More Jonathan Rhys Meyers Horror

 

More Jonathan Rhys Meyers Horror

by Kristin Battestella

Let's have a birthday supper with two more genre bending pictures featuring Jonathan Rhys Meyers! Unfortunately, the horrors here do a disservice to the stars – to say the least.

A Mixed Bag

6 Souls – This international production originally titled Shelter starring doctor Julianne Moore (The End of the Affair) and patient Jonathan Rhys Meyers (The Tudors) was originally released in 2010 before this 2013 US re-branding, which already doesn't bode well. After a tense hearing explaining multiple personality disorder as a fake fad defense, our psychologist Cara is on a new case at the behest of her colleague father. The wheelchair bound Johnny with a southern accent answers her questions before scratching, growling, color blind changes, and no wheelchair required inexplicable. Tearful recountings, creepy sores, and vomitings increase, but the x-rays look like two different people and the high school history doesn't gel. Occult symbols, ritual murder, Appalachia magic, and religious undercurrents are apparent early, yet Cara continues to pursue the psychological. Spooky flashes and dream scares break her point of view, and backstory of her husband's murder on Christmas feels forced amid the cool babysitter uncle banter. All the family elements seem unnecessary; doctor dad keeps pushing Cara to prove her motivation and it would be better if she was alone. The psychology interrogations are a tense who is who with angry alters and who's going to blink first chilling. Unfortunately, the medical treatment is fast and loose, and local superstitions, iron nails to ward off evil, and who does or doesn't wear a cross don't get enough attention. JRM's personality changes are well done amid gory discoveries and satanic possibilities, and thankfully we mostly hear rather than see the bone cracking transformations. The one on one scenes are best, yet they don't get us any closer to the root source and Doctor Cara actually doesn't seem very good at her job? Her daughter is a plot device to advance the science versus god when our supposedly religious doctor spends too much time on a medical solution when it's clear to the frustrated audience she is totally missing the demonic at work. We wonder why the authorities weren't involved sooner because she continually oversteps her medical bounds and makes the situation worse. Religious mothers and granny witches take too long to get to the backwoods backstory, with intercut rituals and over the phone info dumps making Cara look stupid alongside one step behind detectives and repeated road trips. The freaky is good when it happens, but so much time is wasted on cryptic ominous that it makes viewers question if there is another version of this left on the cutting room floor. Sepia toned back and forth faith versus faithless cures or curses are confusing with technological audio and visual ease advancing revelations when the characters should be experiencing the consequences directly. It's foolish that critical horror action happens while our doctor merely listens on the phone, muddling point of view and familial motivation and doing a disservice to the emotional, chilling leads. Hospital versus witch doctor choices wait while phone contrivances allow for more driving with in-world hop, skip, jump convenience on top of too many characters and plot detours when we should have focused on the psychosis versus religion twofer. The sacrificial action, influenza timeline, and twists upon twists unravel, descending into wooded chases instead of any scientific or spiritual resolution.

It's Bad

Operation Blood Hunt – Louis Mandylor (My Big Fat Greek Wedding) directs and stars in this 2024 action horror lark featuring Jonathan Rhys Meyers amid vampires, werewolves, and World War II South Pacific incomprehensible. The brief 1928 opening has a unique black and white scheme with stylish hints of color and yellow glows, but the subsequent modern de-saturated drone photography does not set the period mood– and it only gets worse from there. The initial werewolf shock is actually well done, however it's premature to reveal the wolf in the first five minutes. Location changes and onscreen notations telling us it's 1945 London jar with hamfisted contemporary dialogue. Fedora wearing, Bogarting it up JRM is hammy yet suave amid wooden deliveries, Kung Fu strobe, and confusing direction that make the cast seem like they are in different scenes. There are pieces of everything here from Dracula to Kong: Skull Island, and with the modern metal music and cool silver crossbows, they could have tossed in time travel and it wouldn't be out of place. Overlong, obnoxious banter introduces try hard people a half hour in with freeze frame titles while they jump out of a plane: casanova, tracker, assassin, spy, sharpshooter, veteran, supernatural specialist, gambler. None of this preposterous can be taken seriously largely thanks to the World War II trappings – visualized only by the period helmets that are too big and fall down over the actors' eyes. The perplexing Wikipedia summary reads like a novel, and JRM's vampire bar with the cool black and white flashbacks look like they're from another movie. Why is all this jammed into one ninety-four minutes when it could have been contemporary set? Werewolf slices and slashes are too few and far between, and it all should have been from the village's perspective where shaman rituals and animal curses give the asshole intruders what they deserve. The bad vampire wants to get to the North Pole, and I can't imagine how anyone in this movie kept a straight face. Attempted dramatic moments, deaths, and dire radio calls are inadvertently bemusing thanks to a contemporary edgy ballad. Ironically, a woman's arms being ripped off by the werewolf is another good effect, but we don't get to the hairy action, silver bullets, and curse mythology explanations until the final twenty minutes. Blaming the native village history feels racist, and intercutting the mercenary island action with London explanations that it's all about hidden gold and not the monsters adds more messy. But hey, maybe every film needs a naked woman who is clearly wearing a flesh tone tank top yet is still treated as if she is naked. JRM is a vampire who's been listening to everything the entire time, and a racist coda inviting them to Egypt to battle mummies leaves it open for a sequel, lololol. I can't believe I watched this whole thing!

