Welcome to the film-related musings, complaints, and comments of Zack Clopton, an amateur film-critic, scholar, and screenwriter. Featured here are Director's Report Cards, essays, and other reviews. Enjoy!
Last of the Monster Kids
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I don't know why it took nine years for Tamara Jenkins to make another movie. I can only assume the difficulties of acquiring financing for independent films played a role. Like her first feature, her second would also be distributed by Fox Searchlight. So clearly something worked out about the first time around. Whatever the reason for the delay, it would be worth it. “The Savages” would be beloved by critics. The reception was so positive that Jenkins' film would even earned two Oscar nomination, for Best Actress and Best Original Screenplay. It's the kind of achievement that should've launched its filmmaker to wider success and acclaim. That didn't quite happen but “The Savages” remains a valuable film.
One fine morning in the retirement village he lives in, Lenny Savage writes a fowl word in his own shit. Soon afterwards, his longtime girlfriend dies. Since the two had no legal entanglements, his not-stepkids are eager to get Lenny out. His estranged children, Wendy and Jon, come together to take care of their father. Lenny continues to slip into dementia quickly, forcing the siblings to put him in a home. As they live together in the days following Lenny's move, Wendy and Jon find many of the wounds of their childhood – and the difficult realities of their adult lives – coming to the forefront.
“The Savages” is about a harsh reality we're all going to deal with eventually. One day, our parents are going to die. The people who have taken care of us, who have – for better or worst – molded us, are going to grow old and frail and fall apart. The film addresses the harsh and ugly truths tied up with this. Wendy feels a flood of guilt, attempting to put her father in a nicer nursing home. Her dad, meanwhile, doesn't seem to recognize her at all most of the time. He yells inappropriately. He pisses and shits his pants. It's the extremely painful experience nobody should have to go through but many of us will have to experience anyway. “The Savages” goes to that difficult place with realism and bravery.
As much as “The Savages” is about the hard truth of dealing with a declining parent, it's as much about the relationship between Jon and Wendy. The added stress of handling their father's health brings out years worth of resentment. Wendy has struggled to become a successful playwright, dealing with countless rejections from institutes and toiling away in piddling temp jobs. Jon is a drama professor, currently attempting to complete an academic study of Bertolt Brecht. Their similar dreams and ambitions put Jon and Wendy in the tricky situation of rooting for and against each other. Both are envious of any successes, both wounded by years of feeling some support or another hasn't been given. Eventually, those feelings overflow into shouting arguments. None of this should be unfamiliar to anyone who has a complicated relationship with a sibling. Nobody knows someone for their whole lives without feeling some resentment towards them.
Yet it's not all long-simmering tension and strained conversations between Wendy and Jon. There's warmth and humor there too. When Wendy comes to stay at Jon's home, she has to move around piles of books. To which he, humorously, insists there's some sort of sense of organization. An attempt to unwind with a tennis game soon goes awry, Jon hurting himself. The next sequence, where Wendy hooks him up to a visibly awkward suspension device, is full of familiar, sweet laughter. As easy as it is for siblings to snipe at each other, you also don't go knowing someone your whole life without having some warm feelings towards them too. “The Savages” beautifully captures the sometimes rough back-and-forth we have with our siblings.
“The Savages” is a movie that is full of awkward situations. Sometimes, the film plays these moments for the most uncomfortable sort of humor. The Savage siblings assemble a screening of “The Jazz Singer” for the nursing home... And can only sit back in discomfort as the sequences of blackface play out before the predominantly black nursing staff. Later, Jon and Wendy have a loud argument about the predatory nature of the nursing home industry in a parking lot. Only before a woman with her elderly parent slowly pushes by them. You definitely cringe a little during these moments but there's humor there too. Because these scenes are too relatable not to find some level of laughs there.
Mostly, “The Savages” harnesses its uncomfortable situations to create an indelible feeling of sadness. As Wendy tries to lead Lenny to the bathroom while on the plane ride, his pants fall down. A lesser director would've played that for laughs but Jenkins feels too keenly for her characters not to play this moment for tragedy. Wendy attempts to find a special pillow she bought her dad, grabbing it away from a crying old woman... Only to discover that her dad doesn't want the pillow anyway. There's a similar energy to a moment where Wendy attempts to kiss an orderly, only for him to gently push her away. It's all feels so real, so painful, as to be almost intolerable.
This kind of bristling material lives and dies depending on the strength of the actors involved. Luckily, Jenkins found two wonderful performers to star as the sibling. Laura Linney brings the appropriate complexity to Wendy. She's a woman going through a mid-life crisis. She's sleeping with a married man. Sometimes, she tells lies in order to gain sympathy or attention. She casually pops pills, depending on them for relief in a way that suggest a low-key addiction. There's definitely something desperate about her attempt to get her autobiographical play produced. Linney never plays Wendy as only pathetic or broken. She's complicated and Linney grants her the honor of that complexity.
Starring opposite Linney is Philip Seymour Hoffman as Jon. If Wendy wears her insecurities on her sleeve, Jon often obscures his feelings behind a stoic exterior. When Wendy asks if he's ever going to marry his longtime girlfriend, Jon is evasive. While Wendy is increasingly shaken or in denial about dad's condition, Jon accepts it immediately. In the last act, even after receiving news that Lenny has passed, Jon remains quiet in front of his classroom. Hoffman doesn't play the character as cruel but as so tightly wound, that he's fearful he'd unravel totally if any emotion was let through. He also brings a certain degree of dryly comedic sarcasm to the part. “The Savages” was released the same year as “Before the Devil Knows Your Dead,” another Philip Seymour Hoffman movie about siblings.
Another interesting element of “The Savages” is how self-reflective it is. Throughout the film, Wendy is insecure about her play being about upper middle-class, white angst. One can't help but imagine Jenkins is commenting on her own film here. This is far from the only reference to pop culture mediums in “The Savages.” A support group for people with senile family members suggest watching an old movie to connect the person with their past. Lenny relates so much to “The Jazz Singer,” that he starts to believe it's a document of his own childhood. A conversation between Wendy and her boyfriend directly references “The Blue Angel.” Jon's fixation on Brecht, who he references as a writer who didn't give people happy endings, seems to reflect his own attitudes about life. How we use art to relate to our own lives is wrapped up inside 'The Savages.”
Another element floating at “The Savages'” margins is how animals help us process our feelings. Wendy's married boyfriend always drags his elderly dog with him on their dates. During an especially unenthusiastic love making session, Wendy reaches out and touches the sad dog's paw. She also has a cat, named Genghis the Beast, that she relates to throughout the film. She brings the cat to visit her father in the nursing home, the animal forming a bond of sorts with the elderly man. Animals provide stability for the characters during their roughest moments, giving love and support that was sorely lacking from their father.
In “The Savages,” we also see Jenkins' visual sense developing. The film begins with idyllic footage of life in the retirement village. It's bright and sunny, as smiling faces frolic in various ways. This contrasts strongly with the rest of the film, which is set in overcast cities. Jenkins makes you feel the warmth of those initial senses, as well as the chilliness of the rest of the movie. This seems an illustration of the sunniness we hope our latter years will be filled with and the far grimmer reality of the situation.
