Tales from the Crypt Season 7

Tales from the Crypt Season Seven an Unexpected Denouement 

by Kristin Battestella

In Spring 1996, the thirteen episode final season of Tales from the Crypt moved to the UK, and despite several fine stories, the sardonic horror suffers thanks to the identity crisis in this awkward end. Our Crypt Keeper is eating flesh and chips and doing a little fright seeing complete with Big Ben, London Bridge, and double decker buses in “Fatal Caper” before director Bob Hoskins (Who Framed Roger Rabbit?) sends his dying client to lawyer Natasha Richardson (The Handmaid's Tale) to handle his will. Three sons have been disowned, but without them there is no legacy or title. Two are summoned to accept the terms of their inheritance – find the eldest brother unseen for fifteen years. However, if one brother remains, he gets everything. Arguments, heart attacks, saucy, and killer suggestions lead to rigged seances, apparitions, and ditching folks in the ancestral tomb as each tries to out scare the other. With the jolly good demented mood, it's easy to presume this is a one off on location special for the premiere – except the Keeper is staying to collect souvenears and worries about getting in trouble with the Die-R-S again in “Last Respects.” Freddie Francis (Dracula Has Risen from the Grave) directs Emma Samms (Dynasty) as a monkey's paw changes the fortune of three sisters and their floundering curio shop in this fun Charmed meets Friday the 13th: The Series combination. Debates about which sister will be a spinster or the most hated have them vying over the talisman, and each thinks they can outsmart it's curse. However, the windfall is not what it seems thanks to injuries and insurance plans, and the bemusingly dry mortician isn't surprised by the ghoulish bodies, turnabouts, and revenge. To start the season, Tales from the Crypt relies on classic horror twists sourced from some of the earliest issues of Tales for the Crypt, Vault of Horror, Shock SuspenStories, and Haunt of Fear. In “A Slight Case of Murder” our astrologer Crypt Keeper warns us to stay away from romantic enstranglements this month, but mystery writer Francesca Annis (Dune) has an estranged husband and a pesky old lady neighbor – a wannabe author after more than just a cup of sugar. English to the face charm contrasts the under the breath zingers, and divorce settlements provide gunpoint threats, fireplace pokers, and burying bodies in the basement. Our cupcake and biscuit forget about the car keys left on the dead as matters of murder remain so polite. After all, the Crypt Keeper says we have to just grim and bear it.

Director Russell Mulcahy's (Highlander) inside heist goes wrong for “Horror in the Night,” leading to creepy hotel hideouts, Art Deco askew, and femme fatale Elizabeth McGovern (Downton Abbey). Drab patinas and rattling trains accent the distorted sense of reality alongside repeated events, delirium, and scotch. The bloody linens and leaky pipes spewing blood escalate with disturbing sex scenes and gruesome guts. Suspect door numbers, never ending hallways, past secrets, and fatal mistakes combine in the superbly bizarre Tales from the Crypt justice we expect yet this might have made a great horror movie unto itself. Commander CK, meanwhile, plays astronaut with his skeleton crew. They're going where no ghoul has gone before because they've got the rot stuff. Crows, fog, and spooky trees open “Report from the Grave” as scientist James Frain (The Tudors) enters a crypt to capture the mental powers of a surprisingly well preserved murderous hypnotist. His machinery may unite the physical and metaphysical, but a good zap and mechanical shock results in asylum restraints, visions of the deceased, and more medical experiments. Lightning, screams, and equations provide a Frankenstein motif for the nineties as motherboards and monitors update the mad science. Saucy and sadness can't stop the pain of death thanks to grave robbing, ghosts, and bloody bathtubs in another Tales from the Crypt gem. Of course, The Keeper does his best Gorelone Godfather send up before Daniel Craig (Skyfall) impresses the advertising agency with his swagger in “Smoke Wrings.” He calls out the old fashioned campaigns, making the other agents look bad, but it's all a con with an underground accomplice and a device that manifests the power of suggestion. Subliminal signals over candies and colas begat knives, revenge, and double crosses like it's Melrose Place on acid but it's a Victorian minister in the saucy for “About Face.” Imelda Staunton's (Maleficent) husband wants another young secretary for his sinful rhetoric, but unbeknownst twin daughters played by Anna Friel (Timeline) come knocking on his door. They'll say their adopted to maintain his righteous image, but one daughter is unable to forgive his wolf in sheep's clothing as shadows of the cross imagery accent the scripture and damnation. Perhaps it's obvious, but slit throats, strangulation, and impalements provide enough twisted drama. Unfortunately, we need diefocals because we have terrible eyesight from watching too much Tales from the Crypt according to Dr. Keeper in “Confession.” Swanky fedoras and cigarettes belie headless victims, and the police fear headlines of headless girls in the topless club. Profiler Ciaran Hinds (The Phantom of the Opera) interrogates suspected screenwriter Eddie Izzard (Shadow of the Vampire), for his movie about a serial killer is a box office hit. However, the police don't believe his expertise in killing is just from research thanks to freak show heads in jars, nasty history, and their insistence that no one is ever really innocent. Flashbulb cameras, two way mirrors, and dank rooms add to the congested tension, bowling ball bags, and psychological one on one, combining the seriousness of a noir thriller with self-referential winks. Viewers will see the twist coming, but that cheeky matches the optometrist bookends, and this would have been a fitting if subdued series finale.

