Goodbye Hulu Sprint 👋🏻

 

Goodbye Hulu Sprint 

by Kristin Battestella

I was already working thru my Hulu queue to cancel it at the end of the year thanks to Disney's forthcoming complete takeover and unfortunate absorption of the platform. However, last week I expedited my final viewings and ended my subscription (held since Hulu began!) in response to Jimmy Kimmel's unconstitutional suspension. As Rose says, “I've never liked her,” and despite Disney's walk back on the decision, we must endeavor to do our small part in boycotting morally bankrupt entities. See also Target.

Ironically, these mystery miniseries, eerie documentaries, and Hulu original horror movies are middle of the road anyway – content designed for marathon filler perhaps rightly lost in the catalog instead of standing out by maximizing each's potential subject matter.

A Nasty Piece of Work – Intertitles demand an employee show initiative and adapt to achieve executive solutions because every task is a test in this 2018 Into the Dark Hulu/Blumhouse production. Ironic carols, exasperating attempts to impress the boss, shattered mirrors, and out of breath stress reiterate the corporate competition, desperation over the Christmas bonus, and the relatable, at the end of the cubicle tether. Unfortunately, late boss with the $75k golf clubs Julian Sands (Gothic) is cutting the huge executive bonuses so it's only fair that he give no bonuses to anyone. There is however a chance for promotion hobnobbing at his Christmas party amid jackass rivals, their trophy wives, and drunken innuendo from the boss's domineering spouse. The antique weapons, masks, and passive aggressive pranks are awkward, and the self-aware horror movie jokes about a guy hiding in the house walls are on the nose. The situation moves fast and gun play happens early, but the action comes at the expense of the taut Christmas on edge tension. Waxing on ballistics, security cameras, intruder alibis, or how to bury a body in the backyard are part of the promotion pop quiz, but the classism and corporate extremes driving us to violence should be a deeper commentary than it is. Quoting Dr. King while the Black servant scrubs the blood on the carpet or racism about not knowing the names of the ethnic catering staff are treated as throwaway moments. The decent employee is no longer the good guy once he's decided to stay rather than walk away from this how far are you willing to go horror challenge. Likewise, we don't feel sorry for the jerky rival crying that he's up to his neck in debt to maintain the upward mobile facade as their secrets come back to haunt them. Bathroom jump scares and wives used in the tit for tat lead to twists that our contenders say they aren't falling for again, but the predictable injuries and the lack of willingness to leave this so-called interview mount. Are we supposed to laugh at the boss messing with people because there's still a Schrodinger's chance they might get the job? Of course in the real world, the low man wouldn't be promoted, just blamed for the crimes committed herein, and this strays from the allegorical potential, losing steam despite being only seventy-eight minutes. Shouting, gunshots, and chases descend into back and forths played for illogical sardonic while one person runs away for comic relief and the staff peek around the corner. Cult men in white suits are tossed in for an easy solution with more jokes deflating the horror. This seems content to go for the lowest hanging concept rather than fully execute what the horror is saying, and it's up to the audience to know all the quips, pop culture references, and cliches to extrapolate our own views. I stayed for Julian Sands. I miss him, but despite the self-contained holiday possibilities, this just left me wanting much more.

Shardlake – Angry Cromwell Sean Bean (Sharpe) accents this four episode 2024 Disney/Hulu original based on the C.J. Sansom books. Doublets set the Tudor scene alongside the ecclesiastic mood, however the dark photography and modern digital gradient make this look contemporary and generic rather than period patina. Drone aerial footage is unnecessary as is orchestration that calls attention to itself. Arthur Hughes (The Innocents) is our titular hunchback investigator, but he has a scowling chip on his shoulder and the colorblind casting is reduced to being the murder suspects. Annoying sidekicks and comic relief hamper the case while Shardlake also talks to himself in the mirror. The dialogue is well spoken with fine performances when the ensemble is allowed to sit still and discuss the gory murder, precarious politics, and religious corruption. Unfortunately, such scenes are often spliced with the initial head chopping murder just in case the audience forgot it. Solving the crime should be straightforward; but stolen relics, suspicious hooded figures, sodomite finger pointing, and macho confrontations deviate from Cromwell's ultimate goal to blame the secretive brotherhood and seize the church assets. Already we're spinning tires with suicides, contrived bog perils, and silly chases about the steeples. Captivating moments forcing the viewer to pay attention are few and far between, sacrificed for deliberately cryptic ominous for the sake of it padding and run of the mill contemporary pace. Scenes away from Shardlake are frustrating with fatal toppers just for shock value and no apparent point to the second episode. Our crippled lawyer is put on the rack amid Boleyn twists, boat trips, and instantaneous riding to and fro – detouring when we should never leave the scene of the monastery crime. Clues and evidence the audience saw in the first episode are not deduced until the last hour via ghostly hints, repetitive plot points, and try hard flashbacks. Mounting deaths, uneven filler, and forced romance are as needed before an extremely busy final fifteen minutes tries to wrap up everything tossed at the screen. Even Sean Bean asks how has this murder has not been solved already, and the viewer has long lost interest in what should have been a two hour mystery.

Witches: Truth Behind the Trials – This 2024 six episode National Geographic documentary series begins with forty-five minutes dedicated to Salem before exploring the earlier European persecutions. The hyperbolic female narrator punctuates frenetic re-enactments while ominous, intrusive music emphasizes the sensational punchlines. Shadowed experts are filmed before dark backdrops, intercut with eerie imagery instead of being able to speak in full on the radical ministers. Opening with Salem's hysterical finger pointing at servants of color is meant to grab viewers. However there's nothing new presented and the irony of our current puritanical tailspin is apparent. Episode Two goes back to the German origins of the Malleus Maleficarum laying down the witch hunting rules, but the medieval belief in witches as both harmful outcasts or useful sages remains sensationalized. Innocent women are executed by the territorial theocracy thanks to the lack of scientific understanding. Self-appointed God-fearing committees get tips from conforming villagers about who's in league with the devil, and the invention of the printing press spreads all the torturous details. Naturally the Third Scotland episode sets the scene on Halloween, and despite the regional focus with different persecution extremes, each entry feels repetitive with a misguided tone hitting the viewer over the head on the scandalous accusations. Protestant versus Catholic takeovers against earlier folk practices as a reason for the hysteria is only briefly mentioned, but the Witch Act of 1604 means James VI's divinity guards him against witchcraft plots. Public humiliations gaining confessions are called “pressure” not “torture,” and this true crime style focuses on a few famous names whilst ignoring the massive scale of what happened. Nat Geo used to be quality but this puts shock strobe over history for a banal, crowd-pleasing overview. The short, superficial episodes feel redundant yet six episodes is overlong. This subject is now more important than ever, but I quit halfway through because Wikipedia's Witch Trial article series contains far more detail.

