Wild Retro Frights!

Wild Retro Frights!

by Kristin Battestella

The decades of yore provide this wild trio of shady hep cats, international ladies of the night, evil Hollywood dames, and more. Yowza!

The Black Cat– Lucio Fulci (The Psychic) directs Patrick Magee (The Masque of the Red Death) in this loose 1981 Italian Poe adaptation with English subtitles to match the Tudor manors, cobblestone streets, and superstitious village. Low to the ground cameras provide our feline point of view as the misunderstood cat causes a victim to drive off the road before prowling the rooftops. Fine carpets, stairwells, woodwork, and antique clutter contrast reel to reel tapes, big microphones, and vintage recorders – retro technology trying to contact the dead and capture their ghostly laughter, screams, and sounds of death. Flashlights and exploring exposed tombs reveal creepy tunnels, cobwebs, and shackled skeletons. It's all somewhat random to start with boaters, tourists, concerned parents, motorcyclists, cruising teens, and perky ingenues. However, the air tight traps, foaming at the mouth, and overgrown cemeteries create a sinister afoot amid the country quaint. Growling, mesmerizing eyes, shadows, back alley pursuits – this conniving little pussy knows how to unlock the latch on the door for complete warehouse perils. Gory impalements don't over do the blood, yet there are enough scratches and claws to show how easily a cat can make you bleed. Psychic tips lead to mice and the decomposing deceased, and confounded police call on tourist photographers with old school giant cameras to document the dead. Surely the cute little paw prints at the crime scene can't mean this is all a cat's doing? It's amazing how the slightest feline action can be so deadly – knocking over an oil lamp near the fireplace becomes a face melting inferno. The poltergeist activity escalates, but the police refuse to consider something supernatural. Bound by their hatred or not, this medium should have known one can only telepathically make a cat do his bidding for so long. This cat is pissed and he's not going to take it anymore! Although most of the feline film work is bemusing, there are upsetting moments thanks to poisons and a noose for our four legged nemesis. Who some of the players are and how they all have a connected history also feels lost in the translation, but fortunately, we're here to go with the evil cat and not worry about the details as choice zooms, editing, and shrewd use of that old camera flash match the Edgar appropriate buried alive house of horrors. Bats and blunt violence culminate in twisted retribution, and giallo splatter, Hammer feeling, and Poe demented combine for a creative slasher with claws perfect for anyone who has a love hate relationship with his or her cat. Like me!

Death at Love House – Couple Robert Wagner (Hart to Hart) and Kate Jackson (Dark Shadows) are writing a book on Lorna Love and stay at the Old Hollywood starlet's creepy manor in this 1976 television movie. Gothic gates, winding drives, old fountains, and broken statues accent the past torrid and vintage bus tours, and there's a freaky shrine, too – the preserved corpse of our beauty lying in a glass coffin. Of course this print is obviously poor, but the retro Hollywood scenery, Golden cinema looks, and seventies California style make up any difference. I wish we could see the arches and wrought iron better, but the VHS quality kind of adds a dimly lit ominous to the Mediterranean villa as retro commercials provide a vintage patina. Housekeeper Silvia Sydney (Beetlejuice) isn't very forthcoming about enchanting portraits of the starlet, and newsreels of her funeral show a man in a cape with a black cat among the mourners. Malleus Maleficarum spell books on the shelf, sacrificial daggers, and crusty director John Carradine (Blood of Dracula's Castle) suggest Lorna was more evil than lovely, and talk of mirrors, souls, passion, and rivals like Dorothy Lamour (Road to Bali) add to the character unto herself à la Rebecca. Without over the top visuals or in your face action for the audience's benefit, the performances here carry the scandalous scares – jumping at the horrors as thunder punctuates terrifying encounters in the dark. Apparent heart attack victims, destroyed pictures, and warnings to leave Love House lead to locked doors, gas mishaps, and steamy showers while phonographs provide chilling music as Lorna seems to be looking out from the silver screen film reels with her hypnotic power. Bewitching dreams relive the past and wax on eternal youth as the ghostly obsessions grow. At times, the spiral stairs, red accents, and swanky are more romantic, but phantom ladies at the window and rumors of fiery rituals create sinister. Our husband is said to be going through the scrapbooks but he's not getting any work done, remaining in denial about the basement tunnels, cult altars, pentagrams, and mystical symbols. Although the Mrs. seems calm somehow once the truth comes out, too, the creepy masks and wild reveals make for a flaming finish. There are too many tongue in cheek winks for this to be full on horror nor can one expect proper glam and glory in such a brisk seventy-four minute network pace. However, this is good fun for a late night Hollywood ghost story full of meta vintage.