“The Savages'” overwhelmingly positive reception and its Oscar nominations for Linney and Jenkins' screenplay brought a level of acclaim the director hadn't yet seen in their career. Nowadays, when people revisit the film, it's almost always seen as a tribute to what a wonderful talent the late, great Philip Seymour Hoffman was. I suppose that's unavoidable, when a beloved performer that died too young himself starred in a movie about dying. “The Savages” is funny and sad in equal doses. More than anything else, it's a deeply humane film, grappling with universal truths and giving its characters flaws and quirks that make them seem all the more real. [Grade: B+]
Even among big movie buffs, Tamara Jenkins is not a name that's especially well-known. Since getting her start in the mid-nineties, she's only made three movies. Her name does not appear on many lists of well-known woman directors. (And she's not related to the previously covered Patty Jenkins.) While all of her movies have been well-received, it's hard to say that any of them are classics exactly. Yet each one of her highly autobiographic indie dramadies are absolutely worth seeking out. I like to think this brief Director Report Card will be shining a light on a filmmaker who deserves more attention.
Writer/director Tamara Jenkins was born in Philly to a Jewish father and an Italian-American mother. Her dad used to own a nightclub. After her parents separated, she lived with her father and brothers in Beverly Hills. Eventually, Jenkins' oldest brother would have to take custody of Tamara and her siblings, suggesting the situation was pretty dysfunctional. Years later, Jenkins would draw on these very personal memories for her feature debut. “Slums of Beverly Hills” is also about a Jewish girl living with her brothers and recently divorced, former nightclub owner father in Beverly Hills. While not especially popular upon release in 1998, “Slums of Beverly Hills” has attracted a dedicated audience of defenders over the years.
Vivian Abromowitz doesn't like her family much. Her father is a failed used car salesman,. Her older brother, Ben, is a hopelessly nerdy wannabe actor. Vivian has recently turned fourteen and suddenly grown large breasts, much to her embarrassment. Dad wakes her up in the middle of the night and moves the whole family unexpectedly into a cheap apartment complex in lower Beverly Hills. Around the same time Rita, Vivian's cousin and a recovering drug addict, arrives to live with them. Her father receives an allowance from his rich brother to make sure Rita is getting her life back on track. Vivian bonds with the troubled Rita and attempts to navigate the difficult waters of adolescence.
“Slums of Beverly Hills” is a movie about familial bonds. The Abromowitz reluctantly refer to themselves as nomads on a few occasions. Because of his precarious financial straits, the family never stays in one place very long. This has certainly left Vivian in an awkward situation, further compounded by the dorkiness of her brothers. Ultimately, however, the Abromowitz only have themselves. The climax re-enforces the idea that these misfits really only have each other to rely on. The film comes full circle in a charming way, nailing this idea home without overdoing it too much. Vivian's family may be dysfunctional and she may not always like them but these are the people that love her and she loves them.
Jenkins' film is also a coming-of-age story, touching on many of the themes you expect from the genre. Vivian is coming to grips with her changing body, with her growing sexuality. She is insecure about her breasts and the attention they draw, considering getting a reduction all throughout the film. She has a flirtatious relationship with Elliot, a teenage drug dealer living in the apartment. Obsessed with Charles Manson and believing himself to be way cooler than he is, Elliot is nevertheless attractive to Vivian because he's available and low-stakes. Rita introduces Vivian to her vibrator, which truly makes an impression on the girl. The film is a funny, touchingly candid portrayal of a young woman dipping her toes into the world of adult relationships.
“The Slums of Beverly Hills” was obviously more than a little autobiographical for Jenkins. The writer/director had star Natasha Lyonne wear the large, fake breasts in public, to give her a taste of what it would be like actually looking like that. So I suspect the subplot about Vivian's boobs reflects some personal experience of Jenkins'. Vivian is told that this is a trait she inherited from her (kept totally off-screen) mother. It's a part of her legacy. The film similarly approaches her Jewish heritage. Very little explicit attention is drawn to Vivian's cultural background. Yet so much about the characters – their appearance, their speech, their attitudes about fine dining – speaks to an inherent Jewishness. Much like her bra size, Vivian is clearly ambivalent to her background at first but eventually realizes that the things she carries with from her parents are part of who she is too.
Jenkins tells this story with a light comedic touch. She orchestrates a number of amusing comedic episodes. “The Slums of Beverly Hills” is especially good at jokes that escalate, creating more laughs as they go on. When Rita introduces Vivian to her vibrator, that slowly becomes a dance number set to Parliament's “Give Up the Funk,” which then ends in just about the most awkward way imaginable. This is far from the only example of “Slums of Beverly Hills” mining the awkwardness of Vivian's transition into womanhood for laughs. When getting her period at her father's girlfriend's house, she's introduces to an antiquated tampon belt that is frankly horrifying. The stand-out comedic sequence of the film occurs when Rita is discovered unconscious in the apartment, more and more inconveniences piling atop each other in a likably mad cap fashion.
If you watch “The Slums of Beverly Hills” for no other reason, I'd recommend watching it for Natasha Lyonne's lead performance. Filmed around the same time as “But I'm a Cheerleader!,” Lyonne makes a real impression. She adapts a totally convincing East Coast accent, making her stick out even more in the West Coast setting. From her stiff body language on down, she does everything she can to convey the character's awkwardness. Yet Vivian isn't defined solely by her teenage misery. Lyonne brilliantly brings Vivian's defiant side to life too, showing her as a character attempting to define herself in a constricting world. I don't know how Lyonne didn't become a huge star after a performance like this.
Jenkins didn't just find the right young actress to star in her film. The supporting cast is full of talented, familiar faces too. Alan Arkin is frequently hilarious as Vivian's dad. He's clearly a man that has created an elaborate mythology around himself in his head, to make up for the frequently pathetic reality. Arkin does a good job of showing both sides of this, as a man desperately attempting to prove himself but frequently held back by all the mistakes he's made. David Krumholtz is amusing as the frequently selfish older brother, who seems hopelessly optimistic about his own future. Kevin Corrigan does a good job of striking a balance between sleazy weirdo and genuinely concerned outsider as Elliot. Jenkins also includes amusing last act cameos from Carl Reiner and Rita Moreno.
Marissa Tomie is, as you'd probably expect, fantastic as Rita. She's manic when need be, while suggesting the intense angst the character feels all the time that pushes her towards such extreme actions. Yet I wish that subplot was a little more developed. We only ever get hints of Rita's story. She obviously has some sort of boyfriend, whom we never actually meet on-screen. He seems to randomly abandon her, exacerbating Rita's dependence on drugs. Rita's problems eventually get too much to handle, forcing her not-so-dramatic exit from the film. I wish we got a little more of her story. I understand that this is ultimately Vivian's tale but Rita's subplot is a little underdeveloped, when there was obviously plenty of material here to beef it up.
