Classy Dames Do Fear 😱

 

Classy Dames Do Fear

By Kristin Battestella

These elegant ladies face mid-century murder, psychedelic mayhem, and medieval mysteries in this quartet of retro frights.

Cult of the Damned – Rich houses, antiques, elite splendor, and denial about one's father in the shower with another man and mother Jennifer Jones (Ruby Gentry) doing stag films open this 1969 AIP release also called Angel Angel Down We Go. The delusions escalate as daughter Holly Near (The Magical Garden of Stanley Sweetheart) feels fat and ugly compared to her not so perfect parents. Slit wrists intercut with guillotines, ironic music, and pop graffiti reflect our Angel's warped state of mind. Stage-like settings and twofer scenes reiterate the dysfunctional relationships mixing both oedipal and Electra favoritism, jealously, and violence. The top billed, soft focused Jones always has bare shoulders or sheer, glamorous frocks, pill popping yet graceful compared to her chaotic daughter, and her coming out party is really for them to show off how they have given her everything – save for the love and kindness she desires. They wonder who would want her save for her inheritance, but heady singers and tight leather pants lead to leopard print seduction, pillows, furs, and a goofy sex scene with Roddy McDowell (Planet of the Apes), singer Lou Rawls, and a pregnant girl dressed as pilgrim. Implied abuses, Angel's being taken advantage of brainwashing, kidnappings, and escalating gang violence are played humorously, and the parody of the times coming within those times gets lost in some of the put on groovy dialogue. Social commentaries on American Imperialism and palatial lifestyles collide with bloody pop art and fatal skydiving as the band moves in on our nasty parents. After all, making enough money through any means to buy class and erase who you were is an American rite of passage. Though certainly watchable thanks to the bizarre nonsensical; the random, joking style is not as shocking as it thinks it is. Colorful dancing and cool tunes with mean lyrics jar between solemn camera confessionals. The haze becomes boring and overlong thanks to the short lived highs and meaninglessness of it all. Such disturbia would have been better had the torment been played straight, but I don't really get a lot of the acid trip here – unless Angel died at the start and this was all just a final fever dream.

The Fourth Victim – Quaint English manors and swanky interiors lead to poolside perils, shady housekeepers, and handy death certificates in this international 1971 mystery. The body discovered is freshly clothed before phoning the authorities, and Scotland Yard is curious about pricey insurance policies, autopsies, and previously deceased wives with faulty brakes and suspect falls. Our nonchalant husband is unbothered by court inquiries thanks to the loyal housekeeper feigning tawdry melodramatics on the witness stand, and even the inspector admires him for getting rich off getting rid of three wives and now he can't be tried again. Carroll Baker (The Big Country), however, has been swimming in his pool. She claims to not read the papers nor care about his infamy, portraits of the deceased, or mementos in the attic. Her white bathing suit and neighborly carefree disrupts his strange, unfeeling calm, but her gothic home next door is dilapidated, spooky, and imposing to match the twists, eerie lookalikes, and ambiguous mysteries. More time is spent on the trial then their whirlwind wedding, but the bliss wears off fast thanks to his heavy handed accusations and her snooping. Now she wonders what he really did do to his last wife, yet their waxing on death and the courage to kill amid casual shopping trips and falling in love confessions show that our couple is actually a lot alike. Despite the emotional entanglements, fatal history, and institution connections; the characterizations are uneven with important players and pesky humor dropped. The overlong, stilted, askew male focus is dominated by unnecessary coming and going scenes with dated, over the top musical interludes. Thankfully, car chases and atmospheric flashbacks begat the unexpected in the final act as the maybe maybe not escalates with taut character interplay.

Sudden Fear – Frenetic notes contrast the sweeping melodic crescendos and Broadway billboards as successful playwright Joan Crawford (Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?) marries struggling young actor Jack Palance (Dan Curtis' Dracula) in the 1952 noir thriller. Of course we know Palance is up to no good, and our all business Myra exercises the casting approval for her play. She doesn't think he has the power to make the women in the audience squirm, but they meet again on the train to San Francisco – playing poker, wining, dining, and lighting each other's cigarettes. Cross coverage angles, up close shots, and sitting side by side visuals parallel the coming together traveling as holding hands leads to dancing, romantic strolls through the Redwoods, and Golden Gate vistas. Bling, furs, frocks, chandeliers, and classic cars accent the wealthy home complete with a custom dictating machine, hidden microphones, and master switches to record all her play compositions. The declarations of love on the staircase, hilltop honeymoon, and white robes create a play within a play romance while mirrors reflect the change in control. Our concerned Lester doesn't want Myra racing down the perilous steps to the dock, however marshmallow Gloria Grahame (In A Lonely Place) is not what she seems thanks to secret meetings, blackmail, and long cons. Again visuals layer the silk pajamas and key to her apartment innuendo, but head over heels Myra redoes her will with Lester as beneficiary. The dictation playback forces us to pay attention as the Oscar nominated Crawford hears the pillow talk and duplicitous plotting – a crushing performance with tragic tears and crippling shock as the stuck needle repeats the threats. Everything has gone up a notch yet the betrayal remains personal with shattering breaks, looking over her shoulder hysteria, and double locking the doors. The echoes haunt Myra into the bedroom as she postulates what car accident or smothering might befall her. Now she has to be the actress, claiming a headache or too much champagne and refusing Lester's offered sleeping pill. Lying awake with the black and white shadows and ticking clocks escalates to forged signatures, break ins, and poison. Sophisticated tension rises with every cocktail, change of plans, and slight of hand amid scandalous stockings, falls down the stairs, and in camera attention to detail. The scheduled actions happen down to the minute with gunshots and kill or be killed overlays that don't underestimate the viewer. Intense zooms focus on the tormented faces while pearl watches keep time and white gloves hide all the secrets. Silence and phone ring rings are used to maximum advantage with beads of sweat, perilous close calls, and the fright of seeing one in the mirror holding a gun. Our desperate dame is out of her element in a no win situation. Bad people are supposed to get what they deserve and Myra must remain good despite chases, spotlights, lookalike ladies, and rear view mirrors culminating in noir perfection.

