Halloween 2023: October 28th

Suitable Flesh (2023)

Of the horror filmmakers to emerge out of the 2000s, Joe Lynch has never gotten the level of exposure of his contemporaries. The mainstream notoriety of Eli Roth and Rob Zombie or the critical respect of Ti West or Lucky McKee have eluded him. His “Wrong Turn” sequel got the attention of slasher sickos and “Mayhem” was well received by the Shudder crowd. But “Knights of Badassdom” and “Chillerama” were fiascos. (I liked “Everly” but I don't think it was widely seen.) This year, Lynch has come the closest to attracting both cult acclaim and glowing reviews with “Suitable Flesh.” A very loose adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft's “The Thing on the Doorstep,” the film is largely a homage to the Lovecraft adaptations of Stuart Gordon. This is most evident in Barbara Crampton appearing in a supporting role, directly connecting this film to the likes of “Re-Animator” and “From Beyond.”

Dr. Elizabeth Derby has ended up in a mental institution, raving about being pursued. Her close friend, Dr. Daniella Upton, attempts to figure out what brought Derby to this place. A psychiatrist, Derby began impulsively seeing a young man named Asa Waite. Waite claims his elderly father is abusing him and seems to have split personalities, triggered by violent seizures. The boy fascinates Elizabeth and she soon begins a love affair with him, unbeknownst to her dim husband. During sex with Asa, Elizabeth experiences swapping bodies with the boy. She soon realizes that Asa's perverse, manipulative father is a sorcerer who has discovered a way to swap his soul into different bodies. Elizabeth soon finds herself trapped in Asa's body, while the villainous Waite patriarch conspires to take over the doctor's life.

“Suitable Flesh” has been repeatedly referred to as a homage to the disreputable genre of nineties erotic thrillers. Though dismissed as little more than smut at the time, the lack of eroticism and films genuinely made for adults in modern cinema has made a lot of people nostalgic for these faptastic late night potboilers of old. Lynch and cinematographer David Matthews do an admirable job of instantly capturing the look and feel of these films here. There's a soft focus quality to “Suitable Flesh's” images, making the entire movie feel like a misty erotic daydream. The sets and lighting both seem pretty cheap yet there's also stylish camera movements and some nice use of shadows, suggesting an attempt by low-budget filmmakers to capture the look of a classier production. Like those jerk-off movies of days past, “Suitable Flesh” is heavy on the humping and explicit talk but rarely feels actually sexy. The dark plot and exaggerated performances leads the sex to feeling somewhat uncomfortable, despite the obvious titillating appeal. That's an oddly specific mixture to capture so accurately, revealing Lynch and his teams to be real students of this particular subgenre. 

By harkening back to a type of film so closely associated with the nineties, “Suitable Flesh” brings other cast-offs from that decade to mind. Despite the presence of Crampton and Steve Moore's score doing a decent job of aping Richard Band, this doesn't feel much like an Empire Pictures production. What it resembles instead are the films Stuart Gordon made for Full Moon a little while later, like “The Pit and the Pendulum” and “Castle Freak.” You see this in the limited sets, pointing towards the low budget, and the somewhat flat lighting. It looks like a direct-to-video, Charles Band production from the days when that actually meant something. There's no killer puppets or Romanian castles but Lynch does add a rubber monster of a sorts, that doesn't appear in Lovecraft's narrative. Moreover, the movie's dedication to giving the audience some flesh, some blood, and in an attractive and quick-paced package is what most captures the feel of Gordon and Band's best collaborations. And if you doubt its bonafides any further, Brian Yunza is a producer on this one. 

I read “The Thing on the Doorsteps” a very long time ago but remember thinking it was one of Howard Philip's better ones. Even with my vague recollection, I can tell “Suitable Flesh” is a loose adaptation. Most prominently, Lynch's film switches the genders of the lead characters. The protagonist is now female while the lover caught up in a body-swapping scheme is now male. Much like Gordon's Lovecraft films, Lynch mostly just takes the premise of the story and does his own thing with it. (Such as including nods towards Lovecraft's wider mythology.) However, the theme of ancient familial shame being passed – forcibly, like a curse – onto a younger generation is very true to the spirit of Lovecraft's work. While Lovecraft never intentionally invoked the concept of “body horror,” the soul-swapping premise of “Suitable Flesh” presents a tantalizing sense of discomfort with the human form. A lack of ownership over our own bodies, beginning as bone-twisting seizures, connects with the cosmic horror the author was most famous for. If the universe is indifferent to human achievement, than our fleshy skin-suits are definitely not going to obey our wispy, weak souls. Like the best works by and inspired by H.P., “Suitable Flesh” opens up the mind with its far-out ideas. I would love to read a trans person's take on this story.

If Stuart Gordon and his crew had made “Suitable Flesh” back in 1992, Barbara Crampton almost certainly would have starred. Instead, Crampton is in the part of the Lovecraftian narrator, the sane (wo)man who has to listen to her insane friend deliver a tale of sanity-shattering woe. Crampton butches it up with a lot of attitude, proving once again that she's one of those actors who can do anything with nothing. Heather Graham – who starred in a late occurring erotic thriller herself, though she passes the nudity clause onto a body double here – stars as Derby. Graham has a certain shakiness to her, an anxious shade to even her most committed moments, that makes her well-suited to someone swept up in a bizarre conspiracy. Judah Lewis as Asa is the film's real find, as he seamlessly leaps between different personalities, never letting the audience mistakes Asa's actual personality for his possessed side. Everyone does a good job of playing these variant characters. Even if a nicely over-the-top Bruce Davison was probably a replacement for Jeffrey Combs. 

“Suitable Flesh” is never as funny, crazy, or intense as Gordon's classic Lovecraft movies. That is, admittedly, a harsh rubric to grade any film against. The film drags a little in the middle and never quite hits the fever pitch of gory, sexy insanity it's clearly aiming for. Yet Lynch's latest is still highly entertaining, with a well executed and flashy premise, a decent cast, and a watchful eye towards capturing the tone of what came before. Hopefully the relative success of this one will get Lynch some more exposure. He's a quality Twitter and Letterboxd follow and seems like a nice guy. As for “Suitable Flesh,” falling short of all-time classics like “Re-Animator” or “From Beyond” means this is still a pretty juicy cut of meat by any other standard. [7/10]

Vampyres (1974)

Of all the classic monster archetypes, it seems the vampire is the one most amendable to a queer reading. I am referring to, of course, the lesbian vampire subgenre. It's not too difficult to tell why this premise has proliferated so much over the years, after Sheridan le Fanu more-or-less introduced it with “Carmilla.” The vampire, feeding on the sleeping by sucking their blood from a bite in the neck, has an inherently sexual aspect to it that's been unavoidable for years. When the idea of girl-on-girl feeding arises, it adds even more titillation to the premise. One can't avoid certain tendencies in older ages to assign monstrous qualities to queer people, a concept which has been largely reclaimed by those in the LGBT+ community as a badge of mutual societal outersiderdom. But anyway, there's lots of lesbian and bisexual vampire movies out there. One such example is 1974's “Vampyres,” a cult favorite from Spanish director José Ramón Larraz.

