Halloween 2021: October 28th

The Lair of the White Worm (1988)

Bram Stoker is a writer in an interesting position. He is both one of the most influential writers in genre history while also, paradoxically, being a literary one-hit wonder. “Dracula” informs practically every vampire story that came afterwards, not to mention greatly influencing the entire gothic style of horror. It's also really the only thing Stoker ever wrote that most people have read. Most everything else non-”Dracula” related he's done has slipped into total obscurity. Which brings us to “The Lair of the White Worm.” Probably Stoker's most blatant attempt to emulate his one big hit, the novel is regarded by some as one of the worst books ever written. Yet it still ranks among Stoker's better known, non-”Dracula” works. Probably because Ken Russell, cult movie extraordinaire, loosely adapted it to film in 1988. 

In the Derbyshire countryside, there's the legend of the d'Ampton Worm. That's an enormous, white snake that vexed the land centuries ago, which was sliced in half by John d'Ampton. His descendant, James d'Ampton, still lives on an extensive manor on the same land. At a party, he meets Angus Flint, an archaeologist that has uncovered a strange skull on the neighboring land. He's living with two sisters, Eve and Mary, whose parents mysteriously vanished. That's because Lady Sylvia Marsh, d'Ampton's neighbor, is an immortal vampire-like monster that is wrecking havoc on the countryside. She worships Dionin, the ancient snake god that inspired the legend of the White Worm. Sylvia is determined to fully resurrected her god, eyeing Eve as her virgin sacrifice. 

Ken Russell thoroughly puts his own stamp on “The Lair of the White Worm.” He turns Stoker's novel into a story of the conflict between Christianity and paganism. Upon seeing a crucifix early in the film, Sylvia spews snake venom on it. She considers Christianity a modern usurper to her far older, far more powerful religion. And that religion is explicitly sexual and untamed. The snake is a phallic symbol, something the film is all too aware of. Sylvia is a vivacious female predator, openly sexual and happy to seduce and pray on any man she chooses. This stands in contrast to the innocent, chaste Eve and Mary and all the ideas about femininity that Christiandom encourages. Considering the film clearly connects the Worm and Sylvia with the Romans who were in Derbyshire before Christianity, you get the distinct impression that Russell is rooting for the giant, phallic snake monster and its worshiper. 

The link goes back further than that. A scene where the pointedly named Eve encounters the snake-like Lady Sylvia in a tree, while she wears an apple red leather suit, situations the Christian/Pagan rivalry as one that goes back to the beginning of time. This is far from the only on-the-nose visual symbolism Russell includes in the film. The huge white horn Sylvia wields in several scenes is a phallic symbol too, which becomes very literal in the finale. (And further connects Sylvia with the hermaphroditic wyrm.) The movie is dotted with snake-like images, whether its a hose uncoiling or Sylvia slithering out of a basket, as she's summoned by a snake-charmer's music. This is most clear in a wild dream sequence James has, where watching a pair of comely stewardess in thigh-high garters wrestle makes his pen rise. Russell uses the psychedelic effects of the snake venom to include a couple far-out visions. Such as trippy images of Roman centurions raping nuns, before a crucifix squeezed by a snake, or a series of perversely dancing, blue-skinned snake cultists. 

If all of this sounds thoroughly ridiculous, it is. Russell's movie has its (forked) tongue deliberately in cheek. The performances are delightfully campy. Hugh Grant takes his stuffy, upper-crust act to amusingly goofy levels. This heightened atmosphere even allows him to look kind of cool, when swinging an oversized sword around and reprising the legend of his ancestor. Peter Capaldi, as the archaeologist, ramps his Scottish accent up to almost indecipherable levels. Amanda Donahue, as Lady Sylvia, is an absolutely delightful villainess. She oozes sexuality in every frame, never appearing to be anything but confident and in-control of every situation. When seducing and destroying a horny boy scout, or teasing the mesmerized Eve, she's absolutely captivating. She slithers and smirks through all her scenes, absolutely commanding the screen. 

“Lair of the White Worm” was met with mixed reviews upon release. Russell's blending of camp, far-out visuals, and sexy horror has always rubbed lots of people the wrong way. Even Hugh Grant seemed unsure how to approach the movie, noting after it came out that he wasn't sure if it was supposed to be funny or scary. Yet, for those of us who can vibe with these kind of theatrics, “Lair of the White Worm” is a delightful experience. It would naturally become a cult classic. Russell creates a wacky, smart, and thoroughly entertaining concoction here, as hip and lively as the folk-rock song that plays several times over. [7/10]

The Grapes of Death (1978)

It was in 2012 – was that really nine years ago? –  when Netflix added a bunch of Jean Rollin movies to their streaming service. (Which was still a free add-on to their by-mail disc service at the time.)  This was finally the excuse I needed to expose myself to the films of this weird French director I often heard people talking about. I was immediately enchanted by the surreal, campy, sleazy sights I beheld. I reviewed a bunch of them at the time... Though one Rollin classic has escaped my grasp up until now. “The Grapes of Death” has been weirdly hard for me to get a hold up in all this time. Now, thanks to Kino Cult, it is finally streaming around the Halloween holiday. Time to check this one off my list.

In the rural French village of Roublès, a new type of pesticide is sprayed on the grapes at the vineyard. The wine made from these grapes – which is enjoyed at the wine festival the following weekend – turns everyone who drinks it into sore-covered zombies who act violently. Unaware of this, Elisabeth heads to Roublès via train to visit her boyfriend, Michel. On the train, an infected attacks her and kills her friend. Elisabeth flees into the countryside. The closer she gets to Roublès, the more people she meets who are infected. Soon, the entire town is consumed by madness. Elisabeth makes some friends – a blind woman, two hunters – who are willing to help her, as she tries to survive and find Michel. 

Almost every movie Jean Rollin made was a variation on a theme. The majority of his films feature often naked female vampires, friendships between women that seem more than platonic, tragic lovers, and visits to a beach with a distinctive rotten pier. People in clown make-up, walks through cemeteries, and twins are common reoccurring images too. “The Grapes of Death” had Rollin stepping outside of his comfort zone and doing a zombie movie. Yet it's still a distinctly Rollin-esque take on the genre. These zombies have diseased flesh and act on homicidal instinct. They still kill in mobs and spread their infection with violence. Yet they are also prone to asking for the sweet release of death. A tragic monster demanding an end to their suffering is another theme Rollin would revisit again and again throughout his career.

You can certainly spot some of the other Rollin trademarks in “The Grapes of Death.” Elisabeth's bond with the blind girl is a little familiar. And there's definitely some gratuitous nudity. Brigite Lahaie stripping her clothes off to prove she's not infected was a moment I definitely predicted. Yet “The Grapes of Death” still feels like a departure for the director. The plot is as loose as it ever is but the film is mostly grounded in reality, only hinting at the dream-like atmosphere that characterizes most of Rollin's work. There's also only a small amount of the campiness that usually keeps the director's work from being unbearably pretentious. A woman speaking nonchalantly about her face being horribly burned, before blowing herself up, is about it as far as unintentional laughs go. 

