Bad Horror Writers

 

Bad Horror Writers

by Kristin Battestella

These writers thrust into isolated locales, killer nonsensical, deadline contrivances, and horror delirium go from quality bizarre to disturbingly terrible. Read on for the good, bad, and ugly of writers in peril.

Weird but Great

Images – Susannah York (They Shoot Horses, Don't They?) and Rene Auberjonois (Deep Space Nine) star in director Robert Altman's 1972 mind-bending venture with music by John Williams (Star Wars), splendid Irish locales, and freestyle life imitating art characterizations. Tinkling wind chimes and whimsical unicorn readings penned by York go from charming to chilling thanks to eerie artwork and anonymous phone calls providing her husband's hotel address. Typewriters, old school cameras, and horseshoe phones accent the frenetic writer's scribbling as she huddles childlike under the table with her crumpled papers before cowering in the bathroom over the imaginary man kissing her. Crystals, mirrors, a multi-level mod apartment, vintage cars, and a country house show pampered living facades before a disturbing point of view change. Our author sees herself drive up to the idyllic gingerbread house and the doppelganger knows she's watching – forcing viewers to pay attention amid the kitchen knives, smoking flue, and creepy antelope head upside down in camera lens. She was said to live here as a child with her grandfather and works on a jigsaw puzzle when not sticking her tongue out at the lookalike neighbor's daughter and claiming she was prettier at that age. Suggestions of abuse and affairs mount with untranslated French, a dead lover caressing her mouth, and a dirty neighbor licking her face. Balconies or above looking down camera angles reflect the burying guilt or suppressed urges while zooms on the internal retro camera make us voyeurs wonder what saucy it has seen. Shooting with a shotgun versus shooting via the lens layers the scene changes through doorways and tiger, butterfly, dog, or train metaphors. Flashback or phantom encounters with the ghost lover, rough neighbor, or routine husband keep us guessing, for Rene plays Hugh, Marcel plays Rene, and Hugh plays Marcel. Our disturbed wife also sees herself naked as the sense of self breaks with surprisingly calm, collected violence and blood. Not listening to your inner self degrades into fantasy blending with reality and literal over the edge waterfalls. The full circle prism and character study horror looks directly at our camera and our warped self-image. Though too nonsensical for many, such provocative horror leaves us asking questions long after the movie ends.

Had to Fast Forward 🤨

Winifred Meeks – Cliffside waves and “Dramatic Old Timey Music” open this 2021 ghost tale immediately padded with numerous credits, extra long still frames, driving to the seemingly quaint English manor, and no dialogue save for Sherlock Holmes on the radio. Slow, tedious rather than atmospheric shots of the dark foyer, empty rooms, and spooky windows abound amid rambling phone calls from mom and ghostly humming heard by the audience but not the protagonist. A mug and a laptop twelve minutes in are the first indication she's a writer, and supposed slice of life conversations are unnatural exposition about her book series. She watches Nosferatu on mute while we listen to the voice on the phone and observe from outside a rainy window, and it's unclear if this is a poor aesthetic choice or just a ghostly perspective. Deliberate, incidental movements begat drinking wine and watching House on Haunted Hill – entire scenes as if Vincent Price should receive a screen credit – before more radio speeches and laborious phone calls with her cheating boyfriend played over picturesque mountains and floral vignettes. The protagonist is a nonentity yet there's time for her to shower and wear a towel before being suddenly convinced that unseen odd happenings mean the manor is haunted. However the few and far between ghosts are for the viewer not the character – ten seconds worth before ten minutes of birds in the sky, strolls in the woods, and brushing her teeth. Tacked on asthma and a London recovery offer voicemails about clergy and parapsychologist failures, and a Geocities-esque website tells of an unstable religious sailor's wife starving herself while waiting for his lost at sea return. This potentially more interesting backstory is told in five minutes when I had to fast forward over a fireplace, clouds, waves, yoga, and castle ruins. The off putting pretty to look at and listening to nothing disconnect combined with an excessive use of borrowed media makes this on and on, neither showing nor telling twice as long. Perhaps we could forgive the innovative, solo, COVID filmmaking if there was a true narrative, but the haunting is inconsequential to the monotony.

Why Indeed

Why – 911 transcripts, Shakespeare quotes, CCTV footage, and slow opening credits open this 2021 exercise in what not to do. The drive to the horrors actually takes half the movie – complete with blaring music, repeated overhead shots, and a manuscript called “Are we there yet?” The parking garage splatter is well done, but the elaborate kills and exploitative naked girl crawling on the ground are pointless. Ocean hotels, bedroom romps, and camping sex restart the cliches while phone calls repeat everything we just saw. Shaky cam tours of the retreat with anonymous bodies hanging on the stairs and the killer eating his cereal are purely for the audience, and victims asking the titular question before their final head chop are laughable rather than thought provoking. Useless cinematography like a snake eating a frog and pine cones still lifes acerbate the aimless back and forths, convenience store trite, and uninteresting killer vignettes. Humorous cutaways ruin the isolate fears, which themselves jar with the rustic, coffee commercial idyllic photography. What is the woman in peril doing while we're watching the nonsensical crimes elsewhere? Our writer runs around the house avoiding the killer when he was so fast with the meaningless shock kills! His heavy breathing point of view has no purpose if we've already seen him, and once again a one and the same writer and director without a second eye creates an all over the place, first draft narrative. I like the idea of this old school horror stock company, but Chris Browning (Bosch), Natasha Henstridge (Species), Lance Henriksen (Aliens), and more of this cast and crew also teamed up for The Unleashed, perhaps in a fly by night two for one deal. There's no other motivation to this paint by numbers. Backward strobes, sirens, and crime tape montages look like they ran out of money yet the movie ends with derivative one year later book deals, dream scares, and babysitter gotchas. Having no answer to the killer question is probably supposed to be some meta point, but it only leaves the viewer asking why they are watching.