Out in the English countryside, resides a stately but abandoned manor. Inside, dwell two mysterious women by the name of Fran and Miriam. The women often lure travelling motorists from the near-by road to the house, where they satisfy their sexual cravings with them... Before satisfying their hunger for blood, slashing their wrists and sucking the life out of them. Ted is one such victim, which Fran takes a particular liking too. (Even though Miriam is also her lover.) John and Harriet are two travelers who spot the girls from the road. Harriet finds herself strangely drawn to the pair and is soon sucked into their world of darkness, sex, and murder. 

From the moment “Vampyres'” grainy visuals begin, I was hooked by it. While Larraz was a Spaniard, “Vampyres” is dripping with foggy, English ambiance. The central home – Oakley Court, a frequent location in Hammer movies – is a dusty and imposing figure in the countryside. The trees entomb the surroundings, the road being the only link to civilization. The interiors of the home are rich with shadows, dust, and cobwebs. A shot of Fran descending into the wine cellar, lighting the way with a candelabra, says it all. The film invites us into a dreamy, gothic netherworld, the realm of bloodsucking beauties like Fran and Miriam. Another review refers to “Vampyres” as a Jean Rollin film played straight, which is an apt description. The film even has a funky, psych-rock score. It really is like someone took away the overt surrealism and campy humor from a Rollin film, leaving a more accessible but no less intoxicating love letter to graveyards and abandoned homes behind. 

Naturally, if you remove the dream logic from a Rollin set-up, you'll basically be left with a porn film. Within seconds of “Vampyres” starting, we're treated to a girl-on-girl love scene. There's literally boobs in the third shot of the film. Marianne Morris and Anulka – Playboy Playmate of May 1973 – are often undressed, among the film's multiple, hairy, sweaty sex scenes. The lovemaking in “Vampyres” is especially mouthy. Ted thrusts his open mouth against Fran's, with lots of tongue action between all the partners. I can't help but feel this was intentional. These vampires seek to consume their victims. They notably don't have fangs. Instead, they cut the men open and suck their blood out the natural way. Late in the film, they lunge towards the camera, mouths agape, as if they are about to consume us too. “Vampyres” is clearly a film of such overwhelming passion that its characters can't help but shove their targets right into their mouths. Or maybe Larraz just had a vore kink, I don't know. 

Puerile titillation is undeniably the goal in “Vampyre,” the camera clearly luxuriating in the bodies on-screen. However, the bisexual lady vampire is a symbol rich with other meanings. Fran and Miriam use men only as objects, fucking, killing, and draining them before discarding them along the side of the road. All the guys, from the surly Ted to a clueless wine connoisseur that appears in the last act, are helpless against their charms. From the moment Harriet sees the women, she can't stop thinking about them. Her uncaring, oblivious husband dismisses her fears and worries, even though he seems more than willing to accept any factoid or conversation from a fellow man. When Miriam and Fran get Harriet alone, they claim to recognize her and beckon her towards them. The lady vampires live in a sexually liberated, matriarchal shadow world and Harriet can clearly see the appeal. It's a shame this idea is thrown away by the film's abrupt, blunt ending. 

“Vampyres'” mix of casual eroticism, potent ideas, and oozing gothic ambiance would naturally make it a favorite of Eurohorror fans. Also unsurprising, the film would often be edited and censored by boards of decency around the globe. Luckily, us perverted Americans have had the uncut version right from the beginning. God bless America and exploitation film distributors. Anyway, “Vampyres” is pretty fun in its sleazy, atmospheric way. Larraz would direct several other notable genre films, even if he's not as well known as his fellow Eurohorror auteurs. Neither of its leading ladies did much other acting, though Marriane Morris was also appeared in the “Beasts” episode I just watched earlier in the month. Yeah, she was the naked girl in that too. [7/10]

The Twilight Zone (2019): The Who of You

Of all the versions of “The Twilight Zone” that I've watched over the years, the 2019, Jordan Peele hosted iteration seems to foreground social commentary and meta twists the most. Yet, even if it rarely lived up to expectations, the show did occasional grab a banger premise. “The Who of You,” from the second season, follows Harry Pine, an out-of-work actor who fears his girlfriend is going to leave him. Desperate after his apartment's power is turned off, he decides to rob the bank. While asking the clerk to hand over the cash, Harry's mind switches bodies with the woman. Shortly after that, he does the same with a cop on the scene. Realizing he's develop a supernatural ability, Harry uses it to escape the cops and hold onto the money. The schemes hits a snag after he leaves the cash in the shop of a sham psychic. The detective on the case, Reece, is slowly figuring out what's going on as well.

We've all wondered what it might be like to walk in someone else's shoes. “The Who of You” runs with this idea, Harry dropping into someone else's body just by looking them in the eyes. When you've suddenly turned to a life of crime, such a superpower also allows you to escape persecution easily. Probably the episode's best moment occurs when the cops start to question Harry, in a random jogger's body. He leaps across several people on a street, until he arrives in the body of an old man entering an apartment building. “The Who of You” doesn't get too deep into the mechanics of its set-up. Whenever Harry switches with someone, the stolen identity goes right back into his body as his mind goes into their's. I guess consciousness swapping across multiple persons, leaving a complex, “Futurama” style web of transferences in its path, might have been too much to ask of for a forty minute show.

Then again, this is “The Twilight Zone,” right? Isn't exploring interesting ideas in unexpected and thought-out ways what it is suppose to do? “The Who of You” doesn't go for much in the way of depth. Instead, it's simply a compelling chase story. We watch Harry switch bodies on his quest to get away from the authorities and hold onto his ill-gotten goods. All the while, he's outrunning the law. He has to think quick on his feet to wiggle out of tight situations. It's a thrilling enough premise to watch unfold. Even if I doubt that Reece would be able to understand what was going on as quickly as he does. Then again, if he didn't, the episode would have missed out on its tidy climax. Perhaps pointing towards some of the lack of ambition in this episode in general.

That Harry never considers the ethical questions around such an ability, and immediately uses it to pursue his own goals, suggests he's not a very good person. Indeed, “The Who of You” almost plays like the origin story of a supervillain. Ethan Embry plays the guy not so much as someone at the end of his rope, as someone looking for an easy way out. (Embry does a good job of assuming the different body languages of whoever is possessing Harry's body at any time.) “The Twilight Zone” being what it is, you're expecting this to build towards an ending where the asshole gets what's coming to him. Instead, the episode includes a twist that the audience sees coming way before the characters in the episode do. It's a disappointing ending to an episode that, even if it lacked much in the way of social commentary or heady ideas, was at least an interesting idea executed in a fairly compelling manner. [6/10]

Viola vs. The Vampire King (2017)

Super-8 film may be a totally outdated format to shoot a movie in. Yet the gritty, lo-fi quality brings a certain charm with it, that has been appreciated in a number of super-low budget, home-grown projects over the years. To the point that even more modern filmmakers have taken advantage of this quality. Such as “Viola Vs. the Vampire King,” a seven minute short shot in 2017 by filmmaker Kevin Fermini. The premise, summed up in the title, goes like so: Viola's sister has been taken by the Vampire King of Spider Web Forest. She heads into the forest, armed with a katana, to get revenge and rescued her sister. The vampire king proves harder to kill than that and Viola will have to seek out help if she hopes to complete this mission. 

