PelleCreepy

The 5 Craziest Aliens of the Cthulhu Mythos

2012-01-14T16:04:00.002-05:00

The 5 Craziest Aliens of the Cthulhu Mythos

Wrote this one for Adventures in Poor Taste and linking it back here, for those insterested. Hopefully some other Lovecraft fans will get a kick out of it.

I also wrote this article a while back but forgot to link it here at PelleCreepy:

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark: Gammell vs. Helquist

Apparently, the publishers of my favorite childhood book series, "Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark", have seen fit to remove all of the original artwork by Stephen Gammell and substitute it with new pieces of Brett Helquist. Check out the article to see for yourself how Helquist stacks up against the great Gammell (and perhaps rage once you find out that the Gammell editions are now out of print).

This may be it for now,

2011-12-12T21:39:00.002-05:00

I've decided that, for the time being, there will be no more exclusive updates to PelleCreepy.

After 3 years, the site gets less than 100 views a day and over half of those are google image searches (the majority of which are people looking for Daphne and Velma porn and getting screenshots from my "Scooby-Doo: Camp Scare" article by mistake).

There's just nobody reading and I've spread myself thin across several other projects; something has to go and PelleCreepy is the least viewed of all my work.

When I write any horror-related articles at Adventures in Poor Taste, I'll be sure to link to them here, but otherwise, that's pretty much it for PelleCreepy.

Horror movie review sites are a dime a dozen and I just couldn't produce anything to make mine stand out amongst the crowd, which is entirely my own fault.

I appreciate everyone who read and especially those who took the time to comment or put me on their watch list. I'll see if I can continue the Hellraiser comic book reviews over at Adventures in Poor Taste and I'll try to produce as much horror-related work for them as I can so as to link content here as frequently as possible.

Thanks again and take care.

-Mark Pellegrini

Toho's 5 Best (Godzilla-Free) Monster Movies

2011-12-07T12:56:00.001-05:00

I've been contributing a lot lately to a pop culture and humor site called Adventures in Poor Taste, but whenever I write something horror-related, I'll be sure to link to it here.

In this case, check out my picks for Toho's 5 Best (Godzilla-Free) Monster Movies!

And check out the rest of the site, too!

Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978)

2011-11-17T22:08:00.003-05:00

So there are four versions of “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” out there: one from 1956, one from 1978, one from 1993 and one from 2007. The question now is which version is the best? That’s an easy one: Philip Kaufman’s 1978 version. While the first iteration of “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” is a superb film, it suffers from a slapped on happy ending that the director of that film never wanted but was stuck with by producer interference. The 1978 version is a far more pure and unmolested take on the story, following four relatively normal individuals in their futile attempt to survive the takeover by the pod people. The film extends to a more logical conclusion, avoiding the tacky and insipid attempts at appeasing audience members incapable of accepting a bleak finale, making the narrative all the better for it.

Matthew Bennell (Donald Sutherland) and Elizabeth Driscoll (Brooke Adams) are two health inspectors in San Francisco and together they’ve begun to notice something strange about their friends and neighbors; everyone has suddenly started acting “off”. In a matter of days the sickness reaches epidemic proportions and by the time they determine the culprit (alien pods that absorb their sleeping victims, replacing them with emotionless, hive-mind doppelgangers called “pod people”) it’s too late. Along with two of their friends, all they want to do is make it out of town and hopefully warn the authorities, but that won’t be so easy.

“Invasion of the Body Snatchers” is the perfect version of the story. I don’t blame other incarnations for existing, even if some of them are pretty bad; it’s a very good story at its conceptual level and it’s a small wonder different filmmakers want to take their hand at it every other decade or so. But what makes this incarnation so strong is how “real” it is in terms of the characters and what they can accomplish. We have two health inspectors, two spa owners (Jeff Goldblum and Veronic Cartwright) and a pop psychologist (Leonard Nimoy); these aren’t super scientists capable of whipping up a convenient cure or military bigwigs with enough pull to rally the troops for a comeback. They’re just regular people and that basically means they’re screwed.

As bleak as it sounds, it works in the film’s favor as it allows you and me to identify and sympathize with them, making it a very character driven movie. If a filmmaker can get the audience to connect with his characters then that’s about the best achievement he can make, because now you’re invested in whether they make it or not. And when they don’t, well, that really sucks.

In regards to our cast, this is a very star-studded flick, with Donald Sutherland being charming in a way only Donald Sutherland can be; making you actually root for the guy with the moustache and ridiculous curly afro. Brooke Adams sort of reminded me of Margot Kidder for some reason, but not in a bad way. And in supporting roles you have Jeff Goldblum playing, well, every character he has ever played in his entire career and Leonard Nimoy as the closest thing to an identifiable “villain” as the film gets. I haven’t seen very many movies where Nimoy isn’t playing some version of Spock, so it was interesting for me to witness him behaving with a lot of energy (at least until he gets duplicated).

“Invasion of the Body Snatchers” isn’t an action-oriented flick. There’s a lot of suspense and tension and a whole lot of running, but save for perhaps Sutherland’s meaningless attack on a pod greenhouse, there’s really no bombastic action sequences to speak of. Again, this is a very “down to earth” version of the story and, to be frank, normal people like you or me wouldn’t be involved in huge turn-the-tide explosive action scenarios. All we’d pretty much do is run our asses off in the dark. And man, there is a LOT of that in this movie.

Kaufman’s style is all about discomforting the audience and he finds plenty of ways to pull that off. You’ll notice right at the beginning of the film that much of the ambient noise consists of grating, irritating, trivial sounds that’ll keep you from relaxing your guard (even a mundane afternoon in a playground is scored with creaking swing set chains). When the paranoia of the characters builds to a head, the film cuts rapidly about as voices and conversations collide and brief clips of “off”-looking people flash by us. Then there are other techniques, such as Dutch angles to create a sense of unease and awkwardness. Basically, this is a very uncomfortable movie and that is exactly the kind of movie it needs to be. It conveys a certain sensation that allows you to, again, identify with the uneasiness and discomfort of the characters in the film.

If it weren’t for some nudity toward the end, “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” would be a rather family-suitable horror flick. There’s little blood or gore to speak of and, aside from the idea of people being replaced by doppelgangers, not a whole lot of violence. It still manages to make my skin crawl, though, just thinking about roots from those pods digging under my flesh. While it isn’t an effects-heavy film, the pod people, when seen in mid-transformation, are very gross and messy. The only rather bad effect was the stupid hobo-dog hybrid, which really struck me as the only downright bad part of the movie (it’s a dog wearing a person mask and oh god is it awful).

While 1978’s “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” is the perfect version of the story, I’d still recommend seeking out the original 1956 incarnation, as it’s a strong film even with the tacked-on ending. However, if you’re only in the market for one “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”, then make it this one.

Grade: A (as in, “And I mean no offense to you, Mr. Goldblum, but c’mon. You know it’s true”.)

Atragon (1963)

2011-11-15T20:36:00.004-05:00

Known in Japan as “Undersea Warship”, “Atragon” is easily Toho’s most commentary-stuffed film since the original “Godzilla”. “Atragon” is often accused of encouraging jingoistic tendencies and having a sharply pro-nationalist tone. Honestly, I couldn’t find that to be further from the truth, as the theme of the film revolves around preserving a proud cultural heritage while reprioritizing military vs. domestic lifestyles and accepting a more global point of view in post-World War II Japan. Though the story certainly encourages the rearmament of Japan, it makes a clear distinction between using its military superpowers to become a part of the world rather than rulers of the world.

The subterranean Mu Empire has waited long enough; they want to conquer the Earth and they want to do it now! With their fleet of purloined super submarines, heat rays, earthquake machines, army of vapor-men and the gigantic sea serpent called Manda, they may just be able to, at that. All that stands in their way is the experimental undersea warship called the Atragon, designed by the court-martialed Captain Jinguji (Jun Tazaki) and his small army of military defectors. Retired Rear Admiral Kusumi (Ken Uehara) appeals to Jinguji to use the Atragon to fight the Mu Empire and save the world, but Jinguji is still trapped in a WWII mindset; he plans on using the Atragon to restore the fallen Japanese Empire and still views the rest of the world as his enemies. Jinguji might have to change his mind, however, when his estranged daughter Makoto (Yoko Fujiyama) is kidnapped by sinister Mu agents.

“Atragon” is a very surprising film. Coming out less than twenty years after the end of World War II, it addresses a lot of major social and political issues plaguing Japan during the 60s. The first generation of post-War Japanese were coming of age, having only known life after Western globalization had restructured the country and its cultural trends. “Atragon” takes a few potshots at this generation, having characters such as Makoto not even know what the word “patriotism” means; the idea of being proud of your country and cultural heritage being completely foreign concepts to these ungrateful youths. But “Atragon” doesn’t dwell on such matters for very long and, indeed, it seems far more interested in changing the minds of the humbled and bitter generations of Japanese still refusing to accept life in a global economy.

Captain Jinguji is the avatar for those individuals, harboring their best and worst qualities. He’s proud of his history, his culture and his country and wants to better his homeland with technical innovations and a rousing sense of patriotism and pride. However, Jinguji’s zeal has mired him in a funk, rendering him unable to move and change and grow with the rest of the world; everyone else in Japan has moved on with their lives and accepted the change but him, which is something he just cannot understand. His devotion to his country has cost him the love of his daughter, having missed out on her upbringing, and narrowed his viewpoint so that he’s incapable of seeing the bigger picture; that Japan is merely a part of the world and shares in its fate.

Jinguji is a fascinating character and masterfully portrayed by Jun Tazaki, who offers this commanding presence befitting of the character’s rank, but shows ineptitude in all things non-military. I think his standout scene is his eventual talk with Makoto on the beach, where he seems bewildered and paralyzed all at once, unable to do something as “effeminate” as tell his daughter he loves her or missed her; he’s a relic from a different era when Japanese men were raised to put their countries before their families.

But not all characters are as strong as Jinguji, who doesn’t even appear in the film until past the half hour mark. As a matter of fact, there are too many characters. There’s Admiral Kusumi, Makoto, her love interest and photographer Susumu (Tadao Takashima), his assistant Yoshito (Yu Fujiki), journalist and Mu agent incognito Umino (Kenji Sahara), Detective Ito (Hiroshi Koizumi) and oh so many more. Once they reach the uncharted island where Jinguji has been building the Atragon, half of those characters cease to be relevant.

And despite all its fascinating social commentary, “Atragon” is… well… kinda boring. About as dull as “The Mysterians”, anyway. Despite having a giant flying submarine with a drill on it shooting ice-cannons at a sea serpent, the film still manages to plod along at a rather leisurely pace which may not stick out to you the first time you watch it but will make repeat viewings a bit of a chore. Manda is hardly even in the movie and puts up nothing approaching a fight when he finally slithers out of his cave to attack the Atragon; he just takes the ice blasts to the face and gets frozen solid in a matter of minutes. The Atragon’s absolute invincibility makes the film somewhat anticlimactic, too, as the sub just breezes through every obstacle the Mu Empire can throw at it and saves the day without the crew so much as breaking a sweat. The biggest conflict in the film occurs when some rubble falls on top of the Atragon’s entry hatch and no one can get inside, thus requiring the audience to bite their nails waiting for crewmen to clear the debris. Hold onto your seats, everyone!

In conclusion, I’d say that “Atragon” is much more worthwhile as a slice of political commentary from a transitioning period in Japanese culture than, well, the giant monster sci-fi action flick it was supposed to double as.

Grade: C+ (as in, “Can you believe that another ancient race of subterranean humans will appear in ‘Godzilla vs. Megalon’? How many armies of mole people exist in the Godzilla universe!?”)

Hellraiser (Boom! Studios) #7

2011-11-10T13:09:00.005-05:00

Publication date: November, 2011

Written by: Clive Barker and Christopher Monfette
Art by: Stephen Thompson (pgs 8-17, 20-22) and Janusz Ordon (pgs 1-7, 18-19)
Colors by: Jordie Bellaire
Lettering by: Travis Lanham
Edited by: Matt Gagnon
Assistant editor: Chris Rosa

“Requiem, Part Three”

Boom! Studios’ “Hellraiser” has been a consistently strong title since its debut, but even when I’ve enjoyed every issue of the series, it’s a great feeling when you hit an issue that strikes you as “my favorite so far”. “Hellraiser” has been good, but before now, I’d be hard-pressed to select a single “favorite issue” because the style of storytelling is a seamless narrative more intended to be read as a whole rather than in segments. I’m not saying it’s some horrendous Brian Michael Bendis-style of ultra-decompression, “written for the trade” type of storytelling, but more that it’s a tale written in arcs rather than singular chapters with distinctive identities. You recall “moments” more-so than complete “issues” when reminiscing on your favorite parts.

But this installment struck me as a complete issue I’d remember over others because it’s the type of story I’d been dying for since the book began. It takes us for a tour through the surreal corridors of Leviathan’s labyrinth, it fleshes out the personalities and motivations of Cenobites beyond Pinhead and, well, this is my inner fanboy squee-ing, here: The Engineer!

Having accepted the position as Pinhead’s replacement, the General of the Cenobites, Kirsty finds herself exploring her new kingdom: Hell. Kirsty isn’t quite ready for the torments of Hell and the creatures that reside there aren’t too ready for her, either. As the Engineer hunts her through the labyrinth, she finds rescue from an unlikely source: the Female Cenobite. Female gives her the guided tour of the joint and warns her of Pinhead’s machinations. After making a deal with the rogue Cenobite, Kirsty leaves to face Pinhead and usurp his command.

While we got to see Hell in the first issue of the series, we haven’t been back since, making this “homecoming” story all the stronger. I was glad we spent as much time as we did on Earth, because if there’s one thing the “Hellraiser” film series has taught me, it’s that a little “epic” goes a looooong way. Too much Hell distracts from the personal tragedies that fuel the series, because what is Hell but a collection of personal tragedies? It’s like seeing only the forest for the trees; the bigger picture is nice every once in a while but you can’t lose sight of what it’s comprised of. One of the reasons why I enjoyed the first three straight-to-video “Hellraiser” films so much is that they escaped the “gotta be more epic than the last” trap the theatrical series had gotten mired in and returned the franchise to the more cerebral and torturous qualities of the first film. At least before “Hellworld” came along and ruined everything.

But Hell, when used to considerate effect, becomes a more powerful visual. And it is great to see the labyrinth of “Hellbound” in all its glory once again. Even more than that, though, it was an absolute joy to see the freakin’ Engineer make a comeback. He was a bit of a random element in the original film; just this weird worm-monster than popped up whenever Clive Barker didn’t think the audience’s pants were wet enough, and his name was something leftover from the source novella, “The Hellbound Heart” (he bore no similarity with the Engineer from that book other than the proper noun). And unless I missed an issue of the original “Hellraiser” comic book series (which is possible, as I’d missed several), I don’t think he’s been seen since the first flick (there was an Engineer in “Inferno” but it was a different character).

So, of course, seeing that bitchin’ worm-thing make such a grand return, and in a manner similar to his original introduction, was an effective bit of fan-wank that still managed to enhance the suspense of the story without feeling like nostalgic pandering. This issue goes the extra mile in giving the Cenobites featured in it some background or at least motivation and personality, too. We find out just why he’s called "the Engineer" and we even see him engineering stuff! I’m hoping that his fate at the end of the issue isn’t permanent, but considering they make a point to say that he can “repair himself” from particularly dire injuries, I’d like to think he’s just taking a breather. If all the classic Cenobites that died in “Hellbound” can come back without explanation, then why not?

On that note, Female gets the lion’s share of personality. If you’d read any of my previous reviews, I mentioned that what I’d been wanting for a while is a story or two detailing the lives of the most popular Cenobites, be it before or after they were changed. As it stands in the films, next to Pinhead, no Cenobite really has any character or personality. They’re all kickass window dressing to be sure, but that’s about it.

Here, we learn just why Female and Pinhead were lovers, which not only fleshes out Female but gives us some insights into Pinhead from someone who knows him best. There’s a great mix of vengefulness to her (of the “no fury like a woman spurned” variety) as well as a legitimate sadness, as she knows why Pinhead did what he did and, ultimately, that his scheme to reach Heaven is doomed to failure. Her demand that she be allowed to torment Pinhead after he falls could have been made either out of mercy or cruel bitterness; you really can’t tell and that’s what’s great about it. There’s no flat, two-dimensional characterization going on; her motivations are fueled by a mixture of emotions and loyalties.

Boom! Studio’s “Hellraiser” series has had some trouble keeping a consistent art team and I don’t believe we’ve had one artist stay on for more than two issues at a time before rotating. If this means we get the book on time, then I’m okay with it; seven issues and not a single delay thus far. This issue, though, actually has art duties split up between Stephen Thompson and newcomer, Janusz Ordon. Impressively, the styles are remarkably congruent and don’t clash (if they hadn’t listed page number sources in the credits, I’d have a hard time determining where the artists alternate). I love Jordie Bellaire’s colors on this book; the heavy mix of freezing blues and burning reds; it’s a great illustration of both classical interpretations of Hell (the Puritanical “fire and brimstone” style with the Dante Alighieri “frozen wasteland” rendition). The two-page spread where Kirsty stumbles on the Engineer in his workshop is a gorgeous piece not just for the line work, but for the coloring bringing the flames and shadows to life.

Hellraiser #7 is the best yet, giving me several of the things I’d personally been dying for since the book started. I am glad that Barker and Monfette chose to wait until now to bring in several of these elements of the Hellraiser Mythos, though, as they’d have lost their impact if included sooner. Previous concepts that seemed random are given meaning (Pinhead’s and Female’s romance), plot points from the beginning of the series are coalescing (Pinhead’s machinations are almost all together), familiar fan-favorites make their return (Engineer!) and new ideas are surfacing (what’s with those hooded monks?). I normally have a few criticisms to lay on the table with these reviews, but I can’t think of any with this installment. Maybe some of Kirsty’s dialogue at the beginning when she thinks she’s in Heaven sounds stilted and awkward, but that’s really it. Just a good, solid issue.

Grade: A (as in, “And the Engineer is in for such a demotion once Kirsty takes over”.)

Jeepers Creepers (2001)

2011-11-03T14:10:00.003-04:00

Before we get started, you should probably know something about writer/director Victor Salva. While working on the film “Clownhouse”, Salva sexually molested the 12 year-old male lead and did a year in state prison for it. Keep that in mind as you watch “Jeepers Creepers”, a horror movie about a monster obsessed with smelling and fondling teenage boys. Yeah, yeah, I know. “But Mark, he did his time; can’t you let him move on with his life?” I’d love to. But when the movie centers on an unstoppable child-molesting machine that wins in the end, I just have my doubts the rehabilitation really sunk in for the guy.

Siblings Trish (Gina Phillips) and Darry (Justin Long) are on a typical drive through the remote countryside when BAM! A lunatic in a humongous, rusty truck starts psychotically harassing them. A local psychic (Patricia Belcher) reveals to the youths that the fiend that’s stalking them is a bizarre creature called the Creeper (Jonathan Breck) that comes out of hibernation every 23 years to replace its own body parts with fresh ones. The Creeper cannot be stopped or killed and nothing can prevent it from taking its prey. In this case, it desperately wants a certain irresistible body part belonging to young Darry. The only advice the psychic can give them is this: when the olde timey song “Jeepers Creepers” starts playing, shit’s about to go down.

The Creeper is like Salva’s own self-insertion character; if this were a fanfic, he’d be a “Mary Sue”. Though the context behind “Jeepers Creepers” makes the film gross and unsettling in all the wrong ways, how does it stack up when separated from the writer/director’s checkered history?

“Jeepers Creepers” is mostly push and pull between fresh ideas and recycled ideas. The Creeper, ignoring the fact that he was spawned from the diseased imagination of a convicted pedophile, actually has an interesting mythology built up behind him that could facilitate any number of prequels written for a period setting. The absolute invulnerability of the monster and its less-than-subtle methods makes it more of a Terminator and less of a typical “lurking in the shadows” type of slasher, which adds a frightening layer to the villain, as there’s no strength in numbers or safety in densely populated places. If it wants you, you’re fucked.

Unfortunately, much of this back story comes from the worst character in the movie, Jezelle the psychic, who acts as a god awful exposition machine if there ever was one. The connection to the 1938 song you probably thought Looney Tunes made up, “Jeepers Creepers”, is tenuous at best and seems to have been included solely to facilitate the silly-sounding title. The worst moment comes when they play some updated pop version of the song probably covered by some contemporary 2001 artist that I don’t remember and don’t care to fast forward through the credits to look up. Don’t get me wrong, olde timey music can be very creepy if properly utilized in horror movies (see the cellar scene in “The Evil Dead”), but this is just stupid.

I thought that the Creeper had an excellent design to him, though; a tattered hat and jacket hiding something truly inhuman and monstrous, which leaks through on close-ups of his face or claws or when he spreads his wings. And if you can ignore that it seems to be Salva’s triumphant battlecry empowering child molesters everywhere; the joyless ending was a nice change of pace for modern horror movies and a refreshing alternative to the stale "happy ending" (“Jeepers Creepers 2” suffered from having a happy ending and from being “Jeepers Creepers 2”).

“Jeepers Creepers” also begins as a very bad knock-off of “Duel”; and if you thought “Joy Ride” was the worst “Duel” knock-off out there then you haven’t seen anything, yet. Of course, this really only matters if you’ve seen “Duel” before and are familiar with the whole “giant evil truck harasses motorists along a lonely stretch of highway” shtick. If you haven’t, then I suppose “it’s new to you” so it won’t bug you.

I guess if my review has said anything, it’s that some times it is really, really hard to separate a film from the controversy behind its creator. But again, this would be easier if the creator wasn’t a convicted pedophile and the film didn’t star a monster that smells, fondles and “collects” teenage boys. Because every time the villain starts stroking and sniffing the young male protagonist, all it serves to do is remind the audience that Victor Salva is the real “creeper”.

Grade: D (as in, “Don’t even get me started on ‘Powder’, either”.)

Blade (1998)

2011-10-22T22:14:00.002-04:00

1998, I remember it well. I was 13, “Blade” had just come out and no matter how many times I told my friends it was based off of a Marvel comic, they just wouldn’t believe me. In this decade, it’s hard to fathom there was a time when movies based on Marvel Comics franchises simply could not make it out of Development Hell. Prior to “Blade”, what all did we have? That crappy “Captain America” movie from the 80s where he had rubber ears? Those “Incredible Hulk” TV movies starring Bill Bixby? A Roger Corman-produced “Fantastic Four” flick that was never meant to be seen by the living? Aside from the cheap, embarrassing garbage we’d all like to forget, Marvel characters just did not exist on film in 1998. And then Blade snuck in under the radar because, really, who the fuck is “Blade”?

And let’s all be grateful for that.

After a surprise vampire attack, Karen (N’Bushe Wright) finds herself thrust into the bizarre underworld of Blade the Vampire Hunter (Wesley Snipes) and his mentor, Whistler (Kris Kristofferson). Blade is a “daywalker”, a half-vampire who possesses all of the undead’s strengths but none of their weaknesses. He uses those powers to slay the bloodsuckers, though he may be running short on time, as his vampire half is slowly eclipsing his human side. At the top of Blade’s hitlist is Deacon Frost (Stephen Dorff), a powerful vampire… Nightclub owner? Politician? Archeologist? It’s kind of unclear, but the point is that he’s found a means to resurrect an ancient vampire blood god who will turn all humans on Earth into creatures of the night. Only techno music and stabbing can stop him.

If you’ve never read Marvel’s “Tomb of Dracula” comic then I’d highly recommend you snag some of the ridiculously affordable Essential collections, as they’re some of the publisher’s best output of the 70s that doesn’t involve Conan the Barbarian suplexing gorillas and chopping the heads off Vikings. Blade, as he was originally conceived, was a dude with an afro and green goggles who talked jive and played by his own rules. He was awesome, don’t get me wrong, but we all have Director Stephen Norrington’s 1998 feature film to thank for updating Blade for a modern audience.

Screenwriter David S. Goyer’s “punching-up” of Blade’s origin, alongside Wesley Snipe’s portrayal of the character, have since become the singular interpretation of the vampire hunter, having migrated to and superseded the source material. Blade was never a “daywalker” in the comics before this movie, but he sure as Hell is now. Not that it matters, I suppose. Three feature films and a TV series later and the dude still can’t hold down more than one miniseries every five years.

On the topic of the “Blade” movie, however, I think the fact that very few people outside of the comic shop knew who this guy was lent to its success. There was no cast iron image of the character in the public eye and no precise expectations; the filmmakers were free to reinvent a total Z-lister into an absolute badass. And they succeeded.

Norrington’s direction is very “hip” and at times maybe too much so. The dude seems to have a nightclub and rave fetish and the entire film can probably be mapped out as a string of parties. I didn’t mind much of his “music video” approach to things; I actually liked how the “fast forward” car chase looked and the techno music complimented the fight sequences quite well, enhancing several visual cues. Other moments, such as a sequence where some Japanese schoolgirls sing a helium-pitched rap song that goes on for minutes… So, so angry.

Other than perhaps Willie Mays Hayes, Blade is the character Wesley Snipes will be remembered for until he’s in the ground and, as mentioned, his portrayal has become so iconic that he’s basically starring in the comics, now (but probably not getting paid for it). Of the three “Blade” movies, I thought Snipes’s rendition was best in this one, as there’s a sense of humor to the character that got lost by the time the sequels rolled around. His reaction to the cop shooting him at the hospital, moments where he displays genuine joy and enthusiasm in slaughtering vampires and, yeah, his awesome “ice-skating uphill” line are character highlights in the film. Boil him down to just an angry, all-business guy who growls a lot and suddenly he just becomes boring; the brief instances where he would “break character” for a moment and say or do something funny are part of the charm.

Kris Kristofferson kinda phones in a typical “I’m too old for this shit” geriatric mentor character (and I think he even says that hammy, overdone line, too), but he fits the part and plays the material well. Stephen Dorff plays an ultra-douchey villain in Deacon Frost, and while surface-wise he isn’t much of a match for Blade, he’s definitely got a dangerous charisma about him that makes it believable he’d have amassed so many followers. Who I really liked, though, was Donal Logue as Quinn, Frost’s comedy relief henchman. “Comedy relief henchman” is such an easy archetype to overplay and runs the risk of absolutely ruining scenes or even an entire film (think Otis from “Superman the Movie”). Quinn is actually genuinely amusing and his humor never feels forced on the audience.

“Blade” has some crap to it, though. There are terribly stupid moments, such as Pearl, the obese vampire archivist with an annoying voice whose farts are supposed to be hilarious. Or try the anti-coagulant darts, which make vampires goofily puff-up into red balloons before popping. Worst offender is the CG animation. What was state of the art in 1998 is what we’re used to seeing on the SyFy Channel now. Even the simplest shapes and effects, such as a single drop of blood, look cartoony and unconvincing. Luckily, save for some moments in the climax (the winged skeletons and Frost’s blood regeneration), the CG elements aren’t overtly in-your-face, but come and go in seconds, often as background imagery during fight scenes. The “disintegrating” may grate on you when the movie starts, but by the end you’ll hardly even notice it anymore. And really, even though the effect is dated, it’s still pretty cool-looking.

At times, “Blade” made me feel like I was watching a video game. Every villain Blade stabs immediately vanishes in a cloud of explosive smoke like the Foot Soldiers in TMNT Arcade, and once he’s made his way through the final level he gets to have a big boss battle with Deacon Frost on a circular platform with weapons hidden in rocks that he has to smash in order to retrieve. But that’s just part of the appeal, for some reason.

Dated elements all accounted for, “Blade” is still a solid action film, a solid vampire film and a solid superhero film. Though 2000’s “X-Men” is probably the flick that really kicked off the superhero movie craze, I think even it owes a debt of gratitude to “Blade” for paving the way.

Grade: B (as in, “But if there was a ‘Blade’ tie-in video game for the PS1 or something I’m pretty sure it would have sucked”.)

Bubba Ho-Tep (2002)

2011-10-20T23:14:00.003-04:00

Mummies don’t get a lot of play these days, at least outside of annoying garbage starring Brendan Fraser, that is. It’s easy to see why, considering mummies are five thousand year-old sacks of highly flammable, incredibly brittle dust and jerky that move at the lightning speed of a tortoise and grasp their prey with the unbreakable grip of two tongue depressors squeezing together. It would take an awfully pathetic individual to be rendered believable fodder for a mummy attack. So what better place to stage a mummy film than in an old folk’s home? And hey, this one’s got Elvis and JFK!

Though his ID may say “Sebastian Haff” (Bruce Campbell), the resident of the Shady Oaks rest home is really a geriatric Elvis Presley, not that anyone will believe him. His glory days behind him and forced to suffer the indignities of old age, Elvis spends his twilight years contemplating his lost youth and hanging out with Jack (Ossie Davis), a black man who believes he’s John F. Kennedy. But one final adventure may rest in store for Elvis, as a mummy in cowboy boots aptly dubbed Bubba Ho-Tep (Bob Ivy) has begun sucking the souls of the elderly residents while they sleep. Joining forces, Elvis and JFK seek to destroy the undead fiend before nap-time spells their certain doom.

Watching “Bubba Ho-Tep”, a funny thing occurred to me. It’s about a pair of awkward friends in a quiet suburban neighborhood who discover a monster preying on their neighbors. Of course, none of the authority figures around them will believe their wild stories so they have no recourse but to face the creature alone with what little resources and strength they have, given their age.

This could easily be a horror movie centered around children instead of old people, when you stop to think about it, and in a way that kind of made the film all the more amusing. Old age is so much like childhood except instead of the potential to earn freedom and privileges with the promise of a bright future ahead, it’s all about losing freedoms and privileges you once had with nothing but the promise of death to end your misery and humiliation.

Anyway, “Bubba Ho-Tep” is a horror-comedy from Don Coscarelli, the man who gave us the “Phantasm” series and, to much lesser applause, the “Beastmaster” series. One of Coscarelli’s greatest strengths as a director is an ability to set a mood and “Bubba Ho-Tep” is a great example of that talent, as it is a very moody film. The aura of hopelessness that permeates through all retirement homes is thick in this film, while the soft amber lighting bathes the movie in a very sleepy yet uneasy atmosphere. The humor is almost relentless in the film, due in large part to Elvis’s consistent inner monologue, but I’m grateful for it, as this would otherwise be an extremely bleak and dismal picture.

When I was in the 11th grade, I had an after school job working at the Greenspring Village retirement complex, as a busboy in their cafeteria. When I say “complex”, I’m not exaggerating. Greenspring Village consisted of four or five three-to-four story buildings, with basement levels, spread out over a large, gated and guarded plot of land, each connected by underground tunnels or above-ground bridges. The layout of each building was maze-like as the wildly varying sizes of the rooms (which were more like mini apartments than hospital cells) prohibited a standard grid of corridors. And to get from one building to another you had to navigate the passageways and floor levels to find the bridges and tunnels to get from A to B. I swear, they set the joint up that way just so the old people couldn’t find their way out. I worked there when the place had just opened, too, so most of the buildings were completely empty. Exploring the complex was a lot of fun.

Anyway, the point of that rambling anecdote was that “Bubba Ho-Tep” reminds me of Greenspring Village whenever I watch it. Coscarelli uses the art of movie magic and imparts a similar maze-like quality to the Shady Oaks retirement home, which again, adds toward the off-kilter atmosphere of the film.

But if “Bubba Ho-Tep” is anything, it’s really an actor’s movie, as it centers around two primary characters: Elvis and JFK. Bruce Campbell plays a very convincing over-the-hill Presley, though the film has made me realize what a cartoon character The King has become since his death. Hard to believe Elvis was ever even a real person. The nonstop inner monologue, though it takes the edge off of the despair, can get a bit tiresome after a fashion; especially Presley’s constant need to ask himself questions. Campbell receives some great make-up and really sells the exhausted, geriatric nature of the character; you never doubt that he’s an old man and even the slightest exertions are enough to sap his energy. The whole “last hoorah” angle of the film gives even the somber ending a hint of joy, as it shows that old people can have one final adventure before they punch their ticket.

Equally as impressive in the film is co-star Ossie Davis, a famous character actor, particularly on television, with an unmistakable voice and presence. His JFK is interesting, as he doesn’t try to mimic the voice or mannerisms of the actual ex-President, but instead carries himself with a sense of authority, dignity and an adventurous attitude. Sadly, Davis passed away only three years after this film was released. Though “Bubba Ho-Tep” certainly isn’t the most prestigious film to his credit, it’s probably the one I’ll remember him best for. And he certainly did a great job with the material.

There are some dodgy moments to “Bubba Ho-Tep”, however. The giant man-eating scarabs are ridiculous-looking; perhaps being throwbacks to the giant man-eating fly from Coscarelli’s “Phantasm”. Whatever the intention, they’re really awful-looking, and though the film is assuredly a comedy, they reek more of bad humor to me. On that note, many of the jokes in the film are pretty juvenile and, while I laughed at some and feel guilty over it (the hieroglyphics accompanying Ho-Tep’s insult, “eat the dog dick of Anubis, ass-wipe”, for instance), many are just too crass and lowbrow even for me.

Really, though, that’s just me digging for criticisms. “Bubba Ho-Tep” is a great low budget horror film with a strong (and small) cast of characters. The setting avoids placing the film in any specific year, giving it a timeless quality that’s sure to increase shelf life by a few additional decades. And even though I’m only twenty-six, the movie makes me dread my twilight years just a little less; or at least gives me hope that I might still be able to have some neutered excitement from my hospital bed.

Grade: A- (as in, “And hey, Reggie Bannister’s in this thing! I don’t think he’ll have a role this big again until he voiced ‘nameless security guard’ in an episode of Transformers: Prime last year”.)

Hellraiser (Boom! Studios) #6

2011-10-12T16:58:00.008-04:00

Publication date: October, 2011

Written by: Clive Barker and Christopher Monfette
Art by: Stephen Thompson
Colors by: Jordie Bellaire
Lettering by: Travis Lanham
Edited by: Ian Brill
Assistant editor: Chris Rosa

“Requiem, Part Two”

If I should give Clive Barker and Christopher Monfette credit for anything, I think it would have to be the total bait and switch with my expectations of the series that the “Requiem” arc has so far accomplished. When Hellraiser started out, I figured it would be about the new Harrowers, led by Kirsty, hunting down the various puzzle boxes, fighting the Cenobites within them and bit by bit defeating Leviathan. Not a bad sort of story, but very typical comic book stuff.

But just as I was beginning to settle into those expectations, Barker and Monfette turned the story completely on its head and now I don’t know what’s coming next.

