The Book of Horror (May Contain Spoilers)

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Chapter 29: The Dead - Always - Come Home


Pet Sematary
(1989 / director: Mary Lambert)

★★½

By any reasonable standards, Pet Sematary is a bad movie. The movie's depth level never sinks below the skin. The best performances (Fred Gwynne and Miko Hughes, obviously) are rendered average by some truly clueless, simple-minded character writing. The plot takes so many detours into patented, abject absurdness (aka; "WtF?!") that at some point- you will want to pull your hair out (my #1 was the funeral brawl, a scene so ridiculous in concept that over 20 years later it remains totally incomprehensible). The story is plain dumb. Most of the acting quality is low at best. And the entire film has a kind of music-video craftiness to the way it's shot. Like it's covering action, keeping shots short and never allowing us to get inside the characters' headspace (instead the movie chooses to try and manipulate raw emotions). However, despite all of these flaws the film also remains a strong experience to watch. Even with the tackiness, which it has in spades- especially during the flashbacks. For example: many people find "Zelda" a terrifying cinematic figure and I've never understood that. One of my big things is that for something or someone sympathetic to be scary, they have to undergo a transformation of some kind and become twisted apart from how they are we first see them. In this case, adopting a demonic voice and looking directly into the camera while cackling like a witch isn't nearly enough. Or how about the scene with the goofy, retarded tubby zombie war-hero smearking blood on his face and lighting houses on fire. These things are annoyances but they don't sink the film completely. In fact, one has to thank music video vet Mary Lambert for her eye for tight editing and good-looking visuals, as well as her obviously keen ear for music. Those are three things that contribute to a tangibly dark and fun feel throughout.

It's almost possible to ignore everything irritating about the movie because of how well the eerie mood in the film is aided by all the work done around the edges of the story. The movie is legitimately spooky with its' cursed mountain atmosphere. Like The Shining before it, King returns here to the theme of Indian burial grounds sending off bad vibes throughout the surrounding area, only here you can actually see as well as feel the presence of evil spirituality in the form of an almost Fulci-an "beyond" of sorts. A gateway to forbidden territory that channels its force into the murderous possession of corpses. That would make it something special by itself, but the movie doesn't just stop there. That's merely the jumping off point to a sort of war for the soul of the main character with the introduction of "good" and "bad" angels, Victor Pascow (Brad Greenquist- trying his hardest to be mysterious but doing a terrible job) and Jud Crandell (Gwynne, famously the original Herman on TV's The Munsters, who is trying to be sympathetic but instead is thoroughly creepy). By this point, things have been moving along fast but they've been bland and you realize it's intentional but you don't know why. Initially, you may assume it's because the device of characters searching for coping mechanisms leading to smiley scenes of "I believe in Heaven" and weepy scenes of "God could take it back if he wanted" is always bland. But then, an hour into the movie, things start to get nasty. Not repellent as much as playful. All sense of serious drama and human tragedy are tossed out the window and the peddle is pushed to the metal. You literally (if you've never seen the film before) would be surprised at how much the film strikes back at its' somber, grieving characters. Torturing them (ala- The Evil Dead, only with more convincing gore and better make-up FX) with visions of their loved ones come back to life to stalk and kill them.

And that does come as something of a consolation to someone who's had to sit through so many lifeless (no pun intended) talky ghost movies that I couldn't stand. I personally feel this one makes up for what they lacked with pure carnage and gruesome imagery. Pet Sematary is not all that it can be (for a far scarier and more intense talking-zombie slasher film, 1988's unsung masterpiece Dead Dudes in the House is your way to go) but it's got a lot of things going for it.

[nopersonality]

Chapter 41: The Red of Night


The Company of Wolves
(1984 / director: Neil Jordan)

★★★

Nothing about or within the world of The Company of Wolves is simple or cleanly cut. It may owe a lot to films like Suspiria in that most viewers never quite know what's going on, or Carrie because it really holds on to its' horror and waits a long time before letting go. This film is rather stuck between the worlds of classic horror which wouldn't allow it to be this sexual or this suggestive about its' subject matter, and the world of modern fx-driven horror which almost demands that it deliver hard shocks or a modern 80's sarcastic attitude. So to take some of that pressure off of it, the hardcore fans of the movie have made sure to call it fantasy more than horror. Of course the nature of the horror film dictates that, among other things, it's never completely accessible or easy to digest. There's a certain amount of waiting the audience has to do to plug into it. Because this film is about opening new worlds of discovery after being told that "straying from the path" is dangerous, or that if you're "bitten" by a "devil," you'll go to hell. That's not to say that it's overly religious. There's a very touching moment where a Priest looks at a "mutant," and after questioning whether he should help it because it might be "the work of the devil," he decides to not think about that because it's wounded and needs help. You might think that's religious. But you won't when the scene comes up. Things like that are irrelevant, in the grand scheme of the movie there's always something more important. Give it credit for being able to do something I've never seen another horror film do- hold back on brutality and overbearing creepiness and make you appreciate that. The film is always more intriguing than outright dangerous. But even then, it has its' dark side and surprised me several times by earning its' R-rating. It almost feels like something made-for-television and does seek to hit high emotional archs in spite of the fact that most of the people in the story are old-fashioned, quiet mannered, and passive in many ways. But eventually, I was riveted into whatever the story was aiming to accomplish.

It is a thorough work of dark fantasy, and passionately dedicated to the "what you see isn't always what is real" school of storytelling. So, that's what the film is. A tug of war between the light and the dark inside the characters. Some have a lot more light and little dark. Others have very little light and quite a bit of dark. You'll know the balance of each the moment they turn up onscreen. This film references fairy tales throughout. Such as Little Red Riding Hood. And seeks to pretty much let you know the end of everyone when you meet them. What's even more fascinating though is that this film also wants to be a kind of anthology. The bookends seem to mean very little in setting things up. It begins and ends in the 1980's but the movie is in the middle, which takes place in the fairy tale anywhere-time/place and consists of the characters telling each other stories. Those stories look as though they bounce all over the place in history. Without any explanation (other than one character shown to be sleeping beforehand or another leading into it with "let me tell you a story"), we go from one point in time to another and this jarring back and forth is problematic at first. But to the film's further credit, there's a running theme throughout of forceful or powerful women. After hearing a very graphic and bloody story about a woman whose first husband returns years after having gone missing and tries to attack her when he transforms into a werewolf, what the little red riding hood of this movie responds to is the fact that the woman's current husband slapped her. Several references are made to this girl's fearlessness. She's not entirely fearless, but when her mother and grandmother warn her that the woods are dangerous- she makes sure to take a kitchen knife with her. And to show it off to the cute little village boy who has a crush on her.

The movie plays it heavy on symbolic imagery and things you have to think multiple times about as they happen to hopefully be able to process. Some is about dreams, quite a bit is about babies and motherhood, a lot is about sex. Baby symbolism would seem to me to be almost a commentary on Rosaleen and the scenes that suggest she's growing up or on the verge of getting in a relationship with a boy since she's incredibly beautiful (it runs in the family- so is her mother). Perhaps that is "the path" that is constantly referenced in the dialogue. But then, you have to read into what happens when Rosaleen sees the baby / cherub statues. What she does is becomes very excited and finds it immensely moving. But if that's "the path," then why does she always stray from it? Every scene shows her disagreeing with everyone she talks to and every time you see a road or pathway, she goes into the woods instead of following the road where it leads. This makes her a very interesting character. At least so far as the period fairy tale is. The way most of them are told, the girl is not only unwitting and naive but falls victim to her naivety and needs to be rescued by a man. I believe in this movie, the "Huntsman" character from the Little Red Riding Hood story is the person playing the Big Bad Wolf character here. So the original protector (or the need to be protected) is now the thing she has to be afraid of. The technical and artistic aspects of the movie are first-rate according to their budget. I first thought the transformation scenes were very lacking, victims of a lower budget. Very few werewolf transformations in the genre really stick out and these do. Not because of their technical quality, but because of what's also going on in the scene. In fact, more is going on in the story at these points than during those in the two 80's werewolf films that get the most attention (The Howling and An American Werewolf in London).

