Halloween 2022: September 26th

The Roost (2005)

Ti West's origins as a filmmaker are unassuming. Wikipedia tells me that he grew up in Delaware, went to the School for Visual Arts, and randomly appeared in an issue of Teen People in 2001. He made two shorts in film school, neither of which seemed to attract much attention. It was his friendship with Larry Fessenden that gave the young director his chance to make a feature. How many promising young filmmakers got their start because they ran into Larry Fessenden at a party? (West is also buddies with Lena Dunham, so he probably has rich people New York art scene connections but I don't want to think about that.) That feature would be "The Roost" and it made a minor stir in the indie horror scene in 2005. 

"The Roost's" story is simple as can be. On Halloween night, a group of four college-age people travel to a mutual friend's wedding. While traversing a dark road, something strikes their windshield and forces them into a ditch. Looking for help, they approach the near-by home of an elderly couple, who disappeared under mysterious circumstances earlier in the night. Taking shelter in the barn on the property, the group soon uncovers a horrifying secret: The barn is inhabited by vicious bats, whose fatal bites resurrects their victims as blood-thirsty ghouls. 

West's early work is notable for not being especially narrative driven. Instead, his films focus more on sticking characters in a distinctive setting and letting tension slowly build until shit hits the fan in the last act. "The Roost" shows that this style was apparent right from the beginning. The weaknesses of this approach are already obvious: "The Roost's" characters are indistinct and often interchangeable. The performances seem partially improvised and none of the cast members are that memorable. The biggest criticism that can be leveled against this style – which would eventually receive the unfortunate nickname of "mumblegore" – is that it leads to stories where not a lot happens. About 40% of "The Roost" is devoted to vaguely-defined characters hanging out in or wondering around dark, uninhabited locations. 

Yet something separates West's approach from tedious B-movies like "Land of the Minotaur." It's what the zoomers call "the vibes." "The Roost" was shot on film, which lends the movie a gorgeously grainy appearance. Cinematographer Eric Robbins centers each shot in a precise manner, defining a sense of isolation and discomfort early on. The sparse sound design helps recreate the feeling of being stranded out in the country on a lonely night. This, when combined with the occasionally creepy musical score, sets the viewer for some grade-A scares. The appearance of ravenous zombies is totally unexpected and catches the audience off-guard. The reappearance of the elderly couple, whose absence throughout the story makes us curious what role they'll play, is a tightly executed sequence. West is so confident in his ability to engineer a good thrill that he even fucks around, showing a fake-out jump-scare from the inside out. The audience is aware of what's coming but it still gets a jump out of us. 

"The Roost" stripes its premise down so much that no explanation is provided for where the vicious bats come from or why they spread a vampiric condition. That's not the only sign West was more accustomed to making shorts. “The Roost” is extended to a thin, eighty run time with a clever framing device. Tom Noonan appears as a horror host in wrap-around segments, presenting the movie from the confines of a black-and-white haunted host decorated with cardboard tombstones. This matches “The Roost's” retro aesthetic, making it seem more like a public domain thriller from the late seventies. West takes this device even further. There's a spooky radio drama heard in the background, all throughout the film, adding to this Halloween atmosphere. The film randomly flashes into black-and-white. Eventually, Noonan expresses disappointment with the story's ending, rewinding things so a more exciting climax can play out. In its final moments, the audience even becomes a character within the film, some found footage style thrills capping the movie off before the end credits roll. 

“The Roost” attempting to recreate a throwback style predicts the grindhouse revival that would kick off a few years after this one. Yet it lacks much of the irony that would sometimes make those movies too smug, for an overall more enjoyable experience. The only sign that the movie is a 2000s production, aside from the modern clothes, are those CGI bats. West was smart enough to cloak those in shadows and use them sparingly, so the effect is almost seamless. “The Roost” didn't break out of the indie horror bubble but did win strong notices from the Fangoria crowd. Going back and watching now, it's fascinating to see that most of West's stylistic instincts were intact from the beginning. Even earlier on, he knew how to employ his particular style to create some chills, even if his debut is simplistic in many other ways. [7/10]

The Ghost (1963)

A few days ago, I was talking about how Christopher Lee would often take easy paychecks by lending his star power to low-budget horror movies made across Europe. While this was basically a side-gig for Lee, in-between his famous franchise films and iconic roles, some stars essentially made their entire careers out of this path. None more so than Barbara Steele. The British born model and actress would see her career totally redirected after appearing in Bava's beloved “Black Sunday.” The string of gothic thrillers she made afterwards are all fairly derivative of each other, which did nothing to stop Steele's cult following from blossoming. Which brings me to “The Ghost,” a pretty typical example. 

John Hichcock is a wealthy doctor living in the Irish countryside in the early 1900s. His ailing health has confined him to a wheelchair and caused him to pursue spiritualism as a hobby. His doctor, Livingstone, has been injected him with different types of poisons in a last ditch effort ot save the man. Livingstone is also carrying on an affair with Margaret, Hichcock's considerably younger wife. Bored of being his caretaker, Margaret plots with Livingstone to kill her husband. After successfully poisoning him, the two discover that the doctor's vault can only be opened with a key buried with him. This proceeds a series of supernatural events, Margaret becoming convinced her late husband's ghost is haunting her.

“The Ghost” is actually the second movie director Riccardo Freda – credited in the U.S. dub as “Robert Hampton” – made with Steele in 1963. Aside from the name of her ill-fated husband, “The Ghost” has something else in common with “The Horrible Dr. Hichcock” too. This is another movie where Steele is caught in a clear gaslighting plot. Unlike the collaboration between the star and director, the details of the manipulation are a lot more straight-forward this time. You have a clear idea of where the story is going and there's none of the earlier film's surprise depravity. “The Ghost” also takes a lot longer to get to the spooky stuff. There's a solid half-hour before Steele and her guy off the husband and the supernatural vengeance begins, with lots of red herrings and laborious set-up along the way. 

Not that plot is ever a high priority in Italian horror, least of all in Barbara Steele movies. The area these films excel at is the atmospheric locations. “The Ghost” certainly has plenty of that. The sprawling gothic manor this time includes a fog-strewn cemetery just outside the home. You can bet your ass Barbara Steele walks down a dark corridor while carrying a candelabra, the lights being blown out in a nice touch. In fact, “The Ghost” is full of effective elements like that. A door creaks open and cast a blade of light into a shadowy room. Rotting hands emerge from the blackness and blood drips on a music box. The titular ghost, with his crooked teeth, makes a few spooky entrances, usually accompanied by much foreshadowing. That music box melody is a nice reoccurring element throughout the film, creating a little suspense and adding a lyrical quality to many scenes. 

“The Ghost's” Technicolor images are never quite as searing as those in “The Horrible Dr. Hichcock.” Yet it doe feature one showstopper moment: When a frenzied Steele attacks with a strait-razor, blood pouring down the screen. That speaks to the intensity of Steele's performance here. When Margaret and her lover learn that her late husband's fortune is locked in a vault they can't access, she falls to her knees and wails. In the second half, Steele's penetrating eyes are used in service of some insane staring. It's Steele at her most histrionic. Considering she's playing more-or-less the villain protagonist of this story, it's a fitting acting choice. The rest of the cast is stately and often badly dubbed but Steele is always enchanting, whether she's scheming or screaming.