An Elizabeth Taylor Bonus

Doctor Faustus – Producer Richard Burton (The Robe) co-directs this 1968 play presentation based on the medieval Marlowe's pact with Lucifer, however the stifling script, flowery soliloquies, and dry over acting hamper the excellent bones, candles, cobwebs, and sixteenth century mood. Learned science is so close to superstition and alchemy, and our dissatisfied scholar resorts to Latin rituals, ominous tomes, maggots, and necromancy. Red cloaks, orange firelight, purple sorcery, blue catacombs, green stones, and black wings invoke the hellish historical meets silent Expressionism. Zooms, in and out of focus mirages, and tense camerawork highlight moving statues and magical skulls speaking back to Faustus as he boasts of his bargains with the devil, undeterred in signing in blood thanks to his youthful transformation. Unfortunately, Burton does his best Orson Welles self-indulgence here, paralleling the tale by biting off more than he can chew when not imaging the supple Elizabeth Taylor (Cleopatra) as Helen of Troy for his perfect, silent woman. The thee thou bloated text and Burton talking to himself voiceovers are unnecessarily scholarly compared to the cinematic, medieval visuals – making the piece seem much longer and more complicated than it is. There is no sounding board character and the language should have been trimmed, for it's not the Oxford University's Acting Company's provocative questions but Burton's over the top windblown me me me that's tepid and detached. Actor turned professor Andreas Teuber as Mephistopheles is far more haunting as the tormented fallen pained at losing eternal bliss, for hell is limitless with no boundaries to its sins. Slow motion, back flipping nymphs and imagined battlefield glory are a little long, however it's fitting that Faustus doesn't realize he is a mere, foolish, mortal man. The hedonistic kaleidoscope parade of lechery provides surreal haze without being trashy, and Burton's best poetry and passion come in the embraces with Taylor. He debates the emperor over his conjuring, mocks the court, and scoffs at the pope as humor and sing songs turn into freaky hoods, screams, and damnation. Who is Faustus to argue with evil? No matter how many times he stops to ogle Taylor's dripping allure, Faustus ends up looking upon himself in the grave, ultimately getting the celestial comeuppance he deserves. The redemption versus selling one's soul parables make for fine horror, deception, and choices – not to mention Elizabeth Taylor in sensual gold lipstick and glowing silver body paint.

Egyptian and Roman Epics!

Egypt and Rome, Beware the Ides!

By Kristin Battestella

Spoiler alert, somebody's going to get stabbed in the back, once, twice, maybe thrice in this list of classic, epic, historical, and dramatic tales bringing Egypt and Rome together again to party like its 44 B.C. Toga! Toga!

Caesar and Cleopatra – Claude Rains and Vivien Leigh make an unlikely comedy team in this 1945 British adaptation of the George Bernard Shaw play. Although some temple sets seem small scale cardboard now, the then expensive Technicolor headdresses, plumes, horses, sand, and centurions serve the ancient mood. Considering the wartime strapped production, this is a very fine looking film, and Steward Granger (Scaramouche) makes for a tan, dandy matinee idol, too. This is, however, a wordy picture – we don't see battles, just a lot of leftover standing around and talking in a slightly overlong two hours and change. Fortunately, the humorous arguing on which cousins are descended from gods and which mere mortals are descended from kings add forum self-awareness, a parody on the omnipresent chorus and chattering ladies who feel the need to put in their two cents – er, drachma. Raines (Casablanca) brings an immediate charm as a reflective, even doubtful Caesar more concerned with careful government than Cleopatra's me me me. The ridiculously delightful rug transit moments come after the witty conversations waxing on wrinkly old men, magic dreams, and rumors of Romans having tiger's blood. Caesar doesn't eat women – only girls and cats! And are those Roman sandal wedges he's wearing? Though not without some seriousness, the goofy cleverness of these two empire making titans is a pleasing change from the expected heavy to end all heavies. This Princess Cleo is learning how to rule and toughening up thanks to her mentor Caesar's tips. Yes, throw the obnoxious cry baby Ptolemy off that throne! Leigh's look is as gorgeous as ever, although it will be tough to separate our Gone with the Wind feelings since she still has a southern and shrill if fitting juvenile sound. Sadly, poor Flora Robson (The Sea Hawk) is basically in blackface with jokes about her Ftatateeta name alongside a stereotypical negro slave who is so scared of Caesar he runs away crying “Woe, alas!” Such racist and condescending humor is not a tone to enjoy, however such social layers make for an interesting study. This is Shaw's turn of the century commentary on ancient history remade in the shadow of World War II – Roman salutes recall then current Nazi threats while prophetic “Egypt for Egyptians!” crowds chant. The dated attitudes toe the line, but thankfully, the preposterous plot and not taking itself too seriously keep the fun scene chewing performances and star power bemusing.