Tiffany has returned to Kirsty’s old homestead to reunite with her estranged friend. As it turns out, Tiffany was ejected from the Harrowers as she had taken to murdering all the unwitting Engineers who felt the spark of inspiration from Lemerchand’s architecture, whether they realized the source of that inspiration or not. But Kirsty hasn’t exactly called Tiffany over to make amends. She has accepted Pinhead’s “proposal” that she become the new General of Hell’s army and wants Tiffany to lock the door behind her on her way into Hell.

Tiffany, co-protagonist of “Hellbound: Hellraiser II” returns, now all grown up. It’s a bit alarming to see that she’s become a tubetop-wearing, globetrotting murderer and the execution may even seem a bit artificial. Honestly, if she hadn’t had her name dropped I’d never have thought that this angry blonde was the introverted mute from the movies.

We’re given a prolonged, six page montage chronicling Tiffany’s murder of three Engineers, all of whom had no idea they were witlessly in the thrall of Leviathan. Kirsty shares in the reader’s disgust with Tiffany’s action, though any sort of forgiveness or coming of terms isn’t the point of the issue.

Though Tiffany is (re)introduced as the new starring heroine of the series, its Kirsty’s sacrifice and her flashback to Pinhead that forms the tastiest meat of the issue. “Hellraiser III” dealt with the fallout of Pinhead learning his human identity as Captain Elliot Spencer, but since “Hellraiser III” was fucking awful, it didn’t really do the matter justice. This issue takes a much more emotional response to the plot point, as Kirsty’s attempt to “save” Pinhead actually only succeeded in making him that much more miserable. Before, he believed he was “always” a Cenobite and knew of nothing else. Kirsty inadvertently burdened him with all his memories of his human life and those he loved who are now long gone. Kirsty succeeded in actually making Hell worse for the guy. Nice going.

And so we find out just why Kirsty can’t seem to escape the puzzle box and why Pinhead always seems to be “drawn” to her. It’s his means of “revenge”, trite as that sounds on the surface. She gave him back all his memories of those he once loved, so he decided to turn all those she loved into mere memories. Before you determine that that sounds shallow, it actually feeds into the overarching strategy Pinhead began in the first issue; as he now tempts her with the knowledge that the souls of her loved ones that he’s been collecting can all be found in Hell. All Kirsty has to do is accept her new role as General of Hell and she can not only have them all back, but reshape Hell into whatever configuration she desires.

It’s a rather masterfully played scheme (which we still haven’t seen the end of) that illustrates just why Pinhead has been “breaking the rules”, so to speak; killing-off Kirsty’s friends and lovers whether they opened the box or not. It also gives a plausible reason for why Kirsty would agree to taking on such an occupation; which would have made or broken this story if the catalyst hadn’t been agreeable to the audience. We still don’t know how Pinhead is going to reclaim his life as Elliot Spencer just yet, but we will down the line, I have to doubt. Of course, he had already reclaimed his soul as Spencer in “Hellraiser III” and selflessly gave it up, kind of making his change of heart in this storyline seem a little like Indian giving... but whatever. I’m content to ignore a movie as bad as “Hellraiser III”.

Stephen Thompson returns on art duties. This issue had a very drab atmosphere and Thompson’s layouts drive the tone home by being rather uninspired. Much of the story takes place in an empty, darkened room, and even Kirsty’s flashback takes place in an empty, darkened barn. The only sequences with unique environments are in Tiffany’s montage, though the panels are just stacked on top of each other and don’t really “pop”. I did dig the page juxtaposing the classic Cenobites alongside their original human counterparts; though it left me wanting to see stories delving into the origins of these characters more than anything else (though human-Butterball is what I imagine a grown-up Eric Cartman might look like).

Thompson’s best work in the issue comes during the pages where Kirsty sinks into a glowing pit on her way into Hell, particularly the splash page where Kirsty looks up at Tiffany while slowly sinking deeper into the blue energy. Jordie Bellaire’s coloring really stands out in this sequence, too.

The Hellraiser comic is something of an enigma. Just when you think you’ve got it figured out, it takes a left turn you didn’t know was there. It’s evident that the book won’t be traversing any routine comic book paths and you never know when characters are going to have their statuses completely change. While losing characters just as you’re beginning to understand them can be a bit irritating, it’s still a pleasure to have a book with such an unpredictable nature as this one.

Grade: B+ (as in, “But Kirsty’s got a lot of assholes waiting for her in Hell, too. Frank, Julia, Trevor… the list goes on!”)

Dawn of the Dead (1978)

2011-10-07T13:15:00.002-04:00

“Dawn of the Dead” is sort of the “Empire Strikes Back” of Romero’s Dead series, regarded by many as the best of the franchise. In a lot of ways it is, offering a more epic scope than the claustrophobic “Night of the Living Dead” and “Day of the Dead” but without being insipidly unwatchable like “Land of the Dead”. In fact, while “Night of the Living Dead” was the primogenitor of the modern zombie film, “Dawn of the Dead” is the primogenitor of the modern-modern zombie film. Everything from the “Dead Rising” video games to the comic-turned-TV series “The Walking Dead” owe much of their success and mayhaps their very existence to this film.

The zombie outbreak has overrun the globe and nobody seems able to stop it. Helicopter pilot Stephen (David Emge), his girlfriend Francine (Gaylen Ross) and SWAT members Peter (Ken Foree) and Roger (Scott H. Reiniger) steal a chopper to escape an infected city with their lives, hoping to find sanctuary somewhere out in the boonies. What they find, however, is the abandoned Monroeville shopping mall… well, abandoned by everything living, that is. Recognizing a good thing when they see it, the quartet immediately get to work ridding the mall of its undead stragglers to turn the place into a veritable paradise. But their hard-earned spoils may not last, as their greatest threat isn’t the zombies, but a horde of motorcycle raiders bent on killing them and taking the mall’s riches for themselves.

Though the ante has been upped considerably since the first installment, “Dawn of the Dead” carries on most of the same themes as its predecessor, focusing on isolation, survival and, most importantly, humanity's complete inability to work together even in the worst crisis imaginable. The limited cast allows you to develop a great attachment to the main characters and you really get to watch them grow and develop (you start the film hating Stephen, but he eventually earns his stripes as things move along). The bulk of the film is spent watching the cast painstakingly struggle to take the mall for themselves, one baby step at a time, so once their “home” comes under attack, you feel as invested in it as they do. I’ve seen a lot of younger viewers regard the midsection, which contains all the character growth and the taking back of the mall, as “boring” and even some of my friends my age find it hard to sit through. I don’t share that disposition, however, as I’m just kind of fascinated by the idea of mundane day-to-day survival routines in a world overrun by zombies (I’ve practically worn-out my copy of Max Brooks’ “Zombie Survival Guide”).

Due to the tremendous quantity of extras playing shambling corpses, the makeup effects are mostly limited to grey face-paint, save some ghouls that manage a spotlight here and there and thus warrant more attention to their features. I suppose it makes them a bit more “comical” (as the zombies are almost played off for laughs more than anything else in this movie), but through the first three Dead films you can actually see an arc in the zombies’ appearance; they grow more rotten with each installment. Tom Savini’s blood mix, though, I can’t really defend. Candy apple red? It’s sort of ridiculous.

If I had to select a “worst aspect” of the film, I’d immediately say that it’s the music. About a third of the film is scored by Goblin, the composers who did “Suspiria”, while the rest is made up entirely of public domain library tunes. The two competing tracks are positively incongruous and their clashing sensibilities serve only to distract the audience from the action. I much prefer Goblin’s work, as they bring in that supernatural, eerie sound enhanced by some pulse-pounding electronic vibes. The library music is just god awful; goofy stuff that sounds like it was purloined from a late 60s cop drama. None of it fits the tone of the movie, changing the atmosphere entirely in some scenes, and just sounds absurd (especially that silly “heroic” tune they play for Ken Foree at the very end).

You may be interested in knowing that there are three unique cuts of this film, and if you own the 2004 Anchor Bay Ultimate Edition 4-disc DVD set, then you already own them all. But basically, there’s the 127 minute US theatrical cut, which is the one we’re all used to and happens to be Romero’s preferred version (it’s also the version I’ve been reviewing). Then you have the extended cut, which runs 139 minutes. It only adds 12 needless minutes of runtime during the mid section, as the characters adapt to confinement in their pleasure prison, and really, the US theatrical cut had more than enough of that. It also contains 100% library music which, if you couldn’t tell from the previous paragraph, is not something I appreciate. Finally, there’s the European cut known as “Zombi” (not to be confused with it's Euro-sequel, "Zombie"). Running 118 minutes and edited by Dario Argento, it’s a much leaner film and probably better suited to the crowds who find the US theatrical cut “boring”. It also contains more music from Goblin, making it easier on the ears. Unfortunately, you lose some really sweet moments in the trade-off, such as the zombie getting the top of his head sliced off by the helicopter blades.

“Dawn of the Dead” is often praised for its message satirizing American consumerism and materialism. The message is definitely there, yes, but I wouldn’t really praise the execution. The characters, at least twice, all crowd together and explain the message to the audience via some pretty hammy dialogue. I much prefer the more overarching message of the Dead series, that humanity is its own worst enemy. Pretty bleak, yeah, but fitting under the circumstances.

Though not perhaps the flawless masterpiece some would have you believe, “Dawn of the Dead” is still a superb film and a vital installment in the zombie subgenre of horror. Though the music may leave you irritated and the blood may leave you laughing, the characters and the story remain strong over thirty years later. But “Creepshow” is still Romero’s best flick.

Grade: A (as in, “And I’ll take ‘no more room in Hell’ as an explanation over radiation from Venus, any day”.)

The Return of Swamp Thing (1989)

2011-10-06T14:29:00.002-04:00

While my loathing of the original “Swamp Thing” film is no secret, I’ll happily reveal that even as a hardcore fan of the DC/Vertigo Swamp Thing comics, I have a particularly strong affection for “The Return of Swamp Thing”. In the early 90s, one of the Turner cable networks (Sci-Fi, USA, TNT; it doesn’t matter which) would run an annual Swamp Thing marathon, probably to coincide with Earth Day or something, and they’d fill it out with the movies, the live-action TV series and even the short-lived cartoon. I remember staying up past midnight (which takes a lot of sugar when you’re eight) just to watch “Return of Swamp Thing” and loving the movie… even if, objectively speaking, it probably isn’t very good.

Dr. Anton Arcane (Louis Jordan) has recovered from his grotesque mutation, but is in desperate need of a permanent cure, lest his body deteriorate. In steps his long-lost stepdaughter, Abby (Heather Locklear), whose genetic code may hold the secret Arcane desires. Menaced by Arcane's mutant Un-Men, the dumb blonde finds rescue in the form of the muck-encrusted hero: Swamp Thing (Dick Durock). Lucky for Swamp Thing, Abby has a thing for plants and the pair immediately hit it off. Arcane soon intercedes, breaking up their romance and kidnapping Abby for his own nefarious experiments.

The original “Swamp Thing” was a straight-up bad movie for a lot of reasons, mostly stemming from a stupid rubber costume and a complete inability to settle on a focused tone (is it a comedy? Horror?). “The Return of Swamp Thing” places the tongue firmly in cheek and rolls with the silliness, which isn’t always gut-busting, but you can at least appreciate the fact that it had no delusions about itself.

The first thing I feel compelled to comment on is that this movie has one of my favorite opening sequences of any comic book film to date. I don’t care how goofy the leech-man’s costume looks or how annoying the federal agents are, it’s a well set-up sequence with some great payoff (“They call me… Swamp Thing”). And then it leads into the best title credits in cinema history, as a montage of classic Swamp Thing comic book art from the likes of Berni Wrightson and Steve Bissette is set to “Born on the Bayou”, my all-time favorite CCR song. It’s just such a strong start to the movie and, honestly, usually the only part I rewatch when I’m in the mood.

Because the rest of the movie takes a little more patience.

Though it precedes it by a couple of years, “Return of Swamp Thing” has the look, feel and production values of the live-action television series that ran for three seasons on USA. In fact, were you to take a five minute clip from this movie and from an episode of the show and make someone watch them, they’d likely be hard-pressed to determine which was a low-budget syndicated cable program and which was a feature film. This can make things pretty rough, but the self-aware humor of the film takes much of the edge off.

Of all the assembled cast, the late Dick Durock proves the most talented, endowing a subtle, resigned sense of humor to Swamp Thing (particularly in the opening sequence) that gives the impression the character is content to play the hand he’s been dealt and isn’t moping about it any longer. Durock was the Swamp Thing of a generation and I was rather shocked when he passed away in 2009 (and even more shocked to hear he was 72 when he went; that means he was 52 when he made this movie!). The superior suit makes Durock’s acting more appreciable than in the previous film, as you’re no longer distracted by the rubberiness of his appearance. Director Jim Wynorski also sees the value in cloaking much of the film in darkness, so any perceptable faults of the suit seem a little less obvious. Still, he never shies away from showing us Swamp Thing in his full glory, and to be honest, he really does look like Swamp Thing.

Having come after the celebrated Alan Moore run on the comic, a few of the ideas forged in those issues rear their head in this film; albeit it in a typically mangled fashion. Abby, a character from the Len Wein era who became Swamp Thing’s love interest during Moore’s run, takes center stage in the film, portrayed by that chick from Melrose Place that everyone wanted to bang. She plays Abby as being way too ditzy, but again, I think Locklear’s performance had more to do with the knowledge that she was in a comedy. Other elements, such as Swamp Thing’s psychic tubors that allow him and Abby to “do it” appear and Swamp Thing kinda-sorta teleports, a power Moore gave him in the comic. Of course, he “teleports” by turning into primordial muck, traveling through the sewer and reconstituting in a bathtub.

There are a lot of bad actors in this movie, mostly in supporting roles (like a redneck sheriff or some braindead henchmen or a pair of rape-happy moonshiners), but I think the ones everyone tends to hate most are the two kids. The black kid isn’t so bad, but the fat one… You’re gonna want to strangle the fat one. The mind-blowingly comprehensive DVD from Image Entertainment, amongst a plethora of other special features, happens to include the PSA Swamp Thing did for Green Peace, which also features the two insufferable brats. I remember seeing that PSA all the time when I was a kid, so as much as I hate those children now (who, incidentally, are both older than me), I still get a nostalgic joy out of Swamp Thing making jokes about littering.

Whereas “Swamp Thing” was a bad movie, I view “Return of Swamp Thing” as a good-bad movie. It has better effects and better focus and proudly wears its stupidity on its sleeve, asking the audience to laugh along with it. While it’s far from a dignified portrayal of one of my favorite comic book characters, it’s still a fun movie. And that opening sequence still kicks ass.

Grade: C+ (as in, “Creedence Clearwater Revival and Swamp Thing are inseparable in my mind, now”.)

The Shining (1980)

2011-09-28T15:37:00.004-04:00

Honestly, I don’t think I’m a qualified-enough reviewer of cinematic art to effectively critique the work of Stanley Kubrick. His films are so dense with technical innovation, subliminal messages, recurring themes and atmospheric novelties that a proper “review” of his movies could fill a novel. So instead, for this article, I feel far more interested in comparing the film to the original novel by Stephen King (which I just finished reading for the first time the other day)… and why I think Stanley Kubrick’s adaptation is better in practically every way.

Recovering alcoholic Jack Torrance (Jack Nicholson) has just taken on the job of winter caretaker for the century-old Overlook Hotel. Snowed-in for five months with his wife, Wendy (Shelly Duvall), and their five year-old son, Danny (Danny Lloyd), it doesn’t take them long to recognize a supernatural malignancy within the hotel, slowly creeping into their lives. Danny has a special gift called a “shine” that gives him certain precognitive and clairvoyant powers. The Overlook desperately wants Danny’s talents and uses Jack’s weaknesses to get him, gradually pushing Jack over the edge. As the hotel “comes alive” with the spirits haunting it, Wendy and Danny will have to face the very real threat of Jack and his axe.

I’ll concede that King’s “The Shining” and Kubrick’s “The Shining” had two very different goals. King’s original novel was his way of dealing with his own recovering alcoholism and frustrations with raising a young child and how those two qualities could lead a loving father to contemplate (or in Jack’s case, actually perform) horrible acts of violence. Kubrick’s version leaves in the alcoholism, but at the expense of the “loving father” angle. I think this is one of the few failings of the film adaptation, as Jack is never shown to ever have any love for his family. He begins the film being irritated and short with them, by the one hour mark he’s cursing at his wife at the top of his lungs and forty-five minutes after that he’s trying to kill them all. Jack’s character arc in the novel is a much more tragic downfall, whereas in the movie, he’s a guy on the brink who just needs the tiniest of nudges to lose it (and the Overlook provides such a nudge).

To get one more criticism of the film out of the way, I’d say that it absolutely squanders the character of Dick Hollorann, which is an especially considerable crime, as Scatman Crothers was the ideal choice for the character and plays his few scenes with an immense amount of heart. In the novel, Hollorann had a dueling narrative that acted as regular interludes away from the Overlook, giving him a much larger role. In a way, I can understand why Kubrick reduced his necessity to the plot, as he was trying to create a claustrophobic, trapped atmosphere for the viewer, which constant cuts to Florida would only impede. However, it makes Hollorann almost comical, in a way, as he’s dead seconds after making his big comeback (The Simpsons did a great parody of this with Groundskeeper Willie in their “The Shinning” spoof).

But those major qualms aside, I’ll tell you why I found Kubrick’s version superior to King’s: Kubrick’s “The Shining” is scary while King’s “The Shining” is silly.

And I don’t believe King meant for his novel to be so goofy; that it was an unintentional result of some rather ill-conceived sequences, particularly during the climax, that are just so ridiculous no form of prose could make them not come across as hilariously absurd. Kubrick, meanwhile, takes sequences or set pieces that were accidentally humorous in King’s novel and reworks them to frightening and unsettling effect (or just drops them completely).

A good example would be the scene with the guy in the dog costume. In the movie, it is a short moment where Shelly Duvall sees a guy in a dog suit about to go down on an old man in one of the rooms. It’s very quick; lasting only long-enough to make the audience go, “What the HELL did I just see!?” The brevity gives it startling power. In the book, it’s a prolonged sequence where Danny is trying to leave his room but is blocked by the dog-man at the end of the hallway. The guy in the dog costume is walking around on all fours, saying “Bow wow ruff ruff woof” and talking about how he’s going to bite Danny’s penis off. Danny then runs away and hears the dog-man in another room, talking in a Big Bad Wolf imitation about how much he loves giving blowjobs, even going so far as to say lines to the effect of, “I’m gonna huff and I’m gonna puff and I’m gonna bloooooowww your dick in!”

I had to set the book down, I was laughing so hard.

As for the hedge animals vs. the hedge maze, that’s a bit of a toss-up. The hedge maze is merely a set piece that offers an almost convenient resolution to Jack’s threat at the end, though it made for some great suspense. The hedge animals were a special effect that just wouldn’t work on film. For their first couple of appearances in the novel, they only move when the characters aren’t looking at them, and to King’s credit, he writes the scenes very well, ramping up the tension, as the animals are so spread out the characters can’t look at all of them at once. Unfortunately, at the end, the animals come completely to life and attack en masse, whether the characters are looking at them or not. No matter how King tried to describe them, my mind’s eye could not picture “evil man-eating bushes” as anything other than silly. The miniseries adaptation of “The Shining”, though I haven’t seen it in years, I don't recall doing a very good job of realizing the hedge animals, either. So as a concession, I was satisfied with the hedge maze.

The real point where the book just completely falls apart, and where the two versions deviate the most, is the climax. The climax in the book is one of the stupidest things I have ever read and left a pretty foul taste in my mouth, even though I’d enjoyed most of what had come before it.

So Jack (armed with an oversized croquet mallet) corners Danny on a second floor hallway. It turns out that Jack is actually just possessed by the demons of the hotel and Danny manages to speak to his father inside. Jack tells Danny to “run” while he “fights” the ghosts inside him. Jack proceeds to start bonking himself in the head with the mallet, Looney Tunes-style, until he kills himself. The Overlook then takes control of Jack’s corpse, bringing him back to life as a zombie. Zombie-Jack is about to kill Danny when Danny reminds him of that god awful plot device, the boiler, and that it’s about to blow. The zombie screams “Oh shit, I forgot!” and then runs away.

As Danny, Wendy and Hallorann make their escape, they hear the zombie traveling down to the basement in the elevator basically screaming “FUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKK!!!!” all the way down. The zombie then pulls a Boris from “GoldenEye”, dumping the boiler “just in time”, then raising his arms into the air to scream “I am invincible” in triumph (okay, the zombie screams, “I won” but whatever) before having the boiler explode in his face, anyway.

After escaping just as the Overlook explodes right behind them like a bad Michael Bay flick (to which Hallorann remarks, “This must be what Superman feels like!” as the explosion propels him through the air), they watch the hedge animals run around on fire, trying to escape, then go the tool shed to get some blankets. Hallorann then looks at the exploding Overlook and sees what he describes as a giant manta ray ascend from the smoke before exploding into millions of wasps.

I made none of that up. That is how the book ends. And it is idiotic.

Conversely, Kubrick’s finale is far less bombastic and ridiculous, opting for a moodier conclusion that leaves the audience with a lingering sensation of dread (the Overlook is still up there… waiting…). I admit that I never quite “got” what Jack was doing in that photograph from the 20s. I always assumed that the Overlook merely “absorbed” him into itself, though I understand Kubrick’s intention was that Jack was a reincarnation of a previous employee? It’s better left up to interpretation, I suppose, and I’ll take it over giant manta rays and Bugs Bunny mallet-bonking, any day.

Still, there were some moments in the book I think Kubrick could have brought to life marvelously. Though the hedge animals had been cut, the scene from the book where Danny gets trapped inside the cement rings on the playground, with a creature in there with him, was one of the most genuinely heart-pounding moments of the novel; and something Kubrick could have done a great job with (you can even see the cement rings in the background behind the hedge maze in several scenes).

Kubrick’s version has incredible music and atmosphere and the constant movement of the steadicam (which was pioneered with this flick) really keeps you tense and off-kilter, as you round corners at the same pace as the characters, never knowing what you'll find on the other side. It’s long and a bit thin on characterization, and the waste of Scatman Crothers was a major disappointment, but the end result is still something fantastic. Kubrick’s “The Shining” is one of those rare moments where the adaptation really exceeds the source material, “fixing” just about everything that didn’t work in the novel.

Grade: A (as in, “Although I’ve read that King hated the thing when he first saw it. Not enough giant manta rays and explosions for his tastes, I suppose”.)

Hellraiser (Boom! Studios) #5

2011-09-14T16:09:00.005-04:00

Publication date: September, 2011

Written by: Clive Barker and Christopher Monfette
Art by: Jesus Hervas
Colors by: Darrin Moore
Lettering by: Travis Lanham
Edited by: Ian Brill

“Requiem, Part One”

With “Requiem”, Boom! Studio’s “Hellraiser” comic enters its second story arc, though it somewhat feels like we missed one in-between. “Pursuit of the Flesh” ended with a long-awaited reunion between Kirsty and Pinhead, in which the Cenobite speaks cryptically of their next fated encounter and the culmination of his years of scheming. One issue later and here we are; Kirsty and Pinhead are now having their next fated encounter and Pinhead’s schemes are coming to fruition.

That was fast.

On her way to Nebraska, Kirsty leaves a goodbye message to an unknown person, ready to deliver the puzzle box to Samuel Hess (the farmer) and either save her fellow Harrowers or die in the process. Kirsty arrives at the barn to find the Harrowers dead and Hess waiting for her. The box is opened and Pinhead steps through the Schism to greet her once more. The encounter surprises even her, however, as Pinhead offers equal sacrifice for her friends whom he had slain; executing the Chatterer, Butterball and, once the Female escapes, Hess. And why? He wants Kirsty to take his place. Down an Argentina, a well-armed young blonde girl receives Kirsty’s message and swears to find her mother.

If this had been issue #8 or issue #9, this would have been fantastic. It brings all the plot threads together then eliminates two sets of characters and introduces a new player in preparation for the next direction. The problem is that after “Pursuit of the Flesh”’s decompressed pace and slow unraveling of the conflict, this issue is akin to a kid cutting in front of the lunch-line. The Harrowers, so recently introduced and given highly-detailed and fascinating origins are already dead. The Classic Cenobites, brought back from oblivion only to be used as window-dressing for four issues are now nearly all deceased (again) as well. And, as mentioned before, the dread of Pinhead’s and Kirsty’s prophesized final showdown is somewhat neutered when it occurs an issue later.

The problem isn’t necessarily that this is a bad issue, it’s more that it seems to be in such a hurry that it gets ahead of itself.

But, letting go of the pacing issue, I really dug what was going on in here. While the moments have been brief, Pinhead has been shown to have either a limited affection or profound respect for his original Cenobite underlings. In “Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth”, after creating his new set of (ridiculously awful) Cenobites, he even criticizes them as “a shadow of my former troops”. And they certainly follow him loyally and without question, showing their trust in him. So when Pinhead begins offing them to level the sacrificial playing field, you can tell that it was indeed a sacrifice for him and not just another dull slaughter.

While I thought the “romance” between Pinhead and the Female hinted at earlier in the series was rather shallow, Pinhead’s request to bid a “tearful” farewell to her for Kirsty’s vengeful satisfaction was a great display of his twisted concept of “justice” and “balance”. In a way, you could almost write off the unconvincing nature of their romance as Pinhead merely playing a part he was no longer emotionally capable of understanding in preparation for this moment. He took someone Kirsty loved away from her so, in order to balance things out, he would have to “love” someone and then have them taken away later on.

But again, as great as the moment is, it suffers from the fact that this is the second time the Classic Cenobites have all been killed, having been executed by Channard in “Hellbound: Hellraiser II”. There was never any explanation as to how they came back for this series, either. With the exception of Chatterer (who's later appearances were written off as being a different guy with a similar gimmick), the film series had been very consistent about keeping them in the grave; dead is dead even for the Cenobites. So knowing that they could just be brought back the next time a writer is feeling nostalgic for the first couple of movies kind of takes the edge off. And, again, they were dreadfully under-utilized in the previous arc, appearing for only a handful of panels and doing nothing. I think an arc or even a series of standalone stories set between “Pursuit of the Flesh” and “Requiem” showcasing the Classic Cenobites (maybe even covering their resurrection) would have been a nice way to give them more face time, make their demise here have more impact and solve the problem of Kirsty’s showdown with Pinhead happening way too soon for the pace of the arc.

But to step away from the negative, Butterball’s return was a great surprise moment (as he hadn’t been shown in any of the previous issues). The cover might have ruined the moment for some by having him featured on it, but I actually didn’t pay any mind to that; presuming that Nick Percival was just drawing whatever “Hellraiser” characters he could remember and the cover didn’t reflect the contents of the book.

Well, we’re five issues in and already on our third artist for this series. Not exactly a terrific stat, but the tone of the art has been mercifully consistent so none of the visual shifts have been too jarring. Hervas’s art is very readable though somewhat exaggerated with the facial features, opting less for photo-realism of the human visage in exchange for more expressiveness. The characters aren’t hideous “cartoons”, but the likenesses are almost “cute” at times (Female on page 13 comes to mind). I like the style, actually, as it strikes a nice middle-ground between trying too hard to be realistic and going overboard on the exaggerated anatomy. I mean, just look at Pinhead’s smile on page 19:

That is just superb.

“Requiem, Part One” is a good issue that unfortunately came too soon, like skipping three chapters ahead in a really good book. If they could do some “bonus” stories and wedge them in-between the two arcs for the trade paperback, I think that would tidy up my complaint and rescue the narrative pace a bit. As it is, the contents of the story are great, but we haven’t had time to get to form any strong bonds with these characters whose deaths are supposed to be so emotionally meaningful.

Grade: B- (as in, “But I forgot to mention the blonde girl. Is that… Tiffany?”)

The Mechanical Man (1921)

2011-09-09T23:57:00.002-04:00

“The Mechanical Man” by Director/Writer/Star Andre Deed is more a lesson in why films should be properly preserved for future generations than an enthralling cinematic masterpiece. A silent film from Italy, it was believed lost for decades until a fragment of a Portuguese version of the film turned up in Brazil in the early 2000s. Only 25 minutes of the original 80 minute film, what’s left of “The Mechanical Man” is nothing more than a messy context-less clip show that, even with the aid of additional plot summarizing text cards, will have you scratching your skull in confusion.

Escaping from a prison hospital, the evil gang leader Mado (Valentina Frascaroli) has stolen blueprints for an unstoppable robot called the Mechanical Man. Controlling the fiend from a massive switchboard, Mado sends it on a crime spree that leaves the police utterly powerless to prevent. Meanwhile, what I’m supposed to believe is our hero, Saltarello (Andre Deed), gets, like, arrested. Or something. And then… saves the day? I’m sorry, it’s just really hard to follow this thing. Anyhow, some guy who apparently was really important in the missing 55 minutes of this film, Professor D’Ara (Gabriel Moreau), builds a second Mechanical Man and the two giant robots duke it out at a crowded opera house.

The majority of the missing segments come from the beginning of the film... and really any parts that don’t involve a giant robot smashing stuff. So while that leaves us with lots of admittedly ahead of their time and ambitious special effects, there’s pretty much no narrative cohesion to this thing whatsoever. The additional text cards tell you who each character is and what their role is supposed to portray, but even when viewing what remains of the film, you simply can’t come to grips with that on your own. Even the fragments of this film appear to be in fragments and there’s lots of switching and flipping from scene to scene in only a handful of seconds; you hardly get a chance to sort out what you’re looking at before the scene changes to some seemingly random picture of a dog yapping. This problem persists mostly during the first ten or so minutes of the movie, thankfully, and after that things get marginally less spastic.

The aforementioned special effects are quite impressive by 1921 standards, going beyond just a guy in a big metal suit shuffling around with his arms outstretched. There’s a really fantastic chase sequence where our hero and his girl, Elena (Mathilde Lambert) try to escape the Mechanical Man in their motorcar and the thing proceeds to keep pace with them on foot. The Mechanical Man’s various rampages aren’t half-bad on the visuals, either, as the robot blasts through doors with a flamethrower and hurls people off balconies. The climactic battle at the opera house, while short, was probably a stunning sight back in 1921.

To date, Alpha Video is the only company to release the surviving fragment of “The Mechanical Man” on home video, which is a shame, as Alpha Video are known for their cheap, bargain bin DVDs of public domain films. It would be great to see what companies like Kino or Image Entertainment could do with this, as they’re the go-to guys for restored silent films, but for now I supposed we should be grateful for what we can get. Alpha Video’s release is in predictably terrible shape, with random tinting going on all over the film (one moment it’s green, then yellow, then blue, then red, with no rhyme or reason). The summarizing text cards would have been a nice gesture if they’d been distributed throughout the movie to put the scenes in context. Instead, you get one complete plot summary at the beginning of the film and then you’re thrown directly into the strung-together fragments, left to your own devices to make sense of the whole thing. There’s also a newly recorded techno music score that’s absolutely god awful, right down to a robot voice singing along with the film and sound effects added to an explosion at the end (a big no-no that defeats the purpose of a silent movie).

I feel I should be clearer that I’m not so much judging the movie-itself, as I honestly can’t, since only 40% of it still exists. I’m more criticizing the release of that 40%. I feel more could be done to restore this shard of cinematic history than what a low-budget public domain DVD company is willing to provide. From what I can glean from “The Mechanical Man”, it’s an impressive display of vintage special effects and an important stepping stone in the advancement of science fiction cinema; I’m pretty sure this is the first “evil robot kills people” movie in history, even preceding the more well-known “Metropolis” by six years. I also wouldn’t be surprised if it inspired the 1941 Paramount Pictures Superman short, “The Mechanical Monsters”, which also dealt with a criminal using switchboard-controlled robots to steal jewels.

Unfortunately, we may never get to see “The Mechanical Man” in its entirety, as recovering extinct silent films is strictly the luck of the draw. What remains could certainly be more interesting were it properly restored, given an appropriate score and had the summarizing text cards distributed between scenes instead of bunched up at the beginning. Until that day comes, well, you can get the thing for $7 bucks. Thanks Alpha Video. Thanks a lot.

Grade: N/A (as in, “Now applying a letter grade just wouldn’t be fair of me, would it?”)

Hellraiser: Hellworld (2005)

2011-09-01T17:25:00.003-04:00

What’s this? A “Hellraiser” movie? And it’s starring Lance Henriksen? Holy shit! This is gonna be awesome!

Two years after their closest friend died playing the “Hellraiser” MMORPG called “Hellworld”, a group of friends decide to get over the tragedy by attending a “Hellworld” themed party at a secluded mansion. The host of the party (Lance Henriksen) has made sure that all the wildest and most hedonistic party-games are available to his guests, who traverse the winding corridors of the manner from one orgy to another. But as they live it up, they are each hunted one-by-one by Pinhead (Doug Bradley) and his gruesome Cenobites (Chatterer and Bound). Soon, only the feisty Chelsea (Katheryn Winnick) and melancholy Jake (Christopher Jacot) are left... but is the whole thing in their head?

What the fuck is this garbage?

The straight-to-video “Hellraiser” series had been moving at a great pace, with “Inferno”, “Hellseeker” and “Deader” taking a low-key anthology approach to the mythos of the franchise and being all the better for it. “Hellworld”, at the slightest of glances, would seem to continue that trend, being unconnected in narrative to the previous installments and even boasting the same director (Rick Bota) as the last two. Unfortunately, “Hellworld” is a sequel that seems eager to be a “Hellraiser” film in name only, bucking all the traditions of the franchise in exchange for an insultingly generic slasher film trapping.

Right off the bat, “Hellworld” hits audiences over the head with the revelation that it isn’t in the same continuity as the previous films. It takes an approach similar to “Wes Craven’s New Nightmare”, being set in the “real world” where “Hellraiser” is just a series of films and a pile of merchandise. This isn’t exactly new territory for “Hellraiser”, either. The short prose story, “Look, See” by Nicholas Vince offered a similar concept (so in a way, “Hellworld” and “Look, See” share a continuity… which is very unfortunate for “Look, See”). This is almost a relief, come to think of it, as the movie is so terrible you’ll look for any excuse to pretend it never happened. And since it doesn’t share canonicity with the preceding seven films, you’ve got your excuse to ignore it right there.