I tend to associate Super-8 with monster kids making wacky home movies in their backyard. I suspect Fermini has that association too, as “Viola Vs. the Vampire King” is clearly seeking to capture an unhinged, youthful energy. This is reflected in Viola's girly-girl dialogue and the short's loose plot, that feels like it could've been thought up on the spot. Most importantly, the film adopts a chaotic, highly stylized visual approach. There's colorful overlays over multiple scenes, like the kind of construction paper border you'd expect a kid to cut out. This is combined with some erratic editing and a trippy, reverberating score. Colorful lighting, clearly influenced by Bava, further adds to this highly exaggerated, comic book-like tone. 

The effects are purposely, extremely lo-fi. Halloween decorations are used for props throughout. The entire short is set within a random stretch of forest, which could be anyone's backyard. Crude stop-motion is used, whenever the Vampire King is reassembling himself or melting away into a skeleton. The sound effects are intentionally scratchy, the lighting is washed-out, the film grain is gritty. Yet it's also a lot of fun, going along with this home-made spirit. I'm not surprised that Bleeding Skull, among others, would champion this. It's got heart and energy and that counts for a lot. [7/10]

Halloween 2023: October 27th

Angel Heart (1987)

Crossover between horror and the film noir genres was almost inevitable. After all, it's right there in the name. Noir explores the darker sides of human instincts, similar to how horror is devoted to the macabre and grotesque. Even in the genre's hay day, films that straddled the line between both definitions existed. Yet maybe the most acclaimed horror/noir would arrive long after the golden age. Alan Parker's "Angel Heart" would generate controversy in 1987, the presence of at-the-time squeaky clean sitcom star Lisa Bonet in a graphic sex scene receiving a lot of undue attention. In the decades since, the movie would be appreciated more on its own merits, some even ranking it among the best horror movies made. 

In 1955, New York private detective Harry Angel is hired by the mysterious, sinister Louis Cyphre. Cyphre is seeking crooner Johnny Favourite, who supposedly owes him something. Angel uncovers that Favourite disappeared after the war, vanishing under mysterious circumstances from a mental hospital following extensive surgery. The path soon leads Angel to the New Orleans bayou, where he's embroiled in a world of black magic and voodoo. Violent, ritualistic deaths begin to follow Angel around. The closer he gets to locating Favourite, the more Harry begins to question his own past. 

A lot like the horror film, noir is a genre with tropes often explored and subverted. Harry Angel is an archetypal, filmic P.I. in a lot of ways. He's a hard-boiled detective, who's smooth with the ladies and motivated by money, but quickly finds himself in over his head. The way he's constantly getting attacked and beaten up in the second half of the film almost feels like a deliberate parody of the noir detective character type. "Angel Heart" has its femme fatales, family secrets, and conniving crime bosses too. Yet the film's mixture of black magic and mystery points towards something even darker. "Angel Heart" sees its protagonist descending further into the darkness of his own shadowy past as he comes closer to uncovering the truth. The film's primary twist is not too hard to guess. Yet watching Angel put the clues together, his own sanity cracking up as the bloody facts present themselves, is a captivating ride into the darkness of the mind, clouded with forbidden desires and unspeakable secrets. 

To achieve this effect, Parker creates a suitably ominous ambiance. "Angel Heart" operates as a seemingly straightforward detective story for its first half. Yet there's an eeriness from the first frame, present in Michael Seresin's cinematography and Trevor Jones' score. From the opening shot of stray cats lingering in an alley way, to the reoccurring motif of Angel descending through a rickety elevator, “Angel Heart” has an unsettling energy throughout. As the film goes on, this only increasing. Through multiple nightmare sequences, which carry the visual language of a vision induced by a religious frenzy, “Angel Heart” creates more unsettling images. The scenes of violence are especially intense, bloody moments imposing on a reality without center. This peaks during the infamous sex scene, where water dripping from the ceiling provides an unsettling pulse to a lovemaking session that quickly turns into an act of bloody, ritual magic. 

“Angel Heart” is based on William Hjortsberg's novel, “Falling Angel,” which is set entirely in New York City. By moving the back half of the story to New Orleans, the film introduces a stronger element of culture class to the story. As he searches for Johnny Favourite, he comes across a young woman named Epiphany, who is involved in the local voodoo community. This pushes Angel into a world he's not familiar or comfortable with, further emphasized by his phobia of chickens. (Whose feet are a symbol in voodoo.) The frenzy of voodoo rituals are contrasted with Pentecostal baptisms as well. While on the way to New Orleans, Harry also sits on a segregated bus. It all feeds into this idea of stepping in and out of racial, religious, and maybe even sexual boundaries, as Angel has a manipulative, patronizing relationship with women. As the film winds towards its pitch black conclusion, the idea emerges that “Angel Heart” is a movie about all the things a white man can get away with until he finally get his just desserts. 

Maybe “Angel Heart's” greatest contribution to pop culture, at least from my perspective, is that it's maybe the most prominent example of a Satanic character appearing in human form with a punny name like “Lou Cyphre.” In all seriousness, Robert DeNiro is chilling in the role. His ability to pack as much sinister intent into any line, or an activity as simple as peeling a hardboiled egg, really goes a long way. As Angel, Mickey Rourke is cast exactly to type. Outwardly charming, inwardly pathetic, and perfectly at home in a gritty crime story setting, Rourke is exactly what the part calls for. For all the hubbub that her casting generated, Lisa Bonet does bring the right balance of sensuality and innocence to the role of Epiphany. 

Assuming you don't count “The Wall,” “Angel Heart” would be Alan Parker's sole attempt at horror. Which is a shame, as he clearly showed an aptitude for it. “Angel Heart” has an effectively eerie atmosphere to it, paired with a compelling script and some thoughtful ideas. The performances are strong, the violence is shocking, the sex is steamy, and the cinematography is brilliant. It builds towards a great example how much more than a scrolling list of names an end credits sequence can be. Creepy as a supernatural thriller and gripping as a neo-noir exercise, “Angel Heart” is rightfully regarded as a cult classic of eighties filmmaking. [8/10]

The Man Who Reclaimed His Head (1934)

Of the handful of actors who played monsters in Universal's classic horror films, most went on to careers largely characterized by genre work. Karloff, Lugosi, and Chaney Jr. would all be most remembered for their macabre roles. Yet what of Claude Rains? Rains' break-out performance as “The Invisible Man” would forever link him to the classic horror period. However, Rains would resist being typecast, eventually coming to equal fame for key roles in all-time classics like “Casablanca,” “Lawrence of Arabia,” “Adventures of Robin Hood,” and “Notorious.” Which isn't to say there wasn't an attempt to push Rains as a horror star, especially by Universal. After all, he would also play the Phantom of the Opera and the Wolf Man's dad. You can see the studio trying to mold Rains into a monster star with “The Man Who Reclaimed His Head,” a grim anti-war drama from 1934 that the studio tried to sell as a horror movie. 