“Slums of Beverly Hills” is largely a comedy, with many dramatic moments. Yet one moment is clearly more severe than any of the others. Vivian's father and Rita have a conversation in the middle of the night, that Vivian spies on. While wallowing in his latest pity party, Murray reaches over and gropes Rita. It's not a moment that film draws a lot of attention to. It acknowledges that this previously lovable, if troubled, character did something monumentally shitty. Rita seems to shrug it off, Vivian has to accept it. That's a hard truth we all have to struggle with: Sometimes the people we love do fucked-up things. How do we grapple with that? The film doesn't have any concrete answers. We just have to live with it sometimes.
Tamara Jenkins clearly isn't just a strong writer. “Slums of Beverly Hills” is also a really strong visual film. The editing is razor sharp, often punctuating the comedic beats. The film also makes excellent use of its seventies setting. The production design is very good. The shag carpenter and puke-orange colors, that distinctive 1970s aesthetics, is perfectly captured. The fashion is similarly garish, in that immediately recognizable style. It's an obvious statement to say that the filmmaker actually lived through this decade. The amount of detail in every set, in all the surroundings, is apparent.
That attention to period accuracy is also obvious in the soundtrack. The film is filled with the radio hits of the day. You'll recognize songs from Three Dog Night, the Bellamy Brothers, Ike and Tina Turner, and Perry Como. The curation of songs is generally very good. Less memorable is the score. Rolfe Kent's score is a little too on-the-nose, sounding exactly like what you'd expect a quirky but character-driven nineties indie to sound like. Some of the film's moments probably called for music that was a little less goofy.
”Slums of Beverly Hills” was not exactly a break-out hit of the nineties indie movie scene. It got a little loss in the shuffle at the time. However, the film received healthy reviews and even grabbed a couple of nominations from various awards. Fans would eventually circle around the movie, largely thanks to cable television screening. That's how I first saw it, catching an early-in-the-morning showing on the Bravo Channel back when that network still showed classy movies. It's always stuck with me. “Slums of Beverly Hills” is a gem, a beautifully acted and composed comedy with lots of heart and a number of other things on its mind too. While not groundbreaking necessarily, it succeeds at almost everything it sets out to do. [Grade: B+]
We always knew Halloween in 2020 was going to be weird. Parties and get-togethers were cancelled. Trick-or-treators largely stayed home in my area, due to obvious reasons, meaning there wasn't anyone to hand out candy to. I basically ended up dressing up in a costume – a giallo-inspired get-up I largely improvised that would also responsibly cover my face – just to hang around the house. Yet I still carved a jack-o-lantern and eat frankly way too much candy before settling into a night of watching horror movies. Halloween night itself always ends up feeling a little anticlimactic after you celebrate for six whole weeks. Anyway, on with the final set of reviews for 2020's Halloween Horror-Fest Blog-a-Thon.
As I've said in the past, the Halloween special has never caught on to the degree that the Christmas special has. A number of attempts have been made to replicate the iconic success of “It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!” but all of them faded away after a few years. While we usually get a new Christmas special with some regularity, we are lucky if a new Halloween special pops up once a decade. Yet, occasionally, someone will try. In 1997, cartoonist Jill Thompson began publishing comics and story books revolving around Scary Godmother. They proved popular enough that, in 2003, Thompson's characters would make the leap to animation. “Scary Godmother: Halloween Spooktactular” would debut in 2003, airing on Cartoon Network a few times over the years, and seems to be something of a nostalgic favorite for zoomers. Let's see if these withered millennial eyes can draw any enjoyment from this bit of seasonal kid-friendly spookiness.
Little Hannah Marie is going trick-or-treating with her older cousin Jimmy and his friends Daryl, Katie, and Bert. Jimmy resents having to drag the younger girl along and decides to play a cruel trick on her. He locks her in a local abandoned house, set to be home to monsters. Inside, Hannah Marie meets her Scary Godmother, a friendly witch. Scary takes her to the Fright-Side, an alternate world where monsters live, and joins the witch's Halloween party. She meets a sassy skeleton, a family of angsty vampires, a verbose but gluttonous werewolf, and a laid-back bug-a-boo. Uncertain at first, Hannah soon befriends all of them. As Halloween night comes to close, her new friends help her give Jimmy some of his own medicine.
Much of the criticism around “Scary Godmother” revolves around its animation. The special was produced by Mainframe Productions, creators of childhood favorites like “ReBoot” and “Beast Wars.” The CGI animation in those shows is dated but looked okay. The company would use a new software/animation pipeline for “Scary Godmother.” Which might explain why the characters in this look so horrifying. Their skin and faces stretch like waxy meat marionettes. The kids all have beady eyes except when they are scared and their eyes bulge out, which is grotesque looking. Hannah Marie, meanwhile, always has big, wide anime eyes which look weird. Scary Godmother's face is strange looking at time but most of the monsters are more tolerable to look at. Except for Harry the werewolf, whose disturbingly fleshy lips float at the end of his hairy face, the fur floating an inch above his skin. That the characters are so unnerving is a shame, as the backgrounds – done in a shell-shaded style, resembling cut-out paper art – look quite nice. Thompson's character designs are actually pretty cool but certainly didn't translate to low-budget CGI.
Once you overlook how unpleasant “Scary Godmother's” animation often is, it's actually a decently amusing bit of kid-friendly silliness. There are a number of good jokes here, concerning the kids' costumes. Daryl goes as a chewed piece of candy while Burt is a superstar baseball player in a cardboard SUV, which leads to multiple decent jokes. Scary Godmother and her monster friends are amusing. Skully is Scary's sassy gay best friend, which is not subtext. He explicitly refers to himself as “the skeleton in the closest.” The neurotic vampire family made me chuckle, as the dad has trouble adapting to modern life. Those are examples of the sometimes adult streak of humor in the special, like when a demonic pizza boy asks Scary if she wants to pay with her soul. Harry the werewolf is terrible though.
“Halloween Spooktactular” runs a little too long, even at only 47 minutes long. The story is padded out with dance montages, a recipe segment, and lots of slapstick jokes. This probably should have only been a half-hour long, instead of an hour. The voice work is lively, with “Beast Wars'” Scott McNeil and Garry Chalk playing most of the monsters. If you can look pass the distressing animation, which is somewhat difficult, there might be some fun to find here. “Scary Godmother: Halloween Spooktactular” was apparently popular enough to spawn a sequel, “Jimmy's Revenge,” the next year. I liked this one just enough to maybe give that one a look at some point in the future. [6/10]
There's a habit among certain film fans to assume everything was better in the Golden Age of Cinema. That there weren't as many remakes, sequels, or cheap cash-in attempts. Anybody with an ounce of actual knowledge about Hollywood history knows this couldn't be further from the truth. The thirties and forties were rift with on-going franchises and new versions of familiar tales. In 1932, Warner Bros. made a minor classic with “Doctor X,” a movie more famous for its catchy title than its actual content. Nearly a decade later, the studio would release a movie called “The Return of Doctor X.” Despite what the title and advertising clearly hoped to make the audience think, this “Doctor X” had nothing to do with the 1932 “Doctor X.” Most infamously, “The Return of Doctor X” is the only horror/sci-fi credit of Humphrey Bogart.