After starting well, Year Seven falters with several mixed bag entries before going downhill with the back and forth betrayals in “Escape.” German prisoners in 1945 England object to making coffins and want all the comforts to wait out the war – yet they also plot for useful information about tunnels below their castle jail. Sirens and bloody clues add to the period atmosphere, but none of the motivations are likable, and the supersized Season Three World War I episode “Yellow” remains superior. A convenience store robbery goes wrong for Ewan McGregor (Shallow Grave) in “Cold War” leading to gunshots, arguing couples, colorful clubs, and awkward dance offs to Tom Jones with Colin Salmon (Tomorrow Never Dies). It's a thoroughly British tale, almost alienating to an audience at the time tuning in for American sleaze. Off the mark racism commentaries and love triangles are terribly dated, and it takes to too long to get to the apparent but fun undead twist. While the Crypt Keeper's playing Wimbletomb, a pawnbroker takes in a pregnant woman only to become jealous of the interfering baby in “The Kidnapper.” The lame narration and warped abduction plan is too disturbing – real world horror caused by a pathetic dude wanting sex to make it all better. It's not entertaining, and even the terribly fake babies during action sequences can't make this better. Eventually, viewers won't get Slay Mart cashier Keeper and his boo light special joke, and “Ear Today...Gone Tomorrow” provides safe cracking failures, sophisticated bookies, and a saucy mobster's wife who says they can help each other. Hearing loss has ruined his trade, but she knows a doctor using radical innovations and multi-species benefits. Visuals amplify his newly owl heightened hearing but the animal twists are laughable. There's more nudity in this half hour than the rest of the season and maybe it's not a terrible story, but we've seen similar crime episodes on Tales from the Crypt already. The animated “The Third Pig” finale is also an odd gimmick that both makes one wonder why Tales from the Crypt didn't do adult animation more often when it had the chance and why they are unnecessarily doing it now. This Three Little Pigs spin has John Kassir as the Crypt Keeper narrating Drinky, Smokey, zombie pigs, and mad science – going on and on with humor that requires you to be likewise drunk or high and it's baffling how anybody thought this was a good way to end the series.

Tales from the Crypt's production move to Britain immediately shows with outdoor filming, grand estates, Tudor windows, cluttered antiques, and tweed. Fine woodwork, ornate chairs, carriages, candles, and oil lamps set off great looking period episodes alongside bangers and mash, plenty of accents, and across the pond slang. Swelling music and winking, whimsical notes add suspense or humor while chanting, heartbeats, and retching sounds match the blood, poisons, and tombs. Typewriters, big old televisions, cassettes, and dated fashions continue the nostalgia while overhead camera angles, distorted views, and sped up visuals keep the sardonic humor. Rather than eighties garish color, mid century crime, or noir settings, Tales from the Crypt embraces the British horror tone – putting aside the hip and edgy that was getting a little passe by the mid nineties. Every episode has a spooky, windswept atmosphere with cemeteries, cobwebs, and shrewd lighting accenting the pale, sickly pallor, zombie strung out, chopped off heads, and veiny skin. Despite boobs, splatter, and the gory deceased, this season is relatively tame compared to what viewers may expect from Tales from the Crypt. If a pushing the envelope, mature macabre, cheeky big bang finale is what you're looking for, this serviceable but not the best the series has to offer exit will be a disappointment. Compared to Tales from the Crypt's finest, this more serious season definitely feels like a different anthology. For fans of British programs there are plenty of familiar faces, but at the time it was probably tough to accept such English bits and bobs on late night HBO. If you can overlook the off brand demented fun then Season Seven has enough gothic morose for a quick and easy marathon.

Tales from the Crypt Season 6

Tales from the Crypt Peaks with Season 6 

by Kristin Battestella

The fifteen episode 1994-95 Sixth and penultimate season of Tales from the Crypt peaks with another year of saucy satire and bizarre plots inspired by Vault of Horror, Tales from the Crypt, ShockSuspense Stories, Crime Suspense Stories, and Haunt of Fear.

