid, Joe drives to his childhood home town: Jerusalem's Lot in Maine. Upon arriving, Joe realizes the town is different. The locals are hostile to outsiders. People disappear at night. Most of the townsfolks don't seem to come out during the day. Soon, the residents of Salem's Lot reveal their true vampiric nature. They invite Joe to write their history, while Jeremy quickly becomes integrated into the undead lifestyle. Yet the writer soon realize he's made a mistake and that the bloodsuckers plan to steal their lives and their souls. 

“A Return to Salem's Lot” has almost nothing to do with Stephen King's original book or Tobe Hooper's mini-series. No, the Nosferatu-like Mr. Barlow is not in the movie, despite being on the poster. What “A Return to Salem's Lot” does have is Larry Cohen's trademark social commentary. The vampires in Salem's Lot have been here for centuries, coming over at the same time as the pilgrims. They have amassed considerable wealth over the years. Any undesirables that wander through town are quickly killed and drained. Their human prey are directly compared to cattle. As petty revenge against Joe, the vamps begin to kill innocent passer-bys again. They justify their cruelty by trying to insist they were being “reasonable” before. By the way, the cops are also their mindless slaves. If all of that was too subtle for you, Cohen makes sure all the most powerful vampires are old white authority figures. (There are, notably, no black people in Salem's Lot.) Making the rich and powerful bloodsuckers simply literalizes what they do anyway. Cohen ends the film by impaling the master vampire with an American flag, making his opinion on capitalists and where they belong in the American tradition all the more obvious. 

While Cohen's smart-ass subtext is as sly as ever, other elements of “A Return to Salem's Lot” are less compelling. This film would be a cap-off to the series of eighties collaborations between Cohen and Michael Moriarty. Moriarty, naturally, makes an impression in his opening scene. He refuses to stop the tribal sacrifice he's recording and punches out his cameraman when he calls him an asshole. When the boy is introduced, he's just as foul-mouthed and attitude-driven as his dad. Which is pretty funny. However, “A Return to Salem's Lot” soon looses sight of the father/son angle. Joe is seduced by his childhood crush, who never forgot about him and considers him age-appropriate now. Jeremy, meanwhile, takes a liking to his vampire neighbors without much reason. The father's decision to protect his child is a dramatic shift the script never justifies. Joe just arbitrarily changes his mind when it's time for the last act to kick in. Moriarty is compelling as ever, though Ricky Addison Reed – in his sole screen appearance – is a little wooden as Jeremy.

As a horror movie, “A Return to Salem's Lot” is fairly low-key. The vampires are immediately introduced sucking on some New Wave teens, so the slow reveal of Hooper's mini-series is not present. While some scenes are memorably off-beat – a group of child vampires attacking two men, a wedding between two of the young vampires – the film is never scary or especially gory. Midway through the film, Cohen introduces an elderly traveler named Van Meer, played by legendary indie director Samuel Fuller. Fuller soon reveals himself as a “not a Nazi hunter, a Nazi killer.” It only continues Cohen's point to discover that some of the vamps were Nazis too. At that point, “A Return to Salem's Lot” becomes full-fledged monster movie fun. The last act, devoted to Moriarty and Fuller traveling around town and staking vampires or dousing them with holy water, is gooey creature feature entertainment. Fuller is fantastically entertaining. The vampire make-up, which becomes more grotesque as the film goes on, are amusingly gooey. If the whole movie had been like this, it would be a beloved cult classic. 

Upon release, “A Return to Salem's Lot” was widely loathed. People were seemingly insulted that the movie was largely unrelated to King's novel. Much like 1987's other Moriarty/Cohen team-up, “It's Alive III,” “A Return to Salem's Lot” was intended for the direct-to-video market before Warner Bros changed their mind and gave it a limited theatrical release instead. Thanks to video rentals and countless cable airings, the quasi-sequel would acquire a cult following over the years. It's not the high-light of Cohen's career and one does get the impression that he wasn't terribly invested in the material, which is probably why he made it so completely his own. Yet, once it gets rolling in the second half, “A Return to Salem's Lot” is still an enjoyable time for fans of eighties horror flicks and vampire shenanigans. [7/10]

Death Metal (2017)

It's definitely time to introduce some metal into the season. “Death Metal,” an absurdist horror/comedy short from 2017, begins with a pretty funny image. That would be a death metal guitarist attempting to shred some doomy riffs for tips in the park. This, predictably, does not go well for him. That's when his dad presents him with an ancient family heirloom: A black guitar made from a pentagram and a battle axe. It was forged by the devil in exchange for their grandfather's soul. The guitar will gift its player with amazing skill but comes with three rules. You can only play it at night. You can't use it to make money. And you can't do that pose where you pretend the guitar is your dick. Lars immediately breaks all three rules, unleashing gory mayhem in the park. 

Only being five minutes long, there's not a lot to “Death Metal.” About half of its brief runtime is devoted to setting up its premise. The second half revolves around the carnage the guitar reaps in the park. The battle axe shoots off and gorily tears through random people in the park. This is the kind of outrageous gore comedy that horror fans love. “Death Metal” happily, sarcastically rips through a series of taboos. Each time the flying axe – shot in energetic close-ups as it soars through the air – collides with someone, bodies are torn apart and blood spews everywhere. It's elaborate slapstick special effects comedy. The best gag involving a huge hole being blasted through someone's chest only for another guy to have his face pushed through this hole. Naturally, the death metal guy's reaction to this is amusement. But don't worry, he gets what's coming to him. The special effects are obviously gruesome but cartoony enough that they amuse, instead of disturbing. “Death Metal” only has one joke but extends that joke as far as it can before wrapping up just in time. Rock on. [7/10]

Halloween 2020: October 27th

One Cut of the Dead (2017)

Kamera wo tomeruna!