In 1915, Paris is besieged by World War I. Writer Paul Verin carries his daughter and a mysterious black bag through the ruined streets, arriving at his attorney's house. That's when the contents of the bag are revealed: A severed human head. Verin then relates the events that led him here: Five years earlier, he lived happily with his wife, Adele. In need of money, Paul is convinced to anonymously provide anti-war articles to aspiring politician Henry Dumont. Paul's words make Dumont a popular candidate. As war looms, Dumont dismisses Verin's philosophies, making deals with weapon manufactures and espousing pro-war views. Dumont gets Paul sent off to the front and attempts to steal his wife. When Paul discovers the deception, he seeks bloody revenge.

To call “The Man Who Reclaimed His Head” a horror film is definitely a stretch, despite the lurid posters Universal's marketing department cooked up. It is, largely, a character driven drama with a heavy anti-war film. However, the movie isn't totally without interest for classic horror aficionado. In addition to starring Rains, Lionel Atwill also appears as Dumont. Considering he's playing the story's villain, one can't help but be reminded of Atwill's various bad guy roles in horror classics. The gruesome prop at the story's center is always kept off-screen, though there's no doubt about what it is. However, the sequence where Rains appears to “reclaim” his head is stylishly directed. Verin appears in the corner of a room, his face bathed in more and more shadows as he approaches the panicking Dumont. The focus remains on the terrified or mad faces as the scene escalates, before climaxing with screams and an exploding window. If the script and direction emphasized Paul's descent into madness and eventual decision to commit violent murder, it would be much easier to justify this one's occasional classification as a horror movie. 

However, that is simply not the movie “The Man Who Reclaimed His Head” is. No, this is staunchly an anti-war drama. Or, rather, a drama about how politicians will say whatever will get them elected. Dumont parrots Verin's anti-war views because it happens to be popular in the early 1910s. However, he's secretly talking with weapon manufactures behind Paul's back. At one point, Dumont even claims that modern weaponry is merciful, as it will make war quicker and death less torturous. Considering audiences in 1934 were well aware of how the Great War played out, the irony in that statement couldn't be more vicious. The minute being pro-war ceases to be popular – or, more accurately, profitable – Dumont abandons these views. Paul is later beaten by a mob after expressing his pacifist viewpoint to a crowd fired up by Dumont's rhetoric. The film's point is not subtle. Politicians who support war are usually motivated by greed. The voters are often blinded by words about patriotism. All are indifferent to the actual death caused by combat. 

This observation was surely relevant in 1934, five years before the start of World War II, and remains potent today. Whatever bluntness the message may have is smoothed over by the strong performances. Rains – an actual veteran, who owed his trademark gravelly voice to a war injury – is unfailingly sincere as Paul. He is uncharacteristically soft-spoken in the role, expressing his opinions with a genuine sense of feeling. When Paul hears Dumont speaking his words, the little smirk Rains cracks is really something. Atwill, meanwhile, is very effective as the utterly feckless Dumont, a spineless politician that is all too recognizable. Joan Bennett is also good as Adele, a woman who deeply loves her husband but has insecurities and frustrations of her own. 

The strong performances largely make up for “The Man Who Reclaimed His Head's” fairly stagey presentation. Most of the movie is made-up of people standing around and talking. Even when it moves to the European Front, the film remains focused on terse conversations and meaningful stares. Unsurprisingly, “The Man Who Reclaimed His Head” began life as a play, which also starred Rains. The play was not successful, so one assumes Rains cashed in a lot of his “Invisible Man” good will to get this adaptation made. The film version was not successful either and one imagines Universal's macabre posters, getting audiences to expect a mad scientist movie, didn't help any. While it's unlikely to satisfy anyone's inner monster kid, “The Man Who Reclaimed His Head” is a well acted and effective, if somewhat mannered, drama. And any movie that features decapitation as a plot point can, if you squint, be suitable October viewing. [6/10]

Bloodride: Ultimate Sacrifice

I don't know if we're in a new golden age for horror anthology shows. However, the format is clearly popular among streaming services. And not just in the English-speaking sphere. “Bloodride” is a Norwegian series that debuted on Netflix in 2020. The debut episode, “Ultimate Sacrifice,” centers on Molly. She's moved into a dilapidated house in the country, at her husband Leon's insistence. She hates the isolation and finds the overly friendly neighbor – who always have their pets with them – unsettling. She soon discovers the secret behind this practice. There's an ancient stone in the woods. If an animal is sacrificed upon the rock, good luck will come to the person who does the killing. Molly quickly seeks to take advantage of this but finds out there's a certain condition tied with its use: How much luck the sacrifice brings is proportional to how much you love what's being sacrificed. 

“Bloodride” lacks a Cryptkeeper style host. Instead, its framing device is a creepy bus, a different passenger exiting the vehicle at the start of each episode and setting up the story. Despite that, “Ultimate Sacrifice” clearly operates under the same sort of twisted morals as those E.C. Comics stories. When Molly is informed of the stone's magical powers by a pair of old ladies in the neighborhood, they tell her not to get too greedy. She, of course, ignores this warning. When a rat only produces a fifty dollar lottery ticket, she decides to kill the family dog. Even this results in a merely four digit monetary win. It's not too hard to predict where this is headed. Or that Molly's willingness to trade flesh-and-blood for cold, hard cash is going to result in a suitably ironic punishment. 

Nevertheless, “Ultimate Sacrifice” is well told. There's an amusingly cockeyed tone established from the minute the weirdo neighbors, with their constantly present animal companions, appear. This odd-ball sense of humor carries through the grimmer scenes of Molly killing animals and her disappointment when it doesn't exactly pay out for her. There's definitely a dark humor in the way Molly is immediately consumed by greed upon hearing about the magic rock. This same morbid comedy is reflected in the ironic ending, which is nicely set up and paid off. The episode is well acted and directed as well, Ine Marie Wilmann striking the right tone as a protagonist relatable enough that you are willing to follow her but also despicable enough that you don't mind seeing the fallout of her choices. It's pretty good and I think I'll be giving “Bloodride” another look. And if you have to ask: Nah, I wouldn't sacrifice any pets of mine. Sorry, I'm too much of a softie when it comes to animals. [7/10]

Great Choice (2017)

The term “analog horror” was coined in 2017 in the Local 58 video, “Station ID.” Showing that parallel inspiration was in the air at the time, a notable non-internet example of the genre would break out the same year. “Great Choice” begins seemingly as a Red Lobster commercial from the nineties, advertising a special on shrimp. A woman orders the thirty shrimp, the waiter tells her she made a great choice, and it's advertised that a kids meal is only 2.99. Afterwards, the commercial begins again, the characters slowly becoming aware of the loop they are trapped in. When the woman refuses to say her line, the increasingly unhinged waiter attacks her. The commercial grows more warped with every repetition, the woman getting increasingly desperate to escape the seafood filled nightmare she has found herself in. 

The aesthetic that so clearly define “analog horror” as a subgenre was surely only beginning to crystalize in 2017. Yet “Great Choice” is such a clear example of it. The film closely imitates a real Red Lobster commercial, accurately recreating the look and feel of this particular piece of discarded pop culture detritus. The VHS scanlines, gritty quality, and static between scenes tickles the nostalgia bones of anybody who grew up in that decade. Yet these comforting clichés are quickly subverted. Disturbing images are briefly glimpsed in the static. The growing confusion and awkwardness among the performers slowly becomes apparent. When the violence breaks out, it's startling and sudden, this gentle commercial begetting a disturbing depiction of domestic abuse. As “Great Choice” goes on, it alternates between VHS quality and clearer definition, the inane commercial prater growing more sinister and distorted. The film's content grows gorier, more intense, and more surreal as it goes on. By the end, “Great Choice” has totally mutated warm VHS calmness into something more unsettling. 