That final act is when I fully came around on “The Ghost.” The movie takes too long to get to its point. All the twists and turns are totally predictable. It's script isn't as amusingly perverse as “The Horrible Dr. Hichcock,” it lacks the Freudian layers of “Castle of Blood,” while the visuals are not quite as atmospheric as “Nightmare Castle.” (And it goes without saying that none of these films compete with “Black Sunday.”) Yet any movie that ends in multiple murders with Barbara Steele's unforgettable eyes peering into the camera with insane glee simply can't be bad in my book. For fans of this strain of nonsense, “The Ghost” will prove to be another fine distraction, even if you can easily guess how it'll play out from the first frame. [7/10]

Lights Out: Dead Man's Coat

Here in 2022, it's easy to forget that radio was the primary medium when televisions became commercially available. This being the case, it's unsurprising to read that a lot of early TV shows were based on popular radio programs. Horror stories and thrillers were popular on the airwaves all throughout the thirties and forties. “Lights Out” was among the most well-known radio shows of its day, with its macabre plots and a pun-slinging host. This is probably why NBC took a chance on a televised version in 1946. When “Lights Out” made the leap to the small screen, it became the beginning of something new: The very first horror anthology TV show broadcast directly into people's homes.

As was common for early television, “Lights Out” episodes were broadcast live. The only copies of the show are kinescope recordings. Despite that, a fair share of episodes survive. Among that lot, “Dead Man's Coat” struck me as the most interesting. Mr. Francis, a mean-spirited businessman, loves to harass his butler, Gregory. Francis hears the legend that wearing a dead man's cast, retrieved from his grave, can grant invisibility. He dismisses it at first but eventually comes around to the idea, forcing Gregory to assist him in the grave-robbery. Successfully turning invisible, Francis uses the power to murder his business rivals, tormenting the fearful Gregory into helping. 

I chose “Dead Man's Chest” out of “Lights Out's” surviving episodes because it stars Basil Rathbone. While Rathbone surely would've been delightful as the murderous villain, he's instead cast as the fearful accomplice. Rathbone is fittingly kowtowed, as the terrified butler. (And you can tell this was a live broadcast. Rathbone flubs at least one of his line, saying “dead man's grave,” instead of “coat,” in an early scene.) William Post Jr. plays the invisible killer and it's a frankly cartoonish performance. Post bellows wickedly while exaggerating every evil impulse the character has. I suspect over-the-top performances like this played better on radio than TV. The same could be said for a script that gets moving so quickly, that it barely explains any of its supernatural set-up. 

Despite that, “Dead Man's Coat” is still pretty entertaining. There's some clever in-camera effects. The scenes of Post digging up the grave have a nice foggy ambiance to them. The invisibility effects are crude, actors merely pantomiming an invisible man's attacks. Yet the unseen killer's presence is nicely signaled by a puff of smoke. The camera is mostly stationary, as you'd expect from these stone age days of TV. This makes the eye-catching angles even more striking. “Dead Man's Chest” also has a nicely ironic ending. This shows that the morality tale structure of horror anthology shows – where evildoers reek havoc but inevitably get what's coming to them – was part of the genre from the beginning. Though obviously as antiquated as can be, “Dead Man's Coat” intrigues me enough that I think I'll check out more of “Lights Out” in the future. [7/10]

Chucky: Twice the Grieving, Double the Loss

The subplots start to pile up in the penultimate of “Chucky's” first season. While at the funeral for Jake's aunt, Devon officially breaks up with him. Jake decides to run away from Hackensack. As he's getting ready to leave the city, he sees a Good Guys doll being delivered. He buys the doll off the delivery man and figures out it's being sent to the former home of Charles Lee Ray. Simultaneously, Devon has gone to investigate this same location, discovering Nica tied up in the basement. Meanwhile, Chucky starts to forge a relationship with Junior, trying to convince the boy to murder much the same way he did Jake and Caroline. Tiffany is also floating around the story, with a villainous scheme of her own. 

If it's not evident by now, I always find episodes like this to be the most tedious in a show's season. Episodes like “Twice the Grieving, Double the Loss” don't really have a story or structure of their own. They simply represents the inevitable point when the show writers have to bring all the divergent plot threads they've been developing all season together. This means cleaving through a lot of the chaff. It's becoming clear now that Lexy's sister and mom are subplots that aren't going to amount to much. Devon has to run into Nica, simply so those two threads justify their own existence. Even if it's a bit of a reach to get to that moment. Andy Barclay and Kyle are also heading towards a confrontation with the evil doll, yet another storyline taking up screen time. The suggestion that there's some deeper connection between Junior's family and Tiffany just feels like another convoluted diversion.

With all this melodrama, it's easy to loose sight of what I enjoy about this show. Breaking up Jake and Devon, just after their relationship was starting to get involving, is a misstep.  Yet, when “Chucky” gets out of its own way, it can still manage to be entertaining. There's a well executed murder scene in the last half, with the doll himself being used as a bludgeon. This leads to an unexpected, and energetic, musical moment. The flashback to Chucky and Tiff's past, which seems to be leading directly into the original “Child's Play's” events, are amusingly lurid. Hearing these two psychopaths argue about murder is good for a laugh. The show seems to be planning big things in the next episode but I wish it took less of a contrived path to get there. [6/10]

Halloween 2022: September 25th

Prey (2022)

“Predator” became a long-running franchise despite every sequel resulting in a dead-end. “Predator 2” is a cult fave now but remains the lowest grossing entry in the series. “Predators” set-up further adventures and but only did decent box office internationally. “The Predator” was built to retrofit the series into a modern day blockbuster. Instead, it got wrecked in the editing room and under-performed. And everyone hates the “Alien Vs. Predator” duo. When Disney acquired Fox, the future of such an unsuccessful series was in question. Yet sometimes a good idea prevails. In 2019, Dan Trachtenberg was attached to a project called “Skulls.” Just as “The Basement” was eventually revealed to be “10 Cloverfield Lane,” it was soon discovered that “Skulls” was actually “Prey,” a new movie in the sci-fi/action/horror franchise. Trachtenberg's approach with the far-flung prequel might have finally broken the losing streak for “Predator” follow-ups. 

In the time before America was colonized by the white man, Naru is a young Comanche woman living on the Great Plains. She bucks tribal tradition by seeking to become a hunter, much to the consternation of her brother, Taabe. While on the hunt for a mountain lion, Naru sees signs that a greater threat is facing the tribe. She discovers French fur trappers are slaughtering the local buffalo population... And that an inhuman visitor, armed with advanced weaponry, is hunting humans and animals for sport. As the predator kills all who oppose it, Naru is soon the last person left standing against the alien hunter.

The comics, the medium where the “Predator” series has had its most consistent success, often found value in placing the alien hunters into different settings and time periods. “Prey” follows this lead but depicting what's, perhaps, the first encounter between mankind and the Yautja. Placing a story that's not too dissimilar to the original “Predator” during a time when a wild America was about to be conquered by white settlers changes the meaning of many of the franchise's trademark elements. One imagines Naru and the Predator are on similar journeys: Both are trying to prove themselves by going on hunts. The difference is that the Comanche hunt to survive, while the Predator hunts for sport. Even the image of a skinned body – in this case, a herd of hideless buffalo corpses – is a familiar visual given a new meaning here. The Predator is not responsible for these skinnings. The white man is and it's going to destroy the native population. 