It's come to my attention recently that the movie has taken some heat from men who assume that it has an anti-male agenda. In this movie, almost all the men are presented as powerful or sophisticated or as being the most understanding or sensitive characters (the Priest, Rosaleen's father). If anything, it's the mother and the grandmother who are presented as being either uptight or confused. And with Rosaleen being the strong young independent woman she basically turns out to be (if the previous scenes didn't drive this home, the twist ending within the last period scene does), you can't call the movie sexist either way. It's surprisingly not a parable about women or men being evil or that you can't trust them. It's about something inbetween. The film seems like it's not scary but is an overall intense-fantasy. It does have creepy ideas if you can read between the lines (the banquet scene in particular borders on ugly because of its story's corpulence, but thankfully doesn't descend into gross-out). It has its' own tremendous power. One that I can't deny, even though parts of it still make no sense to me whatsoever. I can however appreciate the mystery of a film that could be considered style over substance (Neil Jordan's follow-up horror film, 1994's bloated Hollywood snoozefest Interview with the Vampire - a male version of The Hunger - is certainly that). This movie has substance. Even if you take it at complete face value, the acting is so damn good and there's a surprising amount of drama, that the film achieves a great many more layers than you might expect. As a monster movie, it does deliver, albeit... sideways. If you're looking for it, you'll find something to be scared of. Though again, look within the cracks. (You may not have to since this story is the kind that gets a reaction) Because things are often more that what they seem.

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Chapter 119: The Position Has Been Filled


Transylvania Twist
(1989 / director: Jim Wynorski)

★½

Horror spoofs are very hard to make work, for some reason. I imagine it could be because usually the filmmakers aren't real fans of the genre (what the hell other explanation is there for the Scary Movie series?). That is not the case for Transylvania Twist as director Jim Wynorski (previously the director of the sci-fi comedies, The Return of Swamp Thing and the Traci Lords remake of Not of This Earth) is clearly in love with Roger Corman's classic 1960's AIP Edgar Allen Poe films and knows them pretty well. There are references right and left to, especially, 1960's The (Fall of the) House of Usher and 1962's The Premature Burial, as well as a sequence featuring clips taken from a Boris Karloff movie (Karloff, a veteran of the 1920's classic horror, actually appeared in Corman's The Raven). Those films of course have absolutely nothing to do with vampires and it seems someone at Roger Corman's Miracle Pictures (known in DVD circles as New Concorde and sometimes New Horizons) ordered a vampire spoof. Probably because the 80's was full of not just vampire films (Fright Night, The Lost Boys, Near Dark) but ridiculous jabs at the formula (Vamp, My Best Friend is a Vampire, Beverly Hills Vamp). But Wynorski and writer R.J. Robertson fill the movie full of references to other horror films, including: Phantasm (that's the Tall Man himself, Angus Scrimm you see in the pic above), The Exorcist, Poltergeist II, and representations of 4 of the 6 major slasher icons- guy in hockey mask (Jason Voorhees from the Friday the 13th franchise, though he wields Michael Myers' trademark butcher's knife from Halloween), guy wearing human skin on his face wielding chainsaw (Leatherface from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre), guy with burnt face, red and green striped sweater, and sharp objects on his hand (Freddy Krueger from A Nightmare on Elm Street), and bald guy in long black leather outfit with needles sticking out of his face (Pinhead from Hellraiser).

All that (as well as top-notch performances from B-movie veterans Robert Vaughn as the evil but charming Count Orlock character and Ace Mask - who always looks 65 but was actually only 40 at the time this film was shot - as Van Helsing, the vampire hunter; and cameos from 80's Scream Queen Brinke Stevens and Famous Monsters of Filmland's creator, Forrest J. Ackerman) helps the movie as much as it can but in the end, it's not enough. Viewers could claim the problem is that the jokes are dull or too lightweight. I don't think so. I think the ideas all around are very good (which is why Vaughn, Mask, and Scrimm do such a great job with them). This is definitely another ZAZ-influenced movie that tries to cram as many visual gags and observational one-liners into every scene as they can think up or afford. Movies cheaper than this have achieved far better laughs. Basically the failure falls on the shoulders of young leads, wooden but busty Teri Copley and ultra-obnoxious but kinda cute Steve Altman (the poor man's William Ragsdale). Especially him! He looks like he hasn't slept in a week, dresses like a slob, and yet tries to leap around with endless energy since the part requires him to spout a one-liner every 40 seconds (on average). He doesn't have the charisma or the staying power to pull off the routine. In fact... he's the kind of person you grow so tired of so quickly, I'd be surprised if I wasn't the only one who wanted to see him get hit by a car. The movie's mediocrity would be a lot more painless, easygoing, and maybe even likable were it not for his awful shtick. Also (with the exception of some fine, cartoonish Howard Morris daffiness and a great spooky dream sequence with luscious B-movie goddess Monique Gabrielle, a Jim Wynorski stock player - also here is Sorority House Massacre II's Toni Naples / Karen Chorak - as a vampiric Freddy Krueger), the final half hour dissolves into some major stupidity with Wynorski suddenly channeling Empire Pictures / Full Moon stuff.

[nopersonality]

Chapter 173: Invasion of the Bod People


Leprechaun 4: In Space
(1996 / director: Brian Trenchard-Smith)

½★

Leprechaun 4 is the cheapest, shittiest workout video ever made. All but 3 members of the cast look like they were either football players in college or on steroids. Which is not necessarily a bad thing, since it leads to some damn fine eye-candy for both persuasions. The only good thing about the movie in fact is that the guys are not merely buff as hell, but gorgeous as hell too. I say that because I sincerely feel if you come for the chicks, you'll be let down (is it me, or has 20-something Jessica Collins' face already had a run-in or two with a scalpel?). The only one who bares her breasts is Rebekah Carlton and she's not exactly well-endowed. Come to think of it, only one of the studs goes shirtless too. This movie is so confused that it has no idea what it wants to be.

The main character, scientist Tina, acts sophisticated and intelligent and brings out the gentleman in love interest Brent Jasmer (not surprisingly, a Playgirl coverboy), one of the spaceship's team of rowdy guys whose only female company has been the ultra-butch tomboy Debbe Dunning (whom you may remember I talked about, unfavorably, in my review of Tales from the Crypt's Season 6 episode, "The Pit"). The other guys are typical flat stereotypes- loud, brainless, and one-liner spewing. Except for the ship's mad scientist: the elderly, hairless and unshapely Dr. Mittenhand (Guy Siner, the poor man's Paul Freeman) and brown-nosing nerd Harold (Gary Grossman, here- the poor man's Leslie Jordan) who are introduced as almost aristocratic and soft-mannered sissies... but later fawn over the bratty Princess character and the latter of whom even fondles her breasts and macks on her belly 10 minutes after hitting on Brent. Meanwhile, if this is an attempt to say that sexuality is more fluid in the future, why are the soldier guys so generic circa-90's TV cliches of chauvinists (and the women's retorts so vintage Step by Step)? Only the higher-ups have evolved (which also dashes any hope of man-on-man action)? The cliches don't stop there either. There is also the Day of the Dead-borrowed drama about the hardship of losing soldiers in the line of duty, then later the leader (Tim Colceri- the poor man's Tony Curtis, but a knockout in the 80's) goes lip-synching, gold sequined purse-swinging drag for a routine featuring high kicks (connecting with the heads of his stunned troops) and a metal-head-plated meltdown culminating with gay lisps and a Sybil-icious argument between himself as a boy and his father in the movie's Suburban Commando-esque discotheque bar room.