With less of the lyricism, eroticism, and goofiness that we crave from Rollin, what does “The Grapes of Death” have to offer? Not much, I'm afraid to say. There's little of the gory thrills we associate with the zombie genre here. A scene where a infected villager nails a girl to a wall, followed by a graphic decapitation, is fairly grisly. I can't help but read into the two farmers that come to Elisabeth's aide being beer drinkers, which is how they've avoided being infected, as some sort of social commentary. Especially since they have at least one long conversation about politics and how big business screws over the common farmer. I'm not sure there's much working class solidarity to be found in this otherwise. Until the ending, which attempts to be emotional, “The Grapes of Death” feels shapeless. And not in a fun way. 

Part of why I wanted to see “The Grapes of Death” for so long is because it's often regarded as one of Rollin's best movies. I guess this would be a good introduction to the director's work, since it's a little more accessible than “Rape of the Vampire" and the like.  At times, when the helpful farmers are shooting zombies and setting off dynamite, this even feels like an attempt to emulate George Romero's Living Dead series. (Or it would anyway, if it wasn't made a year before “Dawn of the Dead” came out.) Yet I think I prefer the sleazy weirdness of Rollin's vampire flicks, the dream logic of “The Naked Vampire” and the pure eroticism of “Fascination,” over this. [5/10]

Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1989)

So when did Japan's reputation for producing egregiously wacky pop culture begin? Does it go back to Godzilla? Or “Speed Racer?” Obviously, plain ol' xenophobia plays a role in America's willingness to dismay an entire country's output as goofball insanity. At the same time, this reputation is not entirely undeserved. Those sixties kaiju movies are energetic and inventive in a way American films of the same breed and time simply were not. Similarly, Japan has produced some seriously bent cult classics over the decades, uniquely Japanese in their aesthetic and utterly bonkers in their content. Such as “Tetsuo: The Iron Man!” Arising out the Japanese cyberpunk/industrial/noise rock underground, “Tetsuo” would break out internationally in the early 1990s, quickly becoming a cult movie phenomenon worldwide.

A man known as the Metal Fetishist inserts rusty metal into his body. After one of his wounds become infested with maggots, he flees into the road. There, he is struck by a car, driven by an average Salaryman. The Salarayman's girlfriend is aroused by the crash, the two having sex near the Metal Fetishist's body. Afterwards, the man discovers a small metallic shard protruding from his face. This is the beginning of his transformation. Soon, the man is more scrap metal than human flesh, absorbing anything metallic he touches. The Metal Fetishist, still alive and similarly transformed, reappears. The two entities, each gifted with bizarre powers, wage war throughout Tokyo. 

“Tetsuo” is a cyberpunk classic but with the emphasis on the “punk.” A wild, untamed energy courses through the entire film. A pounding, propulsive industrial score powers the madness. Director Shinya Tsukamoto, who also plays the Metal Fetishist, provides an utterly unique visual sense. Tsukamoto utilizes his live actors in elaborate stop-motion sequences. On multiple occasions, the characters rocket down the streets in a jerky fashion, sometimes while propelled by actual rockets. This is inter-cut with lightning fast montages of the buildings around them. There are also manic, laughing faces and bursts of static-y television snow. The characters make machinery and metal twist, bend, and morph to the beat of the pounding, frantic soundtrack. The result is a movie with an incredible sense of energy and movement that feels simply like nothing else. (Not even “Eraserhead,” which is its most obvious predecessor.)

“Tetsuo” pairs its punk rock energy with a similarly unconventional approach to its narrative. The film is full of long digressions that have little to do with its story. Such as the Salaryman being chased through the subway station by a metal-infected woman. Sometimes, it seems the film takes place on multiple levels of reality. As the Metal Fetishist exists both in an alley way, where a stray derelict can attack him, as well as battling with the Salaryman across the slums of Tokyo. Yes, even “Testsuo's” plot construction is perverse... Which is fitting, as the movie is full of perverse sex and violence. The Salaryman has an erotic dream where his girlfriend becomes a demonic figure with a phallic, flexible metal tentacle growing from her crotch. Take a guess where the ends up going. But the Salaryman later pays her back, after he grows an enormous drill penis of his own. Bizarre desires, always involving twisted metal, is at the center of everything in “Tetsuo.”

What truly seals “Tetsuo's” punk rock ethos is not its shocking content or its propulsive energy. It's how homemade the movie feels. The special effects are cheap but inventive. The towering monstrosity of scrap metal seem to be made, I suspect, from a lot of aluminum foil. Most of the movie takes place in a handful of locations. The film was shot on grainy, black-and-white 16mm, which only adds to its underground feeling. Though clearly working with little money,  Tsukamoto create a number of truly unforgettable mutations. The Salaryman is covered with metal shards. In one memorable scene, an unlucky cat is absorbed into his growing mass. There's all sorts of intense body horror, as human limbs and skin are pierced and warped by the interceding bursts of scrap and steel. 

A movie as aggressively bizarre as “Tetsuo: The Iron Man” certainly invites multiple explanations. Considering the protagonist is identified as the Salaryman, that faceless peon of Japanese capitalism, makes one suspect “Tetsuo” is some metaphor for modern man's struggle with technology. Looking at it another way, when the Salaryman rejects the woman around him to eventually form a bizarre (and literal) union with the Metal Fetishist, maybe this is a movie about men rejecting the polite standards of society and embracing an alternative life style. Whatever the hell you think it is, “Tetsuo: The Iron Man” is absolutely enthralling cinema. Its insane visuals, sexual and violent and utterly creative, are still not quite like anything else I've ever seen.  Shinya Tsukamoto's utterly perverse embrace of kinky sex, industrial rock, and twisted metal created a heart-pounding cult experience that is impossible to resist. [9/10]

Elevated (1996)

Before kicking off this year's Blog-a-thon, I wrapped up a Director Report Card for Vincenzo Natali. Before making “Cube,” his debut film, Natali needed to convince backers that a movie set in one room could be compelling and cinematic. This was the purpose of “Elevated,” a horror short set almost entirely inside an elevator. Ellen and Ben ride an elevator inside an office building late at night. That's when Hank, a stranger covered in blood rushes inside. He insists the blood is not his own and that monsters have invaded the building. Ellen and Ben, naturally, don't believe him. A tense confrontation between the three, as they debate getting off the elevator and Hank tries to convince them it's not safe, ensues. 

There are pros and cons to “Elevated.” On the plus side, you can see Vincenzo Natali's strength as a filmmaker on display here. “Elevated” looks good for a nineteen minute short. The interior of the elevator never feels cramped or limiting. The camera moves freely inside, crash-zooming on the overhead escape hatch or spinning around the inhabitants. A center degree of tension is created by this scenario, as the viewer is left to wonder if Hank is crazy or if his story of monsters is true. (He says they look like a cross between “Alien” and “Pumpkinhead,” the kind of deliberate genre shout-out Natali would use more subtly in his future work.) The short also has a pretty good twist ending.

