Evil Cats! 😼

Evil Cats. MeowMeowMeow!

By Kristin Battestella

Our cats are avid television watchers, and the sounds and visuals of this feline horror trio amused them as much as me.

The Cat Creature – Amulets, mummies, an empty sarcophagus, and black cats combine for a Val Lewton-esque mood in this 1973 ABC TV movie written by Robert Bloch (The House That Dripped Blood) starring Meredith Baxter (The Invasion of Carol Enders). Retro cars and cool California villas provide hieroglyphics, Egyptian motifs, and eerie crescendos as lawyers assessing the deceased's creepy manor survey kooky antiques and looted collections. Though slow to start, the subdued palette invokes a black and white feeling that highlights the golden statuary and colorful artifacts. Spiral stairs, flashlights, shadows, and feline silhouettes are well done alongside glowing eyes, mesmerized victims, meowing, and hooting owls. A shady “sorcerer's shop” procures creepy skulls and masks, but the ominous Miss Black proprietor has already crossed paths with this crusty police lieutenant and knows to turn away our stolen talisman. The ingenue walking home alone at night, however, encounters kitten deceptions, hisses, and screams. The cops call in archaeology professor David Hedison (Live and Let Die) to assess the missing mummy bones, scratched out Bast symbols, jewel thieves, and human sacrifices said to give eternal life and transformative cat powers. Flirtations lead to an affinity for Egyptology – but not for the alley cats accumulating at the door. Disbelievers mock the Book of Toth mysticism and the coroner's hair evidence claiming a domestic cat is responsible for draining the blood of the victims, but our professor theorizes on why disparate cultures all have shape-shifting folklore and warns of Ancient Egyptians knowing more of the supernatural and science than we can fathom. The amulet clues, grounded investigation, and eerie explanations don't talk down to the audience. Certainly the solution is obvious before the finale, but the creepy guest stars, stylish witchy vibes, and tarot cards make for a fun time with well paced deaths, thefts, and twists. We know there's an evil cat in the room when the lights go out, and the spooky climax does a little with a lot. This was better than I expected thanks to a mature, even sympathetic approach and dedicated throwback horror atmosphere.

Two Evil Eyes – George A. Romero (Creepshow) and Dario Argento (Phenomena) tackle two contemporary Poe adaptations in this 1990 Italian co-production featuring Adrienne Barbeau (The Fog), Harvey Keitel (The Piano), John Amos (The Beastmaster), and more familiar faces. Lawyers are reluctant to accept the iffy signature of our eponymous hospice husband granting his former flight attendant wife cash access in Romero's “The Facts in the Case of Mr. Valdemar” but she has the cigarettes, big eighties sunglasses, and shoulder pads to get her way. There's a tinge of guilt, however, as her doctor lover enjoys keeping Valdemar in a state of subconscious hypnosis – attached to metronomes and monitors in a suggestive, aware state. The eerie Tudor manor and Old World wrought iron spiral stairs contrast the beeping machinery; arguments over the morbid stasis and moments of painful clarity disrupt the distrustful dalliances. Technicalities about the thievery and the timing on the paperwork versus the flatlining equipment begat the rush to preserve the cadaver in the freezer – with the food! Mixing pills, booze, and self-hypnosis where no one else can wake you lead to backstabbings over the cash, hastily dug graves, and moaning from inside said freezer. The not so deceased croaks of souls from beyond the grave as storms, gunshots, splatter, and restless spirits give the police a gory resolution. The cops in Argento's “The Black Cat,” however, are gagging at the nude body cut in half while our photographer snaps away to capture the swinging pendulum. Unfortunately, the titular stray taken in by his girlfriend interferes in the red dark room process. Scratching and hissing jars with her classical music, and she warn him cats remember their past persecutions and medieval injustices. The uncooperative four legged model dislikes the rough portrait poses and goes “missing” while drinking and violence conjure a hazy dream from the middle ages with bonfires, singsong rituals, and strung up victims. Chases, cleavers, lookalike cats, noose symbols, and fatalities mount as the demented artiste's disturbing photography book hits the shelves. Hellish bars, catholic touches, and living in sin judgments add to the sociopathic suggestions. Police inquire if he tortured the cat for his art and neighbors knock on the door over the meowing, pick axes, and stench behind the wall. Although this feels a little long or unevenly paced and superfluous rather than taut when deviating from the cat comeuppance, the intense finale brings the prophetic feline justice to the forefront for fans of cast, crew, and Poe.