Appaloosa (2008)

Appaloosa A Quiet, Character Western

by Kristin Battestella

Co-writer, director, and producer Ed Harris (Pollock) also stars in the 2008 western Appaloosa. Based on the Robert B. Parker (Spencer for Hire) novel, this quiet character piece invokes a nostalgic, sophisticated atmosphere with period detail and fine performances.

It's the New Mexico Territory, 1882 and the town of Appaloosa calls in peacekeeper Virgil Cole (Harris) and his deputy Everett Hitch (Viggo Mortensen) to bring in murderous, power hungry rancher Randall Bragg (Jeremy Irons). Cole's reputation for the law proceeds him, however neither he nor his deputy know how to handle the affections of widow Allie French (Renee Zellweger) – much less interference of hired gun Ring Shelton (Lance Henriksen) amid train raids, corrupt trials, Chiricahua standoffs, and betrayed alliances.

Quick shootouts are the real law here, immediately setting the reckless tense as the narration tells of bitter soldiers post War between the States choosing sides in The West. Viewers must pay attention to the dialogue, for information happens fast amid the sophisticated conversations and legalese agreements. Despite rugged airs as enemies sit down at opposite sides of the table to share a whiskey, there's a civilized code of honor to the violence – chit chat on the law versus the outlaw as two sides of the same coin. Dual layers, rivalries, and subtle jealousy keep this character piece classy rather than embellishing the drama with try hard cool. However, Appaloosa gives our gents enough cowboy fun even if the buddy moments, verbal spars, and chuckles have a certain gravitas. Tender scenes between the fisticuffs don't hit the audience over the head with scandal, and good or bad, everybody wears black hats. The raids at dawn, jailbreak vigils, circuit judge, and sheriff escorts are common to the genre – Appaloosa feels similar to a lot of John Wayne or Richard Widmark pictures – but this isn't a knock off or spoof playing into the western winks. Appaloosa is also not a slow piece, however the film making itself may be pleasingly perceived as quiet. Players converse in reasonable length scenes, polite two-shots let the cast be, and no noticeable editing intrudes on the debate. Where today's movies often over rely on physical action replacing plot progression, here conflict happens with introspective character movement rather than crescendos. Dangerous bridges, abductions, and nail-biting negotiations are done in camera without zooms or bombastic antics. Personal and professional love triangles collide via the symbolic framework of an unfinished house, and horseback pursuits ride on alongside standoffs and treachery as enemies must work together before the final shootout.

Gruff in his beard Viggo Mortensen's (Eastern Promises) Everett Hitch may have quit his West Point commission but he's still never without his eight gauge shotgun. He may follow Virgil Cole, finish the shootout, pull him off in a fight, or back him up whichever hot or cold is required, yet the lawmen seem more like an equal pair rather than marshal in charge and obeying deputy. Townsfolk prefer discussing their predicament with the more amicable Hitch, and he's silently barters with a Chiricahua raiding party. Despite any bust ups on the case, he apologizes for Virgil's sandpaper ways because he gets the job done. Hitch refuses to debate whether he's a better gunslinger since Virgil is the undisputed best, but Cole says it's Hitch's emotions that keep him from the top. What will it take for him to step out of Virgil's shadow?Audiences today aren't used to seeing men talk about their sensitivity onscreen, but lawmen catching feelings can only lead to trouble and the emotion is a dynamic change of pace. Although Hitch chooses to be second fiddle, several critical scenes are from his point of view, and his larger than life shotgun posturing is often the center of the frame – visually, he is the true star of Appaloosa in the unspoken spirit of The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. Of course, black hat suave Ed Harris as Virgil Cole insists town leaders sign his way into law and warns victims he is a fast draw but will pistol whip a cowboy to get answers. Virgil's a cold killer but doesn't like a lady teasing him about being socially awkward. He's not well spoken and has a poor vocabulary but educates himself. While Cole is not without compassion, apologizes when warranted, and insists on being straight with Hitch; he's unaccustomed to the personal interfering with the professional, refusing to think about anything else until their quarry's caught. Can Cole give up his stubborn marshaling and idly retire in Appaloosa? Though not intended as homosexual, there is a deep, comforting trust between these characters – an inseparable bat man relationship with humor and caring a woman can't understand. Unfortunately, Virgil's blind to any jealously and needs Hitch's aide thanks to the hitherto unknown domestic.