“Hellworld” desperately wants to do something different with the franchise, which isn’t a foul intention per se, but there comes a point where you discard so many traditions and elements of a franchise in an effort to creatively branch-out that you lose everything that makes it a part of that franchise (think “Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday”). And more so than that, it seeks to be “different” by becoming a clone of every uninspired slasher film on the market. It seems disrespectful to the character of Pinhead to have him chasing stupid teens around a house with a surgical bone cleaver, chopping their heads off as soon as he catches up to them or jamming spikes through their faces after following them through the woods. If “Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth” was Pinhead pretending to be Freddy Krueger, “Hellworld” is Pinhead pretending to be Jason Voorhees. And that’s not a compliment even if it sounds like one.

Worse yet, the film is self-aware that it’s breaking the established rules of the franchise in a transparent attempt to “up the stakes”, as it were. It’s done in an obnoxious “Scream”-like fashion, as main character Chelsea begins citing “the rules of a Hellraiser movie” to Lance Henriksen. But rather than feel like there’s a greater sense of danger because the rules no longer apply, it simply leaves the characters becoming as frustrated as the audience because they recognize the glowing errors as much as we do.

If I can give the film any credit, I suppose it’s that it is consistent with itself. We find at the end that the entire movie was nothing more than a drug-induced hallucination on part of the teenagers, who have all been kidnapped and drugged by Henriksen. So the “reality” is that there was never any Pinhead or puzzle box and thus no need for any “rules”. It was all a “fake-out”. …Except at the end of the movie, when Pinhead turns out to be real for a dully telegraphed “shock” finale.

“Hellworld” is surprisingly star-studded, depending on your definition of “star”, I suppose. Lance Henriksen sleepwalks his way through a paycheck, and I honestly can’t blame him for any of it. The character Derrick is played by Khary Payton who has become a popular voice actor in recent years (Cyborg from “Teen Titans”, most notably, though he currently voices Aqualad on “Young Justice”). And you have Henry Cavill as the generic asshole character, a sharp contrast from the role you’ll be recognizing him for in about a year: Superman.

Perhaps Payton aside (who seems to be the only actor really trying in this picture), everyone is sure to get on your nerves, not that they had much to work with. There’s a scene where Chelsea confronts Henriksen’s unnamed character and delivers this brilliant oneliner before roundhouse-kicking him off a balcony: “Goodbye… ASSHOLE!”

“Hellraiser: Hellworld” was bad-enough to put the franchise back in the grave for another six years, with the next installment, “Hellraiser: Revelations”, not coming out until October of 2011. It’s such a tremendous misstep for the straight-to-video series, which was really gaining momentum until “Hellworld” brought it to a dead stop.

Grade: F (as in, “For Christ’s sake, the back of the DVD box has stills from ‘Hellraiser: Bloodline’ on it! That’s how much the people putting this film together gave a shit”.)

Hellraiser (Boom! Studios) #4

2011-08-31T19:41:00.008-04:00

Publication date: August, 2011

Written by: Clive Barker and Christopher Monfette
Art by: Stephen Thompson
Colors by: Jordie Bellaire
Lettering by: Travis Lanham
Edited by: Ian Brill

“Pursuit of the Flesh, Part Four”

Another month, another installment of “Hellraiser” and damn, does it feel good to be able to say something like that. While the cinematic future of the franchise may look utterly bleak (“Hellraiser: Revelations” is coming straight to video in October... without Doug Bradley), we’re getting some damn good fiction on the comic book front, with Boom! Studio’s “Hellraiser” title once again offering a satisfying fix.

This issue sees Kirsty dispatching the Harrowers to pursue individual missions following the death of her husband, Edgar, in the previous issue. Meanwhile, the “prince” of an underground civilization of homeless people finds the Lament Configuration and brings it home to his father, the king. Kirsty’s search for the box leads her to the tunnels beneath the subway, where the box is accidentally opened and dozens are mercilessly slaughtered. Kirsty recovers the box and confronts Pinhead, who lets slip hints about his overall plan to find salvation; a plan that involves Kirsty. As this is going on, the other Harrowers learn about the farmer who stalked Edgar before his death, just in time to be captured by the maniac, who sends Kirsty a threatening message to bring him the box or the Harrowers die.

Pinhead’s scheme for salvation, begun in the first issue, is finally referenced again as the seemingly random narrative elements of the previous installments begin to coalesce. The confrontation between Kirsty and Pinhead was well done, especially the dramatic two-page spread by artist Stephen Thompson. There’s a nice character dissection of Kirsty as Pinhead strips her of her faux-heroism and shines a spotlight on her true motivations for hunting the puzzle boxes: obsession. While Kirsty is still our protagonist, she’s revealed to have some more shades of grey to her than a typical hero, casting a shadow of insincerity upon some of her previously "noble" activities, such as trying to protect the family in issue #2.

At the same time, Pinhead’s cryptic hints about his overarching scheme finally move that story element along, as it’s gone verbally unaddressed since the start of the series. For the sake of being speculative, it seems as though Pinhead might be trying to maneuver Kirsty into taking his place as the General of the Cenobites; his tormenting of her throughout three previous movies and who knows how many unrecorded adventures between then and now as merely a matter of preparing her for the role. In that regard, it paints Pinhead as a very ambitious plotter, whose plan to escape Leviathan dates back well before the start of this series. It works for me, especially in how it explains why Pinhead is so willing to make bargains with her where he wouldn’t for anybody else (there’s an extra dimension to their last encounter in “Hellraiser: Hellseeker” now, too).

Of course, my guess could prove completely incorrect in the future, but we’ll just have to wait and see.

In a nice moment of offhand continuity, the characters reference the Harrowers as being an ancient society who have existed in many forms, thusly providing a sideways explanation for why the current Harrowers bear no resemblance to the incompetent Harrowers from the previous comic book series.

If I had any major problems with this issue it would have to be the utterly random inclusion of the subterranean kingdom of homeless people. It was very theatrical and goofy and just comes completely out of the blue. I’m sure that it wasn’t introduced for no reason and will prove to have some bearing on future stories, but as it stands in this issue, it’s just a really silly means of facilitating a slaughterfest.

And on that note, Pinhead really seems to be breaking “the rules” in this series. Either the Lament Configuration can be opened with the slightest bumps and taps with no desire involved whatsoever on the part of the individual touching it, or Pinhead is just straight-up opening that thing on his own and killing everyone within reach. It all seems very, I dunno, “Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth”; the bit at the end where Pinhead and the Cenobites butcher everyone in the night club, particularly. I know this sort of storytelling isn’t undocumented even in the previous “Hellraiser” comics (I recall a story where a pianist uses the box to eviscerate an entire concert hall full of innocent spectators), but it’s definitely a departure from how the owner’s manual says the box is supposed to work.

But like I said in my review for the third issue, I think it might be Pinhead breaking the rules on purpose to move his plans forward (thus far, all the auto-activations of the box and the mass killings that accompany it have been to get at Kirsty). In that regard, it makes sense; so I hope it works out that way and doesn’t turn out to be just be cool violence for the sake of cool violence.

And last but not least, I think colorist Jordie Bellair deserves some kudos, especially for capturing the visual of the Cenobites returning to the box from the original film. He used kind of a blue-tinted TV static effect, but it looked great.

Grade: B- (as in, “But if Barker wanted to use a race of subterranean weirdos he could’ve just gone with a reference to ‘Transmutations’ or ‘Nightbreed’. On second thought, maybe we’re better off this way”.)

The Willies (1990)

2011-08-30T11:59:00.003-04:00

Those bargain bins of cheap, under $10 DVDs are a terrifying gamble. Sometimes you emerge with enjoyable garbage like “The Legend of Boggy Creek”. And sometimes you emerge with cinematic refuse best left buried at the very bottom, like “The Chilling”. Or, in this case, a 1990 straight to video anthology horror flick for preteens called “The Willies”.

While it won’t actually succeed in giving you “the willies”, it may just give you a brain tumor.

Three juveniles (Sean Astin, Jason Horst and Joshua Miller) are having a camping trip in their backyard, so that means spooky stories. But rather than trade tired old ghost tales, they opt for supernatural urban legends of the “heard from a friend of a friend” variety that are supposedly true.

The movie opens with a trio of short vignettes meant more to gross you out than frighten you. The first one involves a fat woman accidentally eating a deep fried rat at a chicken restaurant. The second is a spoof on the old urban legend about Disney’s Haunted Mansion, involving an old man who is so scared by the ride he has a heart attack, resulting in the owners making the ride “wussier” for the public. The third sees an old lady bathing her poodle and trying to dry him off in the microwave, which naturally causes the dog to explode like it had just eaten a hand grenade.

The vignettes set the extremely juvenile tone that “The Willies” goes with, being less concerned with scaring the audience than making them lose their lunch. Rated PG-13, you’ll notice most prominently in these vignettes that despite some of the violence, there’s no blood. Or no red blood, that is. A woman gets her throat cut and the wound squirts green slime in the second segment. While in the third, the poodle explodes, leaving globs of orange and brown goo everywhere. I’d call this “stupid”, but that might be missing the point. This movie seems pretty proud of its stupidity and wears it on its sleeve.

Following the vignettes, we get two stories that seem meant to be both funny and scary but succeed in neither department.

The first involves a nerdy elementary school kid (Ian Fried) being picked on by three classmates as well as his own teacher. After encountering a horrifying monster in the boy’s room, he uses the opportunity to get revenge on the people who bullied him.

Probably the “best” of the stories; I rather liked the goofy-looking monster and the story seemed like something traditional-enough I might have read a variation of it in one of those cheap paperback books of ghost stories for kids in elementary school. But like the rest of the movie, it suffers from god awful acting on the part of the children, whom you just want to strangle. Character actress Kathleen Freeman plays the evil teacher and, along with James Karen as the janitor, is probably the best talent in the film.

The final story is going to tax your endurance. An overweight kid with a bad attitude (Michael Bower) has a strange and morbid hobby: he likes to collect dead flies. Unfortunately, his desire to attract flies leads him to steal a special, unstable new fertilizer from a neighbor’s farm. There is an actual I-kid-you-not crossover with the cast and set of “Growing Pains”, followed by three giant fly monsters that proceed to eat the fatso’s arms off.

Holy shit, it’s Donkeylips from Nickelodeon’s “Salute Your Shorts”! That takes me back.

Anyway, Michael Bower is pretty obnoxious in this one, but his character is supposed to be. One of those “his comeuppance is going to feel real satisfying” sort of deals for the audience. Unfortunately, the segment just wanes on and on and on as you watch this brat for what feels like an eternity, just waiting for him to get his just desserts and end this stupid flick. It’s an especially lackluster way to end the movie, as the previous segment featured quite a bit of monster footage as the creature in the bathroom tormented the kid through the whole duration of the story. This one takes the more traditional route of trying to build toward the twist, but as it keeps compounding more and more reasons to hate the kid, your patience just might not make it to the conclusion.

And naturally, the move ends with the campers finding out one of the yarns they spun was true, and Director Brian Peck does his level best to telegraph it as obviously as possible.

Honestly, I don’t have a problem with horror movies aimed towards kids. “The Gate” is a favorite of mine and I dig “The Monster Squad” when I’m in the right mood. But “The Willies” is just a cheap, badly acted, badly written and badly made horror movie that’s too immature for even the 12 year-olds it was geared for. And hey, nothing says “quality” like a visible boom mike.

Grade: F (as in, “For including Kirk Cameron in any capacity, that’s a mandatory ‘F’.”)

Don't Be Afraid of the Dark (2011)

2011-08-27T15:36:00.003-04:00

As a remake of the original 1973 TV movie, “Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark” manages to hit that perfect balance between “slavishly similar to the source” and “it only kept the title” that a lot of remakes fail to find. If you’ve seen the 1973 version (and, let’s be honest, chances are you haven’t) then you’ll notice a lot of the basic similarities right off the bat: old dark house, tiny creatures released from a sealed pit, trying to kidnap the main character, etc. But this version by Director Troy Nixey boils the film down to its essential elements and, apart from recapturing a few of the more notable scenes from the original, goes its own way and does its own thing. And that’s the kind of remake I appreciate.

Alex (Guy Pierce) and Kim (Katie Holmes) have moved into the old Blackwood estate to restore it for their clientele. Along for the ride is Alex’s young daughter from a previous marriage, Sally (Bailee Madison), who isn’t happy about leaving her mother to come live in a spooky mansion with her workaholic dad and stepmom. While exploring the house, Sally finds a hidden basement and, after messing with a bolted-up furnace, releases a legion of tiny, whispering creatures that live in darkness. The creatures begin tormenting poor Sally, offering to be her friend. But they’re lying, of course. What they actually want is to eat her teeth.

The original “Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark” was a very short film; more or less than 70 minutes, I think. That was both its blessing and its curse, as the compacted runtime left it no opportunity to explain the whys, wheres or hows of the monsters, making them more mysterious and all the creepier for it. On the other hand, it meant that the movie ended just as soon as it started getting good. The beefier length of Nixey’s version is once again a blessing and a curse, but in the polar opposite of ways. We get an origin for the creatures, which I felt took away from their frightening and enigmatic nature. But at 99 minutes, we also get a lot more scenes of creepiness as well as a smoother narrative flow to flesh out the characters.

While the 70s version dealt with the monsters driving a housewife to madness, this version decides to prey upon a gloomy little kid. I honestly liked that alteration from the source, as it added a different dimension to the old trope of “character tries to tell friends about the monster and no one will believe them”. Also, making the victim smaller and weaker increased the threat of the monsters, which an adult female should realistically be able to dropkick even when at their most panicky. Nixey does a lot of work fleshing out Sally’s predicament and personality, from her over-medicating mother to her career-focused father, with the only person really willing to listen to her being Katie Holmes’ stepmother character, who Sally inherently resents because she’s her stepmom. The dysfunctional family elements are executed well and you feel sorry for the girl, who is stuck in a terrifying position with absolutely no one to turn to.

A good chunk of the film is dedicated to exploring the history and origin of the tiny monsters, and as I said, I felt they were better left without explanation. But still, what we got wasn’t half bad, either. Writers Guillermo del Toro (who also produced the film) and Matthew Robbins conjure up a decent explanation for the creatures, tying them into Celtic myths about child-napping fairies. Nixey goes the extra mile by adding unaddressed visual elements to the sets that mostly only mythology buffs would recognize, such as runes above the furnace door or a fairy ring in the garden.

I think the best part about the history lesson was the legacy of Blackwood-himself, particularly the plethora of spooky artwork that Holmes’s character uncovers at the library and in the basement. Now, the idea that these fairies (okay, I can’t call them that; “tiny monsters” it is) are hunting for children’s teeth is a little… random and silly-sounding, but once again, they tie it into the internal and quasi-historical mythology of the film, so it at least makes coherent sense. And hey, laugh now, but when you’ve got a little goblin jamming its claws in your mouth, ripping out your bicuspids, it suddenly won’t seem quite so stupid and nonthreatening.

The tiny creatures are brought to life via CG animation, and though their lanky-limbed, hunchbacked designs are very gruesome, they still suffer from the same problem that the tiny monsters in the original film had: they look great when shrouded in darkness and cheesy and fake when given revealing lighting. The original monsters were all just people in rubber masks and you could tell as much whenever the lighting was bright-enough to show them in all their cheap glory. When you see the CG critters in this version, they look superb as nothing but glowing eyes and grasping claws, swiping from the shadows. But when the movie decides to show them off, you can tell they’re just cartoons and that takes away from their frightening impact.

The R-rating for this film seemed excessive as there are hardly any vulgar elements to speak of. The violence is pretty subdued with only a couple moments standing out, but still nothing I haven’t seen in PG-13 rated flicks. If the film’s Wikipedia article is to be believed, del Toro and Nixey actually shot for a PG-13 rating but wound up with an R from the MPAA because of “pervasive scariness”. Well, it definitely does have a very spooky atmosphere and the tiny monsters can be pretty creepy when they’re kept in the dark, but I still think the MPAA were being too hard on the film (so what else is new?).

“Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark” is a case of give and take with its inspiration, being better in some places and lacking in others. As a remake, it only suffers when it tries to recreate scenes from the original but “more exciting” (they really overdo the part where the handyman is trapped in the basement with the critters). Thankfully, it very seldom tries to recreate scenes wholesale and is more interested in going in its own direction with the premise. So as a film left to stand alone on its own merits, I think it’s a pretty solid horror movie that could have stood to benefit from a “less is more” approach, if ever so slightly.

Grade: B- (“But the monsters looked too much like Gollum”.)

Poltergeist (1982)

2011-07-31T13:49:00.002-04:00

“Poltergeist” represents something of a turning point for the haunted house subgenre of horror. No more creaking doors or bumps in the night or transparent phantoms seen briefly out of the corner of your eye. “Poltergeist” is a haunted house movie filmed strictly through the prism of a Hollywood blockbuster. Loud, bombastic and in-your-face, “Poltergeist” is the antithesis of the “old dark house”-style, feeling closer to a summer action flick than a ghost story. The “ghosts” are more like elaborate monsters of every shape and size; from man-eating trees to murderous clowns to giant skulls to whatever the hell that growling thing in the hallway was. In a lot of ways, Hollywood’s vision of the haunted house film hasn’t recovered, with the classic approach being deemed "too boring" and mostly retired. You can blame “Poltergeist” for that, I suppose. But bear in mind, if it weren’t for “Poltergeist”, I doubt we’d have ever gotten flicks like “Ghostbusters”, “House” or “Beetlejuice”, which all take the same approach to casting ghosts as crazy monsters instead of cold spots in the middle of the living room.

And you can hate the trend it started all you want, but whether or not its successors sucked, the original “Poltergeist” is still an awesome movie.

The Freeling house in scenic Cuesta Verde, California has suddenly come under siege by malevolent forces from beyond the grave. The darkest spirit abducts young Carol Anne (Heather O’Rourke), stealing her away to another dimension. As the house grows more violent, Steve (Craig T. Nelson) and Diane (JoBeth Williams) take extreme measures to rescue their daughter, hiring a professional medium (Zelda Rubinstein) and a team of parapsychologists. They find the entrance to the other side, but the spirits of the house won’t give Carol Anne up without a fight.

I’ve probably seen this movie a thousand times and I don’t think I’ve ever gotten sick of it. I do prefer the traditional take on haunted house flicks; the “less is more” technique. And I do hate that most Hollywood haunted house pictures have come to discard that tradition for special effects and a greater sense of “life or death conflict”. Yet I still love “Poltergeist”.

But more than just turning the standard haunted house flick into a special effects-driven summer blockbuster, “Poltergeist” changes the formula up in other ways that are far less superficial. The standard for haunted house flicks is that the spirits want the intruding family to get out. “Poltergeist”, on the other hand, features spirits that want the intruding family to stay. Like, forever. Though the house is populated by monsters, the house-itself eventually becomes a monster by the film’s climax; as a closet transforms into the Sarlaac Pit and tries to eat all the children so that it can devour their “life force”. Rather than scare the family away, the house has far more malevolent designs for them.

Though not the first time a haunted house film has done the “it won’t let us leave!” routine, I think “Poltergeist” is one of the best to pull it off. The usual explanation is that the house wants to add the family to its stable of ghostly prisoners, but in this case, the house just wants to plain ole eat them. And I dunno, that’s just kinda freaky.

For as long as the film has been around, there’s been the argument of who really directed it: Steven Spielberg or Tobe Hooper? Wikipedia’s “Poltergeist” article has a pretty good (and completely sourced, so chill) section regarding the matter, though it’s far from conclusive. The gist I get, though, is that there’s a bit of each of them in the film. And that’s certainly clear when you watch it. Steven Spielberg’s soft and friendly attitude is ever-present, with the adorable children and the corny slapstick jokes, but married with Spielberg’s explosive special effects-showcasing style. Beyond that, however, there is a lot of Tobe Hooper’s darker and more violent approach permeating throughout the film. You’ll hear this endlessly as an argument in Tobe Hooper’s favor, but c’mon, would Steven Spielberg have ever filmed the scene where the parapsychologist rips his own face off?

Regardless of who “really” directed the film, the two styles manage to compliment each other instead of clashing. Spielberg’s warm and fuzziness puts you in a sense of security long enough for Hooper’s brutality to catch you off-guard.

It’s hard for me to find anything of tremendous fault with the film, even looking at it without the lifetime of nostalgic attachment. The cast is great, though I don’t think the character of Dana Freeling (Dominique Dunne) served any actual purpose. She’s absent for pretty much all of the scares and her only memorable scene is when she shows up in the last five minutes to scream, “What’s happening!?” And while I enjoy the special effects and monsters in this film, I can’t say I feel the same toward either of its sequels. “Poltergeist” was all about excess, sure, but when you try to one-up a film that’s all about excess all you get is a huge mess. Giant tequila worms? Killer braces? Craig T. Nelson traveling to another dimension to kill a stop-motion monster with a magic spear? I’ll stick with the first movie from now on, thank you.

“Poltergeist” is just a great movie with special effects that haven’t aged a day in almost thirty years (I think only the “junk tornado” in the bedroom looks less than perfect, these days). Like most films with the name “Spielberg” attached to it, you don’t need me to tell you to see it. By now, you’ve probably seen it as many times as I have, I’m sure.

Grade: A (as in, “And when I was a kid, I never noticed that the parents were smoking pot. I just thought they were weird”.)

War of the Gargantuas (1966)

2011-07-25T12:23:00.002-04:00

Though most of his filmography consists of schlocky sci-fi monster films, Ishiro Honda was a director with quite a knack for genuine horror movies. The original “Godzilla” is a very dark and grim picture, while his 1963 effort, “Matango: Attack of the Mushroom People” is a very surreal and effective horror film. “War of the Gargantuas” sits on the line between a horror film meant to frighten audiences and the typical giant monster flicks of the 60s, which were more about sci-fi action than scares. In my opinion, this is one of the things that makes “War of the Gargantuas” so memorable; one of Honda’s strongest offerings.

Frankenstein may be dead, but his cells have been scattered across the seas and mountains of Japan. Regenerating into two shaggy behemoths dubbed Gargantuas, scientists Dr. Stewart (Russ Tamblyn), Akemi (Kumi Mizuno), Dr. Majida (Kenji Sahara) and Dr. Kita (Nobuo nakamura) have their hands full trying to corner and kill the stealthy beasts. But while the green Gargantua of the sea known as Gaira (Haruo Nakajima) is a man-eating fiend, the red Gargantua of the mountains known as Sanda (Yu Sekida) is strictly a gentle giant. When the fate of Tokyo comes into play, however, the Gargantua brothers will duke it out to determine whether the city’s population should be left on or off the menu.

As a sequel to “Frankenstein Conquers the World”, “War of the Gargantuas” is a bit confused. There are vague references to the previous film, but the word “Frankenstein” is used less to describe the original monster and more as a means of describing Sanda and Gaira (where as we in the West call them “Gargantuas”, the Japanese call them “Frankensteins”). There are scenes and characters that emulate the previous film, such as the stable of scientists consisting of an American, a female love interest and a Japanese third wheel, almost making it feel like a remake. Though it functions in spirit as a follow-up to “Frankenstein Conquers the World”, it’s sort of left up to the audience to connect the dots between films.

Getting that out of the way, “War of the Gargantuas” works just fine as a standalone kaiju flick. Honda implements a distinct edge of horror to the film right from the beginning, as the menacing giant octopus Odako (making his third and final appearance) slithers his tentacles through a boat, trying to snare the helmsman. In a great twist, when Gaira shows up to “save” the boat and defeat Odako, he immediately turns around and devours all the crewmen; chewing them up and spitting out their clothing like sunflower seed shells. This is all in the first five minutes, immediately setting the more violent tone of the flick. While most giant monsters in Toho films stomp through cities ambivalent toward the people beneath them, Gaira is more frightening because he’s all about plucking up the screaming masses and popping them like M&Ms. And I have to say, the scene where the fishermen look over the side of their boat and see Gaira just below the waves, reaching up at them is incredibly effective.

Because Gaira has an affliction to bright lights, nearly all of the film takes place at night, once more giving the film the darker atmosphere (both figuratively and literally). While it makes the film less colorful, that lack of color has the setback of making the color-coded Gargantuas a little tough to distinguish when they’re both grey silhouettes. It also shrouds the details of the costumes, which under most circumstances probably wouldn’t be a problem, but in the case of “War of the Gargantuas” there’s something very special about the monster outfits.

Unlike practically every other kaiju in Toho’s rogues gallery, the eyes of the actors can be seen through the Gargantua suits. This seemingly insignificant detail creates a better sense of acting chemistry and emotion between the monsters; far preferable to the Cookie Monster “googly eyes” that a lot of Toho’s kaiju are adorned with. I’m also very fond of the Gargantua suits beyond just the visible eyes; they’re extremely asymmetrical, gnarled and deformed-looking. These monsters actually look like freaks of nature and not streamlined comic book characters. In that regard, they actually do work as successors to the Frankenstein monster.

If “War of the Gargantuas” has any failings, I think it suffers in terms of story flow. The protagonists spend an agonizingly long time trying to determine which Gargantua is which (is it the good one or the bad one?) when we as an audience can already tell them apart by color. And by “agonizingly long time” I’m talking the better part of an hour, here. The showdown in the forest with Gaira seems to stretch on forever, even with some really exciting action sequences pepping things up (Gaira’s fur catching on fire as he’s shot by Maser Tanks being pretty incredible). Sort of like “The Fox and the Hound”, not enough time is spent developing the “brotherly friendship” of the title characters before they have their falling out. Really, Sanda and Gaira are only pals for, like, five minutes and then they’re at each other’s throats. And the ending, well, it is a very abrupt and convenient plot resolution that feels entirely random and contrived.

So no, “War of the Gargantuas” isn’t perfect, but even when the plot is spinning around dizzily, uncertain of its own direction, there is lots of monster carnage to see you through it, so chances of getting bored during this flick are slim. It’s easily one of the more distinct entries in Toho’s kaiju library, which is why it has so much more lasting power than many of their non-Godzilla entries. I mean, if “Scooby-Doo: Mystery Incorporated” is willing to do an homage to it, then that ought to tell you something.

Grade: B+ (as in, “But Roald Dahl totally swiped this plot for ‘The BFG'.”)

Hellraiser (Boom! Studio) #3

2011-07-24T13:41:00.006-04:00

Publication date: July, 2011

Written by: Clive Barker and Christopher Monfette
Art by: Stephen Thompson
Colors by: Jordie Bellaire
Lettering by: Travis Lanham
Edited by: Ian Brill

“Pursuit of the Flesh, Part Three”

Its times like this that I feel very foolish writing these reviews.

In my review for the first issue of Boom! Studio’s “Hellraiser” ongoing series, my primary concern was the cryptic return of the Harrowers; characters I detested from the original “Hellraiser” comic. In my review for the second issue, I found those concerns immediately quelled by a newer, more enjoyable take on the concept of the team and conceded my error. In that same review, my next grievance came with the fact that each member of the Harrowers was introduced via clunky exposition and none felt like they had any depth worth investing in. And now, here we are in the third issue and once again I have to concede my error, as this installments focuses on the back story of each Harrower and how they came into contact with the Cenobites.

Some days, it just doesn’t pay to open up my Word program.

In the third part of “Pursuit of the Flesh”, we see Pinhead giving a speech to a nigh-absent congregation of Cenobites (only Female and Chatterer are all that remain), dissertating the nihilistic existence of the Cenobites and whatnot. In parallel, Kirsty’s fiancé Edgar is giving a speech to a packed house about his new book, with a certain puzzle box-toting farmer in attendance. And with each segue of the dueling speeches, we’re granted an insight into the pasts of each Harrower (Marcus Aimes, Bethany Howard and Alexander Price). In the end, Edgar receives a gift best left unopened.

In the previous issue, the exposition provided by each Harrower describing their occupations and motivations was… pretty cheesy. “I’m a priest with no faith in God!” “I’m an angry harlot!” “I’m some other guy!” But while those origins may have sounded trite in compacted info-dump form, they’re marvelously fascinating when taken in a longer, fleshed-out fashion.

The first origin is for Marcus Aimes, the ex-preacher. This one sees him opening a cursed snow-globe and being accosted by a frozen Cenobite. The encounter leaves him disenfranchised with the demon-slaying powers of Christ and more faithful to the demon-slaying powers of the bottle. As with all the other stories, this one ends with a visit from Kirsty Cotton, acting like Nick Fury from the end credits of "Iron Man" (“I’d like to speak to you about the Harrower Initiative”).

Our second origin looks at Bethany, the overpriced callgirl, and her encounter with an old music box at the apartment of an antiques dealer. The resultant Cenobite summoning causes a rather gory miscarriage for her and it’s a sight sick-enough to make even this 26 year-old, thoroughly desensitized horror fan wince a little.

The third origin covers Alexander Price and it’s definitely a case of “saving the best for last”. With his brother held hostage by the Female Cenobite, Alexander spends the next twenty years of his life doing the bidding of Leviathan, spreading Lemerchand’s puzzle boxes to anyone foolish-enough to take them. With each successful distribution, he’s granted a brief audience with his un-aging little brother, who tries to convince him to give up his evildoing and let him die. In a rather somber moment, Alexander finally yields to his brother’s wishes (dooming him in the process) and ends up joining Kirsty to undo the damage he’s done.

Spanning two decades, this back story covers quite a bit of ground and actually ties into the origins of the other two Harrowers (Alexander probably isn’t the most popular member of the group, I imagine). The scene where he stops just short of giving another box to a pair of children on a playground, remembering how he was duped into Leviathan’s servitude at a similar age, and the resulting image of his brother burning to death in chains, is actually kind of moving. Each of these origin stories really felt like they could have been an issue of the original “Hellraiser” comic, which was an anthology horror series focusing on random individuals encountering different kinds of puzzle boxes and Cenobites.

At times I sort of felt like the Cenobites were “cheating” when attacking their victims and bypassing the “rules” of the game. In Marcus’s case, I’m not even sure if he opened the snow globe before the Cenobite appeared (though it could have been a more metaphysical kind of “unlocking”; like a sudden waver in his faith was enough to set the frost-Cenobite loose). The worst offender comes at the end, where Edgar opens the Lament Configuration just by pinching it, resulting in the death of the cabby who had nothing to do with anything. I thought it was supposed to be desire that called forth the Cenobites, not dumb luck and/or being a bystander in the general vicinity of the dude with the toy? Of course, Pinhead seems to be going AWOL from Leviathan if his machinations from the first issue are any clue, so maybe he’s breaking the rules on purpose.

I seem to be answering my own questions, here.

For whatever reason, Leonardo Manco did not draw this issue, being substituted with Stephen Thompson. I’m not sure if Manco is going to be coming back or not, though rotating artists on books as visually intense as this one is not uncommon. Thompson does a fine job with this issue, but his style certainly has a different flavor to it than Manco’s. He’s much less “rough” and “sketchy”. Whereas Manco seemed to graduate from the Stephen Gammell school of horror art, Thompson is a bit more of a typical comic book-type guy, with art that’s less interested in ruining your night’s sleep and more about making you go, “Holy shit, that’s awesome”. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.

With his cleaner style comes certain advantages, as you’re able to read the action much easier (my only complaint about Manco in the previous issues) and really savor the details. Though he lacks the gooey, inky, shadowy quality of Manco, Thompson’s Cenobites all look incredibly striking and unique. The frost-Cenobite was my favorite, though the clockwork-Cenobite had his own visual edge in the way he dispatches the lives of his victims (he reaches into their bodies with his hand, but the following image shows their organs getting crushed in the gears of a machine). The colors by Jordie Bellaire do a great job of keeping a level of consistency between the two artists, so it won’t be a case of you cracking open the book, taking one look at it and going, “Whoah, what just happened to the art?”

Three issues in and Boom! Studio’s “Hellraiser” has been a very solid book. With every concern I address, the knee-jerk reaction is satisfied by the succeeding installment, which is something that leaves me very comforted. For those of you waiting for the trade and not bothering with the monthlies, you won’t even have to worry about that.

Grade: A (as in, “And if you’re going to kill a Cenobite, you could do worse than dropping a 15-foot statue of Jesus on him”.)

Frankenstein Conquers the World (1965)

2011-07-20T22:49:00.003-04:00

“Frankenstein Conquers the World” is one of Ishiro Honda’s more underrated kaiju flicks from Toho’s Showa era, if you ask me. By creating a more human-like opponent in Frankenstein and reducing the scale considerably, the film ends up with a completely different vibe from Honda’s other kaiju productions, affording audiences a better opportunity to savor the model work of special effects guru Eiji Tsubaraya and his staff. The fight sequences between Frankenstein and villain-monster Baragon, too, are fast and furious rather than lumbering and titanic, really setting the film apart from its contemporaries.

Nazi scientists have seized the still-beating heart of the Frankenstein monster! Unfortunately, they decided to send the heart for study to their Axis comrades in Hiroshima, Japan. The radiation from the A-bomb dropped by the Allied forces has mutated the heart of the monster, causing the creature dubbed “Frankenstein” (Koji Furuhata) to regenerate and grow to mammoth size. Scientists Dr. Bowen (Nick Adams), Dr. Kawaji (Tadao Takashima) and Dr. Togami (Kumi Mizuno) are on the hunt for Frankenstein, though they’re undecided on whether they want to save the pitiful behemoth’s life or just save a portion of its corpse for scientific study. Meanwhile, the subterranean dinosaur called Baragon (Haruo Nakajima) has surfaced in the hills of Japan, causing destruction that is unfairly blamed on the frightened and reclusive Frankenstein. Eighty minutes later and they fight.

“Frankenstein Conquers the World” definitely has one of the craziest and most complicated origins for any of Toho’s monsters I’ve ever seen, which is just one of the many factors working in its favor. But while the origin of the title monster may be zany as all Hell, the film never downplays its grim Hiroshima setting; with the still-lingering effects of the A-bomb causing numerous tragedies (the introduction of the radiation researchers is rather somber, as they bid goodbye to a young girl dying from radiation poisoning). In that regard, “Frankenstein Conquers the World” has easily the strongest focus on the evils of nuclear warfare since the original “Godzilla” (though it isn’t quite as dower in its presentation).

But what really sets “Frankenstein Conquers the World” apart from Toho’s other monster films is that the action is scaled down in size. Whereas Godzilla could pick his toes with a redwood, Frankenstein and Baragon are about the size of a large tree and not a skyscraper. This allows for some more detailed model and set design on part of Eiji Tsubaraya and you really get to stop and enjoy the quality of the man’s work. Ishiro Honda also gets to create some more exciting cinematography than the larger scaled monster mayhem would afford him. The climax of the film featuring Frankenstein and Baragon duking it out in the middle of a forest fire is certainly a stunning sight.