Reporter Walter Barrett is sent to interview actress Angela Merrova, only to find her dead body instead. After informing the police, the corpse has vanished and Merrova appears to sue the newspaper for libel. Barrett smells a mystery, especially after another corpse totally devoid of blood is discovered. Teaming up with Dr. Rhobes, Barrett is led to a strange surgeon named Dr. Flegg. Flegg's mysterious assistant reminds Barrett of Dr. Xavier, a child murderer who was executed last year. After discovering Flegg has invented a way to revive dead bodies, he discovers that Dr. Xavier has returned... And he needs fresh blood in order to stay alive.
Just recently I've mentioned that horror films in the thirties and forties often straddled the line between regular murder mysteries. For most of its run time, “The Return of Doctor X” is about two leads investigating various leads. There's lots of scenes of Barrett interviewing people looking through old newspaper clippings, and spying on suspects. His boss at the newspaper chews him out on numerous occasions. Wayne Morris plays Barrett as the fast-talking, sarcastic reporters you associate with the films of this era. Dennis Morgan operates as his straight-laced sidekick and Rosemary Lane is his often flirted-with love interest. It's not totally without entertainment value. (Especially a bizarre moment involving a pet monkey, in which the animal is clearly terrified.) Yet it's not the type of entertainment you expect from a black-and-white horror movie.
So “The Return of Doctor X” is largely devoid of classic horror atmosphere. The scenes of dead bodies being discovered are treated more like a procedural. The urban setting leaves little room for fog or shadows. There's lots of scenes of people standing around and talking, including one where Dr. Flegg explains the villain's backstory in extensive detail. Finally, after discovering that Doctor Xavier is a blood-drinking revenant, the film finally starts to get spooky. The finale is set out in a barn drowned in mist. A maiden is tied to an operating table and a mob arrives to kill the monster. (Though they are cops with pistols, instead of villagers with torches and pitchforks.) Yet it's too little, too late by that point. “The Return of Doctor X” should've deployed this stuff far earlier.
This is not the only element “The Return of Doctor X” underutilizes. Despite Bogart getting top-billing, he doesn't appear until fifteen minutes into the film. Bogart makes an impression, introduced with a white shock in his hair while wearing a buttoned-up lab coat and cradling a rabbit. Yet Bogart largely just glowers through his scenes, the film not finding much of a use for him. Once he puts on a fedora and cape in the last act, his face shiny and pale, Bogie finally becomes a convincing horror movie villain. Yet I just don't understand the logic of getting an iconic star of the time, building the title and marketing campaign around him, and then giving him nothing to do until the last five minutes. That's just setting yourself up for disappointment.
Bogart, reportedly, despised making the film. The star supposedly thought the script was trash, resented being stuck into a part better suited for someone like Boris Karloff, and thought he was being underpaid. For what it's worth, Bogie gives a totally serviceable performance and never lets any disapproval he might've felt show. He looks striking in the villainous outfits with greasepaint slathered on his face. It's a shame “The Return of Doctor X's” greatest novelty value lies in seeing a Golden Age icon in a pulpy role. Sadly, the movie can't even live up to that humble attraction, by downplaying the much-needed spookiness and reducing the title character's screen time. [5/10]
A couple of years ago, I was introduced to the album “The Evil One” by Roky Erickson and the Aliens. At this point, I had no familiarity with Erickson's work with groundbreaking psychedelic band the 13th Floor Elevators. Yet I was totally swept up in the acid-rock phantasma of “The Evil One,” a collection of hard rocking songs inspired by Erickson's tumultuous mental health history and his obsession with classic monster movies. It was one hundred percent My Kind of Thing and quickly became one of my all time favorite records. One of the songs on “The Evil One” is “Creature with the Atom Brain.” As with many of the songs on the album, the title and lyrics were taken directly from a fifties B-movie. After knowing the song by heart, I decided this was the year I actually take in the cinematic “Creature with the Atom Brain.”
A strange man, seemingly impervious to bullets, breaks through a window, utters some mysterious words to a gangster, and then snaps his spine in half. The next day the police, led by forensic specialist Chet Walker, discover radioactive finger prints and learn that the killer was a dead man. As more murders follow, it's soon discover that a German scientist named Dr. Steigg has developed a way to use atomic energy to manipulate dead bodies. Gangster Frank Buchanan is using Steigg's technology to get revenge on those who have wronged him. Can Chet and the cops uncover the truth before the Creatures with the Atom Brains overwhelm the city?
“Creature with the Atom Brain” was cheaply made by producer Sam Kurtzman – the man behind “The Giant Claw” and “The Zombies of Mora Tau” – to fill out a double-bill headlined by “It Came from Beneath the Sea.” Despite that dubious distinction, the film had some real talent being the camera. Genre legend Curt Siodmak provided the script and Edward L. Cahn, who went on to minor classics like “Invasion of the Saucer Men” and “It! The Terror Beyond Space,” directed. Together, they made a surprisingly intense flick. Within the opening minutes, we see a blank-faced zombies break through a window and snap a man in half. Later, another atomic marionette lifts a man up and shatters his neck. Naturally, the murders are all largely off-screen or in shadows. Yet one can't help but be impressed by the directness with which “Creature with the Atom Brain” approaches its violence.
The film is also notable for its setting. Most fifties monster movies are set in the city or in some secluded desert town. “Creature with the Atom Brain” takes place in the clean, modern suburbs. Which brings some interesting connotations to mind. Though never directly confirmed, Dr. Steigg is implied to be a former Nazi. That the reanimated killers are explicitly radioactive tries right into the horrors of the nuclear bomb. The police start carrying Geiger counters everywhere, even searching for radioactivity via plane. In other words: World War II was over but its spectre continued to haunt the world. By visiting these threats directly on a wholesome, picket-fences suburban neighborhood, “Creature with the Atom Brain” visited far-off and thought-vanquished horrors on the heart of America. The parallel is made even more direct in scenes where the atom-brained creatures lay siege to the institutes of the area.
Do not let that description give the impression that “Creature with the Atom Brain” is deeper than it is. This is still a cheesy sci-fi monster movie. Despite taking place in a town overwhelmed with radioactive killer corpses, life in the suburbs rarely seems interrupted. Chet's wife stays at home, cooking and cleaning. When he gets called away to investigate, she has to leave dinner in the oven. She's always ready for a martini, offering to make them in several scenes. (And taking a swig herself, which is apparently more than she can handle.) Yet, whenever he wants some smooches and romance, she's more than willing to cooperate. The couple's daughter is utterly naïve, preoccupied with her dolls. The gee-shucks fifties sexism creates a number of ironic laughs, especially when contrast with the monster movie violence. Richard Dennings, star of so many fifites sci-fi flicks, plays the part with the exact level of head-sure heroism that you'd expect.