“Prey” certainly pays homage to the franchise's past. A beloved line of dialogue is revisited. Mud is used prominently in the climax. Yet Trachtenberg and his team find some clever new riffs on established lore. Being set four hundred years before the first film, this Predator is slightly less advanced than the alien usually is. His cloaking technology is not as sturdy. He fires metallic bolts, instead of laser beams. He wears a skull over his face, as opposed to a metal mask. It's familiar but different. You see the strength of that writing in the script's structure as well. Not one minute of “Prey's” runtime is wasted. Everything set up in the first act, from the rope Naru adds to her tomahawk, to a bog she nearly drowns in, comes back later in the film. It's very satisfying to watch unfold.

While building a “Predator” movie around a female protagonist has led to a mild amount of bitching and moaning from the expected corners of the internet, “Prey's” star has mostly been well received. Amber Midthunder plays Naru. She makes for a compelling lead, as a young girl bucking the gender norms of the culture she's grown up in. Her unconventionality gives her the novel outlook she needs to survive this unusual experience. Yet she makes mistakes too, struggling every step of the way against cultural challenges and physical difficulty. Midthunder projects an incredible sense of strength. She also has great chemistry with the little dog who plays her best friend. He's endangered all throughout the film, which adds a great deal of grim tension to the proceedings. Yet I'll go ahead and tell you, because it stressed me out: The dog lives. He's a very good boy.

If any criticism can be leveled at “Prey,” it's that the CGI effects are not exactly up-to-snuff. The so-called Feral Predator is mostly brought to life through practical make-up effects and looks pretty cool. Yet the CGI animals he tangles with, ranging from a bear to a wolf to a snake, all look fairly artificial. The action scenes are also perhaps a little over-choreographed. The Predator has a little too much fun flipping his weapons through the air. Naru's jumps and kicks seem a little too acrobatic, for someone not trained in martial arts. Yet it's easy to forgive these flaws when the movie piles on some gnarly gore. The scene where the Predator massacres the fur trappers features some inventive bloodshed, including making novel use of the alien's telescoping shield.

Since “Prey” is a Hulu exclusive for the time being, its success can be gauge entirely in terms of fan reaction and critical response. The prequel has, in fact, been very well received, with many calling it the first good “Predator” sequel. I really wish Disney had deemed this worthy of a theatrical release. Considering its compact 65 million dollar budget, I can't imagine it wouldn't have turned a profit. Considering this R-rated franchise is under the House of Mouse now, I suppose we should be happy a new “Predator” movie got made at all... And that it actually managed to be pretty damn good too. The comic books figured out ages ago that the Predator is a sturdy monster that can reliably work in just about any scenario. It seems the movies have finally figured that out. If this leads to further films, dropping the alien hunter down into a number of exotic, historical settings, that would be a-okay by me. [7/10]

Confessions of an Opium Eater (1962)

Obviously, I think of Vincent Price, first and foremost, as a horror star. This is certainly true for the majority of cinema fans. However, Price had a fantastic career that took him across many different genres. His campy theatricality was well-suited to melodrama and comedy. His dramatic flair made him an ideal fit for villain roles in swashbucklers and epics. He even showed up in a western once or twice. Yet, after horror, Price is probably best known for his work in film noir. He was a distinctive presence in classics like "Laura," "While the City Sleeps," "The Web," "Leave Her to Heaven" and countless others. In 1962, Price's two trademark genres would cross-pollinate in a very off-beat fashion with "Confessions of an Opium Eater."

Set in 1902, Price plays Gilbert de Quincey, the descendent of "Confession of an English Opium Eater" author Thomas de Quincey. A freelance adventurer, de Quincey has come to San Francisco's Chinatown for a specific reason. Gang wars among Tong factions are tearing the community apart. Girls are being imported from China to sell at auctions – with opium as the currency – to men seeking traditional Chinese brides. Gilbert has been hired to retrieve a bride that has escaped the slavery operation, yet he soon finds himself fighting to free the kidnapped girls. His journey will take him through underground tunnels, opium dens, and into the depths of the sex trade. 

Though made long after the genre had largely fallen out of favor, “Confessions of an Opium Eater” fits clearly into the noir genre. The film begins with Vincent Price narrating on the nature of human existence, as extrapolated from the story's themes. This is just one example of the hyper-stylized dialogue on display here. He plays a perpetually unlucky hero, who spends the whole movie getting beaten up, captured, and humiliated. This ties in with a perpetually downbeat tone, the seemingly hopeful climax leading us to an unusually unexpectedly downbeat final scene. The urban setting is full of shadows. The story is typically convoluted, occupied with double-crosses and shifting alliances. Price is even at the whims of a femme fatale, in the form of a duplicitous woman named Ruby Low. Considering enough time had passed for noir conventions to pass into cliché, “Confession of an Opium Eater” almost feels like a weirdo parody of the genre at times. 

If this one is so clearly a noir throwback, why am I talking about it during the Halloween Horror-Fest Blog-a-thon? Halfway through the film, after escaping from one den of sin or another, Price walks into an opium house. He puffs on a pipe and sinks into a nightmarish opium dream. What follows is a montage of horrific images, centered around a skull emerging out of the fog and approaching ever closer. Images of snakes, ghouls, and spiders fade in and out as Price pontificates on the evils of the drugs. That pushes the film clearly into the margins of the genre for me. The movie's not done being weird after that. The effects of the opium persists through the chase that follows. This plays out in slow-mo, with two minutes of total silence followed by repetitive editing and unusual sound effects, further adding to the feeling of disorientation. Close enough for the Six Weeks of Halloween for me!

If it isn't obvious, “Confessions of an Opium Eater” is kind of an odd one. Director Albert Zugsmith – other credits include “Sex Kittens Go to College” and “Movie Star, American Style or; LSD, I Hate You” – brings some stylized shadows to the visuals, paired with shotgun editing that feels totally intentional. This is most evident during the opening action scene, where a net full of girls is dropped on a boat via the power of stop-motion photography. Albert Glasser's Theremin-heavy score provides an off-kilter ambiance. The plot includes unexpected developments, like Price earning a Chinese dwarf lady sidekick midway through the film. Or a supporting character tricking everyone with an unmoving mask and a high-pitched voice. Strangest of all, perhaps, is the decision to cast Vincent Price as an action hero. Obviously, I love Price but he seems hopelessly out-of-place dueling a vicious Tong enforcer with an axe on a board over a stream. Or swinging a flail at guys who look like sprites from a “Double Dragon” game. He's much more adapt at trading the movie's stylized, often circular dialogue.