1982 Co-Ed Horror!

1982 Co-Eds in Horror

by Kristin Battestella

This oddly specific trio of 1982 films ups the fatal scares for the feather haired and short shorts wearing co-eds of the day. Familiar faces confront chainsaw killers and morgue mishaps in these diverting vintage horror escapades.

Mortuary –Friend-zoned geek Bill Paxton (Aliens) and more familiar faces battle embalming mishaps and a hooded killer in this cheeky 1982 fright opening with a sunny villa pool and heavy breathing point of view kills on the lanai. This early eighties is still breezy seventies in style with roller rink action, hot pants, and feathered hair, and our cool dudes with a far out van intend to loot the titular warehouse. Spare tires, gurneys, antiques, caskets, and candelabras make for a neat mix of spooky and industrial style culminating in cauldrons, robes, chanting, rituals, and limbs dangling out the coffin lid. Stabbings and splatter provide peril but mom Lynda Day George (Mission: Impossible) has moved on since the opening death while daughter Mary Beth McDonough (The Waltons) remains suspicious despite the disbelieving police. An ominous Hearst stalks a sweet vintage Mazda as more friends disappear amid cemeteries, psychiatry, suicide history, and denied marriage proposals. Wispy nightgowns and sleepwalking begat midnight swim attacks, and our mortician once locked his young son in the morgue so he wouldn't be afraid of the dead bodies. He expects him to follow in the family footsteps embalming nude dead babes, and there's a routine to the aspiration and chemicals – almost a ritual in itself. Dead landlines, flickering lights, on and off music, and power outages scare our ingenue in a well edited frenzy before thunderstorms and séance revelations. The culprit watches the sex by the fireplace, leading to raspy pleas to open the window so he can touch her. This feels more like a television movie of the week, so the horror and gore are tame for today. However shattered glass, chases, synth score pulses, and shadows in the bedroom lead to screams, penetrating knives, and symbolic sexual violence with death throes and panting. The maniacal smiles mount thanks to the titillating body on the table, and anyone against the killer will be punished with impalement, abduction, or axes as the dangers abound at the funeral parlor. Ironic classical cues and contemporary camp winks combine for a surprisingly impressive gothic atmosphere with a fun story and scene-chewing performances.

One Dark Night – Unlike today's perfect gradients, the grainy blue night adds eerie atmosphere to this 1982 Meg Tilly (Psycho II) and Adam West (Batman) hazing horror romp with psychic undead, coffins, and creepy crypts. Despite thunder, gothic gates, funerals, and tombstones; this is very slow in getting to the actual mean girls spending the night in the mausoleum initiation thanks to bizarre opening murders, coroner vans, and crime scene carnage largely told rather than seen. Police radio chatter, onlooking crowds, and news reports waste time repeating the electromagnetic phenomenon. Back and forth cutting to the teen babes in matching bad girl jackets and photo booth fun at the arcade are also unnecessary. All of the estranged family occult, life force photographs, energy vampires, and telekinesis theories should have been shown in the beginning, and we shouldn't meet the teenagers until the drive to the cemetery. Their frienemy peer pressure doesn't need jealousy over the jock – even if that meant losing the vintage mustang and sweaty basketball scenes with short shorts and tiny towels. Dares at the door, berating threats, and Demerol ruses provide cruelty amid classism toward the poor wannabes and racism toward the stereotypical scaredy cat, toothbrush chewing Black girl who's told she's a “real” sister. Crypt plaques, flowers, sympathy cards, pews, and candles set the morose scene for the fake frights as the cracked vaults and dark windows invoke the overnight spooky. The psychic evil feeds off the delirium, vicious tricks, and growing fears inside the mausoleum maze, and it's unfortunate that the trapped suspense is continually broken by unnecessary outside scenes – delaying most of the scares until the final twenty minutes. However, the levitating caskets, reanimated rotting, and gooey bodies are superb when they do happen. Chapel prayers and individual frights escalate with crumbling crypts, rattling objects, and metaphysical winds as the mean girls get what they deserve. It's bemusing that the biggest names here have the least to do, and behind the scenes problems resulted in different video versions. Fortunately, the fun house horror finale does a lot without much gore thanks to skeletons, zombies, worms, and purple glows making for some entertaining late night ooze.