While found footage is probably the most obvious predecessor to analog horror, the subgenre is also heavily influenced by the weird shit Adult Swim would show late at night. “Too Many Cooks” is another important precursor, after all. This was obviously what “Great Choice” was going for, as the film is equal parts horrific and bizarrely funny. The idea of people in a commercial growing increasingly aware of the stiltedness of their scenario is better exploited for humor than horror. The film's bizarre sights – wobbling mannequins and a waiter inexplicably twerking in the background – invoke chuckles as much as they do nightmare logic. The clearest indicator of humor in “Great Choice” is the increasingly garbled commercial narration. Hearing the incessantly chipper ad-speak get weirder and more chopped-up, while the words change to carry a distressing message, couldn't help but make me laugh. The absurd can be used for both chills and chuckles and “Great Choice” clearly understands that. 

Perhaps because “Too Many Cooks” was clearly an evisceration of sitcom nostalgia, “Great Choice” ultimately goes for a different idea. The final scene provides a clearer meaning to what just happened, putting the pointless catchphrases of the commercial in a totally different context. While I'm not sure what exactly we're meant to gather from this, considering the retro commercial setting of most of the short, it does make for a striking ending. “Great Choice” was only viewable at film festivals for years, as director Robin Comisar was worried the real Red Lobster might sue him. Fans of Carrie Coon – who plays the imperiled woman – were eager to uncover the movie and it finally surfaced online last year. I'm glad I got a chance to watch this one, as it's a really well done example of the buzziest type of horror right now. And I'm certainly never going to look at a Red Lobster the same way again. [7/10]

Halloween 2023: October 26th

Transylvania 6-5000 (1985)

Many moons ago, my best buddy JD bought a four-pack of horror comedies on DVD. I was pretty sure the set was put out by Anchor Bay but apparently it was an Image release. Anyway, the movie included in the set were “Elvira, Mistress of the Dark,” “Return of the Killer Tomatoes,” “House II: The Second Story,” and “Transylvania 6-5000.” While the first three made frequent appearances in our college dorm room DVD player, I never actually bothered watching the last one. I've always been curious about “Transylvania 6-5000,” however, largely because it has a fairly stacked cast of beloved eighties performers. The sole theatrically released directorial credit of frequent Mel Brooks collaborator Rudy De Luca, the monster mash comedy has picked up a very small cult following over the years. 

Sleazy tabloid The Sensation is sent footage from Transylvania that seems to depict Frankenstein's monster. Writer Jack Harrison is skeptical but his partner Gil – the son of the paper's owner – is eager to investigate. The two travel to Transylvania, where their concerns are quickly dismissed by Mayor Lepescu. However, while staying at a local hotel, they notice how eccentric the staff is. While Jack romances a local named Elizabeth, Gil is seemingly haunted by a sexy vampire. The duo soon get on the trail of Dr. Malaqaqua, a local physician who seems to be keeping a whole horde of classic monsters in his asylum... Including a large, muted, flat-headed brute.

Given his connections to Brooks and Marty Feldman, one can't help but assume that Rudy De Luca was inspired by “Young Frankenstein.” While that film was a loving homage to Universal's “Frankenstein” series, parodying many specific scenes, “Transylvania 6-5000” is more of a generic riff on classic monster tropes. In addition to a shambling flesh golem, the film includes a vampire, some hunchbacks, a mad scientist, a mummy, a wolfman, and a fortune teller. However, the monster themselves are rarely the butts of the jokes. The hairy lycanthrope having a Brooklyn accent and a foul mouth ranks as one of the film's more biting gags. There's a few silly spoofs on Browning's “Dracula” and a minor gag about hearing a monster in the bushes. For the most part though, “Transylvania 6-5000” seems less invested in mashing its monsters together than you might expect from the title.

Instead, the film devises humor mostly from the antics of its cast. Jeff Goldblum and Ed Begley Jr. star as Jack and Gil. The two have a nice rapport, recalling classic comedy teams. Goldblum, despite his twitchy screen persona already being established by this point, is actually the straight man of the duo. Begley, meanwhile, is the goofy one who gets multiple pratfalls to himself. However, the duo makes it work. Especially during a scene where Begley interrupt Jack while on a phone call with his love interest. Or Jeff's snide one-liners while Ed attempts to sneak in and out of a lunatic asylum. The quirky energy of these two, and especially the way their individual vibes compliment each other, keeps “Transylvania 6-5000” afloat.

Instead of subverting monster movie tropes, De Luca's film largely depends on its supporting cast mugging it up to extreme degrees. A pre-”Seinfeld” Michael Richards appears as Fejos, the exceedingly eccentric bellhop. Richards' manic slapstick is often overbearing but he does get one or two laughs. John Byner and Carol Kane are the married couple hunchbacks, the two bickering in the kitchen being far funnier than you'd expect largely because both are so good at playing lisping weirdos. On the opposite end of the spectrum is Joseph Bologna as Dr. Malavaqua, whose frequent screaming and hamminess is far more irritating than amusing. Jeffrey Jones gets one or two chuckles, especially when grappling with an alligator shaped phone. Geena Davis is one of the performers most committed to mimicking monster movie antics, sporting a pretty good Lugosi accent. Though her plunging neckline admittedly draws more attention.

The production background of “Transylvania 6-5000” might be interesting than its actual content. The film was largely funded by the Dow Chemical Company, because Yugoslavian law dictated that any funds the company made in that country had to be spent within Yugoslavia. Admittedly, the genuine Eastern European locations are a big attribute of the movie. The film was a modest box office success, making seven million against a three million budget, but the reviews were brutal. The next year, another Mel Brooks collaborator would make a different classic horror spoof. “Haunted Honeymoon” got played on cable a lot more than this one, though I'm not sure it's any better. I doubt I'll feel the need to revisit “Transylvania 6-5000” anytime soon, even if it did make me chuckle a handful of times. It's a mildly amusing but ultimately extremely minor comedy. The theme song is a good addition to anyone's Halloween playlist, so it's got that much going for it. [6/10]

All the Colors of the Dark (1972)

Tutti i colori del buio

Last year, I dipped my toes into the Sergio Martino pool for the first time. When it comes to the most respected directors of Italian horror movies, Martino is usually ranked way up there, just below the Trinity of Argento, Bava, and Fulci. I had never seen any of his movies before finally watching “Torso” during the previous Halloween Blog-a-Thon. I enjoyed it, without quite being blown away by it. Martino has a whole slate of beloved gialli to choose from after that, each one with equally salacious titles. While “All the Colors of the Dark” maybe doesn't have the most obtuse title of Martino's career, it is a memorably poetic one. So much so that Tim Lucas stole it for his tome-like biography of Bava. I'll admit, that connection was the main reason pushing me to check this one out. Sometimes that's all you need when selecting what to watch during this time of year, ya know?