Yet “Elevated” doesn't work as well as “Cube” did for a big reason. No matter how much the prisoners in that film might've argued among themselves, you still liked them as characters. This is not true of “Elevated.” The cast members – which includes Natali regular David Hewlett, as Hank – spend most of the run time yelling and screaming at each other. The characters strike the viewers as largely unreasonable, as they begin to argue and threaten one another mere minutes after the tension rises. While Natali's later films used their limited locations smartly, “Elevated” feels like its run out of ideas after a striking scene where blood runs down the elevator's walls. Still, the director did accomplish some impressive tasks here, paving the way for his later, better work. [6/10]

Halloween 2021: October 27th

The Columnist (2019)

De Kutthoer

I'm old enough, and have wasted enough of my life online, to see internet trolling evolve in disturbing ways. In the early days of the internet, trolling was, at worst, an annoying asshole trying to get a rise out of you. Sometimes, elaborate acts of trolling even resulted in delightful pranks. Of course, now that our internet lives and meatspace are irrevocably linked, “trolling” has become a malicious force of evil. Targeted campaigns of harassment ruin lives. Directed waves of misinformation sway elections and public opinion. Hate speech and fascism have been allowed to spread under the guise of “jokes.” Honestly, the landscape is such that I'm surprised that it took so long for someone to make a horror movie about murdering internet trolls. Even more surprising, an American filmmaker didn't get the idea filmed first, as “The Columnist” hails from the Netherlands.

Femke Boot is a successful columnist for a popular Dutch news website. While she got her start with simple, slice-of-life stories, her writing has grown more political... Which has, increasingly, made Femke the target of online harassment. Threats of death and sexual violence are directed towards her a hundred times a day on Twitter. People attack her appearances, her family, and use nonstop sexist language. When Femke realizes that her obnoxious next-door-neighbor is one of her online trolls, she impulsively kills the man. This begins Femke's career as a serial killer, targeting the men who make her life miserable, killing them, and snapping a finger from their dead bodies. Inevitably, her daughter and new boyfriend have to realize what is happening.

In a time where we've all known someone who has been hassled by some asshole online, if not being the hassled individual ourselves, there is something certainly cathartic about “The Columnist.” The constant feeling of unease the harassment she faces online makes Femke feel is symbolized by her neighbor always sawing and hammering away at his projects. When she knocks him off the roof, her writer's block breaks and she feels relieved. Her next target happily admits to the horrible things he said and sees nothing wrong with spewing such hatred at a woman. When Femke cracks him over the head with a frying pan, it definitely feels purgative. And why exactly has Femke done to engender such enmity? She's written columns about soft boiled eggs, sandwiches, and how it's fucked-up that St. Nicolas has a sidekick in blackface. 

Of course, suggesting someone deserves to die for saying horrible shit online is perhaps a bit severe. Even after trolls begin to spread a fabricated story about Femke being a pedophile. The cops are useless, suggesting Femke should just stay offline. After a close call during one of her murderous outings, that's exactly what she does. She cuts off her Wi-Fi and trades her smartphone in for an older model. It makes her a lot happier. But the horrible toll the harassment took on her mental health is hard to ignore. Her trolls live “rent free in her head,” as it were. And yet an innocent is inevitably caught up in Femke's rampage of revenge. “The Columnist” is observant enough to address the hypocrisy in its protagonist being hated simply for the things she's said; and her gender; and murdering people simply for what they've said. This ambiguity is smartly baked into the movie's genes and the whole thing is stronger because of it.

“The Columnist” is well produced in just about every way. Director Ivo van Aart and cinematographer Martijn Cousijn created a good look film. They often dress Femke in all white, as she sees herself as the good guy, which is a color that looks great when splattered with blood. The various murderous montages are extremely well organized. The image of severed fingers pop up in several amusing, unexpected ways. Enough tension is orchestrated through the various chase and stalk scenes. The cast is also highly capable. Katja Herbers is excellent as Femke. Funny in a dark way, but brimming with righteous fury at other times, she strikes the exact perfect balance. Claire Porro is also well utilized as Anna, Femke's free speech activist daughter, and Bram van der Kelen is properly conflicted as Steve, the horror author that becomes her boyfriend.

I don't believe one has been announced yet but I'll be really surprised if “The Columnist” doesn't get an English language remake eventually. One that probably wouldn't be as subtle or evocative, as those are emotions we don't do as well here in America. But the film's themes and ideas are awfully relevant to our modern world, especially here in the States, so I'm fully expecting it to happen. I also suspect that such a film would trigger a bunch of ranting Youtube videos and half-intelligible articles from the exact people “The Columnist” is taken target at.  Until that time comes, “The Colmunist” is a funny and well made motion picture that nicely has its cake and eats it too. [7/10]

The Shout (1978)

I love finding new, weird horror movies I've never heard of before. In our modern age, with the internet always turning up some bizarre hidden gem from yesteryear, this is easy enough. It's the reason why my watch-list has grown to colossal size. A decade ago,, this was a bit trickier. That's why publications like Fangoria were important. For its 300th issue, Fango published a list of three hundred essential horror movies. That was a large enough number to provide quite a lot of depth. But a fairly well-read horror nerd like I was familiar with most of the titles on the list. I hadn't seen all of them but I at least had heard of them... Save for one. “The Shout” was described as a dream-like horror film about Aboriginal magic, with John Hurt and Tim Curry in the cast. Alright, consider my interest piqued. The film was hard to find for many but now it's on Shudder, so here we go.

A mysterious man explains his story to an orderly at a mental institute. He tells the story of Anthony, an experimental musician who plays in a church to pay the bills, and his wife, Rachel. A stranger named Crossley wanders out of the dunes and inserts himself into their lives. He claims to have lived with Australian Aboriginals and mastered their magic. He claims he can enchant women, replace kidneys with stones, and perform a shout that kills anyone who hears it. Anthony is intrigued at first, considering Crossley merely eccentric, but soon learns his horrifying powers are real. As Crossley begins to seduce Rachel, Anthony must fight to regain control of his life.

“The Shout” is a film innately concerned with the power of sound. John Hurt is described as a musician but he seems more like a foley artist or sound designing to me. He rolls marbles around on a dinner trey, a microphone right atop it. He tosses a film canister down onto the keys of a piano, puts a fly in a glass against the microphone, and makes weird breathing sounds on his own. All of this establishes, early on, a disturbing and disorientating soundscape that characterizes the rest of the film. Adding to this feeling is that, aside from the opening song from Tony Banks, there's very little music in the film. The sound design is especially unnerving when we hear the scream. The film goes completely silent before Crossley unleashes that thunderous shout, which is fittingly deafening. “The Shout” is a film that really has you paying attention to what you hear.

It's fitting that “The Shout” engineers such an unsettling, dream-like atmosphere. It's premise is very much like a nightmare as well. The idea of a complete stranger inviting himself into your home – the two meet on the street and Crossley just follows him back to his house – and taking it over feels very much like a bad dream. Crossley occupies a room in their home, enchants Rachel, and steals Anthony's dog from him. Even his bicycle seems to rebel against Anthony after Crossley puts his spell on the household. Director Jerzy Skolimowski, best known for his Polish art films, creates a number of bizarre images too. Like Rachel crawling around on all fours like an animal. Or Anthony suddenly fixating on shoe-making and digging up stones and smashing them. “The Shout's” narrative makes sense on the same level a dream – which the Aboriginals based their magic and religion around – does. 