The Hooker Cult Murders – Detective Christopher Plummer (Somewhere in Time) investigates the death of Karen Black (Trilogy of Terror) in this 1973 Canadian thriller also called The Pyx. Like the giant headsets, adding machines, black and white photographs, and payphones, the print and sound here are poor old school quality. It's tough to see the long falls off tall buildings and hectic crime scene, but the radio chatter, jewelry clues, and casual French accent the Montreal locations. Unfortunately, the morgue attendants are in a hurry with their sarcasm over this seemingly routine dead hooker. Despite strong arm police and whispers of another missing working girl, witnesses aren't exactly forthcoming – not neighbors nor the “manager” of the “entertainment.” Talk of which of one of them is a Catholic, technically, or not that good of one anyway leads to crosses, statues, Latin mottos, sermons, and communion. However, the grand halls and gated arches created a sense of unwelcome outside looking in as flashbacks of the living now deceased include nude trysts, cigarettes, and smitten clients. The creepy dudes and the hysterics are a bit much, but the rules of the brothel are strict and there's a schedule to keep! Drug use leads to a convent and recovery, but our cop's obsessing over a dead hooker doesn't go over well at home, and the disjointed back and forth at times competes with the slow suspense. The mellow euphoric, flat music sung by Karen Black to go along with her shoot up scenes is, however, pretty campy. Memories of horses are meant to be something romantic, but the bemusing, nonsensical lyrics wax on red balloons, and it's all a dream within a dead person's flashback that's also somehow montaged with kids playing near her body chalk line. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Granted the songs are meant to be some kind of feminine character development, but with the bad sound and poor poetry, they detract from the car tailing, evidence in the trash, and drug stash in the sugar bowl. The strung out may insist it's only a little bit and she knows not to over do it, but we know she's in way over her head, foolishly thinking she can say no or choose the john. Swanky appointments and wine lead to promised payments if she tells him her whole history when to strip and reveal the truth about oneself and whether she believes in God is almost a more raw experience. Suspicious phone calls and mysterious men in black cars lead to more murders with blood on the carpet and bodies in the stairwell as the investigation comes together thanks to rough interrogations and upside down cross realizations. Candles, confessions, shootouts – it's wild how we're seeing the slow build up to her death yet it's only been a day since for our detective and the bodies are falling left and right. Sped up, chipmunk chanting is unintentionally funny, but the altars, flesh, and desecration escalate to confrontations perhaps with the devil himself – or just a corrupt dude or maybe some kind of snake thing, it's tough to tell. Tainted beverages, white robes, and black hood rituals mix with distorted visuals and standoffs, culminating in an almost simultaneous, chilling finale. The twofold film style is awkward and the title fronts the horror expectations while giving away the cult surprise, but this remains a fun, interesting romp for fans of the cast.

A Bonus Vincent Price Western!