Renee Zellweger (Chicago) as piano playing widow Allie French, however, has the men looking twice as she talks sassy and makes Cole blush. She wants to be with him but dislikes how his work will always be first. Allie doesn't want to be a part of his profession – especially when her life is at risk – and thus turns her flirtations toward the equally besotted Hitch. She's wise to the two men competing even if they don't seem to really know women at all. Hitch insists they are both “with Virgil” and not “with each other,” unaware of the deliberate game she is playing. Allie is not a foolish lady and does what she has to do. A woman in this era must stick with the nearest man to survive, and the higher the man, the better. Such pretty is going to be problematic, and Allie resents how a woman can't be the real boss outside of playing house. Although the character is meant to be wishy washy, the portrayal is too uneven and falls flat amid the stronger leads. Allie comes between the men because the plot says so, not because she is really going toe to toe with them in a shrewd, feminine game of chess. Despite unanswered questions about her, the character is unlikable rather than mysterious and there's no reason to care about her mixed motivations. The name Bragg, however, fits Jeremy Irons' (High Rise) power hungry rancher. He contests the lawmen at every turn, teasing Virgil about reading Emerson while gloating about their at odds social standing and his friends in high places. The one on ones are great when we get them, but Bragg needed a little more to do than bookend the piece with his crimes and swindles. There's no real reason why he goes from rancher to sheriff killer – refusing to surrender his rapist work hands doesn't create villainous dimension. There's more to his and the town story in the deleted scenes and behind the scenes discussions on the Appaloosa blu-ray set, but in a western, the bad guy just has to be the bad guy, so any added class from Irons is a bonus. Likewise, there should have been more to gun for hire Lance Henriksen (Near Dark). He's willing to fight at the Chiricahua raid or hold up a train – but the price influences which side he defends.

Ranch emblems, wooden buildings, and traditional western front architecture establish Appaloosa's Old West atmosphere along with numerous gun belts and cowboy hats. Desert vistas and mountainous scenery make those on horseback tiny on the dusty frontier while contrasting Victorian décor, wallpaper, oil lamps, and tea sets keep the interiors civilized. Carriages, outhouses, and saloon doors complete the expected western style yet Appaloosa remains colorful and bright without the commonly associated fifties pink or mid-century garish design. The muted look and old fashioned patina, however, is not so modern bleak, dark, and grainy that viewers can't see the nighttime action. The gunshots are also not outrageously loud, preferring a more natural pop and the resounding thud when a man drops. It's a surprising natural choice that makes the gun violence more ruthless, for these shootouts aren't rad cool action scenes but a fast draw where the killer doesn't bat an eye. Precious little language, nudity, brief horse injuries, and blood likewise refuse to bow to sensationalism. Instead Appaloosa has an amazing attention to detail with vintage costuming and period trains. Choice music is only used for otherwise quiet scenes and riding transitions, adding to the lawless beauty with guitar strings and Spanish motifs. Appaloosa is impressive for its mere twenty million dollar budget, again questioning why such mid-sized pictures have fallen out of Hollywood favor.

While underwhelming to some who think nothing but too much talking is happening, Appaloosa has an audience in fans of the cast and viewers seeking quality westerns. Granted, the plot could have been more well rounded between the law and the villains. This won't be a gritty two hours as some expect nor have enough lighthearted moments for others. Appaloosa is more about the character relationships and takes several viewings to pick up all the subtle dynamics. The straightforward story of buddy marshals versus bad guys and a woman coming between them provides enough layered nuances. Compared to the recent The Magnificent Seven remake that has all the extra bells and whistles yet felt lacking, Appaloosa has personality, quirks, and man versus man, man versus nature, and man versus himself conflict that better states the unspoken man's man without all the in your face. There are sequels to the source novel – today this would be a television series for sure – but I'd love to see this stock company continue doing more western character pieces. Appaloosa has a charming cast, location, and style with both western motifs of old as well as maturity and a modern sophistication worth a look.

Tales from the Crypt Season Three

Tales from the Crypt Season Three Stands Out

by Kristin Battestella

During Summer 1991, HBO's Third Season of Tales from the Crypt delivered fourteen episodes adapted from the Tales from the Crypt, Shock SuspenStories, The Vault of Horror, and Haunt of Fear comic book canon – and nearly every half hour plot steps up the sarcasm, star power, and scares.

The 'Honey, I'm home!' opening of the “Loved to Death” premiere leads to something saucy in the kitchen but it's just a bad script in progress by Andrew McCarthy (Weekend at Bernie's) when he's not fantasizing about his demanding actress neighbor Mariel Hemingway (Lipstick). Forget the old boombox and shoddy word processor – leather, lingerie, and boobs inspire his creativity and a watching big brother landlord speaking over the intercom braves him to knock on her door. Of course, she's not interested until he's successful, making for a bemusing mix of imagination and real world bitter from writer turned director Tom Mankiewicz (Live and Let Die). Unfortunately, subtle make up and costuming reflect the turnaround when a love potion makes the amorous too much to handle. The Crypt Keeper, meanwhile is smoking in bed with a headless skeleton as the escaped Kyle MacLachlan (Twin Peaks) opens “Carrion Death” with dusty Arizona manhunts, motorcycle chases, and fiery accidents. The desert setting invokes a barren purgatory as a vulture waits amid the echoes, gunshots, race to the border, and loot blowing in the wind. The no water, talking to himself delirium may seem slow for some audiences, however the sardonic trek, gore, and just desserts escalate once the handcuffs are on and there's no key. Back to the Future star Michael J. Fox directs Terri Garr (Tootsie) in “The Trap,” for her nasty husband has a life insurance policy and a coroner brother-in-law who can help fake a death. Bemusing morgue saws, faux dead make up, and a bumbling cover story combine for over the top funeral wailing, cremation mishaps, and tropical hideouts. The askew trials, double crosses, and mistaken identity aren't really horror, but the crime fits the screw here. Likewise, the memorable “Abra Cadaver” opens with a black and white morgue, autopsies, pretty corpses, necrophilia quips, and dangerous practical jokes on Beau Bridges (Stargate SG-1) by Tony Goldwyn (Scandal). The color present has high tech lab equipment and research debts owed for these experiments on brain function after clinical death – studies done with ritual altars, folk medicine, and poisoned scotch. The distorted voiceover and overhead camera angles match this appearance of death as the acute senses remain to experience the meat locker, hooks, saws, embalming, and John Doe toe tags as the warped mix of science and revenge creates blood trickling down the screen twists.