The battle between Frankenstein and Baragon stands out, too, as the speed isn’t reduced to make the monsters look like slow-moving sumo wrestlers. Frankenstein’s quickness when facing Baragon gives the fight an extra boost of energy and is a nice alternative to the usual stuff. Frankenstein starts the film as a child and quickly grows into a giant, allowing him to interact more closely with the human cast and develop stronger bonds with them. He ends up becoming less of a special effect and more of a character, so you actually feel like you have some sort of investment in him when he’s put in danger.

Baragon, on the other hand, doesn’t really come into play until nearly an hour into the film and he’s hardly given any origin to speak of (there are some musings about dinosaurs that have burrowed underground and stayed there for millennia, but it’s half-baked at best). He really just exists as a means to give Frankenstein something to fight and nothing more. From what I understand, though, Baragon is a very popular kaiju in Japan, despite only ever appearing in two of Toho’s Showa era films. Supposedly, his popularity stems from Tsubaraya Production’s “recycling” of the Baragon costume for numerous TV shows, such as Ultraman, giving Baragon a “Robbie the Robot” quality.

There are two endings to this film: the International ending and the Theatrical ending. I’d warn you to avoid the International one, as it is absolute nonsense that was never meant to be the actual conclusion to the film. You see, the Theatrical ending sees Frankenstein kill Baragon, but the tunnels made from all of Baragon’s digging causes a landslide that buries Frankenstein alive. An abrupt conclusion, to be sure, but far more satisfying than the alternative. In the International version, after defeating Baragon, a giant octopus (Odako from “King Kong vs. Godzilla”) randomly waltzes through the forest, grabs Frankenstein in its tentacles and then drags him over to the sea and drowns him. It makes positively no sense. The Tokyo Shock R1 DVD includes the International ending as a bonus, which is certainly nice as apocrypha, but do yourself a favor and stick with the Theatrical version.

“Frankenstein Conquers the World” doesn’t get a lot of play or mention, but I find it to be superior to many of Ishiro Honda’s other kaiju flicks from later in his Showa era career. It’s a fine showcase for Eiji Tsubaraya’s eye for detail, too. “Frankenstein Conquers the World” would quickly spawn a sequel, “War of the Gargantuas”, which is actually even better. With it being available in R1 on a comprehensive two-disk set, I’d highly recommend checking it out.

Grade: B+ (as in, “Baragon’s floppy puppy ears crack me up”.)

Werewolf of London (1935)

2011-07-19T17:57:00.002-04:00

Six years before “The Wolf Man”, Universal took their first stab at a werewolf picture, though it didn’t quite hit its mark. Whereas “The Wolf Man” makes an effort to refine the subgenre and basically forge itself as the template for all future werewolf movies to come, “Werewolf of London” is little more than an unimaginative take on “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”, which even by 1935 had been adapted for the screen a number of times. While I don’t think “Werewolf of London” is deserving of being forgotten, it certainly does reek of being a failed attempt at igniting a new monster movie subgenre.

While searching Tibet for a rare blossom, botanist Dr. Glendon (Henry Hull) is bit by a werewolf. Returning to London, he finds himself in a race to unlock the blossom before the next full moon, as it is the only cure for lycanthropy. Challenging him for the botanical medicine is Dr. Yogami (Warner Oland), another sufferer of lycanthropy who wants the cure all for himself. Caught in the middle is Glendon’s wife, Lisa (Valerie Hobson), who is looking for solace from her inattentive husband in the arms of American sleazebag, Paul Ames (Lester Matthews).

As mentioned, “Werewolf of London” truly does feel like an uninspired modification of “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”, forgoing all the subgenre-setting standards that made “The Wolf Man” a horror classic. The worst offender is the werewolf-itself, which can’t seem to decide whether it wants to be a Hyde-like fiend in dapper clothing or the snarling, mindless brute we recognize the creature for today. There’s a scene following Glendon’s transformation where the werewolf proceeds to put on a hat, overcoat and scarf before leaving the house. He later prowls the streets of London in disguise until the opportunity to shred a single white female presents itself. Again, his presence is very Hyde-like, and though some might enjoy the portrayal of a more intelligent and cognizant werewolf, the film really goes nowhere with such a concept. Instead, it just can’t seem to make up its mind.

The initial transformation scene is something you’ve probably seen before in clip form on documentaries or whatever, as it’s the infamous sequence where Glendon walks in front of several conveniently placed pillars, growing hairier every time he passes; his actual “transformation” being blocked from view. I actually have a fondness for that transformation, as it at last has a memorable visual identity. I recall it better than I do any transformations from “The Wolf Man”, at least. Later transformations in the film try to be upfront about things and end up suffering for it, as the double exposures fail to keep Glendon sitting in the same position from one to the other.

The film also suffers from having no relatable elements or characters for the audience to latch onto. Where Lawrence Talbot from “The Wolf Man” was an all-around average Joe from America who returned to his family’s place in high society, finding a means to mix the two income classes, “Werewolf of London” has no such down-to-Earth character. Everyone within the film is a spoiled specimen of the London upper class with nothing to worry about save whether their next dinner party will be table or buffet. There’s a half-hearted effort thrown in with the American character of Paul Ames, but he’s hardly a likeable individual seeing as how he spends the bulk of the film trying to steal Glendon’s wife out from under him (and we’re supposed to be rooting for him, too, which is odd).

Other characters include Dr. Yogami, whom we never get to see turn into a werewolf outside the beginning of the film, missing a rather thrilling opportunity for a werewolf-against-werewolf sequence. But I guess that would have been too much for audiences in 1935. The character of Ettie Coombes (Spring Byington) exists to provide some levity and, much to my surprise, she’s actually rather enjoyable in her comedy relief role. At the very least, she’s better than the pair of gossipy innkeepers who appear later and absorb agonizing minutes of screen time. Like a dual pair of Una O’Connors, ugh.

“Werewolf of London” is definitely a transitioning point for the werewolf subgenre of horror films; that stepping stone between “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” and “The Wolf Man”. In that regard, it is a necessary evil. Though there are some impressive and ambitious elements to it, the film lacks a strong identity and never feels like it’s trying hard enough to achieve one. If you’re into the genesis of the werewolf picture, then you’ll want to check this film out for historical significance, but otherwise just skip ahead to “The Wolf Man” and be thankful you did.

Grade: D (as in, “Did they really have to go the Charlie Chan route with Dr. Yogami?”)

Piranha (1978)

2011-07-17T18:28:00.002-04:00

“Piranha” is one of those old movies I watched once as a kid and grew up completely misremembering. You see, I recall years of being impressed with it due to a scene embedded in my head where an entire summer camp of prepubescent children gets eaten alive by the carnivorous fish. Rewatching the film after so many, many years, imagine my shocking disappointment to learn that none of the children in that scene were devoured, but actually made it out alive with little more than sore bottoms and scraped knees. I suppose this is less a critique of the actual qualities of Joe Dante’s “Piranha” and more a critique of my poor memory.

When Maggie (Heather Menzies) and Paul (Bradford Dillman) accidentally release a school of genetically engineered super piranha from a government facility into the local river system, all Hell breaks loose. Working their way toward the ocean, where they’ll breed out of control and destroy Earth’s entire ecosystem, the piranha must first chew their way through a children’s summer camp and a riverside resort.

Joe Dante is a guy who has made a lot of movies I really enjoy. The “Gremlins” films alone earn him infinite credit with me, and that’s not even getting into “The Howling” or “Twilight Zone: The Movie”. Looking at his filmography, though, the guy has done some pretty rancid stuff, too. The hyperbole of “infinite credit” aside, how does one forgive a director for something like “Looney Tunes: Back in Action”? Thankfully, “Piranha” falls somewhere closer to the Joe Dante I love and not the Joe Dante I want to ignore.

Like most of Joe Dante’s catalog, “Piranha” is a horror-comedy, spoofing the onslaught of “Jaws” knock-offs that plagued the latter half of the 70s. Okay, sure, a few of those offerings were actually pretty good (such as “Alligator” and even “Orca: The Killer Whale”), but we’re better off forgetting the rest of them. Unlike most of Joe Dante’s spoofs and comedies, though, “Piranha” doesn’t go overboard with the zany nonsense and screwball antics that tend to rub some audiences the wrong way. In fact, for a so-called comedy, it’s played remarkable straight, with most of the humor stemming from the idiocy of the main cast and the ridiculousness of the situation. And, well, let’s be frank here: most horror films suffer from ridiculous situations and idiotic protagonists. In that regard, if you’re so used to stupid actors and stupid conflicts, you might not even recognize this as a comedy. Which is a bad thing.

The stupidity of the cast mostly has to do with their insistence on river-rafting their way to warn the locals when they damn well know there are man-eating fish in the water and if they capsize they will be immediately stripped to the bone. No matter how many extras get swarmed and devoured, no matter how many close-calls they suffer as the fish nip at their toes… they all just climb right back on that raft and continue downriver as though there were no other options whatsoever. The survival instinct in these people is rock bottom even by horror movie standards.

If there’s any genuine humor in the movie, I found it didn’t so much come from the parody angle but from the humorous dialogue between the characters; the scene where Paul and Maggie are arguing over how to distract the military guard keeping them under lockdown or a great exchange between a flunky and resort owner Buck Gardner (played by Joe Dante’s go-to-guy, Dick Miller). “What about the god damn piranha!?” “They’re eating the guests, sir.”

The piranha are brought to life by fish speared onto the ends of sticks, poking at people’s feet with the camera on an extreme close-up. There are a few instances of animation used to show swarming schools or one brief sequence where a fish swims right into the camera, but those are few and far between. It’s mostly ninety minutes of fish-on-stick action. I’ll admit to getting a kick out of all the carnage they cause, as Dante makes an effort to show tragedy in every aquatic recreational activity one can think of. There’s an extended waterskiing sequence that defies all odds by ending in an explosion.

If there’s anything else worth commenting on, I suppose it’s that I loved the completely politically incorrect method they used to destroy the piranha at the end: flood the river with pollution and kill all the wildlife in the surrounding area. After seeing this movie I felt compelled to write British Petroleum a letter, thanking them for keeping the piranha population in the Gulf of Mexico under control.

“Piranha” is definitely a fun movie and certainly more enjoyable than its James Cameron-directed sequel or either of its insipid remakes, though I don’t think it’s as funny as it could be, either.

Grade: C (as in, “Cameron’s flick had flying piranha, though. So there’s that”.)

King Kong Escapes (1967)

2011-07-14T21:06:00.002-04:00

Toho’s special effects guru Eiji Tsubaraya, awesome as he was, just never seemed to get how to bring King Kong into the world of Japanese “suitmation”. He looks just as silly and clunky here in “King Kong Escapes” as he did years earlier in the Toho production “King Kong vs. Godzilla”. But as with “King Kong vs. Godzilla”, the suit used for King Kong is really the only problem I have with “King Kong Escapes”. The story is fun, the villain is great and there is a lot of giant monster fighting to keep you from getting bored. I find myself reaching for “King Kong Escapes” far more frequently than I do other non-Godzilla offerings from Toho, which tend to be dull. “Dull”, however, is not a word to be associated with “King Kong Escapes”.

United Nations researchers Commander Carl Nelson (Rhodes Reason), Lt. Jiro Nomura (Akira Takarada) and Lt. Susan Watson (Linda Miller) find themselves caught in the middle of an evil plot calculated by terrorist overlord Dr. Who (Eisei Amamoto) and his slinky partner Madame Piranha (Mie Hama). Dr. Who has built a giant robot doppelganger of King Kong (Haruo Nakajima) called Mechani-Kong (Yu Sekida) to mine a rare nuclear element called Element X. However, to finish the mining job, he needs to capture the real King Kong. Nelson and his crew are the key to it all, as they’ve befriended Kong while exploring Mondo Island and are the perfect bait to trap the Eighth Wonder of the World. In the end, a giant monkey fights a giant robot monkey while dangling from the top of Tokyo Tower, because, you know, shit like this happens all the time.

“King Kong Escapes” is one of the more enjoyable installments in Toho’s kaiju series, thanks mostly to the nearly nonstop assault of giant monster action. The worst of Toho’s flicks often suffer from letting the human drama overtake the monster battles and we’re left with maybe ten to twenty minutes of combined giant creature carnage to satisfy our appetites. By minute number five of “King Kong Escapes”, we’re introduced to the menacing Mechani-Kong and his grenade belt, and only a few minutes after that we get to see the real deal-himself, in all his badly-stitched-together glory. From there, King Kong battles Gorosaurus (who would go on to have a prominent role in “Destroy All Monsters”), a generic sea serpent and, eventually, Mechani-Kong in the film’s climax. “King Kong Escapes” is definitely an installment suited for little kids, or those of us with the attention spans of little kids, as it knows precisely what audience to play to and what they want to see.

But when the monsters aren’t lumbering around on screen, the human drama is the focus and it’s actually some pretty enjoyable stuff. The human villain of the film, Dr. Who, is one of Toho’s best. He’s got this supremely evil comic book villain quality, walking around in a black cape with a sinister grin and those weird eyebrows. He’s very theatrical and actually has the presence of a character and not just some shmo created to kill time between monster fights. The protagonists are far less memorable, but isn’t that how it always is?

Reading about the movie on the ever-reliable Wikipedia, I was surprised to learn that it was a loose adaptation of “The King Kong Show”, a US/Japanese co-produced animated series that was running at the time. The characters of Mechani-Kong and Dr. Who both originated in that series, though they were apparently quite different than how they were portrayed on screen in “King Kong Escapes”. I’ve never seen the show since it was way before my time, but hey, trivia.

The biggest downside to “King Kong Escapes” is something I already mentioned: Kong’s suit. I suppose it’s really just the face that I can’t stand, as it just looks like it’s half-melted in the sun or something. The 1976 remake of “King Kong” would show how good a “suitmation” version of Kong can be, with the actor-in-a-Kong-suit being about the only good thing that debacle accomplished. Toho’s Kong is just a bad-looking effort no matter how you stack it.

“King Kong Escapes” has a lot of action and a lot of monsters and one of the better human villains in the entire Showa era of Toho’s kaiju series. Currently, it is only available in the US on a DVD from Universal with a mandatory English dub, but the picture and sound on it is really very, very good. And, to be frank, the Japanese version of the film has just as much dubbing in it as the US version thanks to the international cast. If you watch the Japanese version, all the Americans will be dubbed in Japanese. If you watch the US version, all the Japanese people will be dubbed in English. So in that regard, no version is really better than the other (and, honestly, I rather liked Paul Frees’ voice-over for Dr. Who).

Grade: B- (as in, “But I know what you’re thinking and NO, it is not that Dr. Who”.)

Gamera the Giant Monster (1965)

2011-07-09T18:07:00.002-04:00

When Shout! Factory released the original Japanese subtitled version of “Gamera the Giant Monster” on DVD last year, I was planning on just adding my thoughts about it into my review of the English cut of the film, “Gammera the Invincible”. However, having finally found the time and enthusiasm to sit down and watch a movie I figured couldn’t have been all that unique from its Western counterpart… I discovered it was quite unique from its Western counterpart and in need of a separate article.

When an aerial battle over the arctic between US and Soviet forces sends an A-bomb hurtling into the ice, the prehistoric monster known in Eskimo legends as Gamera awakens! A behemoth left over from the lost continent of Atlantis, Gamera desires only to devour all of Earth’s thermal energy, killing thousands in the process. Scientist Dr. Hidaka (Eiji Funakoshi), his assistant Kyoko (Harumi Kiritachi) and tag-along press photographer Aoyagi (Junichiro Yamashita) chase the beast across Japan, trying their best to stop it. Meanwhile, young turtle-enthusiast Toshio (Yoshiro Uchida) chases them, certain that Gamera is actually a gentle-giant. Alas, no one will listen.

The version of the film that I’ve always been familiar with, “Gammera the Invincible”, was a very heavy reworking of the original Japanese version, just as “Godzilla, King of the Monsters” was to the original 1954 “Godzilla”. However, where “Godzilla, King of the Monsters” found clever ways to include an additional narrative following a new character as he slips into scenes from the original movie, “Gammera the Invincible” lacked such effort, featuring a rotating cast of military and media personalities in cheap sets trying desperately to distract you from all the Japanese people. The result was something of an unfocused mess, with the leftovers featuring the original Japanese cast feeling half-baked or entirely pointless (Toshio’s presence in the US version is especially needless and random).

So as you can imagine, “Gamera the Giant Monster” is a much more focused film with a stronger narrative and cleaner plot threads. Shout! Factory’s DVD release looks particularly good, cleaned-up with the restored aspect ratio; it gives the film a better sense of grandeur, as the widescreen makes the special effects of Gamera’s Tokyo rampage look more frightening and less cheesy (though still cheesy). I definitely left feeling like I’d watched a completely different film with a different tone and objective from the version I’d grown up with, and all the better for it.

“Gamera the Giant Monster” is much less military-oriented than the American cut of the film, grounded more in the trials and tribulations of its cast of characters and their starkly different impressions of the title kaiju (Japanese for “monster” and used by fans of these movies to refer to giant Japanese monsters). Dr. Hidaka and his crew see Gamera as nothing more than a fiend bent on destroying the world while little Toshio sees a more sympathetic angle to the big turtle. Their plot threads initiate separately in the film before coalescing, with Toshio actively working against Dr. Hidaka and the armed forces and rooting for their defeat against Gamera. There’s a bit of a compromise at the end on how they vanquish Gamera without killing him, though Toshio’s ranting actually has little to do with the non-lethal implementation of “Plan Z”.

There’s also a definite anti-Cold War message permeating throughout the movie, centering on a theme of global peace and cooperation. At the beginning, its warring US and Soviet forces that unleash Gamera on the world. At the end, it’s the united creation of Plan Z (with the US and Soviet Union specifically called out for their contributions) that saves the day. The US version of the film, released in 1966, during the Cold War, diminishes this message of peace in exchange for just making it look like Soviets are assholes and Americans are heroes. And to prove that twenty years later we’d made absolutely no progress, the US reworking of 1984’s “Godzilla” into “Godzilla: 1985” did pretty much precisely the same thing, reworking a sequence so that the Soviet Union looks like a bunch of dicks and America has to clean up their mess.

Yoo! Ess! Aye! Yoo! Ess! Aye!

I haven’t much new to say on the special effects, as most of the scenes involving Gamera were left intact for the “Gammera the Invincible” cut. I’ll just reiterate that they look a whole heck of a lot better in widescreen.

“Gamera the Giant Monster” is definitely the stronger version of the film, though you’ll have to steel yourself for some pretty terrible English language performances during the first twenty minutes or so of the movie (and incidentally, there are some pretty bad Japanese-language performances in the last twenty minutes of the film, too). While it isn’t in the same league as 1954’s “Godzilla”, “Gamera the Giant Monster” doesn’t try to copy the grim and gruesome tone of that film, instead opting for a more peaceful message about international unity. While I prefer my Gamera flicks to be good ‘n silly, the more serious nature of this first installment works a lot better in this original cut than the US version, making it a pretty solid picture.

Grade: A (as in, “And apparently I totally missed a pair of strippers somewhere in this thing. Either that or IMDB is messing with me”.)

Leatherface: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre III (1990)

2011-07-08T22:38:00.002-04:00

Man, New Line Cinema sure had a thing in the 90s for taking all their acquired horror movie franchises and rebranding them with the slasher’s name as the title. “Jason Goes to Hell”, “Freddy’s Dead” and, of course, “Leatherface: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre III”. Anyway, “Leatherface” was New Line’s attempt at revitalizing the “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” franchise which never really had the success or box office numbers as their more popular slasher flicks. The more cinematic, rock ‘n roll sheen of the film certainly breathes some life into it, though once again at the expense of the gritty, filthy texture that made the 1974 original so memorable and enduring. If anything, it actually feels like it could pass as a sequel or prequel to the 2004 “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” remake, as it seemingly has more in common with that incarnation of the franchise than the original. But then again, seeing how wildly the original series’ atmosphere fluctuates between sequels (going from “serious” to “comedy” to “serious” to “comedy”), it’s a little tough to keep score.

Michelle (Kate Hodge) and Ryan (William Butler) are making their way through the dirt roads of Texas and, of course, that means they’re about to get eaten. The charming Tex Sawyer (Viggo Mortensen… no, really), the handyman Tinker Sawyer (Joe Unger), the bumbling perv Alfredo Sawyer (Tom Everett), the voicebox-impaired Mama Sawyer (Miriam Byrd-Nethery) and “little girl” (Jennifer Banko) are ready to chow down on some sweet human flesh. Michelle may just find rescue from a local survivalist, Benny (Ken Foree), but to reach her, he’ll have to match his AK-47 against the chainsaw-swinging stylings of Leatherface (R. A. Mihailoff).

“Leatherface” is probably one of the most palatable installments in the original “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” series, before the remake called a “do-over”. If it has any particular strength over its predecessors, it would be that the “family” dynamic of the Sawyers is presented as an actual family. The first two installments focused only on the three brothers and their nigh-antagonistic relationship with one-another. “Leatherface” spices things up by expanding the family past just the sibling rivalry of the brothers (which Leatherface now has three more of), giving us a mother figure to keep the twerps in line and an actual child who is every bit as blood-thirsty as the rest, just to make things extra freaky. While there’s no beating the classic chemistry of Drayton, Hitchhiker (or substitute Chop-Top) and Leatherface (all but one of whom were dead by this point in the narrative), I’m glad Director Jeff Burr chose not to try and copy that relationship.

The newest additions to the Sawyers bring their own eccentricities, though not all stand out. Tex is ostensibly the star villain of the film, almost battling Leatherface for the spotlight. Viggo Mortensen, a decade before he became a superstar, brings a handsome face to the Sawyers, who are almost routinely depicted as the most snaggle-toothed redneck stereotypes known to man, making him contrast with his greasy, wall-eyed cohorts. Tinker and Alfredo don’t leave much of an impression, though Mama and “little girl” stick out, as they bring out “the best” in the lunatics (seeing them baby their kid sister or dutifully obey the orders of their mother). Grandpa’s there, too, but father time has finally caught up with him and he’s portrayed by a decaying corpse seated perpetually at the dinner table.

Then you’ve got Leatherface-himself. New Line Cinema seemed intent on giving Leatherface a harder edge than he ever had in the previous installments, which might seem contrary to his character. He obeys his Mama, but when his brothers start pushing him around, he bites back pretty hard. Once again, this portrayal of the character seems more in tune with how he’d appear in the remake series. Still, elements of Leatherface’s “gentle giant” persona from the previous films leak through, including a brief moment where he tries to share some Walkman music with the nailed-to-a-chair Michelle.

Story-wise, well, the “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” series has the problem of following a particular formula way too strictly and the installments can get pretty dull when taken together. A bunch of stupid kids go down a back road, they get hunted, a female gets kidnapped, she watches as the Sawyers have a crazy dinner party, there’s a chase as she escapes, roll credits. “Leatherface” follows this same formula, with only the character of Benny taking the fight back to the Sawyers as a means to keep things from getting too monotonous. He’s portrayed by horror legend Ken Foree, who brings that same “he’s a real nice guy but don’t fuck with him” presence that makes him one of my favorite recurring players in the genre. And I’ll admit, it was satisfying to see someone competent and capable actually turn around and fuck up the Sawyers for a change.

To focus on a single problem with the film that irritated me, I’d have to point out the ending. Benny is pretty much killed during the swamp battle during the climax, and though they tried some fancy editing to cover it up, there’s only so much you can do with “gets his head chopped by a chainsaw and sinks to the bottom of the mire”. The way he returns at the end just reeks of being “slapped on” to give the flick a happier send off, kind of like the ending to “G.I. Joe the Movie”. Don’t worry everybody! Duke’s gonna be okay!

The original ending (included on the astonishingly thorough and extras-packed 2003 DVD) isn’t exactly what I’d call “better” than the one we got, but more of a lateral move in quality. It shows Benny’s full death scene in the swamp, followed by the inexplicable return of Viggo Mortensen for no good reason and a cheesy part where Michelle says her prayers after killing Leatherface (who isn’t shown surviving in this one). It offers up a more “depressing” finish with Michelle having her well-earned escape thwarted, which I rather liked, but that other stuff with Viggo Mortensen and the prayers was just stupid.

Though it claims to be a sequel (the opening narrative scrawl mentions the past movies), “Leatherface: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre III” seems more like a first attempt at a remake that quickly decides it’d be happier as a loose sequel. The next crack at rebooting, “Return of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre” would fumble at the one yard line, too, settling on being an “in-betweenquel”. We’d finally get our full-fledged remake in 2003 with Marcus Nispel’s flick, though to reiterate my opening statement, that movie feels more like it’s trying to remake “Leatherface” than the original 1974 film. While I’d be inclined to give this installment a “D+”, I’m willing to push it over to the next letter grade strictly because of how awesome its “Lady of the Lake” teaser trailer is. Just skip the movie and watch that.

Grade: C (as in, “Come to think of it, I’d almost be willing to make that a C+ because of the fucking awesome metal soundtrack”.)

Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation (1994)

2011-07-06T23:27:00.003-04:00

You’d think that the co-writer of the original 1974 “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” would be the ideal individual to write and direct a sequel to that film, but you’d be wrong. Dead wrong. Even considering the troubled release and multiple re-cuts of the film, there is simply no excuse for just how bad “Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation” really is. By a wide margin it is the worst installment in the franchise, and that is a stellar accomplishment, because the “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” series is full of some pretty fucking terrible sequels.

Its prom night and Jenny (Renee Zellweger) and her friends just want to enjoy the teenage redneck event like everyone else. Unfortunately, some ill-conceived drama sends them down the backroads of Texas and you know what that means. Jenny’s friends are quickly murdered by the brutal Sawyer family: cyborg-legged Vilmer Sawyer (Matthew McConaughey), idiot-savant W.E. Sawyer (Joe Stevens), transvestite Leatherface (Robert Jacks) and Vilmer’s white trash girlfriend, Darla (Tonie Perensky). As the sadistic Sawyers take Jenny hostage for a night of fun and games, the mousey youth learns the truth behind their devilish antics: they belong to an ancient Illuminati society of global fear agents intent on spreading horror as a form of spiritual experience.

Fuck no, I didn’t make that up.

Originally titled “The Return of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre” and intended to be a remake of the original film, celebrating its 20th anniversary, writer/Director Kim Henkel inadvertently ended up creating an “in-betweenquel” that fits snugly between “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2” and “Leatherface: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre III”. In that respect, “The Next Generation” actually repairs the discontinuity between the last two sequels which is about the only thing of merit the film accomplishes. Unfortunately, it serves a narrative purpose while simultaneously being an absolute wreck to sit through. Try to imagine hiring a teenager to mow your lawn but in the process he splatters mud all over your house and breaks your windows with rocks. Yeah, he got the job done, but do the ends justify the means? In the case of “The Next Generation”, I would say “No”.

To put on my nerd cap, the narrative discontinuity between the second and third films in the series has mostly to do with the opening narrative scrawls of those films. “Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2” says that Sally Hardesty fell into a coma and the Sawyers were never arrested. “Leatherface” opens with a scrawl claiming that Sally Hardesty died and that the only Sawyer to ever be arrested and executed was a “W.E. Sawyer”… a character who was never in any of the previous movies. “The Next Generation”, fitting in-between the second and third movie, introduces us to the enigmatic (and completely worthless) W.E. Sawyer, who survives the end of the film so that he can be arrested before “Leatherface”. It also ends with Sally Hardesty (played once more by Marilyn Burns in a cameo), still in her coma, being wheeled out of a hospital by a member of the global fear syndicate, presumably to meet her doom. And barring all those other things, Grandpa (Grayson Victor Schirmacher) is alive in this movie and dead in “Leatherface”, so it’d have to take place in-between the second and third films, anyway.

Of course, just to prove that “The Next Generation” can’t do anything completely right, its opening narrative scrawl alludes to the events of both “Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2” and “Leatherface” as “two minor, yet apparently related incidents”, thus implying it takes place after the third film. And Leatherface’s handicap in the third film was a reference to his impalement at the end of the second film, but he suffers no such physical malady in this installment.

You know what? Fuck it. I don’t care anymore.

Being conceived as a remake, “The Next Generation” follows much of the same flow as the original 1974 film, right down to aping the entire chainsaw chase sequence through the woods, house, second floor window and ending at a rest station where the fleeting female thought she’d find help (only to find a member of the family). The film actually follows pretty much all the basics of a typical “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” installment, with characters getting abducted by the Sawyers, tormented, stuck on meat hooks, shoved in freezers, forced to endure whacko dinner scenes and the like, all decorated with a menagerie of scenery-chewing hillbillies burdened with excesses of personality. I imagine if one were to read this in script form or as a novelization or, I dunno, a comic book adaptation, they probably wouldn’t think twice about it as being particularly dreadful.

The problem, then, is that all the actors are absolutely terrible even by straight-to-video 90s horror standards.

You know how in High school your English class would have days where everyone had to take turns reading passages from a Shakespeare play or something out-loud, one kid at a time? Remember how the students would parrot their lines as quickly and unenthusiastically as possible just to get them over with, almost resenting that they had to do it in the first place? Well, that’s how the actors in this movie are, including Renee Zellweger. Everyone in this movie resents the fact that they are in this movie. You’ve got a scene where one of the teens is trying to run away from Vilmer Sawyer and after no more than 10 paces decides “screw it” and then recites his lines like he was reading them off of notes scribbled in ballpoint pen on the palm of his hand. Renee Zellweger, in particular, just does not care about what she is doing and will respond to being threatened with rape, torture or death with eye-rolling, “Oh my gosh. No. Please. Stop. I beg you.”

The cast doesn’t want to be in this movie anymore than you want to watch it.

Well, except for maybe Matthew McConaughey, who seems to be the only person in the whole film that thinks he’s in a serious movie that requires 100% of his acting prowess. In a victory through comparison with the rest of the listless players, you may actually mistake McConaughey’s acting as “good” for the first time in your life.

But it isn’t the first hour of typical “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” nonsense that people recognize this film for, because right at the one hour mark this movie gets really indignant, like it can hear your snide remarks and doesn’t appreciate them. “Oh, you think I’m a terrible movie? You think I suck? Ohhhh, I’ll show you suck!”

Because the one hour mark is where Leatherface inexplicably turns into a transvestite in full-on drag queen mode and a guy IMDB says is named Rothman (played by James Gale but when I first saw this movie I thought it was Judd Nelson) arrives to show off his nipple rings while explaining that the Sawyer family belongs to an international terror organization and that he is disappointed with Matthew McConaughey’s output. That happens and Kim Henkel can never take it back. Personally, if Rothman were to be upset with McConaughey’s character about anything, I’d think it would be the fact that he has “Illuminati” painted on the side of his tow-truck. Way to advertise your secret society, dude.

“Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation” is just fundamentally flawed on every level. There is no, “Well, maybe if they’d done it this way it would have been okay” or “Maybe if they hadn’t done this it might have been alright”. Everything about this movie is a disaster. When it isn’t getting the fundamentals of characters like Leatherface completely wrong, it’s adding Illuminati bullshit that overcomplicates the simple and frightening concept of “crazy family that eats people".

Grade: F (as in, “For what it’s worth, though, it’s probably the best film Matthew McConaughey has ever been in).

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (1986)

2011-07-04T21:24:00.003-04:00

“The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2” is probably the third worst Dennis Hopper movie I’ve ever seen. And that… that’s just awful.

Twelve years have passed since the cannibalistic Sawyer family massacred the Hardesty kids and they’ve been running around Texas wreaking havoc ever since. Late night radio show host Stretch (Caroline Williams) has the misfortune of overhearing one of their victims during a request call-in, which puts her on the Sawyers’ menu. Kidnapped by the loony Chop-Top (Bill Moseley) and love-struck Leatherface (Bill Johnson), Stretch finds herself dragged to a ghoulish underworld to be turned into award-winning chili by Drayton Sawyer (Jim Siedow) and Grandpa (Ken Evert). Only Lieutenant Lefty (Dennis Hopper), older brother of the Hardesty kids, can save her. Unfortunately, he’s about as nuts as the Sawyers.

“The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2” is, well… different. Holy crap, is it different. Rather than try and recapture the gritty, low-budget atmosphere of the original film, Tobe Hooper instead opts for an approach I find difficult to quantify. A lot of folks call this one a “dark comedy”, but the humor seems unintentional. The “funny” scenes such as Leatherface dressing Stretch up in the skinned face of her best friend and then dancing with her are more “silly” than rib-ticklingly hilarious and I don’t think they were meant to evoke laughter from the audience. At the same time, I don’t think this is a movie that tries so hard to take itself seriously, with the Sawyer family’s various quirks and eccentricities cranked up to full volume and definitely coming across as “goofy”.

Much of the tension and suspense that defined the original is present, as Stetch spends basically a full hour trying to find her way out of the Swayers’ subterranean maze, but the campiness of the whole production defuses much of the nail-biting. “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2” is too goofy to take seriously and too inept to be funny. It’ll likely leave you disappointed upon your first viewing because it is nothing like the original and confused after your repeat viewings because you aren’t sure if you’re supposed to hate it or not. At least, that’s been my experience.

To credit the positives of “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2”, it has some fantastic set designs. It’d almost have to, since the movie only really takes place in two places: a radio station and the underground lair. The radio station reminded me of my stepdad’s auto repair shop in Chantilly, which is probably why I liked it, but there’s just a lot of grimy, redneck personality to the joint. The sprawling labyrinth of the Sawyers, on the other hand, is just very impressive in its macabre design. It has enough human skeletons decorating it to make the catacombs of Paris green with envy and they’re all posed in typical “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” fashion (look for a “Dr. Strangelove” homage amongst the corpses). The place is a mix of mine-like tunnels, huge metal pipes, rope bridges, chutes and ladders, all lit by lamps and Christmas lights. While you may question how a bunch of nutty rednecks that can hardly seem to focus on a damn thing for more than ten seconds could have possibly constructed something so elaborate, you’re better off not thinking too intensely on the internal logic of this movie. Tobe Hooper clearly didn’t.

Of the cast of the original film, only Jim Siedow returns after the twelve year-long break to resume his role of Drayton Sawyer. Along with Bill Moseley’s Chop-Top, he actually offers the most impressive performance in the entire film, really getting into the role of exasperated older brother and caterer extraordinaire. Chop-Top may annoy some, but you cannot deny that Moseley just goes bananas with the part and sells the character from start to finish. Leatherface is given a sympathetic angle in this installment as he weighs his devotion to the family against his inexplicable affections for Stretch. The “romance” of it all is actually kind of embarrassing to watch and falls flat as a plot point at the end when Dennis Hopper shows up to have a chainsaw duel with Leatherface on a dinner table.