The Uncanny – Eccentric writer Peter Cushing (Curse of Frankenstein) warns Montreal publisher Ray Milland (The Premature Burial) of felines run amok in this eighty-eight minute 1977 anthology. The expose he's written on cats has him looking over his shoulder at every rattling trash can, meow, and black cat at the gate before side eyeing a fluffy, pampered cat named Sugar. The cat cinematography is well filmed with zooms, pet points of view, up close eyes, and purring as our First London 1912 Tale looks the antiqued, lace part. The lady of the manor's cats are everywhere, and she intends to leave everything to her pride. The greedy maid, however, is caught stealing the will – leading to disturbing smotherings, death throes, screams, and hissing. The kitty siege begats swats, scratches, and blood as the feline assembly and our trapped maid each grow hungry. The reactions, animal action, quick cuts, and frenetic attacks are very well done indeed considering there are seemingly dozens of cats accented by cries, howls, chirps, and trills. A recently orphaned girl and her black cat named Wellington move in with her snooty relatives in the contemporary Quebec Tale Two, but her snobby, jealous, violent cousin blames Wellington for spills and mishaps so her parents will get rid of him. Our charge insists that cats can talk – it just takes a long time to understand them. Fortunately, she has kept her deceased mother's books on the occult and uses the pentagrams and spells for a slightly humorous, if tiny, but chilling turnabout. Donald Pleasence's (Prince of Darkness) Thirties Hollywood Third Story blurs on set and behind the camera as a real pendulum in scene slices one half of our off screen couple amid medieval torches, racks, and iron maidens. It's dismissed as a props mistake as production resumes with our late wife's younger, lookalike understudy, but the deceased's cat objects to the mistress taking over the Art Deco manor, furs, and roadsters. Once they flush her kittens (!), our vengeful mother creates real danger on Dungeon of Horror. They try to trap her in terrible ways complete with all the cat got your tongue puns, however the farce can't outwit the justified feline. Although this humorous third tale should have been first and the more macabre Edwardian tale last, self-aware winks know not to take the subject matter too seriously without interfering in the effective unease. The soon to be Grand Moff Tarkin insists cats are devils in disguise making sure we behave, yet these ironic stories show the terrors of what cats might do only in reaction to cruel people deserving of such consequences.

Fiery 80s Chillers 🔥

 

Fiery 80s Chillers! 🔥

by Kristin Battestella

These early eighties frights mix fire, brimstone, kills, and chills for nostalgic entertainment, bemusement, and scary extremes.

Don't Go in the House – Rumbling fires, intense heat, garbage incinerators, and dangerous explosions set the fiery mood for this 1980 psychological chiller. Askew angles, shabby wallpaper, and a sullied manor in disrepair carry disturbing childhood echoes while natural sounds made sinister and simple things like lighting the pilot light or longing looks over the matches create characterization. Time is taken for silent gasps, repeated screams, and hearing voices. Our dead mother won't wake up, and her adult son is finally able to play the groovy music as loud as he wants, toss the doilies aside, and put his feet on the furniture. The juvenile bedroom is too small, and the pathetic slow burn escalates to creepy flashbacks of being held over the flame. Mom enjoyed taking out the man leaving on her boy and burning the evil out of him. Today movies are always so up up up without this shock and relief roller coaster to tug our feelings. The old fashioned holding down the receiver lulls us with careful anticipation and pleas before disturbing gear, flame retardant suits, and gasoline lead to blunt violence, chains, and brutal screams. It's cold outside, everyone is bundled up, and the car won't start, but it's always the quiet, regular guy that no one suspects who has fireproof rooms to stash a dead body or two. The voices and imagined specters are off kilter but not in your face jump shocks while fiery dreams, orange flames, and blue accents add to the detached state of mind and symbolic stairs. There's no elaborate snapping scene, just a downward spiral into madness. A phone call from a co-worker represents the tangible outside world, but the torched bodies don't listen when they are spoken to, kissed, or slapped. Women are evil and homoerotic undertones layer the script before a cathartic moment of solace in going to church for holy water to put out the flames. Religion both caused his guilt yet could still purify all, but a night out at the disco leads to flashing lights, smoke, red dresses, boobs, and babes as the sin comes full circle. Ticking clocks, zooms, and giggling girls make for a fiery finale focusing on the internal torment rather than a set piece spectacle, and this realistic horror in the home does the mirror to nature that quality horror should.