Following a miscarriage causing car crash, Jane's mental state is in tatters. Her sister recommends a psychiatrist and her boyfriend, Richard, believes she just needs to get over it. Neither solution is helping Jane, who is being haunted by visions of a man with piercing blue eyes. Soon, this stranger begins to pursue – and attacker – her in real life. This is when, on the recommendation of her neighbor, Jane seeks out another solution: Joining an occult coven that promises to cleanse her of her fears at the price of giving herself over to the circle. This does little to calm Jane's mind and soon she's questioning what is and isn't real... While the bodies start to pile up. 

The giallo genre is, of course, defined by stylishly directed attack scenes perhaps more than anything else. "All the Colors of the Dark" certainly has those in spades. Ivan Rassinov, wearing striking blue contact lens, makes a threatening presence from the minute he appears on-screen. When he attacks Jane in her darkened apartment, swinging a hatchet at her over the bannister of stairway, it actually got a jump out of me. A sequence in the second half, in which Rassinov attacks with a switchblade, makes use of repeating visuals and psychedelic sounds. Even if the film ends with the typically cheesy sight of an obvious mannequin falling off a building, Martino manages to orchestrate some tense stalk-and-slash scenarios. 

"All the Colors of the Dark's" willingness to get a lot weirder than your typical giallo is established from its first scene. After the titles appear over a picturesque sunset, we are assaulted with bizarre and disturbing images from Jane's nightmares. A sneering old woman and Jane's pregnant belly in an alter-like operating room, frantically edited, makes you wonder what the hell you're in for right away. This dream-like atmosphere persists throughout. Even after the threat is seemingly vanquished, we are greeted to dreamy scenes of Jane emerging from the emergency room. When paired with a very groovy score from Bruno Nicolai and stylish cinematography from Giancarlo Fernando – which, yes, is quite colorful at times – the film successfully captures a surreal feeling. 

Even by 1972, the trademarks of the giallo were well established. This was already Martino's fifth entry into the subgenre, to give you an idea of how commonplace it already was. You can see, perhaps, the director trying to spice things up here. Not just by increasing the psychedelic angle but by introducing a coven of witches into the typical murder mystery set-up. The black sabbath scenes skillfully combine the eroticism common to the giallo with a sinister energy that wouldn't be out-of-place in "Rosemary's Baby." (The likely inspiration.) These scenes sprinkled occult symbols – the long, demon-like nails on the cult leader's fingers, a Masonic like emblem of an eye inside the pyramid – that further establish this mood of Satanic decadence. Jane is slipping into a weirdo netherworld of group magik and murder, where the line between reality and dreams blur. Enough attention is paid to the occult genuines to make the audience feel a little bit of that too. 

Like every giallo, "All the Colors of the Dark" has a winding plot, full of red herrings, double crosses, and last minute plot twist. Yet, by aligning the viewer so much with a heroine possibly loosing her mind, these elements become a lot more impactful. If all the dots don't quite connect, if not everything makes perfect sense, it matches Jane seeing the world through a dream-like haze. By leaping back and forth between memories, visions, and nightmares, we are left uncertain about what is and isn't real. When paired with a heaping dose of paranoia – as Jane starts to see the cult's symbol on everyone – we are left suitably shaken up. The ending seems to ground the heroine once again, promising that the terror is over now. Yet the uncertainty over what's real and what exists only in her mind is going to be a lot harder to shake than that. 

In other words, Martino manages to shake up the giallo formula nicely here by infusing it with more existential dread, some acid-like trippiness, and a bit of the ol' Satanic Panic. After "Torso" successfully interrogated the leering misogyny of the genre, it's clear that Martino was a lot more than just your standard exploitation director. (Considering how Edwige Fenech's heroine is surrounded by manipulative, unhelpful men, a feminist reading of this film isn't impossible either.) Typically, U.S. distributors didn't quite know what to do with such a European thriller as this. They retitled it "They're Coming to Get You!" and cut it into a more traditional devil worshipper movie. Luckily, Martino's original vision circulates freely now, allowing all adventurous horror fans to seek out this stylish, peculiar, head trip of a film. [8/10]

Folklore: A Mother's Love

In 2018, Asia would essentially get its own version of “Masters of Horror” with a multicultural twist. “Folklore” aired on HBO Asia that year, becoming available on HBO Max a few years later. Each episode was directed by a notable filmmaker from across the Asian continent, the stories drawing from the unique mythologies and legends of each culture. The series debut, “A Mother's Love,” also seems to be its most acclaimed episode. It comes from Joko Anwar, the lauded Indonesian director of “Satan's Slaves” and “Impetigore.” 

The episode follows Murni, a struggling single mother, and her son, Jody. She gets a job as a cleaning lady at a mansion after being kicked out of her apartment. The first night at the new location, she uncovers a group of filthy, abandoned children in the attic. Afterwards, Murni begins to see and hear strange things, Jody especially acting unusually. It soon becomes clear that she has crossed paths with Wewe Gombel, a ghostly spirit that abducts unwanted children. 

I haven't caught up with Anwar's other films, many of which seem to be critically acclaimed. “A Moher's Love” certainly suggests Anwar has some mastery at creating a gloomy, oppressive atmosphere. The scenes of Murni – played competently b Marissa Anita, who also appeared in “Impetigore” and “Gundala” – exploring the darkened and creepy attic are effective. However, I found a lot of the attempts at scares in “A Mother's Love” rather tedious. Multiple scenes pile on the loud sound effects, usually when a group of ghostly children are about to appear on-screen. I'm usually allergic to creepy kid tropes and “A Mother's Love” doesn't distinguish itself in that regard. Nightmare sequences, where Jody disappears or Murni watches a disturbing talk show, strike me as especially ham-fisted. 

Worst yet, “A Mother's Love” has an indecisive twist that is heavily foreshadowed. Very early on, hints are placed right in the open that Murni's son is either a ghost or a hallucination. The episode builds towards this obvious twist, adding more swerves along the way. However, instead of committing to this turn we all see coming, “A Mother's Love” backtracks and introduces a double-twist before the end. It all proceeds a fairly underwhelming confrontation with the antagonistic ghost. That might've been more meaningful if the entire hour hadn't been devoted to simply trying to trick the audience. That makes it hard to take “A Mother's Love” as anything but a gimmicky narrative misdirect, with some overdone attempts at scares. By the way, the mythological Wewe Gombel has enormous, pendulous breasts that she throws over her shoulders, a detail this TV episode leaves out. [5/10]

Wake (2010)

“Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched” was really a gift to horror fans. The scope of the documentary was so wide, that even experienced genre nerds were likely to discover something they hadn't heard of before. Such as “Wake,” a twenty minute long short from filmmaker Bree Newsome. Set somewhere in the Southern United States, sometime in the post-Civil War era, the film follows Charmaine. A young woman, living under a tyrannical father, she turns to local folk magik to find a way out. She summons a demon to give her the man of her dreams, who demands her father's life in exchange. A handsome doctor soon appears in the home to be her husband. However, Charmaine's dream soon turns into a nightmare as her husband proves to be just as abusive as her father was. She goes back to the demon to try and change the terms of their agreement.