Disappointing 19th Century Gothic Dramas

 

Disappointing 19th Century Gothic Dramas

by Kristin Battestella

These two throwback productions have a lot to offer in period piece morose. Unfortunately, the crowded storytelling makes for disappointing, mixed bag viewing that deserved more.

The Black Velvet Gown – Janet McTeer (Albert Nobbs) leads this 1991 award winning ITV adaption of the Catherine Cookson novel complete with 1830s impoverished patchwork and dirty coal downtrodden mood. The dated, flat print actually helps the humble, hardworking candles and quills as our widow Mariah and her children come to work at a dilapidated manor for four shillings plus room and board. Bitter spinster sisters give the disapproving once over and gossip about what trouble she is because Mariah can read and write, but chores and montages with upbeat music and ye olde town square bustle imply circumstances are otherwise happy. The master sets up a school in his library for the children and offers our housekeeper his mother's titular gown. However, suggested love triangles with the woodsman move quickly, nobody seems to brood or like each other that much yet there's talk of marriage and Mariah disrobes to wait for the master – who says she doesn't look that much older than her little daughter. Though struggling financially, he promises the children puppies and ponies, crossing fatherly boundaries and creepily manhandling them before the enraged twelve year old boy slices up the master with a sickle. The master admits he had to give up teaching because of his “weakness” but his threat to have the boy jailed for attacking him carries more weight then his implied abuse? The family is blackmailed into staying, forcing Mariah to rip up that gorgeous dress before the time jumps to eight years later. Our daughter is now quite the scholar, feeling sorry for the deathbed master that taught her and screwed over her family. This moves fast, almost too fast – as if the important elements have been glossed over and we're supposed to sympathize with the master for making the daughter his heiress. The male lawyers think Mariah should be grateful for inheriting this strapped property, speculating that she slept with her master to get it. Unfortunately, any potential behind closed doors meaty is at best tame and largely absent. A letter seemingly confirming the master abused the son is ignored by the daughter he educated, and her being smart is made the worse crime. Servants must know their place and never talk back as we move from mother to daughter in the second half. Young Biddy remains determined at the new downstairs, defiant despite being whipped while her brother is said to be smart enough to keep quite. The abusive undercurrent is confusing, for sex was seemingly traded to the previous master yet it's this tough laundress work that must be endured and overcome. What filth she's spreading by quoting poetry in public and learning letters in the servant quarters! Although the nothing new statements are weak, the high up idiots not wanting anyone else to gain knowledge reeks of today. Once elevated to chambermaid, our daughter learns how to behave and marries up before using her inheritance to open an equal opportunity school. The morose atmosphere, dramatic performances, and attention to class detail are here, however the last half hour rushes with no focus on how our smart girls cause trouble and all the men want them nonetheless. The twofold storytelling feels pointless with no time to tell either properly – leaving viewers to read the book to get the whole tale. I mean, the dress never even had to do with anything? Great frock, though. Would wear!

The Doctor and the Devils – The Burke and Hare names are changed for this long gestating 1985 Freddie Francis (Dracula Has Risen from the Grave) directed and Mel Brooks (Dracula: Dead and Loving It) produced horror yarn with a surprisingly elite cast. Well dressed doctor Timothy Dalton's (Penny Dreadful) sophisticated justification of what must be done in the name of anatomy and male only lecture hall contrast the gory body on the exam table – the grim product of grave diggers Stephen Rea (The End of the Affair) and Jonathan Pryce (Tomorrow Never Dies) who circumvent medical law for three guineas a body to impress working girl Twiggy (Brand New World). Dirty streets, ruined clothes, and congested pubs don't mix with the top hats and brightly lit upscale, reiterating the classism between working girls and well to do praying doctor's sister Sian Phillips (I, Claudius). The dialogue is intriguing and the performances well done. However this is slow to start with to and from coming and going carriages and romps in the back alleys. Drawn out scenes and idle busy moments delay the graveside thefts, creepy cadaver cuttings, bleeding arteries, and blood splatter marring the fine shirts and ties. At only ninety-two minutes, this should know whether it's focus is the murderous men or the medial horror. Pretty medical assistant Julian Sands (Gothic) gets his hands dirty in buying the bodies, but seeing his girl in the shady brothel, well that's too much! Humor and hooker jokes are apparently meant to have us laugh at the downtrodden who have resorted to killing, but the realistic gore and muffled smotherings in the dark are a better warped. After all, our desperate snatchers are putting bedridden victims out of their misery. The dirty pain, black teeth, and pox sallow waste of the living is made new, fresh, and useful as a dead body. New messy science has no time for red tape impeding a surgeon who makes scary sense when he objects to his talents being shackled by outdated ideology. Rival professor Patrick Stewart (Star Trek) is suspicious of our flippant doctor at the medical inquest. Yes that is his kidney in the jar but it's not his kidney! Healing a grateful cripple offering a meager payment conflicts with the necessary dehumanizing of the cadaver. Our doctor can't worry that they used to be people when it's his duty to do what needs to be done in the name of science. The provocative ideas are crowded with the body snatching comic relief, unnecessary scenes, back alley cockfights, and long gaps with seemingly important characters absent onscreen. The last half hour rushes with dinner parties shocked to hear of homelessness, doomed women, and the city squalor beneath the high society galleries. More victims and moralistic questions split hairs on if paying for bodies is murder for hire. Poor lodgers who suspect foul play and a tough old lady that just won't die are oddly played for laughs amid fiery dreams, butchers, and bodies in the sewer. Recognizing a victim is inconsequential when our doctor demands that he is right and the medical establishment is wrong. The Hammer throwback vibes and gothic atmosphere are welcome with working girls in peril, betrayals, and fingers left in the fireplace. However the period drama and humorous attempts don't quite come together with the best horror moments. This wraps up quickly with who's arrested or gets away unbothered becoming lost – probably thanks to the decades of delay and too many hands on the script.

Maligned 21st Century Horrors

 

Maligned 21st Century Horrors

by Kristin Battestella

Some of these bottom barrel contemporary horrors are not so bad with understandable faults. Others here in, however, are rightfully maligned and avoided.

Didn't Hate It!