Cleopatra – Am I the only one who thinks specifically of Elizabeth Taylor rolling out of the carpet when one mentions Cleopatra? Probably not thanks to this long 1963 Joseph L. Mankiewicz (All About Eve) spectacle co-starring off screen steamy with Richard Burton, the then most expensive studio bankrupting budget of the time, an emergency tracheotomy, a record amount of Oscar worthy costumes – oh, and Rex Harrison (My Fair Lady), Roddy McDowell (Planet of the Apes), Martin Landau (Mission: Impossible), and more. Award winning cinematography, vivid outdoor scenery, colorful temple motifs, lavish set dressings, and a lovely score can't always save the restored, four hour windblown when the constantly changing script lags. This should be a straightforward story, a finale with which the audience is ever familiar – crossword clue: three letter word for “Cleo's snake.” But break out the superlatives, hyperbole, and pompous, for the second half here falls prey to the Burton School of Overacting^tm. Liz and Dick talk a cat and mouse (guess who is who) game, turning history into tawdry, back and forth, “You hang up. No you hang up first!” semantics. Despite the asp in the basket, the messy battles and increasingly empty scenes don't know when to end. Granted, reshoots and editing are more at fault than the talent – dialogue and characters don't make sense if you think too hard and the distant Todd-AO widescreen lacks emotional up close shots. Everything that could go wrong on a picture did go wrong here, so it's amazing this is so watchable at all. Fortunately, McDowell is in slick control as Octavian and Harrison grounds the superior first leg as a respectable, surprisingly kind but epileptic Caesar. He's going to listen and listen good, because Miss C says so no matter how misogynistic Romans are. It's a serious but charming battle of wills, and a much more palatable chemistry where the empirical politics don't feel superfluous. Risque fabrics, Dame Elizabeth lying pretty – that entrance is indeed epic in representing these egos going head to head in love and war. It's at once fifties old school with tense history and mid century melodrama yet breaking new ground off camera in then changing cinema times. Are there inaccuracies here that will delight or aggravate historians and cinephiles alike? Hells yeah. Nonetheless, this entertaining megalith is great for a toga party marathon and spot the trachea scar drinking game. 
 

Cleopatra – The slightly elusive bare bones DVD edition of this three hour 1999 ABC/Hallmark miniseries based on the Margaret George novel has no subtitles but lots of whispering low volume. Viewers can't expect much spectacle from a fifteen year old television production either, and the distant CGI landscapes, faux sphinx, small scale battles, and on the seas action are unnecessary distractions. Though, like other bibliophiles, I still mourn the Library of Alexandria, the nighttime scenery is too dark, and the slow starting pace remains uneven thanks to pointless dalliance and superfluous happenings. Ironically, this famous femme tale feels like a boy's club thanks to better male actors – even the lovable Irish centurion Daragh O'Malley (Sharpe) – and the unknown, pretty models look laughable in soap opera-esque costume party catfights. Whew! Fortunately, the opening scroll sets the scene for Egyptian exile, dynastic strife, and alliances with Rome alongside colorful statues, red capes, legion gear, familiar headdresses, and bustling temples. The slightly sheer robes and saucy sex romps are somewhat surprising for a Hallmark production, too – not to mention those Ptolemies intermarrying and all. Initially, Timothy Dalton (License to Kill) as Caesar is level headed and all business, educating Cleopatra in how to rule. His romantic scenes with Leonor Varela (Blade II) are awkward, however, their age gap and the historical culture clashing is also fitting. Maybe his feelings are genuine, but Rome will always come first for Caesar. Rather than responding shrewdly to her poor reception in Rome, this Cleo drops the baby scandal in public like a crazy clueless side chick. Sean Pertwee (Gotham) as Brutus gets his back stabbing moment halfway through, but Billy Zane's (Dead Calm) accent wavers once an unfortunately wimpy Marc Antony gets his Egyptian enchantment. The last hour looses steam by dropping much of Marc Antony in Egypt – including his children with Cleopatra – and dragging out the snake action finale too long. Told properly with more suave and trim finesse, this story could have been done in two hours and change. While not as epic or memorable as the 1963 telling, this update feels more palatable for today's audiences or condensed classroom showings. But where in the heck was Richard Armitage in this?

Actual History!