I can see why “Wake” was included in “Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched.” The short is rich in the Southern traditions and culture. The narration and dialogue capture the dialect of the time and place. The concepts of folk magik, terms like root work, add more depth and authenticity tot he story. Moreover, the story “Wake” is telling feels like a classical folk story. Not just in the way it invokes pagan rituals but also in its structure. Charmaine commits an amoral act, only to have the consequences visited on her in turn. This is exactly the kind of thing that happens when you make a deal with a demon, another traditional folkloric premise. Newsome sprinkles the film with symbols that clearly have a deeper meaning – a buzzing fly, a circle of salt, a mound of dirt – without expending too much energy on explaining these ideas. “Wake” has enough respect for the viewer to assume we can figure these things out.

Newsome's direction and Adam Newport-Berra's cinematography go a long way towards establishing the heat and sweatiness of the deep south. The interiors of the locations have a intimate, personal quality to them that make this story feel even more lived-in. “Wake” does a good job of creating a creepy atmosphere too. The exact details of the man's abuse are kept off-screen, which only makes the suggestion more unsettling. The sequences with the demon are similarly unsettling. “Wake” also clearly speaks to the kind of abuse and control women, across many generations, have endured in isolated places like this. Newsome hasn't made another film since “Wake,” which is a shame as she clearly has a lot of talent. Hopefully, she gets another chance some day. [7/10]

Halloween 2023: October 25th

The Hand That Rocks the Cradle (1992)

The blockbuster success of “Fatal Attraction” would essentially birth a whole new subgenre. The domestic thriller would combine psychological suspense and family-centric melodrama, usually with sprinklings of the slasher movie or eroticism. In these films, it's not just human life that is being threatened. Instead, the main element in peril is the sanctity of the white, upper-middle class, suburban family. The safety of the homestead, the innocence of the children, and the holy union of marriage were endangered by unhinged mistresses, teenage femme fatales, psycho neighbors, and clingy exes. Usually, it was a man's philandering ways that brought this problem among the family, the husband being punished for his misdeeds. Yet at least one example made the subtext of the domestic thriller actual text. “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle” would feature a deranged nanny with a grudge attempting to steal the most precious thing a screenwriter could imagine a woman having in the 90s: A loving family. 

Claire Bartel is expecting her second child with her beloved husband, Michael. She visits a new obstetrician, who molests her on the examine table. Claire reports the incident, prompting other women to come forward. The resulting shame leads Dr. Mott to kill himself, which causes his wife, Peyton, to have a miscarriage. Nine months later, Claire gives birth to a baby boy, Joe. After a chance meeting, Claire hires Peyton to be the new nanny, unaware of who she really is. Peyton goes about integrating herself into the family, getting Joe and daughter Emma depended on her. She pushes away other family friends, like neurodivergant handyman Solomon and Michael's best friend. As Peyton plots to ruin Claire's life and steal her family, the housewife starts to realize she is in danger.

“The Hand That Rocks the Cradle” was written by a woman. Amanda Silver went on to write “The Relic” and work on a number of high-profile blockbusters. If you're expecting a notable name like that to produce a smart screenplay, think again. “The Hands That Rocks the Cradle” features some of the most obvious plotting I've seen in a big, Hollywood movie. The first act goes out of its way to remove any ambiguity about Peyton's motivations. The exact origins of her grudge against the Bartels is breathlessly detailed. Normally, you'd expect a movie like this to save the reasons for the villain's scheme as a last act reveal. Instead, “Hand That Rocks the Cradle” puts it all on the table immediately. In fact, all of Peyton's schemes are projected far in advance. Often, the movie will set-up her latest action and have it play out right away. It's kind of like the script is telling us what the character is going to do, right before she does it.

As dumb as “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle's” script is, the movie is gifted with a delightfully petty villainess. Rebecca De Mornay plays Peyton, from the minute she appears at the Bartels' house, with an unhinged gleam in her eyes. She's obviously evil, right from the get-go. A mere few scenes after entering the home, Peyton is breast-feeding baby Joey. Yet De Mornay is so amusing. She verbally attacks a child or Solomon, delivering brutal dialogue with an ice-cold venom in her voice. Her attempts to befriend Emma or seduce Michael are so transparently wicked, yet De Mornay's wide-eyed villainy is never less than totally entertaining. 

If De Mornay's performance is obviously camp, it takes the rest of the movie around her a while to catch up. Director Curtis Hanson – whose incredibly random career would begin with schlock like this before he worked his way up to respectable films like “L.A. Confidential” and “Wonder Boys” – makes many of the early scenes feel like something out a wholesome, family drama. Especially the scenes revolving around Ernie Hudson as Solomon, a hilariously patronizing character, or the aggressively adorable Madeline Zima as Emma. The Bartel household is depicted as so angelically perfect, that it's hard to imagine anyone disrupting their joy. As “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle” goes on, it becomes more ridiculous. Implausible greenhouse murder and De Mornay getting punched across a room proceeds a last act that barrels towards full-blown hysterics. Peyton starts swinging a shovel around like its Jason Voorhee's machete, going full homicidal and dueling it out with Claire. At this point, “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle” finally reaches the levels of delectable trash it was always meant to operate on.

The domestic thriller was red hot in 1992 and “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle” would become a hit that year. It stayed atop the box office for four weeks, despite being buried in the middle of January. Audiences just couldn't get enough of family disrupting stalker psychos at the time. It goes to show too how much the slasher formula had been integrated into mainstream thrillers by this point, when overcooked schlock like this could be given the glossy, big budget sheen. “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle” has neither the directorial skills of “Fatal Attraction” nor the Gothic nuance of “Single White Female.” A filmmaker of the caliber of Adrien Lynn, Barbet Schroeder, or Paul Verhoeven would've put this material through the roof. As it is, the film is too outrageous not to be highly entertaining and gets better the more it embraces its inherent trashiness. [7/10]

A Taste of Blood (1967)

Herschell Gordon Lewis never had any pretensions about the kind of movies he made. He was a true exploitation filmmaker, in the business to make a quick buck and nothing more. The often inept quality of his films reflected this mercenary attitude. Despite all that, Lewis must've had some longing in his heart to make real art. In 1967, the Godfather of Gore would try his hand at a slightly classier type of horror movie than the fake blood filled quickies he usually specialized in. “A Taste of Blood” was Herschell Gordon Lewis' stab at making an epic, with a story that spanned the globe and a run time that extended to two hours. To further display his genuine artistic ambitions for this one, Lewis would draw inspiration from that classic piece of horror literature, Bram Stoker's “Dracula.”

Miami businessman John Stone fills his days playing golf and canoodling with his bombshell wife, Helene. That all changes when he receives a strange gift: Two cases of fine brandy from Moldova, sent by a recently deceased relative. Upon drinking from the bottles, which are actually filled with blood, Stone begins to change. He starts to hypnotize Helene, while wearing a large, distinctive ring. He travels to England, to drive a stake through the heart of a low-ranking lord. Stone has had his ancient ancestry, that of none other than Count Dracula, awoken. He is now on a quest to avenge the Count's death, murdering the descendants of Arthur Holmwood, Quincy Morris, and Abraham Van Helsing. It's up to the modern day Van Helsing and a bevy of other heroes to save Helene and stop Stone.