And speaking of Dennis Hopper, I think the most offensive thing about him in this movie isn’t his scenery-gobbling performance but the actual complete and utter uselessness of the Lefty character. There’s hardly any need for him in the film at all; I’m sure Tobe Hooper could have thought of any number of other catalysts for the Sawyers to want to kill Stretch for overhearing one of their murders. For nearly an hour of the film, while Stretch is running around the maze, Lefty spends that time singing Bible songs and chopping down support beams (that never actually collapse the structure except in sections where it inadvertently inconveniences Stretch’s escape). For close to sixty minutes, all we see of Lefty are quick cuts back to him sawing at two-by-fours simply to remind us that his character still exists. By the time he shows up at the end to battle Leatherface you might just shout “Finally!”

And the script seems to be confused as to just what his relation to the Hardesty’s is. The cop talking to him at the beginning refers to Sally and Franklin as “your brother’s kids”, implying he was their uncle. Later, though, when he finds Franklin’s corpse in the maze, he refers to him as “brother”, and still later, when he hallucinates that Stretch is Sally, he calls her “sister”.

Again, I’m thinking harder about this movie than the people who wrote it. I should really knock that shit off.

“The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2” is just a mess that isn’t sure exactly what it wants to be, only so long as it’s nothing like the original. In a sad, sad twist of fate, it actually isn’t even the worst installment in the series. Let’s give a round of applause to “Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Next Generation” for accomplishing that seemingly insurmountable task. Still, while there’s a lot to loathe about this movie, there are some genuinely good attributes to make it worth at least a single sit-through, too. If you suffer through anything, at least watch as far as the car chase on the bridge at the beginning of the movie. That scene is especially well-done and one of the best moments of the film.

Grade: D (as in, “Dennis Hopper may be gone, but his legacy of shitty movies will live forever”.)

Pumpkinhead (1988)

2011-06-26T12:38:00.007-04:00

Well, it’s about damn time I reviewed Lance Henriksen’s finest cinematic endeavor. Wait, we’re not talking about “Super Mario Bros.”?

Damn.

Simple mountain-man Ed Harley (Lance Henriksen) loves his son Billy (Matthew Hurley) more than anything else on the planet. When poor Billy is accidentally killed by a group of moto-crossing city-slickers, Harley becomes so racked with grief and rage that he’d do anything to get revenge. A boy named Bunt (Brian Bremer) leads him to the secluded shack of the old witch Haggis (Florence Schauffler), who summons the demon called Pumpkinhead (Tom Woodruff Jr.) to torture and kill the six youngsters. Once the slaughter begins, Harley has second thoughts, as the closer Pumpkinhead comes to its goal, the more of his soul Harley loses.

If there’s any horror franchise that got a raw deal, it would have to be “Pumpkinhead”. This classic from the late special effects maestro Stan Winston builds such a complex and fascinating internal mythology within a mere 86 minutes that it would seem like the perfect launching point for a slew of interesting sequels. Instead, we got a non-canon straight-to-video sequel in “Pumpkinhead II: Blood Wings” that was so awful it killed the series for twelve years. While the “true sequel” in “Pumpkinhead: Ashes to Ashes” was surprisingly watchable for a Sci-Fi Channel Original Movie, I still felt that the franchise deserved a whole heck of a lot better.

Inspired by an eerie nursery rhyme-style poem from someone named Ed Justin (who apparently never wrote anything else), the mythology present in “Pumpkinhead” regarding the titular demon is strikingly thorough. One can’t just conjure up Pumpkinhead on a whim; they have to really, really want it. And even then, they first must make a deal with a haggard old swamp witch, exhume the creature’s corpse from a cursed graveyard in the dead of night and then finally pour their blood into its mouth to seal the pact. Everything has a history, from the graveyard where mountain folk buried the kin they were ashamed of, to Pumpkinhead’s terrifying legacy (glimpsed through flashbacks, whispered in tall tales and eerily chanted in the aforementioned poem). The legend of Pumpkinhead never feels like a slapdash effort; it is evident that a lot of consideration went into crafting the detailed history of the creature.

“Pumpkinhead” marks effects-man Stan Winston’s directorial debut, though alas, he never did much as a director (let’s just pretend “A Gnome Named Gnorm” never happened). It’s a shame, too, as he showed so much talent behind the camera, as “Pumpkinhead” is just swarming with gorgeously frightening cinematography (evident even in the crappy 2000 MGM pan-and-scan DVD I own) and quite a bit of heart and tragedy typically skipped over in these sorts of 80s monster movies. The set design on this film is superb, particularly in regards to the deserted church yard and the cursed cemetery where Pumpkinhead’s cadaver is stashed, but even the hillbilly shanty towns, roadside markets and wooden shack interiors all have their convincingly rustic, well-lived-in quality. Haggis, the old witch, deserves a spotlight, as she is constantly bathed in the red glow of her fireplace, with the flickering light making her silver hair glow and creating a silhouette of the crone’s wrinkled, hideous noggin. There have been more scary old witches in horror movies than you or I can count, but she ranks among the creepiest.

While the teens don’t get much beyond templates to tide them over, Henriksen’s portrayal of the grieving Ed Harley really steals the show. He sells his love for his son early on, and when the poor little guy dies in an accident, you really feel the sadness and hate in Harley’s character. The scene where the teens rush to look for a phone to call an ambulance after they hit the boy, leaving one of their number behind to watch over the dying child, is just some very tense cinema. For those of us old enough to remember the age before cell phones, it brings back uncomfortable memories of being stuck in a serious situation, with no way to directly contact any authorities and being forced to wait an agonizingly long time for someone to return with help. The scene where Ed finally returns and finds his son dying deserves more credit than it typically gets, as there’s no melodramatic “What have you done!” or “I’ll get even with you!” dialogue; just a terrified parent, a panicked teenager who doesn’t know what to do or say to the father and one look from Henriksen that speaks a thousand words.

Though there’s a flashback at the beginning, Pumpkinhead doesn’t really enter the picture until about the 40-minute mark, which is basically halfway through the movie. As such, the demon plows through the kids at a rapid speed, making sure to pick off the ones with the least amount of personality first. Pumpkinhead has a presence that, again, owes a lot to Winston’s skills as a director. Wherever Pumpkinhead goes, he’s accompanied by strobing moonlight and the inexplicable noise of a thousand swarming locusts. He really feels like a monster straight from hell. His design is iconic (though from certain angles his cranium looks sort of like a powdered wig) and the way he walks on those bent legs really brings him to life (the awful sequel from '94 found the legs too difficult to work with, so they only filmed him from the waist up).

Pumpkinhead is damn mean and the way he torments the kids as he picks them off feels like something out of every person’s darkest revenge fantasy (and absolutely befitting of a demon brought to life by the lust for vengeance). There’s a scene where he snatches one of the girls and while all the other kids are huddled in the kitchen, scared for their lives, he presses her sobbing, bleeding face against the window, rubbing it up and down on the glass before finally sending her hurtling into the cabin. Pumpkinhead never kills the same way twice and he never makes it quick and easy, either. For instance, instead of just grabbing a girl and breaking her neck, he grabs her by her legs, hoists her up to the top of the tallest tree he can find, dangles her for a while until her friends hear her crying and come running, then he drops her onto a jagged rock in front of them.

And the last little detail that I couldn’t go this review without mentioning is Pumpkinhead’s smile. So, so evil.

If “Pumpkinhead” suffers anywhere, it would be the preposterously short length. The first half of the movie is all the emotional set-up and, while I wouldn’t trade any of it, it leaves Pumpkinhead with only a scant amount of time to get the job done. I won’t begrudge a horror movie for having shallow teenage characters, but I think if “Pumpkinhead” had eliminated a few of them from the script we might have gotten to latch onto the cast a bit better. As it stands, you can’t even tell some of them apart or why any one out of six deserves to be the “surviving heroine” more than any other.

As mentioned at the beginning, “Pumpkinhead” is a horror movie that got a tragically raw deal and nothing short of a time machine is going to change that. But no matter how you feel about the contemporary or Johnny-come-lately sequels, we’ll always have the original masterpiece and it’ll never diminish as a fantastic piece of standalone horror cinema.

Grade: A (as in, “And read that poem in a hillbilly voice; ‘Keep away frum Pun-kinhed, less you tired-a livin’! His enemies is mos’ly ded, he mean ‘n unforgivin’.’ Isn’t it more fun that way?”)

Gamera vs. Monster X (1970)

2011-06-15T22:31:00.003-04:00

Also known as “Gamera vs. Jiger”, the sixth entry in the Showa era Gamera series takes a different approach from the last batch of installments, combining the “serious” tone of early films like “War of the Monsters” with the goofy, childish atmosphere of previous movies like “Attack of the Monsters”. It actually strikes the balance rather well, reinstating a grander and more threatening conflict while retaining the youth-aimed “friend to children everywhere” aspect that had become a staple of the franchise.

Procuring a sacred statue from Wester Island for the 1970’s World Fair in Osaka, the Fair operators accidentally awaken a sinister monster known by the natives as Jiger. Jiger carves a swath of destruction through Osaka, Hell-bent on obtaining the purloined statue. Gamera attempts to stop the behemoth, but when he is poisoned by Jiger’s parasitic larvae, only teenagers Hiroshi (Tsutomu Takakuwa) and Tommy (Kelly Varis) and their new mini-sub can hope to save the giant rocket-turtle in time!

The first two installments in the Gamera series were closer in nature to Toho’s Godzilla films, if marginally lighter, and suffered greatly by trying to take themselves too seriously. Beginning with “Return of the Giant Monsters”, the next three installments took a decidedly crazier and more kid-centric approach, and charming though they are, definitely narrowed the franchise’s demographic down to a very slim age group.

“Gamera vs. Monster X” tries to have it both ways, and at times rubs off awkwardly for it, but I felt this more balanced attempt makes it one of the strongest films in the series. The main kid protagonists are older than what we’d previously gotten; now teenagers instead of elementary school tykes. As with “Destroy All Planets”, the international cast is still present, giving us a mix of Japanese and this time British players to appeal to multi-ethnic audiences. The silly humor is definitely down-played but still ever present… sometimes to the point of utter nonsense (Gamera survives Jiger’s heat ray by stuff telephone poles in his ears. Wait, what?). And sometimes the funniest parts of the movie seem to have been completely unintentional. Example: After Gamera’s first battle with Jiger, he is defeated when he falls backward on his shell and can’t right himself. As Jiger destroys Osaka, the human characters declare with righteous certainty that Gamera will save them. The scene shifts back to Gamera, who is still wriggling on his back, helpless. As Jiger destroys more of Osaka, the characters begin wondering, “Where the Hell is Gamera?” The scene shifts back to Gamera… who is STILL trying to right himself. This goes back and forth a good three or four times.

Though Gamera is still a friend to children everywhere, the adults of Japan aren’t too fond of him and we get to see the Japanese military opening fire on the turtle for the first time since the original “Gammera the Invincible”. The real throwback to the earliest, more “serious” films in the series, though, comes in the newest kaiju to throwdown with Gamera: Jiger. Jiger is described as “a devil straight from Hell” in the film and he’s certainly meaner than the last batch of villains Gamera fought. He spends most of the film napping in Osaka for some inexplicable reason (as the kids journey into Gamera’s lungs to kill the parasite inside him), but when he’s awake, he spends the film destroying skyscrapers (the first time this series has had the budget for that in a while) for what appears to be the sheer fun of it. His roar is one of my favorites of any giant monster, as it really does sound furious, menacing and evil.

Jiger’s problem, though, comes in his completely random set of powers. He can fire a heat ray out of his mouth that disintegrates matter on an atomic level. He can shoot darts from the horns on his face. He can fly via compressed air propulsion. He can attract objects and enemies to him with suction pipes in his paws. And last but not least, he can inject enemies with parasitic larvae from a scorpion-like stinger on his tail. His powers are completely and utterly random, and while they make him a more than worthy adversary for the Friend to Children Everywhere, they just don’t make any sense.

With the larger budget and the wider demographic appeal, “Gamera vs. Monster X” definitely seemed like Daiei’s attempt to revitalize the series and bring in a new audience. If you’re watching the films sequentially, it comes as a welcomed breath of fresh air from the previous string of installments, which were getting cheaper and kiddier at an alarming rate. “Gamera vs. Monster X” has quite a bit of monster action going on, and even when Gamera’s sick and Jiger is sleeping, the two kids spend the downtime doing battle with a man-eating Jiger-larvae invading Gamera’s lungs. So far as Gamera movies go, at least where the Showa series is concerned, I’d definitely qualify it as one of the best.

Grade: B- (as in, “But I just realized that Gamera fights mostly four-legged kaiju for some reason”.)

Attack of the Monsters (1969)

2011-06-10T21:54:00.004-04:00

Also known as “Gamera vs. Guiron”, the fifth installment in Daiei’s Showa era Gamera series gets weirder, cheaper and more glorious. By this point, the “Friend to Children Everywhere” moniker has officially been coined and Gamera has now taken on the role of “best babysitter EVER”. Gamera seems to spend all his spare time playing with children, rescuing them and teaching important life lessons. The greatest thing is that Gamera has become entirely commonplace in the world of these films, to the point where his appearance among humans results in little more than an, “Oh, hey, it’s Gamera. ‘Sup?”

God, if only the real world could be as awesome as these movies.

Friends Akio (Nobuhiro Kajima) and Tom (Christopher Murphy) accidentally board a spaceship which whisks them away to Earth’s sister planet, Terra, where they’re greeted by a pair of sexy alien dames (Hiroko Kai and Reiko Kasahara). As it turns out, Terra is under siege by a swarm of Space Gyaos, with only the guardian monster Guiron to protect them. The kids think this is all cool beans until they learn that the ladies are actually brain-eating monsters with designs to turn Earth into a buffet table. Their lone salvation lays in the giant rocket-turtle Gamera, but he’ll have to get through Guiron first.

“Attack of the Monsters” recycles the Japanese/American kid dynamic from “Destroy All Planets”, which was a method I really appreciated. Gamera is supposed to be “Friend to Children EVERYWHERE”, after all, not just “Friend to Children, but Only in Japan”. So adding a multicultural human cast helped drive the point home, and likely helped Gamera’s appeal net a wider audience on a global level.

On the flip side, “Attack of the Monsters” boasts perhaps a bit too much of the main kid protagonists, with a human-to-monster ratio closer to your average Godzilla movie's. Previous Gamera outings were more interested in cramming the flicks with as many monster battles as possible, as Daiei recognized that kids saw these movies for the kaiju, not the plot. But I’m sure budgets have a way of changing all that, and this installment seems to have spent most of its allowance on the sets for the alien world of Terra. They’re as cheap as anything else you’ll find in the Showa era Gamera series, but there are a lot of them, as the kids explore the vast Terran complex and Gamera and Guiron duke it out on the scaled-down alien landscape.

Guiron is the “knife-monster”, if you can’t picture his face off the top of your head. Speaking of tops of heads, Guiron’s got a friggin’ butcher knife jutting out of his, making him the most visually bizarre kaiju that Gamera has faced so far. Guiron’s knife can deflect the supersonic beam attacks of the Space Gyaos and is sharp-enough to slice through even Gamera’s shell. He’s also decked out with shuriken that fly from his temples, making him a reasonably devious opponent for the heroic turtle and not a total mort like Viras was. Gamera’s battle with Guiron is short, which is something of a shame, though I have to say that I love the way he kills the villain at the end. He plants Guiron’s knife in the dirt with a rocket-powered pile-driver, stabs him through the brain with a missile and then detonates the warhead with his flamethrower breath, thus blowing the cur to pieces.

Don’t fuck with Gamera.

The lesson Akio learns at the end of the movie is pretty hilarious, not so much in its good natured intent, but with its rather backward delivery. After returning to Earth, Akio addresses the media (while otherwise looking like he’s talking directly to the audience) to let them know that all aliens are hostile douchebags, that Earth is the only planet that matters so we should stop wasting time and resources searching for life among the stars and focus on making Earth super-awesome. Can’t… Can’t we do both?

Gamera proceeds to nod his head in approval of the message, then giving a look that I swear is Rocket-Turtlese for “My work here is done”, proceeds to fly away to who-knows-where.

“Attack of the Monsters” is a step up from the previous film thanks mostly to having a really cool kaiju this time around, though the amount of monster battles seem to be dropping. Even so, the goofy fun of the movie keeps it from being boring, if not occasionally annoying, and if you’re into Asian chicks in stupid outfits then, boy, are you in for a treat.

Grade: C (as in, “Can’t forget to mention that the Space Gyaos, despite overrunning the planet, disappear halfway through the movie as soon as Gamera arrives. They know better than to fuck with Gamera”.)

Destroy All Planets (1968)

2011-06-03T23:16:00.003-04:00

Also known as “Gamera vs. Viras”. Just as the Showa era Gamera series was really starting to build-up steam, doing its own thing and being really fun and wacky, “Destroy All Planets” had to come along and wind everything back a notch. Buried within “Destroy All Planets” is actually a pretty decent, if typical, vintage Gamera film. It’s major failing is the over abundance of gratuitous stock footage making up about a quarter or more of the entire film. While it doesn’t whore the stock footage to the extent of, say, “Gamera: Super Monster”, the 20+ minutes of the stuff forces the film to really spin its wheels in the middle.

Deadly body-snatching aliens have decided that Earth is the perfect planet to colonize. Alas, there is one major obstacle in their path: a giant rocket-turtle named Gamera (Teruo Aragaki). Capitalizing on Gamera’s notorious love of all children, the aliens kidnap a pair of prank-playing Boy Scouts, Jim (Carl Craig) and Masao (Toru Takatsuka), thus forcing Gamera to do their bidding. As Gamera is brainwashed into destroying Tokyo, Jim and Masao search for a way to override the aliens’ mind control device and escape from their spacecraft. But even if they succeed, the aliens have a trump card up their tentacles: the gargantuan squid-monster Viras!

At its core, “Destroy All Planets” yearns to be a good Showa era Gamera movie, or at least as good as any other installment in that gloriously cheesy series. However, Daiei saddles it with a rather unfortunate budget, or lack thereof, which forces it to resort to extensive amounts of stock footage. There’s a 20-minute segment in the middle of the film where the aliens read Gamera’s mind, watching his battles with Barugon and Gyaos from “War of the Monsters” and “Return of the Giant Monsters”. If you’ve watched those films recently prior to viewing “Destroy All Planets”, this segment will drag like you wouldn’t believe. Though, on the flip side, if you haven’t seen either of those films, then the segment rubs off as those films boiled down to “the good stuff”, which may not be so bad.

Perhaps the film’s worst offense comes during Gamera’s Tokyo attack, which consists entirely of recycled footage from “Gammera the Invincible”. That’s right, the black and white one. So for about three or four minutes near the last third of the film, the otherwise color “Destroy All Planets” inexplicably turns black and white so it can save money. If Daiei were known for anything, generous spending it was not.

But ignoring the excess of stock footage, there’s a lot of fun stuff going on in “Destroy All Planets”. The prepubescent protagonists are two of the better kid heroes of the series, acting precociously ahead of their age and skipping much of the annoyance factor the little kids in these movies tend to exude. I honestly had no idea the Japanese had their own branch of the Boy Scouts, and the subplot makes for some nice metropolitan casting, giving us an American lead as well as a Japanese one. Incidentally, neither Jim nor Masao compete for “primary hero” status, with both having skills that help save the day. There’s some equal opportunity ethnic stereotyping going on, as Masao shows an aptitude for gadgets because all Japanese people are good at math and science, while Jim is a lasso-swinging prodigy because all Americans are cowboys.

Gamera’s love of children, while often used as a means of derision, is actually one of his strongest and most endearing qualities and it really shows through in “Destroy All Planets”. By the 60s, Toho’s Godzilla had been firmly established as a heroic character, though his personality could best be described as “standoffish”. This often kept Godzilla out of the main narrative since he wanted nothing to do with humans, leading the main cast to bogart 80% of the film. Gamera’s love of children allows him to socialize with the human cast and engage in antics that keep him active in the film even when there are no monsters to fight. For example, “Destroy All Planets” opens with Jim and Masao enjoying a friendly “race” with Gamera as they pilot a submarine.

Not counting the stock footage slapped into the middle of the film, “Destroy All Planets” takes a very long time to get to its monster battle, with the aliens not combining into the giant land-squid Viras until the last fifteen minutes or so. The newly-shot action footage before that consists mostly of Gamera battling their spaceship, which to Director Noriaka Yuasa’s credit, is actually pretty cool, particularly when Gamera sticks his head through the side of the ship and roasts all the aliens inside with his flame breath. Viras is a pretty stupid-looking kaiju, even by Daiei standards, and his power set pales in comparison to that of Gamera’s previous foes. His only real ability is the power to turn his cranium into a spear and then propel himself at Gamera in an attempt to impale him. To the regret of children everywhere, this strategy succeeds.

If one removed the needless mind-reading scene and Gamera’s recycled attack on Tokyo, “Destroy All Planets” would boil down to one of the more enjoyable films in the Showa series, if one without much of a giant monster battle. It has two surprisingly tolerable kids headlining the cast and quite a lot of giant turtle filling up the run time. If you simply opt to fast forward through the cheap retreaded moments, you’ll stand a better chance of seeing the positive qualities in this film.

Grade: D (as in, “Did you know that I was also in Boy Scouts when I was a kid? My greatest regret is that I never got my Rescued-A-Giant-Space-Turtle patch”.)

Hellraiser (Boom! Studios) #2

2011-05-30T19:16:00.005-04:00

Publication date: May, 2011

Written by: Clive Barker and Christopher Monfette
Art by: Leonardo Manco
Colors by: Charlie Kirchoff & Jordie Bellaire
Lettering by: Travis Lanham
Edited by: Ian Brill

“Pursuit of the Flesh, Part Two”

Clive Barker’s new “Hellraiser” series continues and thus far silences the concerns I voiced in my review for the first issue, namely the implementation of the Harrowers; that repulsive “superhero” team from the original “Hellraiser” comic book series. It’s always pleasant to be proven wrong in a manner that works in your favor, right?

“Pursuit of the Flesh, Part Two” sees Kirsty Cotton meeting with a mysterious society calling themselves “the Harrowers”; those who have escaped the Cenobites and sworn to end them by any means necessary. A mysterious letter from an unknown source has led them to the location of one more of LeMerchand’s puzzle-boxes, “the Carousel”, and using the tools they have at hand, they leave to collect it, activate it, destroy the Cenobites whom it summons and then destroy it when they’re finished. As Pinhead observes the whole ordeal, his servant (the farmer) tails Kirsty’s fiancé, Edgar, through an airport.

Now this is how the Harrowers should have been handled from the very beginning. Here, they’re a quartet of the select individuals lucky-enough to have escaped the grip of the Cenobites and use what they’ve learned to try and eliminate them through their only means of reaching Earth: LeMarchand’s puzzle-boxes. No acid-spitting superpowers, no extreme motorcycling through the gates of Hell, no farting comedy relief cherub sidekick… Just four nihilistic individuals taking a far more practical and strategic approach to ending Leviathan.

It’s a much more sophisticated and palatable take on the concept of a team determined to “fight the forces of evil”, forgoing the goofy superhero shtick that never worked with the tone of the “Hellraiser” franchise. The idea of the Harrowers tracking down the numerous and unique puzzle-boxes built by LeMerchand as a means to cut Leviathan off from his food source (souls) actually seems like a reasonable plan, or at least the most effective way anyone can “fight Hell” that I can think of.

One of the better things about the original “Hellraiser” comics is the extension of the mythos beyond just Pinhead and the Lament Configuration; showcasing a much larger and more epic picture of which the films only scratch the surface. LeMerchand was a far more sinister figure in the comics than the easily duped oaf seen in “Hellraiser: Bloodline” and there were many more puzzle-boxes of intricate and elaborate design than just the Lament Configuration. In fact, the comics often showed these “puzzles” to be more than literal, but sometimes intangible concepts or just plain ole force of will and desire.

The idea of a group of occultists who hunt down these “cursed artifacts” before they can do anymore harm, well, it gave me flashbacks to the unfortunately titled “Friday the 13th the Series”, but in a good way!

Another world-building element highlighted in this issue is that each puzzle-box summons different Cenobites and the Harrowers are never sure just what creatures they’ll be calling when they open it. Again, it’s a nice detail that illustrates that while Pinhead may be the “General”, there are lots of other Cenobites out there doing ghastly things across the world with their own wacky puzzle-boxes. Classic sitcom spin-off material, right there.

But focusing more on the plot-itself, the Harrowers come across as “prepared but not enough” in their quest to destroy the puzzle-boxes and their Cenobite guardians. They’re shown at length using detective skills to piece clues together to find the boxes and then using magical methods to better draw their prey out where they can dispose of them with modern and mystical weaponry. And yet… none of them take any precautions to protect themselves from hooks and chains? No body armor of any kind? You’d think that would be Rule #1 in their line of business.

Of the four Harrowers (Kirsty, Marcus, Bethany and Alex), only Kirsty displays any real personality, particularly in her concern for the safety of the family who accidentally inherited the puzzle-box. There’s some pretty clunky exposition where the other three Harrowers try to “subtly” slip-in their professions and worldviews into awkward dialogue exchanges (one is a paranoid doctor, one is a faith-less priest, one is a vengeful callgirl), but I’d rather the characters display their personalities than describe them to me. After the battle with the Cenobites summoned by the Carousel, I’m not even sure if they’re all alive, even. Ah well, no doubt future issues will afford them the opportunity to flesh themselves out.

The muddiness of Leonard Manco’s artwork can be both a blessing and a curse. I love the filthy atmosphere it exudes and his Cenobites just rock outloud. He even slips in some rather funny details here and there, such as Kirsty’s pencil-holder on page 1. However, I had a hard time following the action during the hectic Cenobite battle. For instance, there’s a scene where it looks like Bethany is trying to hand a dagger to Alex, who proceeds to go from empty-handed to equipped between panels and kills the Cenobite by stabbing it in the face. Next thing I know, Bethany is using the dagger I thought she handed to Alex to cut Marcus free from a chain. Did they both have daggers the whole time? Did Bethany give Alex her dagger then take it back once he was done? The art doesn’t make it clear.

But I can forgive snafus like that when you get art this positively bitchin’ at the same time:

Aw yeah.

There’s definitely a lot going on in this book, much of which I haven’t even touched upon yet (Who is “HD”? How are Pinhead’s machinations going to come together?). In just two issues and a prelude I feel like a lot of ground has been covered (most superhero comics these days don’t even get half this much plot in six issues) and I’m firmly hooked. The art can be a bit too hectic for its own good from time to time, but I’d say the ends justify the means when you look at the results. Though the dialogue is awkward when giving character introductions, Barker and Monfette still deserve ample amounts of cred for taking a concept from the Hellraiser Mythos I positively despised and reinventing it into something genuinely intriguing and fitting.

Grade: B (as in, “Boy, nothing slips by the watchful eye of our ever-vigilant TSA officers, does it?”)

Return of the Giant Monsters (1967)

2011-05-20T22:26:00.002-04:00

Also known as “Gamera vs. Gyaos”, this third installment in the Showa era Gamera series is where the franchise really hits its stride and finds the shamelessly absurd kid-oriented formula that works. “Return of the Giant Monsters” is perhaps the most well-known of all the films in the classic Gamera series, as it features one of Gamera’s most famous foes in Gyaos, who would be well-utilized in the Heisei era Gamera trilogy. In all honesty, “Return of the Giant Monsters” is where the vintage Gamera franchise genuinely starts to get good, as it wears it’s ridiculous nature on its sleeve, reveling in its own goofiness while simultaneously giving the audience of little kids more of what it wants: giant monster battles.

When highway workers accidentally set-off a chain of earthquakes that cause Mt. Fuji to erupt, the long-dormant giant vampire bat Gyaos awakens from his hibernation… with an appetite! The man-eater begins terrorizing the country, gobbling-up and scarfing-down any person it can get is claws on. Even the mighty turtle-monster Gamera (Teruo Aragaki) seems powerless to stop the beast, as its super-sonic beam is powerful-enough to slice through Gamera’s flesh and its fire-extinguishing smoke renders Gamera’s flamethrowers useless. Little Eiichi (Naoyuki Abe) hasn’t lost hope and is confident that Gamera will triumph. The adults surrounding him are a little less confident, though, and pool all their resources into defeating Gyaos with a giant blood-filled turntable. No, really.

If Daiei’s Gamera series had one thing over Toho’s better-known Godzilla series, it would have to be that it knew precisely what audience it was playing toward (small children) and precisely what they came to theater’s looking for (giant silly monsters fighting each other). The Godzilla films, awesome though they are, were often prone to distracting themselves with the human-centric plots, relegating the kaiju to an afterthought, not to be dragged out until the end of the film. The Gamera series, on the other hand, had no pretenses of cinematic artistry or broad demographic appeal. Kids wanted to see giant monsters wailing on each other for 80 minutes and by god, Daiei was gonna give it to em!

True, the previous installment in the series, “War of the Monsters”, suffered from trying to focus on a boring, adult-centric plot, keeping the star turtle out of the spotlight for fifty minutes, but “Return of the Giant Monsters” is where the franchise turns around, stops trying to copy Godzilla’s formula and begins doing its own unique and undeniably fun thing.

Gamera officially becomes a Friend to Children Everywhere with this installment, going out of his way to save little Eiichi from Gyaos’ dinner plate, even giving him a ride to town and waiting patiently while human rescue workers get him off the back of his shell (and even responds to polite requests to “move closer”!). This inexplicable affection for pudgy little Asian kids would become Gamera’s stock and trade for the rest of the Showa series, firmly entrenching the character as a children’s icon.

The evil kaiju of the film is Gyaos, a colossal vampire bat that is almost ridiculously overpowered. Gyaos can fire a super-sonic beam from its mouth that can cut through just about anything (except Gamera’s impervious shell, of course), create hurricane-level winds with its wings, re-grow lost body parts and is even equipped with a fire-extinguishing powder that can douse Gamera’s flame attacks. Gamera and Gyaos proceed to battle three times throughout the course of this film, with Gyaos pretty much mopping the floor with our heroic turtle every time. Gamera doesn’t take the upper hand until he cleverly stuffs a boulder in Gyaos’ mouth and drags him into a volcano. Scoff all you want, but his strategy for victory is still markedly more intelligent than the Japanese military’s (and more effective, too).

The middle section of “Return of the Giant Monsters” revolves around a failed attempt by the military to defeat Gyaos using an amusement park merry-go-round outfitted with a fountain of synthetic blood. Since Gyaos dies when exposed to sunlight, they figure that they’ll lure him to the merry-go-round and then make him too dizzy to escape when the sun comes up.

That bullshit probably cost the Japanese tax payers twenty billion yen or something. Money well-spent.

It’s hard to really level any serious criticisms at “Return of the Giant Monsters”, as that would almost be like missing the point. In many ways, it’s a far more satisfying giant monster film for children than most Godzilla fair, as it offers lots of giant monster battles throughout its 80 minutes and the silliness is quite fun. The bad special effects go without saying by this point and adults may find the Mystery Science Theater 3000 version as its only source of genuine entertainment. But if you’re going into a Gamera movie then I’m sure you already know what to expect, and “Return of the Giant Monsters” is where the series really hits its stride. So give the turtle a break. He’d probably babysit for you.

Grade: C+ (as in, “Can’t seem to find the name of the actor who played Gyaos. I suspect Daiei is trying to cover something up…”)

Friday the 13th part VI: Jason Lives (1986)

2011-05-14T18:31:00.002-04:00

“Friday the 13th part VI: Jason Lives” represents a major transitioning phase in the original “Friday the 13th” film series, where Jason graduates from angry hillbilly to unstoppable zombie super monster. What little pretenses of reality that remained in the series take a hike as “Friday the 13th” becomes a bombastic supernatural thrill-ride for the remainder of the series, at least until the 2009 reboot.

So, naturally, you find something of a line drawn in the sand between the fans; some like the hillbilly Jason while others prefer the zombie approach. I think both takes have their merits, though I feel the majority of the franchise’s worst films dwell within the zombie-half. “Jason Lives” isn’t what I’d qualify as one of the worst films in the series, featuring an array of brutal kills and one of the most iconic finales in the whole franchise, but the overabundance of humor may grate on you after a while.

Fresh out of the mental institution, Tommy Jarvis (Thom Matthews) is ready to get some therapy his way. Looking for closure, Tommy exhumes the worm-eaten corpse of serial killer Jason Voorhees (C.J. Graham) with the intent of cremating the hockey mask-wearing lunatic. Alas, a stray lightning bolt throws a wrench into the works, reanimating the Camp Blood killer as a shambling zombie, impervious to bullets and more powerful than ever before. Nice going, Tommy. Jason eventually finds his way back to Camp Crystal Lake, renamed during his dirt nap as “Camp Forest Green” and decides its high past time he cleaned house.

The first five installments in the “Friday the 13th” franchise hindered on some sense of believability, with the murderer just being a crazy retard in the woods that hated having kids getting high on his lawn. Director Tom McLoughlin, put in a tight situation thanks to Jason’s clear-cut death at the end of “Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter”, has no choice but to let slip the dogs of absurdity and just get cuh-razy up in this joint, with Jason coming back to life Frankenstein-style and slaughtering Horseshack from “Welcome Back Kotter” in the first couple of minutes.

The series also earns a glossier, more high-budget sheen to it, beginning with this film, removing the low-budget charm of the earlier installments in favor of a Summer Blockbuster feel, complete with more epic and outrageous stories as well as a kickass soundtrack by Alice Cooper. Yessir, we have definitely crossed over into a whole new era for “Friday the 13th”.

Tom McLoughlin employs a lot of humor in this film, making it a dark comedy at best and a self-parody at worst. The comedy never becomes as intrusive and overbearing as, say, “Bride of Chucky”, but the more jovial tone is ever-present and inescapable. I enjoyed many of the gags, such as the “James Bond” title sequence, the bloody smiley face on the tree and most of the antics between Tommy and the town Sheriff’s daughter, Megan (Jennifer Cooke). But other jokes simply go too far, such as the two kids making annoying commentary during Jason’s campground rampage or a sequence where a gravedigger breaks the fourth wall and criticizes the audience for their “strange idea of entertainment”.