The Baron of Arizona – Before he was a horror maestro, Vincent Price starred in this 1950 black and white western opening with 1912 cigars and toasts to statehood before recounting the 1872 tall tales of our ambitious swindler. Our eponymous clerk is angry that grandfathered grants give away land to ignorant people, so he forges a fictitious lineage back to 1748 with honorary titles and claims endorsed by the King of Spain. He talks down to Mexicans who can't read, explaining what every big word means as he proclaims an abandoned daughter is heiress to this great fortune, and it's weird that the narrative keeps going back to the men talking about the action to progress the timeline. Inscriptions are carved in stone to prove the barony as the girl is groomed for nobility – it's easy to make a peasant girl believe she is a princess with portraits, gifts, and dresses. Our suave villain, meanwhile, is creating fake graves and traveling to Spain to doctor rare documents. Shadows, black hats, and noir filming add a sinister mood to match the crimes while mission libraries, churches, and the crucifix create what should be a looming sense of guilt for our con, who joins an order just to perfect his forgery. Black hoods, candles, and old tomes at the biblioteca only lead to increased greed, hitches in the plan, daring escapes, and wagon chases with hysterical rear projection and billowing robes. All who encounter the grifter insist they don't know him or why they should trust him, but some flirting finesse leads to hiding out with the gypsy caravan until a rendezvous with the marquesa and a triumphant return with noble papers. The government would have no problem honoring a reasonable grant, but thousands of acres, all mineral and river rights in the territory, and a redrawn boundary with New Mexico understandably cause public resistance. Simple, shabby, sets begat grand manors and large rooms with models, maps, and innovations. Railroad business, irrigation plans, mining opportunities – getting the real local wealthy to invest hundreds of thousands is where the true con lies. And when the government offers to buy the barony for $25 million? Cha-ching! Farmers taking up arms and one on one rivalries lead to lawsuits, but that intruding, patronizing voiceover inexplicably disappears in favor of spinning newspapers detailing the local backlash, violence, and trials as the Department of the Interior comes calling. The pioneers, however, argue that they as white Americans are more entitled to Arizona than the older Spanish grants, and if you speak anything different, you are a traitor. From his grand coach, the gaslighting baron insists he is not taking over the territory for the money but to help these people make his barony great, and it's ironic to see such an obvious swindle then considering today's administration. When his wife the fictitious baroness now grown briefly doubts, he says it's just unnecessary guilt over her privilege, yet we can't take her soft spoken earnest seriously because she's standing by her man as he's convicted of conspiracy to defraud the nation. Confessions and suspect ink lead to a lynch mob finale where our baron's still smiling as he spouts condescending lies from the noose. Of course, the Hayes Code assures his wife still loves in in the end, but this isn't your typical western thanks to Price's carefully orchestrated charm. It's also interesting to look up this real life tale. Have you seen the wild mutton chops on this guy? Obviously we know he doesn't get away with it, but it's delicious to see how close he gets.

Female Frights Trio!

A Trio of Female Frights

by Kristin Battestella

This trio of lady horrors past and present provides plenty of paranormal revenge, quirky fatalities, and bizarre terrors for these women young or old. 

 

Dark Touch – Barking dogs, crying babies, thunderstorms, and young girls fleeing into the rain open this 2013 international co-production written and directed Marina de Van (Don't Look Back). Tongue injuries and unexplained bruises further belie the pretty Irish landscapes, and this contemporary, harsh, monochromatic house doesn't match the countryside. Yuppie doctors and reassuring adults calmly explain away why their daughter is traumatized in this home despite ringing in the ears and muffled screams inside the window. Flickering lights, footsteps, shadows, and locked doors build an ominous mood as children are told not to be afraid before they cry in bed over the subtle but no less nasty suggestions. Although nighttime blue lighting is a little too dark, clever editing makes the banging objects, moving furniture, chandelier frights, and crafty kills more terrible amid police discovery, tip toeing social workers, and acting out at the hospital. It will take time to adjust, but ongoing whispers, fear of belts, and back to school structure don't help heal this trauma. People are trying to help and see to our survivor's needs, but the awkward disconnection persists alongside secret photo albums, missing medical records, locking oneself in the bathroom, and refusing to bathe except fully clothed. Are the buzzing lights, breaking dishes, and garage mishaps something paranormal or uncontrolled telekinesis reacting to abuse? Other children are brutally honest in some refreshing exposition, and creepy sing songs lead to nearby abusers and gory retributions as a yellow patina shapes this surreal atmosphere where the fantastic allows hurt children to take matters into their own hands rather than suffer what goes on behind closed doors in this close knit, superstitious community. Adults insist it isn't this girl's fault that bad things happen, but they suspect worse as she recoils from any compassion and child's play becomes harmed dolls and fiery birthday parties. Trances and school barricades come full circle, but the well intended adults only question what they didn't know about the people closest to them when it's too late. At times, the slow pace and frequent screaming drag, and the supernatural aspects are also misleading. The artsy finale will be confusing as well, but the mix of nightmares real and horror make for interesting metaphors and conversations on the frightening truth and who really has the titular mark.