Pieces – Christopher and Lynda Day George strike again in this Boston set, Spanish produced 1982 campus slasher. The 1942 quaint quickly turns to saucy violence, rage, and surprising splatter as our ten year old boy is not going to take it anymore. Forty years later, the creative power tools and collecting body parts resume thanks to bloody mementos of his mother and a fondness for nudie jigsaw puzzles. The murderous psychosis and disturbing social commentary beget groovy skateboarding and perky retro sweaters but the giggling, skinny-dipping babes don't last long thanks to chainsaws, creepy gardeners, and dripping bags in the freezer. This video nasty isn't shy in showing the head chopping gore, and we move from one crime to the next with swanky saxophone music, raunchy couples, and scene-chewing police trying to keep the killer publicity quiet. Deaths mount in the titular assembly of the perfect woman while Fame-esque dance classes, techno music, and leg warmers add nostalgia. Undercover tennis coach Lynda is on the case – contending with pesky newspaper reporters and “Bastards!” before more dancing leads to layered maze-like chases and thunder heralds the fatal anticipation. Despite nighttime lighting and dark killer silhouettes, we can see the equal opportunity nudity and everything in the limb losing elevator. Ironic marching band music, locker room showers, knives, and waterbeds make varied use of every campus opportunity. That curious lady reporter shouldn't sneak around alone, and cops vomit at the consequences. Sure, some of the acting is over the top. However girls are being sawed in half and the authorities are one step behind what the audience knows. The self-aware slasher pastiche does what it says on the tin and comes together for a bemusing finish.

Recent Religious Horrors

 

Recent Religious Horror

by Kristin Battestella

This trio of 2020s frights takes on evil in several forms. However, some results are better than others are – ranging from decent to frustrating and downright bad viewing experiences.

Pretty Good

The First Omen – Sonia Braga (Kiss of the Spiderwoman), Bill Nighy (Underworld), and Charles Dance (Game of Thrones) provide supporting gravitas in this 2024 prequel to The Omen co-written by debut director Arkasha Stevenson (Vessels). Tolling bells, scaffolding perils, and shattered glass begat shadowed confessions and whispers of unnatural conceptions. Black hoods, bound rituals, pregnancy, blood, and pleas to not be touched again make for a chilling start before the sunny arrival of our friendly American nun at the 1971 Roman orphanage. The old corridors look shabby with an amber, aged patina, and we wonder what goes on in this villa filled with women. These nuns smoke and giggle about the milkman, however union protests and youth counterculture that distrust church authority worry the Cardinal. Our novice recounts being a problem child herself, punished and subdued as a ward of the church for what was said to be an overactive imagination. She's reluctant to sneak out and hit the neon disco but soon gets into the dancing and sweaty kisses before regrets, kneeling, and prayers. Lookalike women, sisterhood suggestions, lesbian taboos, and repeated creepy hair fanning out upon the pillows foreshadow more while an excommunicated priest warns of evil things happening. Immolation, delirious weirdness, and monstrous nasty provide what we think we see in the dark fears amid eerie frescoes, hidden rooms, and disturbing offspring. Pregnancy is not a beautiful experience but gory with medical tools and horrible visions of demon hands and orifices. Backward chants and altars treat the Cesarean as ceremony – escalating to claws, growls, retching, convulsions, and baby cries. The elders claim this abomination is a miracle to save the church, however viewers will know what's what re mother and jackal before the ninety minute mark, and this didn't need to be two hours. Pointless arty shots and short cryptic scenes are disjointed while silly jump scares negate the more natural simmering horror mood. Swelling music calls attention to itself, heralding the spooky when the chorales should only be heard as diegetic and innate to the ritual vows. The revelations are overdone with repeated mark of the beast questions and Antichrist goals that don't make much sense when the sixth month, sixth hour, sixth day approaching should have driven the plot. Though very atmospheric and overall entertaining thanks to sudden, disturbing horrors; the last half hour drags on with fiery slow motion and but wait there's more too many endings. Instead of leading up to the picture of Gregory Peck and fin, this overstays its welcome by eking out room for The First Exorcism 2: Boogaloo.

Frustrating

The Harbinger – Native American seer Irene Bedard (Smoke Signals) educates writer/director/producer/star Will Klipstine (The Evolution of Andrew Andrews) on saving his damned daughter in this devilish 2022 tale. Hangings, mysterious death relics, and burning in hell declarations lead to our on the go family refusing the psychologist's concerns. Sunny flashbacks of happier times are oddly intercut with a cliché driving montage and an ominous gas station stop before an annoying neighbor gives the newcomers the bigoted scoop on the nearby cursed reservation. Our daughter kills a frog and pushes children out of the tree house, but the something evil afoot parental arguments are too on the nose – forcing the sinister amid disjointed scenes that don't happen organically. Viewers wonder what's on purpose, deflection, or padding as more caricature neighbors come and go. Little miss creepy is unwelcome at the reservation, but our seer both says there is no hope for such evil yet there is something they can do. Although not stereotypically portrayed, there also simply aren't enough Native American motifs. Mystical explanations devolve into magical gobbledygook about quests, blessed daggers, and sacred stones. Repetitive scenes with redundant exposition get preposterous as everyone tells but no one actually does anything. Our father finally admits the devil has his daughter's soul, and his having been a single parent would have been much more interesting. The best moments here are between dad and daughter with her asking if he remembers what she was really like and his carrying her to bed as always. One scene with our wife going to confession and the priest kicking her out goes nowhere thanks to demonic reflections, spooky whispers, dreams, and sepia speakeasy specters negating the too few and far between emotional family moments. Continued happy flashbacks don't create emotion, just delay the current inaction as our passive family makes no progress. The Mrs. hardly interacts with her daughter unless it's to be whooshed around the kitchen, complaining her husband needs to do more rather than being proactive herself. Likewise, our seer tells of colonial curses and sacrifices in the town crypt but she's not actively involved in any ritual to prevent the collecting of souls. Dead animals accumulate and demons attack the bed as more deaths and comeuppance are given after the fact. Police investigations again fall back on flashbacks – repeating the deals with the devil and harbinger exposition twice more with who's actually in on appeasing the devil. Their faith in God and any Catholicism are a non-factor but convenient cemetery maps and prohibition tunnels provide action contrivances, convenient angels, and gangster ghosts. The horn and hoof red devil begats back and forth flying daggers stabbing people like it's “Who's on First” – the effects aren't terrible but the finale descends into unnecessary twists and obvious self-sacrifice. Diablo ex machina reincarnation and more historical exposition thrown at the screen become terribly frustrating, silly, and overlong. Though watchable if you accept this is a flawed production that had potential, this should have been a taut, streamlined ninety minutes.