Though it's gotten its fair share of criticism and taken several lumps from spurned renters who just through it was ridiculous, the first three films in the Leprechaun franchise did have their respective charms and novelties. I'd even go so far as to say it was a rewarding series up to this point. Trenchard-Smith also directed the previous Las Vegas-themed sequel which was actually fun. This movie's nowhere characters, bad ideas, incomplete story, and ultra-cheap vision of space would almost be forgivable if it weren't for how amazingly gross the special effects are. Not gross as in effective, gross as in bad. As in failure. I refuse to go into details but I'll just say the last 25 minutes are absolutely agonizing. Think David Cronenberg's gnarlier moments from The Fly (for example, the deleted "monkeycat" sequence) stretched out to TV-show episode length. And the quality is so low, it may very well make you nauseous. As will the unbelievably bad CG shots used as wipes of a sort into each new scene. 95 minutes of this and I predict you'll be reaching for the nearest handgun.

[nopersonality]

Chapter 74: The Search Begins


Don't Look Now
(1973 / director: Nicolas Roeg)

★★★

Donald Sutherland is not an actor a filmmaker casts in a horror movie. Forgive my preoccupation with defining films in the genre (as in; what makes a movie a horror movie) but there is a point. Not only that fans expect certain things from a movie that is labeled "horror," but also that it's clear many filmmakers want to be classy and feel pure horror is not interesting or valid somehow. Nicolas Roeg is a lot smarter than that, but nevertheless Don't Look Now is trying all the way through to distance itself from the horror genre because it feels it has an important story to tell. That it can't use horror as a device to achieve the drama it needs. So, instead it relies more on the pacing of a thriller (not to mention the camerawork and editing) and the psychology of a 70's drama: blunt and usually frill-less to the point of causing tension or discomfort. That is this movie's idea of horror. It builds up to admittedly well-done moments of horror with a great deal of needless padding. Whole scenes revolve around suggesting the hostility from Venetian natives (not that I can blame them- Venice, in my opinion, is extraordinarily ugly) toward American Sutherland as they glare at him intensely from behind the blinds of their windows or stand in hallways as he passes by, shouting words in Italian that are not translated for us by Roeg- right into the camera. A police official interviews him in an office, treating him like an ignorant foreigner, and seems to condescend to him as though he were a teenager. This is all fascinating for fans of thrillers, I'm sure. But what it has to do with the film's primary theme - second sight / psychic premonitions - I'll never know.

To continue on the observations of padding and that this movie enjoys forcing us to watch scenes in two languages without translating the 2nd one, there is this guy (I'd call him a character but the film must want us to see him as a kind of monkey- we don't know what he's saying, he's making a bunch of noise, and is very hairy) who works at the hotel the film's couple (Sutherland and the elegantly beautiful Julie Christie, who SO should have been considered for Lee Remick's part in The Omen) are staying at. He seems to have a real attitude problem. Oh, I know; look at it from his point of view... I know all that, but look at it from my point of view. What should this movie have to do with a hotel manager? He stands around the lobby trying to help them with everything and then the minute they walk offscreen, we stick around for 30 seconds while he talks about them to other people and seems to be insulting them. Is this a horror film or a social comedy? I can't even call it that- only those of us who speak Italian understand (and no- I don't regret not knowing the language, usually) what the fuck he's saying. The religious material fares far better. Though it's another cliche- he's skeptical and bitter about all matters dealing with spirituality and she's full of life, sweetness, and totally willing to embrace something with a new vitality about it. Basically, she's an effective upper for the movie which is necessary to give the downs the weight they need (you can't even imagine her having to suffer another tragedy after the film's epic opening scene) and he's always a downer. I have a hard time finding him to be a worthwhile main character (even though I share his cynicism about religion).

However, the movie is just intelligent enough to know that you don't have to care about a character to watch a movie about them. The very opening (first 20-something minutes) and the very ending (last 20-something) are the most effective in this. In downplaying Sutherland's annoying overly-dramatic habits (for example- smiling constantly when he is embarrassed so as to hopefully get the other person to smile it off with him, but it never works and they look at him like he's insane or drunk). The movie's eventual success is that while maybe one hour of it in total is not underwhelming, Christie's in and out from the film makes you wish it was a film about her. The movie is far too boring at times, but it's largely made up for with a few things. Christie, some great artsy shots from Roeg (my favorite: Hilary Mason through the gated bars in the church, in a sort of jump-cut which almost startled me), some pretty good action sequences (scored to atmospheric elements rather than big music cues), and a truly powerful performance by Mason as the blind psychic (also the creepy witch in Stuart Gordon's Dolls).

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Chapter 60: Enter at Your Own Risk


House
(1986 / director: Steve Miner)

★★★

Since Evil Dead II: Dead by Dawn wasn't released until the year after House, there is no way the two could exactly have known about each other. Yet the similiarities are remarkable; closeups of their mostly comical hero-studs brandishing weapons, someone losing a hand and then the hand takes on a life of its' own, flying demon creatures and mutated monsters terrorizing the leads, a witch in monster form with a twisted voice, and monsters that dawn human form to deceive their intended victims before switching into monster in the blink of a cutaway. However, where Dead by Dawn felt like an inferior copy of Evil Dead, House is far more original unto itself in every way. It may borrow the monsters in human form from the original Evil Dead (as well as the obvious thefts from Poltergeist), everything else sees ahead to where that sequel would try to go and gets there first. Some may end up preferring Dead by Dawn because it's a darker film, but tonally House is so ahead of itself it even predicts where Army of Darkness (the second sequel to Evil Dead) would go almost a decade later and gets there first. So, Evil Dead was destined to descend into pure frightlessness anyway. But House isn't frightless. It's extraordinarily goofy, but it's also a highly inventive series of freak-outs. Some gags pass by with little resonance and others (usually the build-ups to a sequence where the Roger character will see a monster) do a great job of racking up tension. Though the movie's violence is strictly PG-rated, there were moments where I realized I was getting majorly wound up. Miner is an expert in channeling nervy dread that you don't notice until it's almost time to explode (Warlock will really pick you up and thrash you about that way) and a very underrated director in the genre (whose Friday the 13th Part III was easily the best in the franchise until Part VI came along).

House's best feature though is a wicked sense of humor. Because this isn't a film featuring dozens of tilted and spinny camera angles, it fits more into the Hollywood mode of storytelling and seeks to mine that for some excellent jokes. There's even a one-two punch in less than a minute. Roger watches his ex-wife on a cheesy soap opera while babysitting his next door neighbor's son. His attention is divided between three things; his computer (he's trying to write a book about his experiences as a soldier in Vietnam- and he very well may have a new perspective to add to the pile of One's Man stories), the utterly hilarious dialogue from the TV ("My sister was an only child and you abused her... I can never forgive you for that," "I can't hide the fact that I've been a male prostitute all my life"), and the little boy who is now starting to cry and wail. Not only are we being treated to some very funny satire of soap operas, but between the lines we can hear, Roger gets tired of the child's whining (the director's actual toddler son) and suggests he "play with a nice plastic bag," which is a suffocation hazard for children of his age. The beginning has a lot of good jokes as well. When we first meet Roger, he's autographing his Stephen King-type books for a group of half-enthusiastic, half-fickle fans (one woman, Austin Powers' Mindy Sterling, only gets in line because she's a fan of his ex-wife, the soap opera actress) who are eagerly awaiting his next book and don't want him to drift away from horror fiction (predicting the seed of Misery the film by a good 4 years). Roger's nutty aunt, a morbid-art painter, is also a source of several jokes. Other than her outright daffy (Looney Tunes is mentioned in the dialogue at one point, perhaps to this movie what The Three Stooges was to The Evil Dead) personality, her funeral is attended by a pair of same-aged friends. The wife balls and the husband says, "She wasn't crazy, Roger. Now, my wife... She's crazy."