CKNN news anchor The Crypt Keeper reports on a mummy taking the rap after years in denial before opening the season with the comeuppance of “Let the Punishment Fit the Crime.” Big city lawyer Catherine O'Hara (Beetlejuice) is stuck with bow tie wearing public defender Peter MacNichol (Dracula: Dead and Loving It) for a simple vehicle violation – her “Sue Me” license plate – in a very strict backwater burg proud of its local executions and town square hangings. Unfortunately, contesting her original penance of ten lashes leads to stocks and gory dungeon apparitions of her previous lawsuit victims. Director Russell Mulcahy's (Highlander) askew camera angles and distorted courtroom proportions visually accent the injustice, appeals, increasingly ominous judges, and electric chair twists before the neon Halloween decadence of “Only Skin Deep.” Unwelcome guests and abusive threats dampen the rad party, but “Molly” is ready to take the sexy bizarre home to her barren warehouse loft – so long as they keep on their masks. No last names or details will interfere with the lingerie and saucy action on the red couch. Her body bag costume mirrors our synthetic shells with a person inside, and tonight some rough in the flesh anonymity will set all the pain free thanks to that no questions asked policy, blood, bugs, and a power tool or two. The Crypt Keeper is doing a makeover with red slaytex paint in “Whirlpool,” but angry editor Richard Lewis (Robin Hood: Men in Tights) isn't happy with the latest nudity, violence, and seedy turnabouts as the team argues over the black and white storyboards in the Tales from the Crypt writers room. Self referential winks to other episodes – he's a werewolf, she's a vampire but they don't know it – accent the old fashioned mood, vintage phones, pencils, alcohol, guns, and revenge. Blood on the floor contrasts the classy looking hats and pumps before police stand offs and nightmares lead to repeated rejections, walleye visuals, and the same thirteenth floor disasters. The mundane cubicle life and stolen accounting programs likewise don't bode well for Tate Donovan (Memphis Belle) in “Operation Friendship.” However, his zany imaginary friend reappears to cheer him up – until the pretty girl next door interferes. Between the lines of its horror and bizarre, Tales from the Crypt often provides satire and subtext, and here there's intimate, even homoerotic visuals as our invisible, jealous friend preys on his BFF with scary internal imagery and symbolic self confrontations.

Donned in neon flippers, goggles, and wielding a harpoon, the Crypt Keeper gets in trouble with the Die-R-S in “Revenge is the Nuts.” Cruel Anthony Zerbe (The Omega Man) torments Bibi Besch (The Wrath of Khan) and Isaac Hayes (South Park) with marbles on the floor and bricked up bathrooms at his cold, shabby, and dark institution for the blind before threatening new patient Teri Polo (Meet the Parents) to do things his way. Again the layered script provides open up and say ah or hole in one mini golf innuendo to match the deplorable, abusive conditions with sex for rations and heat. Injuries, escape attempts, and the missing senses escalate amid desperate fears and a scary, hungry dog. The taste of his own medicine turnabouts provide a fitting Tales from the Crypt revenge, and William Sadler as his Bill and Ted Grim Reaper proposes a contest with his old friend the Crypt Keeper in “The Assassin” – because this tomb isn't big enough for the both of them. Shelley Hack's (Charlie's Angels) suburban sunny side up perfection is also disrupted by tasers, Corey Feldman (The Lost Boys), and a team of CIA agents pursuing her AWOL husband. Despite the smacks, treadmill mishaps, and bemusing splatter preparations, everyone's so polite about the dinner parties, tasty roast, and not getting a bloody nose on the sofa. In “Staired in Horror,” escapee D.B.Sweeney (Fire in the Sky) hides from sheriff R. Lee Ermey (Full Metal Jacket) in a creepy bayou manor with confederate swords, an old lady downstairs, and an old fashioned babe upstairs. Unfortunately, thanks to some past torrid and family curses, he can't go up and she can't come down the steps. Meeting on the stairs halfway for some necking and a scary police dog named Gator add to the over the top tone, and the Southern Gothic mood leads to decrepit consequences. Our beatnik Keeper, on the other hand, he's a real ghoul dude. Doctor Austin Pendleton (Homicide:Life on the Street) wants to steal a corpse with the help of security guard Hank Azaria (The Birdcage) in “Doctor of Horror,” for he works from home because he's not allowed in hospitals anymore. Gross gurneys, scalpels, and ugly dead feet lead to storing bodies in the wine cellar cum laboratory while he looks for evidence of the soul in a vanishing gland behind the spine. It's all totally preposterous, but the quirky ensemble keep the moral questions coming amid the gory reversals and forty year old freezer on the fritz.

When barber Crypt Keeper isn't cutting off ears, he's on the beach with the babes and his ice ghouler for “Comes the Dawn.” There are dive bars, blizzards, and not much else in Alaska, but big game hunter Michael Ironside (V) is there to break the poaching rules amid military histories, masculine versus feminine tension, and an eerie, abandoned weather bunker. Something is hibernating, and icky sounds, bloody sacs, and sticky substances add to the snowed in snarling, low body temperatures, and blood thirsty twists. In “99& 44/100% Pure Horror,” gruesome artwork, kinky artistry, and steamy showers happen before irritable husband Bruce Davison (X-Men) comes home. He prattles on about antacids and soap chemicals, but his board of directors wants a new campaign for their next success – one that's not designed by his wife. Missed Talk show opportunities lead to more understandable artist frustrations, for nobody wants her gory designs. If she can't sell her work, then she's going to make bank with a divorce. Soon the white dress is bloody, bodies are rolled up in the carpet, and soap on a rope begets processing plants and acid vats to dispose of the evidence and churn out a new batch of soap with some itchy, fleshy consequences. The Crypt Keeper's tossing skulls at the annual die-cathalon just for the kill of victory, and Fearrest Gump shockolate spoofs, brief Alfred Hitchcock cameos, black and white visuals, and Bogart – yes Humphrey Bogart (The Maltese Falcon) – set off “You, Murderer.” Tales from the Crypt executive producer Robert Zemeckis directs Isabella Rossellini (Death Becomes Her), John Lithgow (Dexter), and Sherilyn Finn (Twin Peaks) as phone calls from the dead, red accents, mirrors, reflections, and point of view camerawork sell the cleverness. Certainly, some of the primitive computer graphics are inferior looking today. The back and forth timeline is confusing, and the flashback within flashback narration is clearly not Bogie. However, the unique visuals aren't just reserved for the late star, but also femme fatales, killer twists, gunshots, and car accidents that bring the tale full circle. Sure this is mostly a technological experiment imitating a specific film making atmosphere, but the delightful ensemble and supernatural twists make it easy to appreciate this recreation of Old Hollywood style. Alibis, set ups, violent mishaps – if Tales from the Crypt was going to do anymore for love or money crime stories, this was the way to do it. Once again we're dealing with the moral ambiguity and graphic viability of re-using dead actor's likeness, and although this episode is both polarizing in its then genius as well as jumping the shark even for Tales from the Crypt's pushing the envelope standards, this half hour is certainly unforgettable.