Empires: The Roman Empire in the First Century – Sigourney Weaver narrates this 2001 documentary overflowing with more than three hours of history detailing the final BC years of Caesar's love triangles, the Augustus establishment, and the unlikely Claudius before Caligula's madness, Nero's infamy, Vespasian's military might, and everyone in between. The two show legs are actually four episodes titled “Order from Chaos,” “Years of Trial,” “Winds of Change,” and “Years of Eruption” with further chapter breakdowns, maps, and onscreen notations wrangling the dense subject matter full of epic scandals and battlefield prowess versus political shrewd. The Italian locations, ruins, and frescoes make for a lovely video tour while today's scholars, historical sources, and Ovid poetry add a tangible anchor to the relatively quick, by Emperor chronological order peppered with a Roman who's who of Tiberius, Germanicus, Seneca, and Agrippina. The lack of sources on Roman women is discussed alongside at times emotional first hand accounts, social mobility, and the all importance of status in Rome. Turns out the struggles of the common people were not all that different from today, and the baths, feasting, frolicking, and chariot races shine thanks to ancient satire and gossips. The narrative touches upon Jesus, Christianity, Paul, and Josephus as well as strife from Egypt to Britannia changing Roman culture – and the ironic, so-called Roman Peace bought with warfare. Pompeii is a fitting place to conclude, however, the time lingers with a tacked on Domitian and too brief a discussion of slavery and freedmen in Rome before almost an afterthought on Trajan glory. Some saucy subject matter, naughty poetry, and erotic frescoes are addressed, and the Judeo-Christian themes are perhaps not for a secular classroom. Fortunately, the individual segments make it easy to skip any problematic moments for education viewings. From its rocky birth to the Colosseum, this is a pleasant and informative encapsulation of the Rome we know and love.

Burton Bonus!

The Robe – Delightful color, scenic detail, and perfectly B.C. splendor with a score to match anchor this 1953 biblical drama based upon the popular Lloyd C. Douglas novel. Distant matte backdrops are occasionally apparent, and a final half hour of sword fights, dungeon rescues, and chariot pursuits feel like fast, shoehorned in action in a largely quiet, introspective, and timeless tale. However, the debut Cinemascope technique captures all the foreground and background movement within the frame, making coming and going or asides and internal angst a much nicer visual treat for the eye than today's at the screen, in your face effects. Perhaps now this two hour and thirteen minute ode has become somewhat second tier compared to later biblical epics such as The Ten Commandments or Ben-Hur, but the crucifixion scenes are excellent, a harrowing and stormy montage that remain powerful, perennial viewing. Yes, Richard Burton is sometimes stiff in his scenes with the classy and ever lovely Jean Simmons (Guys and Dolls). He's overwrought at times, too – just a little – but Marcellus is the tribune being haunted by Christ's blood stained garment won in a bet beneath the Cross. If ever there was a time where some hysterical is okay, this would be it! Nevertheless, Burton is also surprisingly somber and subtle, making for some fine tender, reflective moments. The supporting ensemble is also reverent and wonderfully soft spoken, with convert catalyst Victor Mature (also of the sequel Demetrius and the Gladiators) on his own touching character arc. Of course, depending on the mood you're in, Jay Robinson (The Virgin Queen) as Caligula is either maniacally evil perfection or an annoying brat – but it is Caligula, what did you expect? Commentaries, Martin Scorsese analysis, Cinemascope conversations, Bible in Hollywood documentaries, and more lengthy behind the scenes features accent the Special Edition blu-ray release as well. There is a whiff of blacklist turmoil paralleling the tolerance onscreen, however such veiled statements are made without overtaking the picture. This well done story handles spiritual change with honestly rather than as something abstract or mystical, resulting in a seemingly simple but no less transformative picture brimming with redemption for spirited folk, church classrooms, and classic film fans of all ages.

Warped Wombs and Creepy Kids

Warped Wombs and Creepy Children

by Kristin Battestella

This quartet of seventies scares is full of evil kids, demented moms, and twisted science. Because we can never have enough of such macabre reproduction horrors...not!

The Brood – Mind and body horrors run rampant in this 1979 David Cronenberg (Shivers) allegory starring an on form Oliver Reed (Burnt Offerings), sympathetic dad Art Hindle (Black Christmas), and a crazy “Mummies never hurt their children” Samantha Eggar (The Collector). Harsh one on one psychological exercises, intense therapy, heavy confrontations, and upsetting family actions shape the believable anger and discomforting dialogue, layering the icky delusions and abuse suspicious before the violent attacks, blunt trauma, and blood spilled in what should be a safe visit to grandma's ye olde kitchen. The cutaway editing and low angle filming smartly disguises the unseen culprits while hissing, gurgling, and screaming create a look away repulsion to delay the creature reveal. Those are strong little suckers! Polaroids, old toys, a natural look, and rustic colors counter the strung out feelings, skeptical on edge, and simmering Howard Shore (The Lord of the Rings) music while the repressed character drama balances the metaphysical and fantastic conversations. What if we could manifest all our ills on our body? This cultish “psychoplasmics” takes the psychosomatic fears too far – the opposite extreme of looking the other way alcoholism, perpetuating abuse, and festering pains. Purple visuals set apart autopsies, mutant examinations, and radical science, upping the would be laughable of those frumpy seventies snowsuits with disturbing witnessing and child helplessness. Although the source of titular critters becomes obvious during the 92 minute uncut duration, the monstrous possibilities and mental spiral remain a frightening what if with plenty of gruesome projections for a twisted little horror finale.