The Crypt Keeper does a little Mashed to Pieces Theatre in “Top Billing” as desperate Jon Lovitz (Saturday Night Love) fails another audition. He won't stoop to commercials like successful sellout Bruce Boxleitner (Scarecrow and Mrs. King), and this is an interesting commentary on the look being more important than the talent. Agent Louise Fletcher (One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest) says it's commerce and product, not art, that sells tickets, winking to the viewer as oft comedian Lovitz is determined to play Hamlet with intense director John Astin (The Addams Family). Will he kill for the part? This little back alley theater at 895 ½ needs a real skull for its Yorick. “The Reluctant Vampire” also begins with a traditional gothic atmosphere – before the alarm clock by the coffin and fang dentures on the night stand add modern humor as blood bank nightwatchman Mr. Longtooth Malcolm McDowell (A Clockwork Orange) dreads Mondays and The Keeper reads Vampirism Made Easy. Manager George Wendt's (Cheers) donation numbers don't add up, so our sensitive vamp – who doesn't drink direct from humans so he can respect himself in the morning – attacks an old lady's mugger to replace his martini makings in the vault. Certainly he asks if his victim has any blood born diseases before filling up the water cooler. He's saving the blood bank and taking a bite out of crime amid newspaper spinning montages, Transylvania soil myths, lighting candles at the snap of the fingers, and dangerous squirt guns with holy water. Van Helsing descendants are on the local talk shows, and Tales from the Crypt manages to be gothic and cute at the same time. Of course, Little CK has a Betty Croaker cookbook while womanizing reporter Steven Weber (Wings) keeps a tape recorder under the bed to get what's off the record when, as they say, pumping a source for information in “Mournin' Mess.” Hard nose editor Ally Walker (Sons of Anarchy) wants the scoop not drunk excuses, but suave spokeswoman Rita Wilson (Now and Then) spins the rhetoric on cleaning up the streets as the homeless murders mount. Dead witnesses and some literal cemetery digging lead to tunnels, coffins, skeletons, and underground revelations on The Grateful Homeless Outcasts and Unwanted Layaway Society, ahem, GHOULS. Although this starts off run of the mill, Tales from the Crypt continues to push the envelope with its grotesque.

As a kid I loved director Russell Mulcahy's (Highlander) “Split Second” and even had it on one of several made 'em myself Tales from the Crypt VHS mixes! Foreman Brion James (Blade Runner) seethes over his sassy waitress with a reputation turned hottie wife Michelle Johnson (Blame it on Rio) while her short shorts and tank top get skimpier for new lumberjack Billy Worth (The Lost Boys, you know, the “Death by stereo.”) Axes, chainsaws, and the inherent dangers on the job immediately hook the audience as the camera reflects the peril, speed, and saucy games people play – leading to new power tools, a violent comeuppance, and plenty of blood splatter. “Deadline,” however, would see drunk newsman Richard Jordan (Logan's Run) clean up his act for particular hooker Marg Helgenberger (CSI). Although the narrative bookends are unnecessary, the newsroom clickety clack adds nostalgic pressure, and his cranky editor wants a juicy murder headline or else. Fortunately – or unfortunately – Jon Polito (The Crow) gives him an exclusive, ironic scoop on a crime of passion gone awry. Tales from the Crypt's tongue in cheek is in full swing for “Spoiled” as bored housewife Faye Grant (V) loves the over the top scandals of her favorite soap There's Always Tomorrow. Her married to his work husband's basement experiments may make medical history, but they interrupt her fantasizing, too. Good thing 'Abel with the cable' repairman Anthony LaPaglia (Without a Trace) is there with all the connection in the bedroom innuendo, drafting a bemusing life imitating art mad science mix and self-aware commentary complete with Tales from the Crypt on the boob tube. Like the soaps, the saucy isn't actually shown – letting the male input and female boxes speak for themselves once the lovers play out their part. Series producer Robert Zemeckis directs the supersized “Yellow” finale with general Kirk Douglas (Spartacus), his lieutenant son Eric Douglas (The Golden Child), loyal captain Dan Aykroyd (Ghostbusters), and gritty sergeant Lance Henriksen (Near Dark) facing the no man's land trenches, explosions, and limbs lost of 1918 France. Battle failures, breaks in the communication line, family expectations, and the titular cowardice risk the chain of command, for this solider son refuses to kill and doesn't want to be killed, undermining his father's position as the enemy nears. Panic on the mission results in more slaughter and church held court marshals layer the religious iconography. It's okay for fathers and sons to be afraid to die, and one's a fool or a liar if he claims he isn't – especially when facing the firing squad. This is a serious parable about real fear and horrors, yet the episode is not out of place. Who says Tales from the Crypt has to be all cheeky all the time? Rather than the expected juicy or sensationalism, this unique choice sells itself with innate intensity and cruelty for one of the series' finest.