“Jason Lives” also suffers from a pretty awful editing and pacing problem, which I’m not so inclined to lay on McLoughlin’s lap. After shooting the film, Paramount execs wanted more kills, so several new scenes were added and shoehorned into the film to increase the bodycount. So we end up with several meaningless characters that don’t interact with any of the main cast, appearing only to die (after delivering as much “comedy” as possible, of course). At barely 85 minutes in length, the movie struggles to fit all these scenes in. On the other hand, it pretty much feels like “The Best Day EVER” for Jason, as he’s only awake for maybe 24 hours and the scores of imbeciles are just lining up for him to dismember like ducks in a row. By the time Saturday the 14th rolls around and he’s been returned to the grave, the guy has had a hell of a work-out.

The kills suffer from late 80s slasher film editing that the fans despise oh-so-much, but the lack of bloody pay-off doesn’t take away from their ingenuity, and while we don’t always get to see the moment of impact, we see enough to know “Man, that must have sucked”. Horseshack gets his heart ripped out of his chest, the Sheriff is literally folded in half, a yuppie couple are impaled kabob-style on a motorcycle, a bimbo gets her face pressed through the aluminum wall of an RV and a counselor gets a spear through the mouth, staking her head to the bottom of a mud puddle.

Jason deserves a golf-clap for that last one.

“Jason Lives” signals a new direction for the series that would only proceed to get more ridiculous with each successive installment, eventually signaling the end of the franchise, but the blame lies more on those shitty movies than this not-completely-shitty movie. While the pace is break-neck, I’d still take it over the slow-burn approach in installments like “The Final Chapter”. I watch these movies to see stupid people get slaughtered, not party like douchebags. And in that respect, “Jason Lives” totally delivers.

Grade: C- (as in, “Counselors act like they’re so self-aware in this movie, yet they can’t keep themselves from dying”.)

Cat's Eye (1985)

2011-05-08T18:45:00.006-04:00

"Cat’s Eye" is an anthology horror film written by Stephen King that isn't "Creepshow", thus immediately putting it at a disadvantage thanks to compare/contrast. Still, even from a fair and objective perspective, the film suffers from a rather unbalanced pair of clashing sensibilities, unable to decide whether it wants to be a reality-grounded suspense/thriller or a goofy supernatural monster movie. The indecision on part of Director Lewis Teague is perhaps its most damaging quality, but the first two out of three installments that remain consistent with their brand of horror are definately great stories.

"Cat’s Eye" boasts three tales of terror, all told through the eyes of a stray cat, journeying across America to find a little girl (Drew Barrymore) he psychically senses is in trouble. Along the way he is witness to several macabre oddities.

The first story features James Woods as Dick Morrison, a hopeless chain-smoker seeking aid from “Quitters Inc.” Quitters Inc. is willing to help him kick his smoking habit, but only by using the most extreme measures. Much against his will, they have Dick monitored day and night. Should he be caught smoking, they threaten to kidnap his wife and torture her with electro-shock. Should he be caught a second time, they will dish out the same torture to his daughter. A third offense would result in his wife being brutally raped by one of their more deranged employees. And a 4th offense… Well, you don’t wanna know. Dick is horrified at the penalties and must choose between his sweet, sweet lung candy or the love of his family.

An excellent story, setting the tone for "Cat’s Eye" as something of a (very) dark comedy. James Woods' situation is often played for laughs, mostly when he's screwing up or having trippy nicotine fits, but the humor only serves to keep the audience off-guard for when the horror happens. Perhaps the most frightening scene in the movie occurs when Woods discovers an agent from Quitters Inc. standing quietly in his closet. The agent is visable only as a pair of wet boots and remains silent and motionless the entire time, but that display only makes it more effective.

Additionally, being a non-smoker, Teague managed to find a way to make cigarettes look even more disgusting to me, thanks in large part to a surreal hallucination sequence.

The second story features a down-on-his-luck tennis player being taken hostage by a millionare gambler. As it turns out, the tennis player had stolen his wife and the millionare wants payback. Always a betting-man, the millionare offers a wager to the tennis yuppie: climb all the way around the ledge of his 30 story skyscraper and he’ll let him go. The tennis player takes the challenge, but as you can guess, finds a few surprises he hadn’t expected.

Now this is the best story in the film, even if the "rich man wants deadly vengeance on the yuppie that stole his wife" schtick was already done in the aforementioned "Creepshow". While the catalyst for the millionare's overly-complex vengeance may not be so original, the scenario he thrusts his hapless victim into is positively nerve-racking to anyone who is even remotely afraid of heights. King and Teague heighten the tension by setting up several obstacles in the yuppie’s path, including territorial pigeons, electric signs and the millionare-himself, popping in and out of windows in attempts to frighten the yuppie off the ledge.

It's a very simple story in and of itself, but that doesn't make it any less exciting. The pay-off at the end is pretty satisfying, too.

The final story is, unfortunately, the weakest. The cat finally reaches the little girl’s home and discovers that she is the target of a diminuitive troll that wishes to steal her breath as she sleeps. The cat does everything in its power to protect the little girl, but is consistently impeded by the girl’s mother, who just hates cats.

One of these things is not like the other.

While the first two stories were more-or-less realistic, if melodramatic, the final episode of "Cat's Eye" is entirely out-there and, to be frank, kinda stupid.

To give credit where credit is due, the effects for the troll are superbly realized. The crew built an entire in-scale set of a child’s massive bedroom, making the guy in the troll costume running around look believably tiny. The troll-itself has a great outfit and anamatronic facial puppetry as well, with some rather eerie glowing red eyes. The primary drawback for the troll, however, is that it's voiced by cartoon legend, Frank Welker... using a voice identical to the one he would use for Slimer from "The Real Ghostbusters".

The story is very “fun”, meant to be taken lightly, and lacks the dark comedy and, obviously, the realistic tension that made the first two stories work so well. The gags during the troll's final attack on Drew Barrymore come off as a little too childish, as he spins around on a record player and engages in other cartoonish, slapstick antics.

"Cat’s Eye" is an anthology horror film with a very strong beginning that ultimately fumbles at the finish by switching gears way too abruptly. But, to make one last compliment, that cat they used for the film is a freakin’ genius. I have trouble just getting my cats to find the litterbox, this one seemed smart-enough to write my term papers for me.

Grade: C+ (as in, “Can I really take a monster seriously when he sounds like Nibbler from Futurama?”)

Scooby-Doo! Camp Scare (2010)

2011-04-28T22:38:00.005-04:00

The Scooby-Doo franchise has really been kicking ass lately and that’s kind of a weird sentence to type, now that I’m looking at it. The most recent television series, “Scooby-Doo: Mystery Incorporated”, has been tons of fun and the latest straight-to-video movies have been some of the best in the series. “Scooby-Doo! Camp Scare” continues the upward trend in production quality begun by the previous installment, “Scooby-Doo! Abracadabra-Doo!”, outdoing its predecessor and ranking the best straight-to-video Scooby flick since the annual series began in 1998 with “Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island”.

Its summer and the Mystery Inc. gang have decided to take it easy by working as camp counselors at Fred’s childhood summer camp, Camp Little Moose. However, because these meddling kids can’t seem to catch a freakin’ break, Camp Little Moose has recently become haunted by a trio of fiendish creeps straight out of campfire ghost stories. The axe-wielding maniac known as the Woodsman poses the biggest threat, urging all those tarrying in Little Moose to “Get out!”, while the Fish-Man of Lake Big Moose and the Spectre of Shadow Canyon are nothing to scoff at, either. There’s a mystery to be solved, no doubt, but Fred, Velma, Daphne, Shaggy and Scooby will have to find answers alongside their three preteen campers: Trudy, Luke and Deacon.

The annual tradition of straight-to-video Scooby-Doo movies had been in something of a rut for about, oh, seven years or so. While the production quality started out strong with “Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island” and “Scooby-Doo and the Witch’s Ghost”, by the time the fourth installment, “Scooby-Doo and the Cyber Chase” was through, the films began a rapid nosedive. The production values were getting worse and worse, particularly when the films adopted the “What’s New, Scooby-Doo?” design aesthetic, losing the exciting, dark, cinematic sheen the early installments had boasted, replacing them with drab, one-layer colors and cost-efficient animation in the truest Hanna-Barbara tradition. I believe the series reached its absolute zenith of terrible with “Scooby-Doo! and the Goblin King”. No amount of Jim Belushi, Wayne Knight or Tim Curry could redeem that disaster.

However, the series received a much-needed kick in the pants with “Scooby-Doo! Abracadabra-Doo” (which I’ll review as soon as Cartoon Network reruns it and refreshes my memory), bringing back a higher quality in the animation and a far more dynamic, cinematic sensibility. “Camp Scare” keeps the train rolling, being even better.

I wish I could tell you what (most likely Japanese) studio animated this film, as I’m normally into that sort of stuff, but since I saw it on TV, the end credits were scrunched into illegibility in order to make room for commercials. Be that as it may, the animation in this film is fantastic. The action sequences have a lot of oomph to them and all the characters boast shading (something the previous string of installments in the film series lacked), giving them more dimension and depth. Director Ethan Spaulding really treats this thing like an actual movie, taking greater care in how “shots” are set-up, trying to avoid bland “left-to-right” two-dimensional Hanna-Barbara techniques. There are some great multi-plane tracking shots for moments as mundane as the characters walking down a row of cabins, with each cabin animated in cel-shaded CG for extra effect. While I’m not sure “Camp Scare” has quite enough production value to pass as a theatrical animated flick, so far as straight-to-video animation is concerned, this is really on the high end.

Horror fans may want to take notice, as “Camp Scare” dredges up classic campfire ghost and monster stories, naturally treading into “Friday the 13th” territory. I honestly cannot think of any Scooby media off the top of my head where the gang is menaced by an axe-wielding maniac, but I’ve got to say, it’s pretty awesome. I’d also like to give Spaulding an extra round of applause for what has got to be the most surprisingly hardcore pre-title sequence I’ve ever seen in a Scooby cartoon. Done shot-for-shot in live-action and it could easily have passed for a horror movie’s pre-title sequence. While the Woodsman gets the most screentime, the other monsters of the film deserve some credit, particularly the Fish-Man, who makes for some fairly nail-biting underwater action sequences. The villains in “Camp Scare” are shockingly violent and dark for typical Scooby content, as they evidently want to do more than just “scare the locals away”; they straight up want to kill the meddling kids by chopping them into little bits or drowning them in a lake. Yikes.

So far as the story goes, the pacing is a steady back-and-forth of monster action and outdoor antics. Basically, the Woodsman/Fish-Man/Spectre shows up and terrorizes the gang, the gang escapes to roast marshmallows/play in the lake/cook chili, repeat until the end. The actual mystery of the film is about as telegraphed as most Scooby material, save for a pretty good twist at the climax which is funny whether you saw it coming or not.

Oddly, the standard “cheesy, fake rock music montage” isn’t used for a chase sequence, but for a simple “good times” sequence as the gang and the campers have fun at the lake. I’m pretty certain that it’s Jess Harnell singing the goofy song which makes it far more endurable than most Scooby music, as Harnell is a very good singer (he sings most of the non-cast songs on “Phineas and Ferb”; a totally awesome show, by the way). The montage also randomly featured this moment:

I… I honestly don’t remember either of them being that hot when I was a kid.

Character-wise, this is “classic” Scooby, not “Mystery Incorporated” Scooby, so the relationships and quirks created for that show aren’t present here. The standard cast (Frank Welker as Scooby and Fred, Grey Delisle as Daphne, Mindy Cohn as Velma and Matthew Lillard as Shaggy) turn in a great performance, but all of them have been playing the gang for so many years that it must come naturally. Even Lillard, the “new” voice of Shaggy already has years of experience with the character under his belt, having played him in both live-action feature films.

So instead, let’s discuss the new one-shot characters. I really liked the trio of campers tagging along in this film. Deacon (Mark Hamill) sort of fades into the background and doesn’t get to do or say much, but there’s an in-story reason for that which I’m going to do my best not to ruin for you. Luke (Scott Menville) is basically Fred Jr., sharing in his exuberance and physical stamina, though to the point of exhausting his mentor. Menville had previously voiced Shaggy in “Shaggy and Scooby-Doo get a Clue”, but here he uses his popular “kid” voice that he’s been pimping since he was Ma-Ti on “Captain Planet”. To the guy’s credit, the voice hasn’t lost a beat in twenty years.

Trudy (Tara Strong), though, rubbed off as my favorite of the campers. She’s a gloomy emo-kid who hates the outdoors and socializing and just wants to go back to her computer. Tara Strong uses a voice similar to a previous emo-kid character she played, Raven in “Teen Titans”, and it’s very distinctive and cute. She seems to endure the most development of the kids as the film progresses, latching onto Velma and gradually coming out of her shell, embracing her talents to help solve the mystery and yadda yadda yadda. “Camp Scare” left me hoping to see Trudy and Luke make a comeback in future straight-to-video Scooby movies, but I know I shouldn't get my hopes up for such a thing. Outside of the Hex Girls, characters introduced in these movies are never seen or heard from again (and outside of “Mystery Incorporated”, the same is true for one-shot characters in all Scooby television shows, as well).

There’s also Stephen Root as the head counselor of the camp, Dee Bradley Baker as a town deputy with an eye for Velma (leading to some pretty funny dialogue exchanges) and Lauren Tom as a female counselor from rival Camp Big Moose who inadvertently challenges Daphne for Fred’s attention.

In closing, “Scooby-Doo! Camp Scare” is another bold step in the right direction for the straight-to-video film series and easily one of the best in the whole franchise. The production values are impressive, the action is intense, the atmosphere is dark, the villains are uncommonly threatening and the humor packs a stronger punch than it has in years. Warner Bros have really been revitalizing the Scooby franchise lately and “Camp Scare” definitely reflects the extra exertion of effort between their staff and their pocket books. For anyone with even a passing interest in Scooby-Doo, “Camp Scare” is definitely worth your time.

Grade: B (as in, “But Daphne is totally rocking a spray-on tan in this movie. I almost thought they changed her ethnicity at first glance”.)

The Changeling (1980)

2011-04-23T23:31:00.005-04:00

“The Changeling” is, if you ask me, a haunted house movie for people who like movies. It’s a very well-written, well-acted, well-scored and just generally well-made movie deserving of far more credit for the quality of its production than it is typically regarded with. An old fashioned-type of horror movie, it takes more of its cues from classics such as “The Haunting” and even Old Guards such as “The Cat and the Canary” than the more bombastic haunted house flicks that were emerging at the time (in fact, it came out two months before “The Shining”). “The Changeling” is an excellent example of how you can get the most out of a ghost story while resorting to some of the least effects.

After losing his wife and daughter to a car accident, composer John Russell (George C. Scott) moves into a sprawling, secluded mansion in Seattle for some peace and quiet. He gets neither, however, as a noisy presence in the house continues to harass him; leading him into various secrets buried within the estate. As Jack digs deeper into the history of the home and the family who built it, he finds himself entrenched in a murder mystery that puts him at odds with the powerful Senator Joe Carmichael (Melvyn Douglas).

“The Changeling” is a haunted house movie more concerned with atmosphere and technique as a means to implant a disturbed and creeped-out vibe within the audience, opting to utilize the more outrageous and horrific scare tactics sparingly and strategically. So many modern horror films have forgotten this method, employing a “jump scare” or a “false alarm” at a mile-a-minute pace, never bothering to stop and craft a sense of dread or paranoia, instead. I mean, why bother playing with the audience’s nerves when you can just bombard them with telegraphed “jump scares” every other minute?

So the sorts of ghostly phenomenon seen in “The Changeling” are of the traditional, “realistic” variety: Loud noises, disembodied voices, doors opening on their own and so forth. Aside from the film’s “big finish”, the only time I felt this technique was betrayed was with the “bouncing ball” sequence that seemed like just a tad too much.

The best aspect to “The Changeling”, in my opinion, would be the house-itself. It is positively massive and maze-like, with long, winding staircases and narrow, dark, endless hallways that are all unique and beautifully-crafted (the entire house was a set, both exterior and interior, but built so well you’d never guess it). While smaller, more suburban homes certainly have their more relatable charms when it comes to haunted house flicks, the humongous castle-like variety are always a welcomed alternative. An important part of the film’s plot involves a sealed-up room at the tip-top of the house, and Director Peter Medak is always sure to take the audience down all the lengthy corridors and up the many spiraling staircases it takes to reach that deeply buried chamber, creating a wonderful “in the belly of the beast” effect. The incredible length from that room to the safety of the front door is highlighted during the aforementioned “big finish”, as part of a thrilling chase sequence.

As an anecdote, I remember when I was about twelve years old or so, I had to help a friend of my father’s move into a massive colonial era mansion way down in rural Virginia. Secluded on top of a hill, the place was every bit the dead-ringer for a haunted house and I got to spend a few good hours exploring it all by myself… before the power company had turned on the electricity, too. It’s a rather fond memory of mine, as it’s not every day you get to go crawling around a dark and spooky two hundred year old mansion all by yourself. Whenever I watch “The Changeling” it reminds me of that, that’s all.

I mentioned earlier that this is a haunted house movie for people who like well-made movies, and I wasn’t exaggerating; this is a very well-made movie. The editing is superb, as scenes segue into each other creatively and unexpectedly. The score by Rick Wilkins compliments the editing especially well, particularly when main character John Russell’s haunting piano music carries over from one scene to another; from piano to tape recording. One of the best things about the first half of this movie, though, is that it relishes silence. So many haunted house films made these days simply don’t know when to shut the hell up and let the ambient noise do the talking. When Russell is alone in the house, which is quite often, he doesn’t talk to himself to create levity or awkward exposition for the audience, nor is there an overbearing soundtrack to drown out the atmosphere, either. It’s just him and the eerie noises all around him and the audience shares in his feeling of isolation and terror.

I’m hard-pressed to consider any major complaints about the film. Though I suppose I had a qualm or two with the film's living "antagonist". The Senator character is seen briefly near the beginning of the film, but disappears completely, even from so much as referencing, until just over the one-hour mark. He really has no relation to the characters on any level until they do some digging into his history at the spirit’s behest, so as it is, he doesn’t have much time to build any depth or personality. That leaves his “just desserts” at the climax feeling rather hollow and the brief insight into his personality and self-image we got during his one scene with John Russell left me with the impression he was as much a victim of his family’s misdeeds as the apparition and didn’t really deserve the harsh fate he received.

“The Changeling” probably could have used a better title, too, as it expects most folks to know just what the heck a “changeling” is, and let’s be perfectly honest here: most people don’t.

Anyhow, this is definitely one of the best “classical” haunted house flicks you’ll ever have the opportunity to enjoy. The cast is extremely limited and George C. Scott puts in a truly remarkable performance. While I wouldn’t rank it as one of the scariest haunted house films I’ve ever seen, as it can be pretty mellow, it definitely excels at creating atmosphere and selling the nature of the haunting (it has one of the best séance sequences of any haunted house film I’ve ever seen, and I normally hate anything involving psychics).

Grade: B+ (as in, “But Hans Moleman has ruined George C. Scott for me forever”.)

13 Ghosts (1960)

2011-04-17T15:35:00.002-04:00

The 1950s was the era of “cinema gimmickry”, introducing fads like 3D, Smell-o-Vision and that thing “House on Haunted Hill” did with the skeleton puppet on the zip-line. In that sense, coming out in 1960, “13 Ghosts” is sort of a straggler from that era, hinging on its own ridiculous gimmick: the “Ghost Viewer”. While I felt that the gimmick hindered the film as much as it helped it (more on that later), “13 Ghosts” still has enough positive qualities to make it one of the better old haunted house flicks of the era.

When the Zorba family inherits their late uncle’s sprawling estate, they soon find out that their departed relative had a rather odd hobby: he collected ghosts. Accumulating a total of twelve (factoring himself into the sum), with a thirteenth predicted to join the ranks momentarily, his collection brings the Zorbas to their wit’s end in only a few days. Their lawyer, Ben Rush (Martin Milner) may have a solution to get them out of the place, but will they escape before the prophecy of murder is fulfilled and the thirteenth ghost is revealed?

“13 Ghosts” opens with a light-hearted introduction from Director/Producer William Castle, showing audiences when and how to use the “Ghost Viewer” provided to them. When the screen turns blue, look through the lens and you’ll see the ghosts that would otherwise be invisible. Certainly a “neat” concept, though it comes attached with one fatal flaw: no surprises. When the screen turns blue, you know for a fact that ghosts will be showing up, dulling the experience. There are a few surprise scares when the screen is its normal black and white (the Ouija board sequence, in particular), but they’re few and far between. “13 Ghosts” relies strictly on its gimmick, and though it can make for some cool visuals (the translucent, blood-red specters), it still proceeds to rob the film of the element of surprise; a horror flick’s greatest asset.

But “13 Ghosts” true strengths lie not within its gimmick, but in its snappy script by Robb White. The film has a decidedly tongue-in-cheek tone and, while not a knee-slapper, can be pretty clever and funny when it wants to be. The youngest of the Zorbas, Buck (Charles Herbert) looks upon his ghostly roommates in a manner somewhere between amusement and apathy, paying little mind to the creeps while his family is busy freaking the hell out. The best example of this follows a drawn-out sequence where Buck is in the basement, watching a headless lion-tamer trying to get his noggin out of the belly of his ferocious ghostly feline. Buck then proceeds to go upstairs and nonchalantly tell his mother, “So I saw a lion”. Mommy basically responds with, “That’s nice dear. Eat your breakfast”.

The film is full of moments like that which are probably my favorite parts. A few of the jokes get a bit absurd, particularly when some of the ghosts are played for comedic effect (a dead Italian chef with a glowing moustache or two dead teenagers making out all the time and speaking with “Chipmunk” style voices). The good humor outweighs the overbearing, though, so don’t be put off.

The other highpoint of “13 Ghosts” comes in its twist ending (which, if you don’t want spoiled for you, you should quit reading my review right now). You spend the whole film really attaching to the Ben Rush character, as he’s genuinely charming and sincere in his desire to help the Zorba’s. In the end, you learn his true motivations which cast a starkly different context on all his actions from the first half of the film (particularly, his wining and dining of Medea Zorba; played by Jo Morrow). At first, you almost don’t want to believe it and even consider giving him the benefit of the doubt, but once he attempts to murder Buck, well, never mind.

The titular baker’s dozen phantoms are all given their own unique visual designs which give them a lot of personality, even if you only see each briefly throughout the film (and a few I don’t think you even see outside of the title sequence). While, yes, some are played for comedy, that doesn’t speak to all of them. The scene where Cyrus Zorba (Donald Woods) is accosted by a trio in his uncle’s study shows off some rather morbid effects, as a hag, a skeleton and a disembodied head proceed to burst into flames and dance around in agony.

“13 Ghosts” suffers from a few plot conveniences (everyone, even those outside the family, seems to accept the existence of ghosts rather matter-of-factly) and the gimmick sticks a knife in any chances it might have to shocking the audience, but strong visual effects and a self-aware sense of humor, as well as a well-executed twist ending, go a long way toward making up for those setbacks. It’s hard to call this a “classic” of its genre, but it’s certainly an enjoyable product of its time.

Grade: B (as in, “Buck should endeavor not to be such a heavy sleeper”.)

Spooky Classic Cartoon Shorts

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Looking for some spooky or weird classic cartoons to enjoy or maybe just run in the background while you type? Well, as someone who loves animation as much as I love horror, I can list off quite a few of my favorite olde timey cartoons; most of which have a unifying theme of weirdness or goofy horror.

While there are certainly quite a few modern classics of horror animation out there, such as “The Sandman” or “The Killing of an Egg”, I want to limit this article to just some selections of classic shorts, pre-1960, perhaps.

Some of these cartoons are available on DVD, either on public domain disks or on overpriced box set collections (like the Disney Treasures line), so tracking them down that way might be a little difficult. However, there’s always You Tube…

*The Skeleton Dance (Walt Disney, 1929)

(click here for my in-depth review of the short)

What better place to start than with the classic Walt Disney/Ub Iwerks creation, “The Skeleton Dance”?

In this short, midnight awakens a gaggle of cavorting skeletons that frolic around a graveyard until the break of dawn.

Though harmless (you’ll find a lot of my selections to be so), it has its own spooky and hypnotic quality. Animation historian Leonard Maltin described it as, “…an eerie, almost magical film. There’s something disarming about its utter simplicity.” The music by Carl Stalling certainly helps, hitting several familiar tunes we subconsciously recognize as being “scary”, such as Saint-Saëns’ “Danse Macabre” and Edvard Grieg’s “The March of the Trolls”.

Ub Iwerks would try to recreate the film for his 1937 color short, “Skeleton Frolic”, while working for Columbia Pictures. The remake (having been directed by Iwerks but not animated by him) just doesn’t stand up to the original’s presence, even if the design work on that short is far more menacing in appearance and some of the newly created gags are genuinely creepy on a visual level.

*The Devil’s Ball (Wladyslaw Starewicz, 1934)

I first encountered “The Devil’s Ball”, a stop-motion animated film, on a DVD set of public domain works called “The Complete Weird Cartoons” released by Johnny Legend and Shout! Factory. I found out later that “The Devil’s Ball” was actually the middle-section of a 30-minute animated film titled “The Mascot” that was later recut into a stand-alone short film.

In this segment of the film, a slew of characters (toys brought to life) attend a ball thrown by the Devil-himself, populated by freakish monsters of all shapes and sizes.

While taken by itself, the narrative loses some impact (mostly in regards to the motivations of the main characters), it’s nevertheless a very fascinating piece of obscure animation and more widely available than the complete “The Mascot” film, mainly due to its shorter length being more palatable to audiences. Only being the second segment of the film, though, it resolves one conflict (the main protagonist defies the Devil’s influences) while leaving another wide open (the love interest is left in a rather precarious situation by the segment’s end, being fondled by a gorilla) to be dealt with by the film’s conclusion.

The full segment is actually closer to 10 minutes, while the often seen “short version” is only 5, so you get a lot of good stuff cut out when taken in such a dose.

Starewicz was a highly imaginative guy and a master of stop-motion animation in the earliest days of the technique. His 1922 short, “Frogland”, might give you an idea of how nutty the dude was, as it features a community of frogs praying to Zeus for various favors, only to end up pissing him off and getting devoured one-by-one by a monstrous heron. But films such as “Frogland” almost seem mundane in comparison to “The Devil’s Ball”, as Starewicz goes all-out and really lets his dark vision fly.

All manner of objects spring to life so that they can attend the Devil’s Ball; such as shreds of newspaper, rags, wads of straw, the skeletal remains of a dead bird and other various chunks of litter. They all have a gruesome and twisted look about them that can be more than a little unnerving. Starewicz employs a number of techniques that were truly novel in their day, at least in combination with stop-motion animation. For instance, a number of band players are portrayed by balloons that gradually deflate and inflate as they play. With this being stop-motion, that means a precise fraction of air had to be released or pumped in for every frame.

The entire sequence is pretty nightmarish and totally bizarre, including a scene where a skeletal bird lays an egg and flies away. The egg proceeds to hatch into a baby skeleton which then dances a jig while still partially inside the egg shell. It’s all that kinda stuff.

Sadly, I do not know if “The Mascot” is available anywhere on DVD (it certainly isn’t in R1), but you can get the truncated version if you want. It cuts out a lot of the good stuff, though.

*Shiver Me Timbers! (Max Fleischer, 1934)

For a guy who was in about six trillion short films throughout the 30s and 40s, Popeye the Sailor did surprisingly few “spooky” ones. One of the earliest, though (Popeye’s 13th short, fittingly enough) was “Shiver Me Timbers!”, an exercise in old school Fleischer Brothers animation of the surrealist variety.

When Popeye, Olive Oyl and Wimpy decide to investigate a creepy ghost ship, the vessel springs to life and whisks them across dangerous seas. Ghosts begin crawling out of the woodwork and Popeye does his thing with the spinach. You know the drill.

This one sports all the hallmarks of the older Fleischer Studios “Betty Boop” cartoons; inanimate objects coming alive, in particular. Portholes wink like eyes, rope ladders vanish into thin air and deck planks play xylophone music. It’s more funny than scary, but the gags and the music are certainly weird. And hey, Popeye totally wrecks Olive’s shit when he mistakes her for a ghost (in fact, he beats the crap out of her in a lot of these old cartoons).

Being one of the earliest Popeye shorts, the title sailor is voiced by Bill Costello rather than Jack Mercer, so he’s rougher and gruffer, lacking Mercer’s more humorous qualities. Likewise, Olive has that tough Brooklyn accent she sported in her earliest appearance rather than the high pitched tones of Mae Questel.

*The Mad Doctor (Walt Disney, 1933)

The recent Wii video game, “Epic Mickey”, has brought this nearly forgotten black and white Mickey Mouse classic back into prominence, as it should be, since “The Mad Doctor” is one of the best installments in the original Mickey Mouse short film series.

Late one dark and stormy night, Pluto is kidnapped by a hooded figure. Mickey tracks the fiend back to his castle lair, but once inside, finds himself besieged by skeletons. Meanwhile, the Mad Doctor prepares to perform some unnecessary surgery on poor Pluto.

People often chide Mickey for being boring and not a particularly enthralling leading man for a cartoon series, but I find “The Mad Doctor” to be one of Mickey’s most adventurous shorts. While many of the later black and white (and especially the color) films were content to have Mickey put on musical performances or unceremoniously pass the baton on to Donald or Goofy while he drifts off and does nothing, this short sees Mickey closer to being the action-adventurer he was in the newspaper comics, trying to rescue his beloved dog from the crypts of an ancient castle, avoiding monsters all the while.

Of course, it all turns out to be a dream in the end, but that doesn’t make the cartoon any less exciting.

In the four years since “The Skeleton Dance”, Walt Disney’s animators were already showing their rapid improvement, as the skeletons in this short are a bit more detailed and the gags more elaborate (take the scene where the skeleton falls to pieces and reassembles itself). Sadly, it loses some points for recycling animation from the aforementioned “The Skeleton Dance” and, perhaps most obviously, from an impressive moving background sequence showcased in the Silly Symphony “Egyptian Melodies”.

The use of the skeletons in this short is great, though, as they hide in pillars, grandfather clocks, beneath staircases and pretty much everywhere, harassing Mickey at every turn. There’s some Fleischer-esque surreal vibes going on, as doorknobs come to life and swallow Mickey whole or even a sadistic moment where the Mad Doctor torments Pluto by cutting his shadow in two with a pair of scissors.

*The Tell-Tale Heart (UPA, 1953)

(click here for my in-depth review of the short)

UPA’s cartoons were weird, but in a geometric, pop-art kind of way, not so much a genuinely eerie or frightening sort of way.

Except that one time.

You all know Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart” by now, I’m sure. A man is driven to insanity by the milky white eye of the old man he cares for. But after dispatching the old timer, he is haunted by the beating of an unseen heart beneath the floorboards.

I’ve gone on about this one at length in another review, but to encapsulate my thoughts, this is just one of the creepiest, weirdest and most effective horror cartoons ever animated. The art design is fantastic, as the environments and atmosphere become ever more unsettling and abnormal as the narrative progresses and the madman grows more unhinged. The house he lives in comes to life and takes on Dali or Escher-like shapes, defying logic and reality. The narration (by James Mason) grows from soothing to erratic and it sincerely horrifies the audience.

An unparalleled masterpiece of horror animation.

*The Case of the Stuttering Pig (Warner Bros, 1937)

Hard to believe there was a time when perpetual straight-man and stuttering, obese dullard Porky Pig was considered the star character among the Looney Tunes cast, but it’s true! Granted, that was before more exciting personalities like Bugs Bunny had come into being, and once they showed up, Porky was forever relegated to a milquetoast foil for Daffy Duck’s “woo-hooing” nonsense.

But among Porky’s otherwise pretty boring black and white starring shorts, was a pretty hilarious one directed by Frank Tashlin called “The Case of the Stuttering Pig”.

Porky and his five siblings have arrived at the rickety estate of their recently deceased uncle Solomon for the reading of his will. Kindly Lawyer Goodwill relates to them that, should anything happen to them, then he would inherit all their newly acquired property. Of course, Lawyer Goodwill has a bottle of Jekyll-Hyde Juice and, after a quick transformation, proceeds to hunt the pigs down one by one. But savior may come from an unlikely source…

Most of the horror-themed Looney Tunes were never particularly “creepy” in execution; they were far too busy being funny to spend time on any sort of eerie atmosphere. “The Case of the Stuttering Pig”, though, actually pulls off a rather freaky tone amidst its nonstop gags, thanks mostly to the big empty house and the gruesome appearance of Lawyer Goodwill (voiced by Billy Bletcher, better known as Pete from the classic Mickey Mouse shorts).

Still, the best part of the short doesn’t come from anything creepy, but from the totally brilliant, fourth wall-shattering twist ending. I grew up on Ted Turner’s colorized abomination of the short, but I find the original black and white version to be far more appealing. It’s available on the Looney Tunes Golden Collection Vol. 4 if’n yer a big spender.

*Prest-O Change-O (Warner Bros, 1939)

Sometimes it can suck being a public domain cartoon. While you’re widely available to anybody and everybody for free, nobody with the time or money cares about restoring you because they can’t own you. So all you poor little public domain cartoons wind up doomed to color wash-out until you’re entirely pink and hitting $1 DVD buckets with VHS picture quality. Bad VHS picture quality.

Such is the case for “Prest-O Change-O”, a Merrie Melody by Chuck Jones that even features the second appearance of the Bugs Bunny prototype, “Happy Rabbit”. Despite such a historical note, nobody at Warner Bros could give a shit about it since they won’t be making any money off of it. Bummer.

The two curious dogs, on the run from a dog catcher, wind up in the abandoned home of the magician Sham-Fu. Exploring the bizarre home full of disappearing doors and living magic tricks, one pup contends with the effects of a magic wand while another has to put up with an obnoxious rabbit.

It’s funny; the antics in “Prest-O Change-O” are pretty run of the mill for old timey cartoons and hardly anything to write home about, and if the setting were any place else, I don’t think this would be a particularly well-remembered cartoon. However, the weird, dilapidated house of the magician imbues the film with a quality that’s kind of unsettling, at least when you’re a little kid.

I had this short on a tape with a dozen other public domain cartoons and I recall it giving me the absolute creeps when I was little. It had to do with the reality of the house changing, I think; doors vanishing, wall tiles turning into drawers and other weird phenomena like that. And that insane bird in the cuckoo clock (“Its 12 o’clock… Mwahahahahahaaa!”). Again, in any other cartoon such antics would be mundane, but as a kid, it put me on edge.