As I said the other day, I'm pretty bored with zombie movies and this is not an uncommon opinion. Despite the obvious burn-out of the genre, people continue to find new takes on the undead genre. Last year, there was a minor controversy when a Japanese zombie flick called “One Cut of the Dead” was illegally uploaded to Amazon Prime. Basically, a bootleg copy of the film was made available, ahead of the film's official release, because Prime is that badly managed. Anyway, when “One Cut of the Dead” legally came out, it received a wave of positive notices. It seems like this is another one of those horror movies that even people who don't like horror movies enjoy. I'll admit, I was skeptical. About a year after its U.S. release, I'm finally catching up with this one and will see if it was worthy of the hype. 

In an abandoned water filtration plant, a crew is shooting a low budget zombie movie. The abusive director is frustrated with the lead actress' acting ability. Soon, mysterious events begin to happen, as the cast learn the plant is supposedly cursed. This proceeds an actual zombie apocalypse breaking out in the building. The director, finally satisfied with the performances, insists they continue shooting... That's when “One Cut of the Dead” starts over, showing us the production behind this zombie movie. It was shot entirely in one cut and broadcast live, forcing the beleaguered filmmaker – hired because he works cheaply and quickly – to improvise when things inevitably begin to go wrong.

“One Cut of the Dead” is essentially two movies in one. The thirty minute long zombie narrative that opens the film is, indeed, shot without cuts. (Or its cuts are, at the very least, cleverly hidden.) The handheld shooting style keeps moving constantly but is never sloppy, providing an infectious energy. The numerous chase scenes keep the adrenaline pumping, even continuing when blood splatters on the camera lens. The long take gimmick never becomes self-serving either, making the still images – like that final shot – especially memorable. The narrative spins in some unexpected directions, such as when a production assistant becomes unhinged and attacks the dead and the living. Or when the lead actress believes she's been bitten by a zombie, only to realize it's fake gore from earlier in the shoot. The fanatical director, excited by the terrifying scenario, is seemingly a commentary on a culture that values entertainment value over the crew's safety. 

The showbiz comedy around “One Cut of the Dead's” opening is also pretty good. There are several odd moments in the zombie movie segment. An actor will pause awkwardly. Or a gyrating zombie will wander back into a shot. At first, I just chalked this up to eccentric Japanese humor. Instead, the making-of segment shows that these oddball scenes were the result of behind-the-scene malfunctions. The radical shift in someone's personality is the result of the actress, the director's wife, getting too deep into her character. An effective shot of a zombie's leg stepping into frame was actually a clever way to disguise a message being delivered. The director has to juggle trouble – like an alcoholic actor or another actor getting diarrhea – with a demanding producer and a desire to create real art. The climax, where everyone comes together to get a key shot, is rather touching.

What makes this wild genre shift worth going along with is the likable cast director Shin'ichirô Ueda assembles. Most of the cast are, after all, basically playing two characters. Takayuki Hamatsu adapts a likable, sad-sack persona as Takayuki, the man tasked with making a live movie in one take. As “Takayuki,” the director of a zombie movie dealing with a real zombie outbreak, he's fittingly unhinged and manic. “One Cut of the Dead's” commitment to heartwarming antics extends to Takayuki's backstory. His daughter is also a would-be filmmaker, frustrated with her father's differing approach to storytelling. Naturally, the two have a heartfelt reunion by the end. I also enjoyed Harumi Syuhama as Takayuki's wife. The techniques she's learned in a self-defense class provides one of the film's best running jokes.

“One Cut of the Dead” is certainly entertaining. Its first act is well assembled and exciting. The rest of the movie is funny and charming. This is another one of those movies about the magic of movie making, of misfits coming together to overcome challenges and make the best piece of art they can. Yet, I'll admit, I was left wanting more. I kept waiting for a third turn to arrive, for the movie to grow even more meta by having an actual zombie outbreak occur during the behind-the-scenes comedy. At that point, “One Cut of the Dead” would be a movie about zombies showing up during the filming of a zombie movie about zombies showing up during the filming of a zombie movie. That was the sort of nesting doll approach I was expecting, given the praise this one received. Instead, “One Cut of the Dead”  is an exciting zombie movie short attached to a cute, if non-extraordinary, filmmaking comedy. [7/10]

Color Me Blood Red (1964)

When people talk about Herschell Gordon Lewis' Blood Trilogy, they usually talk about "Blood Feast" or "Two Thousand Maniacs!" The former is generally regarded as the first American gore movie and is historically significant for that reason. (Even if it's more valuable for its unintentional comedy these days.) The latter is generally regarded as the best, or "best" at least, of the three films Lewis made with David Friedman. "Color Me Blood Red," the final installment of the trilogy, is usually overlooked. Since I haven't indulged Lewis' particular breed of incompetent but charming filmmaking this Halloween season, I decided to give this one - which I've also never seen before - a spin.

Painter Adam Sorg is successful but not critically acclaimed, which causes him great frustration. His use of color -- or lack thereof -- is especially criticized. It has left him in a bad mood. After his girlfriend cuts her foot on a nail and bleeds on a canvas, Sorg is struck by the brilliant red color. After bleeding his own fingers dry, and having an argument with her, he murders his partner. Using her blood to complete a painting produces his most beloved work yet. He begins to murder other people, in order to wet his brush with their gore. But how much longer can Sorg get away with killing for art?

A Herschell Gordon Lewis movie always comes with certain precautions. No, don't expect it to function like a "normal" movie. "Color Me Blood Red" continues the - let's call it "unique" - approach to filmmaking seen in Lewis' previous horror pictures. The camera work is sloppy, swinging around to keep the actor's in frame. The movie visibly goes out of focus at least once. Largely, the film is shot in static poses, actors standing in one location and saying their lines. The dialogue is frequently goofy, delivered stiffly by the stilted performances. This is all just part of the charm when it comes to the blood-soaked dream worlds of H.G.L. But "Color Me Blood Red" is probably less charming than his previous films, because the scenarios are rarely as wild. The acting is also slightly more competent this time, limiting the ironic laughs some. Though there are still some amusingly baffling touches, like the repeated use of bizarre water bikes. Or the belligerent, repetitive way Sorg and his girlfriend - who always wears brightly colored leotards - talk with each other.