Stabilizing this experience is a trio of fittingly intense performances. Alan Bates as Crossley immediately strikes the viewer as a weirdo. Without much prompting, he'll launch into an anecdote about how he murdered his children. This is early in his relationship with Anthony and Rachel. Bates' performance carries this kind of freaky, unnerving energy with him throughout the entire movie. He's an unforgettable villain. John Hurt has a laid-back and relatable vibe in the early scenes before increasingly going to nervous pieces as the situation gets worst. Susannah York has an interesting dynamic to play, as she's disgusted by Crossley at first before falling under his spell. She's especially effective in the later half, making obscene faces and acting totally convicted of this bizarre man's power. 

“The Shout” concludes with feelings of madness, returning to the insane asylum setting and ending on a switcharoo image that you need to think about for a minute to understand. It's a film that casts a strange, unsettling power. Which is exactly what I hoped for when I first read about it all those years ago. The only thing about “The Shout” that disappointed me is that Tim Curry's role is pretty small. He only appears at the very beginning and end of the film, in a very subdued part. If you have patience for that odd and slow-paced type of horror that popped up from other countries sometimes, definitely give this one a look. [7/10]

Contamination (1980)

I'm sure scholars of Italian film would much prefer the country's cinematic output be remembered for its contributions to Neorealism and much lauded art house directors like Fellini and Antonioni. Yet for genre fanboys of my age, we associate Italy with intensely gory and frequently sleazy exploitation flicks. In the early eighties, Italy would become especially notorious for its rip-offs of American films. “Dawn of the Dead” beget “Zombie.” “Star Wars” birthed “Starcrash.” And “Alien” led to “Contamination.” Luigi Cozzi, who previously made “Starcrash” and a bizarre re-edit of “Godzilla,” would write a script called “Alien Arrives on Earth” after seeing Ridley Scott's classic. The project would be retitled “Contamination” before being retitled again as “Alien Contamination” in some overseas markets. The film would gain further infamy when the U.K. deemed it obscene and made it into one of the notorious Video Nasties. 

A shipping boat, strangely empty of any occupants, drifts into the New York harbor. A team is sent in to investigate and they discover a hull full of round, green egg-like objects. When exposed to heat, the eggs bursts open and spray body-exploding acid everywhere. The sole survivor of the team, NYPD Lieutenant Aris, is recruited by a secret government sector to investigate further. Led by Colonel Stella Holmes, a connection is quickly established between the eggs and a secret mission to Mars. The astronauts supposedly discovered a cave full of similar eggs. One of them, Hamilton, died in a plane crash while the other, Hubbard, had a mental breakdown. But Hamilton is still alive and running an operation out of Brazil, where he plans to ship the acid-spewing eggs all over the world. Holmes, Hubbard, and Aris form a team to stop him before its too late.

“Contamination” may have been an attempt to ride “Alien's” coattails but it doesn't have much to do with that movie... Not its plot anyway. No, “Contamination” is obviously a rip-off of “Alien's” poster. This entire movie revolves around pulsating eggs that burst open but never features the alien lifeforms contained within. (Making you wonder why the movie insists on calling these polyps “eggs.”)  Okay, the cave sequence and the bodies bursting apart are also taken from “Alien” Yet that only represents one part of this rip-off's particular DNA. The title was originally ear-marked for a knock-off of “The China Syndrome” before being passed onto this project. That explains why the movie bends towards an earthbound conspiracy. The opening scene was obviously inspired by “Zombie.” Its globe-hopping plot and romantic heroes vaguely recall Bond. A scene devoted to Hamilton planting an egg outside of Holmes' shower even brings giallo to mind. “Contamination” is an oddball mish-mash of several different movies.

Of course, “Contamination” is nowhere near as good as any of the movies it is emulating. In fact, it's quite awkward at times. The movie's script relies heavily on exposition. The first half of the movie is largely devoted to its characters hanging out in a secret lab, discussing things happening off-screen that are not shown. Eventually, the focus turns to the incredibly dumb interaction between the three leads. There's an attempt at a love triangle. The alcoholic, depressed Hubbard literally smacks Holmes around at one point, which she seems to enjoy. Later, while tied up together, Aris and Holmes confess feelings to each other. It's all hilariously dumb but still not the most amusingly stilted scene in the film. That would be when an egg is placed inside Holmes's bathroom, a sequence that drags on for so long that any suspense is immediately drained out of it.

As hilariously goofy as “Contamination's” plot is, none of this is the reason people remember the movie. The gore effects brought it infamy. The scenes of people exploding from the inside out, fake blood and entrails flopping all over, are intense and suitably lurid. There's also a scene of a lab rat exploding, which is pretty funny. Those eggs are less convincing, looking more like over-sized avocados than alien lifeforms. The movie's plot grows more bizarre as it goes on, weaving in telekinesis, mind control, shoot-outs with minions in white hazmat suits, and global conspiracies. The most absurd reveal is that of the alien mastermind: a tentacled, giant cyclops in a dark basement. (That recalls the tunnels of “Alien's” Nostromo.) This final boss pushes “Contamination” to its slimiest, most ridiculous moments yet.

“Contamination” is not all squishy special effects and unintentional laughs. Parts of it are quite tedious, such as a lengthy sequence set in a coffee factory or devoted to Brazilian locals dancing. The movie's score is provided by three of the four members of Goblin. The music is largely derivative of their work on “Dawn of the Dead,” with some moments of blooping synth even being quite embarrassing. Yet the main theme is still a brooding, pulsating prog rocker. “Contamination” is equal parts boring, gross, and goofy. I could never call it a good movie yet there is something endearingly cheesy about this gore-soaked knock-off. The ridiculous parts will linger in the memory and the boring parts will fade, meaning I'll probably look back on it with fondness. [6/10]

The Last Prom (1980)

As part of last year's Halloween Blog-a-thon, I reviewed a couple British Public Information Films that crossed over into horror due to their gruesomeness. I found each one to be a bracing, impressive experience. So this year, I figured I'd try out an American educational film designed to scare the shit out of young people. “The Last Prom” follows a group of teenagers, each excited to participate in the final prom of their high school experiences. All through the party, they drink and celebrate. They leave early, in search of more exciting thrills elsewhere. The driver is drunk and crashes his van into a tree. All the teens die horribly. We witness the aftermath of the wreck and the pain that tears through the community, in the wake of their senseless deaths. 

Bleeding Skull recommended “The Last Prom,” saying it has a slasher-like ambiance. This is somewhat true... But not really a pro. “The Last Prom” reminds me of the tedious early parts of the really bottom-of-the-barrel eighties slashers, stuff like “Final Exam” or “Honeymoon Horror.” All the performances are extremely stiff and cartoonish, the characters coming off as total caricatures. There's no attempt to build any tension or dread from the teens' inevitable dates with destiny. Though made in 1980, the film has a maudlin, fifties-style atmosphere to it. It feels old-fashion in a way that's antiquated, not-charming. Only a goofy scene of the kids trying on their prom tuxes and dresses made me chuckle.