Skip It

The Exorcism of God – I want to appreciate the Mexican setting, Spanish flavor, and Catholic mood of this 2021 parable, but my gosh if this isn't pieces of every other exorcism movie put together. I laughed in the first five minutes over the Exorcist knockoffs and ridiculously sexual opening exorcism – predicting it was a prologue that would to jump to a new many years later focus. Even priests named Michael and Peter are derivative of the maligned The Seventh Day, and it was very easy to zone out and half pay attention when not chuckling at the demon special effects. The earnest performances are so earnest they don't know they are in a horror movie. Sometimes that is good, most of the time it isn't. Every set piece scare is also for the audience – negating any of the priestly conflicts with repeated, increasingly hammy sexual possession shocks. This setting deserved a much better script, and Saban should really stick to Power Rangers instead of trying to make horror movies. How could a studio/distributor release forty-five films in 2022? Even if that was somehow pandemic backlog, terrible movies like this result in such littered streaming. More important than the assembly line industry, however, is the downright offensive, trying to be shocking, scandalous possession and sex ploys toward church abuse victims. A priest claiming a demon made him molest young women in his care is your plot? Who thought rape jokes were a good idea?

Italian Horror Larks

 

Italian Horror Larks

by Kristin Battestella

This Italian trio from decades of yore provides heaps of horror atmosphere along with camp genre cliches and entertaining late night winks.

The Devil's Nightmare – Unsettling black and white World War II raids and newborn sacrifices open this 1971 French language Italian co-production before the color present explains our Baron's family curse. Pleasant daylight scenery, nature sounds, and turret photography lead to an unseen attack, screams, and bodies bearing the devil's mark before a creepy gardener directs a tour bus to the Baron's castle to wait out the stormy night. The cranky couple, sharing babes, angry old man, driver obsessed with food, and novice priest each have rooms with diabolic succubus history to match our seven deadly sins metaphors. While the Baron's below in his mad science laboratory with colorful beakers, skeletons, and torches; the babes chill in their underwear and a saucy bathtub scene ensues. Oral implications befit the succubus legends, for our bus driver has food hidden in his suitcase and is always seen consuming something. Spiral staircases and creepy organ music accent the talk of an ancestor selling her soul to Satan – not that such tales spoil our glutton's appetite or the arrival of a beautiful red haired guest in a slinky cutout frock. The Baron offers to show them his alchemy lab, and our assembly judges each other over their hobbies and infidelities during dessert. No power or telephones lead to candlelit tunnels and illicit in the dark despite blood dripping from the ceiling and dead animals. The guillotine and iron maiden in the attic come in handy amid barking dogs and tempting visions that appear more and more undressed. The bewitching lures of the feast and medieval tortures are increasingly unique and chilling with phallic impalement and snakes. Upside down, alluring reflections in the wine glass and bathing in gold dust greed reveal the true demon gaunt – a gory visage upon each choking, drowning, and head chopping. Although this is a little long or in need of a tighter pace and we've seen similar plots before and since; the fatal, entertaining seductions do what they say on the tin. Debates with the priest on who deserved to die for their sins begat fencing mishaps, devilish black carriages, deals to avoid damnation signed in blood, and a fiery finish.

Slaughter of the Vampires – Similar titles, varying releases dates, differing run times, and English dubbing on this black and white aka Curse of the Blood Ghouls can be confusing. Fortunately, the melodramatic score matches the 19th century Austrian torches and village mobs as our vampire leaves his fallen toothy bride behind to be finished off by the pitchforks. Newlyweds Wolfgang and Louise subsequently move into his castle and celebrate the fixer upper with grand hoop skirt balls and piano recitals that inadvertently wake our vampire in the wine cellar. Humorous biddies waver between if the newly arrive unknown count is fascinating or sinister, but he's watching Louise disrobe in front of the window before whooshing in for a nibble. The clueless doctor suggests calling in “Professor Nietzsche” from Vienna for the inevitable blood transfusion, but unnecessarily long transitions with back and forth, incidental exposition are pointless padding. Even the servants waste time saying there's no time to waste! The adult Louise also still has a governess telling her it's time to stop swinging on the swings with the gardener's daughter, and fun sound effects heralding the vampire's hypnotic influence embrace the over the top goofiness. Every man treats Louise like a child except the vampire offering eternal passion through their throbbing blood, and the wispy frocks drop lower and lower on the bosom. Now Louise wants to sample her Wolfgang, and the orgasmic sound he makes when she bites him is hysterical. Despite trite surprises, billowing curtains, and tolling bells as Nietzsche runs around trying to find the vampire's coffin; the saving women from evil and protecting children from contamination arguments suggest a deeper statement. Of course, social commentary is not the point here, and the vampire obviously peaking out from behind that fake tree faces crosses and stakes in a rushed finale with creepy kids and crypt skulls for good measure. It's bemusing how today's silly low budget knockoffs come off so wrong, but this period piece Italian production indulges in every delicious moment and owns it.