Crimes of the Future – This early 70 minute short film is featured on The Brood's Criterion blu-ray edition alongside another 85 minutes worth of cast and crew retrospectives, archive footage with Oliver Reed, and Cronenberg interviews. Understandably, the bizarre silence, slow comings and goings, weird stillness, and sporadic voiceover all on a 1970 nil budget is not for everyone. Fortunately, the 1997 bleak concrete and fallen industrialized affluence match the empty dystopian isolation. A “rouge” cosmetics plaque has killed all the women, and our androgynous, cleric clad in black unreliable narrator gives a detached lab report on the increasing gender changes. Red nail polish adorns men's sinistre left hand only and one with painted toes is mugged and beaten – but it's okay to consume the “chocolate” secreted by these special men so long as there are no women. Such venereal disease references, biological differences, and veiled statements on institutionalizing homosexuals for “therapy” are quite ahead of their time, and it would be intriguing to see Cronenberg do a fully scripted version today. The sorting socks and underwear scenes reflect a perverted ritual collection, but the near boring repetition detracts from a disturbing barefoot and white gloved secret pedophile meeting. Distorted sound schemes and the in limbo atmosphere create a lull before the chaos, as these repressed, feminine men escalate toward wicked violence, child trafficking, and disturbing sexual deviance for their supposedly justified and clinical cure. It's an ironic title, as it doesn't take a gender skewing apocalypse for this kind of horror to happen. Yes, this is an out there picture with poor pacing, structural flaws, and an upsetting real world horror finale – making this worth a look for sociological studies and film historians.

Devil Times Five – Teen idol Leif Garrett and his sister Dawn Lyn make for some creepy youngins in this 1974 picture also known as Peopletoys – and a dozen other titles for good measure. Eerie seventies lullaby notes ironically accent the snowy vacation spot, yuppie couples, and old fogies as perilous, icy, winding roads lead to vehicular disasters. Nuns and kids should be a sign of safety, however, real snow filming, old fashioned cars, and past technological isolation up the apprehensive mood. Although the teen voiceovers and their jive lingo are dated and the characters are initially stock stereotypes, the acting both from the adults and the children isn't bad. Slow motion and still zooms are unnecessary now, granted, but the black and white scenes showcase the shocking child violence, blunt objects, and group attacks – an extra oomph on how these miniature sociopaths get hungry and sleepy after a good bludgeoning. A belittling sex proposition of a slow adult is awkward, but cat fights, lingerie, and boobs about the bedroom scenes create a saucy upscale before our unaware adults come to realize they can't handle these escaped, killer charges – who have a wicked motivation and intellect far beyond their years. Guns go missing, knives disappear, wood needs to be chopped, and it's fun to see who or what is going to set off another crafty murder. Sure, this isn't scary by today's standards. However, the bathtub terrors and snow siege build well over the 88 minute time for some bemusing – if twisted – entertainment. 

 

Embryo – Barbara Carrera (Dallas) co-stars in this 1976 Shelley twist wildly proclaiming how the science fiction presented is closer to medical possibility than we think. Weird fetal pictures, stormy roads, and sensitive puppy moments have the audience believing the freaky, too. Dogs in horror movies – gosh darn it why?! Widower Rock Hudson (Giant) narrates these procedures upon returning to his nice, in house, rural laboratory, complete with sister-in-law Diane Ladd (Wild at Heart) and warm cup of coffee comforts to hide the sinister science. Giant old tape decks, ancient computers designs, and period hospital imagery add a dated, fantastic mood alongside an ambulance (really just a van with lights and an orange stripe!) rung up to drop off a fetus. This old fashioned easy is inadvertently bemusing at times, sure, however the 104 minutes condenses too much of the accelerated timeline and sped up growth hormones via the dry voiceover. The experiments proceed with typical education montages, questioning individuals, and rehearsed introductions – rushing over what could be intriguing developments before some fun oohs and ahhs over a chess match at the center of a party. So chess is only a man's game, really Roddy McDowell?! It's interesting to hear “God is a liberated female and she is on my side” said as a joke when such concepts feel more recent, and controversial conversations on extending the titular viability outside the womb remain intriguing. Our well intended doctor discusses social prejudices and Biblical morals but gets some inappropriate saucy on despite regretting his uncontrollable creation. Of course your super intelligent protege is going to one up the ruthlessness when her survival is in jeopardy! The public domain print's quality is poor, often too dark with low volume, and overall, this needs more polish. Fortunately, tense near discovery moments, scary barking, violent tendencies, medical complications, murderous jealousy, and even some sympathy and surprises overcome the convenient presentation.

Dames and Doppelgangers!

Dames and Doppelgangers

by Kristin Battestella

Well I think these monster fighting, dual role playing, and spooky butt kicking ladies from across the decades deserve a second look!