Shadow Puppets – Black screens, heavy breathing, and thumps on the wall get right to the waking up screaming, padded white rooms, and eight trapped strangers in this 2007 intriguing if familiar isolation horror from writer and director Michael Winnick (Disquiet) starring Jolene Blalock (Enterprise), James Marsters (Buffy), and Tony Todd (Candyman). Wedding rings are missing from bruised fingers and their identities are unknown, but there's growling at the door, flickering lights, creepy orange tunnels, and industrial hazards. Although it's cold in their underwear, and some fearful, screaming acting is hammy; our unnerved amnesiacs admit this is weird – complaining about their attire and laughing over the naked woman in the swimming pool. Most are scared but others are casual about the ominous stairs, retro machinery, prison gates, beeping monitors, and damaged equipment because they are going to die anyway. Although knowledge and skills are intact, some look for the scientific explanation while others seek weapons. What good is a gun against mists and shadows? Impalement and injuries mount as the lights go out and they are helpless in the dark. Retro phone ringing they can't find and blood smears on the wall but no bodies escalate the finger pointing. Paperwork and computers provide their information, jobs, and connections; however the details on the machinery meant to wipe memories doesn't add up with the number of patients. Is someone suspect among them? The taut isolation is well paced with straight jackets and prisoners chained in a cell deepening the mystery. If they shut off the power to open the electromagnetic door, the lights will be out as well – necessitating a divide and conquer escape plan amid turnabouts in the dark and pool perils. Identity twists and questions on the comatose mind, body, and soul make viewers wonder why there is a monster at all rather than this being about the people betraying each other, for our shadow is merely taking the opportunities presented one by one. The audience may find certain effects hokey the more we see the shadows, but there are no panoramic awe spins or roars at the camera. Much of this is similar to Winnick's Disquiet indeed, and Blalock seems like she's still playing T'Pol when figuring out what's what. Some dialogue is totally laughable, but at least they find their clothes and one flashlight to thwart the monster. The talkative reveal provides some explanation if you don't think about it too much, and this does go on too long in the finale – degrading in to running from the shadow set pieces before a convenient sun rise makes you think how you would have ended it differently. Fortunately, this was better that I expected for a fun late night viewing.

Budget Clearly an Issue

The Ghosts of Borley Rectory – At eighty-three minutes, this 2021 investigative haunt doesn't have three minutes of opening credits to spare, however I appreciate the vintage black and white cast photographs setting the thirties mood. Although the period styles are fine, the generic music advertises this is low budget fare – as do the stilted dialogue, wooden jolly goods, and exaggerated pip pip cheerios. Paranormal investigator Harry Price has rented the eponymous estate, yet those budget constraints mean we don't see the hear tell gadgetry or cameras set up to prove our haunting. Fortunately, it's spooky as we follow the young assistant going from room to room with nothing but a lantern and a notebook. Sure, rattling objects, old rosaries, and eerie trees are cheap; but we're waiting for something to go bump in the night along with the frightened scientists. Vicar Julian Sands (Tale of a Vampire) must tell his god-fearing parishioners that the deceased move on, but his wife demands he disclose the horrors they've encountered. Local officials question the lack of credible evidence from prior experiments, and arguments on seeking to debunk versus proving paranormal activity lead to flashback witness testimony and warnings that something else is in the room. Feeling cold spots and hysterical screaming become inadvertently humorous, but a bemusing psychic and hokey séance turn eerie when the scared medium asks the unseen ancient energy its name. Neighbors claim there have been wild bells and lights at the rectory when of course there have been none, and the weakest assistant is singled out with phantom tapping and flinging books. Ghostly appearances are shrewd when we see them – a silent hand touching the arm or leaving maggots in the food – but the chilling scenes cut away to people talking and talking some more. Even our disappointed investigators say they aren't getting anywhere as weeks go by before Price steps up their tactics with flour sprinkled for ghostly touches and a surprisingly late preparations montage now that it's suddenly the final week of the six month rental. Bloody nuns, croaking voices, creaking ghost movements, and a spirit stepping into the frame and shushing people are freaky enough, yet this inexplicably ditches any slow burn build for a time jump and redundant speeches. Flashbacks telling us what happened pad the runtime and change the investigation from proving the haunting to freeing the nun's spirit. Every ghostly encounter ends with a person waking up (some even with double false wake ups), negating if there was any progress in the stereotypical self-sacrifice of it all. There's no resolution to the freaky goblin in the mirror saying but wait, there's more – only a few black and white reels about a fire six months after they leave and four minutes of closing credits. Financial constraints meaning there is no big shock and awe is okay; I like the idea of seeing as little as possible. Unfortunately this needed a tight structure to balance the choice creepy moments and talkative heavy lifting. There should have been more Julian Sands, too. Even if you can take the low budget make do fun here, it's all a lot of late night nothing. Watch The Banishing instead.

Skip It

The Small Hand – A Ghost Story – Scottish graveyards, creepy woods, and ominous garden paths set off this 2019 tale based on the titular novel as our antique book dealer hears child laughter alongside the rustling leaves and humming woman by the pond. Although I appreciate the lack of in your face boo shocks amid the scenic water perils, suspicious reflections in the window, and spooky encounters; there's a lot of driving to and fro with no idea what's happening almost a half hour into the picture. Rather than beginning with the creepy real estate inquiry – that he only wants to buy so he can live next door to his married paramour – this is very slow to start. Time is wasted on minutiae while dropping blink and you miss it important newspaper clippings, photos, and mentions of having visiting the house and gardens as kids. They tour the manor and then tour the manor some more but nothing comes of the weird stains on the ceiling, fire damage, or video of the tour. The waterbed is likewise just an excuse for some ghostly movements and an eerie dream that doesn't show anything. Despite a low budget production, the mystery and atmosphere have potential with not so innocent little ghosts knocking at the door and perilous falls down the stairs. Freaky mirrors and orange candle glows accent the ghostly women singing, shouting, and carrying pictures of dead sons. Unfortunately the illicit romance doesn't seem like that passionate a love story if they barely even kiss. The Mrs. enjoys the sneaking around only to aggravate her husband – telling her lover to invest in this tremendous undertaking when no romantic impetus for buying the manor would have been better. Our book dealer becomes even more unlikable when he is willing to risk his brother's mental health by asking him about the history of this new love shack. Living with the supernatural acerbating his past metaphors should have been the main plot, and the you-can-read-this-but-not-watch-it weak screenplay is apparent. The tension is not cinematic, deflating with too many characters and detours instead of building spooky momentum with the bloody bathtubs and chilling strangulation. Rather than state of mind versus escalating supernatural, the ghosts just seem to be messing with him, delaying the story being told before rushing important details, affair dialogue, and hectic fatal encounters with too dark to see action and sudden crescendos. More driving scenes begat a highway fake out, and a brief exorcism leads to childhood selves battling ghostly little shits with remote control cars, and the invisible fighting becomes humorous. The suppressed memories of past saucy, violence, and drowning are obvious to the viewer yet our passive protagonist is unaware what's haunting him – even bringing his brother and pregnant sister-in-law to the house because not enough people have died already. Carrying rolled up blueprints and new, puckering wallpaper implies he's been working on the house the entire time, yet all we ever see him do is ask questions of others instead of getting answers from the ghost himself. Flashbacks spell everything out before a holiday sacrifice that does nothing to appease the spirits. This is neither a midnight movie full of scares nor a casual mystery, so not knowing its audience and the poor pacing leave viewers wonder what the point was.