Hell Night – Bonfires, groovy tunes, pranks, parties, and wet t-shirts are rad fun in this 1981 college slasher starring Linda Blair (The Exorcist). Suave eighties dudes match the sideways ponytails, ye olde costumes, vintage cars, and Quaaludes before pledges must stay the night in an abandoned manor with killer history and murderous mongoloids. The frat boys have set up the scares and spooky stunts, grossing out the crowd with tales of monstrous births and fireplace poker bludgeons, and it's fun to have this campfire telling format rather than the contemporary herky jerky strobe flashback snippets and fall backs. Rumors of missing relatives and not all the bodies being found frighten our plebs while candles, gothic gates, and gargoyles provide a dash of period piece atmosphere. The nostalgic excess is somewhat tame these days, however the whiff of classism adds thematic weight as the poor kids make deals to fit in and the rich kids bemoan the forced fraternities and family legacies. Scream sound effects, audible groans, ghostly overlays, rattling chains, and secret speakers build up the fake frights, but tunnels under the house, hidden passages, creepy hands, and swinging axes leave heads rolling. It is bemusing when the fun house phony and the real scares aren't so discernible now because both are dated effects, but skeletons jump out of the closet and even snakes in a can make an appearance. Although hammy, of the time dialogue occasionally hampers the unseen ominous and the self aware running gags can be uneven, the blood and snapping necks build suspense. Hedge mazes, saucy silhouettes, red lingerie, voyeuristic angles, and gory cuts accent the chills when our killer approaches the bed for under the covers shockers. The on edge escalates with perilous climbs over those spiky gates and a reluctant return inside to search for those missing. The foreboding house is only seen at night, and the police won't help during the titular, notorious prank week either. Repeat chases go on a little long, the low body count is spread thin, and the literal key to escape is there the entire time. Fortunately, for every stupid – like walking into a police station and leaving with a loaded rifle no problem whatsoever – there's a chilling approach in the dark leading to cobwebs, rats, corpses, and horror. This could have been a little better and the inadvertent humor can make or break a viewing today depending on your mood, yet this remains a fun late night October romp.

Invitation to Hell – Transplanted mid-westerners Joanna Cassidy (Blade Runner) and Robert Urich (Spenser: For Hire) must keep up with the Joneses and join Susan Lucci's (All My Children) suburban country club cult in this 1984 television movie directed by Wes Craven (A Nightmare on Elm Street). Red pantsuits, big hair, bemusing yet disturbing car accidents, and smoking revenge provide sinister style before the vintage station wagon driving montage complete with all the new job and familial exposition. Giant computers, shiny high tech buildings, big gadgets, flashing light panels, and space suits are now retro futuristic to match the payphones, record player, ten inch boob tube, and old school buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken. However this science fiction meets traditional horror format allows time to know the realistic couple – a hardworking but absentee father in cutthroat research and development and the previously meek, stressed wife ready to hob nob with these luxury friends after years of struggling. Familiar faces accent the posh spa robes, ominous fog, exclusive ancient springs, and upscale occult for the Reagan era, but the secretary telling secrets gets replaced and divisive vixens tempt our couple with wealth, power, and pleasure in an intriguing underlying commentary on corporations and peer pressure. Encouraging the wife and kids to join the club without dad leads to sultry Stepford knives in the kitchen, dog reactions, growling children, and a redesign of their gothic villa into some ugly, severe mod thing. Fortunately, the worst pets in peril and fatal runs off the road are told rather than seen; the fantastical elements accent the people in turmoil in an otherwise grounded story veiled with patriarchal symbolism, good versus bad families, and who's a loser if he's not in with the in crowd. That experimental space suit is also convenient at the cult Halloween party amid villains dressed as Nazis, devilish deceptions, and feisty titular imagery. Music and screams from the depths below anchor visuals that do a lot with very little – although the brief neon reverse negative switch and easy destructive end are...unfortunate. Viewers have to expect these movie of the week scares are just dated fun. I mean, If you can't appreciate a spacesuit that labels Susan Lucci as a “non-human malignant” named Jessica Jones that's on you. Thankfully, the personal connections being the power to overcome evil are more important here.

Bonus Documentary!

In Search of Darkness: Part II The Journey into 80s Horror Continues – This 2021 Shudder follow up focuses on slightly obscure and international eighties horror via four hours more of genre scholars and fan favorites such as Clancy Brown, Nancy Allen, Linnea Quigley, Tom Savini, and Robert Englund. The stars discuss falling in love with Universal Horror, Hammer, Hitchcock, and what influences scared them amid yearly recollections of Dario Argento, Tenebrae, and Giallo Horror's disturbing intimacy. Depraved, rapacious shockers like Mother's Day and Humanoids of the Deep would not be made today, yet the demented social commentary, fear, and violence rise above terrible dubbing for universal appeal. Colorful sensory effects, effective blood, and memorable shockers cause cinema walkouts and hateful reactions as the genre pushes the envelope too far with misogyny and Asian stereotypes. Dead & Buried and Dressed to Kill prove the acting, versatility, emotions, and A list stars remain impressive – called upon to be humorous, in fear, and credible amid the slashers and Cannibal Holocaust extremes. More statements come with The Being, The Keep, The Bride, and A Nightmare on Elm Street 2 while child protagonists in peril as in Cujo contrast the preposterous or endearingly absurd and franchise sequels or parodies like Saturday the 14^th. Multi genre explorations provide high artistry, laughter, and low thrills – nudity, meta, and screams thanks to The Black Cat, Terror in the Aisles, House, Little Shop of Horrors, and Demons. Unfortunately, censorship, UK video nasty stigmas, and fickle Hollywood tastes left sequels unmade and original scripts turned into unrecognizable clones and bad camp like Ghoulies. However, Prom Night II doesn't apologize for its own sexuality, and Robert Englund is aware of the goofy, ironic toys made of nasty Fred Krueger as merchandising and video games advance alongside clever effects and experimentation seen Waxwork, Night of the Demons, and John Carpenter's Prince of Darkness. Beetlejuice brings the wild fun mainstream, yet by 1989 there's room for new filmmakers like Peter Jackson and Bad Taste. Character studies that get under your skin like Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer continue to resonate with vicarious viewers and horror makers. In today's snarky tone, the segments allowing for stars to talk about themselves would appear self serving, but here it's wonderful for them to see the impact of their work and hear their reflections. While at times perhaps too obscure, die hard genre fans can laugh at the low budget creature features nostalgia and celebrate the forgotten sleepers, cult favorites, and gory highlights.