“The two curious dogs” were actually in a number of Merrie Melodies, though for the life of me I don’t think they ever got proper names and I don’t think they were ever very popular (their series dried up fairly quickly). But while most of their shorts are forgettable, this one isn’t. And it even ends with that obnoxious proto-Bugs getting socked in the face. Thank you.

*Who Killed Who? (MGM, 1943)

I know I must be misremembering things, but I swear I had this cartoon on the same tape as “Prest-O Change-O” and “The Tell-Tale Heart”. Not likely, considering all three were from different studios, but man, if it were true, that would have to be the most messed up tape of cartoons ever.

Tex Avery was pretty much The Man, but he rarely tried his hand at “spooky” themed animation, much to the disappointment of everyone. Still, his one attempt, “Who Killed Who?”, is a glorious send-up of radio mystery dramas and a close contender for my favorite of his shorts (I think “Magical Maestro” wins that battle, though).

After a mysterious murder is committed at the “Gruesome Gables” estate, a detective arrives to solve the case. He chases a hooded fiend around the sprawling and seemingly haunted mansion, overcoming all manner of insane pratfalls along the way.

Like all Tex Avery cartoons, those one blows by at a mile a minute, with basically one gag after another in rapid-fire succession. You can sit down and watch the thing three or four times in a row and laugh at every viewing. Tex Avery cartoons are just that good.

“Who Killed Who?” is packed with all sorts of dark humor (the actual murder, from the killing to the corpse photography, is a riot), but I think the real strength of the short is the sound design. The opening, with the driving rain, screaming woman and overthetop evil laughter as the camera pans through the cobwebbed mansion is great to listen to (and sets up the gag pictured above), while the organ music is downright creepy, being more than just a score but sound effects to accentuate certain gags.

Also, “Who Killed Who?” has the angriest, most-violent Santa Claus (voiced by Avery-himself) this side of “Silent Night, Deadly Night”.

*The Haunted House (Walt Disney, 1929)

Though not my favorite classic Mickey Mouse short (that honor goes to the aforementioned “The Mad Doctor”), my favorite of the original Ub Iwerks-animated shorts is, naturally, “The Haunted House”. Though it rather blatantly recycles some animation from “The Skeleton Dance”, it’s never-the-less a great example of Iwerks’ skill as an animator, drawing the whole thing by himself (he was often clocked-in as animating full cartoons in as little as two weeks!).

It’s a dark and stormy night and poor Mickey is forced to seek refuge in a dilapidated old mansion. Unfortunately for the corporate mascot, the house is populated by a cruel, hooded figure and his army of skeletons. All they want to do is get down with their dead selves and aren’t above forcing Mickey to play the organ for all eternity.

Sadly, like much of Iwerks’ vintage accomplishments, “The Haunted House” has been deemed “unsuitable for modern audiences” by the contemporary Walt Disney Corporation and relegated to “Vault” status. Even its one DVD release that I know of (on Walt Disney Treasure’s Mickey Mouse in Black and White Vol. 2) comes with a mandatory, unskippable disclaimer by Leonard Maltin, apologizing profusely for the short and all others of its ilk as ignorant products of their time.

It’s grand offense? A brief sequence where the lights go out and Mickey screams “Mammy!” (a gag made famous in the 20s by Al Jolson, who performed a song called “Mammy” while wearing black face).

Still, even though Disney is content to sweep much of Iwerks’ contributions under the rug, that doesn’t change the quality of his work in the least. There’s a great moment in the short where the hooded figure slowly encroaches upon the cornered Mickey and (with the audience sharing Mickey’s POV), slowly pulls back his cowl to reveal a chattering skull. It’s very effective use of perspective at a time where animation was pretty content to simply move from the left to the right as though any other dimensions did not exist.

*Cobweb Hotel (Max Fleischer, 1936)

Getting back onto the subject of awesome public domain cartoons that have sadly turned completely pink with age, there’s this Fleischer Bros masterpiece: “The Cobweb Hotel”.

A ravenous spider has a fool-proof plan: open up a hotel for naïve flies! “The Cobweb Hotel” is open for business and very quickly flies begin checking in… but not checking out. A newlywed fly couple soon arrive on the scene and do their best to avoid getting eaten while rescuing the rest of the menu.

While I can no longer appreciate the “color” part of this installment in the “Color Classics” series, I can still appreciate everything else. Though not as elaborate as, say, the Popeye two-reelers, “Cobweb Hotel” still employs some of the Fleischer’s notable innovations in animation, particularly the mixture of live action sets with overlaid animated characters (the opening and ending sequences of the cartoon).

The premise is rather grim and disturbing in its seemingly harmless cartoony sort of way, though some rather freaky imagery slips through, particularly during the opening song by the spider as he shows off all the flies caught in death traps. The spider’s voice is especially well-done, being this gravelly, menacing hiss.

The plot, when you take away the memorably horrific trappings, follows pretty much the same template as most cutesy animal shorts of the day, as a predator attempts to eat one of the meeker animal’s sweethearts, all the animals rally together and the predator is driven away. However, the aforementioned strengths allow it to stand out above the more typical cartoons of its breed.

*Hell’s Bells (Walt Disney, 1929)

This is the third Ub Iwerks cartoon to make my list; the guy sure loved his dead and spooky things.

Down in the pits of Hell, Satan is having a regular ole jamboree! But when he starts feeding his demonic servants to Cerberus for fun, one of his underlings decides to make a break for it. In the end, somebody gets a spanking.

To think this came out the same year as “The Skeleton Dance” and “The Haunted House”. Man, what a statement Walt Disney must have been making back in the 20s to produce three pretty much Satanic and occult cartoons in one year for mass public consumption. And they were all a hit, too!

“Hell’s Bells” is basically the same as any other early, black and white “Silly Symphony”, where it features nothing but little critters dancing goofy dances to xylophone music, but the key difference is that this one takes place in freakin’ Hell. So we get far more imaginative fare than bugs dancing on flower petals or birds fluttering around cherry trees: we get dragon-cows that milk fire and fanged serpents that swallow bats, sprout wings and fly away. So in that regard, I actually find it to be more creative than “The Skeleton Dance” in terms of visuals.

Though “Hell’s Bells” never got a follow-up, the Iwerks-styled grinning demons would return for the more well-known and respected Silly Symphony, “The Goddess of Spring”, where they cavort and caper once again in the realm of Hades.

*Bimbo’s Initiation (Max Fleischer, 1931)

Highly regarded as the best of Fleischer’s pre-Code Betty Boop cartoons, “Bimbo’s Initiation” is pretty much one of the finest examples of surrealist animation ever produced. Hey, the Library of Congress added it to the National Film Registry for “cultural significance” so it must have done something right.

While walking down the street, poor Bimbo is thrown into a deadly maze of tunnels and traps, all at the behest of a cabal of weirdos who insist he must join their secret organization. Bimbo refuses, but perhaps he should reconsider on account of two things: they’ll kill him if he doesn’t join and, hey, this club’s kinda hot…

“Bimbo’s Initiation” is pretty nightmarish and its relevance to horror has already been immortalized in “Twilight Zone: The Movie” (and badly parodied in an ill-conceived green screen segment), but if you haven’t seen the full short then you need to stop whatever you’re doing and hit You Tube this instant.

“Bimbo’s Initiation” is a totally bizarre stream-of-consciousness cartoon as the title character goes from one threatening room in a twisted house of horrors to another, egged on by the organization members the whole while. Fleischer takes great joy in playing with reality (exit doors rolling up like wallpaper to reveal brick walls) and animating the inanimate and making them pretty blood-thirsty… literally (a knife licks its lips at the thought of stabbing Bimbo).

But it’s also a very impressive piece of animation on a technical level, too. Look no further than the scene where Bimbo is “running the gauntlet”, so the speak, all done with moving backgrounds (very hard and time-consuming to animate). The jazzy musical accompaniment makes it especially exciting.

Of course, being a Betty Boop cartoon, she shows up at the end, though still in her early “dog” design that few people remember (she wasn’t always human).

*Magic Mummy (Van Beuren, 1933)

Hey, remember Tom & Jerry? No, not the cat and mouse, but the two humans who starred in a series of shorts between 1931 and 1933?

Yeah, didn’t think so.

While they’ve fallen into the abyss of cartoon obscurity over the years, their shorts are actually rather interesting if derivative of the Fleischer Studios work (apparently, the Van Beuren and Fleischer studios were right across the street from one another and shared all their talent). They starred in a couple “spooky” cartoons, one of which being “Magic Mummy”.

Officers Tom and Jerry respond to a missing mummy report and trail a cloaked, horse-skull-faced creep into the catacombs of a nearby graveyard. The mummy turns out to be a 5,000 year-old flapper girl who proceeds to put on a show for a theater full of skeletons. Then Tom and Jerry show up and ruin everything.

It’s a very music-heavy short, focusing mostly on a pair of songs with the morbid trappings being somewhat nonthreatening. Still, the black-clad skull-faced villain boasts a pretty sweet design and there’s just something about this era of retro, rubber hose-style character animation I can’t take my eyes off of.

*Wot a Night (Van Beuren, 1931)

One more Van Beuren Studios Tom & Jerry short for you; and the better of the two listed, if you ask me. This was actually the first film in the series and perhaps wears its Fleischer-esque nature on its sleeve, reveling in its own morbid bizarreness the way the Betty Boop cartoons often tended to.

Taxi drivers Tom and Jerry take a pair of weirdos home to their castle on a dark and stormy night, only to find themselves trapped in the dungeons below. Tom is terrified of the myriad horrors surrounding them, while Jerry remains unimpressed.

Man, people in the 20s and 30s sure loved their dancing skeleton cartoons. There must be at least five or six of them in this article alone. And yet, I never get tired of dancing skeletons… even when they’re horrible racist stereotypes (you’ll know it when you see it).

Perhaps the best part of this entire short is the ending, where Tom and Jerry find out that they’re also skeletons and go running off waving their noodle arms in the air, looking positively ridiculous as their shirts bob up and down, revealing their exposed ribcages. Ah, the good ole days.

House on Haunted Hill (1959)

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Much like “Night of the Living Dead”, William Castle’s “House on Haunted Hill” is one of those horror movies everyone’s seen thanks to the power of public domain. It always made the rounds during Halloween when I was a kid and became a staple of the holiday television season, much like how those old stop-motion Rankin-Bass specials are a staple of Christmas. It doesn’t get the same amount of play these days as it used to, though I’m sure American Movie Classics or Turner Classic Movies gets some mileage out of it in October. Re-watching it now, though, I don’t find it quite as satisfying as I did when I was little.

Millionaire Frederick Loren (Vincent Price) is throwing a party at the infamous house on Haunted Hill, inviting a slew of strangers to join him. Each partygoer is promised a whopping $10,000 payday, but the catch is that they must stay the entire night in the creepy, haunted mansion. Poor Nora (Carolyn Craig) finds herself trapped between the seemingly unearthly forces of the house and the maniacal plotting of Loren’s greedy wife, Annabelle (Carol Ohmart). Is the house really haunted? By the end of the night, they’ll know for sure.

“House on Haunted Hill” starts out promising-enough, with a great opening credits sequence featuring nothing but a black screen and lots of eerie sounds of the most classic design (rattling chains, howling wind, inhuman laughter, etc). Vincent Price’s narration is great, and his whole performance is, too, and the movie generally wastes no time getting down to ghostly business. Perhaps the best sequence in the entire film happens early on, as Nora encounters a spectral hag in the darkness of the wine cellar.

The problem is that at about the halfway point, the movie takes something of a turn away from the supernatural and toward a typical murder mystery plot as the paranoid partiers try to figure out who offed Annabelle with a hangman’s noose. I think the worst offense of the film is the ending, where every seemingly supernatural event seen during the flick is explained away by strictly earthly means. I’ve seen my fair share of haunted house pictures and read more than enough ghost stories in my lifetime, and I can say that one of my greatest peeves is the “Scooby-Doo” ending, where we find out that nothing otherworldly was going on at all and there’s a reasonable explanation for everything that scared us. “House on Haunted Hill” doesn’t even offer a brief “out” by leaving one event unexplainable and having the characters and audience wonder about it, hackneyed though that tactic may be.

The ending of the film tries to revive that ghostly feeling by way of describing the house as having two more ghosts, but that comes after the point where we learn there were never any ghosts in the house to begin with, so it rubs off as “too little, too late”.

Still, there are quite a few qualities to enjoy about the film, even with the somewhat copout of an ending. As mentioned, Vincent Price’s performance is great as he comes off as both charismatic and menacing, particularly during the scenes where he’s alone with Annabelle. There’s some overacting from the supporting cast, particularly Elisha Cook (who plays ancestral owner of the home and superstitious drunk, Watson Pritchard), but none of it gets too distracting. Before we learn the “twist” ending, many of the ghostly horror effects are executed quite well. The hag in the cellar I already mentioned, but there’s some great moments involving severed heads hidden around the bedrooms, bodies hanging from nooses and a creepy old caretaker lurking behind the curtains.

The ending with the marionette skeleton is a bit goofy, though I suppose from the context of the film it wasn’t meant to look entirely convincing. In fact, for the original theatrical release of the movie, theaters were outfitted with a pulley system that sent a skeleton flying over the audience’s heads at just the right time to freak them out. So with that in mind, the rather clunky-looking skeleton probably had a lot more oomph to it back in the 50s when accompanied by the gimmick effect.

“House on Haunted Hill” is still an enjoyable (and short) Halloween-time treat that’s perfect movie marathon fodder. And if you don’t mind “Scooby-Doo” endings, then you certainly won’t have the same criticisms that I do. It’s very much a classic of late night public access “fright nights” that don’t exist anymore, and the score (consisting of OOOOooooOOOO!) is surprisingly effective. I just don’t care for it as much as I used to.

Grade: B- (as in, “But, what? Did the police just put the murder weapon back in the secret couch compartment when they were done with it or something?”)

Insidious (2011)

2011-04-03T17:53:00.004-04:00

It does my heart good to still be able to go see a horror film in theaters and discover it doesn’t suck. And consider that ecstasy tripled when it turns out to be a haunted house film, too.

James Wan’s “Insidious” strikes that balance between the sincere and the absurd that far too few ghost-centric horror films made in the past trio of decades have been able to accomplish. “Insidious” marries the traditional/classic approach to haunted house aesthetics (creaky floors, shadowy figures, faces spying on you from the corner of your eye, voices in other rooms) with the more modern “blockbuster” techniques many find loathsome (special effects galore, elaborate monsters, overblown action/adventure concepts that destroy the “reality” of the film). However, where flicks like “White Noise” and “The Grudge” botch the delivery, “Insidious” harmonizes them, taking the scares far and away from the realm of relatability while retaining enough of the “mysterious dread” factor that the audience is treated to the best of both worlds.

When Josh (Patrick Wilson) and Renai Lambert (Rose Byrne) move into their new home, things immediately take a turn for the worse, as bizarre happenings destroy their suburban paradise. Ultimately, their eldest son, Dalton (Ty Simpkins) falls into a strange coma the doctors can’t explain. The Lamberts attempt to move to a new home, but wherever they go, the malevolent forces follow them. Eventually, they learn that it is their son who is attracting these phantoms and rescuing him from the clutches of the most violent manifestations may be a costly endeavor.

“Insidious” spends some time building itself up, yet none of that time ever feels “wasted”. The build-up is all in the classical haunted house scare tactics, as Renai hears a demonic voice chattering over her baby monitor or, in one of the best instances of subtle terror, ever-so-briefly glimpses a face shrouded in the curtains by the baby’s crib. These sorts of scares would have been the “centerpieces” to more antiquated haunted house pictures (think the “get out!” scene from “The Amityville Horror”), but are offered up here in rapid succession, with the spirits growing ever more daring and violent.

James Wan really flexes his muscles with these more subtle and traditional scares (the figure walking back and forth by the window was a favorite of mine), proving himself truly suited for the more down-to-Earth variety of haunted house films.

But things don’t stay subtle for long, and in modern day ghost pictures, this tends to be where the director either hooks the audience or loses them entirely. A pair of comedic (but not too comedic) paranormal investigators are called in alongside a psychic (and friend of the family’s) to get to the bottom of things. The film revs up at this point, as the ghostly phenomena escalates from disembodied voices and faces at the window to full-blown, monstrous encounters. Wan wisely eases the audience into this new level of tension (the hide-n-seek sequence with the little boy, for example), transitioning from “realistic” haunting gags to “Hollywood” territory far less abruptly than many classics we revere to this day (I’m looking at you, “Poltergeist”). By the time we finally see “the demon” (J. LaRose), his presence has been built-up considerably through glimpses and descriptions from characters who saw him, to say nothing of the genuinely spooky crayon drawings.

SPOILERS FROM THIS POINT ON.

The final act of the film takes its cues from that most revered of Twilight Zone episode, “Little Girl Lost”, as the audience is taken into a shadowy realm called “the Further”, where Dalton’s spirit is being held. This definitely takes the film out of the sincerity of traditional haunted house flicks and into the universe of movie magic, but the effect is chilling all the same, remaining subtle and terrifying in its brand of horror and not feeling out of place compared to the atmosphere we’d been enjoying beforehand.

The Further is a dark and eerie mirror dimension of our world, but populated by lost souls of varying generosity and disposition. As Josh traverses the warped corridors of his old home, it’s like walking through a Halloween-time carnival funhouse. He stumbles upon scene after scene of ghoulish mayhem, some already in progress, and you’re never quite sure if the spirits trapped in these infernal loops can see him or not. The sequence is dark and foggy, with the majority of light emanating from his lantern, so we’re often spared some of the more horrible images, letting our imaginations finish the jobs for us. This is what I mean by the film being “outrageous” and “subtle” at the same time.

“Insidious” is not without its occasional problems, though, which I’d be disingenuous not to mention. Even with a face that may remind you too much of Darth Maul, the demon looks superb when we glimpse him in piecemeal form (cloven hooves, clawed fingers, whipping tail, creepy face). But when the film gives us are brief full-on look at the very end, brought to life via CGI, it falls a bit short. It isn’t a terrible moment, but I felt the creature would have remained more terrifying to the audience if kept shrouded. The final sequence of the film, also, tries to wring one last scare out of the already exhausted viewer and I felt it was just a bit too much. The climax of the film was tense and suspenseful enough, so the “twist ending” felt badly tacked-on just so the flick could have some extra zing to go out on (when it really didn’t need any more).

Also, while I felt the transition from “traditional” to “Hollywood” was well executed, I’ve spoken with others who felt strongly otherwise, so I suppose your mileage in that department may vary.

But even with those missteps accounted for, “Insidious” still falls no shorter than “excellent”, in my opinion. Wan takes the contemporary Hollywood mandate of “overblown special effects and action” that has all but destroyed the haunted house subgenre and shows everyone how you can make lemonade out of it. The score by Joseph Bishara is fantastic, complimenting the scenes perfectly; knowing when to keep silent and when to accentuate the suspense with what have got to be some of the most haunting violins I’ve ever heard.

“Insidious” seems to have chosen a rather poor time to hit theaters (a ghost story in March/April? Really?), but hopefully that won’t keep it from finding its audience either via the big screen of the DVD player. Of the three films by Wan that I’ve seen (the other two being “Saw” and “Dead Silence”) I would rate this as my favorite. I think the guy is definitely going to be recalled years from now as one of the greats of the genre, and hey, he’s already made more good horror films than Wes Craven.

Grade: A- (as in, “And while the use of old timey 30s music to create creepy atmosphere gave me painful flashbacks to ‘Jeepers Creepers’, I remembered that ‘The Evil Dead’ did it too, so it’s all good”.)

The Tell-Tale Heart (1953)

2011-03-31T14:03:00.007-04:00

As an animation enthusiast as much as a horror one, I have choice words for UPA. I understand how terribly popular they were fifty years ago, and how daring and unusual their pared-down visual style was at the time, but I’ve always felt that their trend toward more “economical” animation that was picked up by other studios of the era, Walt Disney in particular, did more to damage the industry and deprive it of its grandeur and spectacle than anything truly of merit.

But while their Mr. Magoo cartoons were fun and they produced a number of genuinely great cartoons (such as “The Unicorn in the Garden”), they did come out with one animated short so starkly different from anything else in their library that I almost feel that the “cost effective” blight UPA inflicted upon the animation industry of half a century ago was entirely worth it.

Because they produced an adaptation of Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart” which to this day has not been equaled.

You know the drill: The caretaker of an elderly man in a large, empty house is driven to insanity by the old timer’s milky white eye. After disposing of his victim and stashing the body beneath the floorboards, he is summarily driven to all-consuming madness by the sound of a still-beating heart.

I’m not sure how my mom got a hold of this cartoon when I was a kid, but it was copied onto a Beta cassette alongside such inoffensive shorts as Droopy and Tom & Jerry. I watched the short repeatedly as a child and it absolutely freaked me the Hell out.

A surrealistic take on Poe’s story, the entire cartoon is presented from the point of view of the mad narrator (voiced by James Mason). You see everything as he does and the world of this cartoon is asymmetrical, dark, bizarre and utterly nightmarish. “The Tell-Tale Heart” utilizes UPA’s “limited animation” technique, but implements the lack of movement and dimensions in a far more creative and atmospheric manner than their typical children’s material. There’s a lot of camera work in this cartoon, as we pan across paintings of the vast and imposing old mansion (as the audience, we’ve been implanted inside the madman’s body, after all) and they use several lighting techniques to mask portions of the background paintings, revealing them slowly or suddenly depending on the narrative flow, to create a terrifying illusion of movement and horror even when, well, nothing is actually being animated.

The paintings that comprise the bulk of this cartoon are like something Stephen Gammell would draw if he worked in color, with a healthy dose of M.C. Escher and Salvador Dali thrown in for good measure. As the film progresses and the narrator becomes more dangerously insane, the house-itself grows and changes in terrifying ways, culled from the darkest corners of some sick architect’s imagination. Things briefly cool down when the police show up and the narrator is forced to put on the façade of sanity, but we all know how that turns out, I’m sure.

But if I’m beginning to sound like this is a very “static” piece of animation, I don’t mean to put it that way. Yes, UPA liked to work with limited animation and yes there are a lot of environmental pans, but the real animation doesn’t come from character movement (though what little we see of characters being animated is surprisingly impressive). There are lots of unnerving overlays of things such as veins, webbing out across the frame, or the slow lengthening of the old man’s shadow creeping across the dusty floor, or the pulsing beat of some wet organ flashing momentarily across the screen. For an animated film with only a limited amount of frame-to-frame animation in it, Director Ted Parmelee ingeniously gets the most out of what he can and the result is something unique and darkly beautiful.

“The Tell-Tale Heart” was considered so abnormal and disturbing in its day that it was the first cartoon to ever be rated X in Great Britain. Controversies not-withstanding, it still managed to obtain an Oscar nomination in the States, though it lost out to Walt Disney’s “Toot, Whistle, Plunk and Boom” (which, ironically, was animated in Disney’s faux-UPA style).

Availability-wise, I guess it was on VHS back in the 90s if I somehow ended up with it when I was a kid. So far as DVD is concerned, I understand that it’s a bonus feature on the “Hellboy” set, though the downside is that you have to own “Hellboy” in order to get it. But for the cheap, there’s always You Tube!

Anyhow, for fans of unique horror animation or just surrealist horror in general, there’s really no competing with “The Tell-Tale Heart”. I’m rather disappointed that it didn’t inspire a trend toward darker horror-themed animation back in the 50s, because who knows what kind of cool cinema might have been produced in the near-sixty years since its premier had it gotten the ball rolling. Regardless, “The Tell-Tale Heart” is a very special film and a very good horror flick, cartoon or not.

Grade: A (as in, “And that is why I will never own a bed sheet with black and yellow checkers on it”)

Hellraiser (Boom! Studios) Prelude and #1

2011-03-27T21:21:00.005-04:00

Publication date: March, 2011

Written by: Clive Barker and Christopher Monfette
Art by: Leonardo Manco
Colors by: Charlie Kirchoff
Lettering by: Travis Lanham
Edited by: Ian Brill

“At the Tolling of a Bell” and “Pursuit of the Flesh, Part One”

When it comes to the “Hellraiser” comic book series, I’d qualify myself as something of a fan. Although I didn’t collect the series during it's original publication, I devoured all three “Best of” volumes released by Checker Publishing and fully intend to digest the series a second time when Boom! Studios release their “Hellraiser Masterpieces” collections (and hopefully these will be in proper chronological order and uncut, unlike Checker’s “Best of” series).

While the “Hellraiser” film series was deviating into ever-increasing (and ever-obnoxious) “epic” territory, ultimately culminating in the disastrous “Hellraiser: Bloodline”, the comic book series was behaving in a manner truer to the attitude and atmosphere of the first “Hellraiser” feature film. The comics were often times very personal, focusing on the Hells and horrors of a single individual. Certainly, more “epic” tales weren’t unfamiliar to the title, but I tended to find those to be the worst of the book’s output (more on that in specifics, later). It was the low-key stories revolving around deranged or foolish individuals that piqued my interests, with Pinhead and the more recognizable Cenobites often only appearing for the briefest of sequences (rewatch the original “Hellraiser” and you’ll find he’s hardly in the thing). My affection for the original “Hellraiser” comic series and its “tales of terror” approach is one of the reasons why I adored the first three straight-to-video “Hellraiser” films, while those familiar only with the theatrical flicks often hated them.

Well, all good things have a way of coming back and Boom! Studios has now revived the “Hellraiser” comic book series for the enjoyment of sickos and goth kids everywhere.

Preceding Hellraiser #1 was an 8-page "Prelude to Hellraiser" comic book that Boom! published exclusively online, encouraging folks to download it and share it with everyone they can. You can find the thing here.

“At the Tolling of a Bell” tells the story of the last man to be executed at a decommissioned and virtually empty correctional facility. However, things aren’t what they seem, as the Catholic priest overseeing the execution offers the condemned one last chance at salvation should he solve a familiar puzzle box before the electric chair fries his brains. He solves it, but the priest finds that Pinhead isn’t interested in dragging the condemned man to Hell; he’d much prefer a member of the cloth.

It’s a fairly typical tale and I’m not sure exactly how it acts as a prelude to Hellraiser #1, as the stories don’t appear to interconnect in any way (though that may change down the road). Rather, it’s just an original one-shot story by the same writer and artist team as the Hellraiser ongoing and not particularly necessary for understanding the first issue. Barker and Monfette certainly have Pinhead’s dialogue down pat, and though he’s not over-the-top, his dry and dark humor is as ever present as always. Manco’s art is grimy and gory and wonderful, though he suffers from some poor layout on page 5. One panel Pinhead is sitting in a jail cell, the next sees the faceless priest running in terror toward him, the next has him running in terror away from him. It’s a tad confusing:

But the real discussion here is about the first issue proper, “Pursuit of the Flesh, Part One”. A mysterious farmer is capturing women and forcing them to open the Lament Configuration, where they’re summarily torn asunder by Pinhead and the Cenobites. Alas, Pinhead is bored with his job and, just like Jack Skellington, he dreams of something more. But instead of journeying to Christmas Town, he journeys to a pipe organ made from tortured souls to convene with his predecessor. Pinhead bargains for the opportunity to reclaim his humanity and seek the salvations of Heaven, though should he fail, he’ll take his predecessor’s place in an eternity of the fiercest torments their Lord Leviathan can imagine.

Elsewhere, Kirsty Cotton bids farewell to her lover and possible fiancé, Edgar, as he leaves to go on a scholarly tour. As Kirsty sees him off, a farmer drops a note in her mailbox labeled “Harrowers”.

The big news surrounding Boom! Studios’ “Hellraiser” series is that Clive Barker is back in the saddle after a considerably extended period away from the franchise. I get the feeling that I was the only person who considered this a potential problem.

You see, Barker only wrote one story for the original “Hellraiser” comic book series, a two-parter called “The Harrowers” (illustrated by none other than Alex Ross) and, believe it or not, it was one of the absolute worst “Hellraiser” stories I have ever read and a considerable low point for the entire series. The story sees a group of people gaining super powers from Leviathan’s arch nemesis, “Morte’ Mame’”; super powers such as the ability to spit acid or the ever-present comradery of a wisecracking cherub with poisonous farts (actual dialogue: “It’s a GAS!”). Next, they decide to form a superhero team called “The Harrowers” to take the fight back to Pinhead and the Cenobites (who are portrayed as supervillains). They ride their motorcycles into Hell, kill Pinhead’s girlfriend (seriously) and escape after rescuing one of their captured teammates, with Pinhead shaking his fist into the sky and swearing vengeance.

It. Was. TERRIBLE.

So, after reading that, I was left with the impression that although he was the man who had created the series, “Hellraiser” was better off without the input of Clive Barker, talented as he may be.

“Pursuit of the Flesh, Part One”, however, left me impressed, excited and worried all at once.

Barker seems to be incorporating every "Hellraiser" story into this continuity, opting not to pick and choose what he prefers or ignore what wasn’t penned by himself; a decision I found relieving (Kirsty references her previous, failed marriage from “Hellraiser: Hellseeker”, for example). It would have been easy for Barker to have simply decided “everything not written by me doesn’t count”, so I found it very impressive that he chose to respect the work of those who kept the torch lit in his absence. A classy move, in my opinion.

But, at the same time, he extensively references his previous tale, “The Harrowers”, and that frightens me more than the sight of hooks tearing out flesh ever could. Pinhead speaks cryptically of a group waging war on Leviathan and, as mentioned earlier, Kirsty receives a letter labeled “Harrowers”. I suppose it’s only natural for Barker to want to continue the storyline he began years ago (there was a “Harrowers” miniseries written by someone else, though I'll be damned if I'm gonna read it), but the entire concept of that storyline was so fundamentally flawed and obnoxious that I dread to see it revisited. The last thing “Hellraiser” needs is farting cherubs making poop jokes.

The highlight of this story is the characterization of Pinhead. He’s torn off so many faces during his career that he’s simply sick of the whole ordeal and wants to try something else. “Hellraiser III: Hell on Earth” was a pretty heinous film, but it’s one redeeming factor came in the character work provided for Pinhead. Hopefully, this ongoing series will expand on Pinhead’s character, though without being “heinous” in the process.

Oddly, the Female Cenobite and Chatterer are alive again, which somewhat disappointed me, at least in terms of continuity. The film series had been remarkably good about keeping the “classic Cenobites” dead after their showdown with Channard in “Hellbound: Hellraiser II”. Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. Chatterer returned in “Hellraiser: Deader”, though folks tended to write that off as a different Chatterer. Guess not. Even stranger, Pinhead and the Female Cenobite appear to have some sort of an affection for one another (I guess Pinhead got over his dead girlfriend from “The Harrowers”?). Still, discontinuity or not, it was nice seeing the familiar faces again, so I really can’t put forth too much of a fuss.

Overall, the new “Hellraiser” comic book from Boom! Studios leaves me with a few worries coming from experience, but makes up for them with some superb artwork by Leonardo Manco (though Charlie Kirchoff’s coloring should not be understated, either), soothing those notions fairly quickly. To the uninitiated, familiar only with a handful of the earliest movies in the series, you may be confused by a few of the references to the later films and the comic books, but Barker and Monfette are careful to implement them in a way that keeps the narrative accessible (at least for now). And while I hated the Harrowers as characters back in the day, I’ll give Barker the benefit of the doubt and hope that if he does indeed choose to revive them, it’ll be in a way that makes them more palatable than before.

Grade: B+ (as in, “But Kirsty moved back into that fucking house? She almost deserves what’s coming to her…”)

The Killing of an Egg (1977)

2011-03-26T12:36:00.005-04:00

Who remembers Nickelodeon, and I’m talking oooooold skool Nickelodeon? Well, way back in the day, when they were producing very little original content and relying heavily on imported shows from Europe and Japan, Nick tended to fill-out the time in-between programs with whatever bizarre animated shorts they could get their mitts on. You know, like the one about the housecats walking around their empty home and messing with stuff, or the whiney little girl with body issues or that damn one with the sleeping dog that You Tube assures me only lasted two minutes but when I was six I swear to God that thing lasted half an hour!?

Well, among them was this insane animated short by Paul Driessen, “The Killing of an Egg”.

After praying, a man begins his breakfast: a softboiled egg. However, every time he taps the egg, he hears a voice yelling at him from within. “Yes?” “Who is it?” The more he crushes the egg, the more frightened the voice becomes. “Hey!” “Stop that!” “No!” Eventually, he demolishes the egg and silences the eerie voice. Suddenly, he hears a tapping outside his home. “Yes?” “Who is it?” Finally, some unknown force begins crushing the walls in on him. “Hey!” “Stop that!” “No!” Then he dies horribly.

Okay, okay, so maybe “The Killing of an Egg” doesn’t qualify as a horror film, but it is certainly a weird film and that’s close-enough for me.

For a two-minute piece, “The Killing of an Egg” seems strangely high-concept. The man (drawn to resemble a yolk) is clearly killing himself, yet simultaneously existing inside of and outside of his own egg at the same time and at different times. An episode of “Futurama” ended with a somewhat similar concept, where the Professor traps their entire universe inside a cardboard box, which he proceeds to hold in his hands (and every time he shakes it, everything around them shakes, too). Paul Driessen did it first, guys.

Going back to when I was a kid, I remember the short vividly, not only because Nickelodeon played it over and over and over again, but because it was somewhat disturbing and frightening and those are exactly the sorts of things I loved as a kid (and as an adult). I remember being freaked out by two scenes; firstly, the part where the man hears the tapping and goes to open his door, only to be greeted by darkness, driving rain and howling wind. Then, of course, the final scene, of the walls caving in on him and crushing him to death.

I can’t recall if I really “got” the cartoon as a kid; I think I rationalized it as the man killing the person living in the egg so some force came along and killed him in return. But that was so long ago, I really can’t remember for certain.

“The Killing of an Egg” is currently available on a DVD called “The Dutch Films of Paul Driessen”, though I don’t know for sure if that’s Region 1 or not. His films are all excellent and one was even nominated for an Oscar some while back. But if all you care about is the egg, then stick with You Tube.

Grade: A (as in, “And try to imagine how horrifying this cartoon would be if the dude ate his eggs scrambled…”)

The Amityville Horror (1979)

2011-03-19T22:52:00.005-04:00

1998. Back when all the other kids were going nuts about… um… Furbies and the Backstreet Boys (?), I was obsessed with the Amityville murders and subsequent haunting. I was in middle school and had just seen the movie for the first time, igniting a compulsive interest in the history behind the story. 1998 also happened to be the year when the internet was really taking hold in my family and our computer labs at school had finally been outfitted with net access, so for the first time ever I got to do comprehensive research on something via the World Wide Web, as well as scouring libraries for scant paragraphs of info the old fashioned way.