What should be the least interesting part of the film, the Vietnam flashbacks, also pay off in a sense. Finally, the movie's hero is actually a coward. He was involved in a 2-man ambush where, saved by fellow soldier Ben after a grenade is thrown who is then brought down by gunfire, he refuses to kill Ben and as a result Ben is captured and tortured by the enemy. This turns out to be part of the catalyst for the entire house's turn to evil and what keeps Roger from ever leaving (his son is kidnapped by the house and he intends to find him) despite the frequent monster attacks and interludes of bizarreness involving a sad zombie fish, murder attempts by real estate agents, hallucinations that can be controlled by a television remote (predicting Shocker by 3 years), and gardening implements which don't just fly through the air- they also knock first before entering a room. The film's goofiness and low stakes are dictated by the cast, including William Katt - famous from TV's The Greatest American Hero (though previously, you'll remember him as Carrie's prom date) - and George Wendt from Cheers. Though it's a highly credible comedy, you wouldn't think so with other Friday the 13th names Sean S. Cunningham and Harry Manfredini involved. Manfredini's score is appropriate for the movie's tone though it's clearly inferior to his score for Part VI: Jason Lives, equally silly and slap happy yet it had a real theme within the score and this does not. The actual theme song seems to be a really bad 80's recreation of Betty Everett's "You're No Good" (notorious for being covered by Linda Ronstadt and shooting Linda to huge fame instead of Betty). Aside from that, House has a lot going for it. I'm still impressed by the alternate dimension scene and a cameo of sorts from pre-In the Heat of the Night megahunk Alan Autry who does very well with comedy.

[nopersonality]

Chapter 146: No Escape from the Escapee


The Initiation
(1983 / director: Larry Stewart)

★★

After the holiday horror boom of the early 80's had pretty much died (only the occasional April Fools' Day or Silent Night, Deadly Night trickled out after 1983), little companies needed a new novelty under which to mass produce more cheap slashers. They racked their brains, come up dry, and eventually decided to just copy the formers until they were entirely dead. The Initiation is an almost rancid concoction, mixing 1981's far superior Hell Night, Alone in the Dark, and Happy Birthday to Me with leftover cliches from Halloween and Black Christmas (which were responsible for the trend that gave this insane cycle of slasher rip-offs life). Following the traumas of the past formula that were typical to the Jamie Lee Curtis films Prom Night and Terror Train, we find ourselves in a stupid sorority house on a lame college campus where everyone is obsessed with psychology and Freud. This usually leads to bad sex jokes and frat humor (the kind Troma does better, anyway)- and that's meant to be an escape from the childish examinations of main character Kelly's fragmented subconscious. She falls for adorable Psych professor James Read and he at first is scholastically interested in her recurring nightmare, then he develops a self-righteous attitude to combat her haggy mother (Psycho's Vera Miles- who at least had the red herring factor to help us digest her heavy in the far better Psycho II) when he meets her (she has a queen-sized stick up her ass, to further pale her in comparison to the likes of Shelley Winters). If this movie is interested in psychology, it needs to go back to school.

The acting quality is also painfully bad (later to star in Mel Brooks' Spaceballs, Daphne Zuniga is in way over her head here... in a cheap slasher movie), with the exception of Marilyn Kagan and, of course, Clu Gulager. The "kills" are boring (probably because the writing sucks so much), most of which are committed by one of those three-spiked gardening hoes (oh- they just call it a claw). The music score does that farty synth-horn sound effect during would-be suspenseful moments. The film caves to sleaze with pointless nudity (which you only notice as being a flaw in films this bad) featuring full-bush, and an almost vomit-inducing visual reference to a talking giant cock and balls. Then, there is a twist ending so bad, you might not even believe your... ears, in this case ("All these yeeeeurs, you've been seein' sights uhla world enive been stuck in that place..."), which you'll be covering during that last dialogue scene for sure. However, the movie does have two things going for it. One is the mall / department store setting. Not only is it quite eerie, but there's always that Dawn of the Dead factor where you just can't help but look around. A lot of chances to divert our attention away from the bad story and flat sense of style with big displays of dolls, mannequins, and sinister looking Christmas decorations. Not to mention those awesome glass elevators (just begging to stage a flashy, Argento-esque over-the-top murder in... alas, not in these movies). The other is the piece of music used for the end credits- the movie's theme song (I'd say). I have a real thing for twisted saxophone rock/dance instrumentals and this one has the added charm of being played in a kind of slow motion. Used in a better movie, this could have even generated some serious tension.

[nopersonality]

Chapter 104: The Slay's the Thing


Theater of Blood
(1973 / director: Douglas Hickox)

★★

I would never have seen this movie were it not for the addictive 60's AIP films starring Vincent Price. When you see something as amazing as The Masque of the Red Death after starting a series, you sort of find it hard to stop. Well... this is the 70's. And while the horror genre certainly reached a level of excellence in the 70's by changing, watching this film is a harsh reminder of how some change is not for the better. The 60's were radical enough, and clearly the AIP / Roger Corman-directed series of films weren't without their edgy moments and tension. Red Death was all about human cruelty and how we can view each other as nothing more than garbage to be disposed of rather than tolerating. Tower of London showed us an insane rebel madman in charge of sentencing others to death. And The Haunted Palace had its' gruesome moments, deciding to show us death and disfigurement instead of merely suggesting it. This included a very shocking (for its' time) death scene where a man is set on fire and screams as he burns. This all, for me at least, took care of the extremes that later British films starring Price as a horrible torturer (beginning with 1968's wretched, insufferably dull Witchfinder General) would go to. Though the trend was set with the crappily dramatic Witchfinder, it's said that the film was not popular. So, the British horror heads decided to try this nasty horror again... but with humor. This resulted in 1971's The Abominable Dr. Phibes, a film that mirrored Italy's Bay of Blood in that its' marketing campaign tried to draw in audiences with the promise of a large bodycount and brutal, graphic deaths. Apparently, that film (which after this, I've refused to see outright) was successful enough to spawn not only a sequel, but this copy as well.

Anyone else will tell you this film is genuinely funny. The first time I saw it, I was absolutely mortified and deeply offended. That was several years ago and now I have a cooler head. But there's no denying that this insanely nasty film is hateful. Comedy is often used as a mask by certain filmmakers to shield them from serious criticism of their jokes for not being just jokes. This movie tries to adopt a pose of good-natured "something to offend everyone" ribbing. But the way in which the characters are portrayed leaves no question that either the writer or the director really hate these people. To add further insult, people are shown to be worth killing for little more than being gay or fat. The only person targeted by the films' murderers who survives just happens to be the only one of his group who isn't bitchy, elderly, hypocritical, or physically unattractive in some way. What would you think if you were an actor being cast in a film to be murdered because the filmmakers saw you as ugly or old? Not only that, he's also the only character here who is capable of sympathizing with others. Wanting to care despite the characters' jobs as theater critics. So, the film can't claim it works on a "nothing is sacred" level. There is definitely nothing funny about killing two dogs and showing them being fed to someone. Hickox isn't even able to show the horror in their owner's face when he discovers the shocking truth. The film really is heartless (the sole redeeming quality of Witchfinder; it wasn't). And what should be worse is that you become numb to it on repeated viewing rather quickly. But... before it does become numbing, it is a remarkably strong film in terms of brutality (the first murder) and it is one of the sickest movies I've ever seen (the third murder, especially).