Retro Horror Girl Power!

Retro Horror Girl Power

by Kristin Battestella

Gather the girlfriends 'round and go back thirty years or more for this batch of foreign and domestic chillers steeped in murderous sisterhood, paranormal dames, and sexist serial killers.

Alice, Sweet Alice – Frantic Hail Marys, church bells, rectories, and crosses in nearly every scene steep this 1976 slasher in layers of iconography alongside matching yellow jackets, similarly named long hair lookalikes, sisterly favoritism, and saint versus sinner parallels. Little Brooke Shields (Suddenly Susan) is fond of her priest, goes to confession, and is gifted with a crucifix necklace while twelve year old Paula Sheppard (Liquid Sky) wears a mask to scare the cook. The ceremonial crown, veil, and white dress feel medieval bridal amid the Latin sanctity and old fashioned Sunday best formality – composed women in hats, gloves, pearls, and Jackie O suits are soon hysterical once murder blasphemes the sacred within its very walls. Creepy hints of the strangling attack, feet dragging beneath the pews, and a charred fate intercut the kneeling at the altar and passing wafer, turning the white confirmation into a black funeral. The uptight roosts point fingers, cast blame, and belittle husbands, but the parents are also too busy to notice the gluttonous downstairs neighbor obsessed with cats promising not to bite Alice if she visits him. Out of wedlock, divorced, and remarried taboos squabble while hidden periods and no long playing with dolls maturity layer the well done shocks and mask scares. Intense lie detector tests, cold yes or no questions, and scary needle movements add atmosphere along with thunderstorms, bugs, and basement hideaways. This murder acerbates a preexisting family strain, and such repressed attitudes would almost rather there be a grief approved death than admit to potential schizophrenia problems. Retro cameras, typewriters, big phone booths, classic cars, old school police, and formal psychiatrist interviews reiterate the mid-century rigid while prank calls, cramped stairs, and penetrating stabs invoke a frenzied response with violent twists. Do some of the victims get what they deserve? Confessions, warped revelations, mother madonna saintly and magdalene whore shaming cloud the case, and the children pay for the sins of the father indeed. This is a taut little thriller with fine scares, mystery, and parables made horror.

The Hearse – Divorced teacher Trish Van Devere (The Changeling) deals with nosy realtor Joseph Cotten (Citizen Kane) not to mention ominous headlights, dark roads, phantom winds, visions in the mirror, and a freaky uniformed chauffeur in this 1980 spooky. There is an initial proto-Lifetime movie feeling and the picturesque Golden Gate Bridge vistas remain just another driving to the horrors montage as our jittery dame heads to the recently bequeathed home of her late aunt for the summer. The Blackford neighbors, however, are unwelcoming gossips, and the minister says any standoffishness must be her imagination. Of course, her shorts are very short and despite a flirtatious sheriff, cat calls while jogging, and compliments about the resemblance to her aunt, all the men must help her roadside and make women driving jokes while doing so. Those trees just jump out into the road! Thanks to whispers of past pacts with Satan, they don't expect her to stick around long, either. The then-edgy music knows when to be quiet, adding to the isolation, crickets, and woman alone creepy. Covered antiques, leftover fashions, period pictures, and attic relics invoke a museum mood – an intrusion by the living justifying the faulty electric, slamming doors, creaking stairs, rattling pipes, and ghostly faces in the window. A music box plays on its own while a mysterious necklace, ironic radio sermons, and the titular highway pursuits escalate along with footsteps, intruders, and shattering glass. The tracking camera pans about the house in an ambiguous move that's both for effect and someone – or something – approaching. Likewise, reading the diary of her devil worshiping aunt alongside a new whirlwind but suspicious romance creates dual suspense – which can certainly be said for that Hearse when it pulls up to the front porch and opens its back door. The black vehicle, white nightgown, and choice reds increase with candles, coffins, and funerary dreams. Pills and long cigarette drags visualize nerves amid bridge accidents, disappearing bodies, rowdy town vandals, and gaslighting decoys. The solo reading aloud and talking to oneself scenes will be slow to some viewers, and at times the car action is hokey. The mystery can be obvious – it feels like we've seen this plot before – yet the story isn't always clear with low, double talk dialogue. However, it's easy to suspect what is real with interesting twists in the final act, and the adult cast is pleasing. Well done clues keep the guessing fun, and several genuine jump moments make for a spirited midnight viewing.