Of course, there are several run of the mill episodes by mid season, and today Tales from the Crypt would probably be even shorter with delayed Fall A and Spring B scheduling. Then again, the campaigning Crypt Keeper says the Fright House needs more stiff competition and despite the skeletons in his closet he's the best candidate for new bleedership in the otherwise dull “The Bribe.” The racial and religious undertones are here for Terry O'Quinn (666 Park Avenue) and Benicio del Toro (Traffic) with devilish strippers and Hispanic club owners versus seemingly righteous white lawmen, however the consequences are too predictable. Likewise “The Pit” goes overboard with the hyperbolic sports commentators, low quality video replays, trash talk, and thirty million dollar no holds barred fight to the death – all televised on HBO, naturally. The ruthless trophy wives live vicariously through the short leash on their macho men until they get the chance to be down and dirty in the cage. The action isn't all bad, but the so specifically steeped in the nineties cool falls flat now. Indeed, the best part here is the Keeper decorating his Cryptmas tree. The lips and stockings opening “In the Groove” are unfortunately just radio foreplay that I swear copies that old Cinemax show Hot Line. Ratings are down and sponsors are leaving, but sexy stunts on the graveyard shift light up the phone lines – especially when the fantasies turn to hatred, rage, and murder. The hellish sibling rivalry seems like it's going one place and then it's disappointing when the story ends up somewhere else. Brief deathbed flashbacks and family antagonism are reflected in the rainy windshield for “Surprise Party” as a son inherits a deserted farm decades after a fire. The visuals are both an obviously cheap way to provide backstory without an entire hospital bed scenario yet effective in providing twistedness. Unfortunately, the property's already occupied with hip babes, booze, jealousy, and midnight specials – and the supposedly wild parties and fiery vengeance are totally lame. Thankfully, the atmospheric and spooky Tales from the Crypt opening is always Halloween décor inspiring, and noir lighting, tunnel dollies, dizzying pans, and up close zooms accent the scares even when some of the special effects look primitive. Missing nose my foot! More ambiance, shadow schemes, neon spotlights, green haze, and red glows match the oozing monster designs, gross prosthetics, and screeching sounds as the camera takes its askew angles and extreme distortions cues from each story. Jazzy music also accentuates the tension as needed, not to mention the steamy lingerie and bare skin that only Tales from the Crypt could get away with then. Bright early McMansion styles and eighties white leather previously seen have now become nineties black leather luxury contrasting the drab poor interiors. Certainly some episodes have better production values than others – at times sets are bare or generic rather than uniquely specific. One can tell the budget was probably reduced – or saved for all that crafty then newfangled CGI in the finale. Fortunately, a whiff of nostalgia peppers Tales from the Crypt thanks to big microwaves, CDs, headsets, brick mobile phones, and giant computers with DOS and “the 'net.” Although, I'm not sure about the strappy baby doll dresses with tiny white tees underneath, berets, and tiny backpacks nor those high waist jeans and flavor of the nineties Cavarricci pants, I am still wearing crushed velvet empire dresses. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This season of Tales from the Crypt is more mature dark comedy than outright scary, but many of the entries here provide memorable macabre thanks to the stars and twists. Rather than too many look alike crime and murder or for love or money stories like previous seasons, Tales from the Crypt Season Six peaks with sophisticated satire and choice horror accents perfect for a late night binge.

Tales from the Crypt Season 5

Star Studded Tales from the Crypt Season 5 Remains Memorable

by Kristin Battestella

The Fall 1993 Fifth Season of Tales from the Crypt is a star studded season full of familiar faces and frights to remember beginning with Tim Curry (Clue) and Ed Begley, Jr. (She-Devil) in “Death of Some Salesmen.” Our unscrupulous cemetery plot salesman snoops in the obituaries, preying on old widows like Yvonne De Carlo (The Munsters) with a rural, door to door con as the humorous winks, overalls, and southern gentility contrast the risque sex, bloody secrets, and murderous traps. Headless revelations offer a quirky, if disturbing grain of truth on swindling salesmen getting what they deserve, but the revolting comeuppance had both me and my husband gagging and laughing at the same time. Our Crypt Keeper host is taking calls on KDOA Radio as Hector Elizondo (Chicago Hope) suspects young wife Patsy Kensit (Full Eclipse) of having an affair in director Kyle Maclachlan's (Twin Peaks) “As Ye Sow.” Unfortunately, Adam West's (Batman) upscale surveillance firm says she does nothing but go to church everyday – to a controversial priest tossed from his last parish. Debates on the church as living organ, throbbing with his flock in his arms provide juicy winks as the power of suggestion has our paranoid husband fearing betrayal and jumping to the wrong conclusion. An unreliable point of view imaging what's going on in the confessional makes for a controversial mix of sacrilegious horror, but it's cheaper to hire hit men than get a divorce. War photographers Steve Buscemi (Boardwalk Empire) and Roger Daltry (Highlander: The Series) likewise fight over Lysette Anthony (Dracula: Dead and Loving It) in “Forever Ambergris” while The Keeper himself shoots for Vicghoulia's Secret. Anything can happen during this Central America assignment, and villages contaminated with germ warfare create an elevated dramatic mood amid macho guns versus the camera, mercenaries, and screaming convulsions. Bubbling flesh, oozing blood, squishing eyeballs – what's a little imbued chemicals once you steal the award winning photographs and get the girl?