Witchery – Dreams of colonial chases and rainbow witch talismans haunt Linda Blair (The Exorcist) and David Hasselhoff (Baywatch) in this 1988 Italian produced Massachusetts tale. We know Hoff's a photographer documenting our dilapidated hotel because he wears a big old camera around his neck, however his virginal girlfriend is more interested in spooky spell books recounting past curses – leaving horny Hoff on the floor in a sleeping bag. They're on the scenic New England island without permission, and the first twenty minutes wastes time repeatedly restarting when dialogue provides all we need to know about the snobbish family interested in buying the hotel. They arrive with an idiot real estate agent, a sexy restoration architect, and a precocious kid, because of course. Everyone's stranded for the night thanks to a storm, and the cobwebbed congestion leads to dumbwaiter perils, black tub water, and kaleidoscope visions. Red nails, red shoes, and bright blood lead to metaphysical gateways where our transported victims witness boiling cauldrons and witches eating babies. Mouths sewn shut with a slow, demented needle and bodies in the fireplace mishaps result in gross flesh and unbeknownst complaints that the burning wood smells funny. Our mainland sheriff and superstitious fishermen are reluctant to brave local legends and storm waters, but people in the next room also bemusingly don't hear the whooshing to the past vortex and screaming ruckus. Despite fantastical chants, burning effigies, and ancient rituals; gory orifices and a ghostly assault lead to increasingly disturbing torments. The real world pain is compelling thanks to nosebleeds, gasping breaths, pulsing veins, contortions, and splatter. Vintage projectors play creepy historic film reels by themselves, and it's just weird enough to overcome any silliness. Old fashioned padding like water beds and looking up the police's number in the phone book add nostalgia alongside the damn freaky stuff captured on the kid's tape recorder – greed, lust, fruit of the womb, virgin blood. Set pieces don't leave the ensemble much to do, but the thwarted helicopters and bodily possessions culminate in crucifixion and evil cackling. Will Hoff be the hero or will the witch win? If you can appreciate the inadvertent laughter and obvious twists along with the well done scares, this makes for some surprisingly fun perils and intensity.

Hollywood Horrors and Documentaries

 

Hollywood Horrors and Documentaries

by Kristin Battestella

This trio of twenty-first century documentaries looks back on our intertwined literary horrors, Hollywood hits, and witchy history.

The Strange Life of Dr. Frankenstein – Classic film clips on life, death, and horror open this 2018 documentary hour on the eponymous novel before the narration goes back to 1816 for Mary Shelley origins and Geneva tales. Portraits and early film footage accent the scholars recounting how Shelley's Wollstonecraft background and anti-patriarchy stance shaped her literary monster – breaking down the titular history into themed chapters on man and automatons. Subsequent Percy Bysshe Shelley artistic influence, emerging medical science, and real life surgeons inspiring Mary are showcased via novel excerpts on grave robbing, electricity, and unnatural ways to create and create life from death. Brief highlights from the 1931 Frankenstein and TheBride of Frankenstein examine the monster's mate, sexual fears, and how Boris Karloff's made up, growling, green abomination seeped into the cultural lexicon yet differs from the novel's monstrous veneer versus orphaned sadness. Our doctor's obsessions succeed and exceed, and his mad scientist is not so dissimilar from today's science fiction becoming fact. The final segment looks at the Frankenstein legacy and how it's parables appeal to the masses – even those who've never read the book. We've still not learned about outdoing our creator thanks to atom bombs and today's technological replacements instilling the same fears that inspired Mary Shelley. This is a French production with some historians translated, and the B roll horror and nudity mean this might not be for the younger classroom. However, this is a pleasing summation and analysis focusing on the novel rather than the film adaptions for older newcomers and longtime fans.