WTF did I just watch?

Tentacles – Desperate packing in a dim lit house and pleas for time apart open this Into the Dark Blumhouse/Hulu Original before time wasting credits, modern ballads, desert driving, burying cash, and open houses. There are a lot of cliches and none of this makes sense so far thanks to incidental dialogue, interior panning, distorted up close angles, and cameras peering around corners that don't reveal much about our nondescript white girl or the drunken photographer who's doing a photo essay on gentrification, lol. He's inherited his parents' big house and offers its renovation to this girl who refuses to share her background? The flirtations and furrowed brows over their mutual adulting is hard are weak. Having sex at an open house comes off trashy, and every scene makes things worse with deflections, cutaways, bangs, screams, and booms. Now she is a house flipping expert ready to paint, tear up carpets, and salvage the vintage fixtures – but also knows how to kill and where to dump the bodies, too! He wants to photograph her “seam” abdomen scar, but she feigns fearfulness amid black water in the bathtub and high pitched ringing in his ears. Nothing here is compelling, and a building a dark room montage followed by a comically sped up and blurred sex montage leads to months passing and a melodramatic proposal. We've seen no love, just unnecessary masturbation, bad sex, and poorly disguised mermaid/siren/succubus duplicity. Black out eyes, skin suits, BJs, and alluring powers of persuasion drag on alongside meetings between the used and abused dude bros – who think all women are lookalike bitches who corrupt, drain the life from a man, move on, and ruin him. Renovation revelations throw which chick is which questions into the mix, and the attempted commentary on codependency or mixed messages on reverse empowerment metaphors with women taking over men's bodies and stealing their ideas do not come across thanks to doppelganger stabbings and morphing into one another. The yawn-worthy final battles with not so clever twists just keep going on and on, and all I could do was keep checking the time because this is absolutely the wrong way to do sex and horror.

Recent Jonathan Rhys Meyers Horrors

 

Recent Jonathan Rhys Meyers Horrors

by Kristin Battestella

Jonathan Rhys Meyers has been a fine actor with some excellent films and series in his filmography. Although he continues to work consistently, his well documented personal troubles have sent him to making mostly direct to streaming, low budget fare. Some of these are decent, others...not so much. Here is a quartet of recent horror thrillers featuring JRM's élan – if not much else thanks to the usual one and the same writer/director culprits with no second eye to polish these parables.

Dangerous Game: The Legacy Murders – Yes, this 2022 title is clearly intended for franchise potential with billionaire mogul Jon Voight (Midnight Cowboy) summoning his estranged family to the luxury manor for what turns into a murder mystery fight to the death. Certainly, the premise is familiar; the prologue and opening credits with fun house horrors and newspaper clippings are cliché. Papa Jon wants to cement his legacy, and the snobbish progeny arrive via helicopters and boats to their private island. Crabby banter and seeding dialogue establish who's money it is, who isn't speaking to their sister, and how Jonathan Rhys Meyers (The Tudors) put dad out of the company to save the big business. New girlfriends are nervous but wives and teen grandkids egg on the arguments. They are, however, all rightfully impressed with the old school gothic house's fine stone, wrought iron, woodwork, and chandeliers. Unfortunately, the drunken bonding is hampered by bad cat omens and the mysterious arrival of our titular gift complete with gory crime scene photos and suspicious case files. A distorted voice over the intercom demands they play the game, but the family points fingers over who's behind this sick joke until alarms, red lighting, automatic shutters, and locked gates further insist they play the laid out and ready co-op board. The house's control room bears a warning sign not to enter, but the explosive consequences didn't need such hokey, modern, bad special effects. The mechanical voice is also hackneyed and unnecessary when there are enough personality and problem solving within the familial confrontations. There's no landline or medical supplies, so they must use the fireplace to cauterize wounds between debating who is at fault. Some attempt to play the game, studying the vintage photos and cryptext puzzles while others explore the house amid crackling electricity, wheelchair perils, and gas chambers. Blueprints, secret passages, and Roman numerals lead to hidden journals, serial killers, booby traps in the floor, a mad scientist laboratory, carved bodies, and threats to be cooked alive. Increasing boiling and vomit at the gory sights subtly anchor the who is in on it or knows what family skeletons debates better than fake fiery effects. Breaking from the house for dog chases, perilous wells, shootouts, and eyeballs loses any taut as the cast somehow plays it seriously despite the increasingly preposterous turns and extremely over the top guts and gore. The canned voice and murder flashbacks are for the audience not the family, but this doesn't seem meant to be taken seriously. Every stupid twist becomes so damn goofy that I can't really hate the ludicrous laugh at the screen results.