[nopersonality]

Chapter 142:
Do You Know Where Your Children Are?


Manhattan Baby
(1982 / director: Lucio Fulci)

★★

Ask any Fulci fan, and they will tell you this is his worst film. However, that is really overlooking (and overrating) his other 1982 abomination, the sadistic and misogynistic, toilet-dwelling The New York Ripper. Which would be the worst film on anyone's resume (and that's saying something). Initially when I watched this, it was my favorite of the director's films. And that's because... there are no trademark moments of huge, over-the-top gore scenes. As a fan of Peter Jackson's best work, I think you can tell that I'm in no way against splatter. It's the way Fulci did it that drove me up the wall. Either he didn't care about the quality of the effects or he couldn't afford better... and then he didn't care about that. Either way, I realized quickly after seeing my 2nd Fulci film (The Beyond) that the guy was a master of atmosphere. It would build up his movies to such a creepy level that it almost overrode the ultra-bad gore scenes (fake heads, fake eyeballs, fake throats- fake everything). For some fans, clearly it did. You may not believe there are hardcore Fulci fanatics out there (they've even coined the term, "Fulci Lives!" to compete with the famous "Elvis Lives" fanatics, which is well-known in cult film circles). For me, his low-quality splatter ruined the mood every time. And then it took forever for the movie to win me over again. The closest Manhattan Baby goes to crossing that line is an elevator scene that is obviously ripping off Damien: Omen II. A black man stuck inside starts panicking when the box gets stuck between floors and has to pry it open with his hands. It doesn't want to budge and so his fingers begin to get bloody after almost a minute (though this is gore-lite, it's still a nearly 2-minute sequence- Fulci doesn't do quick deaths). Oh, there's also a ridiculous thing at the end where stuffed birds peck a guy to pieces (but the raven attack scene in Argento's Opera is more graphic).

However, where Manhattan excels above the pack in tossing the needless gore, it actually manages to sink lower than most in terms of annoying or silly references to American culture (little leaguers, novelty toys / costumes, naming a character after scream queen Jamie Lee Curtis), cringe-worthy dialogue ("Shall do," Carlo De Mejo's agonizing "Hocus Pocus" raving, and the hilarious "lousy lesbian!"), and a truly stupid main plot which many have said rips off The Exorcist (probably its' 1977 sequel, The Heretic, as well) and takes a ton of things from Rosemary's Baby- character names (Adrian Marcato), the title, and the dream imagery (Rosemary at one point dreams she is sleeping on her actual bed but floating over a vast body of water, here a man sits in a chair in a room but the rest of the shot is not in the room but in the desert). Not only does the plot make no sense, but nobody could really care about the characters here. They're not outright unlikable but there's nothing likable about them either. Mostly because they're poorly dubbed and there is no attempt at character development. Not that any amount of character development could possibly smooth over Cosimo Cinieri's icky performance (looks like a demented Ramond Burr, had Burr spent 5 years of his life as a drunk in some back alley). No one has any personality. Beyond cliches. For example, the father goes blind and we're then treated to a scene where the mother calmly tells him, "don't be bitter." To which he responds, "that's easy for you to say. You're not blind!" Then he gets his sight back and... we realize it never mattered that he lost it. Speaking of strange scenes (and revisiting the theme of Fulci as a freaking weirdo), the little brother character at one point just walks up to his older sister and rips open her shirt. What happens next? She just stands there, in closeup (sort of looking at the camera), and toothily grins. Clearly, these are Europeans. In America, any girl would freak at this.

However, in typical Fulci fashion there are a lot of weird style choices and great shots. This is one of Fulci's most colorful movies. Shots glow in closeup with beautiful red (the lamp on Suzie's desk), blue (the laser emitted from the amulet's evil stone), and green (the energy-wave machine in the hospital) lights. There are very cool scenes featuring a photo slideshow of Egyptian artifacts and at an optician's office (with the father's eye being filtered though little colored lenses). The shots of the streets of New York outside the family's apartment (scored to a really cool saxophone number on the soundtrack, and I just have to say it again- I really love the saxophone in soundtracks) are stunning. In one scene, the mother and father are driving and as we watch them through the car's windshield, the buildings bend in reflection on the glass. The story is not about details as much as it is about the presence of the basic ideas (bodily possession- not how and why; evil amulet- not what it can do and why it does; attractive young woman goes missing- to Fulci, it doesn't matter what happens to her after that). But I like the basic ideas. Rooms filled with sand (Omen II again), light bulbs that explode for no reason, shots of a staircase cluttered with toys scored to an intense piece of music (yet, what is scary about this moment I do not know), holes of light shaped like doorways which are hazardous should anyone approach them. There are probably dozens of examples. The movie is one long series of tangents like these. And that doesn't save it, but it does help it become more watchable. I guess it's a good narrative shakeup compared to the stale old Fulci formula. Though this movie never really had a chance. The budget was slashed nearly in half when Fulci was preparing to shoot it and so, fans might argue the reason this copies music from The Beyond is to make up in some way for how bad it would be. Me? I've seen worse.

[nopersonality]

Chapter 137:
Wake Up on the Wrong Side of the Grave?


Ghoulies
(1985 / director: Luca Bercovici)

★

Did you know Law & Order: Special Victims Unit superstar Mariska Hargitay was in this movie? Or that square-jawed actor Peter Liapis looks pretty good without his shirt on? Or that the monster effects here were originally going to be done by Stan Winston (Pumpkinhead, Aliens, Jurassic Park)? The film's original title was going to be Beasties? Well, then you already know everything you need to know about the movie and I've spared you having to sit through it. Only once before have I known the pain of blandness this bad and I've mentioned it several times- The Church (1989). Well, move over Michey, there's a new sheriff of Yawn City. The acting isn't so bad you'll want to rip your eyeballs out... But the production values are. The dialogue is stiff and poorly structured. The actors are so miscast here, they've made an art of it. The music is bad. The score is lame (not surprisingly, it was done by Re-Animator composer and Empire Pictures' go-to guy, Richard Band- so it all makes sense). The special effects and creature puppets are so shoddily thrown together, they're almost nauseating for that reason alone. There is a dancing scene... oh yes, there is. And it's baaaaaaaad.

Just Before Dawn hottie Ralph Seymour puts in an appearence as an overdressed nerd paired with knockout Hargitay's ditzy party girl (and man, if she isn't The Worst Screamer in the History of the Horror Genre... I want to shake the hand of the woman who is, even if she's no longer with us), is given the nickname of "Toad Boy," and proceeds to screech out, "IiiiNeeeedSweeeeeetMeeetForMyTuuuummy!" Keith Joe Dick plays the casanova guy with a routine of calling himself "Dick" in an overly loud manner, hits on multple women (who are all shown as being receptive) and yet doesn't have a great body nor is that great-looking. There's a creepy groundskeeper character. Old, gray-haired, and has a serious staring problem. You won't care. There's a pair of midgets dressed like they missed auditions for The Beastmaster. And a pair of pot-smoking guys, one of whom gives off very gay vibes- so naturally, they end up (when everyone pairs off in couples and go off to be alone) together... smoking pot. And the awful plot revolves around one of those "snap out of it" / "you're becoming a completely different person and I don't like it!" cliches. Yet when she's at her angriest, she actually decides to start making eggs in the kitchen instead of walk out on her boyfriend.