Who Done It: The Clue Documentary – Vintage trailers open this fond 2022 retrospective on the 1985 comedy Clue amid raw interview footage of director Jonathan Lynn's (My Cousin Vinny) recounting the initial executive meetings and their laughter at the thought of making a board game into a movie. Experts and Clue connoisseurs praise producer Debra Hill's (Halloween) impact in making the film possible despite script troubles, numerous writers, how to frame the whodunit, difficulties over who gets the story credit, and famous names falling through during casting such as Carrie Fisher. Backgrounds on the ensemble anchor natural, humorous recollections with Colleen Camp, Michael McKean, Leslie Ann Warren, Lee Ving, and archive clips with Tim Curry and Christopher Lloyd. Analyzing the artwork, design, costumes, and score leads to reflections on the soft box office and confusion over the three endings before video sales renewed Clue's camp legacy. Our filmmaker Jeff C. Smith (Stupid Teenagers Must Die!) also appears upon going to an auction to purchase the original matte paintings from film. At over one hundred minutes, this is a little long with our documentarian talking to the camera while driving his car throughout the narrative – intruding on a flow that is otherwise unbiased rather than personal. The finale also meanders with rambling fan moments when such tattoos and Clue themed proposals should have opened the tribute. Fortunately, overall this is a lighthearted look perfect for fans of the beloved comedy.

The Witches of Hollywood – Authors and experts discuss the history of Hollywood witches in this hour long 2020 retrospective. Shakespearean witches, Malleus Maleficarum sources, and infamous trials with mostly female victims accused of being in bed with Satan predate western society's fear of femininity yet laid the groundwork for the brooms and pointy hats. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs introduces audiences to the femme fatale's alluring power while The Wizard of Oz provides green stereotypes of bad crones versus pretty, good witches. I Married a Witch offers love spells and the happy housewife during World War II before the chic Bell, Book & Candle wants to give up the magic to be a normal girl. Bewitched lampoons the loss of powers to achieve the domestic American dream alongside The Feminine Mystique, birth control, and the rise of women's liberation. The end of Hollywood Production code leads to an increase of film nudity, sexuality, blood, fear, and the occult as foreign films like Black Sunday come to the masses grappling with menstruation and Carrie. Although the counterculture embraced the realistic witchcraft scenes in Season of the Witch, the male horror of not being needed by the woman acerbates the subsequent Reagan era and the Moral Majority. Satanic Panic perceives New Age practices as in league with satanism, yet The Witches of Eastwick owns the girl power stereotypes and religious commentary. Positive coming of age in The Craft embraces autonomy and addresses racism compared to the often subservient Anglo depictions, and the witch becomes intelligent and capable on television with Sabrina, Charmed, and Buffy. The Witch and American Horror Story: Coven begat new diversity and magical evolution from shamed to unabashed amid ongoing movements in today's turbulent political climate. This is a well done, insightful piece providing a succinct parallel between culture and historical changes and the representations of the witch onscreen.

Retro Bonus

Ancient Mysteries: Witches – This fourth season episode of the 1990s A&E series hosted by Leonard Nimoy is obscure if you don't have it on video. However the old fashioned lack of winks, reenactments, and hyperbole permeating today's documentaries lends a straightforward, time capsule appeal. Experts recount benign goddess worship from Scandinavia to the Middle East before pagan suppression and medieval torture thanks to preposterous but rampant theories about flying witches and sexual sabbaths with the devil. Separating the ancient misnomers, witch trial persecutions, and Salem infamy fact from fiction gives way to fading supernatural fears, cyclical do no harm philosophies, and contemporary Wiccan practices. Despite its elusiveness, this is a well rounded and informative analysis for any age.

Fearful Examinations 😱

 

Fearful Examinations!

by Kristin Battestella

This trio of retro psychological frights need not rely on today's special effects whooshes and in your face designs thanks to focused fears and chilling performances.

Dark Places – Deathbed vows and asylum doctors begat a creepy inherited estate and injuries at the manor in this 1973 haunt. Boarded windows, antique clutter, shabby interiors, and cobwebs add to supposed ghosts, figures in the window, slamming doors, and creaking footsteps. The power of suggest is strong, for suitcases full of cash are allegedly hidden in this house with a murderous past, and doctor Christopher Lee (Horror of Dracula) doesn't want anyone else to beat him to the punch. His alluring sister Joan Collins (Dynasty) offers to be the housekeeper for new heir Robert Hardy (All Creatures Great and Small), too, despite crank calls, broken dolls, falling pictures, and village talk of the bodies never being found. The playroom is layered with thick dust and violent shambles, and the lights going off for total darkness onscreen is simple yet effective. Rather than attempting to pull the wool over the audience, our rivals admit upfront that they are using the disturbing history to scare our new tenant away from the lost loot. However even they get scared by the objects they aren't moving and the bumps in the night they didn't cause – making for a tense little housewarming party with brandy, cigarettes, and stiff upper lip deceptions. Edward shouts at the giggling children's echoes that this is his house now, but his motive is also not pure as he spends the spooky nights knocking on wall panels in search of the missing money. Violent drywall bashing leads to bats sweeping in from the chimney in a well-filmed frenzy while choice zooms accent brief what you thought you saw shocks. Rather than superfluous scares wasting half the movie, the small cast and several key rooms anchor the tension and claustrophobia. Flashbacks to the domineering deceased and his vows to punish his children for their twisted games provide questions on psychic sensitivity, mental instability, possession, or delusion. Pointing fingers distrust, contesting wills, and suggestive siblings collide with ghostly footprints, a supple governess, and a nonchalant pick ax. The visions and supernatural influences even continue outside the house with echoes and slow motion, and we only see the evil children's demented smiles in the finale as the delirium, arguments, anguish, and consequences escalate. Past and present dalliances collide with gunshots, screams, and strangulation. Although I wish there was more of meddling Doctor Lee claiming he is there to help the distressed and the mystery is fairly straightforward for well versed viewers, the deranged performances make for a taut edge. This doesn't go all out with the extremes like today, yet a little lust and plenty of greed go to the scary depths thanks to intimate violence, assorted weapons, and skeleton surprises.