Disquiet – Car accidents and narrations about choices give away the metaphors going into this eighty minute 2023 hospital thriller starring Jonathan Rhys Meyers. Rather than some grandiose opening family perfection and wild vehicular stunts, however; we get right to the gurney, hectic doctors, beeping equipment, bandages, and fear. There's little dialogue to start beyond unanswered calls for help as time is taken on the discomfort – pulling out tubes, gagging blood, no phone signals, and once bedridden now suddenly virile patients attacking others. Clattering hospital trays lead to scalpels, scissors, violent stabbings, and missing bodies as our victim asks WTF is happening. Even if the premise is obvious, the man alone paranoia and confined elevator perils invoke that out of our element hospital feeling. Sirens and accident flashes add to the delirium, but it's a mistake to cut away from this taut, isolated start to meet another patient awake during her plastic surgery. Demonic looking babes are holding her down when our Sam enters wielding an IV pole, but it's better when he follows the screams rather than the audience meeting new patients away from his perspective. Those demon babes were also barely needed once and flashing back to them for no reason looks tacky and feels amateur. Sudden staff who give clues or warnings and then turn monstrous are better chills, and memories of Sam's wife parallel the creepy encounters. Gunshots and random hospital noises remain startling while crackling bulbs and ominous purple lighting create immediate darkness and disappearances. Red elevator buttons, white skylights in the stairwell, dark windows, and smokey floors below add atmosphere while the maze-like floors, bricked shut doors, and empty nursery with baby cries acerbate the repeating wounds and dead that won't stay dead. Our trapped wonder if they were drugged, dead, in a shared nightmare, a zombie apocalypse, or figments of their imaginations. Sam is a decent leader diffusing situations and getting everyone to work together, but a doctor in red named Lilith and a man in a wheelchair named Virgil debate the hospital maps, going to the roof for a signal, or going down to the lobby exit. This devil or angel on the shoulder purgatory is apparent – as are revelations about Sam's previous texting and driving, will never happen again fooling around, and selfish state of mind. This is a cerebral characterization not an all out escape the hospital horror, but the preachy, trite allegories get repetitive with montages of what we already knew and previously saw padding to meet the runtime. Instead of staying in Sam's point of view as the in film logic demands, we erroneously break away from the primary motivations and mistakes learned with flashbacks of the other characters. Rather than trust Meyers' capability, the story hits the audience on the head with yet more montages impeding the race to the roof inevitable. Although the ambiguous imperfections are frustrating and run out of steam; the unreliable simplicity, detailed performance, and positive choices made make for an entertaining midnight movie.

Split Decision

The Survivalist – I could do without a 2021 movie being post-apocalyptic due to COVID, but amateur radio broadcasts set the scenario amid bleak aerial shots, fallen infrastructure, and quarantine chaos as miraculous survivor John Malkovich (Shadow of the Vampire) pursues an immune girl to former FBI agent turned doomsday prepper JRM's isolated ranch. The back and forth start is unnecessary, but flashbacks of our Ben remembering his dad Julian Sands (Tale of the Vampire) ground the solitude. The audience sympathizes with Ben as he takes care of the girl and recalls cleaning up his dad's gambling debts that almost cost them their land. Their arguments about who had to work or who turned his back on the family could have been its own turbulent father/son drama filled with regrets and tough love – complete with fascinating role reversals and relatable performances from the responsible Meyers and late too soon Sands. The drama is better than the apocalypse try hard with weak devotees allegedly cured by the resurrected Aaron desperate to stay in his favor. They threaten Ben's fortifications, but all of their dialogue should have been given to the much more charismatic Malkovich. He won't take no for an answer and does seem to have a mystical obsession with the girl, for he has been ordained to save the world. One on one standoffs let the leads handle the who's outnumbered and bullets are precious tension. Wounds, empty handguns, out of breath runs between buildings – Ben was actually a mere mapmaker agent not some expert hero, and he is fed up with the barn confrontations, battles in his home, and being forced to kill in self-defense. Rather than have Aaron's menacing speeches following Ben at every encounter, Malkovich is erroneously reduced to sitting back while the inferior lackeys do the dirty work. Not a lot happens because of the divided focus between the man alone regrets and the would be raid action, and this picture seems changed from a drama to an action movie with the who's infected or a COVID carrier bookends generally being a non-factor. Instead of this uneven tone, a linear telling would have made more impact: all the tough love family flashbacks with worsening television and radio updates, the isolation preparation, then the girl appearing in the barn, and ultimately deluded messianic Malkovich knocking on the door. Ben gives each fanatical chance after chance – he didn't want to do any of this and finally snaps upon realizing it's all been for someone else's lies and consequences. Though watchable for the cast with interesting dramatic possibilities, the rushed virus connections fall back on generic weaknesses instead of maximizing the ensemble's potential for more.

Skip It

Hide and Seek – Joe Pantoliano (Memento) joins wealthy businessman JRM in this 2021 American remake of an Asian film complete with the obligatory creepy little kid. Our swanky, pretentious family even has matching outfits, but our dad Noah doesn't like the spilled syrup at breakfast and vehemently scrubs a mark on his cuff. Cleaning ladies come to their immaculate penthouse, too, but they have nothing to do. The rich scenes and high rise windows are well lit; however the downtrodden architecture, poor slums, and empty Art Deco pool scheduled for demolition are not. An interview with a crusty reporter shrewdly spills the family dirt about his cast out brother, and Noah looks for him amid the abandoned trash, creepy bums, crazy old ladies, and poor people just trying to survive. He doesn't want to touch anything in his brother's filthy apartment, and the angry neighbors are not forthcoming to the rich white guy asking questions. Decoy open doors force viewers to pay attention to what may be hiding in the dark, and Noah studies the vintage blueprints for secret closets and apartment connections. Bloody bathtubs, suicide notes, similar graffiti, flashlights, dirty waters, and distorted bathroom moments are well edited eerie. Holes in the sheet rock mar their once pristine penthouse; creepy noises in the walls and clanking pipes suggest someone else is at home. A stranger banging to be let in and a hand reaching in the mail slot provide our breach of home fears as the kids hide in the closet and footsteps roam the apartment. Unfortunately, today we would be immediately suspicious of someone who never takes off his motorcycle helmet. Building security saves the day but then there's no explanation how others evade the cameras and evidence that aren't used until convenient. Nightmare flashes of our crazy brother are laughable, and this can't decide if it's a stereotypical horror movie or just a straight thriller. One wonders if the story should have focused on either the upscale family fear or stayed in the dilapidated mystery rather than going back and forth between them. Noah's compulsive cleanliness is also dropped instead of escalating as his unwashed explorations increase. The resolution unravels in the final act with montages, deceased and lookalike confusion, and questions about what anybody really had to do with anything. Though somewhat surprising, the killer reveal feels racist, as if crazy poor minority folk are coming to steal your penthouse – squatting uptown fresh groceries and all. Meyers is believable as the family man under pressure and while decent entertainment up until the end, the contrived finale leaves viewers feeling like our time has been wasted. Pity.

Just Vamps 6!

Just Vamps 6!

by Kristin Battestella

Here we are on our sixth vampire viewing list – this time with a hungry helping of foreign, avante garde, and saucy little bloodsuckers to tempt your toothy grin.