Phenomena – Jennifer Connolly (Labyrinth) and Donald Pleasence (Halloween) star in this 1985 Italian production from director Dario Argento along with Walkmans, a giant computer, overhead projectors, retro school buses, huge headphones, big boob tube TVs, off the shoulder sweatshirts, and crimped hair. The horseshoe phones are so hefty one breaks through the floor when it falls, and top heavy metal names such as Iron Maiden anchor the score. Pretty but bleak Swiss scenery, foreboding roads, suspicious chains, and an isolated cabin speak for themselves with blood, shattered glass, cave perils, scissor attacks, and strangling violence contrasting the rural vistas and scenic waterfalls. The on the move camera tracks the scares, panning with the staircases, chases, and penetrating knives rather than hectic visuals working against the action – leaving heartbeats, ticking clocks, and rage music to pulse the frenetic dreams. Congested tunnels, dark water, and rotting heads build tension alongside sleepwalking shadows, blue lighting schemes, and saintly white symbolism. Insects, monkeys, and bizarre medical tests collide with missing teens, amnesia, and an old school sense of being lost in the foreign unknown. Despite the young protagonist, the horror remains R without being juvenile or nasty. Although necrophilia and rape are implied amid girls in short shirts, dirty old men, and killer penetrations, the innuendo isn't like today's overt teen T-n-A exploitation. Doctors and a strict headmistress suspect epilepsy, schizophrenia, or drugs before the otherworldly but friendly communication with animals – cruel schoolmates and religious extremists view such talents or swarming commands as demonic rather than embracing the literal fly on the wall fantastics. Would you follow bugs to the scene of the crime to see the decomposing victim through their eyes? The notion to be in tune with nature and commune with insects as allies is unique in a genre usually reserving such crawlies for scares, and cool bug eye viewpoints, covered mirrors, freaky dolls, and maggots accent the deceptions, twists, and escalating revelations for some gruesome surprises and a wild finish. And oh my gosh there is a classmate wearing a Bee Gees t-shirt. Want it!!

Tenebre – Onscreen book pages set the deadly state of mind for this 1982 Argento thriller as retro airports, phone booths, jealous dames in furs, and saucy innuendo give way to duty free shoplifting, vagrants, and daytime assaults – building intrigue that is both crime thriller and horror with killer vignettes, gore, and bizarre scenery. Pages shoved in the victim's mouths add warped personality as reporters cry sexism and cheap thrills inspired by the manuscript. Stylish nudity and slasher voyeurism raise tension as the camera peers through windows in search of the next victim while the pulsing electronic score peppers the clashing metaphors – disloyal literary agent John Saxon (Nightmare on Elm Street), male versus female cops, a feminine voice wielding a straight razor male weapon. Subtitles would have helped the low volume and off dubbing, but typewriters, record players, and flash cameras accent breaking glass frights, dark room developments, and pieces of the unseen killer's lair. Although murders in a book made real may be a common plot now, the slightly abstract lack of polish and low budget freaky adds to the American in Rome angst, threatening phone calls, shoe fetishes, and phallic parallels. The stark visuals mirror the cold, harsh detachment – something is hiding in plain sight with white clothes, red symbolism, beach-side sexual aggression, and gender bending encounters as our clues. Are young women flirting with older men asking for violence? The multi-layered life imitating art giallo expectations add commentary on such tropes with dual investigations, puzzling notes, and a detective reading detective novels but unable to solve what's on the page. Breaking and entering violations, symbolic penetrating attacks, and a whiff of Catholicism accent killer dogs, chases, double crossings, repression, and frazzled nerves as the quality deaths escalate into bold violence and visual confirmations. Despite a previous Nasty notoriety, this isn't torture porn for the sake of it and may actually seem tame compared to today's shocks. Fortunately, this remains an intelligent cross genre thriller and taut mystery with red herrings, insider psychosis, and wild film within a film veils. After all, who is the voyeur if not viewer?

Avoid!