The film is also less violent then you might expect. The previous entries in the Blood Trilogy faced some blowback and censorship because of their outrageous content, making me wonder if Lewis and Friedman were intentionally dialing it back. Or maybe they were just out of ideas. It turns out there's only so many ways to paint with someone's blood. Aside from a hilarious scene where Sorg spears a water skier, most of the killing happens off-screen. There's an expected moment of him dabbing his brush in some entrails and a lurid, worm-faced corpse. But that's about it. Most of "Color Me Blood Red's" run time is devoted to teenage goofballs attempting to neck and sharing absurd dialogue. Which you can barely hear because the generic jazz score drowns much of it out.

"Color Me Blood Red" partially cribs its premise from Roger Corman's "A Bucket of Blood," a superior movie in every way. While Walter Paisley is a lovable loser, whose first few murders are at least understandable, Adam Sorg is an indefensible asshole. He heaps scorn on his girlfriend, gets drunk at the art gallery, and is rude even to the people who admire his work. Moreover, we never get a sense of why being a successful painter is important to Sorg. Does he yearn for critical acclaim? It's never really explained. Not that I was expecting a deep probe into the creative process from a H.G.L. gore-fest but at least his previous villains had actual motivations. Sorg seems to kill mostly because he likes the way blood looks in his paintings. The final scene suggests an attempt at a theme, that no art justifies pain and suffering, but it's too little, too late. If this is a sarcastic snipe at those that tried to censor Lewis' previous films, it's hard to say.

Granted, a half-ass approach is expected with Lewis. Yet the other two parts of the Blood Trilogy are a lot less boring than this one. I suspect Lewis and Friedman might've been a little out of ideas. Their partnership would dissolve after this one, as Friedman thought the gore movie market was going to dry up. While Lewis would briefly shift gears to other weirdo genres, he would eventually come back to gore films, which was clearly his favorite genre. Maybe the break was necessary to recharge his twisted imagination. With fewer laughs, and no reason to relate to the villain protagonist, "Color Me Blood Red" is left as a largely tedious experience. [5/10]

Monster from the Ocean Floor (1954)

Halloween is all but here and I somehow haven’t talked about Roger Corman. While Corman would come to fame for directing and producing at American International Pictures, his story doesn’t start there. He started in the mail room at 20th Century Fox, worked his way up to script reader, and left after receiving no credit for the input provided on “The Gunfighter.” On his own, he successfully sold a script — which became “Highway Dragnet” — for 2000 dollars. This would provide the foundation for Corman’s first venture as producer. Collaborating with Wyott Ordung, making his directorial debut after writing “Robot Monster,” Corman would scrap together enough funds for “Monster from the Ocean Floor.” The budget was no higher than 30,000 dollars and might’ve been as low as 12,000. Either way, Ordung and Corman shot the whole movie in a week. The story behind “Monster from the Ocean Floor” is fascinating but what of the actual movie?

Julie, a painter, is hanging out on a beach in Mexico. A little boy tells her that his dad was eaten by a sea monster but she goes for a swim anyway. That’s when Julie literally bumps into Steve, a marine biologist in a one-man submarine. He soon invites her back to his research boat. They help local fisherman look for a missing man but only find his empty diving suit. Julie is convinced the monster is responsible but Steve remains skeptical. As he leaves on a research trip, Julie discovers more evidence that a cycloptic monster stalks the cove. With some help from superstitious locals, she’ll soon come face-to-face with it. 

“Monster from the Ocean Floor” features maybe the most hilarious awkward romance I've ever seen in a movie. Mere minutes after meeting her, Steve is blabbering at Julie about marine biology. Instead of being put off, this piques her interest. Only a minute after that, he's goading her into coming back to his boat. They travel by her clinging to the outside of his submarine. Ladies, please: Do not go swimming in the ocean with a strange man you just met. Once on the boat, Steve and his buddies blabber about the ocean more, Julie somehow still being interested. Despite only knowing each other for hours, Steve immediately feels compelled to tell this woman what she can and can't believe. They've known each other less than a day when he's serenading her with love songs on the beach. The frequently stilted dialogue draws attention to how fucking weird this courtship is. The straight faced acting from leads Anne Kimbell and Stuart Wade makes this alien's-version-of-human-romance even funnier.

Furthermore, Julie is clearly not the kind of girl who is easily impressed or led on. She's steadfast in her beliefs in the monster, despite Steve's constant refusal to take her seriously. She even fights off a shark in one scene. After he skidoos, she begins interviewing local people and researching the matter itself. The scenes in “Monster from the Ocean Floor” devoted to the Mexican villagers talking about the monster are actually somewhat interesting. A drunken fisherman relates a frightening encounter with the one-eyed beast. An old woman mournfully discusses how she believes the creature ate her dog. Even though nuclear radiation is eventually credited with creating the thing, I like how these scenes make the monster seem like a cryptozoological legend the locals have lived with for years. Sadly, that fun buzz is killed when the film indulges in racist stereotypes, making the villagers worshipers of Aztec gods determined to sacrifice the pretty blonde to appease the monster. Unfortunate jungle movie cliches like that feel very out-of-place in this story. 

Despite these mildly interesting quirks, “Monster from the Ocean Floor” is otherwise a fairly dull creature feature. The monster is a wiggling octopus-like beasty with a giant, glaring gold eye. That's cool but it's only actually in two scenes, murkily depicted lurking through the blurry waters. As you might expect, there's lots of scenes of people diving, swimming, or submarining through the dark waters. It grows tedious quickly. The scene speculating about the monster's origins – including a bizarre digression about pterodactyl eggs – introduces a way to defeat the beast.... Which the movie doesn't follow up on! Instead, Steve gently nudges the giant amoeba to death with his tinker-toy submarine. 