Fright – Miniskirts, Winnebagos, eerie ballads, and a spooky walk through the woods lead perky babysitter Susan George (Straw Dogs) to her charge in this 1971 examination. Nervous new in town mother Honor Blackman (Goldfinger) bolts all the doors, and through the banister or crib rails camera angles and mirrored framing invoke the cluttered, claustrophobic, trapped feeling. The antique laden manor, stained glass, and winding staircase add period mood, and our family admits the home is creepy and musty, joking about the potential for ghosts and subtly setting the jumpy scene. Creaking doors, rattling plumbing, and parental asides wondering if our sitter suspects anything don't bother Amanda – she is learning child welfare psychology and isn't afraid to observe maladjusted case studies. Unfortunately for her, the dripping tap, unexplained noises, hanging laundry, and innocuous boredom escalate to power outages, footsteps, and faces at the window. Up close attention on her eyes and ears reflect her isolation as the baby is put to bed and her horny boyfriend comes calling. He thinks the manse could be the setting for a horror movie, but Amanda doesn't want him to scare her into his arms. Their flirtatious dialogue layers the mirror to nature parallels, for his scaring her is a result of his sexual frustration, which he says is her fault, but Amanda counters that such obsession is not love. The men further belittle the worried women – who are actually correct not irrational or panicking due to the murderous escapee knocking on the door. Screams and gore outside go unheard thanks to the scary movie on the television, and the black and white zombies contrast the colorful, swanky parents night out as the the killer is inadvertently let in and the phone lines are cut. The simmering peril is well paced with tense conversations, car accidents, and police wasting time while the terrorized babysitter is left to placate the psychotic. Ticking clocks, wanting to check in on the baby MacGuffins, and precious few locations within the house create suspense as intercut spins show the white lace, crying, innocent reality versus the dancing, willing woman delusion. Carnival style music mirrors his juvenile, lusty mental state before silence save for her hurried breathing and punctuating screams. Sirens, police standoffs, loudspeakers, and tear gas come too late while our culprit growls, descending into nonsensical shouts and crying like a child. Now the understandably hysterical women must take action against the violent insanity, and the uncomfortable to watch terror makes one wonder how they filmed such anguish. Although there have certainly been numerous babysitter in peril films since, this remains chilling thanks to the horror we don't see suggestions rather than today's everything at the screen, hollow superfluous.

Foreign Horror Bonus

Black Pit of Dr. M – Originally titled Misterios de Ultratumba, this 1959 black and white Mexican picture from director Fernando Mendez (El Vampiro) featuring Abel Salazar (The Witch's Mirror) has no English dub nor subtitles and my Spanish thinking cap is not what it used to be. The lookalike mad scientists, back from the dead doctors, afterlife secrets, seances, and zombies, however, probably don't make much sense even in the best linguistic circumstances! Fortunately, the cobwebs, abandoned gothic abodes, eerie period interiors, and atmospheric crescendos are everything I love about mid-century Mexican Horror Movies. Of course, I've no idea what the violent woman in the madhouse has to do with the doctor's demure daughter; but the coffins, torches, sinister mustaches, and disappearing men in capes match the primitive yet fittingly spooky smoke and mirrors special effects. Excellent gaslight, lanterns, and shadows provide cinematic depth as creepy scenes steeped in catolica mood and forbidden knowledge escalate to violent action, acid in the face, bandages, revolting reflections, gross disfigurements, and screams. Daylight moments at the churchyard remain draped in suspicion while inside out hacienda greenery and foggy courtyard designs capture the moonlit romance and urgente warning notes blown away in the spooky winds. Wispy visions of dancing ladies, white flowers, black veils, and the invisible hand pulling the patron saint from the ingenue's neck invoke effective light versus dark subversiveness. The doors between life and death should remain closed, but lighting over the gallows, hands reaching out from the grave, devilish violins, and turnabout knives let evil enter in with abductions and fiery fates. A three months later gap and short eighty minute runtime make one wonder if something isn't actually missing that would help this nonsensical story, and the lack of translation these days remains surprising. Nonetheless, the gothic tension, silver screen dimension, and midnight movie macabre deliciously prove that horror consequences are universal.

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.

Unapologetic Foreign Horror

 

Unapologetic Foreign Horror Delights!

by Kristin Battestella

This retro international trio is unashamed of the shocks and gore and unabashedly horror with the saucy and screams.