Another Me – Sophie Turner (Game of Thrones), Jonathan Rhys Meyers (The Tudors), Rhys Ifans (Anonymous), and Claire Fiorlani (Meet Joe Black) anchor this 2013 British/Spanish doppelganger teen thriller which is admittedly poorly structured and padded to start with violent dreams, a trying to be ominous narration, and critical family moments shown in flashback rather than real time. More Macbeth and high school play jealously cliches, emo photography, and music moments litter the first ten minutes, but Meyers makes for a dreamy drama teacher alongside lingering shadows, assorted reflections, filming through windows, and double camera trickery. Coming and going gaslighting a neighbor, quick passing glances, double takes, and ignored graffiti warnings add simmer while single white female same haircuts and frienemy understudies shape a waiting in the aside, play within a play dual layer. Stairs to and tunnels fro delay the foreboding but the claustrophobic, up close elevator panic is well done amid fine illness, adulterous stupidity, and marital breakdowns. We don't see many scary encounters – just an overreacting teenager jumping to conclusions when she could have, you know, asked her parents if there was an in utero twin problem. The pace is slow and unsure in giving the character drama room or allowing for the supposed to be spooky. A tale can be both but the round and round builds up to a bigger scare that doesn't happen, the physicality of it all is never really explained, and the outcome is fairly obvious. It might have been interesting to have seen the villain, experienced her double interactions, and witness some opposite acting chops from Turner. Fine twists do happen, but with seven minutes of credits eating into the 85 minute runtime, writer and director Isabel Coixet (My Life without Me) needed both more development time for the deserving cast and a tighter focus on the phenomena. This is nothing new to longtime scary viewers – similar plots have been done better in The Twilight Zone's “Mirror Image” and Poe's “William Wilson” – but the PG-13 spooky will be entertaining for younger audiences.

The Dark – The viewer can't see much to start this 1994 nighttime eerie thanks to the titular low budget coverage, and the first fifteen minutes of ho hum Van Damme diner action trite is unnecessary alongside poor editing and badly placed ominous crescendos interfering with the real under the cemetery monster plot convergence and ex FBI agent Brion James' (Blade Runner) conflict. Our main golly gee groundsman is also weak, but there is room for grave digging humor, daylight cemetery research, and you know, headstones being sucked into the ground. Toxic contamination and mutant animal possibilities are interesting, and having a pre-Scream Neve Campbell as an investigating Mountie isn't as bad as it sounds. Although cops tying themselves together with ropes and going down into the tunnel under the cemetery at night with only a glock and a lighter is totally a no brainer! The lack of subtitles helps in overlooking some bad dialogue, however captions would have clarified the healing DNA properties and technical science talk. It's better that we don't really see the whole pseudo prehistoric beastie, just a largely undefined head, shadowed teeth, slimy drool, and grabby reptile hands. Though laughable at times, the dangerous sinkholes and falling through the graveyard ground remain scary, monster or not. And say hey, a waitress and a lady cop talking about monsters passes the Bechdel test! A lot of the 90 minutes here is B picture run of the mill, but there are enough creepy possibilities and inadvertent humor for a late night Halloween marathon.

Dead of Winter – Stairs, wheelchairs, a photographer in a cast, and a suspicious glass of milk – director Arthur Penn (Bonnie and Clyde) accents this 1987 doppelganger thriller with Hitchcock references, blustery snowscapes, isolated mansions, and down phone lines. Red nails, long cigarettes, fedoras, holiday music, antiques, dark roads, and retro cars evoke an eighties meets forties noir mood while struggling actress Mary Steenburgen (Melvin and Howard) leaves her crowded apartment for a seemingly lucrative acting job. The audience expects some deception thanks to a psychiatrist turned producer Jan Rubes (Witness), mirrors, creepy photos, cameras, and television playbacks toying with a film within a film duality. However, the basic reveals happen early, and the unseen faces, violent car attacks, and suspect make overs build pace and twists for the identity games afoot. Television static, distorted cinematography, attic passages, mice, and hidden bodies add to the crazy switcharoos, and Roddy McDowell (Planet of the Apes) is a delightfully passive aggressive pressure cooker to match Steenburgen's superb triple duty performance. Sure, some of the Mary on Mary fight scenes may be amusing because we know the cinema tricks involved, but the twofold filming is also well done considering such difficulty. Despite some unclear blackmail and money MacGuffin schemes, wild screams, finger cuttings, and increasing peril top this one off nicely. 

 

But a Skipper

Breeders – This 1997 remake of alien monsters and mating coeds is also called Deadly Instincts and is an Isle of Man production. Who knew? Unfortunately, rather than monsters at university run amok, this is set on an American campus with Boston logos galore and embarrassing basketball scenes. Could you have chosen a tougher accent to destroy? Not to mention this is an all girl school but the throwback male hero is named Ashley just to keep the shouts and screams confusing. The opening interstellar graphics look like bad porn designs, as does the duct tape and tinfoil our alien lady is wearing, and the meh monster design is nonsensical with crystals, slime, and some kind of glow necklaces impregnating chicks. Was there no budget left for gore after buying all the Boston stickers for the police cars? The cops seem more like unnecessarily antagonistic mobsters, and the barely there plot somehow devolves into snipers in the sewers shooting themselves instead of the mini wannabe Godzilla. The only redeemable thing here would be a healthy dose of expected horror exploitations, but the catfights, lingering thigh zooms, cheap makeouts, ass shots, naked locker room jiggle, and shower conversations are so gosh darn tame it takes the fun out of everything. This is an hour too long – even at 1.5 speed nothing happens – and schlock like this is for a drinking game only.

Just A Vampire List

Just Vamps!

By Kristin Battestella

With ample undead times and places, ghoulish girls, bloodsuckers of all varieties, gothic glitz, and horror humor – what’s not to love about classic vampire films of decades yore?