Despite its underwhelming content, “Monster from the Ocean Floor” far out-grossed the meager amount Corman and company spent on it. The film's success encouraged Corman to try directing himself and he directed his first film – a western called “Five Guns West” – the next year. That film was picked-up by American Releasing Company, which would soon morph into A.I.P., where Corman would have his most creatively fruitful years. Honestly, a movie about the making of “Monster from the Ocean Floor,” or at least a section about it in a biography about Corman's life, would probably be more interesting than the actual film. It's a totally stock-parts fifties monster movie, intriguing only for its weirdo writing and the stellar B-movie legacy that it would launch. Honestly, I'm really surprised this film never appeared on “Mystery Science Theater 3000,” as its short runtime, long dialogue-free stretches, and odd touches makes it ideal for riffing. [5/10]

The Coatmaker (2018)

“The Coatmaker” is the most traditional of the horror shorts from Alter I’m watching this year but that doesn’t mean it’s bad. A coat maker toils in his shop late at night. That’s when a text message reminds him he has a prior engagement. As he exits through the dark shop, a mannequin comes to life and attacks him. The faceless plastic form stops moving whenever the lights are on. The problem is the light switch is on a timer and his keys are on the floor across the room.

Yes, “The Coatmaker” mines familiar elements for fear. This is, I think, the fourth thing I’ve watched this season that plays on the inherent creepiness of mannequins. “The Coatmaker” uses the extra-creepy faceless variety of mannequin, which also brings Slender Man to mind. A monster that is still under one condition but dangerous under another is also a common troupe among Internet creepypastas. As common place as “The Coatmaker’s” frights are, they are also deployed effectively. The dark blue photography of the coat shop is moody. Director Scott Dale uses well worn concepts to generate suspense. Like turning up the volume on the scary music when the mannequin is shuffling forward. Or setting up early that the light switch is on a timer or the coat maker’s cell phone battery is low. Yet these cliches are definitely well used here, making “The Coatmaker” an amusingly tense four minutes. [7/10]

Halloween 2020: October 26th

Cannibal Holocaust (1980)

If you look at any long list of essential horror films, or movies that had a huge impact on the genre, eventually you're going to see “Cannibal Holocaust” mentioned. The most (in)famous film of the Italian cannibal wave, it is widely considered the first found footage movie. Moreover, the film's utter brutality has made it one of the most widely censored, banned, and controversial motion pictures ever made. It's the kind of movie even hardened horror fans refuse to watch, largely due to including real life footage of animal cruelty. Over the years, I've been one of those people. Yet curiosity – as well as a desire to max out all those aforementioned lists – was going to get the best of me eventually. If I was going to watch the movie, it would have to be during October so I could get a review out of it. Because I have no intention of watching this thing more than once. Let's sink our teeth in.

A group of American filmmakers head into the Amazon rain forest to make a documentary about local cannibal tribes. They are never seen again. Professor Harold Monroe heads into the Amazon in hopes of discovering what happened. After witnessing numerous acts of brutality and cannibalism performed by the locals, Monroe retrieves the unopened film cans. Reviewing the footage with television executives, who intend on airing it, Monroe discovers what exactly went down in the Green Inferno: Filmmaker Alan Yates and his team terrorized, raped and murdered the tribes-people in order to stage footage for their sensationalist film... The same film that would eventually document their own brutish deaths. 

Sometimes he says he was just making a movie about cannibals but director Ruggero Deodato usually says “Cannibal Holocaust” is meant to be a criticism of the media. Specifically, the coverage of the Red Brigades terrorist group in the seventies, which focused on the lurid details of the crimes, inspired him. That much is obvious, in the choice to turn the documentary filmmakers into completely vile characters. Similarly, the network executives who screen the footage realize something this shocking could make them a lot of money. “Cannibal Holocaust's” thuddingly obvious social commentary doesn't end there. The movie wants us to wonder who is the real savage, those in civilized society or the people living in the jungle? That's almost word-for-word the final line of the movie. No shit the raping imperialists are equally, if not more, evil than the brutal cannibals. (Who certainly perform lots of rape and murder of their own throughout the film.)

Yet this extremely heavy-handed commentary is the not most interesting thing about “Cannibal Holocaust.” This is a movie about the subjective reality of the moving image, an obvious reaction to the mondo film fad of the previous decade. Before Monroe watches the footage of the doomed voyage, he watches an earlier film by Yates, depicting atrocities in war-torn Africa. All of that footage, Monroe learns afterwards, was staged. The horrors Yates reaps in the Amazon is to create dramatic footage for his film. The real context – that he started the fires or provoked the killings – is stripped away. The supposedly objective quality of the camera's eye is removed. “Cannibal Holocaust” itself participates in this game. The found footage of cannibals killing white people is fake. It stands alongside real scenes of animals being slaughtered, shot in the same style. Deodato wanted people to think all the violence was real and he successfully blurs the lines. (So well, the Italian government wanted to put him in jail for murder.) At its best, “Cannibal Holocaust' is a movie about how images – and, by extension, reality itself – are inherently mutable. 

Clearly, “Cannibal Holocaust' is clever and raises some extremely interesting questions about the power of cinema. Does that justify the sickening content of the film? Early on, a native Amazonian brutally defiles and kills an adulterous woman. More rape occurs during a battle between rival tribes. Yet more sexual assault goes down in the found footage. The film also depicts a tribal abortion, a steaming fetus pulled out of a woman and buried in the mud. The movie is obviously super racist too, depicting indigenous people as either simpletons or horrible killers. As vulgar as these moments are, the real animal deaths are obviously far more disturbing. A coatimundi screams as it's stabbed and cut open. A pig spasms after being shot in the head. A squirrel monkey's face slowly slides off after being hit with a machete. Most vile is the infamous turtle sequence. The reptile's flippers kick as it's decapitated, its body chopped apart, its guts splashed about. The men disrespectfully play with its still warm, twitching remains. This goes on for several minutes. I eat animals but I had to look away. I couldn't take it. The excessive, in-your-face sadism is too much. It's fucking revolting.

So is this protracted on-screen butchery justified? I wish I had a good answer to that question. The truth is “Cannibal Holocaust” is horrifying. The framing device is awkward and needlessly muddles the presentation. The unending sleaziness, which entails constant nudity and sex and mud caked to naked body parts, is exhausting. Since most of its characters are evil, the film feels nihilistic. Yet, when it gets down to it, this is a uniquely scary movie. The gory effects are not always convincing but frequently sickening. The found footage finale, in which the film crew are torn apart by the cannibals, is terrifying. The shaky camera work, far-off shooting, and incoming hordes of pissed-off cannibals creates a real sense of enclosing doom. When scored with Riz Ortolani's equal parts serene and foreboding score, these scenes only become more disturbing. There's a rare, distressing power to “Cannibal Holocaust's” climax that has never been replicated by the countless found footage films it influenced. 