By the way, the movie's racial politics do not hold up to modern, sensitive scrutiny. Almost all the Chinese characters are either helpless damsels, scheming human traffickers, or bumbling comic relief. (Though the movie gets points, I guess, for casting actual Asian actors in the parts.) There's a scene where girls from different cultures perform sexy dances for the buyers, a moment dripping in exoticism. When combined with its off-putting, weird choices and a plot that's often hard-to-follow, it's not surprising this one has largely been dismissed. Yet those same eccentricities have attracted a few fans. Joe Dante lists it as one of his favorite movies. Its story of a smart-ass hero, bumbling through underground tunnels and Chinese crime lords, seems like a likely influence on “Big Trouble in Little China.” I came away liking this one for its oddball tendencies, even if it's mid-tier Price at best. Though any of his monologues here would make a great sample for a goth-rock/industrial track... [7/10]

Creepshow: Drug Traffic / A Dead Girl Named Sue

“Creepshow” gets about ten minutes longer than usual for its season finale. “Drug Traffic” is about Evan Miller, a presidential candidate who takes U.S. citizens across the Canadian border to make a point about U.S. healthcare. (And as a publicity stunt.) On the bus is an Asian-American woman with a very sick daughter, who is detained for the massive amounts of pills she's smuggling. Miller and the die-hard communist border guard soon discover why she needs the pills: Her daughter is a demon from Malay mythology. “A Dead Girl Named Sue” takes place in 1968. It begins with Police Chief Foster attempting to calm a vigilante mob, enraged by the actions of the mayor's psychopathic son. Recent events in the town – revealing that this segment is a prequel to a horror classic – changes Foster's minds on how to deliver justice. 

I'm always a fan of building a story around myths from underrepresented cultures. The creature in “Drug Traffic” is what I've always heard call a penanggalan, though it has different names depending on where you are. The exact nature of the entity varies but it's most consistently depicted as a young woman whose head detaches from her body, her entrails trailing under her neck, and floats around in pursuit of blood. It's a visually spectacular beast, even if it stretches “Creepshow's” effects budget to its limit. I wish the penanggalan myth had anything to do with “Drug Traffic's” political angle. Casting Michael Rooker against type as a communist is a nice touch. Yet, by the time he's talking out the episode's political agenda with Miller – which boils down to “politicians don't give a shit about the people who vote for them” – the script has officially crossed over into ham-fisted territory. Truthfully, this one would've been stronger if the political angle was downgraded from text to subtext.

The homage episodes in “Creepshow” have mostly sucked, especially this season. “A Dead Girl Named Sue” isn't bad though. The script doesn't foreground that this story takes place parallel to a landmark horror film. Any Shudder subscriber will pick up on it quickly – the date and black-and-white photography is a big clue – but the episode doesn't shove your face in it. It helps that the plot stands alone. The premise of a by-the-book cop finally reaching his breaking point, when dealing with a total son-of-bitch, is conveyed well enough. Christian Gonzalez and Josh Mikel are strong in those roles. The script is too dialogue heavy. I wish the final reveal, which includes a burst of color in this monochrome setting, was set up better. Yet it's a clever idea that's executed in a sturdy manner. A decent way to wrap up a season that has featured the best and worst episodes of the show thus far. [Drug Traffic: 6/10 / A Dead Girl Named Sue: 7/10]

Chucky: Cape Queer

“Chucky” is at the inevitable point all these serialized shows reach, where episodes are just made up of juggling various plot lines. Junior's mom reveals her cancer diagnosis to her family, right before Chucky kills her. This makes it apparent to Jake, Lexy, and Devon that the murderous doll is still at large. Jake and Devon get closer while preparing themselves for their next confrontation. They also get a hold of Andy Barclay, the little boy from the original “Child's Play,” and Kyle, his adoptive sister from the sequel. Those two have been traveling the country, searching for the additional Chucky dolls from “Cult.” And else where, Tiffany purchases Charles Lee Ray's childhood home in Hackensack after discovering Nica has regained control of her body.

It took way too long for Jake, Devon, and Lexy to start working together as a team. Now that the trio is together, their dynamic is really working for me. Jake and Devon are adorable together. The scene where Devon comes out to is mom is really cute. So is the scene where the two boys bond over their love of horror movies. I'm okay with blatant references, like Devon name-dropping Jamie Lee Curtis, when it tells us more about these characters and their worlds. The three preparing to fight off Chucky is also a blatant homage, to Scorsese's “Cape Fear.” Yet watching these three interact is simply fun. 

It's a shame nobody can figure out how to write a slasher TV series that doesn't eventually degrade into soap opera-ish digressions. While it's possible Junior and his dad might still make a meaningful contribution to the overarching plot – though I'm doubtful – his mom really was introduced just to be killed off. (Though the biology teacher being framed for the principal's death may be an even more worthless subplot.) At least she gets a fairly spectacular death scene, Chucky pushing her out a window and right into a car windshield. That's not the only victim the doll claims in this one, though the second death at least has the sense to occur in the middle of an otherwise tense confrontation.

I do feel sorry for Jennifer Tilly, always having the time of her life in this role, and Fiona Dourif, honestly a quite subtle and talented performer. Presumably, their storyline will interact with the rest of the show at some point. Right now, it's not much more than fan service. The same can be said for Alex Vincent and Christine Elise, as Andy and Kyle. I like the insight that Andy has actually gotten quite sadistic, when it comes to Chucky, the years of torment the doll put him through having an effect on his sanity. Yet it's so frustrating to have these characters weave in-and-out of the episodes, essentially just to remind the viewer they still exist, on their way to actually doing something of importance. That's why movies are the superior medium to television. All killer, no filler, baby. Anyway, this show remains pretty good when it's not fucking around. [6/10]

Halloween 2022: September 24th

Nope (2022)

This past summer, the “Let people enjoy things” guy had a tweet go viral when he decided Jordan Peele must be the greatest horror director of all time, after only three feature films. Peele himself dragged the guy while humbly acknowledging his own influences. Hyperbole aside, the sketch comedy star turned Oscar-winning filmmaker is on an extraordinary run right now. Following the critically adored "Get Out" and cleverer, scarier "Us," Peele brought the people "Nope." From its vague title to its mysterious marketing, the project was Peele's most beguiling picture yet. Finally sitting down to watch it, I tried to go in knowing as little as possible and was soundly impressed. While declaring him the "greatest horror director of all time" is hopelessly premature, "Nope" proves again that Peele's past successes are not flukes. He really knows what he's doing. 

OJ Haywood and his sister Emerald Haywood inherit a historic horse ranch in California following the mysterious death of their father, whose familial roots in Hollywood go back to the very beginning of film. The ranch has fallen on hard times and OJ has turned to selling horses to Ricky "Jupe" Park, a former child star and owner of a near-by western amusement park. While OJ and Em debate what to do, he notices something strange in the skies above. It soon becomes apparent that a flying saucer – or something that looks like one – is camping out in an unmoving cloud overhead and has been abducting their horses. OJ recruits an electronic surveillance specialist and a grizzled Hollywood cinematographer to try and document the phenomenon, in hopes that this will bring them the funds needed to save the ranch. Soon, they'll uncover the horrifying truth of what exists above them. 