The science behind “Creature with the Atom Brain” is very silly, though it tries to sound scientific by dropping terms like amygdala and references to experiments involving brain stimulation. Like most fifties B-movie, the mad scientist is eventually stricken down by his own creations. The evil is banished and peace is returned to the suburbs. Compact and too the point, with a likable cast and some decent direction, this is a perfectly relaxed and entertaining piece of fifties schlock. By the way, it is surprising hearing so many of the lines Roky Erickson directly quotes in the song actually used in context. I think I still like the song better than the movie but that's not really a mark against the film. [7/10]
A few years back, the success of “The Witch” pushed the term “folk horror” to the forefront of film nerd culture. Suddenly, everyone was eager to classify movies about rituals, folklore, and pastoral horrors. This newfound fascination would also push some overlooked films back into the light. “The Blood on Satan's Claw” was an attempt by Tigon Productions to recreate “Witchfinder General's” popularity but didn't connect much with audiences at the time. I read about it in John Kenneth Muir's “”Horror Films of the 1970s” as a teenager. Shortly afterwards, I caught up with the movie, found it mildly creepy, but never thought much of it afterwards. After the folk horror revival, “Blood on Satan's Claw” has suddenly been elevated to classic status. Halloween seems like the ideal day to revisits this one myself.
Ralph Gower, a poor farmer in early 1800s England, uncovers an unusual looking skull while plowing his field. Very strange things follow the discovery. The friends of a local judge seemingly experience demonic possession, their body parts become bestial. Using bones from the same field, a teenage girl named Angel Blake begins to draw the youth of the community into ritual witchcraft. Furry patches of skin sprout on people's bodies. Angel and her gang murder and perform dark magic, their acts soon being discovered. As the Judge returns to investigate, it becomes clear that the devil himself has been reborn in this small village.
“The Blood on Satan's Claw's” greatest assets is the genuinely eerie feeling it summons throughout. From the very first scene, Mark Wilkinson's creepy score establishes a sense of dream-like unreality. The music and that primordial opening, of something unnatural being dug up from the earth, prepare the audience's mind for the strangeness to come. The characters are locked into frightful hallucinations, of savage claws ripping through floorboards, and the viewer feels similarly entranced. Much like "The Witch," the film captures the tone of actual witchcraft accounts from the time. The film's fright sequences are nonsensical but primal. Greasy patches of hairy skin growing on the body, a visualization of the devil's insidious infection, strikes the same tone. The creepy horrors peak during a ritual rape scene, in the ruins of an abandoned church, a moment that grows in distressing intensity until the inevitable violence happens.
Like many historical witchcraft movies, "The Blood on Satan's Claw" is wrapped up in Puritan themes. Angel attempts to seduce the village curate, stripping nude in the chapel. The young maiden at the center of the rape sequence, whether caught up in Satanic influence or unleashed lust, almost seems to enjoy it. While clearly discussing ideas like sexual repression or religious intolerance, I think the film's primary concerns are more contemporary. The organizers of the devil cult are all teenagers. A boy tosses bones on a table behind his parents' back. The youth gather in secret, their minds corrupted by evil influences. The film was surely invoking Charles Manson and other tales of hippy death cults, making its modern theme of teens doing evil and running amok more archetypal by placing it hundreds of years in the past. The kids were never alright, not in modern day cities and not in 1800s English villages.
"The Blood on Satan's Claw" has a wonderfully disquieting atmosphere and a number of spooky visuals. What it doesn't have is a hero we can actually root for. Patrick Wymark's unnamed judge is the de-facto hero, even getting to swing a claymore at the devil's physical embodiment at the end. Yet he's off-screen for long stretches of the film. Moreover, Wymark plays the role as rough and authoritative, making him hard to relate to. Ralph the ploughman is a passive presence. The teens are corrupted by evil and, more importantly, locked in a trance-like state that leaves little room for personality. Much like "Witchfinder General," the film acknowledges the bullshit witch-hunting tactics of the time. Like when a girl is tossed into a river, to see if she'll float or drown. Unlike "Witchfinder General," the devil is a real and active force of evil here, putting the film in the awkward position of making cruel witch hunters its heroes.
Perhaps the film's moral uncertainty is part of the point. The devil is vanquished at the end but the victory feels far from certain. The unsettling energy continues through the end credits. And sometimes all a horror movie needs is a successful atmosphere of dread and some freaky images. The film's reappraisal is not underserved and it's clearly a significant entry in the folk horror cycle. (And obviously a huge influence on Robert Eggers and Ben Wheatley.) Even during the devil movie craze of the seventies, this was a unique approach to the material. Watched late-at-night on All Hallow's Eve, it definitely makes an impression. [7/10]
Every Halloween night, I have to watch an eighties slasher movie. The subgenre is just too ingrained into my identity as a horror fan. Some years, I'll watch an established cult classic of the blood-soaked style. Other years, I'll watch something weird. During my slasher fan heydays, an image I often encountered was the killer in “Girls Nite Out.” A flea-beaten mascot costume with bright yellow googly eyes, it's an extremely comical idea for a horror villain. Despite how unforgettable I've found that image, I've never actually sat down and watch “Girls Nite Out” before. That changes tonight. Yep, this year, I'm doing a weird one.
New fraternity pledges at DeWitt University are regaled with the legend of Dickie Cavanaugh, a student that went mad and murdered his girlfriend years ago. But this is not on the student body's mind this night. After the basketball team wins the championship, the next night a campus-wide scavenger hunt is organized for the girls. As the sorority sisters tune in to receive clues from the radio station, someone more sinister is lurking. A person in the team's mascot outfit has outfitted the bear paws with actual claws, killing the girls they come across. Can Officer MacVay, the campus security guard who put away Dickie a decade ago, stop the murderous mascot in time?
The best slasher movies have lovable and well realized characters that we can care about, so we're left genuinely concerned over who will be bloodily dispatched next. Most slasher films, however, just have a bunch of stereotypes belligerently interact with each other for twenty minutes until the killin' starts. “Girls Nite Out” obviously falls into the latter category. None of the characters are especially distinct. There's a goofy prankster guy, a meathead junk, a more contemplative jock. Even though the sorority sisters are ostensibly the main characters, none of them even get as much personality as their male counterparts. Do you really care about any of the petty relationship drama here, over whether this particular couple will break? Or if one person will trade their lover for someone else?
No, you don't care about any of that because these characters are just bodies about to be killed. As a slasher movie, “Girls Nite Out” is not especially novel in its gore. The killer improvising a weapon by shoving steak knives through the bear paws is a cool idea. However, the death scenes are largely composed of throat slashings. A bludgeoning with a shovel or an off-screen stabbing do not stand out much. Instead, “Girls Nite Out” distinguishes its violence with a mean-spirited streak. See, our brutal bear is different from most slashers because it talks. As the women are sliced up, the murderer calls them sluts and whores. The slasher genre is often accused of misogyny, a frequently misplaced label. “Girls Nite Out,” however, really does seem to have genuine hostility to its female characters.