Even fans of Herschell Gordon Lewis' films could never accuse them of being especially polished. The shoddy quality of his work is part of the appeal, Lewis' lack of formal cinematic skill making his movies into accidental outsider art. However, Lewis' incompetence resulted in even his best movies having dragging paces. This is less of a problem in something like “Blood Feast,” which runs all of an hour, or the likes of “Two Thousand Maniacs” or “The Gore Gore Girls,” which rarely go more than a few minutes without some ridiculous gore gag. “A Taste of Blood,” however, has aspirations of art and actually contains a quasi-coherent narrative. What this translates to is many scenes of guys in suits, standing around in bland boarding rooms, and talking among themselves. When combined with a two hour run time, the result is a movie that is slow as molasses. “A Taste of Blood” grinds on and on, the monotonous score moaning on, rarely feeling like the story is actually progressing much. 

I suppose H.G.L must've been a horror fan, even though I imagine he was drawn to the genre more so because it's highly marketable. “A Taste of Blood” suggests he did long to make a classy – or classier anyway – vampire movie. The film often feels like Lewis' take on a Hammer or Bava movie. The scenes of the vampirized John lurking over a sleeping maiden's bed, blue lights shining on his face, must be the micro-budget attempts to emulate “Horror of Dracula” and the likes. Star Bill Rogers even looks and sounds a little like Christopher Lee. Of course, Lewis had none of the talent of Terence Fisher or Bava. There's plenty of awkward camerawork, shotgun editing, and super-fake blood here. Yet Herschell was definitely trying here. You can see a trace of style, even of motion and movement, in some of “A Taste of Blood's” more tolerable scenes.

Unfortunately, most of the movie is not that interesting. “A Taste of Blood” ostensibly has a global story. Stone hitches a ride on a boat to England, killing the Holmwood descendent there, and also spends some time in Texas. Don't think for a minute that Lewis actually had the movie to lens an ocean-hopping story though. Far too much of “A Taste of Blood” are set in drab, Florida boardrooms. Even when heading to England, the movie mostly resorts to the vampire sitting across from a guy in a chair, talking things out. The movie's biggest set piece is a sleepy chase through a topiary maze and the vampire boarding a boat. (Where Lewis has a comical cameo as a Limey Seaman, sporting a ludicrous accent.) Moments like these really make you miss a bloody barrel road or someone jumping into the back of a garbage truck. 

In other words, Herschell Gordon Lewis' incredibly limited budget and even more limited talent really caught up with him on this one. “A Taste of Blood” is most entertaining when Lewis returns to familiar ground. Such as when the vampire stalks a burlesque dancer at a strip club or attacks a woman dipping into the pool. There's some weird touches, like a random guy walking his dog helping to save the day or Stone weaponizing a pool queue. Overall though, this is a painfully slow and largely uneventful effort. Lewis referred to “a Taste of Blood” as his masterpiece, so he must've been proud of it. However, I'd say his movies were better the leaner and meaner they were, not bloated up and trying to be classy. 

[4/10]

Two Sentence Horror Stories: Crush

“Two Sentence Horror Stories” was canceled by the CW earlier this year with little fanfare. Yet I've enjoyed the two episodes of the rarely discussed anthology I previously watched, so let's give another one a shot. “Crush” follows two elderly twins, Mabel and Jane Laurent, living in a moldering home piled up with decades of possessions. Mabel was a popular singer many years ago, while Mabel pines for contact with her estranged son. The two sisters bicker constantly, Jane killing Mabel's beloved pet rats and Mabel destroying Jane's prized mementos. When a caretaker named Seth enters the home, the years of resentment between the girls start to boil over. But Seth has a secret...

“Crush” is some amusingly trashy hag-horror. The production designer, set dresser, and costume maker really went all-out on this one. The home is filled, floor to ceiling, with old junk. Boxes over flow with weathered knickknacks. The twins wear perfectly gaudy outfits, poorly fitting gowns made up of mismatched colors. The more we see of “Crush's” setting, the more outrageously grotesque it becomes. Mabel keeps all her dead rats in shoe boxes, piled atop each other. Later, those boxes come falling down, little rat bones hitting the floor. Plates of moldy cheese are passed back and forth. Rotting dolls and stuffed animals, faded photographs, and wheezing old machinery decorate every corner of the house. It is all so beautifully hideous. 

The story and tone matches the campy excess of the setting. At first, I thought one actress was playing both twins through camera tricks. Nope, the casting directors really did find elderly twin sisters who are both actresses. Jacqueline Robbins plays Mabel and Joyce Robbins plays Jane. And both are having a ball. Each sister clearly delights in being passive aggressive to the other, which both actresses truly embrace. As the material grows more overheated, so do these wonderfully over-the-top sisters. The scene where Jane humiliates Mabel by playing a recording of her career destroying performance is fantastic. As knowingly ridiculous as “Crush” is, you do end up caring about these two. Largely because the Robbins sisters ground them in just enough reality to make them seem real. Watching the two come together – in a plot twist that thankfully avoided the routine area I figured this would go at first – is truly satisfying. The final scene is an ideally monstrous note to take us out on. People rag on this show but, I don't know, I kind of love this stupid bullshit. [8/10]

AM1200 (2008)

Before directing mind-melting, instant cult classic “The Empty Man,” David Prior would make this similarly themed short film. “AM1200” follows Sam, a low-ranking executive who makes off with company funds after his partner-in-crime commits suicide. On the run, Sam drives his car down obscure roads. While scanning through the radio at night, he hears a snippet of a broadcast. Of someone begging from help, from the radio station AM1200. Unwittingly, he ends up at that exact station. Finding the road blocked, he steps inside and discovers a strange, jabbering man who handcuffed himself to a pole. The man goes on about receiving signals and summoning something. It's not long before Sam is feeling the influence of an otherworldly power too.

“The Empty Man” approached Lovecraftian horror in its own way. “AM1200” touches upon many of the same ideas. The central premise of the short is that receive signals much the same way radio stations can. Here, the signals aren't coming from broadcast towers but otherworldly entities. That's an idea Howard Philip probably would've approved of. Especially in the way connecting with these radio waves drives men to absolute madness. Just to make sure the Lovecraft vibes don't go unfulfilled, the short throws in an eldritch horror too. Making sure these horrors are extra cosmic, there's some time loop fuckery going on as well. 

All of that is well and good. If anyone can appreciate these aspects, it's a life-long Cthulhu nerd like me. As with “The Empty Man,” you don't get the impression that Prior throws these elements into the story simply because they appeal to him. He has a grand master plan in mind and we're only seeing one small snippet of it. Either way, “AM1200” is at its most effective when following simpler muses. Anyone who has done a lot of night driving, with just the ambient chatter of the radio to keep them company, can relate to the premise of hearing something weird, late at night. Leaping from that set-up to winding up on a dead end street, with no idea how you got there, is a creepy extension of that premise. Honestly, if “AM1200” started right with Sam on the road, I'd probably like it more. I don't think the corporate money laundering was necessary, even if cutting that means we would've lost a fun Ray Wise monologue. 

I suppose that, tackling massive ideas in a quirky way that perhaps overextends itself is exactly what one should expect from David Prior. Nevertheless, “AM1200” is a creepy and intriguing horror short. If you're a fan of space squids and going-mad-from-the-revelation, you should probably check it out. [7/10]