Don't Answer the Phone – Sweaty rituals open this 1980 bizzarity before a nurse in white, heavy breathing, strangulation fetishes, and sexual violence. Old radio designs, big headsets, giant switches, tape reels, pay phones, and chalk boards in the precinct add retro pastiche, however, a padding police research montage merely opens file cabinets, passes papers, and sighs over manila folders as our killer strolls along the Walk of Fame before finding the seedy side of town. We know nothing about him save for an army jacket, and the fake Spanish accent used in calling the radio psychologist is pointless. Snippy cops say this serial strangler is good overtime money, and hokey killer workouts/pep talks don't mix with serious patients and therapy sessions recounting abuse. Rather than sticking with the forensic samples, hairs, and bite mark clues or the female doctor who could solve the crime, every strong woman with a breakthrough dies. Such prey rather than empowered gratifies the violence – apparently it's not the killer's fault when he replays the abuse of an incest victim as sexy. Um, no. Prayers, candles, and warped visuals try too hard to be inside the scandalous when the detectives and radio host evidence should be the core. A crime thriller peppered with real world heightened horror moments is fine, but interesting police psychologist theories are ignored for a black pimp more upset at being called dumb than a racial slur – amid a supposedly comical raid where the cops bemoan filling out the forms for shooting said black pimp. o_O This needed either the investigation perspective with his prank calls alone or an unseen following of the killer. Hearing his cues at the photography sessions and luring models are enough fearful suggestion. Instead, all cops are wisecracking assholes one step behind what we've already seen because evidently we're supposed to feel sorry for the crying killer when he's selling his fetish photos of the victims. This is not PTSD from the Vietnam psychopath trope, as the murderer whines about the usual childhood killing of the dog, wetting the bed, and a step-dad who didn't like him, and the attempted gritty defending of this crazy racist vet rapist who's just getting a bad rap seems more like porn or snuff with the hardcore excised. I would say it's dated in this approach, but female exploitation used for manpain excuses is still onscreen today. I'm repulsed by this terrible film, least of all because nobody even noticed the killer never wore gloves.

Cults and Religious Frights!

Cults and Religious Frights!

By Kristin Battestella

Rural or international, old school, medieval, or modern – these tales of good versus evil, devils, voodoo, and cults provide enough unique horrors and spiritual frights. 

 The Church – Three films claim to be Demons 3 in the somewhat confusing Italian Demoni series. Fortunately, this 1989 Dario Argento produced stand alone sequel opens with galloping knights versus witches, scary organ music, demonic signs, prophecy, torches, and head chopping slaughter. So what if it is kind of small scale, the helmets look like spray painted buckets, and kids literally have baskets on their heads! Crosses, stonework, church bells, Gothic spires, and gargoyles bring the medieval ecclesiastic yet sinister atmosphere to the modern day prayers, Biblical quotes, maze-like catacombs, and dusty library tomes. The titular temple was built to sanctify mass burials and keep evil caged below, and the tale sticks almost exclusively to the sanctuary setting as Indiana Jones temptations for buried treasure lead to coded parchments, architectural clues, suspicious altar sounds, and ghostly horses. A crusty old bishop, the new librarian reading backwards Latin, an art restorer cleaning morbid murals, the rebellious custodian's daughter – innuendo, icky saucy, and nasty behaviors increase as evil seeps out over this interesting variety of trapped people also including a school trip, one bickering old couple, and a couture photo shoot. Even dripping water becomes suspect once the bloody spouts, blue smoke, booby traps, gruesome deaths, and reptilian hands spread evil manifestations and infestations. Frightening confessions, decaying bodily possessions, literal bleeding hearts – today's audiences may not appreciate the slow burn one by one, but knowing it is just a matter of when adds to the robes, stained glass, rituals, and chanting. How can one fight the bestial Satan when he's entered the hallowed itself? Although the past and present connections can be confusing and remain unexplained beyond a happened before and will again warning, the skeletons, gory bodies, wings, and horns make for a very wild finale. This picture is not shy with its imagery nor its parallels – the demons only escape because human corruption was already there, using unleashed horrors to remind us that it's safer to leave well enough alone. 

 

Sacrifice – Radha Mitchell (Pitch Black), Rupert Graves (Sherlock), and David Robb (Downton Abbey) star in this 2016 adaptation of Sharon Bolton's novel beginning with brisk New York pregnancy emergencies before moving to Scotland's great mountains, rocky coasts, and end of the world island isolation for an adoption. Standing stones, jokes about mistaking “runes” for “ruins”, and talk of Druids, Normans, and ritual sacrifice pepper the scene setting job interviews, hospital tours, and dinner with the wealthy, well-connected, but secretive in-laws. A dead animal on the property reveals a buried body, and our lady obstetrician butts into the police investigation of this bog discovery, studying creepy photos and x-rays of the corpse to suggest the victim had recently given birth before her insides were excised. Quality science, Tollund Man references, and flood clues jar against trow myths, unique folklore, and inscription evidence. The authorities don't want to hear any of that old sacrificial talk, but these mothers and lady cops are intelligent women talking about history and murder rather than men or gossip. While the well-paced, multilayered investigations may build the spooky versus facts with suspicions and tense cloak and dagger, this is not an overt horror picture. The story here feels caught in the middle when it should have been either a straight crime drama or gone with all out fantastics. There are some plot confusions as well – who is who and all the details aren't totally clear, leaving an abrupt end with serious unanswered questions. Fortunately, surveillance, shadows, chases in the dark office at night, and lights going out add suspense. Late wives, a clinic full of pregnant but anonymous women – who doesn't want this medical mystery solved and why? This is a small island, and not being in on its secrets can prove fatal with dangerous bridges or fiery car accidents. Body switches, clandestine interviews, identifying tattoos, hidden passages, and bagpipes tossed in for good measure seemingly tidy the case, and a likable, mature cast anchors the maternal fears and cult demands of this unique little thriller.