Of course, there are several less than perfect entries sagging Tales from the Crypt mid-season, including the late Tobe Hopper's (Texas Chainsaw Massacre) star studded “Dead Wait.” The thieves are arguing over small scale island plantations and pitiful pearl treasures, and should be tense chess conversations fall flat amid red hair superstitions, voodoo talk, and witch doctor suspicions. Jungle fever romance with red king takes black queen quips and sweaty sex with voodoo drums compromise the hanging ram heads and dead chickens in the bed – playing into the very exotical stereotypes that the dialogue warns one to respect. Each eighties era horror anthology series seems to have a problematic voodoo tale, but they are always about a white man looking for something sexy and dangerous with an obvious turnabout. The gore and creepy worms are fine – this isn't a terrible episode, but it doesn't zing as it should. The late night spoof with Whoopi Goldberg (Ghost) as The Crypt Keeper's guest is more fun. Painter Tim Roth (Rob Roy) doesn't get the showing he was promised and fantasizes about killing his agent in “Easel Kill Ya,” but some accidental violence and nearby deaths inspire his art. He channels his darkness into some gruesome canvases and sells the paintings to a creepy buyer, but he can't keep up with the killer demand for his art. Again the fatal twists and obsessive performances aren't the worst, but this tortured artist cum murderer plot is nothing new. “Undertaking Palor” also has obnoxious punks at the movies complaining about being one short in the Milk Duds box before they scare each other and capture it on camera. They break into the mortuary to raise the frights in their amateur film making and unfortunately discover twisted little practitioner John Glover (Smallville) using a Shop Vac for his latest embalming. The ironic classical music and Pepsi with pizza while the creepy mortician works makes for some delightful Tales from the Crypt grossness, but the juvenile found footage Nancy Drew mystery weakens what could have been wild had we seen the morgue conspiracy from the inside perspective. The Crypt Jam music video feature on the Tales from the Crypt Season Three DVD set is also a humorous little rap with babes, gore, and highlights from the year in a fittingly oh so nineties fashion both embarrassing and hysterical at the same time. The features also cheat slightly by listing two panel segments, for the first fifteen minute bonus recounting the history of EC Comics mid-century history and their ongoing relevance in horror is just pieced together from the second feature – which is the full half hour Comic Con discussion with voice of the Crypt Keeper John Kassir, producer Alan Katz, and additional crew telling more behind the scenes tales and answering audience questions. This DVD set also goes right to the menu without the “Kill Intro” theme playing only once per disc as in the previous video releases, and I like being able to see that spooky house opening per episode.

There are less fifties abstract and colorful comic designs for this season of Tales from the Crypt, but the seedy dark palette feels a little more nineties grown up to match the mayhem. Lots of familiar faces in supporting roles lend an extra sophistication with old televisions, rabbit ears, Polaroids, or T-n-A as icing on the cake per the humorous or grotesque plots as needed. That newfangled frivolous cable and HBO freedom allows Tales from the Crypt to exploit many women with then nudity, abuse, and victimizing. However, the series also has numerous working women in positions of power or ladies that give back all the ills deserved and never get naked to do so. Occasionally, the hammy over does it with stunt casting and humor falling flat, but bigger names, chilling stories, plenty of gore, quality production values, and heaps of ironic horror help Tales from the Crypt step up its winking formula for Season Three for a macabre and self referential but no less twisted good time. 

Tales from the Crypt Season 2

Tales from the Crypt Season Two Full of More Fun Horrors

by Kristin Battestella

The 1990 Second Season of HBO's Tales from the Crypt is the series' longest year with eighteen summer episodes full of the anthology's particular brand of adult horror and warped humor. John Kassir's Crypt Keeper is irreverent as ever with his macabre quips, infectious giggle, and deadpan puns – luring the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger behind the helm before a brief appearance with CK himself. More famous directors this season include Tales from the Crypt producers Richard Donner and Walter Hill alongside recurring series directors Fred Dekker (Night of the Creeps), Howard Deutch (Some Kind of Wonderful), and Tom Holland (Child's Play). Once again, the series embraces its campy, colorful, twisted source material, with stories from classic magazines such as Shock SuspenStories, Vault of Horror, Crypt of Terror, Haunt of Fear, and of course, Tales from the Crypt.