Simply put, “Cannibal Holocaust” is one of the most unpleasant movies I've ever seen. I actually considered becoming a vegetarian for five minutes after watching it. That's how much it grossed me out. I watched the Last Drive-In version on Shudder and Joe Bob Briggs' cuddly host segments are the only thing that got me through. As much as I definitely did not enjoy the movie, as repugnant and obnoxious as I found it, I must respect Deodato's skills. I think he achieved exactly what he set out to do, creating an utterly depraved exploitation movie that is still too powerful to ignore. And now that I've conquered “Cannibal Holocaust,” I guess I have no excuse not to watch other notorious films I've long sworn off, like “A Serbian Film” or “Men Behind the Sun.” Until I cross those moral thresholds, “Cannibal Holocaust” is a rare example of a movie I think I hated that I'm still going to give a begrudgingly positive score to. [7/10]

Scooby-Doo and the Ghoul School (1988)

Since I've always loved spooky stuff, you might assume I'm a fan of “Scooby-Doo.” You wouldn't be entirely wrong. I've seen many episodes but rarely loved them. Even as a kid, I found the narrative's formulaic, the humor pedestrian, and the animation cheap. As an adult, I appreciate the show educating children to be skeptical of the supernatural. As a kid, I just wanted the monsters to be real. Which might be why the eighties incarnations of “Scooby” interested me more back then. “The 13 Ghosts of Scooby-Doo” is controversial among Scooby nerds, for removing Fred and Velma. Similarly, a trio of TV movies from 1988 – made during a rare break in the show's production history – are also sometimes disparaged for cutting the cast down further. Yet “Scooby-Doo and the Ghoul School” was perhaps my favorite incarnation of “Scooby-Doo” as a kid and has other fans. I can recall being extremely excited when the film debuted on Cartoon Network in the late nineties. Let's see if this one holds up to my childhood recollections.

Having left the rest of Mystery Inc. behind, Shaggy has gotten a job as a gym teacher at Miss Grimwood's Finishing School for Girls. Scooby and Scrappy-Doo naturally tag along. Upon arriving, Shaggy and Scooby are terrified to discover that the school is occupied with the daughters of famous monsters. Sibella, Winnie, Elsa, Tanus, and Phantasma frightened the duo but, quickly enough, Shaggy and Scoob grow fond of them. (Possibly because their monstrous dads threaten them into taking good care of them.) The duo lead the girls in their rivalry with the all-boys military academy next door. Later, a monstrous witch named Revolta appears to brainwash and kidnap the girls, our heroes working to protect them.

“Scooby-Doo and the Ghoul School” is up to the standard of quality you associate with eighties Hanna-Barbera productions. Which is to say it's a mediocre product, quickly churned out. The colors are drab. The animation is stiff. The story is episodic, to be kind. For most of its run time, “Ghoul School” simply has Scooby and Shaggy running through various scenarios: teaching a dance class, a volley ball game, an encounter with a one-eyed sea monster. A long sequence involving an evil reflection of Shaggy is especially baffling. The jokes are, as you'd expect, childish. Over the course of its overlong ninety-three minute runtime, “The Ghoul School” unleashes one lame pun after another. Even more uninspired are the physical gags, which are also as obvious as can be. This is a motion picture clearly targeted at the most undiscerning of kiddy audiences, from a time when the standards for children's television were much lower.  

Hanna-Barbera spent most of the eighties trying to keep the “Scooby-Doo” franchise alive through increasingly desperate means. While some of these attempts have become cult classics, I can see why some long-term fans were alienated. Scooby and Shaggy do all the shit you expect. They flee in terror, eat lots of food, and mispronounce words. Yet they are many scenes that do not feature those guys at all. The sequences devoted to the military school boys are especially terrible. The boys cheat at sports, yet we are suppose to like them. Mostly, they are all indistinct stereotypes, culturally diverse but tone-deaf. So there's a black kid, a Latino kid, a smart one, a fat one, etc. The movie's villain is equally uninspired. Revolta is creepy looking but doesn't actually do anything. Once she successfully brain-washes the monster girls, she simply has them clean for her. You'd think she would use that technology for more nefarious goals. She's still to busy doing whatever it is she does, dictating most of the work to her even lamer sidekicks. 

If “Scooby-Doo and the Ghoul School” is painfully unfunny, lazily written, and poorly animated, why do some people recall this movie with fondness? The monster girls are really cute. Sibella, Dracula's daughter, has an appealing design, peppers her speech with vampire puns, and seems friendly enough. I definitely had a small crush on her as a boy. Winnie the wolf girl is rambunctious. Tanus the little mummy is adorably tiny. Phantasma the ghost girl has a manic streak and wears bitchin' go-go boots. Elsa Frankenteen is probably my least favorite, owing to her awkward design and doofy voice. The girls even have a cute little dragon pet named Matches, who is amusingly cranky. The cadre's antics are uninspired as anything else from the movie. Yet they are undeniably the most charming thing about the movie. Especially in the scenes where they interact with their dads, all of whom crack lame puns of their own. (Though the movie gets credit for giving Frankenstein and the ghost Karloff and Lorre style voices, respectively.)

Unsurprisingly, “The Ghoul School” owes most of its cult following to the creepy school girls. There's something irresistibly amusing about the combination of cutesy cartoon girls and the classic monster archetypes. (Though I'm afraid to do image searches for any of them, least I discover any perverse fan art.) Considering the amount of attention that was obviously devoted to their designs, I'm not shocked to read that Hanna Barbera toyed with giving them a spin-off. Decades later, the “Monster High” franchise would run with the same idea to far more success. “The Ghoul School” came first, which is about all it has going for it. Watching this cartoon was largely an embarrassing, tedious experience. Damn, Kid-Me would enjoy anything if it had the slightest spooky vibe. [5/10]

Beginning of the End (1957)

The Pop culture of my childhood, in attempts to appeal to my parent’s generation via boomer nostalgia, often mocked the B-movies of the fifties. As a kid, I was led to believe that every six or eight-legged creature starred in an atomic age horror flick. The truth is, the big bug fad was pretty short-lived. Giant-sized ants, spiders, scorpions, and a praying mantis menaced the world but there were few jumbo creepy crawlers beyond that. No cockroach ate Cincinnati, no enormous katydid ravaged Seattle. However, great big grasshoppers did attack Chicago. “Beginning of the End” was the first Bert I. Gordon film about small things becoming large, a premise he would soon specialize in. It’s widely regarded as one of the worst big bug movies. I’ll be the judge of that!