Office Killer – Carol Kane (Taxi), Molly Ringwald (The Breakfast Club), and Jeanne Tripplehorn (Basic Instinct) star in photographer turned director Cindy Sherman's 1997 dark satire of magazine deadlines, office downsizing, and meek but murderous co-workers. Phone gossip, bossy dames, cigarettes, big computers, and older fashions invoke a quirky noir feeling amid the mundane ticking clock and a greasy higher up man who's giving all the ladies his cold. The copier ink explodes on hard working Dorine with the crookedly drawn eyebrows, everyone forgets her name, and she's stuck at home making tea for her crabby old mother amid laptop upgrades and learn or get left behind memos. Late night tech support, power outages, red lighting, and orange glows make the office a little scary before creepy convulsions, thunderstorms, poison in the inhaler, and crossed wires frying associates. Morbid winks layer scenes amid well-filmed bungling crimes, messy mail room slices, and a homeless man catching one hauling out the deceased, but Dorine gains confidence in talking back to that mean corpse while the cat plays with the bodies piling up in the basement. Bloody flashbacks with sixties wagons suggest our mousy employee already had some sociopathy in her, but the trickle down office blame mixes the real world stinky of the ignored worker who sees all with horror, distorted camerawork, kaleidoscope effects, and twisted perspectives. Would she have killed if she had been treated nicely? Mom yearns for the days when a man ruled the house, and mean girls, jealousy, frienemies, and calls to the bitchy wife of the deceased from the girl he was smooching in the office create multi-faceted women's interplay. Sure let's go to lunch – so I can knock you out with a crowbar! Our little lady is pretty crafty when she wants, using primitive emails to get back at stealing accountants or cleaning decomposing bodies with Windex and making unique décor with body parts. Dorine trades tightly wound buns for better make up – letting her hair down as she receives the workplace respect she deserves. Is one hateful co-worker right to not take her sob story at face value and accuse her of playing on everyone's sympathy? It's one woman's word versus another, but the macabre, likable moments ultimately reveal how disturbed the seemingly mild-mannered Dorine truly is. The satire may be uneven, too on nose for some and not outright horror enough with bemusing violence and cut away splatter. However, the innocent, unassuming start results in flies buzzing, smelly discoveries, and a sinister character parable with shrewd commentary on women's relationships, workplace environments, childhood dynamics, social shapings of psychoses, and more.