About the only way “The Last Prom” proves interesting at all is its matter-of-fact treatment of death and destruction. After the crash the entire short is building up towards, the film grimly watches as the dead bodies are emptied out of the car. The teens' faces resemble chopped-off ground beef now. The movie ends on the closed-casket funeral for one of the girls. It's not stark and disquieting on the level of “Apaches” or “The Finishing Line” but it proves far more interesting than the rest of the short. The film is partially presented as a newscast and told largely in flashback, furthering the feeling that it is a stiff and maudlin experience. While the British Public Information films I watched hoped to entertain and educate, education was clearly the only goal here. [5/10]

Halloween 2021: October 26th

The Boy Behind the Door (2021)

Horror, as a genre, is frequently about pushing boundaries. About confronting audiences with topics that make them uncomfortable, with invoking dread by addressing That Which We Do Not Speak Of. And yet, sometimes, some topics are so taboo and controversial that, well, a filmmaker has to be completely fucking clueless or have great big brass balls to make a movie about it. I'm of the opinion that no topic should be off-limits in art but some require extra sensitivity and care. These are the thoughts rattling around inside my head after watching "The Boy Behind the Door," a buzzy 2021 horror release about the topic of child sexual abuse. Obviously, this review comes with a big ol' trigger warning for that reason alone. 

Bobby and Kevin are both about ten years old. They're best friends who dream of running away to California together. While hanging out in a field one day, they are abducted by an unseen assailant. Bobby awakens in the trunk of a car, tied up. He discovers himself in a strange home where a man exchanges a large sum of money for some sort of service: Bobby realizes he is that service. That he's been abducted into a child sex trafficking operation. And that Kevin is chained up in the basement, waiting for the next pervert to come along. Bobby is determined to rescue his friend and get them both out alive. 

"The Boy Behind the Door" is the feature debut of David Charbonier and Justin Powell. The directing team clearly know how to create some striking images. The house is heavy with shadows. The image of a rickety oil pump outside the home, silhouetted against the evening sky, is an impressive reoccurring visual. While the first half of the movie is heavy on a shrieking sound deign and ominous noise, a grim tension escalates in the second half. Charbonier and Powell are good at generating prolonged suspense, putting their young heroes in tight situations that only get worse. More than once, the kids have to hide as someone approaches or are forced to reckon with someone trying to force their way into their hiding place. The directors are confident enough, and their film effective enough, that they even get away with visually quoting "The Shining."

And yet, all throughout "The Boy Behind the Door," I found myself wishing we knew more about these two boys. The film runs a lean eighty-eight minutes. It doesn't take long to get the grim stuff. A short prologue establishes the boys' friendship and their shared desire for escape before the horror begins. Both young actors, Lonnie Chavis as Bobby and Ezra Dewey as Kevin, are excellent. They give physical, committed performances that send them through the full emotional gauntlet. Yet we never learn anything else about these kids. Why do they want to run away to California? Are their home lives also abusive? Is their friendship, which seems very intense, developing into something more than platonic? Is that why they want to run away? They wear Little League uniforms but even that detail is kept vague. The movie still works. You still root for these kids to escape, because how could you not? When they finally turn the tables on their abductor, it's cathartic as hell. But I wish it took a little more time to get to know Bobby and Kevin before thrusting them into this nightmare. 

The real question floating around "The Boy Behind the Door" is: Is it good enough to justify tackling such a disturbing, real world topic? The script flips expectations in some ways but follows other clichés closely. The police are useless. The villain pursues the kids doggedly. The last act has the boys fleeing into the woods, feeling a lot like a slasher movie. There's an effective twist concerning the identity of the boys' abductor. But this flashy narrative misdirect really has no deeper meaning other than to catch the audience off-guard. The disturbing subject matter certainly makes the movie more intense. Yet you could've made the villains vampires or whatever and everything else about the film would've worked just as well. 

I suppose I'm still debating the merits of "The Boy Behind the Door." It's a really well made and effective horror thriller, with strong performances and promising stars. I still don't know if it was necessary to build a taunt genre exercise around such a triggering, disturbing topic. For what it's worth, the movie is just shy of exploitative but the threat of sexual violation hangs in the air the whole time. The film was impressive enough to get Charbonier and Powell's follow-up funded, which has already been finished and released. As for their debut, it's a film I can't deny the power of. It's going to stick with me for a while. But I'm still sorting out whether it was worth it or not. [7/10]

Laserblast (1978)

For me, now and forever, Charles Band will be the face of Full Moon, that studio that lined nineties video store shelves with low budget but charmingly comic book-like movies about killer puppets and time traveling super-cops. (And with the increasing diminished returns from that same brand name in the last twenty years.) Of course, Mr. Band's history in the film industry goes back way further than that. Movie-making is something like the family business for him, as his dad was a director. Full Moon, of course, arose out of the ashes of Empire Pictures, where Band produced classics like “Re-Animator” and “From Beyond.” Yet even before that, Charlie was making monster movies through his eponymous company, Charles Band Production. There he made flicks like “Tourist Trap,” “The Day Time Ended,” and “Laserblast,” the topic of today's review. 

Billy is a teenager, living in a small town in the middle of the Californian desert. His mom often leaves him alone, he's harassed by the local cops, and older boys bully and tease him. His girlfriend Cathy is the only person who seems to like him. While driving around the desert one day, he comes across an enormous laser cannon and a magical necklace. The combination of these objects turns Billy into a green-skinned ghoul, who uses the cannon's explosion power to get revenge on those who have wronged him. He is unaware of these changes but noticing the physical effects the device is having on his body. Little does he know, the aliens who invented this weapon are on their way back to Earth to reclaim it. 

If the above plot description didn't make it obvious, “Laserblast” is a very silly motion picture. The plot feels like it was made-up on the spot and features multiple unexplained leaps in logic. As far as cinematic monsters go, Billy is pretty silly. When transformed, he develops green skin on his face and only his face. (Which makes him look a little like Jim Carrey in “The Mask.”) He growls and grumbles incoherently while wandering around, swaying his hands. The cannon is obviously pretty heavy and causes him to lean to one side while walking. Eventually, the movie all but abandons plot, devolving into increasingly tedious scenes of Billy exploding a series of people and places. Such as a random pinball machine, a hippy in a van, and a “Star Wars” billboard. Which is one of two totally unearned jabs at the seventies sci-fi blockbuster that obviously inspired this one.

Despite its eventual descend into repetitive pyrotechnics, “Laserblast” is sort of fun for a half-hour or so. Before it becomes tiresome, the random inserts of Billy's growling monster face produce some unintentional chuckles. There's a similar kind of delirious goofiness to scenes of him blowing up a car at a drive-in movie theater. The real stars of “Laserblast” are the aliens who are attempting to track Billy down. Created by Dave Allen, about a decade after “Equinox,” they look like bipedal turtles without their shells. They move fluidly and expressively. They chatter in a high-pitched language that isn't quite recognizable as speech. It's honestly hilarious how many long scenes there are devoted to nothing but these goofy aliens quacking among themselves. There's also a hilarious scene, aboard their space ship, where what I presume is their boss tells them to get back to Earth and finish the job they totally half-assed. I'd watch a whole movie about these intergalactic goofballs.