The small town of Ludlow, Illinois is reduced to rubble overnight, its citizens lost. The military is baffled and, in hopes of preventing a panic, stop reporter Audrey Aimes from writing about it. She meets with scientist Dr. Ed Wainwright, who is using radiation to grow enormous vegetables. After discovering a similarly wrecked grain warehouse, Ed and Audrey discover the culprit of this destruction. Locust, fed on Wainwright’s radioactive plant food, have grown to enormous size. They alert the military but they can do little to stop the swarm. Soon, the grasshoppers are descended on Chicago. It’s up to Dr. Wainwright to stop this tide if hopping doom before the government nukes the whole city. 

Bert I. Gordon is well known for his low budget methods of filmmaking. This is proudly on display in “Beginning of the End.” For the majority of its run time, the giant grasshoppers are kept off-screen. We see a crunched up car in the second scene. But that small town that is munched by the locust? We never actually see it. The grain silo the big bugs raid? We only see some loose wreckage in a field. Gordon is also good at beefing up his story's scope with stock footage. Footage of tanks rolling through a forest, soldiers leaping out of trucks with bazookas, or military rolling up on a location are all clearly recycled from other sources. Say what you will about Mr. B.I.G. but he knew how to stretch out his meager resources. 

Which is probably for the best, as “Beginning of the End's” actual special effects are about as underwhelming as you might expect. The enormous locusts are brought to life via crude split screen and rear projection gags. Often, we see grasshoppers walking through the area or looming behind potential victims. These shots are repeated several times, including one scene where a grasshopper peers through a window at the unaware woman within. (A gag stolen directly from “Tarantula.”). This forces the actors to acted horrified, screaming and overdoing it with their hands as the off-screen grasshoppers barrel down on them. Which is pretty funny. When not using crude camera tricks, “Beginning of the End” has regular grasshoppers crawling over paper cut-outs of famous Chicago landmarks. This might've worked for a brief shot but the film focuses on it, drawing attention to the cheesy effect.

“Beginning of the End's” trashy cheapness is, in fact, part of its appeal. The script is obviously ridiculous. In the beginning, the grasshoppers are seemingly impervious to bullets. By the end, Peter Graves is blasting them away with machine guns left and right. The dialogue doesn't quite reach Woodian levels of oddness but the way it repeats exposition is amusingly stiff. If you're a fan of fifties B-movies, the multiple shots of a stout-chinned scientist and a brassy lady reporter conferencing in boardrooms is likely to give you the warm-and-fuzzies. Peter Graves, years before starring on “Mission: Impossible” but one year after appearing in “It Conquered the World,” is an ideal pick for the role of a fifties B-movie hero. He never cracks up, even when looking down a giant grasshopper in a big fish tank. 

Despite the lack of on-screen big bug action and many talky moments, “Beginning of the End” rarely drags. It's too goofy throughout to be boring. Unlike creepy spiders, intimidating ants, or threatening praying mantis, grasshoppers simply aren't very scary. “Beginning of the End” fails as a horror movie but succeeds as a comedy. The underwhelming climax, the locusts being killed off so swiftly and in such a simple fashion, even makes the whole movie into a 72 minute punchline. Naturally, “Beginning of the End” has been mocked over the years, on “The Simpsons” and “Mystery Science Theater 3000.” Yet it was also a money-maker in 1957, proving Gordon's abilities and earning him his next job of “The Amazing Colossal Man.” When viewed in the right mood, this one is some grasshoppery fun. [7/10]

Retch (2018)

Here’s another choice cut from Alter. “Retch” concerns a pair of women, one of which is laying on the floor, going into spasms. She trembles, wretches, and vomits. The other woman searches desperately for some sort of medication. She finds it but it’s too late: The transformation has begun. The sick woman is confine to a locked room in the basement. She begins to convulse, her bones twisting. Her hair falls out, she peels her skin off, and slime leaks from every pour. What is happening to Sonia? “Retch” never says but it does have a pretty unexpected ending.

Filmmaker Keir Siewert clearly made “Retch” to show off his prowess. The short immediately drops us into a tense situation. The music pounds, establishing a frantic mood right from the start. Siewert utilizes a number of flashy visual techniques. This includes split-screen, as Sonia shakes on the floor and the other woman searches for the drugs. There’s some nice use of light, shadow, and color as the red-tinted dungeon is revealed. There’s also some blurry shaky-cam closer to the end,  as the transformation grows more severe. On my first watch, I was convinced “Retch” was one of those shorts that are trying too hard to be disturbing. Characters scream profanity. There’s lots of gross body horror and slime covered special effects. It’s all a bit overdone... Until the pitch perfect ending, which wraps the four minutes up on a sarcastic joke. That moment raised “Retch” in my esteem, taking it from a try-hard gross-out to an amusing metaphor for menstruation. [7/10]

Halloween 2020: October 25th

Single White Female (1992)

Sometimes, a movie title enters our cultural lexicon of common phrases. A movie doesn't necessary have to be well-known for this to happen. “The Bucket List” is a pretty forgettable film but, somehow, its title is now a phrase with a specific meaning all across the English language. More people are probably familiar with the terms “gaslighting” and “catfishing” than they are with the movies “Gaslight” and “Catfish.” Yet, in the best case scenarios, popular successes and established cult classics are equally well known as movies and turns-of-phrase. If an athlete is called “Rocky” or if a romantic partner is pulling a “fatal attraction,” we all know what that means. “Single White Female” isn't as popular or influential as those films but  “single white female your roommate” is a phrase that has passed into somewhat common usage. Does this slightly trashy 1992 thriller deserve that level of recognition? “Yes” is the short answer. The rest of this review is the long answer. 