Peele's last two films were set in small towns and cities, showcasing idyllic suburban settings hiding disturbing conspiracies. "Nope," meanwhile, is all about the isolation of the American southwest. The wide, flat landscapes of Southern California stretch on in all directions, the Haywood ranch seeming small and alone. The seclusion of this area is an ideal location to create unsettling moments of horror. Peele and his team lean even more into the dream-like visuals of "Get Out" and "Us." "Nope" begins in the realm of the quietly creepy, with a scene of ape-like "aliens" creeping around a horse stable. As it goes on, it escalates to primal nightmare imagery like blood pouring from the sky and the fear of being devoured alive. Hoyte van Hoytema's cinematography is both wide in scope, invoking countless westerns, while also shockingly intimate at times, putting the viewer right in the seat of the terror the film's victims feel.

Among "Nope's" most unsettling moments is a flashback to Jupe's childhood, when his chimpanzee costar on sitcom "Gordy's Home" brutally attacked the actors. (A scene likely inspired by the infamous Travis the Chimp incident.) Though clearly still haunted by this memory, Jupe is happy to capitalize on the incident's notoriety. He sells admissions to a secret "Gordy's Home" museum to die hard fans. Similarly, upon realizing there's unidentified aerial phenomenon happening over the ranch – which is responsible for the death of their father – OJ and Em immediately see it as a means to make money. They aren't doing this to be exploitative, merely because they have to survive. Unexpectedly, disposable popcorn movie "The Scorpion King" forms part of the backstory here, as OJ and Em's horse trainer dad worked on the film... In fall of 2001. "Nope" seems to center on a generation who have grown up in the shadow of constant tragedy, who are now forced to exploit their childhood trauma just to survive.

The theme of commodifying tragedy is far from the only idea floating around inside this ambitious motion picture's head. Running throughout the screenplay is the often erased contribution black talent has made to the history of film, humanity's hunger for spectacle and fame in an era when everything is watched, and the tendency to assume we can control unpredictable wild animals. As heady and layered as "Nope" is, it's also the story of two siblings learning to rely on each other again. The quiet OJ was always given more opportunities by their traditionalist father. Emerald, eager to be in the film industry her whole life, has always resented him for it. Throughout this strange adventure, they put their heads together to invent a crazy plan to capture something extraordinary on camera. They also come to understand that, no matter what, they have one another's back. Daniel Kaluuya's brooding performance and Keke Palmer's irrepressible energy further bring these characters, and their down-to-earth arcs, to life. 

That "Nope" is partially a statement on spectacle is fitting. It's Peele's biggest budget movie yet, with a plum summer movie release date and clearly influenced by the films of Steven Spielberg. The film is doubtlessly a technical achievement, with gorgeous cinematography and a tension raising score. (Which is often assisted by some bold needle drops that twist innocuous faire like "Sunglasses at Night" and "Purple People Eater' into surprisingly creepy audio landscapes.) The film's most impressive spectacle is its creative reinvention of the flying saucer premise. The film slowly reveals the exact nature of its otherworldly threat, which is designed to dispel whatever preconceived notions you might have about the flying saucer premise. "Nope" subtly hints at the nature of its beasts all throughout its run time, with images of round, reflective objects – which even the prominent O in the title seems to recall – and an emphasis on eating, food, and predation. This doesn't demystify the threat but rather makes it more intriguing. The exact origins of the threat are still kept ambiguous, with some people extrapolating a religious or cryptozoological explanation. The nature of the thing, its relationship with color and the jellyfish-like way it transformed, has to make it among the most creatively engineered sci-fi threats in recent memory. 

With strong supporting performances from beloved character actors Keith David and Michael Wincott,  "Nope" is a layered and fantastically executed motion picture experience. Full of ideas and concepts, it's arguable that "Nope" doesn't catch every ball it throws up in the air. Yet it remains an endlessly entertaining, scary, and inventive genre experience all throughout. Honestly, I think it might be my favorite of Peele's films so far. I don't think I'd call him the "greatest horror director of all time." I don't think that's a title one person can really hold onto it. But I do think Peele has continued to establish himself as one of the genre's brightest, biggest stars right now and with good reason. I look forward to whatever he cooks up next. [9/10]

The Devil's Men (1976)

I'm prone to think of the seventies Satanic panic movie as primarily an American thing. The United States' puritanical roots has caused Devil hysteria to periodically recurred throughout our history, while uniquely American manipulators like LaVey or Manson have been happy to set off the powder keg again. Sorry, that's my narrow, U.S.-centric worldview showing. The truth is "The Exorcist" was a global phenomenon. Knock-offs appeared in places as far-flung as Turkey, India, or Brazil. Other devil movies hailed from all over Europe. In 1976, Greece – not a nation especially known for its horror movies – would throw its horned hat into the cloven-hooved ring. That's the year director Kostas Karagiannis would unleash "The Devil's Men." U.S. distributors would trim the film by three minutes to get a PG rating and released it as "Land of the Minotaur," a title that actually represents the story a little better. 

A pair of archaeology students visits their friend, Irish Catholic priest Father Roche, at his monastery in the Greek countryside. Against his warnings, they go to investigate a near-by dig site. There, the duo runs afoul of a pagan cult who sacrifice them before a stone statue of their deity, the minotaur. Disturbed by the disappearance, Roche hires an American private investigator named Milo Kaye to investigate. The two men, alongside Milo's girlfriend Laurie, soon discover that the entire near-by town is under the sway of the minotaur. The cult's ringleader, a British expat named Baron Corofax, and Father Roche are soon in a fight over the souls of everyone near-by.

Seventies Satanism movies fascinated me because they so clearly reflect the cultural anxieties of their time. Films like "The Omen" have downbeat endings where evil essentially wins. In these stories, the devil is very real and very powerful. God, meanwhile, is nowhere to be seen and can do nothing to stop the Satanic forces. “The Devil's Men,” despite coming from the same era, is very different though. Father Roche fights off the devil-worshipers or breaks their spells just by saying a prayer or flashing a crucifix. The cultist can shrug off bullets or survive getting run over by a car but fear the smallest mention of God. In the climatic scene – spoiler alert for an obscure, 46 year old movie – some splashing of holy water and the Lord's prayer is enough to make the pagan evildoers literally explode! Even the kids in the cult are spared because, as Father Roche explains, they are just children and still have time to change their minds. Our God is truly a mighty and merciful one. “The Devil's Men” takes the ideas in “The Exorcist” even further by making the Catholic priest practically a super-powered action hero.

“Land of the Minotaur” isn't without its visual quirks. When the minotaur statue speaks to its followers, a gravelly, radio D.J. voice rumbles the lines. Director Karagiannis is fond of crash-zooms on people's eyes and faces. That technique is often used to punctuate drawn-out sequences, making them feel like violent intrusions. If this was the intended effect, it's an interesting one. Considering how stilted and oddly shot the rest of the movie is though, I'm betting it's just sloppily edited. Adding to this disorientating ambiance is a droning electronic score from Brian Eno. Yes, that Brian Eno. While the spacey, warbling music definitely adds to the movie's off-beat tone, it becomes monotonous quickly. I don't know what a music legend like Eno was doing, working on low-budget schlock like this. Considering how half-assed the score is, maybe he didn't know either. 