Daughters of Darkness – This 1971 Elizabeth Bathory suave and swanky Euro bend starring John Karlen (Willie from Dark Shadows getting it on!) and Delphine Seyrig (The Day of the Jackal) gets right to the saucy, up close, wet, near soft core action and full frontal nudity. Aristocratic family secrets, deceptions, kinky newlyweds, and suggested lesbian jealousies add to the traditional vampire staples – from unexplained perpetual youth, lookalike ancestors, and a reflection-less countess with a beautiful, mysteriously bound ward to straight razor cuts on the neck, fear of running water, and no trace of blood at the scene of the crime. Toss in meddling, aged bellhops, astute old cops, the local morbid curiosity, and a bevy of babes – namely Danielle Oulette and Andrea Rau – and the murders, violence, and homoerotic twists are complete. The cars are seriously cool, too, as are the symbolic fashions, flashy frocks, and colorful velvet décor. The perfect Ostend Hotel and other European locales more than make up for the tacky but sassy and fitting music, and the nice mix of accents on the English dialogue adds more foreign flair to kinky descriptions of medieval torture – nipple pinchers, hot tongs, and all that. Red lighting and blue tinted photography add to the creepy jump scares and frights, but this isn’t horror per se, rather something more voluptuous in mood. It’s a little dark and tough to see at the end and confuses some of its own vampire lore but stick with the uncut 100-minute DVD version with the added features and commentaries if you’re in the mood for then-updated, now period gothic vamps with a feminine twist. Remember, the key to beauty is “A very strict diet and lots of sleep.”

Fright Night – Writer and Director Tom Holland (Child’s Play) crafts a fun, self-referential midnight movie in this 1985 mix of traditional vampire lore and suburban charm. Film within a film winks and other horror homages both apparent and wonderfully subtle anchor the still bemusing eighties music and fashion styles along with assorted vampire effects, transformations, beasties, and bloodies. Although there is a little too much slow, must stop, and awe at our effects camera shots dragging some of the action pace, the combination of shoulder pad sassy and creature feature bloodsuckers works thanks to suave Chris Sarandon (Dog Day Afternoon), Cushing-esque Roddy McDowell (Planet of the Apes), and cute next door couple William Ragsdale (Herman’s Head) and Amanda Bearse (Married…with Children). A great, creepy house completes the old meets eighties setting, and there are some boobs and sexy innuendos to match. While some may dislike the humorous, dated designs – it’s amazing how becoming a vampire lengthens your hair and increases your bust! – this near perfect blend of modern wit and vampire suspense is tough to beat. A Must see.  

The Norliss Tapes – Dark Shadows show runner Dan Curtis directed this moody and atmospheric 1973 TV movie, and the now old cassette tapes, typewriters, telephones, and dated technology add further fears and retro style to the sweet trolley cars and isolated California estates. Perhaps Roy Thinnes’ (The Invaders, Falcon Crest) brooding speculations and narrations would be unnecessary today – we’d just stick in a “one week earlier” title card – but the titular amateur detective is likeable and adds personality. Likewise, looking good Angie Dickinson (Rio Bravo, Police Woman) provides an honest and fearful portrayal amid the weird sculptures, dreary rain, and barking dogs. Eerie, fast, and furious action overcomes the slow, mysterious start thanks to resurrected husbands, Egyptian relics, and sudden disappearances – even if undead vampire make up is some freaky gray muck and dark car photography is somewhat tough to see. The flashback investigation and framing tape device take some liberties as well, with the point of view moving from victim to cops and place to place. Though the audience is quickly invested once the creepy corpses and blood drained bodies confound the police, this format adds an interesting level of unreliability. Did these things actually happen as the viewer is being told or is there a fiction spin to the tale? Indeed, I would have liked to see this continue, perhaps as several telefilms investigating various real world paranormal and not as a full series as intended. It’s only 82 minutes, has no subtitles, and there’s precious little information available online, but this is an intense, well acted, scary little show.

The Velvet Vampire – This 1971 western-esque tale produced by Roger Corman (The Pit and the Pendulum) and directed by Stephanie Rothman (The Student Nurses) gets right to the pretty gals in colorful, boobalicious frocks being attacked by vampires – or so the audience is led to believe. There’s humor amid the cast as well, from the jerky Michael Blodgett ( Beyond the Valley of the Dolls) and his airheaded wife Sherry Miles (Making It) to cranky desert folk and the mysteriously pale and bloodstone-wearing Celeste Yarnall (Beast of Blood) who befriends our insipid couple. Although the desolate locales are perfect in creepy and isolated, the strung out tone or vapid, stoned acting hampers the sexual tension triumvirate already afoot. I could do without the naked slow motion running, however, and while this is blessedly not an unnecessarily gory bloodbath; some viewers will dislike the artsy before bloody approach. Fortunately, the undead spins and equal opportunity skin, sex, snakes, boobs, bubble baths, and dune buggies keep the obvious dialogue decidedly tongue in cheek. After all, a mere hat in the desert does wonders for our titular gal! The sensuality, mirrors, and vampire voyeurism are also well done – even if it takes both too long for the intrepid couple to put the macabre clues together and too little for the relationship dynamics to switch around so fast in this short 80 minutes. The mix of classical music, blues, and almost whimsical driving montages set off the fine desert filmmaking, red symbolism, scary abandoned mines, and wispy dreamscapes, but the picture seems a little flat and dark even amid the arid daylight scenery. Of course, that might just be the Cheesy Flicks DVD release, and my Netflix rental, skipped, too. Sure, this one is a little rough around the edges, but this is also a sophisticated, modern, and unique twist on the sexy seventies vampire vibe.