The most beautiful but bitchy, money hungry waitress Demi Moore (Ghost) marries the gluttonous Jeffrey Tambor (Arrested Development) in the immediately memorable “Dead Right” premiere. In 1950, $20 for the fortune teller was sure cheap, but the promised death and foretold inheritance are enough to overcome the rude courtship, terrible remarks, and revolting appearances. There's strip club saucy and off color charm, too – not to mention a morbid montage imagining all the hit and runs or fatal choking possibilities. The fat suit designs and cruel quips are also offensive, with intimate relations meant to be gross and uncomfortable. Fortunately, this being Tales from the Crypt, we know there will be a justified if ironic twist. Likewise, Emmy nominated William Hickey (Prizzi's Honor) is desperate to marry the young Kelly Preston (Twins) despite her objection that he is old enough to be her grandfather in “The Switch.” A plastic surgery face swap with the handsome Rick Rossovich (Pacific Blue) comes with a million dollar price tag and mad science to match. Unfortunately, the pretty face with an old man body isn't very alluring, and the price goes up as the Frankenstein style body parts lead to all the winks we expect. “Cutting Cards,” however, gets right to the western casino chase with gamblers Lance Henriksen (Near Dark) and Kevin Tighe (Emergency!) betting against each other in a purgatory style duel of dice, cards, and roulette. Calculating which chamber holds the bullet escalates to higher and higher stakes – like chop poker where the loser loses a finger. Despite the intense editing and cheating suspicions, this is a fun little two-hander – if you forgive the pun. Gunshots and tacky photo shoot montages with sunset backdrops and kissing silhouettes accent the Mayan amulets and non-linear editing in “The Thing From the Grave,” poking fun at the romance between model Teri Hatcher (Desperate Housewives) and photographer Kyle Secor (Homicide: Life on the Street) as its disrupted by her trigger happy boyfriend Miguel Ferrer (Crossing Jordan) and a little undead vengeance, as you do. All this while The Crypt Keeper is reading Playdead!

In “For Cryin' Out Loud,” Iggy Pop's crooked music manager Lee Arenberg (Pirates of the Caribbean) hears his conscious in the form of comic Sam Kinison. Unfortunately, he ignores the voice for seductive groupie with ulterior motives Katey Sagal (Sons of Anarchy), and some gross ear salves set off the murder, laughs, and warped irony. Cinderella farmhand Patricia Arquette (Medium) has a backwoods employer checking out her tiny white tank top in “Four-Sided Triangle.” Good thing there's a sexy scarecrow to help her! The nasty mood comes across without showing much – after all, “you beat the help but don't kill 'em.” This one's certainly a unique tale, complete with threats of turning real flesh and blood men from bulls into steers and killer hoes for good measure. Bobcat Goldthwait (Oh my gosh, Hot to Trot, people) wants to be a ventriloquist like his idol Don Rickles in “The Ventriloquist's Dummy,” but you can see his lips move and the dummy's head falls off, whoopsie! The crappy amateur night and cruel crowd add camp, but just when you think you've see it all when it comes to ventriloquism in horror, Tales from the Crypt pulls out meat grinders and designs both laughable and bizarre. “Asshole casserole,” I've never heard that one before! Then again appearances are everything for eighties yuppie Carol Kane (Taxi) in “Judy, You're Not Yourself Today.” Faux accents, French, tea times, and a gun toting husband aren't enough until a cosmetics lady comes calling for our wrinkle worrying Mrs. Alas, our sales lady has an indestructible switcheroo necklace, making for some twisted violence and wit. Cruel mortician Moses Gunn (Roots) anchors “Fitting Punishment” alongside morose organ music, mistaken biblical quotes, and post mortem scams for one of the season's finest. Embalming with water is cheaper than the real chemicals, and the dead's gold teeth get pulled – God helps those who help themselves and waste not want not! Coffins made in Taiwan are inexpensive, too – but shorter. If there's a spare box lying around, why not use it? Of course, this being Tales from the Crypt, cutting such bloody corners will come back to get you.

Illustrator Harry Anderson (Night Court) continues the quality with “Korman's Kalamity” when his bossy wife's experimental potency pills inadvertently bring his creative side to life. The Tales from the Crypt logos on the office door and Vault of Horror volumes on the shelf create a bemusing faux behind the scenes life imitating art, and the ridiculously phony comic book monsters match the colorful over the top designs. Tales from the Crypt admits this is a really weird idea, and that's exactly why we're watching. Distorted camera angles and smoky shadows also bring the grim turn of the century freak show to life in “Lower Berth.” There's two-faced caged oddities, dying freaks, desperate managers, and charlatans bartering rare Egyptian slave girl mummies. The stolen sarcophagus and cursed jewels may seem straightforward, but castration consequences and undead romance provide the surprisingly wild topper we never knew we needed. By contrast, “Mute Witness to Murder” is an upfront thriller with no humor as Richard Thomas (The Waltons) and Patricia Clarkson (Six Feet Under) provide the titular shocks with straight jackets, padded cells, and I know that you know that I know deceptions. Blue camera visuals, audio check ins to be let out, and strapped down beds invoke a scary helplessness. Someone else is in control with needles and drugs – making for some true suspense, fourth wall voyeurism, and camera as confessor. “Television Terror,” however, pokes fun at its tale within a tale talk show desperate for Geraldo scandals as our host recounts gruesome murders while his film crew follows with a camera and spotlight. Creepy static, ghostly splices, and bloody bathtubs wink in the night, and the OMG what was that humor is bemusingly prophetic regarding today's paranormal reality television craze. Tales from the Crypt finishes Year Two strong with the memorable penultimate “My Brother's Keeper.” Siamese yet opposite twins have some laughable connections – but can their butt attachment be separated and is the fifty/fifty chance worth it? Great dual filming and mirrored, but not always matching images or paired actions lead to more awkwardness, and of course, a lady comes between them – pun intended – along with crimes, cleavers, and cruel twists.