Trilogy of Terror – Karen Black (Burnt Offerings) leads this 1975 made for television anthology from director Dan Curtis (Dark Shadows) and writer Richard Matheson (Somewhere in Time) beginning with the campus bells, bell bottoms, and coeds of “Julie.” One stud student wonders how hot this frumpy teacher would be with hazy fantasy intercuts and steamy suggestions as he spies on her undressing. Classroom talk on Faulkner rape and Fitzgerald violence lead to a spicy French vampire movie and a dollar for two large root beers at the drive in – spiked of course. It's surprising they got away with such disturbing date rape on mid-seventies television, as a check-in at the hotel as “Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Harker” leads to dark room photography and threatening notes forcing a woman to “meet” some of his friends before good old fashioned “I have the negatives” blackmail. Who is controlling whom? Newspaper scrapbooks and surprising revelations lead to the black and white reels and button up repression of Segment Two “Millicent and Therese.” Voiceover journaling recounts the family innuendo, cunning sister, fatal accidents, and satanism books on the shelf, but our prudish sibling won't let these perversions continue. All the lewd, sordid mentions are just talk done in one room confrontations – leaving enough saucy to the imagination in this near one woman show as a little voodoo puts the sibling rivalry into her own hands. Sure, it's obvious what's happening by time we see this tawdry sister in hot pants and platform shoes listening on the phone extension. However, it's taut fun, and I wish there were more star of the week, one actress in small set piece presentations today. “Amelia” adds one ugly little but cute in its own twisted way Zuni fetish tribal statue with a miniature spear, sharp teeth, and instructions on not removing its gold chain or the spirit inside will be released. .Awkward chats on the phone with mom provide comforting exposition while building drama – she wants to move on with her wild seventies kitchen, seriously floral wallpaper, shiny orange appliances, and bright teal carpet. Our tiny guy disappears under the couch, and initially, the talking to oneself is bemusing until bloody ankles, low camera angles, and tracking zooms across the floor create fear. Our young woman is home alone with scary sounds, hissing, and blood on her white robe. Yes, it is just a puppet, but the frenetic editing creates scares as this little sucker climbs up the bedskirt and sticks a stolen knife under the door. How does one explain this emergency when calling the police for help? Wrapping him in a towel or holding him under the water won't do the trick, but trapping him in a suitcase just might! Though hysterical as much as it is scary, this little battle makes for a memorable and wildly entertaining finish.

Mirrors and Mindbending Horror

Mirrors and Mindbenders!

By Kristin Battestella

What do we see when we watch horror? Take a bizarre look into the deceptive reflections, dopplegangers, demetia, and through the looking glass scares with this quartet of old time crazies and more recent optical thrillers. 
 

Alone in the Dark – A cult cast featuring veteran Jack Palance (City Slickers), minister Martin Landau (Mission: Impossible), unusual doctor Donald Pleasence (Halloween), and his new protege Dwight Schultz (The A-Team) adds class to this 1982 slasher full of topsy turvy patients. The solemn mental hospital locale is pretty but cluttered with knickknacks, loons, and converted with buzzed entries, faulty electrical systems, and bizarre treatments. Medical textbooks don't apply in this ward! This perilous crowding contrasts the new, open, family farmhouse potential, which soon finds itself in a fearful switcharoo. Who's a patient or employee? Who's harmless or dangerous? Some crazy rambling is confusing to start, but shadowed dorm rooms with spooky, whispered plotting create a paranoid atmosphere – especially when such heavyweight gents are doing the evil planning. A touch of hot pink sideways pony tails and punk bands remind us of the early eighties hip, but any datedness is quickly forgotten as violence, escapes, and riots escalate during the titular blackout. The crazy inside spreads outside quickly with one flick of the switch, and flashlights, lanterns, candles, and fire sell the precarious mood. Daylight doesn't alleviate the killer tendencies or child peril, and except for a fittingly sardonic little girl, the frightful is played seriously. While some jump scares and teen sex may seem commonplace now, these early genre staples are well paced and plenty of surprises, siege horror, creative weapons, and simmering kills make up any difference. Not only is there no cheap nudity or excess like today, but progressive talk about the pitfalls of wind power and nuclear energy add to the social commentaries at work. The fragile balance of polite society cracks pretty quickly once the kill or be killed terror flourishes here.

Mirror Mirror – Ironic country music and frightful orchestration accent the bloody period introduction of this 1990 teen creeper. Yes, that’s a generic title complete with a barebones DVD and no subtitles, but the spooky mix of antiques, hats, and shoulder pads make for a gothic mid century meets eighties style. Like dentistry, the innately eerie mirror aspects pack on the macabre along with blue lighting, distorted demonic voices, gruesome dreams, and bugs laying on the atmosphere. The 30-year-old looking teens in too much denim are mostly tolerable thanks to relatable new kid in town outsider feelings and feminine spins. Rainbow Harvest (Old Enough) is perhaps too wannabe Lydia from Beetlejuice and there is no sign of authority or investigation whatsoever, but the dark tone, a bemusing Yvonne De Carlo (The Munsters) handling the research, and the neurotic Karen Black (Burnt Offerings) make up any difference. This is a solid R, but the blood, nudity, water frights, and dog harm are done smartly without being excessive. The familiar Carrie, Teen Witch, and The Craft designs will be obvious to horror viewers, but it’s a fun 90 minutes of out of touch parents and teachers, high school cliques, and escalating creepy crimes. The titular evil from the other side takes hold for a wild finish – but never, ever put your hand down that garbage disposal, ever!