Sure, later I found out that the entire “Amityville Horror” was nothing more than a fabricated publicity stunt on the part of the Lutz family as a means to sell a book and feature film rights, but that doesn’t make Stuart Rosenberg’s 1979 flick any less awesome.

George (James Brolin) and Kathy Lutz (Margot Kidder) have just moved into their new house on 112 Ocean Avenue in Amityville, New York, only a year after Ronald Defeo brutally murdered his entire family in a supposed act of supernatural possession. That sort of thing would normally set off some warning alarms in you or I, but not them. Suddenly, and totally out of the blue, the Lutz family find themselves besieged by paranormal phenomena of the increasingly violent kind. Their daughter, Amy (Natasha Ryan) has befriended a phantom swine named Jody while George, growing increasingly more detached and irritable, has taken to chopping wood day and night among other totally wholesome and not-at-all-psychotic pastimes. Less than a month later, the Lutz family ditches the house (and makes a tidy profit on book sales).

I didn’t read Jay Anson’s book, “The Amityville Horror” until high school, mostly because finding a library that carried the thing was a total pain in the ass. Still, it provided me with the most enjoyable book report I ever had to write, even if I did come to the conclusion that the film was better.

The book is perfectly fine, even if it stretches the limits of “true story”, though I found that the more conservative and less over-the-top nature of Stuart Rosenberg’s movie sold the “realistic” haunting angle a bit better. The book features some ludicrous scenes, particularly near the end, where Jody the Pig dances a fox trot on George’s chest while he’s in bed or a scene where a hooded figure menaces the family from the top of the staircase (to say nothing of the chapter where the walls ooze green slime that the Lutz’s brilliantly scoop up and dump in the river instead of saving for scientific analysis). The film version of “The Amityville Horror” may have its moments of extremity, but never to that sort of extent (giant window-pig not-withstanding).

Stuart Rosenberg is perhaps best known for his films “Cool Hand Luke” and “Voyage of the Damned” among others, though for a guy not recognized as a “horror movie director”, he sure knocked this thing out of the park. Rosenberg gets the most out of the house’s notorious exterior (an exterior which, as you may or may not know, has since been remodeled to the point of being unrecognizable, dammit), focusing heavily on the house’s “angry eyes”. Even though the movie was filmed in a house remodeled to resemble the original location and not the original house-itself (as commonly misconceived), there’s still a certain atmosphere of sincerity present in the film that gives it an extra sense of weight and eeriness. Like all good haunted house pictures, it is important to try and make the house-itself feel like its own character, and when a house comes prebuilt with a friggin’ face on one side, than half the job is already done for you.

But Rosenberg employs a number of effects, some of which predate more notable uses within other horror films. Near the end of the film, as the Lutzes are escaping the house, he utilizes a roaming perspective shot complete with its own unearthly roar not at all dissimilar to Sam Raimi’s use of the technique in “The Evil Dead”. The beginning of the film when the Lutzes are touring the house seems especially ahead of its time, as Rosenberg resorts to rapid jump cuts between present and past; each time the Lutzes open the door to one of the rooms a murder took place in, we are immediately whisked back to the night Defeo shotgunned his family to death. And though it’s of a much lesser note, the glowing red eyes startling Margot Kidder from beyond the window was totally ganked by “Critters”.

Perhaps Rosenberg’s best technique in “The Amityville Horror”, however, is his strategic balance of score and silence, two things that modern day horror films have sadly come to neglect. Lalo Schifrin’s main theme is hauntingly beautiful and one of the best in horror cinema, if you ask me. But Rosenberg is careful not to overuse it and quite often subjects the audience to complete and absolute silence, forgoing even ambient noise. It takes you off guard and helps to make the highlighted noise all the more startling and frightening when it strikes. The infamous “GET OUT!” scene is a classic for a reason.

If there’s any criticism to sling in the film’s direction, I suppose it’s that at two hours, it comes off as a bit overlong; especially so if you factor in the subplot with the police sergeant, which proceeds to go positively nowhere and produces no closure or results. His scenes could have been removed entirely with no ill effect on the film whatsoever. The constant battering of Father Delaney (Rod Steiger) almost comes off as comical after a point, as the poor guy pretty much becomes a punching bag for the spirits of the house.

James Brolin and Margot Kidder are the stars of the show and they carry the film remarkably well. I always found Margot Kidder’s more humor-infused characters, such as Lois Lane in the “Superman” films or whatsherface from “Black Christmas” to be annoying, so her portrayal of a distressed housewife seemed to suit her skills much better. James Brolin, though, is something of a show-stealer and a number of people I’ve talked to found him more frightening than the ghosts. He plays George Lutz as a large, strong and serious step-father who begins the film as being irritable and ends it with being hostile. While “The Shining” featured a similar possessed father character in Jack Nicholson, I always found ole Jack played the role up too much and too far (though in his own enjoyable way that suited “The Shining”). James Brolin, as I’ve learned from many a discussion, plays the “scary step-dad” a little too well, often hitting too close to home for some viewers. I’m relieved to say that my dad never came at me with an axe, though I’ll admit that there’s definitely a genuine and realistic aura of menace to George Lutz that really speaks to Brolin’s strengths as an actor.

“The Amityville Horror” went on to spawn a slew of wretched sequels, both theatrical and straight to video, as well as the ultimate insult: a 2005 remake starring Ryan Reynolds. Regardless, the original remains one of the best haunted house films of all time, with a strong cast, memorable music and a director of class who knew exactly what he was doing.

Grade: A (“Alas, you Catholics may be disappointed that the forces of Evil totally wreck Jesus all throughout this movie. Amityville has the J-Man woefully outmatched in this flick”.)

Antichrist (2009)

2011-03-15T21:52:00.003-04:00

When it comes to “arthouse” films, I tend to eschew them, as the “independent” set more often than not churn out cinema just as manufactured and identity-free as any of the Hollywood blockbusters the beret-wearing public so righteously turn their noses up at. Sure, the tropes and trends aren’t the same as your average John Woo or McG popcorn flick, but they’re all there if you’ve trained yourself to notice them, thus scarring forever your ability to take the next “visionary masterpiece” to rock the Cannes Film Festival seriously.

The point I’m trying to make here is that Lars von Trier’s “Antichrist” is pretty much full of itself. Or full of shit. We’re basically talking about the same thing either way.

After the tragic death of their infant child, a grieving father played by Willem Dafoe, and identified only as “he”, joins his distraught wife played by Charlotte Gainsbourg, identified only as “she” (you can already tell what kinda film this is gonna be, can’t you?) and retreats to a cabin deep in the wilderness to work through their angst. A foreboding and nigh-supernatural atmosphere envelops them, as “she” proceeds to go positively bananas and “he” finds his life falling into considerable jeopardy.

Let’s get things started. The opening pre-credits sequence for “Antichrist” feels like every art school student film ever made. Opera music? Check. Black and white? Check. Slow motion? Check. Snowing outside? Check. Avant garde genitalia? Check. It essentially sets the tone for the entire film; a pretentious sack of drivel, delusional in its own psychological depth while in reality doing nothing but stringing together cliché after cliché to the ooohing and aaahing of no one but the Criterion Collection.

The prologue gets the back story out of the way, showing us the tragic death of their child, which is a striking visual despite the presentation boiling down to nothing but a duplicate of Jay Sherman’s student film from “The Critic”. This is actually where “Antichrist” improves, as once the nonsequitor of a credit sequence is out of the way, the movie takes its head out of its own ass and starts feeding us story in a manner more digestible.

“He” is a doctor with a bit too much of a superiority complex, thinking that he alone can cure his wife’s depression, thus throwing caution to the wind and forcing his wife to take a trip to the last place she was alone with their baby: a cabin in the woods. This is where the film excels in atmosphere while simultaneously decaying in the coherency department.

To lay on the positive commentary first, the atmosphere in “Antichrist” is superb, relying heavily on discomforting ambient sound (particularly a constant hail of acorns on the cabin roof) and crafting an overall sense of isolation that few movies can equal. The supernatural elements are sparse and often times pointless nonsense (a talking fox, for instance), though certain visuals are freaky-enough to make you lean away from your television set (the fawn with the still-birth comes to mind).

“Antichrist” is very well-acted (relying exclusively on the “two-man show” nature means it’d have to be), but the problem with the characters isn’t in the casting. No, Willem Dafoe plays the character of “he” with a certain smarmy, “I’m always right, you’re always wrong” attitude that makes you want to hate him, but with enough of a touch of genuine concern that you can’t fault him too much for his rather ill-plotted rehabilitation methods. Charlotte Gainsbourg’s “she” is just cuh-ray-zee and may test your patience at times, but Gainsbourg really sells the part and when “she” finally snaps, the character becomes sincerely frightening and threatening.

But therein lays the problem. “Antichrist” is touted (at least on the DVD box) as a “battle of the sexes”, but when it comes to who it’s tempting the audience to root for, the end result is a fairly lopsided portrayal. “He” may be something of a dick, but he means well. “She” is just straight-up bonkers and quickly becomes the clear-cut “villain” of the picture. When the theme of your film lingers on a “battle of the sexes”, that seems like a fairly poor call of judgment when you’ve already designated the characters as “good” and “evil”, as that just means the audience is going to associate those traits with the gender you’ve assigned them to. In this case: men are good (if conceited douches) and women are evil (or perhaps “violently insane with grief” would do better).

And this isn’t just some misogynistic misinterpretation on my part, either, and here’s where we tarry into SPOILER country, so back off if you don’t want to have anything ruined for you.

As the film progresses, we find out that “she” originally journeyed to the cabin with their son to research her thesis about how women have been oppressed and branded as “evil” by male authorities over the centuries. While doing said research, she comes to the conclusion that women actually are evil and, in the midst of self-loathing, decides to succumb to the part. First, she physically abuses their son in secret and then, we find out, that she was responsible for the child’s seemingly “accidental” death. Suddenly, Willem Dafoe’s “know-it-all” behavior pales in comparison. “She” proceeds to go absolutely crazy (er, crazier), beating her husband senseless, heel-stomping his penis, jerking it off until it comes blood, then drills a hole through his leg and attaches a rusty chain and anchor to him. The “self-loathing” comes in when she takes a pair of scissors and cuts off… I’ll just let you find out.

What we’re left with is a very unusual “lesson” that I just don’t think I understood correctly because WHAT!?

The epilogue of the film doesn’t help clarify matters any, as it’s rendered in that same “student film” quality as the prologue and does it’s level best to be as befuddling as possible. At the end of the day, what “Antichrist” seems to want to tell me is that “women are evil and you should hit them”.

That… That can’t be right.

Looking over my review, I can clearly see that I’m very cynical, which may have colored my viewing experience in a rather poor light. “Pretentious arthouse cinema” happens to be a pet peeve of mine, and while I still believe I’ve been able to effectively articulate my issues with the film and feel comfortable in my evaluation, well, I can’t help but concede that I may have gone into the film with a preconceived negative disposition. Regardless, while “Antichrist” excels in atmosphere and casting, von Trier mixes in far too many hackneyed tropes of the arthouse for my tastes which utterly comes at the expense of the film’s theme and, well, point, as the entire flick winds up feeling half-baked.

Grade: D- (as in, “Dudes, if you’re married: Hide the scissors. Trust me”)

Cronos (1993)

2011-01-09T11:35:00.003-05:00

Ahh, the Criterion Collection. They’ll release a hundred consecutive installments of obscure arthouse and foreign films to solidify their reputation and credibility as an “upscale” distributor of fine cinema and then BAM! Michael Bay’s “Armageddon”.

Not that cinematic masterpieces such as “RoboCop” don’t deserve to be held on the same jewel-encrusted pedestal as, say, “Seven Samurai” (and I’m not even being sarcastic, here), but the Criterion Collection does seem to be all over the place in terms of what fits their, uh, criteria.

On that note, we have Guillermo del Toro’s debut feature film, the 1993 horror flick called “Cronos” (and #551 in the Criterion Collection). The film-itself is a fairly bland piece of entertainment; an outer shell of character and plot clichés with a warm and gooey melodrama at its center (and also nougat). The film seems to have warranted inclusion in such a prestigious library due to the glimpses of potential it displays from a once bright-eyed nobody who is now an industry superstar. But while spotting all the “del Toro-isms” can be fun, “Cronos” is ultimately a pretty humdrum flick.

Down Mexico way, the kindly old curio shop owner, Jesus Gris (Frederico Luppi), has come into possession of an ancient alchemic device capable of granting immortality… at a tremendous price. Jesus’s brief return to youthful glory is tragically cut short by the drug-like addiction to the device’s power and its loathesome side effects. His worries are further compounded when he runs afoul of the villainous millionaire, De La Guardia (Claudio Brook) and his scheming nephew, Angel (Ron Perlman), who will stop at nothing to obtain the device.

The story in "Cronos", if that synopsis didn’t convey it to you already, is pretty lackluster and could very easily be confused with the plot of any Saturday morning cartoon or the most uninspired of comic books: An ordinary man stumbles across a machine that grants him super powers, an evil corporate businessman wants to get his hands on it and the two wage war against one another. Jeez, where have I heard that before?

The villains are probably the worst aspect of the film, which is a hard thing for me to type considering one of them is played by Ron Perlman. De La Guardia is as empty as a husk can be; he’s old and dying, doesn’t want to go so he uses his evil money from his evil business to make evil trouble for the kindly Jesus. Perlman’s character, Angel, fairs only slightly better. His character quirks make him likeable, as he randomly asks his victims for advice on his impending nose-job, or proceeds to flip-flop between getting soused with them and beating them to death. Unfortunately, even Perlman’s skills as a renowned character actor can’t do much with what he’s given to work with. Near the end, when he believes his uncle to be dead, he even proceeds to dance a jig and scream, “At last! It’s mine! Alllllll miiiiiiine!” (in regards to De La Guardia’s fortune). It’s sort of embarrassing to watch.

But the real meat of the film comes not from the villains, but from poor Jesus and his nigh-mute granddaughter, Mercedes (Margarita Isabel). Poor Mercedes stands by helplessly (and silently), watching her loving grandfather slowly devolve into a vampiric monster at the claws of the machine. She keeps him human throughout the film and, even though she scarcely utters a sound, her performance is very convincing and warming; her inherent cuteness and innocence creating a nice juxtaposition with her grandfather’s progressively more monstrous appearance.

Jesus’s gradual decay, while full of pathos and tragedy, recalls memories of David Cronenberg’s “The Fly” perhaps a bit too much for comfort. His initially joyous reaction to a device that he thinks benefits his health, followed quickly by a horrific downward spiral into monstrosity, bears more than a passing resemblance to Jeff Goldblum’s predicament. The slow decay of his humanity isn’t nearly as gross as that other insect-themed movie, but the parallels are all there and hard not to notice.

Guillermo del Toro’s unmistakable style bleeds through in “Cronos”, though it isn’t as elaborate and overbearing as in his more recent and well-known offerings, such as “Hellboy” and “Pan’s Labyrinth”. Still, the Italian horror-derived visual elements are all there in the lighting and off-kilter camerawork. Del Toro’s more nightmarish imagery seeps through in the form of the ever-mutating Jesus, but really pops out when the camera takes us inside the Cronos device; through the grinding gears, ruby-red glass and ultimately ending at the stinger of some humongous and disgusting insect, injecting its warping venom through tubes and needles. It’s definitely more subdued in the visuals than del Toro’s recent epics, but that’s sort of the charm, too, as you get to see what the man’s capable of without dump truck’s of money getting his back.

The Criterion Collection DVD comes packed with bonus features, something that finally makes the Criterion Collection worth the absurd MSRP stamped on the package (recall the early years of the series, when you were paying $39.99 a disk and were lucky if you got a still gallery). The best of the bonus features is a 1987 short film del Toro directed, “Geometria”, which is horrifying, ridiculous and very funny. I, uh, sort of liked it better than the feature film. Sorry, del Toro.

While I seem to be hitting “Cronos” pretty hard, the movie does have its upsides in terms of visual elements and is generally well-acted on part of the protagonists. It’s just a pretty cut-and-dry, forgettable horror film with ideas that are all mostly worn-out. Still, it’s a better first impression of del Toro’s skill than “Mimic”, which is probably the first del Toro film most of us ever saw. So there’s that.

Grade: C- (as in, “Cronos’s penis was hurled from Mt. Olympus and into the ocean where from the sea foam it created as it dissolved, Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, was born. That would’ve made a much cooler movie”.)

House (1986)

2010-07-31T14:18:00.003-04:00

When “Poltergeist” hit in 1982, it introduced something new to the archaic haunted house subgenre of horror: heavy duty special effects and elaborate monsters. Many argue the quality of the trend, and I admit that it had its downsides, but at the end of the day, I’d say the whole thing was worth it just because it gave us “House”.

Following the death of his aunt (Susan French), horror novelist Roger Kobb (William Katt) moves into her sprawling, and supposedly haunted, mansion. Roger’s life has been in a downward spiral, as he’s been burdened with memories of not only his years in Vietnam, but of the time when his son mysteriously vanished within the very house he’s moved into. Roger is looking for answers and may very well find them, as all sorts of hideous creatures lurk within the closets and chimneys of the house, and they all want a piece of him.

Director Steve Miner, fresh off his two-film run on the “Friday the 13th” series, showed that he really had the gumption (do people still use that word?) to make a hugely entertaining monster movie, albeit one disguised as a haunted house film. As a director, Miner is something of a Jack of all Trades, which you can gather just by glancing at his filmography on IMDB. For both better (“Friday the 13th Part II”) and worse (“Halloween H20”), the man’s greatest impact has been felt in the horror genre, even though comparatively speaking, his various comedy films, dramas and television episodes dwarf his horror efforts. “House” is a nice microcosm of everything Miner is capable of as a director, primarily blending horror with comedy, but also working-in great doses of special effects and even some genuine emotional drama.

“House” is flaunted as a horror-comedy, which it really is. For all the scary monsters and spooky sets that constitute this picture, their suspense is regularly offset by heavy doses of camp and self-awareness, but never to the point of being obnoxious. George Wendt (of “Cheers”) plays Roger’s nosey but good-natured neighbor and always shows up with a quip just long-enough to be funny, but without overstaying his welcome. Even the primary villain of the film, Big Ben, is played by another 80s sitcom icon, Richard Moll (Bull from “Night Court”). He has a Freddy Krueger-ness to him, though without all the Looney Tunes trappings. And when he shows up as a ghost at the end, he uses a voice identical to the one he used for Two-Face in “Batman: The Animated Series”!

In my opening paragraph, I made “House” sound fairly derivative of “Poltergeist”, which probably wasn’t a fair thing to do. True, “House” follows in the footsteps of “Poltergeist” by eschewing typical haunted house picture bullet-points (bumps in the night, creaky doors, vaporous apparitions) and deploying heavy duty special effects that portray the “ghosts” more akin to bizarre “Ghostbusters”-esque “monsters”, but “House” does it with its own unique style and approach. At any rate, it never comes off as a “cash-in” on early 80s ghost and haunting films like the aforementioned “Poltergeist” and “Ghostbusters”, but closer to one inspired by their approach to do something creative and fun.

Ethan Wiley’s screenplay is heavily focused on the single character of Roger to the point of forgoing a supporting cast nearly entirely. George Wendt’s character gets the most face-time outside of Roger, but his scenes are a refreshing balance of “snoopy behavior” and “genuine concern” to make him feel like a likeable personage. The upside of this is that Roger gets a lot of development since he has no supporting players to compete with and William Katt does a magnificent job of energizing him with a perfect mix of manic humor (his “test run” of the camera system), determined curiosity (wanting to capture the creature in the closet), elements of a troubled past (the various Vietnam flashbacks) and a great sense of tragedy and loss (as he laments over his missing son).

I think one of the most frightening moments in the film, and one that gives credence to Miner’s excellent versatility as a director, has nothing to do with any of the monsters. It’s the flashback where Roger’s son, Jimmy (dual role by Erik and Mark Silver), disappears. One moment, Roger is trimming the hedge and keeping an eye on his son, playing with his trucks in the yard. He turns his head for a second, looks back, and he’s gone. Roger runs to the front yard, only to see a car screeching to a start and racing away, filling him with all sorts of panic as he yells for his wife and runs around the side of the house. He then finds Jimmy splashing for help in the swimming pool, jumps in to save him, and he vanishes under the water.

While the part with the pool is where the Hollywood make-believe begins, everything up to that point felt very real and all the more frightening because of it. I’m no father, but the scenario is presented so believably and almost mundanely, brought to life by Katt’s performance, that you really feel a sense of dread and suspense, even though it’s a flashback and you know exactly how it turns out.

The movie isn’t without its flaws, though. As much fun as “House” is, it is a flick you should never, ever stop to think about. As involved and character-driven as the story is, if you think about it too hard, you open up all sorts of questions and plot holes. So was the house haunted before Richard Moll’s ghost showed up? Did Richard Moll’s ghost create all the weird monsters in the house? If so, then why would he create some that looked like midget husband and wife goblins? If Jimmy was trapped inside the dimension within the house for over a year, what did he eat? If the ghosts in the house were only illusions capable of “tricking” people into killing themselves, and not actually capable of hurting anyone, then how did the monster in the closet scratch Roger up so much?

Just don’t think about it.

“House” wasted no time in spawning three sequels; the second one being considered “better” by people I want to punch, the third featuring Lance Henrikson battling an evil man-faced roast turkey, and the fourth one bringing back William Katt for a rather forgettable direct plot sequel to this first film. Just skip all those and pick up Anchor Bay’s excellent 2002 DVD set. Oh, and because I couldn’t think of anywhere else to say this, “House” has one of the coolest pieces of video box art ever.

Grade: B (as in, “But who the Hell brushes their teeth by sucking the paste from the tube, putting the dry brush in their mouth, then wetting the brush in the sink before scrubbing? My suspension of disbelief can only go so far, Miner!”)

Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979)

2010-07-28T19:56:00.002-04:00

“Nosferatu the Vampyre”, originally titled “Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht” in Germany, is a film I was very hesitant about going into. You see, I don’t just regard F.W. Murnau’s original “Nosferatu” as the greatest vampire film ever made, but I regard it as one of my favorite horror films, perhaps even contending for the title of Number One. I won’t say that the idea of a remake offended me (as a horror fan, I got over that a long time ago), but I will say that I was never particularly enthused to view it, since I mean, really, no matter how good it might be, how could it even stand up next to the original?

Well, I learned my lesson. Werner Herzog’s 1979 remake of “Nosferatu” is an astonishing piece of cinema that’s original while still being respectful to the source and holds up just fine alongside its inspiration.

Jonathan Harker (Bruno Ganz), a real estate agent, heads out to deepest Transylvania to close a deal with the not-so-subtly evil Count Dracula (Klaus Kinski). The decrepit, rat-like vampire traps Harker in his castle and moves to Wismar, Germany, bringing a legion of rats and a Black Death along with him. As the people of Wismar fall victim to the plague and Dracula’s appetites, Harker’s wife, Lucy (Isabelle Adjani), ignites the Count’s forgotten memories of love and may be the only one capable of stopping him.

I believe this marks the fifth time I’ve reviewed a film adaptation of “Dracula”, and to be entirely honest with you, I am running out of ways to word that fucking plot summary.

Anyway, I had always heard nothing but praise and accolades for Werner Herzog’s remake of “Nosferatu”, so despite my wariness of it not being able to compete with the original, I was never suspicious that it might be a bad film. No, I think that going into the movie, my greatest fear was that I just didn’t know what to expect.

You see, despite being a remake of 1922’s “Nosferatu”, it does not use any of the original names for the characters from that film, instead opting to use the names of their “Dracula” counterparts. While I’m aware that “Nosferatu” was conceived as a modified adaptation of “Dracula” with the names changed in an attempt to avoid copyright infringement, I still view it as a distinct-enough entity to at least warrant viewing the character of Count Orlok separately from the character of Count Dracula. So knowing that this was a remake of “Nosferatu”, using the “Dracula” names, and highly praised as one of the best adaptations of “Dracula”, I was rightly confused as to what to expect. Would this be a straight-up adaptation of “Dracula” bearing none of the plot modifications seen in the original “Nosferatu”, its only connection to that film being Klaus Kinski’s make-up?

Well, my confusion was quickly dispelled as I discovered “Nosferatu the Vampyre” was a decompressed adaptation of “Nosferatu”, bearing all of its plot modifications and hitting all its story beats (save for boasting an original ending). I was very pleased with this and it didn’t take me long to get over the name thing, even if I felt slightly irked whenever a character addressed what was visually Count Orlok as Count Dracula.

While Herzog’s remake hits precisely the same story elements as the original film in roughly the same order, and even goes so far as to recreate many environments from the film and homage numerous shots, it nevertheless retains an air of originality. Despite the laundry list of similarities, you never feel “bored” or like you’re simply watching the old film with new actors, as befalls a lot of remakes that slavishly stick to the source material (I’m looking at you, “Psycho” and “The Hills Have Eyes”). Though scarcely thirteen minutes longer than the original, Herzog’s “Nosferatu” packs in a greater sense of character depth not only to the main villain and the protagonists, but to all the people of Wismar.

Herzog’s filming style is something I think a lot of today’s horror directors, with their nonstop assembly line of canned jump-scares, false alarms, CG effects, ADHD-fueled scene cuts and “in your face” action, could stand to take a lesson from. Herzog’s sense of atmosphere and crafting of uneasy dread is nearly incomparable and “Nosferatu the Vampyre” is one of the finest showcases of how subtlety and creepiness can be far more effective than cheap uses of sudden explosions to make the 13 year-old girls in the theater scream. I think the finest example of this is when Harker is alone in Dracula’s castle, exploring its winding corridors and many cobwebbed rooms. The scene takes place in daylight, with sunlight filling the chambers, and yet everything remains as weird and unsettling as if it were “a dark and stormy night”. The castle design is one of the best I’ve seen in any horror film to the point where Harker appears as though he's trapped in some bizarre, ancient oil painting of the variety you see reprinted in text books. And though Herzog succeeds in homaging many of the classic shots from F. W. Murnau’s version, he never reduces himself to aping the man’s style and creates a visually distinct brand of horror.

Before I talk about the cast, I suppose what I have to discuss first is that “Nosferatu the Vampyre” and “Nosferatu: Phantom der Nacht” are not exactly the same film. Well, rather, they are the same film, but the only difference is that all the scenes with dialogue were filmed in both German and English languages. While I suppose this is a better alternative to Godzilla-style dubbing techniques, it presents its own unique set of problems. English was not the cast’s first language, so they speak the dialogue almost phonetically at times, often unconfident or what they’re saying and how they’re saying it, and the words out of their mouths sound awkward throughout the entire film. I can’t blame the actors, who were made to act in a language they didn’t understand, but the poor line delivery doesn’t do the film any favors. You are much better off viewing the “Phantom der Nacht” version of the film (both were packaged with Anchor Bay’s 2002 DVD set for convenience), as the performances are far more enjoyable in their native language, and really, subtitles aren’t that big a deal.

So in regards to the cast, when they’re speaking German, they’re all quite good. Bruno Ganz’s Harker is a bit too wooden and uninterested in what’s going on around him at times, and though he channels the emotion of fear quite well when responding to Dracula’s creepy behavior, I felt he could’ve emoted a bit more. Still, he’s not as wooden as Keanu Reaves’ Harker from “Bram Stoker’s Dracula”, but that’s a rather benchmark-low, really. In a deviation from the original, Harker never recovers after his escape from Dracula’s castle, and the real protagonist of the film ends up being Lucy. Isabelle Adjani starts off nearly as devoid of enthusiasm as Ganz, but quickly becomes far more involved in what’s going on, particularly during the scenes where she wanders about the empty, plague-ridden streets. It was refreshing to see a strong female character in one of these older vampire flicks, where women were almost always relegated to perpetual victim status.

The real star of the show, though, is Klaus Kinski as Count Dracula. He bears the appearance of Max Schreck quite well, though make-up design that awesome is pretty hard to screw up. He interprets this version of “Orlok” with more self-awareness of his curse and the tragedy of his existence, which I can’t help but feel was funneled into Willem Defoe’s portrayal of the character in “Shadow of the Vampire”. In my opinion, the highlight of his entire performance can be seen early on during the “dinner scene” with Harker. Though the room is reasonably well-lit, whenever the scene cuts to Kinski, he is bathed entirely in darkness save his gruesome face; a sight that really lingers with you.

If I had to criticize anything, I suppose it’s that Herzog could take establishing shots and soundless montages a bit too far. There’s a moment where he films a cliff-side and a darkening sky to signify the coming of night, but it feels like it just goes on and on and on. Two minutes may not sound like a lot, but when you’re watching a movie, yeah, it feels like twenty. While I’m in no way saying I have a preference for the Michael Bay-esque rapid cuts that pollute modern horror films, there’s a certain balance and staring at a darkening sky for two minutes is just taking things too far in the other direction.

But that’s more a minor detail. Herzog’s “Nosferatu” is an amazing piece of work and a fantastic compliment to the original. Both versions tell (roughly) the same story with (roughly) the same characters, but the presentation of each is very different and wonderful in their own way. Though I recommend the “Phantom der Nacht” version, “Nosferatu the Vampyre” is one of the better vampire films you can get your hands on, and a glorious alternative to the modern day sparkly Jonas Brothers we're stuck with.

Grade: A (as in, “Agh! Stop playing that fucking violin, kid!”)

Night of the Living Dead (1968)

2010-07-24T23:22:00.002-04:00

“Big name” horror films are often the hardest to review since, well, what’s left for there to be said about them? George A. Romero’s original “Night of the Living Dead” is everything everyone has ever described it as and it’s hard for me to conjure up anything unique to say about it, which naturally taxes my enthusiasm to do so.

But that pointless bit of whining aside, if you haven’t seen “Night of the Living Dead” by now, then you are most likely homeless. Being in the public domain and all, that means that you already own it; and I don’t just mean a copy, but the actual rights to the film. It’s been a staple of movie theater midnight shows, late night public access creature features and video store bargain bins for decades, not to mention the fact that you can watch it for free online without having to steal it, too. It is quite possibly the most accessible film on the planet and the only way I can imagine a human being having not seen it by now is if they’ve been actively avoiding it. And if so, then shame on you. “Night of the Living Dead” is awesome.

Radiation from Venus has infected the recently deceased, causing the dead to rise and walk the earth, craving human flesh. Ben (Duane Jones) and Barbara (Judith O’Dea) seek refuge in an isolated rural home as hordes of zombies encircle them. Trapped together with a pair of teenage oafs, a jackass and his wife and daughter, Ben and Barbara’s greatest challenge will be enduring their company moreso than the flesh-eating monstrosities outside.

I’m not going to get all philosophical on you with some deep ramble about how “Night of the Living Dead” is a commentary on the Vietnam War, race relations or the decay of American values, because Lord knows there are enough reviews like that out there. When I pop in “Night of the Living Dead”, I’m more impressed with the atmosphere, the strong characters, the tension and the morbid visuals than any thinly veiled social commentary.

For a movie that redefined a long overlooked horror subgenre with its frighteningly modern and gruesome depiction of zombies, “Night of the Living Dead” is a film more defined by its human characters than the shambling undead. Though their threat is ever-present, the main suspense offered by the flick isn’t so much the zombies, but the fact that the people trapped by them absolutely, positively cannot work together to save their lives (a theme that resurfaces in all of Romero’s “Dead” films). Our protagonist, Ben, seems to be the only character in the movie that’s worth a damn, as Barbara is a catatonic wreck, the Coopers (Karl Hardman and Marilyn Eastman) are either consistently trying to sabotage him or doting do-nothings and the teenagers (Keith Wayne and Judith Ridley) are two brain-cells short of a fruit salad. You really feel for poor Ben, as he’s the only rationally thinking, competent individual in a house full of loons and imbeciles.

But while the character-fueled tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife, Romero finds opportunities to effectively and believably build the world the film is taking place in through radio and television broadcasts. While the stated reason for the zombies (Venus radiation) is goofy sci-fi schlock, the various news footage, story details and public reactions are all very authentic in their delivery, really selling the situation. I know that in this day and age, that sort of thing is old hat, but I struggle to think of a movie before “Night of the Living Dead” that accomplished it better.

I think one of the factors to the longevity of “Night of the Living Dead”, aside from the fact that it’s free to anyone who wants it, is that despite its age, it feels eternally modern. You can look at other horror films made in the 60s and even into the early 70s, and they tend to feel dated or even passable for something made fifteen years earlier. Romero brought a fresh take to the world of horror cinema, which was still getting out of its “Atomic Age” phase, creating a story and a situation that could occur in any generation.

The only thing really dating the film (aside from fashions and being in black and white), is the music. The entire score is pulled from library music and feels very inappropriate. The whole score actually sounds like it would be better suited to a gothic Universal Studios monster movie from the 40s. The only really outstanding instance of music I could notice came during the feasting scene; the music there sounding so incongruous with all the hammy stock orchestrations that came before and after it.

To get back to the fact that “Night of the Living Dead” is a public domain film; that works both positively and negatively for it. On the bright side, as I mentioned, anyone who wants it can see it for free with minimal effort. The downside is that anyone can do anything they want to the film. They can recolor it, rerelease it, reedit it, rescore it, remake it, and they’re well within their legal right to do so. This has created a rather tremendous glut of low-quality releases of the film on video, as well as many alternate versions crafted by film school rejects with too much free time on their hands.

You have a lot of options to choose from and should be careful when purchasing it on DVD, lest you end up with one of the awful colorized versions, John Russo’s heinous 30th Anniversary Edition with poorly conceived, newly shot footage spliced in, or even a cartoon version that recycles the soundtrack of the flick (I’ve heard this one isn’t half bad, for novelty’s sake). For my money’s worth, I’m pleased with my Millennium Edition DVD produced by Elite Entertainment. It’s the original, unaltered film with an approved THX transfer, tons of bonus features and even George A. Romero’s seal of approval on the back. If you’re looking for what version to get, I’d say you can’t go wrong with that one.

I guess, in the end, I did manage to think up some stuff to say about this film, and hopefully it isn’t all stuff you’ve read a million times before in a million other reviews. “Night of the Living Dead” is just one of those movies you really need to see, as it’s the genesis of the modern zombie film and a damn good movie in and of itself. Plus, you know, you own it, whether you realize you do or not.

Grade: A (as in, “And check out Tom Savini’s 1990 remake, too. Barbara isn’t entirely useless in that version”.)