While “Laserblast” presumably wanted to shock or excite viewers with gruesome horror thrills and sci-fi spectacle, it's actually way more interesting as a low-key comedy about the weird people who live in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Billy, played listlessly by stage actor Kim Milford, is one of these weirdos himself. He drives around in a van with big footprints on the side and seemingly doesn't own a shirt that buttons all the way. His girlfriend – a completely blank character – lives with her ranting, conspiracy theorist grandfather. One of the bullies includes Eddie Deezen. This was Deezan's first movie but his nasally nerd routine was already established. His highlight is when he repeatedly talks about lightning blowing up a car. Even the cops are oddballs, as the skinny one smokes pot and the fat one always disparages his friend before trying whatever it is he's doing as well. The only normal characters in the film are the special guest victims: That's Roddy McDowell, as the doctor who removes the metallic tumor from Billy's chest, and Keenan Wynn, as the FBI agent tracking the aliens for vaguely defined reasons.

Most of Charles Band's movies were designed as titles and posters first. This tactic – and probably including about thirty different explosions – must have worked for Band. “Laserblast” would become something of a minor cult classic, largely because it's such a goofy mess. It's been re-released on DVD multiple times. Band's company would produce a toy of the aliens recently and he would recycle footage from it for multiple compilations. (Mostly of the aliens.)  An unmade sequel was even announced at one point. By far the greatest honor the film received was being the movie chosen for the last episode of “Mystery Science Theater 3000's” original run. It's not a movie I can love all the way through, as its goofy charm runs out long before it ends, but I'm glad I finally sat down and watched it. [6/10]

Evilspeak (1981)

Let us consider the career of Clint Howard. Brother to the far more famous Ron and son of work-a-day actor Rance, Clint has been working consistently since he was a kid. As a child actor, he starred in “Gentle Ben,” had famous parts on “The Andy Griffth Show” and “Star Trek,” and contributed voice work to several Disney cartoons. As he aged into an adult, his distinctive physical features would get him parts in weirdo comedies and horror movies. No matter how small the part, Howard's off-beat energy always makes them memorable. Roles in trashy flicks like “Leprechaun 2,” “Ticks,” the films of Uwe Boll, and especially “The Ice Cream Man” would win Howard a cult following among horror nerds. Clint's first horror role, and one of his few leading parts, is “Evilspeak.” Which has acquired a certain notorious reputation of its own.

Orphan Stanley Coopersmith is attending a prestigious military academy in California. He has few friends. Forced to play on the school soccer team, he does poorly and secures the wrath of the school bullies. One day, Coopersmith stumbles upon a hidden room under the school's chapel. Instead, he finds the books of Lorenzo Esteban, a Satanic priest that was executed in the 16th century. Using his Apple II computer to translates the books from Latin to English, Coopersmith unknowingly summons the demonic spirit of Esteban. As his torment grows more severe, Coopersmith will use the power of the devil to have his revenge on those who have wronged him. 

“Evilspeak” draws pretty blatantly on “Carrie.” This even includes beginning the film with the characters in gym class, the protagonist being mocked during the game, and being bullied more afterwards in the shower. Yet the film endeavors to make Coopersmith – get used to that name, as you hear it roughly two hundred times in this movie – the most abused loser in any horror movie. The bullies torment him endlessly. Teachers belittle him and he's caned by the principal. When he attempts to compliment a girl, he is humiliated more. The last straw is when the puppy he's adopted is killed. By the time his righteous demonic rage is enacted, you are entirely on Coopersmith's side. Someone who has suffered as much as him, at the hands of so many assholes, deserves some revenge. 

In fact, it's surprising that “Evilspeak” seemingly comes down on the pro-Satan side of the equation. Otherwise, the movie is straight example of your typical eighties Satanic Panic. Coopersmith is a nerdy kid hanging out in gothic basements, reading from arcane text and trying to summon the devil. Classical Christian fear mongering like this combines with a fear of new technology. Coopersmith uses his computer to summon the demonic spirits, images of evil faces, twirling pentagrams, and hellfire being rendered via the Apple II's primitive graphics. This is right around the time computers started to become common presences in homes and schools, making the anxieties “Evilspeak” speaks to very much of its time and place. 

Yet its memorably pathetic main character and invoking of then-relevant fears is not why people remember “Evilspeak.” No, the movie owes its infamy to its gory mayhem. For whatever reason, Lorenzo Esteban's branch of Satanism uses a lot of pig imagery. Coopersmith briefly grows a hog-like face as he becomes possessed. A horde of angry boars are loosed in the chapel at the end, chomping down on quite a few errant bullies. The movie's most notorious moments involves those same pigs munching on a naked woman in the shower. “Evilspeak's” unforgettable climax involves Clint Howard, suspended on visible wires, floating around and slicing people's heads off with swords. The movie ends in the church being consumed in a plume of hellfire, Freddy the puppy avenged. It's inventively gory, highly campy stuff, executed with frenzied style by director Eric Weston.

“Evilspeak” also has a crawling fetus in a jar, a spring-loaded rat, and Clint's devil-summoning teen saying mild swears like “Shucks!” Howard is certainly convincing as a tormented outcast with an off-beat view of the world. (Though not so much as a teenager, considering he was already balding by this point and wearing a non-convincing rug.) “Evilspeak's” gore is severe enough to have earned it a spot on the U.K.'s Video Nasties list, no doubt increasing its notoriety. Yet it's hard to imagine anyone being offended by a movie this goofy. Its unforgettably strange looking star and creative demonic havoc makes “Evilspeak” an enjoyable time for horror fans with a taste for blood-soaked revenge stories like this. [7/10]

The Music of Erich Zann (1980)

Considering the main body of his work is short stories, it's surprising there aren't more well-known shorts based on Lovecraft. Most of the famous adaptations are feature length. Yet a few notable examples have emerged. Such as John Strysik's 1980 adaptation of “The Music of Erich Zann.” Strysik's makes Lovecraft's unnamed protagonist Charles Dexter Ward but otherwise follows the story closely: A physics student in Paris rents a room in a secluded apartment. At night, he hears his upstairs neighbor – the titular Erich Zann – playing his viol. He asks the mute old man to play the haunting melodies from the night before but Erich refuses. The student is also compelled by the window, covered by a large curtain, in Zann's room. One fateful night, he discovers what purpose Zann's music serves and what is hidden behind that window. 

Strysik's film is about as scholarly and respectful an adaptation of Lovecraft's work as you could expect from a low budget production. The period costumes and sets are well assembled. The photography is nicely done. The interiors are largely lit by candlelight, which gives the film a certain old-fashioned, spooky atmosphere. This creates a wall of shadows all around the actors, further suggesting a feeling that something ominous is just off-screen. The performances are a bit stiff, which is almost a given when flesh-and-blood people have to speak Howard Philip's famously stilted dialogue. The best performer in the film is Robert Alexander in the title role, who only has to express horror and fear with his weathered face. The music, obviously a pretty important part of the story, is also effectively used. 