In “Two for the Show” bored, adulterous wife Traci Lords (Cry Baby) wants more passion. However, her husband is worried her leaving will make him look bad at the corporate banquet, leading to strangulation, scissors, knife play, and stuffing the body into a bedside chest even if it just won't fit. Suspicious cops, dismemberment, and a heavy suitcase provide suspense with shades of Hitchcock in the overhead parallels and two shots of men on a train hypothetically debating about killing their wives. The crime has already been committed, yet there's a classy, potboiler tense to the garbage disposal twists. Of course, the audience is on trial with the barrister wig wearing 'Honorable Judge Crypt Keeper' presiding over “House of Horror” as Wil Wheaton (Star Trek: The Next Generation), Kevin Dillon (Entourage), Brian Krause (Sleepwalkers), and more eighties teens are all grown up and trying to join the fraternity with paddles, humiliation, kneeling, and scrubbing dog poo with a toothbrush. The sister house is here for their final initiation at a haunted fraternity house with a murderous past, and one by one the plebs must make it to the attic with all the tricks, gags, screams, chainsaws, and turnabouts along the way. Assistant Maryam d'Abo (Bond Girls Are Forever) is unhappy when magician Billy Zane's (Dead Calm) show isn't a success in “Well Cooked Hams.” While The Crypt Keeper is taking French lessons for his trip to 'gay Scaree,' the turn of the century magic scene is cutthroat and our magician will kill to get ahead when not stealing the Box of Death trick from fellow hunchback illusionist Martin Sheen (The West Wing). Inserted knives, sulfuric acid, burning ropes, and handcuffs add to the magic rivalry and period mood as the disguises, reflections, and smoke and mirrors leave the audience screaming. The difference, you see, is in not when the crowd is aware of the ruse but when they actually believe it. Slick Anthony Michael Hall (The Breakfast Club) tries to outwit the mummy legends and sacrificed princesses in “Creep Course,” however his attempt to steal the mid-term answers leads to statues, tombs, torches, and a sarcophagus from the professor's private collection – courtesy of some grave robbing family history. The jocks versus academia double crossing twists provide gross embalming techniques, through the nose icky, and projectile vomiting for a fun atmosphere with good old fashioned wrappings in contemporary mummy spins.

Big CK is a flight attendant on Tales from the Crypt Scarelines for “Came the Dawn,” but the bimbo in the bathroom and the bloody ax murderer have other dismembering ideas. Good thing suave in his Porsche Perry King (Melrose Place) picks up broke down Brooke Shields (The Blue Lagoon), taking her to his cabin on a stormy night – after stopping for oysters and champagne, of course. Medieval décor with executioner artifacts and weapons accent opera, fireside candlelit dinners, and jewels. Unfortunately, tales of adultery begat black stockings bondage interrupted by an ex-girlfriend shouting at the door. Wise Tales from the Crypt viewers will figure out what's happening easily thanks to taxidermy and ladies clothing in the closet. However, that obvious doesn't make the revealing attacks any less chilling. Con artist couple Lou Diamond Phillips (La Bamba) and Priscilla Presley (Dallas) dig up their buried alive cohort and the money with him in “Oil's Well That Ends Well” – a fellow con who happens to be the man behind the Crypt Keeper John Kassir in his only onscreen Tales from the Crypt appearance. She wants another con and shows her authority at the rowdy bar, taking on the nasty boys with a great speech on how strong women are called bitches, screwed, fucked, and screwed again. Oil claims help swindle the local rednecks into drilling under the graveyard, with explosions and self-referential quips setting off the who's screwing whom. More bemusing dialogue mixed with suspense and surreal shootouts elevate “Till Death Do We Part.” Although this is another crime drama and love triangle more about violence than horror, gigolo John Stamos (Full House) and mob dame Eileen Brennan (Clue) provide diamonds, dice, jazz clubs, and saucy betrayals – leading to limos in the woods with guns, bodies in the trunk, rubber aprons, and axes. Crook Robert Picardo (Star Trek: Voyager) is just so polite in making the vomiting, fainting lady stand up and watch the quartering! Our KRPT sportscaster Crypt Keeper, meanwhile, is on the radio with the World Scaries featuring the Fright Sox versus the Boo Jays. Which team will keep their winning shriek alive?