The Crypt Keeper is upset that Oliver has no Twist for the season finale “The Secret,” but Dickensian puns accent this austere orphanage with misbehaving boys and what happened to his parents whispers. Eerie blue transitions and askew camerawork add to the childlike reluctance when rich but mysterious adoptive parents whisk a boy away to their museum-like home. Good thing there's a room full of awesome toys and when asking for milk, the butler gives him milkshakes! Who cares if there are bars on all the windows? When not off painting the town red, our parents only come out at night – but they have a surprise in the works. The titular answer is probably obvious, but the innocence and charm have fun here, adding personality and the kind of unexpected finish that only Tales from the Crypt can do. While there aren't many bad episodes, Tales from the Crypt has a slight sophomore lag mid season with the voodoo clichés of “Til Death.” Though not as bad other other Caribbean horror attempts – the gore and zombie elements are scary as well as humorous – the stereotypical story resorts to a scorned Janet Hubert (Fresh Prince of Bel-Air) getting back at nasty white men messing with the local magic. Weaker writing and less famous casting also hampers the winning Tales from the Crypt formula in “Three's a Crowd” when a husband suspects his wife is up to no good with their wealthy friend after he lavishes them with gifts and an anniversary trip. The opportunity for suspicion feels there only because that conclusion has to happen for the yuppie mayhem to ensue, and the domestic violence is totally unnecessary. When Tales from the Crypt viewing was limited to weekly HBO waits or random late night repeats, audiences didn't care about any repetitiveness. However, watching this longer than usual season all together reveals too many similarly themed love triangles, greed, for love or money twists, and seedy fillers. Kim Delaney (NYPD Blue) and Michael Ironside (V) deserve more than murder for money in “The Sacrifice,” for moody L.A. cityscapes and saucy rocking the boat affairs lead to dirty blackmail and long walks off the short balcony, naturally.

1990 is also still pretty eighties dated, making Tales from the Crypt both look cheaper than it was yet adding a neo-noir atmosphere to some of the downtrodden macabre. Several episodes are more eighties does forties or fifties rockabilly style to match the record players, old televisions, cool cars, and swanky tunes. Of course, there are also triangular blazers, shoulder pads, Blossom hats, and high-waisted jeans – fatalities of the then hip over-emphasizing fashions along with granny panties, large tassels, and lingerie that reveals nothing. Such barely there nudity, ten seconds of strippers in the background, and mostly clothed make-outs courtesy of the HBO premium cable saucy is totally tame compared to the all but naked singers today, however I must say, the cigarettes, onscreen smoke, and liquored up attitudes are now more noticeably risqué. Quality blood and gory squirts, spills, or stabs also remain well done alongside red spotlights, blue lighting, and strong shadow and light schemes regardless of the anthology's setting. Creepy organ music accents the askew camera angles and colorful, intentionally faithful comic book design mirroring the Tales from the Crypt magazine sources. The supporting cast per episode is likewise always quality with numerous or occasionally re-appearing familiar faces in critical or twisted cameos. Unfortunately, it seems there is a lot of legalese tying up any blu-ray release and streaming rights, and until the brand new Tales from the Crypt box set, the Complete Series was only available by packaging the DVD collections together. The “kill intro” opening theme makes it easier to marathon the Season Two three disc set without repeating the credits, and Pimp CK does some new bemusements amid the menus and featurettes. His ghastly little supplies come from “Hacme,” and if you don't get that pun then you are too young to be watching the show.

One can easily forget these ghoulish mini movies are only a half hour, for Tales from the Crypt moves fast but keeps your attention during and after a viewing thanks to the brand's personality and self-referential ability to laugh at the gory with well written scripts and sardonic winks. It feels like there are more episodes of Tales from the Crypt than there actually are because the series ages well with many memorable times in this extended season. A creepy atmosphere and famous guest stars set the viewer up for the scary topper, and Tales from the Crypt Season Two remains perfect for a gruesome late night marathon.

Coastal Horrors and Watery Fears!

Coastal Horrors and Watery Fears!

By Kristin Battestella

These retro and recent seaside haunts, coastal killers, and watery frights are anything but scenic or picturesque for these dames, youths, coeds, and couples.

Bay Cove – Pamela Sue Martin (Dynasty) Tim Matheson (The West Wing), Woody Harrelson (Cheers), Jeff Conway (Grease), Barbara Billingsly (Leave it to Beaver), and more familiar retro faces star in this 1987 television movie going by several titles. Full moons, chanting, cemeteries, churches, candles, confessions, and lightning immediately invoke an evil, medieval mood contrasting the eighties women's business suits, shoulder pads, and complaining yuppies. All the denim, mod decor, jazz, and black satin slips go for a dated, trying to sexy mood, but that's quickly left behind after our couple hears about a chance to invest their construction business in a nearby island fixer upper – moving from the big city and starting a family unfortunately blinds them from that suspicious bargain price! Eighteenth century history, hidden rosaries, creepy old books, dogs versus cats, and a locked basement accent the increasing strange old landlady, odd neighbors, generational residents, and mysterious figures in the window. Despite pretty greens, beach-side birds chirping, and smooth ferries; all black clothes, spooky quilts, torches, and an escalating colonial tone build to tales of burning at the stake and an abandoned puritan past. Fishy headstone dates, pentagrams under the general store, and missing pets divide husband and wife alongside work and home conflicts, mistrustful realtors, and explosive jeep accidents that look quite good even with a then television low budget. Phantom ye olde dressed kids, melodramatic slow motions screams, and up close soft focusing are however, a bit much, and the credits rush over a somewhat corny finale. While the gaslighting, sacrifices, and midnight deadlines proceed as expected with twists that won't surprise most horror viewers, the crazy dreams, stormy nights, and hooded robes remain entertaining thanks to the likable cast and ghastly atmosphere.