The reason I watched “The Devil's Men” is, I suspect, the reason most people seek it out. Donald Pleasence and Peter Cushing star and both are cast against type. Pleasence plays the heroic Catholic priest while Cushing is the wicked cult leader. Cushing gets several quality moments, when brandishing a shotgun and authoritatively ordering people around. He seems a little bored during the demonic sermons though. Pleasence, sporting a goofy Irish accent, is adapt at bemoaning the evil of the devil and the glory of God. This is, in many ways, a precursor to Dr. Loomis. The rest of the cast includes a hard-boiled but indistinct Costas Skouras, as the detective, and a pair of leggy blondes in extremely tight, revealing jean shorts.

The repetitive music only emphasizes that not much happens here. This is one of those horror movies were most of the runtime is made up of people walking from one location to the next. The story is thin, essentially a series of encounters before the hero and villain face off, and the presentation is flat. Cushing and Pleasence do their best to elevate lackluster material and there's occasionally a bizarre, surprising sight. Yet “The Devil's Men” is mostly a tedious experience. One more thing: The longer cut includes a title song, a grunting bit of devil funk. The composition is sung by a Paul Williams and IMDb seems to think it's that Paul Williams. The man who wrote “The Rainbow Connection” did not sing the line “You're tempting the skies with your devil thighs!” It's actually the Paul Williams from British prog-rock band Tempest. Am I going to have to make an IMDb Pro account just to fix this? [5/10]

Creepshow: Time Out / The Thing in Oakwood's Past

The fifth episode of “Creepshow's” third season finds the series in an unusually ambitious mode. In “Time Out,” law student Tim inherits a wardrobe that belonged to his grandmother. He soon discovers that time passes slower outside the wardrobe then inside it. Tim uses this magical object to put in extra hours at work, which leads him to a successful life. Years later, after marrying his college sweetheart and fathering a son, he learns the gift comes with a terrible price. “The Thing in Oakwood's Past” follows news anchor Mac as he interviews Marnie, a town historian. On the eve of a historical anniversary, in which a time capsule will be opened, Marnie digs into Oakwood's disturbing history. Her and Mac attempt to stop a cycle, of the town disappearing off the map, from repeating itself.

“Time Out” has to rank among “Creepshow's” most thoughtful installments. It's a story without monsters or gore, feeling more “Twilight Zone” than “Tales from the Crypt.” It instead poses a question I think we've all grappled with: What if we could add a few hours to the day, to get some extra stuff done? I know I make that wish all the time. While the time-stopping wardrobe allows Tim to achieve his goals, the downside of such an invention – you wouldn't stop aging inside – is unavoidable. Ultimately, “Time Out” is asking the viewer how they measure success: By having leisure time to spend with your loved ones or by making money and advancing professionally? The weight of a capitalistic society that demands constant success and profits ends up pushing Tim to be his own undoing. It's a weighty, intriguing premise that is well executed. The old age make-up Matthew Barnes wears in the lead role is a little overdone, though his performance is good. The ending is easy to predict, though unsettling nevertheless. This definitely ranks among the show's best installments, if not its best.

The most notable aspect of “The Thing in Oakwood's Past” is that it's a cartoon. The animation is more expressive and fluid than the motion comic style since in the previous animated “Creepshow” episodes. (Though it's still fairly stiff but most standards.) It's a compelling narrative, that is reminiscent of those Stephen King stories inspired by Lovecraft. I enjoyed the flirtations between Mac and Marnie, lively voiced by Ron Livingston and Danielle Harris. Throughout “The Thing in Oakwood's Past,” I was wondering why exactly it was animated though... This becomes apparent in its finale, filled with a whole mess of elaborate demons and multiple methods of gory dismemberment. While not groundbreaking, “The Thing in Oakwood's Past” is spirited in its telling and the animation adds some novelty. [Time Out: 9/10 / The Thing in Oakwood's Past: 7/10]

Chucky: Little Little Lies

“Chucky” is at the point where Jake, Devon, and Lexy are all aware of the killer doll stalking them. The melted Chucky doll is tossed out by Caroline/Lexy's mom. The trio track down the doll and seemingly destroy it for good. Caroline's dad get her an identical Good Guy Doll off the internet but it appears to be harmless. Of course, when no one was looking, Chucky used the soul-swapping abilities he gained in “Cult of Chucky” to simply leap into the new doll. I hope you saw that movie because this episode also catches us up with Tiffany, Chucky's equally murderous bride currently residing in Jennifer Tilly's body... And another part of Chucky's soul, inside the body of Nica Pierce, the protagonist of the last two movies. 

I knew the direct-to-video “Chucky” sequels were well received but I was still surprised when a TV show continuation went into production. This episode reveals why. Jake, Devon and Lexy leap onto their bikes to rush through their suburban town, on a quest to stop a supernatural evil. Yes, this show is another member of the kids-on-bikes revival that “Stranger Things” kicked off. At the very least, “Chucky” has found a novel angle to explore a style that's quickly getting overexposed. The growing chemistry between Jake and Devon are nicely handled. When they hold hands or kiss for the first time, it's adorable. I never would've expected this, of all shows, to feature a heartfelt queer romance.

Yet that's probably not the main attraction this episode has to long-time fans of this franchise. As I mentioned above, “Little Little Lies” goes all-in on the series lore. Tiffany and Nica appear suddenly and the exact nature of their situation isn't immediately elaborated on. It's not until Nica briefly regains control of her body that she dumps exposition on a random victim. Yet Fiona Dourif's vulnerability and Jennifer Tilly's quirky energy add so much to these oddball scenes.  (Least we forget, Tilly is sorta-kinda playing herself here.) I also enjoy the flashback scene, where Fiona very convincingly plays her own dad. Though Brad dubs his voice onto the younger Dourif's lips, which is a bit distracting.

Bringing in some familiar faces, and letting the kids bounce off each other, keeps this episode fun... And it's a good thing, because those subplots continue to drag the show down. Hey, Junior's mom has terminal cancer! Who gives a shit! Lexy's mom, the town mayor, is revealing herself to be an abusive bitch who unironically says “thoughts and prayers.” Hoo-ray for obvious political commentary! It really seems like she's going to be the Murder of the Week. Instead, the school principal gets decapitated, while The Yeah Yeah Yeahs play. Obvious needle drop aside, at least it's a hell of a moment. I also like the scene where the melted Chucky doll looks in, longingly, at Caroline and the fresh Good Guys doll. Major “Toy Story 3” vibes. Anyway, this show is good when it gets out of its own way. [7/10]

Halloween 2022: September 23rd

We're All Going to the World's Fair (2022)

Horror stories have always spread via word-of-mouth. This is how urban legends, like the Vanishing Hitchhiker or Bloody Mary, circulated through the youth culture and around the globe. Once the internet came into existence, this presented a new way for myths to grow. When streaming video became an every day part of our lives, the virus spread there too. Phrases like ARGs – alternate reality games – or “creepypasta” became a new way to interact with ghoulish and disturbing fiction. It's a sad element of human nature that some people take this fascination with the macabre too far, which is how we've gotten internet horror trends that actually hurt people. Most attempts by filmmakers to comment on these new variation on the urban legend have been trashy cash-ins. Late last year, a film began to build buzz on the festival circuit that took a more thoughtful approach. That would be “We're All Going to the World's Fair,” which got a general release earlier this year and is now available all over thanks to HBO Max.