This is a short, mostly solid season, however, there are a few less than stellar episodes of Tales from the Crypt such as Ernie Hudson's (Ghostbusters) “Food for Thought” with its carnival warped, saucy dessert metaphors, and perverted quid pro quo abuses between a mind reading couple. The racial implications among the freaks, conjoined twin ladies naked in the shower, illicit fire eater romance, and a jealous girl gorilla make for fiery consequences, yet the revenge is thin, with most of the circus designs just for show. The fourth and ghoul Crypt Keeper quarterback also can't save the uneven crimes in director Russell Mulcahy's (Highlander 2) “People Who Live in Brass Hearses.” Violent ex-con Bill Paxton (Aliens) and simpleton younger brother Brad Dourif (Child's Play) are out for revenge, harassing the suspicious ice cream truck driver before bloody hooks, murderous mishaps, gory gunshots, and safe cracking gone awry. There are some twists, but the sardonic humor and quirky characters can't carry the heist amid unenjoyable outbursts and obnoxiousness. Ghoulish bodies, morgue drawers, and colorful goo open “Half-Way Horrible” and the Keeper is shrinking heads in the dryer at his scare salon while a detective asks Clancy Brown (Highlander) about his chemical company's proprietary ingredients. These rare herbs were of course stolen in the jungle amid tribal drums, native secrets, and zombie rituals. Voodoo dolls come back to haunt the corrupt chemist, and once again it's just rich white guys learning the err of their appropriating ways – told from the sympathetic point of view of said rich white guys. It's not surprising and doesn't make us feel bad when he gets his due. As The Keeper says, 'he needed to learn rot from wrong a little fester.'

Fortunately, old fashioned kitchens, cameo jewelry, and country strings accent the rural settings of these tales again based on Haunt of Fear, Tales from the Crypt, Vault of Horror, Shock SuspenStories, and Crime SuspenStories. Cha-ching money sounds, stormy nights, and other audio bells and whistles set off the vintage video, VCRs, old televisions, giant tape reels, transistor radios, huge ass car phones, and hi tech nineties corporate contrasting the old school noir, file folders, and black and white photographs. Warped camera angles, dark lighting, shadow schemes, and colorful touches keep the on location production values top notch amid effective jungle horrors, gross make up, blood, and disturbing gore. Downtrodden circus tents and lanterns provide golden Victorian patinas while haunted houses and cobwebs create congested scares. Train tensions begat outdoor ominous and penultimate zombie gross, and though front loaded with juicy nudity, later in the season the steamy lingerie isn't as important as the swanky bling, period costumes, or Egyptian motifs. Tales from the Crypt's horror prosthetics really allow the cast per episode to sink their teeth into the role or multiple roles whether playing to or against type. Tales from the Crypt Season Five starts strong with some of the series' finest humor and horror with sardonic sexiness and star studded scares. This shorter year shines with relatively few poor outings – a precursor to today's brief, quickly digestible fall horror and anthology seasons. Tales from the Crypt Season Five is a creepy, fast marathon for Halloween or anytime of year.

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. 

The Lizzie Borden Chronicles

The Lizzie Borden Chronicles Overstays Its Welcome

by Kristin Battestella

Following the 2014 Lizzie Borden Took an Ax Lifetime television movie, Christina Ricci and Clea DuVall reprise their roles as the acquitted murderess and her homely sister for eight episodes of the 2015 The Lizzie Borden Chronicles. Four months after her infamous trial, Lizzie and Emma find returning to the quiet life in Fall River difficult now that Pinkerton Charlie Siringo (Cole Hauser) is investigating the suspicious violence always following in Lizzie's wake...

The rhyme is made ye old for the “Acts of Borden” premiere of The Lizzie Borden Chronicles while prim ladies giving Lizzie dirty looks, kids spying through the window, slow motion jump rope, and surreal ax blows remind us of the previous forty whacks– as if we have forgotten so soon. The sisters are still wrangling with their late father's debtors, but herky jerky camerawork and seizure-inducing montages immediately try for audience cool with intrusive contemporary music to match. The Lizzie Borden Chronicles goes for grit via fast action, on the move dialogue, and flashes of crimes past and present with every blink. This is also a reset, with The Lizzie Borden Chronicles placed before the end scenes of Lizzie Borden Took an Ax, adding an initial confusion amid unnecessary music transitions and blaring rifts. I love westerns – cowboys really need to make a comeback – however The Lizzie Borden Chronicles inexplicably attempts to be Deadwood instead of Penny Dreadful. There is no build upon the innate character creepy and precious few still moments between the sisters, but a Borden brother drops by and there's Victorian pornography. Our Pinkerton doesn't feel the open and shut cases in “Patron of the Arts” are resolved when every murder always benefits “thee” Lizzie Borden, who's visiting the New York theatre as more music montages combine the high society parties, dead bodies, and alleyway rescues before another investigation montage. The Lizzie Borden Chronicles plays at girl power or lesbian teases as our titular spitfire smiles over her teacup, charms women, and kills big bad men. Putting the acquitted and her new Pinkerton adversary face to face should be a wonderful battle of wills, but the sloppy angles and distracting camera interferes, rushing any good conversation in favor of the next kill of the week music video. Characters may endeavor to move on, but the attempted scandalous drama always returns to repetitive kills, pointless boudoir photos, and jarring rock music.