The element of this short film that tends to divide people is how Strysik chose to visualize the cosmic horror at the center of so many of Lovecraft's stories. Upon throwing open the curtain, Ward is confront with a kaleidoscopic effect of swirling colors and unknown images. Considering the obvious low budget the crew had to work with, I think the filmmakers did a pretty good job. The psychedelic blending of eyes, faces, and colors even match the old-fashioned approach to most of the story. (I question the insertion of a shadowy, nude woman dancing, unless that was a nod at Lovecraft's infamous fear of sexuality.) Though it's hard to imagine sights like that driving anyone to madness. The use of Lovecraft's writing in the narration is largely unnecessary and contributes to the slightly stodgy feel this short has. But it's a good effort and one I can. appreciate. By the way, Strysik would go on to collaborate with Stuart Gordon... But not on one of his Lovecraft movies. Instead, he wrote the script for “Stuck.” [7/10]

Halloween 2021: October 25th

V/H/S/94 (2021)

It's hard to believe its been seven years since the “V/H/S' series burned itself out. The first two films in the found footage anthology trilogy helped directors like Adam Wingard, Simon Barrett, Ti West, David Bruckner, Radio Silence, and Timo Tjahjanto ascend further up the horror A-list. Why not everyone agrees on the quality of those movies, the consensus is that both of them contain at least one fantastic segment. “V/H/S: Viral,” meanwhile, was bad enough to totally derail the franchise's momentum. Yet it's rare that a profitable horror series stays inactive forever.  “V/H/S/94” reboots the sex-and-violence spectacle by doubling-down on the retro aesthetic the first two played with. And, seemingly to insure the quality is closer in line to “V/H/S” and “V/H/S/2” than “Viral,” Tjahjanto and Barrett returned to direct segments. (With Bruckner and Radio Silence producing.) 

The framing device concerns a SWAT team, in 1994, storming into a warehouse owned by a suicide cult. Alongside the dead bodies, they uncover disturbing video tapes. “Sewer Drain” follows a small town reporter and her cameraman, as they investigate reports of a cryptid known as the Ratman. Descending into the sewer, they discover more than they bargained for. In “The Empty Wake,” a young employee at a funeral home is asked to video tape the wake of a man who died in a terrible accident. As a storm blows in, she notices something disturbing happening in the casket. “The Subject” is about a mad scientist stitching together grotesque cyborgs. When the cops bust in, the creations must defend themselves. Lastly, “Terror” sees a far-right militia group capturing a mythological monster. They hope to use it to further their causes but the beast is not easily controlled. 

“V/H/S/94” uses its shot-on-video gimmick nicely to create a disturbing sense of immediacy. This is especially evident in “Storm Drain.” Directed by Chloe Okuna – an up-and-comer who has only handled shorts before this – it gets increasingly creepier as it goes on. The segment escalates from showing us weirdos in the small town, to strange sights in the sewer drains, to a disturbingly filthy homeless man. The story takes a surprising turn in its second half. When the cryptid crawls on-screen, it's brought to life with some creative creature effects. There's also a strain of weirdo humor and social commentary here. The interview subjects are amusingly awkward. The climax combines sick gore and surreal dialogue to great effect. Meanwhile, the reporter protagonist is only concerned with helping the local homeless population if it'll help further her career. Which is a bleak but not unfair assessment of the news landscape. If nothing else, this segment will have you incorporating “Hail Raatma” into your lexicon of pop culture phrases. 

“The Empty Wake” sees Simon Barrett returning to the series he created, following his solo debut “Séance.” It's the segment that reminds me the most of the first “V/H/S,” in that it has an extremely simple narrative. This one is really just a girl alone in a room with a dead body. It is mostly interested in exploiting the found footage style for atmosphere. The occasional freaky noise is enough to put you ill-at-ease. You also find yourself rooting for the protagonist, a bored teenage girl trying to pass the time and keep her job. The conclusion to the segment features some creative and very creepy gore effects. A novel spin is put on the premise of a walking corpse, to squirm-inducing effect.

Timo Tjahjanto's “The Subject” is the Indonesian director's homage to Frankenstein. It features a mad doctor, who rants about how the world will appreciate his genius soon enough, and assembles grotesque monsters from dead bodies. The difference is these cyborgs have weapons, massive swords and machine guns, built into their arms. The creature designs are creative. Literally telling the story from the monsters' perspective, forcing the audience to sympathize with the hideous techno-corpses, is a nice touch. Once the monsters start to defend themselves, the story pivots towards elaborate action sequences. As you'd expect from the director of “The Night Comes for Us.”  Yet I found myself a little let down by this one. There's a lot of lousy CGI gore and muzzle flash in the second half. It's the longest segment in the movie and definitely feels drawn out at times, especially in regards to the muddled ending. 

“Terror” was handled by Ryan Prows, previously of “Lowlife.” This is the segment with the most humor in it. The militia is staggeringly incompetent, constantly undermining their own attempts at being taken seriously. It's not surprising when they do more harm to themselves than anyone else with their heavy artillery at the end... But it is pretty funny. Prows also highlights how hyper-masculinity like this also, often, barely disguises homoerotic tendencies. The cameraman seems fixated on men peeing and kissing. Once the monster – I won't spoil exactly what it is – gets loose, we are greeted to a cleverly horrific reinvention of a classic character. My only real criticism of this one is that its sequences of splattering violence are repetitive, at least until you figure out what their purpose in the story is.

As is practically a tradition with this series, the framing device is the weakest element of “V/H/S/94.” The non-stop profanity is exhausting and the ending – which I think is suppose to provide an origin story of sorts for the entire series – is underwhelming. Best I can say about the framing device is that director Jennifer “Knives and Skin” Reeder makes it feel like a Halloween fun house at times, with the cops coming across different rooms full of weird displays. While not as scary or fresh as the firs two entries, “V/H/S/94” is definitely a return to form after the weak “Viral.” It's funny, macabre, and grotesque in equal measure. If the series continues, I hope they stick with the gimmick of making this VHS tapes themed series actually look like it was shot on VHS tapes. [7/10]

The Missing Guest (1938)

Early in the lifespan of the Halloween Blog-a-thon, I reviewed as many of the classic Universal Studios monster movies as I could get my hands on. I've tried to carry on this tradition by including at least one vintage horror flick from Universal in each year's marathon. Yet, since I've already reviewed all the well known and easily accessible examples, I've been forced to seek out increasingly more obscure Universal films. Which brings us to “The Missing Guest” from 1938. This hard-to-find movie is most notably for being a remake of “Secret of the Blue Room,” an obscure old dark house flick Universal made only five years earlier. (Which was itself a remake of a German film.) I thought that one was alright, so it stands to reason this one will be decent too, right?

The Baldrich mansion is home to the Blue Room, a supposedly haunted room that has been sealed off after a mysterious murder occurred there twenty years ago. Reporter "Scoop" Hanlon is tasked with staying a night in the cursed room. He arrives at the mansion to find an elaborate costume party. There he meets Stephanie, the daughter of the mansion's current owner. Her attempted beau Larry decides to brave the Blue Room. When Larry mysteriously vanishes the next morning, Scoop is suspected of the crime. More murder and mystery ensues as everyone attempts to unravel the enigma of the Blue Room.