A teenage girl named Casey spends her days, alone in her bedroom. With seemingly no friends, she instead devotes her free time to watching videos online. This is how she hears about The World's Fair Challenge, an internet urban legend and alternate reality game mostly “played” through video uploads. If someone say the words “I'm going to the world's fair” into their computer screen three times, before wiping blood on the screen, it invokes some sort of curse. Lonely and depressed, Casey becomes obsessed with the World's Fair mythology. She makes her own scary videos on the topic, posting them online. This attracts the attention of an older man, called JLB, who wants to play the game with her. Soon, Casey falls deeper into an invented reality.

“We're All Going to the World's Fair” has been sold as a horror film about creepypastas and ARGs. Yet this is not entirely the case. The “game” at the center of the narrative is kept intentionally vague. What exactly happens to those afflicted by the World's Fair curse seems to vary from person-to-person. The script is rich with ambiguity and whether Casey is cursed or simply playing along is up for the viewer to decide. Instead, Jane Schoenbrun's feature is better described as being about another word I've heard a lot lately: Dissociation. One of the supposed symptoms of the World's Fair curse is the body going numb, much the same way emotional numbness is a symptom of dissociative episodes. Casey never actually interacts with another person in-the-flesh, as her father is just a screaming voice off-screen. She watches a weird video about a woman turning into plastic and talks about her sleepwalking incidents, showing her disconnect from her own body. She's immobile for hours and is, of course, absorbed in a fantasy world. Whether the girl is loosing her grip on reality because she spends too much time online, or if she spends so much time online because she's lost her grip on reality, is up for debate. Yet the film still accurately captures the feeling of loosing yourself in an internet-choked fog.

“We're All Going to the World's Fair” is not a horror film in any tradition sense. Its chills are strictly low-key. Sometimes, the movie seems to be actively mocking traditional horror stories. Such as a peek we get at a goofy Youtube series based on the myth. Casey mutilating her favorite stuffed animal in a trance, and then discovering the gutted toy lemur once she's awake, is more upsetting because of the pain she feels than anything else. Yet Schoenbrun does generate an unnerving atmosphere. Much of “We're All Going to the World's Fair” is told through laptop screens. Often, we'll be presented with a video that auto-plays into something else. An ASMR video Casey watches to fall asleep segues, unannounced, into a video of her own distorted face. Maybe the most unsettling moment in is simply a lingering Youtube clip of a person sitting quietly and looking at the camera, their face seeming Deep-Faked onto their body. “We're All Going to the World's Fair” occupies that head-space, where you stumble upon something weird online, late at night, and it freaks you out simply because you don't know what the hell it is.

The suspense in “We're All Going to the World's Fair” is derived not so much from wondering if its creepy internet mythology is “real.” Even the most unsettling evidence we see of the World's Fair syndrome – a video of a guy scratching at his arm until he pulls a string of tickets out from under the skin – is clearly fake. Instead, the tension arises from Casey's shaky sanity. Anna Cobb's performance is totally unvarnished. She seems like a real, wide-eyed teenager sinking deeper into depression and isolation. Her ennui is all too convincing and unsettling, such as when she inserts a blood-curdling scream into the middle of a standard song-and-dance video. Once “JLB” starts communicating with her, you really start to worry. He's clearly an older man – his avatar is a ten-year old meme – and seems determined to convince Casey that he's someone she can rely on emotionally. While his true intentions are never shown, that he's always breathing heavy on their Skype calls and praising her seems to suggest the truth. After all, teenage girls online have a lot more to fear from creepy men trying to groom them than cursed Youtube videos.

Shcoenbron does cut away from Casey's bedroom, to show “JLB” in his daily life. His intentions with the girl are still left ambiguous, much like many of the film's themes. I think these scenes represents the film's biggest flaw, as any time spent outside of Casey's headspace breaks the story's spell. The more intimate “We're All Going to the World's Fair” feels, the more effective it is. There are multiple scenes simply devoted to the girl recording her small town – which is as unassuming as a small town can seem – as she wanders around, talking to herself. Most of the movie is set entirely inside her bedroom, shot with what seems to be web-cams. This gives “We're All Going to the World's Fair” an incredibly cheap appearance. I would not be surprised to find out that the creepy ambient score, by indie-pop musician Alex G., was the most expensive part of the film to produce. Yet this works in the movie's favor. Casey could be any girl, living in any town in America, and her videos are as rough as that implies. It all adds to the film's unnervingly plausible feeling of unreality.

As someone who counts “Serial Experiments Lain” among his all-time favorite TV shows, “We're All Going to the World's Fair” was obviously going to appeal to me. As someone who has also spent entirely too much of their life online, and grappled with occasional spells of disaffection, I relate to it as well. The film puts its viewer in a strange trance, leading to a frequently unsettling feeling. Extremely slow indie horror like this that keeps so much of its story – including the ending – vague isn't going to appeal to many people. Critics loved it and Shcoenbron already has their follow-up in the can. (Which also sounds like it's inspired by creepypasta, in this case the “lost episode” genre of story.) “We're All Going to the World's Fair” has to be one of the most observant films ever made about internet culture. If nothing else, it's ten times classier, and a hundred times better made, than every ARG-inspired horror movie past, present, and probably future too. [8/10]

The Torture Chamber of Dr. Sadism (1967)

Die Schlangengrube und das Pendel

Christopher Lee is one of the greatest horror stars of all time. I’m not sure that’s a status he was comfortable with though. While Lee praised his roles in classics like “The Wicker Man” or “The Devil Rides Out,” he was often dismissive of his other genre work. Every fond recollection of Mario Bava would be followed by trash-talk for his “Dracula” movies. One can only speculate on what Lee thought of the many low-budget horror films he appeared in throughout the sixties, usually made in Italy or Germany. A typical example is a 1967 German production known in its native language as "Die Schlangengrube und das Pendel" – direct translation: "The Snake Pit and the Pendulum" – but given a dozen different titles over the years. Wikipedia calls it "The Blood Demon." Releases with names like "Blood-O-Rama," "Blood of the Virgins," or "Castle of the Walking Dead" are easily found. Severin went with "The Torture Chamber of Dr. Sadism" for their Blu-Ray edition, recently re-released in a box set of Lee's Euro-Horror offerings. That's the version I own, so let's go with that. 

In 18th century Germany, a wicked count named Regula murdered 12 virgin girls, believing their blood could make him immortal. Before completing the ritual, he was drawn and quartered for his horrid deeds. Three decades later, a lawyer named Roger and a Baroness named Lilian are lured to Count Regula's former residence – now a point of local legend, known as Blood Castle – with promises of an inheritance. Upon arriving at the castle, they discover Regula still lives as an undead ghoul. He needs the blood of Lilian and Roger, the descendants of his victims and executioners, to fully restore himself to life. Our heroes will have to face down evil if they hope to escape the torture chamber of Dr. Sadism Count Regula. 