So the characters are entirely shallow and the bloody special effects are low-effort. Aside from the violent misogyny, what does “Girls Nite Out” have going for it? Mostly that goofy bear costume. Turning a sports mascot into a slasher disguise is not the worst idea. However, the Dancing Bear costume in “Girls Nite Out” is way too silly to be intimidating. The big yellow eyes and wagging red tongue are simply cartoonish. How are we suppose to be scared when a knock-off amusement park cast member is tearing out throats? Aside from the unforgettably absurd slasher, “Girl Nites Out” does have a retro soundtrack. Golden oldies from The Lovin' Spoonful, Tommy James and the Shondells, and other nostalgia acts are featured throughout. It's definitely surprising that a low budget horror movie would be able to afford so many recognizable songs.
The songs are also the likely reason why “Girls Nite Out” is out-of-print. An overly dark and blurry DVD was released in the early 2000s and the film has never been reissued since. I can't imagine too many boutique DVD/Blu-Ray labels are willing to pony up the licensing money for those songs for the sake of this movie. Unless you are a definitive slasher fanatic – or a die-hard Hal Holbrook fan, who gives a very bored performance as the Dr. Loomis-like campus security guard – there's no particular compelling reason to seek this one out. The film has a twist ending, which at least ends things on an odd note. The whole movie is pretty odd, which is balanced out by its more tedious qualities. But I still like that dumb-ass bear. [5/10]
If I've begun almost every Halloween Horror-fest Blog-a-Thon with a silent movie, I like to end each October with a release from this year. In particular, to make the occasion extra-special, I always try and find a new release specifically set on Halloween. Here in 2020, and most likely because the pandemic has caused so many films to be delayed, pickings were slim for new horror movies set on Halloween. I was intrigued by “The Babysitter's Guide to Monster Hunting” because it was a new film from Rachel Taladay. However, that one looks more like a kid-friendly, Y.A. adaptation than a horror film. I really would've liked to have seen “What Will Happen Next Will Scare You,” the new film from the makers of “WNUF Halloween Special.” However, that movie streamed at one online festival and isn't available anywhere else. I was so desperate I almost put “Hubie Halloween” on my watch list. That's when I heard about micro-budget horror/comedy “Mass Hystertia,” set in Salem, MA on October 31st.
Paige is part of a group of historical performers in Salem, Massachusetts. She wears period accurate clothes and acts in the same play about the witch trials every day. Paige's agent, however, has promised her an acting job on Broadway. As Halloween night, the busiest time of year for Salem, approaches, Paige's costars throw her a going-away party. At her final performance of the stage show, she directs her monologue at an obnoxious audience member. He then falls dead on the spot. Terrified, the crowd of tourists begin to suspect Paige is an actual witch. Their fear, intensified by other weird events, drives the tourists into an angry mob. Paige and the rest of her cast members are soon running for their lives.
More than one review I've read of “Mass Hysteria” refers to it as an Edger Wright wannabe. That is an accurate statement. Directors Arielle Cimino and Jeff Ryan – previously of a comedy called "YouthMin" – ape Wright's visual style gratuitously. This mostly amounts to an endless number of crash-zooms on various objects. Tightening bodices, cakes, phones, signs, and more are zoomed in on in quick succession. Cimino and Ryan even incorporates the same “whooshing” sound effect Wright uses during the same technique. Though clearly derivative, this style does make sure that “Mass Hysteria” has a breezy comedic energy to many of its scenes. The film is sharply edited and paced, which counts for a lot. (The film is also only 66 minutes long, further ensuring it never drags much.)
If “Mass Hysteria” has a major flaw, it's that the mobs of deranged tourists never feel like much of a threat. They are far too goofy to be scary. Several of them are dressed in ridiculous outfits. A few of the tourists have exaggerated German accents, a worn-out gag that stopped being funny years ago. Further diluting any possible tension is that the tourists are regularly vomiting and farting, making sure they are perpetually comedic figures, not frightening ones. That wouldn't be an issue if “Mass Hysteria” wasn't occasionally trying to create some tension. Like in a scene where the mob actually appears to burn someone alive. For the last act, a twist that makes someone else entirely the antagonist is introduced. Which is one of the film's smarter writing decisions, even if it has nowhere near the gravity to pull off a tonal shift like that.
Ultimately, a handful of features kept me watching “Mass Hysteria.” The cast is likable. Geena Santiago plays Paige and makes for a compelling protagonist. She has very nice comedic timing and, more importantly, projects the right mixture of attitude and vulnerability. You want to see her succeed. The cast is overall decent, save for a few overly broad turns here and there. The film does have some funny ideas too. A reoccurring joke about “witch tunnels” pays off nicely. So does the rival gang of historical re-enactors that weave in and out of the story from time to time. A moment where a female theater usher inexplicably starts lusting after a male usher made me laugh because of how random it was. “Mass Hysteria” made me chuckle more than enough to justify the four dollar rental price.
I could grouse about some other things. A number of shots involving a pick-up truck are badly framed. Even though themes of persecution and scapegoating clearly run through the story, none of them amount to much. “Mass Hysteria” also probably could have used its setting more. Despite taking place in Salem, many of the film's scenes are shot in indistinct forests. Halloween is part of the plot but I wish a little more seasonal atmosphere had been incorporate. Still, for a film that was clearly made for a small budget by a group of friends, I enjoyed this one. I hope the directors continue to get to make movies and focus more on creating their own style, instead of copying someone else's, next time. “Mass Hysteria” is still worth a watch. [6/10]
Halloween nights are frequently low-key for me, as I focus on watching movies and updating this here blog. This year, the festivities were especially relaxed. All September and October, I've been trying to just have a spooky fun time even though it feels like the world is melting down around me. It's been hard. However, I'm happy to say focusing on writing this reviews and working through my watchlist has helped keep me sane during this pandemic. It's okay if not a lot happens on Halloween, if there are no parties or trick-or-treators. The day isn't really about those things anyway.
No, Halloween is about ritual, tradition. About acknowledging the spirits. About keeping the morbid heart alive. The candles in the Jack-o-lanterns are just about ready to burn out. It's time to close the gates for another year. The ritual is complete. I have traveled the Autumn Country and am now on the other side. October is my home. I'm always sad to see it go, even if finishing the journey is a relief too. But I take Halloween with me too. The spooky season is always on the inside, always waiting to come out when the time is right. Good-bye, ghosts, goblins, vampires, werewolves. Good-bye and good night. Travel safely, skeletons. Be careful, zombies. I don't want anything to happen to you before the next time we can meet. Before the welcoming arms of Mother October open up again and take me home.
As I've pointed out in the past, horror movies actually set around the holiday of Halloween are not as common as you might think. Perhaps some filmmakers think the combination is too obvious. Perhaps they don't want to invite unflattering comparisons to John Carpenter. As someone who loves both horror and the October season, any time a move combines the two, it gets my attention. An eighties genre film set around Halloween that I've long heard about is 1988's “Lady in White.” After learning that the film was director Frank LaLoggia's follow-up to oddball flick “Fear No Evil,” this one was launched even further up my list. With October nearly over, now seems like the right time to give this one a try.
Successful horror writer Frank Scarlatti returns to his childhood home town. This awakens memories of events that happened two decades prior. After a pair of bullies locked ten year old Frankie in his school overnight, in the weeks before Halloween, he sees a ghostly girl re-enact her own murder. Afterwards, he's attacked by a strange man and nearly dies. The local authorities connect the crime to a string of child murders. A black janitor is arrested, despite a lack of evidence. Frankie continues to see the little ghost girl, who leads him to more clues about her own demise. Soon, he connects the girl's death to another local legend: That of the ghostly Lady in White that roams the cliffsides.