Universal's first “Blue Room” mystery was directed by Kurt Neumann, who went on to make genre classics like “The Fly” and “Kronos.” “The Missing Guest,” meanwhile, was directed by John Rawlins. Rawlins spent most of his career directing unambitious crime thrillers and serials. (“Dick Tracy vs. Gruesome” qualities as his most notable credit.) Rawlins was clearly not the director Neumann was. “The Missing Guest” lacks much of the expressionistic style that made “Secret of the Blue Room” mildly interesting. It's not an especially compelling mystery either. The film wastes time on minor plot points. Like Scoop pretending to be a psychic researcher, under convoluted circumstances. Or Stephanie's dad being implemented in the murder. Revelations, like a phonograph hidden in the Blue Room, make no impact. The final resolution to the mystery is as underwhelming as can be. 

However, the movie still has the occasional moment of notable classic horror atmosphere. There's a great scene early on, where the camera assumes the perspective of a guest arriving at the mansion. We see the door open and the maid scream. More people are shocked into silence as this unseen figure walks back. Soon, this intruder is revealed to be a ghostly spectre who then exposes a grotesque face. It's all a practical joke, we immediately find out, but it's still the highlight of the movie. There's also some notable use of shadows, cobwebs, and a spooky basement in the last act. The isolated mansion setting paired with a dark and stormy night -- heavy shades of "The Cat and the Canary" there -- provides some nice, spooky vibes. But the movie never comes remotely close to topping that P.O.V. sequence. 

In fact, far too much of "The Missing Guest" is devoted to pedestrian comic relief. At the beginning of the film, we learn Scoop is stuck writing for the women's section of the paper, which he finds humiliating. His editor is trying to invest in a profitable new invention, which leads to multiple appearances from a wacky scientist with goofy gimmicks. In the second half of the film, a pair of buffoonish detectives wander into the story. These two destroy every scene they are in with excessive mugging and antics. And they are in a lot of scenes. All of this is in addition to Scoop's own fast-paced dialogue and the goofy costumes at the party. (A doctor is the backend of a horse costume, for one example.) the constant, ill-advised attempts at humor overrides any spooky atmosphere the film manages to achieve. 

All the stuff involving the reporter and the detectives are new but, from what I recall, this hews fairly closely to the 1933 version. Universal would retell this story again only six years later, this time as a musical/comedy called "Murder in the Blue Room." I guess I have to watch that one next year. (All of these movies are in black-and-white, by the way, so use your imagination to add the blue.) To sum it up, "The Missing Guest" is totally typical of the underachieving old dark house mysteries Universal, and other studios, pumped out by the dozens in the thirties and forties. It's got one stand-out scene, which is enough to satisfy my desire for some old black-and-white atmosphere, but it has little else of interest to offer. At least it's less tedious than "Secret of the Chateau." [5/10]

50 States of Fright: The Golden Arm

Who mourns for Quibi? Jeffrey Katzenberg's extremely dumb idea for a streaming service provided subscribers with “quick bites” of big budget, high quality entertainment. So they have something to watch on their phones while waiting in line at the D.M.V. or, I don't know, sitting on the toilet or whatever. Quibi had the bad luck to launch during a year when nobody had much cause to leave their houses. Yet even in a non-pandemic landscape, I can't imagine a venture like this being that successful. A number of big name talents were attracted to the service. At least one of the shows struck me as kind of interesting. That would be “50 States of Fright,” an anthology series linked by the idea of drawing stories from the folklore and history of every American state.

“50 States of Fright” was produced by Sam Raimi. He would direct the first episode as well. “The Golden Arm,” naturally, is set in Raimi's home state of Michigan. It concerns Dave, a humble lumberjack. His wife, Heather, has expensive taste and demands the best things in life. One fateful day, he asks her to help him chop down a tree. This is when an accident occurs, that results in her arm pinned under a fallen tree. Dave is forced to chop it off to save her. Afterwards, her vanity causes her to reject having a stump for one arm. Dave decides to build a prosthetic for her and Heather demands it be built from gold. The gold poisons her blood and leads to a quick death. When Dave goes to retrieve the arm he made, it has unforeseen consequences for him. 

“The Golden Arm” has a pretty silly premise and requires its characters to act unreasonably multiple times. Heather is dressed up for a social event when Dave asks her to help him chop down a tree. Even though neither of them could've foreseen the accident that took her arm, it's still an unlikely chain of events. His decision to retrieve the arm from her grave is never explained. The character just suddenly has a frenzied desire to retrieve this solid gold appendage he made. Not to mention the wife comes off like a real caricature, demanding gold and jewelry from her working-class husband. Also, can people even be poisoned by gold? I don't know if that's a real thing.

Despite a story that can charitably be called dumb, “The Golden Arm” isn't totally disposable. Sam Raimi doesn't let the “made for cellphones” format leash his distinctive style any. Heather's arm being cleaved off leads to an “Evil Dead” style spray of blood covering the screen. As Dave hears creepy sounds in the empty house, the camera crash-zooms on various objects. There's some swirling perspective shots, especially when the vengeful ghost of the wife leaps out of a door. An especially clever bit has a photograph changing, from nostalgic to ominous, every time the husband looks at it. And the gore is nicely brutal too. “The Golden Arm” is cut into three parts – the first and last six minutes, the middle ten – which makes it easy to watch this as a half-hour of television, now that Roku has rescued Quibi's doomed programming. I don't know if the rest of the episodes will have much impact without Raimi's skills behind the camera but I'm sort of interested in trying them out. [6/10] 

It Took Guts (1979)

Screaming Mad George is one of those names you forever associate with the really outrageous horror movies of the eighties. This is the guy who made the famous shunting of “Society” possible. Yet before he became an in-demand special effects artist, George – real name Jôji Tani – was a singer in the New York hardcore punk scene. His band, The Mad, became infamous for incorporating bloody special effects into their shows. They would also play demented 8mm movies George and his friends made behind them on-stage, to further enhance the ambiance. Among these films was “It Took Guts,” a near plotless seven minute experience that concerns a teenager who gets a taste of his own blood... And then decides he wants some more.

Screaming Mad George is only officially credited with the music for “It Took Guts,” a churning and discordant rock score that gets more frantic as it goes on. But I imagine he had some input in the short film's content as well. The effects aren't nearly as crude as I expected. Yeah, the blood is a little washed-out and watery. A fake eyeball that features prominently doesn't look too convincing. And the ream of titular guts that spill out on-screen, and are quickly consumed afterwards, look like they might be made from ground hamburger. Yet it's all way better done then you'd expect from a bunch of kids screwing around on-camera. The scene of the boy slicing his own belly open is surprisingly convincing. 

Now the question remains, does seven minutes of a kid graphically eating himself have much artistic value? There is certainly something disturbing about the pure exuberance the main character displays when consuming his own flesh. He really goes for it, pushing his own guts into his mouth with absolute glee. Directors Eric Forsberg and Charles Schneider – the latter of which also plays the main character – emphasize the disgusting content of this story. An eyeball is squish and intestines are tossed around. The score is often farcical, with goofy sound effects mixed in with the music. This was obviously an act of prank-ish, juvenile gross-out humor. Yet it's impressive in its own sick sort of way. And that's pretty punk rock when you think about it. [6/10]