Planet of the Apes (1968)

Classic Planet of the Apes Still Stunning

By Kristin Battestella

I’ve been begging my husband to watch the original 1968 Planet of the Apes for weeks. It’s been on cable a lot recently, and I tune in every time. No matter how many times you see it, Planet of the Apes still offers unforgettable moments and speculative insights on the human condition.

 

American astronaut George Taylor (Charlton Heston) is readying his ship for its return to earth. While the crew is in suspended animation, the ship crashes on an unknown planet. Taylor, Landon (Robert Gunner) and Dodge (Jeff Burton) survive, but their female crewmate Stewart (Dianne Stanley) died when her pod was damaged. According to the ship’s clocks, several thousand years have passed. The men debate where and when they are as they travel through the rough and dangerous desert. When they finally find trees, water, and a mute tribe of humans, things seem on the up-until Taylor is captured by a group of talking and gun toting apes who refuse to believe his outlandish story.

I finally convinced my husband to watch after our holiday Twilight Zone marathon. ‘Rod Serling wrote Planet of the Apes’, I casually said. Although his script was taken part and parcel with Oscar Winner Michael Wilson’s (A Place in the Sun, Bridge on the River Kwai, Lawrence of Arabia) rewrite, many of Serling’s touches can be found in the film and both men receive credit. From Taylor’s iconic ‘Get your stinkin’ paws off me you damn, dirty ape!’ to Apes’ still disturbing ending, the movie carries a lot of The Twilight Zone’s topsy turvy feeling. Taylor traveled to the stars in an effort to find something better than man, and instead he finds a world where man is at the bottom of the food chain. So many memorable, yet humorous and tragic observations accent Planet of the Apes with their species reversals: Taylor’s black crewmate Dodge ends up in museum; people are lobotomized and gelded at will in hopes that ‘man can be domesticated’; a gorilla’s eulogy proclaims, ‘I never met an ape I didn’t like’; and although we may laugh at ‘human see, human do’, we really can often be that basic and stupid. 

 

I remember seeing this original as a kid. I was surprised my parents were encouraging me to watch a film with seemingly so much nudity and skimpy clothing. That’s all harmless bits of course, but beyond the sixties styles and sets, the story and situation from director Franklin Schaffner (Patton) blew my mind. Although it advanced the science fiction genre onscreen and off, Planet of the Apes is really about the arrogance of man. I remember groaning over the opening desert segment, feeling the hopelessness and isolation of these stranded astronauts. In spite of its title, the shock of seeing a gorilla riding a horse and carrying a gun instantly tells you the kind of world in which the Planet of the Apes takes place.

 

We can joke that a movie with plenty of nudity and guns is right up Charlton Heston’s alley, but his performance here is just as worthy as The Ten Commandments or Ben Hur. He’s older, a bit more rough around the edges, but we believe Heston’s Taylor can be the rugged leader and cocky explorer exploring for the wrong reasons. When we meet him, Taylor is actually quite the jerk. When encountering primitive humans, he comments that if this was the cream of the crop, he could be running the planet in six months. Once he is stripped of all human dignity and helpless in this disturbing world, we are instantly on Taylor’s side. Heston gains our sympathy while keeping Taylor strong as the lone antagonist with no hope of proving himself.

 

Veterans Kim Hunter and Roddy McDowell are simply darling as the chimpanzee scientists Zira and Cornelius. They are a cute couple, and even though they have each other, Zira and Cornelius soon come to odds with their own society over Taylor. Maurice Evans is equally delicious as orangutan administrator Dr. Zaius. You know from the start he knows more than he’s saying. As much as we are disturbed about seeing man put in his place, these apes also don’t like an outsider telling them what’s wrong with how they do things. Taylor’s answer to Zaius that ‘some apes, it seems, are more equal than others’ sets the inevitable stand off that comes for these characters.  

Although the menus and special features are nothing special, the blu ray presentation of Planet of the Apes is a sight and a half to behold. For years I’ve seen the film cut up on television or wearing thin on grainy VHS tapes. The haunting Oscar nominated score by Jerry Goldsmith sends chills up your spine; The opening desert scenes and Lake Powell locations and excellent ape makeup not only hold up against digital technology, but look downright supreme. These visuals alone won my husband over, and he gave Planet of the Apes four stars.

In addition to the 2001 remake starring Mark Walhberg, Planet of the Apes spawned four sequels and a brief television series. While the remake is perhaps truer to Pierre Boulle’s 1963 French source novel and has better sf effects, its ape faces are sub par in comparison with John Chambers’ Oscar winning makeup. The Ape sequels bring the series full circle, but their quality diminishes as they go forth. The complete collection is however available in several DVD and blu ray sets.

Fans of science fiction and dystopian films cannot call themselves true fans unless they view the original Planet of the Apes. Apes collectors should definitely upgrade to blu ray the moment you can afford to do so. PG and tame by today’s standards, elder folks can introduce tweens to Planet of the Apes. Despite some old school looks, the story, social commentaries, and beautiful restoration to blu ray ensures Planet of the Apes will be with us for years to come.