LaLoggia showed his own off-beat style in “Fear No Evil” but it's pretty clear who he's emulating in “Lady in White.” The story is awash with nostalgia for wholesome small town American life. The simple shops, sixties fashion, and boyish adventures are emphasized throughout the film's opening montage. The shots of boys riding their bikes around make the Spielbergian influence all the more obvious. The closeness Frankie feels with his family, as well as the warm glow of the film's Halloween and Christmas settings, similarly recall “E.T.” LaLoggia makes a passing attempt to acknowledge that his childhood life wasn't so perfect. The subplot about a black man persecuted by an unfair system, that continues to abuse him even after he's cleared of all charges, never really meshes with the rest of the story. Mostly, “Lady in White” idealizes the time and place it is set in.
If “Lady in White” sets out to heavily invoke anther filmmaker's style, LaLoggia at least makes sure the movie looks good while doing it. Russell Carpenter, who would go on to become James Cameron's cinematographer, creates a frequently gorgeous looking film. There's a lot of deep blues in the night time scenes, creating a fittingly spooky atmosphere. That autumnal warmth is pivotal to a few moments. Several scenes, in the forest or cliffside, even layer on some fog. As effective as “Lady in White's” nighttime scenery is, the film approaches its ghosts in the cheesiest way possible. Extremely unconvincing photography effects are used to make the actresses transparent. Moreover, an unsightly sappy streak emerges whenever the ghost girl pleas for help. The finale even features the Lady in White casting lightning bolts from her finger, a moment so overwrought it made me laugh out loud.
So the ghosts are more laughable than scary. Which almost works in “Lady in White's” favor, as the ghosts aren't who little Freddie should be afraid of anyway. “Lady in White” predominantly feels like a family movie. Yet the scenes focused on the child murderer have a deeply sinister power to them. The attack scene in the school is uncomfortable, because the young boy feels like he's really in danger. Later, the reveal of the killer is directly followed by an intense moment where Freddie locks himself in a car, while the man is outside. “Lady in White” never once dances around the dead kids at its story's center. Its child killer is a threatening presence, far scarier than anything else the movie has up its sleeve. The weird tonal clash – warm-and-fuzzy childhood adventure, intense horror movie thrills – is almost an effective metaphor for the death of innocence. Yet “Lady in White's” sappy streak keeps the two sides from blending. (Also, the identity of the killer is immediately obvious to everyone but the characters.)
It's fitting that adult Freddie is a horror author in the framing device. “Lady in White” definitely feels like one of those wannabe Stephen King novels that emerged in the wake of “IT's” literary success. That extends to the novel-like length too. The film runs around two hours in all its versions, with the most recent extended cut – which is different from the previously released director's cut, which is what I watched – actually stretching out to 127 minutes. I don't think adding more to “Lady in White” is the solution to fixing it though. The movie's issues lie in its indecisiveness, in its inability to decide whether it wants to be a nostalgic slice of Americana, a discussion of the woes of the sixties, a fluffy kids-on-bikes adventure, or a harsh thriller about dead kids. I do wish Frank LaLoggia got to make more movies though, as the dude clearly has some quirks of his own. [6/10]
It's time, once again, to marvel at the weird fucking career Bob Clark had. He's most famous film is “A Christmas Story,” a beloved seasonal classic for whatever reason. His previous hits, the first two “Porky's” movies, were far less wholesome. Late in his career, he directed utterly despised family comedy trash like two “Baby Geniuses” movies and “Karate Dog.” Before any of that shit, he made low-budget horror movies in Canada. “Black Christmas” is, of course, a classic and secretly one of the most influential horror films of the seventies. “Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things” has a cult following but is about as rough as a hippy-zombie-horror/comedy can get. The film that really established that Clark knew what he was doing was “Deathdream,” known in Canada as “Dead of Night.”
In the jungles of Vietnam, Andy Brooks is shot dead. Back home, his alcoholic father Charles begins to doubt his son will return but his mother, Cathy, harbors delusions he will. Even after being informed their child is dead, Andy does come home. He acts strangely, moody and prone to violent outbursts. When the dead body of a trucker, who picked up a hitchhiking soldier, is found, the authorities begin to suspect Andy. This confirms Charles' worst fear: That his son didn't come home. Instead, Andy has become a blood-sucking ghoul.
Some critics like the argue that almost every major horror film of the seventies is about Vietnam. Some of these interpretations are a stretch but “Deathdream” is explicitly about the war. Andy's parents are shaken by his personality change after returning home. He spends most of his time up in his room. Kids roughhousing with him triggers a violent episode, that concludes with Andy strangling the family dog to death. In our modern age, we recognize these as clear symptoms of PTSD. His father is himself a veteran but he's only frustrated and angered by his son's condition, a reflection of the older generations stubbornly refusing to accept the evolution of mental health. The only thing that calms Andy, that returns him to “normal,” are injections... Of blood, not heroin, but the parallels are clear. “Deathdream” is about boys coming home from Vietnam transformed and how unwilling the people at home were to accept that change.
Yet “Deathdream” isn't just about PTSD and how the Vietnam War broke a generation of young men. It's more keenly about the destruction of the American family unit. Andy's disappearance has already forced a wedge between Charles and his wife. In the first scene, she's almost delusional in her insistence that Andy will return home. As the boy shows his mental wounds, his father rejects him. His mother, meanwhile, protects him. Dad rages, stopping just short of calling his son a pussy, of accusing his wife of coddling him and not turning him into a “real” man. Even though dad's fear that something wrong with his son turns out to be well-founded, “Deathdream” still reveals the rotten heart of the nuclear family. Dad's masculinity is toxic, Mom is smothering, and it's left the son broken.
No matter how serious “Deathdream's” objectives may be, Bob Clark never lost sight of making a scary horror movie. From its opening scene – a dark and slow images of Andy dying overseas – an eerie feeling floats over “Deathdream.” The sound design often emphasizes this, as the sound of Andy's creaking rocking chair highlights many scenes. Clark's visual direction is sometimes tacky. There's crash zooms or odd swerves. Yet, during the best moments, Clark's direction creates a sense of frenzied tension. Such as Andy's attack on the family doctor or the climatic car chase. There's also some grisly special effects, as Andy begins to decompose if he goes too long without blood. His bulging eyes and peeling skin, provided by Tom Savini in one of his first credits, are certainly striking.
You can see Clark's future in comedy sometimes in “Deathdream.” The film's supporting cast is filled out with quirky characters. Like a stuttering dinner cook, a bartender who doesn't know what the word “nuptials” mean, and a deputy who can't stop adjusting the blinds. Yet most of the acting is deathly serious. Richard Backus comes off as somewhat flat in a few scenes, perhaps a fitting affectation for a shell-shocked young-man-turned-ghoul. However, Backus can still summon a disquieting quality in several scenes, such as when he confronts the doctor. John Marley and Lynn Carlin are both heartbreaking as the parents, both driven to the edge of emotional stability by their son's condition. You might excuse the performances of being overdone but I think hysterics such as these are probably perfectly understandable in this situation.