Producer Erwin Gitt intentionally set out to emulate Mario Bava's gothic horror films with this “Torture Chamber.” Those Italian flicks were inspired by A.I.P.'s Poe Cycle, an American attempt to compete with Hammer's technicolor monster movies. You see all these influences in “Dr. Sadism.” Once we get to the castle, the film indulges in brightly colored gore. There's also Karin Dor in a low-cut gown and semi-naked babes strapped to tables. These lurid sights recall Hammer. The best stretch concerns the heroes riding a carriage into a fog-strewn forest. Surreal sights, like phantom bodies hanging in trees or human hands protruding from rocks, are featured. Regula also decorates his torture chamber with wall-sized Hieronymus Bosch mural. I bet Bava would've appreciate that. Meanwhile, the Poe influence is obvious once Roger is pinned under a swinging pendulum. (This was enough for a “Based on a story by Edgar Allen Poe” credit to be slapped on the poster, a ludicrous claim.) 

Sadly, certain factors keep me from enjoying “The Torture Chamber of Dr. Sadism” as much as I otherwise would. Primarily, the protagonist is a total bore. Roger has no personality beyond always being right. In the dub, Lex Barker is given a hilariously deep voice that is impossible to take seriously. He ends up saving the day thanks to the laziest type of plot device. Christopher Lee, obviously the real star of the show, doesn't show up until about forty minutes into the movie. Though Count Regula didn't give Lee much to work with, his commanding presence managed to make even a thinly written villain threatening. The film tries to compensate with a colorful supporting cast. Vladimir Medar steals the show as  a boisterous monk who isn't all he appears to be. I honestly wish he was the star of the movie. 

The long wait until Lee rises from his grave is another factor contributing to the film's slow first half. That it takes so long for the characters to get to the castle, while the script occupies itself with half-assed subplots about bandits, feels needlessly drawn out. Once we finally get to the titular torture chamber, the movie finally delivers on the luridness its title promises. There's iron gates slamming down in place, beds covered with protruding spikes, and wracks of varying sizes. Fulfilling the promise of the original German title, there is both a pit full of snakes and a giant swinging pendulum. While “Dr. Sadism” can't top Roger Corman's take on the same material, that pendulum sequence is tightly shot and effectively drawn out.

“The Torture Chamber of Dr. Sadism,” or whatever you choose to call it, certainly does not rise above its influences. The opening flashback is obviously beholden to “Black Sunday,” even featuring a steel mask being hammered onto a condemned aristocrat's head... Though the big smiley face on the mask makes it considerably less intimidating than “La maschera del demonio.” Yet, if you're in the mood for a certain breed of horror schlock, this one will probably satisfy. It's not as good as the Italian films it draws from. More of Christopher Lee being evil and a less stiff protagonist would've helped. Yet I still managed to mostly have a morbidly fun time with this one. [6/10]

Creepshow: Stranger Sings / Meter Reader

“Stranger Sings” begins with Barry, a recently divorced OBGYN, holding the door open for Sara at a coffee shop. The two hit it off and he walks her back home. A beautiful singing voice lures him inside. That's when Barry meets Miranda, Sara's best friend and a ten thousand year old siren. The women force Barry into performing surgery on them, swapping their voice boxes which will render Miranda human and turn Sara into a siren. In “Meter Reader,” a demonic plague has overtaken the globe. Vatican-approved “meter readers” travel the country, exorcising evil spirits and decapitating those who can't be saved. As Dalton, an experienced meter reader, returns to his home and his family have to question whether he's been possessed or not. 

Aside from a dumb title – a pun that will mean nothing once a certain Netflix show slips from public memory – I liked “Stranger Sings” well enough. The meet-cute between Barry and Sara is entertaining. A goofily charming Chris Mayers and Suehyla El-Attar Young have convincing chemistry. I like that the sirens are depicted closer to their mythological origins, as man-eating bird monsters. (Though they're also given lamia-like snake tails.) The premise is silly but the proceedings are kept darkly humorous enough for that to be accepted. It's interesting that a woman – “Tales of Halloween's” Axelle Carolyn – directed this. If a guy directed a story about evil women manipulating and killing guys, with a doofy guy as a hero who gets a happy ending, it would come off a lot differently. 

I suspect Joe Esposito originally intended “Meter Reader” to be a feature film or short story. Its apocalyptic premise feels seriously abbreviated when shoved into a twenty-minute TV episode. The opening sequences, told through “Creepshow's” trademark comic panels, is overloaded with exposition. The rubber heads and shitty CGI fire effects also make it clear that this story was hard to pull off on a TV budget. This is probably the reason why most of the episode is confined to a home. When it takes so much time to set-up a premise, that's heavy on specific terms and world-building, it's hard to get too invested in the characters.  

Director Joe Lynch uses the episode as an excuse to imitate Sam Raimi and “Evil Dead,” with crash-zooms, dutch angles, and energetic edits. Jonathan Schaech definitely strikes a Bruce Campbellian posture as Dalton. The possessed recall both the deadites and “The Exorcist,” especially in the use of some vomited pea soup. “Meter Reader” attempts some commentary on the pandemic, with Dalton's wife naively hoping life will return to normal soon and the nail salons will reopen. This never amounts to much though. The idea of blue collar exorcists traveling the world, fighting demons, has potential but “Meter Reader” isn't novel or well-defined enough to support its big ideas. [Stranger Sings: 7/10 / Meter Reader: 5/10]

Chucky: Just Let Go

“Chucky” wimps out on Lexy's fate, as she improbably survives a house fire without a scratch. Now she knows the doll is alive and a killer. She confronts Jake and the two form a rough alliance, to investigation the remains of her home. Smoke inhalation from the fire has put Junior and Caroline in the hospital, the little girl on a ventilator. Everyone's parents gather in the hospital, arguing among themselves. Detective Evans questions Jake. Devon reads up on the urban legends surrounding Charles Lee Ray and the Good Guy dolls. Chucky, now half melted from the fire, is carried back to the hospital and resumes his murderous hobby.

Every time I review a serialized TV show like this, I end up complaining about serialized storytelling. It's not my fault that so many modern TV shows have mediocre pacing! In “Just Let Go,” the mess of “Chucky's” subplots squish together. The tension between Junior and his dad, or the intrigue around Lexy's mom being the mayor: Seriously, who gives a shit? This is most evident when the teens' parents get into an argument/fist fight in the hospital waiting room. It's all such obvious filler. Even Detective Evans, who is at least connected to the plot points we care about, is hard to get invested in. Largely because Rachel Casseus is so boring.

“Just Let Go” remains more compelling when focused on the possessed doll and his immediate underlings. When Chucky tries to convince Jake to murder Lexy is a suspenseful scene, with the burned-up mansion making for a decent setting. (Though it remains to be seen if Lexy, a perpetually hateful bitch, can be made sympathetic.) The flashbacks to the seventies, following a teenage Charles Lee Ray in an orphanage, don't provide much insight into how his murderous urges grew. It's still neat backstory. Minor characters being introduced simply to keep the once-an-episode murder quota going is slightly sloppy. Here, a dumb-ass cop shows up is introduced just to drag Chucky to the hospital and then get killed. While I was hopeful “Chucky” could keep up with the film's production values, the seams are starting to show on the special effects here. Intermediate episodes like this are what drag shows like this down for me, even if the appearance from Chucky's trademark hand gesture got a big laugh out of me. [6/10]