After he sleeps with his ex-wife, successful software designer Allie dumps her boyfriend, Sam. Now alone in a giant NYC apartment, Allie puts up an ad for another single white female to be her new roommate. After seeing a number of candidates, it is the shy and dowdy Hedra that Allie connects with. Nicknaming her Hedy, the two soon becomes close friends, even adopting a puppy together. That's when Sam re-enters Allie's life, winning her back and even proposing to her. Afterwards, Hedy's behavior begins to grow more erratic. She copies Allie's hair style. She threatens her abusive boss. She becomes possessive and moody, quickly terrifying Allie. After Sam mysteriously disappears, it becomes clear to Allie that Hedy isn't just unhinged. She's a killer too.

“Single White Female” was directed by Barbet Schroeder, who previously made critically acclaimed films like “Koko: A Talking Gorilla” and “Maîtresse.”  Those films are in the Criterion Collection while “Single White Female,” notably, is not. It's a slick erotic thriller, influenced by “Fatal Attraction” and released a few months after “Basic Instinct.” If Schroeder was making trash, he was making well assembled trash. The film looks beautiful, with atmospheric use of shadows and colors. The movie makes the most of its spacious apartment setting, the spiral staircase getting several notable shots. The Hell-like boiler room in the basement plays a role in the memorable climax. From a narrative perspective, “Single White Female” is sturdy. Most of the events of the last third are steadily set-up in the first. Only Allie's gropy boss attempting to rescue her feels like an awkward writing decision. 

Like all of the mainstream sex thrillers of the day, “Single White Female” represents a window into the early nineties' gender woes. The final shot depicts Allie and Hedy as two sides of the same image. Allie is a successful young woman. She's sexual but not slutty, refusing to sleep with her boss. As independent as Allie is, she still reunites with her boyfriend despite his infidelity. She still needs a man to save her. In other words, Allie is upwardly mobile but conforms to feminine standards. Hedy, meanwhile, masturbates too enthusiastically and hangs out in S&M clubs. Her attraction to Allie is obviously more than platonic. She's shy, bipolar, and pushes a puppy – a symbolic baby – out a window. Her past is made-up, fleeing one life to form another after it no longer suits her. Hedy rejects traditional sexuality, motherhood, family, and emotional stability. By presenting both women as mirror images, “Single White Female” is showing us what society – or, at least, the society of 1992 – thought a woman should and shouldn't be. 

The film's worldview – more than a little sexist and biphobic – is not why “Single White Female” endures, at least for me. As much of an unhinged villain as Allie becomes, she's also deeply sympathetic. Initially, Jennifer Jason Leigh plays her as a girl so withdrawn, she's constantly apologizing for her own existence. Allie is her first friend, accepting her flaws and quirks. The minute Allie goes back with Sam – an asshole who manipulates all the women in his life – Hedy feels betrayed. The only friend she's ever had no longer has time for her. This proceeds violent outbursts, awkward seductions, and manipulations of her own. These acts make sense in Hedy's broken world, desperate attempts to regain power over emotions she can't control. Mostly, intense depression follows Allie's unstable moments. This is obviously guilt she feels over things she did while in a manic episode. When she dictates a fake suicide letter to Allie, she's really describing her own feelings. Hedy's loneliness has led her to depression and extreme acts. 

If “Single White Female” focused entirely on taking us into Hedy's sad world, it would be an all-timer. Instead, it's a highly entertaining goofball thriller full of many improbable plot turns. Hedy's methods of murder, Allie's behavior while under her watchful eye, and how various interlopers become involved all strain believability. “Single White Female's” tone is often one of sweaty histrionics. It all operates smoothly though, looking beautiful and wonderfully cast. Yet there's something more powerful hiding within. Bridget Fonda, never more gorgeous, is a likable protagonist but Leigh's Hedy truly stands above as one of the nineties' saddest and most sympathetic deranged killers. [8/10]

The Psychic (1977)

Sette note in nero

Almost every October, I watch a Lucio Fulci movie and wonder if my opinion on the director will change any. Fulci's cult following remains intense and has only grown more fanatical over the years. He even received a meta documentary this year, seemingly canonizing the Italian gore-peddler in the Cult Directors Hall of Fame. I'm absolutely a fan of Fulci's gut-munching classics but generally regard him as a little bit of a hack. It's not artistry on the level of Argento or Bava. For this year's annual test to see if I get Fulci yet, I decided to watch one of his more understated titles. “The Psychic” is sometimes called Fulci's masterpiece but isn't discussed with the frequency of “The Beyond” or “Zombie.” 

Ever since seeing her mother leap to her death as a child, Virginia occasionally has psychic visions. She has recently married Italian businessman Francesco Ducci. After he leaves on a trip, Virginia has a vision of a dead woman, a body in a wall, and other assorted macabre imagery. As she arrives in Ducci's villa, she realizes it's the room she saw. Indeed, a skeleton is found within the wall. Ducci is immediately suspected as the killer. Virginia becomes determined to clear her husband's name, following various leads and having more unnerving visions. After teaming up with a parapsychologist, Virginia realizes she's not seeing events that have already happened. She's seeing events that are going to happen. 

“The Psychic” came late in the giallo cycle and a few years before Fulci started making gore-fests. It represents a surprisingly low key example of both the genre and the filmmaker's style. The color design is muted. No straight razors, black gloves, or first person murder scenes are included. The movie contains only a small amount of the red stuff. Instead, the film indulges other hallmarks. Fulci's visual sense includes plenty of tacky zooms, that dreaded signifier of seventies Euro-sleaze. “The Psychic's” plot is as convoluted as any other gialli. Virginia and her pals investigates a number of leads, several of which turn out to be red herrings. There's an entire subplot about horse racing that could not be more irrelevant while art theft ends up being central to the story. 