“Deathdream's” final images are ultimately more sad than scary. While a low budget horror movie couldn't possibly grapple with what the Vietnam War inflicted on America's servicemen, Clark successfully touches on the sense of loss families felt. Clark would next make “Black Christmas,” a scarier and more self-assured horror picture than this one. Yet even that classic doesn't have the strange, unnerving power “Deathdream” has. Fusing the still-fresh wounds of the war with the darkly lit story of a bloodsucking ghoul made for a compelling combination. By the way, I much prefer the American title of “Deathdream” to the Canadian “Dead of Night.” “Deadthdream” is far more evocative and even accurate, considering Andy's family might as well have dreamt this death. It's certainly far superior to the original generic title. [8/10]
“I Was a Teenage Werewolf” is regarded as something of a classic of fifties drive-in monster movies. (I reviewed it five years back.) Moreover, it was a huge money-maker for American International Pictures. The film was a hit largely because it mashed up a classic monster with a more modern setting. The idea of a follow-up, giving another horror icon a similar update, must have occurred to the producers immediately. Less than eight months after “Teenage Werewolf” came out, two follow-ups of sorts were playing drive-in double features. "Blood of Dracula" – which broke with the naming device but was essentially “I Was a Teenage Vampire” – and “I Was a Teenage Frankenstein” were out by November of 1957. While not as highly regarded as the werewolf original, “I Was a Teenage Frankenstein” seems to have a small cult following of its own.
Professor Frankenstein – who is indeed a descendant of that Frankenstein – has recently traveled to America. He makes important connections with two people. He proposes to Margaret, his secretary. Dr. Karlton, a physicist, becomes Frankenstein's somewhat unwilling assistant in his wild scheme to fuse dead body parts together and create new life. When a bus of teenage athletes crash, Frankenstein gathers the bodies and stitches them together into one cadaver. The monster is physically fit but hideously ugly. Moreover, he's lonely and every attempt he makes to escape Frankenstein's basement results in death. It's not long before the doctor is manipulating the naïve monster to do evil deeds.
You can tell that “I Was a Teenage Frankenstein” was rushed out to capitalize on the previous film's success. This one clearly misunderstands why “Teenage Werewolf” was so successful. That film worked because it focused on the teenagers. There's almost no young people in this movie at all, except for the monster and a few of his victims. The focus is entirely on Professor Frankenstein and associates. The lack of teenagers in the story also means the film lacks the original's teenage energy. “I Was a Teenage Frankenstein” is flatly told, most of the scenes taking place in a few gray, boxy rooms. The script is talky, focused on conversations between the professors and his partners. There's little of the teenage angst that distinguished “Teenage Werewolf.” It's a much more standard monster movie and a rather boring one at that.
As a horror movie, “I Was a Teenage Frankenstein” is largely campy. The Frankenstein Monster has a memorably absurd appearance. His body looks pretty normal, chiseled and muscular. It's his goofy exaggerated face, with its bulging eyeball and crooked chin, that is horrific. It also looks like a fancy Halloween mask, more comical than scary. The attack scenes are rushed and forgettable. The killing of the girl in the nightgown is so awkwardly filmed, I didn't even realized she was dead. The alligators munching on the dead bodies is an especially morbid touch and it's not too surprising that Professor Frankenstein ends up fed to them himself. About the only novel idea “Teenage Frankenstein” has occurs at the very end. When the monster is tossed into the electric equipment, the film goes from black-and-white to color. That's a cool visual punctuation point and admittedly caught me off-guard.
Unlike “I Was a Teenage Werewolf,” which is generally regarded as a decent movie, this one is only remembered for a few things. First off, that title is certainly as unforgettable as the other “Teenage” monster movie. Secondly, the Frankenstein make-up is so gruesomely goofy that you see merchandise of from time-to-time. Lastly, there's one really funny line of dialogue. “I know you have a civil tongue in your head because I sewed it back myself.” Monster kids and psychobillies will latch onto just about any campy drive-in creature feature, so I'm not too surprised this one has some fans, even with its lackluster quality. I, however, found little to love here. I wonder if “Blood of Dracula” is better? [5/10]
Throughout the Halloween season, horror streaming service Shudder has been premiering a number of new films and special event programming. Among the surprise announcement has been an animated special of their “Creepshow” series, as a special Halloween treat. “Creepshow Animated Special” is composed of two stories. “Survivor Type,” adapted from one of Stephen King's most notorious stories, concerns a scumbag doctor/drug dealer who washes up on an isolated island. With a broken ankle and nothing to keep him company besides seagulls and two pounds of heroin, he's soon forced to take gruesome measures to survive. “Twittering from the Circus of the Dead,” based on a Joe Hill story, is about a teenage girl tweeting during a long family car ride. Eventually, they stop off at a roadside attraction: A circus in which zombies are the star attraction. She soon discovers the horrors are far from staged.
“Creepshow Animated Special” was made essentially to fill the gap between seasons one and two of the show, due to COVID pausing production. One assumed the animation format was chosen as a homage to classic Halloween specials but this “Creepshow” episode is not “animated” like a traditional cartoon. It's more like a motion comic, with voice over narration and limited movement as the camera floats over quasi-stationary artwork. This is fitting, considering “Creepshow's” comic book roots. All things considered, it's done fairly well. “Survival Type's” gore is still cringe-inducing enough even in ink and pencil. The foot being chopped still made me cringe. The zombie carnage in “Circus of the Dead” is also pretty damn graphic. You assume that these two stories were chosen because they'd be too gruesome, or too expensive, to do in live action.
“Survivor Type” is a classic King story, one of his most sickening tales. This is a good representation of the text. Kiefer Sutherland voices our protagonist, an unscrupulous doctor willing to do anything to insure his future, and does a good job of balancing the character's positive and (mostly) negative qualities. The story already fits the E.C. Comics structure but this punishment is so macabre, so grisly that you honestly feel sorry for the guy anyway. The increasingly drug-addled mindset of the protagonist is convincingly conveyed here. King's sick joke conclusion is maintained, to great effect. I do wish the isolation of the island location was emphasized a little more.
I haven't read the Joe Hill story that inspired the second half, though this does seem in-line with the work of his I have read. Up-and-coming scream queen Joey King voices our snotty teenage narrator. Hill's voice work is strong and the script does a good job of making her seem like a smart-ass teenager without making her obnoxious. The animation format does create a chance to bring her mental hypothetical situations to life. Once the family arrives at the zombie circus, the segment doubles-down on gory horror at the cost of believably. I imagine the family would have left the big top long before the situation became as grave as it did. If Hill stretches this scenario pass its logical end point, the final segment – where the bloody tweets are re-purposed as advertising – is a smart variation on the typical “gotcha” ending. While obviously something of a compromise, “Creepshow Animated Special” is still an entertaining double-header from the still evolving television series. [7/10]