Voodoo Moon – Charisma Carpenter (Angel), Jeffrey Combs (Re-Animator), Dee Wallace (The Howling), and John Amos (Good Times) anchor this 2006 blend of voodoo motifs and Biblical parallels with crows, skulls, casting stones, flooded steeples, rusty sickles, and naked chicks strung up on crosses. Yowzah! Evil shoehorns itself into a decaying body where it doesn't really fit or belong, and mausoleums add a whiff of New Orleans macabre alongside a few flayings alive and backwoods Tennessee mood. Tested faith, psychic connections, and prophetic drawings escalate as this team of multi-faith mystics with varying gifts come together against possessed priests and a devil in their midst. Some flashbacks and character backstories are hokey, but the better seen than told addresses the absurdity of “some psychic holy war against the devil.” An old bed and breakfast sanctuary sheltering the fun and likable cast also makes up for the lame, trying to be suave villain – most of the time here is spent with the people battling such evil elements rather than spectacle wham bam. Granted, when we do have them the fire and lightning effects are meh; the music is over the top, zombie henchman are confusing, loud effects are bemusingly bad, and weak humor or evil exposition get corny fast. There are silly floating in the air battles, unused underwater possibilities, unnecessary people, and unexplained powers – how does the good guy have all the same powers as the bad guy? This introductory, at times light or blasé feeling over the decidedly dark themes and supernatural character focus with potential for more seems almost like a backdoor pilot, which could have been an interesting series. I wasn't expecting much and the title is misleading, however, the audience gets invested in the fight fast. We care about the people in this avenging religious battle and want to see them through their demons both real and fantastic.

Split Call

Children of the Corn 666: Isaac's Return – Black silhouettes and orange sunsets open this 1999 sixth installment branching from the original Stephen King source with Stacy Keach (Prison Break), Nancy Allen (Robocop), and an adoptee born on Halloween returning to her Gatlin birthplace. Despite car accidents, bizarre police, warnings to leave, and a Bible toting hitchhiker quoting Hannah name origins and Samuel prophecies, the snooping about town goes on undeterred with snotty hoteliers, creepy hospital machines, and road rage chases. Unfortunately, slow motion, obnoxious music, and town in on it scares meander in the first half with dusty scenery and corn mazes cluttering the plot holes rather than setting the rural mood. Poor bookend narrations don't help the pointless filler, nonsensical moments, and padding on the standard new person in town sacrifice/pregnancy we know to come. Although the teen rule is juvenile by design, dated millennial looks, hip lingo, a lame sex scene, and fake shocks are DOA – dead birds and bloody writings don't add spooky atmosphere but delay the inevitable with silly visions and laughable visuals. The golden patina looks like October, but the palette is often too dark to see the crazy patients and ward action. Creative or vengeful deaths don't get anywhere until the finale, and the adult characters deserved more. The ties to the initial film, however, remain interesting. The devout waiting for Isaac to rise from his coma and these children of the children plots should have happened sooner in the series, as now the audience is left scratching our heads wondering how and when a comatose boy had the time to get busy. The hospital horrors, insemination fears, and outdoor rituals come too late to correct the connections to the first film, leaving this a predictable, messy not scary tale in need of a watertight rewrite. Everyone has Children of the Corn movie they prefer or loathe – mine is the bad glory of Urban Harvest – yet each entry feels pretty interchangeable. This leg is good in a fall marathon of the series when the details are fresh in your mind, but one also has to let logical thought go to have fun here. 

 

Winter Horror Pros and Cons

Winter Horror Hits and Misses

By Kristin Battestella

Are you displeased with all the happiness in the New Year?  Snowed in and afraid you might do something…rash… unless you can have a scary movie marathon? Here are a few freaky flicks to enjoy and one or two open for a chilly debate.