I could go on... But the most important thing to convey here:

You have been warned.

[nopersonality]

Chapter 148: An Inferior Dynamic Duo


Tremors 2: Aftershocks
(1995 / director: S.S. Wilson)

★★

More than 5 years have passed since the original film and - though that film was sort of popular (theatrically, it grossed less than a 3rd of Arachnophobia's final take) - while a sequel was never out of the question, it was doomed to the fate of direct-to-video. And a potential franchise seemed ludicrous. But this was the 90's and technology was improving. So, I'm actually a little disheartened to have to report that this was the best era for CGI. Based on the promise that audiences would swallow anything made out of computers (and damn it, they pretty much have), the 1995 CGI boom is to blame for everything we've had to suffer since. For the most part, this film seems to know that obvous computer-generated images look like shit and so the filmmakers only use it for one or two key shots where they just don't have the time or money to build practical monsters able to do what they need the creatures to do. Now, I understand this dilemma. But if you have to rely on a bad computer effect to achieve this shot, it's not going to work no matter how hard you try. Time to think of something else. That's the deal with Tremors 2, there's good news and there's bad news. The good news is really good! It has an opening at least 10-times better than it needs. Unlike the first film, the credits begin with a playfully tense and downright witty piece of music that absolutely whip-cracked me into attention. It sets a mood so effective, so flauntingly hard to put your finger on, that it can now get away with any silly thing it wants to throw at us. I sincerely doubt the Ostrich Farm idea was actually clever, but who cares? That's how good this opening is. I didn't, I laughed anyway. As Friday the 13th proved, Kevin Bacon isn't a necessity for any wannabe franchise. So the movie brings back Fred Ward (with his bad Naked Gun 33 1/3rd scraggly long hair) and he really nails the role. When you see those nervy eyes in his frustrated-guy closeups, you know that with him in the driver's seat this will be a fun movie.

Now... here's the where the bad news comes in: someone involved in this movie feels Kevin Bacon was the thing that made the first movie work. This movie was working when it realized it didn't need to copy the first. Then... along comes Christopher Gartin. First thing out of my mouth when he got his initial closeup; "he's going to ruin this movie." And clearly his casting was a monumental mistake because he's the only main actor here who doesn't have film-acting talent. He's clearly TV and so sets this movie back, every word out of his mouth practically screams some random Urkel, Kimmy Gibler, or Rich Halke one-liner. He's desperately trying to steal the show and the filmmakers are trying to use him for comic relief. He's not funny- he's annoying. And we don't need him, we have The Amityville Horror's Helen Shaver- who would have made a much better substitute for Bacon. The movie wants it to be obvious that they were trying to replace him with Gartin (hear this, filmmakers: the only reason to cast a guy like this is for his body, so if he doesn't strip- hire a better actor!), so they give her a lousy scientist stereotype and instead of letting her kick ass (well... as much as the Val or Earl characters ever did), she ends up cowering in the corner (though she does have a great terror-face) or just helping the guys hold or move something. The story ideas are smart enough on their own and would have shined to maximum brightness had the movie given Shaver a bigger part and thrown out this completely idiotic sidekick character who should have died (because, let's face it, the film's bodycount is too low) and is only good for the single revelation that these new Graboids are dumber than the first batch. The amazing Michael Gross returns (though it's sad they couldn't get Reba McEntire to come back with him) and what little the movie does with him is great. But I refuse to give the movie credit for that when I know it's all-him.

Tremors 2 has most of the ingredients to be a really good horror movie and at the start, it is one. It's remarkably well-shot, the slow pacing is beautifully evocative (of what I don't know- probably the mood of the locations where they shot it; I was really loving this movie for the first 6 minutes... until Gartin opened his mouth), and again- that music. I should have known it had Jay Ferguson's (the brilliant composer of Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child and several equally impressive scores for Tales from the Crypt) fingerprints all over it. And it felt like it was really revving up to be, at least, a tense movie if not a scary one (which the original was not). Unfortunately, it's not just Gartin who deflates it. It's everyone. Basically, this is an action-adventure movie with a little sci-fi thrown in to guarantee it play on the USA Network. So... as an action-adventure movie, it's more than moderately entertaining. And the writing is surprisingly smart. In fact, cut Gartin out of the picture and the movie works almost brilliantly until just under the first hour. When it puts the idea in our heads that the new Graboids are smarter than the old, it comes dangerously close to becoming a Shocker (codework in horror-action-thrillers for: tipping the balance of power so far to the villains' favor that it milks the tormenting of the protagonists for the humor of it). Later, the Graboid Pyramid scene just snaps believability and is outright insulting to the audience. Though I'm sure they see this as just another harmless way to up the stakes, it's nothing more than a blatant action cue. "Okay... Run. NOW!" This works better during the end gag where Gross runs fast, anticipating the blast of his tank-load of explosives to be huge, finding his fellow comrades are way behind him and have no idea how big the ensuing boom will be. This sequel not only follows too closely in the footsteps of its predecessor but wastes its considerable cinematic potential with TV-quality terror. Actually, the whole thing felt like it was a pilot film for a future USA Network original series.

[nopersonality]

Chapter 51: It's Always the Quiet Ones


Deranged
(1972 / directors: Alan Ormsby and Jeff Gillen)

★★★

The 70's in horror are responsible for some of the worst modern trends in movies. From The Blair Witch Project stealing Cannibal Holocaust's "documentary of 3 people shooting a documentary" gimmick: it looks fake but it really happened (not!), to every single survival-horror movie borrowing The Texas Chainsaw Massacre's torturing of its' victims, to the trend of calling a movie that is a fictional account of things that really happened a true story. Well, before Chainsaw, there were two films from 1972 featuring the two latter of those; the true-story angle and victims of killers in dispair and being tortured before they died. The heavier of these is Wes Craven's The Last House on the Left. The lighter is Canada's answer to Psycho, the Ed Gein-based story, Deranged. Here named Ezra Cobb, Gein was also the basis for Chainsaw's Leatherface. I don't care much for true stories, if they just happen to be true so be it. This version of Gein is both fascinatingly played for humor and one of the creepiest characters in cinematic history. Roberts Blossom gives an incredible performance as retarded mama's boy Ezra with his bizarre gyrating lips, twisted mouth, and eyes always bulging out of his sockets- intensely fixated on trying to freeze the blood right in your veins as he stands there. The point of the movie is that Ezra doesn't need social skills to be good at what he does. Which is kill people. Though everyone at some point comments on how crazy (and they mean useless to himself) or ignorant he is (though they are mostly charmed by him), he is a lot more aware and intelligent than he lets on. The same as some people let their guard down with others when they're alone, Ezra shows his methodical, meticulous side with his victims. Where they underestimated him before as sweet and harmless, he turns out to be cunning and cold-blooded.