Neverlake – The modern amid old stone buildings, winding rural roads, and crisp hint of snow quickly turn to morbid Shelly poems, floating bodies, and dead trees for a teen on a Tuscan visit to her doctor father in this 2012 Italian production. While creepy kid shocks, hitting over the head Peter Pan motifs, juvenile fantastics, and redundant narrations seem pedestrian; the family dynamics, would be step mother, suspicious research, and locked doors accent the Etruscan studies, fragile statues, and ancient artifacts. Whispers on the lost healing powers of the Lake of Idols and exploring alone in the woods become foreboding thanks to sickly green water and nighttime warnings – not to mention the severe looking nearby hospitals, escalating injuries, and sudden operations. Although eerie dreams may be an excuse for visual horrors or shock music and “Ominous Ambiance” closed captions are bemusing, subtle ghostly sounds, natural winds, and watery phantoms work alongside talk of life giving rituals and fine Arezzo locations. Freaky dolls, minimal technology, cemetery visits, and ticking clock experiments add to the rogue archaeology, stolen relics, hidden rooms, serious reveals, and family twists. At times, however, the plot stalls, skipping over explanations and more interesting Etruscan ties while going overboard on other parallels – voiceovers feel tacked on as do the obviously sinister mechanics, obligatory child horrors, and mystical attempts. The need to return the effigies, household frights, and medical surprises are intriguing enough without the misleading video cover and slasher label. While easy to solve for wise horror viewers, this pace feels meant for a younger audience and doesn't resort to overly trite Hollywood techniques. Though flawed, this directorial debut isn't bad and can be a nice little spooky ghost story for teen viewers looking for a unique scare.

The Prowler – Cape May filming locations accent this 1981 slasher alongside classic star Farley Granger (Strangers on a Train), black and white World War II newsreels, big band music, and swanky cars. Unfortunately, Dear John letters turn Avalon Bay's 1945 graduation dance into unexpected horror thanks to the titular mask wearing killer, battlefield get ups, pitchforks, and plenty of blood. While the 1980 switch brings a new dance with short shorts, bad flirting deputies, and feathered hair, the murderer is back on the loose attacking the disposable babes – good girl, slut, wallflower, frienemy. Despite dainty, braless frills and steamy shower boobs, some scenes here are laughable with a dated and not exactly stellar cast. The music isn't bad, but the dancing is pathetic, plot holes and disappearing characters come and go, the deputy just looks around rather than radioing for help, and a few stupid people don't know they are in a horror movie. Fortunately, the killer personality is unique, and interesting camera perspectives or the generally unseen beyond the retro get up filming accent very good effects from gore master Tom Savini (Dawn of the Dead) such as through the skull knives and poolside assaults with nasty yet realistic splatter. There are some false jump moments, but the tension raises and lowers organically without the need for amped up boos or crescendos. A creepy old man in a wheelchair, dark Victorian homes, cramped rooms, and covered furniture add to the chases, clues, desecrated graves, and fireplace shocks. The suspenseful stalking and shadowed silhouettes invoke more menace as the viewers guess who's next. Though perhaps obvious at times with a slightly limp ending, unexpected turns and gunshot toppers compliment the early slasher staples at work – wise audiences can see the influence on Scream and other spoofs. Lone settings and individual isolation do better than large scale terrors here, making for some entertaining, shout at the television viewing. He has a pitchfork, honey, a chain on the door isn't going to help!

You Make the Call!

Lake Eerie – A widow moves to a too good to be true lakeside house in this 2016 ghost and genre bender. The white chic and bright windows should be quaint, but creepy furniture, old pictures, phonographs, and 1969 décor draft an increasingly spooky atmosphere. Old archaeology, retro phones, and voices on the radio add more bizarre while no cell reception, power outages, and doors opening or closing by themselves escalate the tension. Ghostly winds blowing out the candles and phantom figures in the hallway make not knowing where everything is and searching for the matches or kitchen knife heavy – simple but effective fears amid sandy footprints in the house, locked drawers, and undiscovered museum relics. Concerned dad Lance Henriksen (Pumpkinhead) is only in a few scenes, but quirky neighbor Betsy Baker (The Evil Dead) knows a bit too much about the forty year vacancy, experiments, ancient amulets, and Egyptian mysticism. Attic searches and nightly visions create twists, and the inter-dimensional fantastic isn't all it seems. Exposition told rather than seen, however, becomes suspect mumbo jumbo – the fantastical technicalities, time limits, and mystic jewelry get a little too preposterous. The dark underworld finale is silly, tossing in a nonsensical maze that unravels all the spooky happenings that were doing just fine. Rocking camera pans, loud music, and ghostly POV strobes are unnecessary annoyances. Poorly delivered voiceovers contribute to the amateur acting, and rather than help hide the weak performances, the directing and editing calls attention to them. This family production certainly isn't perfect and ends up falling apart as it goes on – it's obvious from the start but might have enough intrigue and fun bemusement if you can take this ghost cum mystical story twist for what it is.