The Changeling- An awesome cast- including Oscar winners George C. Scott (Patton) and Melyvn Douglas (Hud) with John Colicos (Battlestar Galatica) and Trish Van Devere (One is a Lonely Number)- is simply delightful in this old school 1980 haunted house tale purportedly based on an actual experience. The wonderfully creepy mansion scenery and touches of 19^th century grandeur gone awry highlight this convincing murder mystery beautifully. Fine music, scares, and tragedy are tossed in, too- along with a few bits of unintentional humor, yes. Perhaps a few styles, fashions, and mannerisms are dated now as well. The mismatched look of real life couple Scott and Van Devere might bother some audiences, too- along with some genuinely heart stopping moments that might have you checking your pacemaker. Nevertheless, the poltergeist aspects, psychic action, and ghostly revenge build excellently for a solid and spooky finale.

The Other – The coming of age style and innocence gone wrong in director Robert Mulligan’s (To Kill A Mockingbird) 1972 horror mystery is slightly obvious, granted.  Twins Chris and Martin Udvarnoky are filmed in such a way that careful viewers will spot a lot of the forthcoming mysterious fun, brewing twists, and freaky psychic action. Fortunately, Uta Hager (Reversal of Fortune) is great as the wise grandma Ada. It is a typical role in a horror movie, but Hager adds warmth, old-fashioned clout, and class to the spooky spins. Brief Star Trek alum Diana Mulder is also lovely as our not quite all there widowed mother, but she isn’t there enough- nor is the very young, very briefly onscreen John Ritter (Three’s Company).  The 1935 scenery is a little more seventies dated, but the nostalgic element adds to the rural fears, farm horrors, and great juvenile morbidity.

The Rite – Anthony Hopkins (must I?) is superb as always in this 2011 exorcism thriller co-starring Colin O’Donoghue (The Tudors) and Alice Braga (Predators). While there are spooky elements here- and very scary and creepy demonic things do occur- I’m not sure this deserves a horror classification or the frightful expectations of boobs and slice and dice that come with the contemporary horror label.  Director Mikael Hafstrom (1408) and writer Michael Petroni (Chronicles of Narnia: Voyage of the Dawn Treader) present a more spiritual film dealing with faith, doubt, possession, and the mysteries of god and man with supernatural turnabouts and twists tossed in. The Rite makes the viewer think before it scares. Who actually becomes possessed? When?  Why?  The great use of Italian language and Roma locations adds real world international culture and panache, even if O’Donoghue is a little lightweight against Hopkins.  But really, who isn’t?  Rutger Hauer (really?) is also greatly under utilized, but overall, I’m not sure why people don’t like this one.

Splitsville

The Countess- Actress turned writer and director Julie Deply (Before Sunrise) perhaps wears one too many hats for this 2009 biography. Her make up and hairstyles as the infamous Elizabeth Bathory are too stern, even ugly, and her accent is iffy, with weird pronunciations and strange mixings of languages. Despite strides towards outspoken humor, the titular lady is played a bit too bitchy and unlikeable in what is actually supposed to be an anti Countess Dracula angle. The scripting is slow, disjointed in the first half, and takes too long to get to the reallly nutty bloody everyone’s expecting.  The viewpoint is confusing as well, with the Daniel Bruhl (Inglourious Basterds) narrating Bathory’s internal monologue on speculation from his future deathbed…huh? Such eerie historical feminism might have been too ambitious a subject for Deply’s full length directing debut- just tell it straight one way or the other. We have style and good-looking costumes, but the drab, authentic color lacks opulence and full on period lush. The battles are decent, but brief, natural and rustic. There’s blood, but not proper horror.  There’s weird man slave action, but the nudity is too tame, with murder montages skimping over all the action.  Oscar man William Hurt (Kiss of the Spider Woman, Children of a Lesser God) is also too brief, put aside for a hokey victim of love and weird smear campaign for misunderstood Bathory.  It is quite odd to have a historical drama where there is such a horror opportunity. Normally it is the other way around, with those trying for scares and paranormal at any length. The period music is lovely, but everything here just seems too uneven, first draft, overly sparse, and unable to make up its mind. 

Suspiria – Finally a show without a ‘the’! In addition to a pleasingly threatening atmosphere and discomforting locations, there are some very good scares in this 1977 European witch fest. The performances from Joan Bennett (Dark Shadows), Jessica Harper (Stardust Memories), and Alida Valli (The Paradine Case) are all good, too, carrying the mystery and the suspense and keeping things entertaining. The main theme music from Goblin is also equally juicy.  Unfortunately, the dang music and sound effects are way too much! Everything- but the dialogue, of course- is totally loud and headache inducing.  Some of the odd lighting, weird angles, and color variations from director Dario Argento (Dracula 3D) are great as well. But again, a lot of this subterfuge is much too much, creating a visual excess that overall distracts more than helps the meandering plot and limp ending. All of those soft vocals and poor dubbing doesn’t help the toughness, either.  Naturally, Suspiria is all well and good for out there audiences and innovative foreign horror fans, but this will be quite annoying and odd for more traditional witchy fans. 

Remember, “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”