Director Alan Ormsby was a varitable do-it-all guy in Canadian horror. He acted and wrote (his debut was in pal Bob Clark's Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things), did special makeup effects (especially in Clark's Deathdream and Children again, as well as 1977's cult film Shock Waves), and producer, but as a director he didn't have much luck. After this movie, he started directing 1990's Popcorn but was Tobe Hooper'd (fired and replaced) off it midway. I'm not sure if that was the end of a brilliant career in the genre, but this film shows remarkable promise. Clark saw it and was very unhappy (he said it was too gory) but that was the early 70's. A time where grittiness actually enhanced the feeling of unease in psychological horror and was used for more than empty style. Deranged is a bitterly cold film, visually. Snow and dead trees, hard gray wooden boards, a lot of farm equipment (all sharp and hard-edged). With a very interesting music score. Unlike Carl Zittrer's almost invisible, wiry scores for Bob Clark's films which featured discordant, jabbing notes on the piano, this one has a real theme (like an echoing of the church organ that plays during the funeral scene) and in addition to the icy, atmospheric piano which makes its' way here too, some almost humorous woodwind instruments. This film won't teach you anything but it is fascinating that it shows us this fairly simplistic guy (he does have his moments of idiocy, especially in the first half of the movie) who meets several different types of people, some of whom are the exact type of people his dead, bible-thumping mother warned him to stay away from. After a short while, he adjusts to the shocking things about them he knows are wrong (drinking hard liquor, sex, gluttony). There are repeated references to vices. As well as changing social attitudes (the father generation hunts and the daughter generation - the son's girlfriend - thinks that's immoral).

The film doesn't have any true flaws (other than some really thick, fake looking bright red blood). But the sheer ugliness of it could be seen as wearing out its' welcome fairly fast. A climatic scene taking place at a dinner table is placed shortly after the 2nd half of the movie begins and features a bland character who would never see themselves in the role of a victim being molested (it does begin to drag the movie down a bit). This is the result of Ezra's mother basically not allowing him to leave her side (emotional blackmail and guilt most likely being the reasons for that) throughout her life until her death. Causing him to be aged in his very-late 40's by the time the movie starts. And that's just one of the things that makes this movie so unbelievably, spine-tinglingly creepy in its best moments. That and Blossom's eyes again. Which you notice as he stalks his victims through store windows and the window of his truck. This is the definitive creeper horror movie. We aren't given a specified exact age for Ezra but he looks as old as his dying mother. So, this could be seen as the horror movie for anyone who was scared by old people as a kid. Or, the religious value of sexual repression could be seen as the evil here. Or, the easy and free availability of weapons (knives for fishing, rifles for hunting) so that anyone could get ahold of them. Or, perhaps scariest of all- the things that lead Ezra to kill could all be circumstantial. I suspect they are. Such as the death-by-human-legbone scene might suggest. Here's a weapon he gets from someone who (probably; we never know whose corpse it comes from) died before he went on his killing spree. Deranged is a brilliant horror film, tensely shot and marvelously acted by the entire cast. With heart-stopping moments of terror (the bear trap scene) and some surprising moments of hilarity; "I apologize for callin' you a hog, Mama."

[nopersonality]

Chapter 27: One of the Boys


Near Dark
(1987 / director: Kathryn Bigelow)

★★½

In the museum of 80's vampire films, there are few that stand out as cult classics. The ones that do are each for different crowds. Quentin Tarantino (a man with an eye for cult films) has a thing for 86's Vamp, the drinking-man's vampire film. The decade's premiere and quintessential vampire film is clearly Fright Night, which is the thinking man's vampire film. The Hunger is the vampire film for those of the rainbow persuasion. And The Lost Boys is the vampire film for the masses. But there's much stiffer competition for the title of The Drinking Man's Vampire Film (wouldn't you know?) than the other categories. And though Vamp would probably require bar-room toughguys to drink more (which I'm sure they're not opposed to) in order to find Grace Jones sexy and not emasculating, 1987's Near Dark has a cute little blonde chick who can bring all the boys to the yard. And they show her hanging out with cowboys (and in fact, closely resembling one herself), crude little kids who swear and smoke, trenchcoat-rocking badasses (Lance Henriksen is no poor-man's Clint Eastwood, he's the real deal) who brag about being a war hero, and other chicks who are even more sexually flaunting than she is. So, clearly the fantasy here is that this girl has a lot to offer the movie's target audience- most of whom probably see themselves as the main character, Caleb. A guy with not a lot going on. Since it's 1987, he's a newly-turned vampire who wants out of the club immediately. But unlike the other whiny guys who can't quite bring themselves to take lives, well... he is owned by the person who turned him- blondie. And she wants to ease him into the new lifestyle. So while other irresponsible jerks just take off and leave their new member (almost always a man) going through withdrawal, she's around to answer all his questions about what's happening to him. And does so, sensitively.

Now... Near Dark had almost all the potential it needed and was poised to become the Starman of the vampire horror subgenre. It has the heart and the soul. In fact, for a movie about mostly heroic or likable characters viciously killing people in cold blood, it may have a little too much heart. It's not exactly a moral hypocrisy that's the problem here. It's the conflict between being a great art film and an effective crowd-pleaser. It is a crowd-pleaser. For being such a little-seen and nearly unheard-of film (without Bravo's 100 Scariest Movie Moments, I would never have connected this movie to the 2-Disc Anchor Bay DVD I had previously seen, sitting practically untouched in Wal-Mart), its cult status is quite accurate in describing the movie's appeal. As an art film, however, its ambition is to mix the horror genre with westerns. And most of the time, that's all it does: a rebel RV, van, and car-jacking vampire crew versus bikers, truckers, and cowgirls (and a couple boys) in bars and on lonely roads. It's so modern and 80's that you don't really notice it's trying to be old-fashioned. The only time it ever feels like an art film is when Jenny Wright is trying to illuminate for us what it's like to live entirely at night with the power to be able to hear it as though it were a spiritual entity. She says, "do you hear it? It's deafening" and, "it's so bright, it'll blind you." And visually, for a movie about characters that have to stay out of the sun to survive, the darkness is very imposing and in our faces. On the audio front, we have the benefit of Tangerine Dream doing the music who had previously done the amazingly ethereal scores to 1983's Risky Business and 1984's Firestarter. Their work here is even more haunting, though noticeably less pastoral and watery. Truly the perfect artists to help the film capture the fantasy of its' premise- the timeless, ageless romanticism of being a vampire.

Which here is not about being a creature of the night. Or even about immortality itself (which often seriously weighs down most other vampire films). Instead, it's about the freedom to do whatever you want. Whenever you want. Immortality is nothing more than a perk most of the time. Other times, it becomes a curse. And that's basically where this film begins. The characters who are used to being a vampire choose to stay one because that's what they're used to and the ones who have recently been turned or are targeted to become turned choose to fight back or abandon the gang. So that would seem to be the point to the movie, that there is a great attraction to play with the up-all-night lifestyle but it's not something you want to be stuck with. There is also a real Wizard of Oz, there's-no-place-like-home theme. If the very dull Caleb hasn't made it plain that he wants to go home by wailing it several times, the fact that his family (equally boring father and kid sister) are on the road looking for him surely will. But Caleb sure looks all grown-up and would be a far more interesting character if he really felt like he needed something to reach out into the darkness to find. At the beginning, he wishes he were a thousand miles away from his home. Well, he gets his wish and stubbornly refuses to accept it until he's on his hands and knees, begging for blondie Mae to give him a fix. The movie's vampire gang isn't very good at making his alternative to small-town life look exciting (beyond incessant one-liners and lots of hooting and hollering) and his homelife is the kind of thing everyone spends their life trying to escape from. Therefore, Near Dark is a more-than-adequate action film (I won't even mention Bill Paxton's character) but an incomplete fantasy. I think we already have enough action films. This one was en-route to being something special but director Bigelow just wants to prove she's one of the guys.