Dracula's Widow – Red titles, neon signs, and late night storms set the Hollywood horror noir tone for this 1988 vamp moody from director Christopher Coppola (Deadfall) and starring Sylvia Krystel (Emmanuelle). Wax museum artifacts, rattling crates, and jar specimens add an old fashioned Gothic creepy while antiques, retro film reels, red spotlights, and colorful shadow schemes invoke period style. Musty books, horseshoe phones, swanky jazz, and classic cars are sweet, too – better than the dated hairstyles, shiny suits, and symbolic red splash screens inserted over the toothy bites. Krystel's forties femme suit and silky white shirt also mystically remain blood free despite claw-like webbed hands and bemusing gore. Camera irises, stockings, garters, and mid century hats do more for the noir update than the unnecessary bitter detective voiceover and cranky cop clichés – bad dialogue and unfortunate scene chewing miss the attempted dark comedy mark. This movie is very specific on the eighties does forties hot minute, and while audiences from those eras will recognize the look, most viewers today will just end up confused by the seemingly mishmashed genres thanks to the uneven then-contemporary hip and devil worshiping punk gangs intruding on the otherwise careful noir design. Fortunately, there are some good moments here, a lot of the campy works, and the eighty-eight minutes moves fast with investigation clues and vampire research – complete with a crazy, feeble Van Helsing who still has enough amazing strength to stake some vampires in the morgue. Interesting Renfield transformations and conflicts accent boobs, rack torture, bathtub perils, rituals, and slice and dice montages so laughable they are actually kind of good. Despite seriously Saturday morning cartoons ridiculous flying bat graphics and hammy interference, the eighties visual schemes do make for a unique yuppie horror retro and late night suave to fulfill your unintentional vampire comedy needs.

Lips of Blood – French Director Jean Rollin gets right to the mausoleums, Winnebagoes, shrouded bodies, coffins, and rituals in this more upscale than his usual 1975 tale. A somber score, beautiful but spooky memories, and a mysterious woman in white are immediately eerie while a colorful, swanky party and retro fashions create drama and a sophisticated foundation. Blocked childhoods, an overprotective mother, and castle ruins maybe real or imagined add to the secret cemetery passages, hidden tunnels, and questions regarding perfume, scent, and memory. Naturally, there's nudity both male and female complete with a bonus photography session, seventies bush, and masturbation. However, the saucy isn't as rampant here, and this has a more put together story compared to Rollin's usually thin plotlines. Although there is a bit of walking around filler, blue street lights and a moonlight ambiance anchor the after hours aquarium pursuits with an abandoned about the city feeling – there's a dead body in the water fountain and The Shiver of the Vampires is playing at the late night movies, too. Mysterious men follow on the subway while bells, alarms, abductions, and straight jackets intensify the bats, toothy vampire nurses, and undead who help one and hinder or kill another. Phone the mayor the hungry, naked, vampire chicks are loose so gather the staking posse! Though rushed in the end, the unique finale is well edited with an interesting mix of doubt, mystery, character drama, and a sexy creepy. Who's the worse villain – entombed vamp ladies or the village torch mob? And who knew coffins would float so well? Did we know this?

The Shiver of the Vampires – Pall bearers and a black and white graveside set the 1971 Jean Rollin mood before colorful castle ruins, overgrown greenery, and edgy music both embrace the heady and keep the medieval flair with torches, goblets, and candelabras. Howling winds, red lighting, and askew camera angles accent torture chambers and sacrifices, creating a surreal dreamscape with saucy vamps in ye olde but tie dye dresses. The bride in white contrasts those mourning in black while gruesome skulls belie the cathedral architecture, canopy beds, and rustic yet cozy fireplaces. She's too distraught for the marital bed – but our bride strips downs when a hippie woman humorously pops out of the grandfather clock and they lez be friends no questions asked. Sheer clothing doesn't cover the perky naughty bits, so they need all those furs to keep those caressing ladies warm. That poor lonely groom gets left out in the cold! More camera panning, vampire opportunists stepping in and out of the frame, and overhead shots parallel the us versus them debates and whirlwind talk of undead religions and vampire persecutions. Although flashbacks add to the dreamy tone, they also confuse the wild library scene and talk of past crusades, former vampire slayers, and predestined deadly fates. But hey, killer nipple spikes! Yes, the premise is thin with strung together coming to and going fro or looking cool, meandering scenes. Rather than one vampire perspective or the young couple viewpoint, the focus constantly resets. Who's dead? Who's alive? Who's undead? Rival vampire hierarchies at first seem tempting, but twists and true colors ultimately show. Granted, you can say that if you've seen one Rolling vampire movie, you've seen them all. However, had there been seriously proper writing, The Nude Vampire, Shiver of the Vampires, and Requiem for a Vampire could have been a fine trilogy. Fortunately, the nicer production values keep this bizarre romp brimming with an avante garde but no less creepy atmosphere.

Tale of a Vampire – A delicious Julian Sands (Warlock, people, Warlock) leads this 1992 brooding character study brimming with “Annabel Lee” and Poe references to match the bleak back alleys, dark morgues, abandoned blue buildings, and dreary British mood. Despite the underlying urge to bite, predatory love, black cats, creepy vampire beds, and sucking on some bloody fingers, this isn't a gorefest thanks to multilayered social awkwardness, melancholy, loss, and conflict. This lovelorn vampire spends his time in the rare books section of a sweet old library – you use that card catalog! The plot is unfortunately very slow, the isolated characters have no sounding board, and confusing flashbacks of lookalike women and lost bliss don't explain much. The centuries ago golden patinas are well shot, however the uneven pacing and flawed constructs interfere with the storytelling. We should have seen the past to start, using that previous to accent the current torment and slightly unreal, demented fairy tale tone. Why is the audience more sad than creeped by this thirsty stalker? Fine performances carry the drama once the characters actually interact by quoting history and poets in insightful two-handers. “'Tis better to have loved and lost” and all that. Lighting and shadow schemes add to the mysterious rivals, for good love or ill pain possibilities, and strange seductions. Can it really be love if a vampire's idea of romance is to consume the life of his lover? It's oddly pleasing to see this kind of twisted vampire bite symbolism rather than teenage moon eyes, and this simmer builds to a fine finale with some interesting surprises. While not scary, the Gothic romanticism and Victorian waxing on forever and death not being the end of love provide a solid helping of morbid and memento mori.

Dog Days and Werewolf Viewings!

Dog Days of Summer Horror!

By Kristin Battestella

Well, well.  What better way to usher in the Dog Star than by releasing our inner lycanthrope viewing pleasures?