While the first two episodes set the series off on the wrong foot, director Russell Mulchay (Highlander) adds the potential for cinematic suspense in “Flowers.” The camera should never call attention to itself or a cause lack of immersion – especially in a period piece. Here, however, the camera stays still for a conversation, letting the shrewd fully build alongside creepy coffins and pimps. Viewers are able to follow the story, spend time with characters, and revel in consequences from the past and more twists to come. We know certain players are on borrowed time, so stewing in Lizzie's wrath is more fun than a fast whack or two. There are still noticeable zooms, but the movement matches the tense one on one scenes. The Lizzie Borden Chronicles is divided into four blocks with directors doing two episodes each amid five show writers. Such a limited series with so few players should have been more tightly focused with one director and one writer. Instead, this short attention span design is too on the nose with an in your face hip trying to avoid some dreaded period piece yawn. The sociopathic camp is creepy enough in “Welcome to Maplecroft.” Who wants to wake up with Lizzie at the foot of your bed offering you a breakfast scone? Nope! The abundance of neat crimes in Fall River are the perfect way to assure nothing is suspected – but Lizzie is too neat, buying up all the neighboring properties via a generous sale or other, accidental means. The audience has to enjoy the systematic way everyone around the Bordens drops like flies, because having the townsfolk unable to follow the trail back to her is insulting otherwise. Blackmailing thugs are right to fear any “ax of Borden” retributions, and high and low conflicts make the supporting players more interesting – The Lizzie Borden Chronicles might have been neat from the Fall River perspective. Fortunately, the twisted drama unfolds naturally, with firm threats unfettered by intruding rock this episode. Background saloon music, tender strings accenting a romance – The Lizzie Borden Chronicles needed music that would invoke the setting, emotions, and vengeance. Chases about the ominous dark house, gunshots, and clock chimes build suspense, and scenes with interplay rather than camera flair do best.

Convenient falling down the stairs mishaps in “Cold Storage” lead to arrests, inquests, self defense claims, and speculative testimony. Naturally, audiences can't complain about the accuracy of The Lizzie Borden Chronicles as it obviously diverges from history and never professed to be anything but sensational. So-called rough interrogations, however, are weak – character back stories and blackmailing the good catholic over his not so devout proclivities are much more delicious. Unfortunately, the drama is revealingly thin without the busy camera, music montages, and choppy editing. The meaty scenes with the main cast are best, but such moments are too brief to sustain the entire forty minutes. Viewers expecting macabre instead of melodramatic affairs will be disappointed – even the killer twists become routine, and with such transparency, The Lizzie Borden Chronicles might have done better as half hour webisodes. After all, it isn't a persecution complex when Lizzie really has orchestrated this death tally in “Fugitive Kind.” Swift trials leave little time for prosecution tension – the courtroom consequences are over before the title card – but seeing pathological liar Lizzie swearing to tell the truth on the witness stand is a winking irony. Sadly, important scenes seem left on the cutting room floor, and critical information is dropped in quick throwaways, leaving the viewer to question what just happen or presume the details – a very slip shod way to tell a story. Despite ditching the wham bam music video format, the pace drags with who's on who's side or which guy is beating up the other guy this week filler. Jealously, murderous plotting gone awry, and the reaction on Lizzie's face are better than such back and forth, but the writing on The Lizzie Borden Chronicles really doesn't give the cast a chance to bring it. Brief confrontations can't be fully appreciated because Lizzie makes anyone who sees her for what she really is disappear in an episode or less. Besides, it's no fun when she pays thugs to off her intended in dark, chaotic scenes rather than her own DIY.

Kids daring to ring the doorbell and covered furniture add a spooky whiff to “The Sisters Grimke,” but it is awfully late in the game for The Lizzie Borden Chronicles to switch from Massachusetts to Maine and Nevada with boys will be boys rock outs, unassuming school teacher disguises, and resetting cowboy vendettas. We're just getting into psychosis reasonings now? Reporters in the middle of nowhere want headlines but where were the yellow journalism muckrakers when the heads were rolling in Fall River? Chopped up bodies, catatonics, institutions – we know murders about campus and electroshock therapy are coming and the disturbing hospital horrors are good. Unfortunately, leap frogging the times and places compromises the development of the series regulars, and The Lizzie Borden Chronicles tacks on Tom Horn and Bat Masterson in some kind of Lizzie Goes West potluck. The Lizzie Borden Chronicles suffers from the same structural problems as its precursor film with little rhyme or reason to its presentation. Again, why not space out the Fall River aftermath, New York actress mayhem, alias move and institution, and Pinkerton investigations in four more telemovies? This series gets off to a very rocky start, provides some suspense potential in its middle, but devolves with another move to Boston in the “Capsize” finale. Recovering from shock therapy and turn of the century traveling move fast amid madhouses run amok, slo-mo shootouts, Irish mob families, Russian roulette, gunslingers, and gangsters. Say what?