[nopersonality]

Chapter 31: Only a Mother Could Love


It's Alive
(1973 / director: Larry Cohen)

★★★

Many film scholars have chosen to interpret Larry Cohen's single moment of mainstream success, It's Alive, as a parable about all kinds of things. Some of these ideas are warranted, and Cohen isn't the type of person to discourage people from reading too much into his movies. But a movie about parental fear their baby will become gay? Not even close. Nor is this any kind of precursor to something like 1985's Mask, where the child born deformed is simply misunderstood. What It's Alive really is is a well-shot, well-acted, and cleverly devised schlock "picture" (an old-fashioned term to go along with a movie that is definitely a product of its' time) with a bare minimum of social relevance. It goes over the top. Even the trailer can't resist trying to William Castle-up the proceedings. The film plays sensationalistically and builds to cheap visual gags and obvious shock scenes (just look at the expression on Daniel Holzman's face when he first sees his younger brother), with the once mighty composer of Psycho, Bernard Herrmann, doing some silly old private-eye mystery thriller score with lots of boisterously loud horns and symbols and transposes it here. It's a movie about a pretty good Rick Baker (An American Werewolf in London, Videodrome) puppet (aka- mutant killer baby) leaping at the camera in blurry closeups and then cut to another scene which then cuts back later to a dead body lying in the bushes somewhere with bloody neck and some skin torn up.

As for hidden meanings, Cohen has admitted that the movie is about the merits of abortion. While the story focuses mostly on the parents' social struggle to try and maintain their life after their baby is born a mutant who attacks anyone it comes across (that is- anyone it isn't related to). They're hounded by the media and reporters and devious journalists and scientists and doctors and cops and TV crews and radio stations and... anyone they come across. The whole world is against them. And this leads mother Sharon Farrell (pre- her embarrassing c*nt of a mother in the awful opening to 1984's Night of the Comet) to go a bit cuckoo, spend her nights laughing hysterically at Road Runner cartoons, and flutter around the house in her nightgowns inviting strange people in suits to have dinner with them. When the movie starts to get boring (which it does a lot), her unbelievably committed (no pun intended) descent into screeching, twitch-eyed madness keeps it going, as does the occasional Herrmann segue into an intentionally saccharine string piece (which would compliment the sequel's beautiful opening credits set against the waves of a swimming pool very nicely). Knowing Cohen is a real lefty at heart is also good. He's not afraid to lay some smack down on the drug and pharmaceutical industry either; once news of "The Davis Baby" goes public, they take steps to make sure the baby's deformity can't be traced back to the birth control medicine they gave her.

Best of all is really how the film plays the no-one-ever-knows-what's-happening card with the anarchy of blame falling on not just pills but pollution, genetic predisposition, lead posioning... everything but the forces of good and evil. Refreshingly, the film never gets religious on us (Cohen saved all that for his next horror film, 1976's ultra-bizarre God Told Me To). Everything else is fair game. Other than Farrell's freak-outs, the film's best scene is an extended conversation between a pack of expectant fathers discussing current events. None of them have anything nice to say, one tries to stir his coffee with a pencil and is too wary of what it might do to him to drink it, and eventually - though he has to go calm down another nervous daddy-to-be - the father of the mutant baby can't fake a smile anymore and has to excuse himself from the room (since this is before the famous delivery room massacre aftermath scene, he's just nervous because he thinks this delivery is taking too long). Being a product of its time, much of the former shock of It's Alive has completely drained from it. Some take it very seriously and hail it an important social critique. But it's just too schlocky to stand up to thorough scrutiny. While no remake could surpass it (just because they can't even surpass each other), the original could have been made differently. A little more onscreen gore wouldn't have hurt. Maybe an overhaul in the music department to make the long exploration scenes a little creepier.

[nopersonality]

Chapter 88:
Invalids, Witches, and Chimps- Oh My!


Monkey Shines
(1988 / director: George A. Romero)

★

Every major horror director has that moment where they fall and fall hard. And afterward, they aren't quite able to pick themsevles up again. Carpenter did it with Christine. Argento did it with Phantom of the Opera. Tobe Hooper did it with Lifeforce. And Cronenberg did it multiple times. For Romero, Day of the Dead was his The Thing- a heavily flawed and uncompromising work that took time to build a cult audience. But it was also a sign that he was about to make his Chrstine with 1988's quite dumb and confusingly emotional snoozer, Monkey Shines. The epic story of one man who has his entire life destroyed when he gets hit by a truck. See, he was an athlete and had the perfect girlfriend and was on his way to victory and... blah blah blah. When they play up something like this to such ridiculous heights- it's like a joke. A Lifetime TV movie-of-the-week. And the only reason a director with Romero's kind of smarts would have for doing this is to satirize it. So... okay. We the audience are now ready for some hard-hitting satire. Where is it? It's not here. Romero is taking this seriously. But like a Lifetime TV-movie, it's also incredibly flat and dull in every way. The music score is terrible. Visually, there's almost nothing interesting to look at (except, that is, for Jason Beghe's very buff and often almost-nude bod from nearly every angle you can think of... and then later, Stanley Tucci's surprisingly wow-worthy physique). And the non-technical dialogue is a nightmare (especially John Pankow's bitter "clinical" insult stream of nonsense). For almost 2-hours of this and no punchline, it's downright agonizing.

To make up for the fact that this movie's killer monkey is about as scary as a flying Pez dispenser, Romero tries to milk tension from his athlete's paranoid delusions about God and The Devil (a theory which couldn't possibly have less to do with what's actually going on here) fed to him by his insane, witchy nurse (played by Romero's wife to be the most unflattering, ugly woman you'll ever see in any movie whose face isn't disfigured) and then from his non-relationship with his nutty and completely clueless hag of a mother (who is also made to be painfully ugly and horrid to have to look at). The mother and the nurse take turns treating him like a baby. The nurse puts his watered-down alcohol in a child's Sippy Cup, the mother talks to him like an idiot and in the most annoying high-pitched, 1950's TV-mother voice you've ever heard. Later on, both show signs of jealousy when another caregiver figure shows up to take care of the wheelchair-bound athlete. When the monkey becomes the surrogate nurse (and then, boots her ass out to become the full-time nurse), witchy lady throws a holy-royal hissyfit that literally lasts at least 15 minutes and spans nearly 4 entire scenes of monotoned, mindless ranting. The mother then replaces the witch-nurse and seems to be playing the mother from hell. Then when the monkey's sweet owner Melanie becomes the athlete's new girlfriend, the mother gets so pissy about that that you realize Melanie isn't the movie's surrogate mother to replace the real one- she's the surrogate WIFE! This movie is actually now stepping into Freudian implications of an incestuous motivation for the mother's role.

Then, we've got the monkey. Who falls in love with her user and kills either to defend him or isolate him from others so she can have him to herself. What's scary about that? Conceptually? Psychologically, this movie is as inept as they come. The idea of a razor-wielding chimp could at least bring us a little fun, right? Negative. The mayhem in the movie is mostly committed with needles and involves several accidental falls as well as a lame electrocution scene. A monkey is a monkey. If you think she's cute, you won't stop thinking she's cute when she's pissing on someone or batting at people with a clothes-hanger. This film is just an utter failure on almost every level. There's a little cool but short-lived demented flute moment in the score and a very strange sequence where the sky goes Ghostbusters on us with freaky, huge, sinister billowing green clouds and inside the location, the mad medical researcher's laboratory is bathed in brilliant red light (which is never a bad thing). Something tells me had this movie stuck to the lab work, Romero could have made up for how awful Day of the Dead's mad science was. Because there is some fascinating biological stuff buried here. And... oh my God, the movie's human villain (the brilliant Stephen Root, who plays a chilling animal mutilator and college professor) - who only gets 3 minutes screentime max - is better than the monster. As it stands, Monkey Shines is a terrible cross between The Brood (telepathic monster who kills when provoked by the anger of the human it's connected with) and the already miserable Christine.

If only they had tried to go the Child's Play route instead and their killer-monkey had looked like this:

Oh, and don't get any ideas. The music you hear in this trailer isn't anywhere to be found in the film.