Honestly, I was ready to disregard “The Psychic” all together until it finally started to kick into gear in the last third. Like all giallo protagonist, Jessica has to snoop into things. After an hour of build-up, her visions begin to come true, which is fairly satisfying. The movie starts to engineer some solid suspense. Jessica is locked in a home with a killer, nearly avoiding detection. Locked doors and near misses cause the tension to elevate. The premonitions aren't the only plot point that's paid off, as the musical notes Jessica's watch plays – which lends the film its Italian title – give her away. The suspense reaches a fever pitch as the potential killer approaches Jessica across a thin scaffolding. Fabio Frizzi's score, which slowly becomes hypnotic, helps a lot. It escalates towards a surprisingly downbeat ending, which wraps the film up on a nicely ironic note. At this point, I started to get why some regard “The Psychic” as a classic.

Even during its duller earlier scenes, “The Psychic” has a likable protagonist in its favor. Jennifer O'Neill maintains a certain energy during her line delivery, always chipper and upbeat even when the situation gets increasingly hopeless. The backstory involving her mother contributes little to the film but gives you a reason to be on her side. You're rooting for her in those final scenes, which is probably why they are so suspenseful. O'Neill also has good chemistry with the supporting cast. Ida Galli is delightfully bitchy as Gloria, Virginia's friend who says things like “I've been married 500 times and haven't killed any of my husbands.” The movie could've used a little more of that campiness.

I'm not going to say that “The Psychic” is an undersung classic of Italian horror. I like my giallo with more style and my Fulci flicks with more intestines. Yet the movie does eventually turn into a strong thrill-generating machine. A solid score and a likable lead actress help soften the blow of the dragging first half. In the nineties, Tarantino wanted to remake the film with Bridget Fonda in the lead. That never came to pass but he did sample Frizzi's score in “Kill Bill.” “The Psychic” could probably do with a remake, as it contains some strong elements but also a number of big flaws. [7/10]

The Twilight Zone (2019): Blurryman

Even though every prior revival of “The Twilight Zone” has been doomed to linger in the shadow of Rod Serling's original, people keep trying. When a series is so iconic, and so recognizable that even the amusement park ride and pinball machine are popular, I guess producers can't help themselves. A new iteration of “The Twilight Zone,” hosted by Jordan Peele, would be an A-list original program for CBS' streaming service. It debuted last year amid much hype and won some decent reviews. (Though, like most shows in our supersaturated pop culture landscape, has already slipped from the discussion.) Considering I kicked off the season with an episode of the original “Zone,” an episode from the latest “Zone” seemed like a natural pick to cap off my run-through of anthology shows this year. Of the season one episodes, “Blurryman” was said to be the scariest and sounded interesting in its own right. 

“Blurryman” begins with a writer accidentally triggering Armageddon with his apocalyptic screenplay. As Peele appears to deliver the Serling-esque intro... He flubs his line and the camera pulls back. Peele asks writer Sophie Gleeson to punch up the narration before lunch break is over, putting the pressure on. Gleeson was a fan of the original “Twilight Zone” as a kid but is not dismissive of escapist entertainment. The cue cards she wrote strangely display another message. Soon, she is informed a blurry male figure is in the background of every shot. Not long afterwards, the Blurryman begins to pursue her through the empty set. But what is Sophie really running from?

As a horror-centric episode, “Blurryman” works reasonably well. The titular antagonist is a spooky sight, a distant figure that is never in focus but always drawing nearer. An empty film set proves to be an isolated, tense setting for a chase. Zazie Beetz is utterly charming as Sophie, even with her snobbish qualities. The audience is immediately willing to root for her as she outruns this strange adversary. Beetz' inherent toughness is also put to good use, as Sophie is determined to keep going. “Blurryman” is directed by prominent-screenwriter-turned-director Simon Kinberg, who previously unleahsed “Dark Phoenix” on the world. Kinberg does push quite a lot of special effects into this episode, owing to the Blurryman's telekinetic abilities. However, it's effective enough, constantly escalating the conflict and keeping the suspense high. Only the decisions to have Beetz conversing with a voice in her head drains away the tension.

As a simple chase story, “Blurryman” is successful. As a meta-commentary on the “Zone” itself, it doesn't quite stick the landing. The moral Sophie will learn, that escapism is as much art as socially conscious work, is laid out too early in advance. The scene that links her current attitude with her childhood is too obvious. Once Beetz ends up inside a classic “Twilight Zone” episode, “Blurryman's” meta-element officially graduates to self-congratulatory. The reveal of the titular character's identity is amusing but the ending still doesn't have the punch the writers were clearly hoping for. Perhaps “Blurryman” should've taken its own advice and focused more on the meat-and-potatoes thrills than the grandiose message. Still, I can already tell that 2019's “Twilight Zone” is at least less awkward than the 2002 version. [7/10]

The Video Store Commercial (2019)

Most of the horror shorts on Youtube are garbage, preoccupied with creating jump scares and the most obvious type of horror villains. Recently, a friend recommended the Youtube channel Alter to me, as an alternative to the dregs of CryptTV. And while a lot of Alter's stuff isn't much better than most, I have found a couple of pearls. “The Video Store Commercial” is probably my favorite discovery from the channel. It details an attempt by an enthusiastic movie nerd to shoot a commercial for his retro-video shop. During the shoot, a grip steps on a rare tape made by a cult leader, containing his very soul. Naturally, the spirit is unleashed and immediately begins to wreck gory havoc. Though a compromise is soon met.

The retro, static-filled, VHS aesthetic is thoroughly exhausted these days. However, “The Video Store Commercial” finds a clever spin on it. The only scenes carrying the tracking lines affected visual style are those shot through the camera itself. The overzealous video store owner is clearly an asshole, deflating the short's fanboy pretensions successfully. The grip getting the boom mic caught on a tape wrack is a good gag. Once the ghost appears, “The Video Store Commercial” unleashes a flood of amusingly gory special effects. A face being melted on a tube TV screen is easily the highlight. The evil spirit is depicted as a writhing mass of video tape, an amusing idea probably stolen from “Recorded Live.” “The Video Store Commercial” is all build-up to a punchline but it's a pretty good punchline. By not taking itself or the horror genre too seriously, this one successfully avoids the traps most horror shorts fall into. [7/10]