Viewer’s Best Friend

Brotherhood of the Wolf – Yes, the dubbing and/or subtitles in this 2001 French action/horror/period Le Pacte Des Loups will automatically turn off some folks. However, the voiceovers and onscreen readings aren’t hokey at all, and the internal narration helps instead of hinders here. On form stars Vincent Cassel (Eastern Promises) and Monica Bellucci (Under Suspicion) do their own English tracks, and director Christophe Gans (Silent Hill) smartly filmed with little close ups to ease the dub matchings. Beautiful landscapes and photography, lush interiors and costumes add more than enough visual spice; the atmosphere, period music, and candlelight do wonders. The hearsay and speculation builds delightfully along with the mix of American Indian natural beliefs versus French hypocrisy and politics of the time. Though there is a serious overuse of slow motion stylings, 18^th century mullets, and too out of place Fu fight choreography, the nudity and brothel scenes do serve a purpose. True it’s not full on horror, uber scary, or that gory. There’s actually little wolfness in the first hour, the beast CGI is iffy, the 2 and ½ hour runtime is a little long, and though both are well done, the period mystery and supernatural cult action are a little inconsistent with each other. Nevertheless, it’s all damn entertaining for a foreign action/horror/period film.  Who knew?

Curse of the Werewolf – Oft Hammer director Terence Fisher (Horror of Dracula) helms this 1961 Spanish styled wolfy starring a creepy but tragically tormented Oliver Reed (Gladiator), the caring Clifford Evans (The Kiss of the Vampire), and the sad but buxom Yvonne Romain (Circus of Horrors).  As usual, the Spanish portrayals are somewhat stereotypical or plainly English barely disguised as Spanish.  The plot is quite slow to start as well, with plenty of boobs, nasty nobles, injustice, murder, and illicit pregnancies all before we get to the titular plight. Yes, what we get is dang good; it just seems as if we restart 3 times before finally getting to where the film is going. Thankfully, the 18^th century style, costumes, and carriages look sweet and colorful.  All the expected horror smoke, mirrors, and perfectly cued music and thunderclaps do their part.  The notion of a cursed child battling for his youth against a wolfish soul is also unique- none of this modern rugged and roguish teen dream business.  Religious subtext and medieval fears also add an extra dimension and it all makes we wish Hammer had done more werewolf pictures.

Dog Soldiers – I love this 2002 wolf warfare treat from writer and director Neil Marshall (The Descent, Centurion).  Kevin McKidd (Rome), Liam Cunningham (Hunger), and Sean Pertwee (Cold Feet) are delightfully good fun along with the well-paced but no less intense action and slow-brewed but no less scary horror.  There’s lovely photography-both confined, claustrophobic interior camerawork and wide scoping vista displays- to balance the horror siege and guerilla action style.  It’s all natural, too- not over saturated with digital designs.  Though perhaps subpar compared to the fancy effects we expect, the wolfy styles are also sweet. Marshall leaves no time for big 3D panoramic wolf risings when the intimate fighting is on. Why should he? The peril gets across better when you don’t immediately see the werewolves in all their glory, and the paranoia and performance play is allowed the spotlight instead. The humorous nods to the audience, thick accents, harsh language, Brit slang, and disturbingly good gore might be bothersome to some. However, there’s much more good to be had here than any such American hang-ups. Even knowing what happens, this movie gets me every time- and it looks great on blu ray, too. 

She Wolf of London – This 1946 short has a would be were-lady running amok in turn of the century England- and yes, it still looks good!  All the hallmarks are here: the disbelieving law, legends of cursed parentage, great button up rigidity hiding the doggy truth.  June Lockhart (Lost in Space) is our lovely distressing damsel-or is she?  However, it’s Sara Haden (Andy Hardy) as her Aunt Martha that’s so juicy, jealous lesbian-esque, and just a bit too wicked stepmother to really be so kind. The dialogue is perhaps too mid century for the onscreen action and it’s all probably too angry chick and not meant for male fans.  Although I suspect that was the point; I never saw a werewolf wear such great frocks and veils! It’s interesting that we don’t see the lycan hysteria as in today’s films- it’s all mostly off-screen attacks and fear of the beast that drives the suspense.  Yes, there’s more obvious mystery fun than true horror. However, the plot is tight and nicely paced, the silver palette crisp, and the angled and crooked photography atmospheric. Beat that!

Werewolf Hunter – Subtitled The Legend of Romasanta stateside, this 2004 Spanish production boasts a nice cast, smart editing, and lovely 1851 style and decoration.  Sinister as always Julian Sands (Warlock, A Room with a View) is his usual sexy and scary self, of course. The suspense and mystery are well paced; the intercutting between wolf attacks, various points of view, and investigative tactics add uniqueness compared to the typical American herky-jerky contemporary filmmaking. There’s a great wolf to human transformation, too, and a good dose of implied kink with nudity, naturally.  Tension, scares, disturbing deaths and horror despite no seriously overwhelming gore- even if this isn’t truly a 100% werewolf film, everything’s done right here.  After seeing this and Agora, I don’t know why we aren’t receiving more films via Spain.

Werewolf of London –Universal’s 1935 lycanthropy tale stars Henry Hull (Lifeboat) as our tormented scientist turned wolfy. Yes, it’s a bit heavy handed on the ‘good Christian England’ versus these exotic evil afflictions and abominations! The Tibet action is a little stereotypical and ill made, and the wolf makeup is not as good looking today.  Thankfully, the scares and screams shine through. The premise is still intriguing, and other onscreen laboratory tricks and period décor look smashing.  The women are perhaps too thirties and in some scenes downright annoying for modern viewers, but again, the juicy moral anguish wins.  Sure, it is probably too Jekyll and Hyde, but so what? The examination of man against beast and science versus morality works 75 years on. Who’d need CGI if we could still make gems like this?

Be Leary of thy Neighbor’s Pet

Red Riding Hood – The fine cast in this 2011 thriller meets fairytale- Amanda Seyfried (Mamma Mia!), Gary Oldman (Bram Stoker’s Dracula), Virginia Madsen (Candyman) and Julia Christie (Don’t Look Now)- overall aren’t too bad. I dare say the classy elder players are even on form and beyond.  The photography also looks perfect, with rustic medieval village designs and lovely snowbound mountainscapes. It was fun to guess at director Catherine Hardwicke’s (Twilight, big surprise) wolf mystery, suspect and identify the townsfolk, and call all the obvious red herrings whilst keeping in mind all the standard “What big eyes you have…” staples.  Unfortunately, this entire wolf teen dream triangle in the middle ages ala Twilight thing is getting waaayyyy old. Snoozer boys, blurry action bam boom werewolf designs, and a dumb ending stemming directly from this Twihard mess not only taints the tale but undoes all the positives for audiences who don’t want to be fed more googley eyes.  The Company of Wolves was better.

Rabid!