The Beyond – An inherited Louisiana hotel is one of seven gateways to hell in director Lucio Fulci's (The House by the Cemetery) 1981 surreal mix of Lovecratian books and bayou raids. The golden patina and antique interiors of the 1927 opening set off the rattling chains, gory whipping, screams, and squirting blood. “Flesh hisses” captions and swanky crescendos build to the then contemporary shabby and our ingenue heiress weighing the fix up cost versus the hotelier downturns. Call bells ring from empty rooms, hellish paintings abound, and creepy employees are dispensed with thanks to the flooded basement, zombie hands, and eyes popping out of their sockets. Spirits in the window lead to bloody workmen, floating bodies, autopsies, and warnings to leave the hotel. Melting acid and foaming ooze are approaching but the New Orleans jazz clubs remain so smooth as the stylish, unapologetic vignettes take time building unease before the gory payoff, creepy morgue moments, and little girl screams. The chilling scenes may be random or unexplained, but that's indicative of the spreading evil as everything from kooky bookstores and covered furniture to creaking doors, tools, and squeaking gurney wheels becomes on edge eerie. Cemeteries, repeated shots, footsteps, and parallel actions belie viewers with seemingly simple horror before gross bathtubs escalate to real shocks and gore. There's little to understand and not much of a story. No one is actively trying to find out what's happening or resolve the horror, and that is okay! Evil's a'comin' as monsters stalk blind women, dogs attack, and zombie hospital patients rise. Thunder and frightful reactions punctuate perilous falls, man eating spiders, and shootouts before body bags open from the inside and tormented eyes that look upon the horrors turn white. There's something flesh ripping to make anyone's skin crawl here! Dreamlike motion, warped sound, and distorted time mean nothing can be pinned down, and that indeterminate unknown is perhaps the most frightening of all.

The House That Screamed – Multiple versions abound of this 1969 Spanish produced AIP release, and the Tubi edition is cut off the top of the screen so I went with the Elvira's Movie Macabre version for more winks on the 19th century French boarding school murders and innuendo. The carriages, country campus, frilly frocks, swelling music, and period etiquette initially seem so grand, and a new arrival is a shrewd excuse to tour the classrooms. This discrete institution specializes in difficult, illegitimate ladies; and its arts, music, gardening, cooking, and ballet are healthy exercises in the prevention of morbid thoughts. Stern mistress Lilli Palmer (But Not for Me) runs a firm establishment – changing locks and nailing windows shut if need be. Heavy woodwork, cluttered interiors, and uptight fashions are stifling, and even the Foley effect of all the formal, harsh, hefty, old fashioned shoes reflects the strict repression. Unison prayers contrast the rough grabbing, ripping garments, and bound to the bed violence as a confrontational student is stripped and whipped in the seclusion room. Her mean girl perpetrators enjoy the humiliating hierarchy, repressed favoritism, and veiled sexual assault. Our principal's son is also essentially a prisoner kept apart from the poison girls who need correction. He needs a good woman like his mother who holds him tight to her bosom, caresses his hair, and kisses him. Of course, he knows the best crawlspace views and Tuesday is shower day – complete with steaming pipes, clinging white shifts, and scandalous girls who drop their towels just to shock the mistress patrolling the stalls. Although it's tough to keep track of the lookalike girls beyond their stereotypes, the natural, chatty dialogue provides details on who sneaks off from ballet class or who meets with a village boy in the wood shed. Jealousy and needlepoint combine for a montage of tedious threading, moaning voiceovers, rapid editing, and what we don't see saucy. Pretty music, flowers, and slow motion accent a would be romantic rendezvous that leads to warped stabbings and blood in the greenhouse. Thunder, ominous chorales, violent zooms, and freeze frame frights punctuate the spooky late night escape attempts amid fearful realizations and blackmail threats. Atmospheric candelabras and letter openers lead to eerie approaches, slit throats, and screams. It's probably obvious now who the killer is, but the creepy attic revelations are chilling with very little, and it's all still pretty damn twisted!

Hunchback of the Morgue – Scenic villas, beer, and tavern wenches suggest good times in this award winning 1972 Paul Naschy (Human Beasts) romp, but cruel insults and gorilla jokes force our eponymous attendant to take the demented slicing and dicing into his own hands. Although church bells and peasant styles invoke a period setting, there are modern cars and road signs, cold hospital white on white, mid century medical equipment, and lesbian inmate patients whipping each other. Mocking doctors and medical students are surprisingly mean and school children stone the pitiful hunched creature – elevating the tragedy and performance before the violent reds and grayish green body parts. Our outcast fights to defend himself, but tenderness is found in a saintly, dying patient, and he can return such kindness, sympathy, and even romance the pretty ladies. His child-like innocence is not ugly, but he realizes his terrible strength is being used to kill thanks to a deceiving doctor who claims he can reanimate the deceased, unrequited love. The surprising caring contrasts the disturbing gore as autopsies become desecration. The mad science, decapitation, and grave robbing make for a fun medieval mix of beauty and blood that forgives the expected low budget foreign dub, subtitles that don't match, and poor print technicalities. Fedora wearing detectives are on to the dismembered cadavers, skeletons, and underground tunnels accented by torches, acid vats, and real rats. Abducted ladies, missing doctors, catacomb chases, and feeding the babes to goo monsters make no apologies as everything is thrown at the screen in a wild, entertaining midnight watch.