Oculus – Family scares, guns, and glowing eyes creepy get right to it as siblings are trying to both remember and forget their past tragedy in this 2013 mindbender full of askew dreams, unreliable memories, statues covered in sheets, and one cursed antique mirror. I would have preferred leads older than their early twenties – clearly appealing to the young it crowd – and despite an understandable awkward or instability, Karen Gillan (Guardians of the Galaxy) and Brenton Thwaites (Gods of Egypt) are too wooden at times. Fortunately, the more mature Katee Sackoff (Battlestar Galatica) and Rory Cochrane (Empire Records) and child support Annalise Basso (The Red Road) and Garrett Ryan (Dark House) do better. The non-linear past and present retelling, however, is confusing – the parallel plots aren't quite clear until the paranormal investigation brings everything together in one location with elaborate equipment, carefully orchestrated timers, and fail safes for a night of ghostly activity. The video documentation makes for smart exposition at the expense of a larger cast or showing the accursed historical events – replacing the tried and true research montage for today's audiences without resorting to the found footage gimmick. There are no in your face camera effects or zooms with booming music when the frightful appears, and the viewer is allowed to speculate on the seen or unseen reflections, there or maybe not whispering, and distorted blink and you miss them doppelgangers. Is there a psychological explanation or is this all supernatural? Although the recollections or flashbacks of the crisscrossing events should have been more polished – are we watching two, four, or six people as this battle replays itself? – the paranoia builds in both time frames with canine trauma and alternating suspense. Yes, there are Insidious similarities, the product placement and brand name dropping feels unnecessary, and the uneven plot merge cheats in its reflection on the warped or evil influences at work. The finale falters slightly as well, however, there is a quality discussion about the titular manipulation, and the time here remains entertaining as household horrors intensify. WWE Studios, who knew?

The Psychic – There are numerous titles – but no subtitles – for this 1977 Lucio Fulci (Zombi 2) giallo tale along with a typical driving montage, dated seventies euro pop, and the expected dubbing, accents, and vocal iffy. Fortunately, the graphic opening suicide, great looking cars, classic planes, country estates, hats, furs, and eponymous witnessing more than make up for any audio technicalities. Then upscale technology, radio, tape recorders, and answering machines add to the sophisticated style and Italian flair while a simmering, eerie score sets off the paranormal visions. Swift editing intercutting between the fearful Jennifer O'Neill (Summer of '42) and the fragmented imagery is layered with red, blood, violence, and screams, but her husband, doctors, and police remain skeptical even as evidence is found. Are these episodes stress, dreams, coincidence, obsession, or intuition? Our young wife plans on redoing an abandoned villa, but finds more secrets about the victims and the living amid the cobwebs, covered furniture, and mirrors. Has something occurred here or will it? Who is suspect? The Italian names may be tough for some, and the slightly obvious, tame for today story plays loose with terms like physic, clairvoyant, premonition, and what these powers actually are. There are convenient, self fulfilling prophecy plot points, too – secretaries who happen to know the facts, others do the legwork research, taxi driver connections are easily found. However, it's interesting to see that images and memories can be distorted, foretold objects misconstrued, or that the facts don't always come together as we thought. Although the heavy opening implies the 90 minutes plus will be full on horror house gore, the time is largely spent on the mystery investigation before punching it up with some shock moments in a superb action finale. Not everything here is as the audience may expect, and plenty of clues and surprises make for a nice little paranormal pursuit.