Van Helsing (2004) – Fans of Hugh Jackman (X-Men), Kate Bekinsale (Underworld), and David Wenham (Lord of the Rings) can enjoy parts of this vampire, wolf, and other random monster menagerie from writer and director Stephen Sommers’ (’99 The Mummy good, good Lord no G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra). Tragically, the rest of this overly CGI mess looks like someone forgot to clean the crap out of the cage.  What could have been something morally dark, seriously scary, and religiously anchored in the spirit of the Universal Monster predecessors is instead dumbed down to vampire eggs, fake flying chicks, bad accents, and worse jokes. I can’t believe they thought this was going to be a franchise.  What’s ever scarier: I attempted to read the novelization.  Shudder. Stick with Dracula: Dead and Loving It if you want camp.

Witchy Films

Which Witch is the Right Witchy Movie?

By Kristin Battestella

Though often woefully inaccurate with a potion of pointy hats, warts, and broomsticks- there’s something, well…magical about a good dose of cinematic witch-ware and brouhaha.

The Craft – High school and witchcraft oh my! Boys Breckin Meyer (Clueless) and especially Skeet Ulrich (Scream) are totally lame, but gals Robin Tunney (Empire Records, Prison Break), Neve Campbell (Party of Five, Wild Things), Rachel True (Half & Half), and a crazy good Farizku Balk (Valmont) are still cool. Yes, the music is the same as 1998 sexy witch successor Charmed.  However, even with the nineties smorgasbord of cast and ideas; the supernatural effects are still sweet, and the girls don’t look super ‘96 in the moment bad fashions thanks to the school uniform stylings.  Some of the ‘back on you’ scenes are indeed scary, too- especially if you have a problem with snakes. The wonderful Assumta Serna (Sharpe) and cruel Christine Taylor (The Brady Bunch) round out the light versus dark misuses as well. What girl hasn’t wished ill on the clique wicked or played light as a feather stiff as a board? I’m not sure how accurately portrayed the titular practices are onscreen, but the appreciation here is more intelligent, mature, and consequential than lighthearted broomstick fair. Sophisticated ladies can still enjoy and boys will love the legal jiggle.

Warlock – Let’s toss in Julian Sands (A Room with a View, Rose Red, Boxing Helena) and this 1989 time traveling scare fest for some juicy- nay badass-equal opportunity magic produced by Roger Corman (House of Usher).  Director Steve Miner (Friday the 13^th Part 2 and Part 3) does great with the colonial Massachusetts backdrop and carries the demonic mayhem into the eighties with so bad its good style from Lori Singer (Footloose, Fame, or as I simply say, Marc Singer’s sister). Meanwhile, fish out of water witch hunter Richard E. Grant (Bram Stoker’s Dracula) tries to thwart Big W from assembling an evil book that will uncreate existence. Yowza!  Some of the script speaketh from writer David Twohy (The Fugitive, G.I. Jane) is a little tough and the aforementioned datedness hinders some of the design and action, but of a sweeter titular man-witch, there is none- except for the lower in quality but just as kinky Warlock: The Armageddon (1993).

The Witches (1966) – This Hammer Horror wicked fest is chock full of tribal gone awry, polite but suspiciously Stepford townsfolk, creepy grandmas, and obligatory black cats. Let’s admit the effects and finale ritual are hokey, sure.  However, there are a few great shocker moments here along with swift editing and booming music to match the scares.  The mix of seemingly upscale rural England, witchdoctor mayhem, lovely locales, and on form sixties fashion designs work wonderfully as well.  Unfortunately, some may be very wigged out by a bloodless and tame but nonetheless disturbing rabbit butchering.  Again, the mystery unravels a bit in the end, but the debate of youth- too old to play with dolls but none of that naughty naughty with each other!- is doubly interesting along with what else is behind the schoolyard sinister: “A Sabbath, a meeting, an orgy perhaps.”  Naturally, classic Oscar dame Joan Fontaine (Suspicion, Rebecca) in her big screen swansong looks lovely, adds the film’s glue and sophistication, and most importantly doesn’t treat her horror ingénue as if the part was merely some two-bit paycheck. While we always expect such a thespian to put in her all, we don’t expect someone like be-frocked Joan Fontaine to get muddy or down with the bloody ritual. Bubble, cauldron, bubble! A ‘The World of Hammer: Wicked Women’ half hour treat on the DVD was sweet, too.

The Witches of Eastwick-  The all star cast- including Cher (Moonstruck), Michelle Pfeiffer (The Fabulous Baker Boys), Jack Nicholson (The Shining), Susan Sarandon (Dead Man Walking), Veronica Cartwright (Alien), and Carel Struycken (The Addams Family)- looks a little eighties bad fashions and big hair, yes. Granted director George Miller (Mad Max) is little slow to start things until the wicked and deliciously sent up Nicholson lights up the town, and yes, the fun comes a little undone for the big finish. But the ladies look damn great and the fun is a little too naughty for younger audiences, meow!  Though the subtitles don’t exactly match the witty dialogue, the dark comedy and ham up style are just right.  The tennis match, balloons, and poolside delights are all downright silly, yet it’s refreshing that the raunchy and good fun is in what is said, not what is actually shown. Take hint bad modern slasher remakes! There’s room for sexual subtext, demented imagination, and moral insights into the battle of the sexes here, and Sarandon’s buttoned up cellist gets, uh, very passionate about her music!

One Potentially Bad Brew

Spellbinder – Though I don’t like Kelly Preston (Twins, or rather John Travolta’s woman who was once shot by Charlie Sheen), am mostly indifferent to Tim Daly (Wings), and Rick Rossovich almost always says cheese about a film (Yes there’s Top Gun and The Terminator, but Pacific Blue anyone?)- this 1988 witch in love shtick is only half bad if you can get passed the leads. Of course, the styles are low eighties dated and the story is slow to start as it gets right to the bedroom kink- naughty but tame and almost nudeless kink- before anything else begins. The cultish mystery becomes much more interesting when director Janet Greek (Babylon 5) gets scary away from the no-chemistry fronts.  Seriously concerned secretary Diana Bellamy (Popular) and for once a good guy cop Cary-Hiroyuki Tagawa (Showdown in Little Toyko) and the warnings they provide are far more tantalizing, as is Audra Lindley (Mrs. Roper on Three’s Company!) as the creepy Mrs. White. The ‘pagan is evil’ portrayal is too heavy handed and Preston’s Valley delivery ruins the exposition of it all, but the coven scares and rituals ala The Wicker Man are perhaps juicy enough to keep this watchable for a late night alone.

For more magical mayhem see our previous insights on...

Practical Magic 

I Married a Witch 

Bell Book and Candle

Hex 

Dark Shadows 

Buffy 

The Witches (1990)  

Teen Witch

Harry Potter

Merlin

Mists of Avalon

The Wicker Man (2006)

Whew!