Lizzie Borden – who prefers “former Sunday School Teacher” to “ax killer” – knows how to solve problems and enjoys intimating children claiming they are not afraid of her. While Lizzie says she's glad to be a grown woman on her own with no intention of having a husband, she'll flirt and seduce for her murderous gains. Lizzie won't sleep with a guy and further tarnish her reputation, but she'll bludgeon him hot diggity! From buying a new mansion after eliminating her creditors to playing dress up with a rescued hooker she treats like a pet, Lizzie loves pleasing herself on the party scene. Girl kisses happen fast on The Lizzie Borden Chronicles as well, with Lizzie ready to pounce on her latest BFF in the dressing room so long as it suits her agenda. Although I wish The Lizzie Borden Chronicles had maintained the nude or scantily clad killing theories and going to bathe or naughty whatnot after the thrill, Lizzie commits a lot of bloody acts in some pretty expensive, fashionable clothes. Despite her finery, she's apathetic and casual, unfettered by the violence she causes. After telling her lies so many times, Lizzie genuinely believes she is not a monster. Ironically, we like Lizzie – Ricci looks the cute but crazy look and viewers know to take all she says with a heap of salt. This could have been a truly fun performance, but Ricci doesn't seem onscreen very much save for the same act three death strokes each week. Modern dialogue makes Lizzie's threats feel invalid, and blurry focusing with rock music punctuation is unnecessary. After all, what's the point of The Lizzie Borden Chronicles if we can't see all her killer camp?

Unable to revel in their infamy, Clea DuVall's Emma Borden reads aloud for fun and calls what happened to her younger sister “The Unpleasantness.” She tries to do her church going Christian best to see the good in everyone but distrusts their wayward brother and can't understand why Lizzie enjoys being the star of her own little circus. Emma is aware their family seems marked by tragedy, but rather than having room to become the audience's moral center, it's again odd that The Lizzie Borden Chronicles takes places before the coda of the film – confusing the sisters' timeline and erasing Emma's subsequent knowledge about Lizzie's killings. This backtrack dumbs Emma down, going from a woman who leaves her sister alone to one dreaming of having her own husband and happy to have any romantic prospect. Unfortunately, she can't escape all the skeletons in her closet – wink – and such macabre scandals are forgotten, left unexplained, or throwaway used in as needed contrivances instead of steering any actual character development. Emma's frumpy, meek style is also more to visually contrast with flashy Lizzie than show personality, and quiet conversations about Emma raising Lizzie are more interesting. She can't exactly be proud of the woman her sister has become or move on with her life and leave Lizzie alone. Emma tries to vindicate Lizzie and get to the bottom of the violence in their lives, but those answers won't be coming any time soon. Ultimately, she can't be bothered to hide her feelings – it's tough to be an upstanding woman when Lizzie Borden is your sister! However, I'm unsure how The Lizzie Borden Chronicles would have continued with Emma if there had been a second season. Nor I think did they after backing either an unwanted character into a corner or rightfully loving Clea and trying to give her more if silly storylines.

There's no doubt we need more Pinkerton dramas. However, the inclusion of Cole Hauser (Rogue) as the unwelcome real life bounty hunter Charlie Siringo with his free rein badge shooting people and asking questions later sends mixed signals on The Lizzie Borden Chronicles. He's hired to review the Borden case, but locals are reluctant to go back to the infamous past. Siringo sees through Lizzie's current crimes, but politically minded officials give him an uphill legal battle. While tension between Siringo and recurring ladies and twists on why he is in Fall River add depth, he seems too invested in persecuting Lizzie – to the point that we know almost nothing else about this wild historical figure. Siringo's rough past is told rather than seen with no careful battle of wills or accumulation of evidence, and The Lizzie Borden Chronicles resorts to extreme outlaws, shootouts, and half cocked attacks to bring down the character. Numerous guests should have stuck around longer on The Lizzie Borden Chronicles as well, including rival businessman James Heard (Home Alone) and Andrew Howard (Bates Motel) as disowned brother William Borden. Unfortunately even the supporting cast appearing in six or more episodes serve as little more than their stereotypes, such as hustler Bradley Stryker (iZombie), nasty doctor Ronan Vibert (Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norell), abusive hotel owner John Ralston (Flash Gordon), and former friend to Lizzie Olivia Llewellyn (Penny Dreadful). Not that the Bordens bode well for friendly officer Dylan Taylor (Copper), Nance O'Neil based actress Jessy Schram (Nashville), and mobster matron Michelle Fairley (Game of Thrones) either.

Fortunately, the gloves and muffs add a refined, little lady would never kill vein alongside hats, parasols, feathers, lace, and puffy sleeves invoking fine ladies silhouettes. Lanterns and candlelight create a golden patina, however the camera never stays still long enough to steep in the atmospheric attention to detail, making The Lizzie Borden Chronicles feel nondescript despite being a period show. Brief focuses on cursive writing will be tough for millennials, and the editing moves blink and you miss it fast over the shock reveals, skeleton accents, and dead babies. Zooms and hectic handicam photography almost feel like a deliberate covering up the cut production corners technique. Pull back so viewers can see the autumn leaves, snow on the ground, Victorian carriages, and architectural facades. Thanks to either cheapness or television ratings, there's only mild splatter and brief gruesomes, and The Lizzie Borden Chronicles name drops Bleak House and Sherlock Holmes instead, hitting home the currently renowned then-entertainment as if the audience can't be trusted to like the turn of the last century. Again, especially now having seen the series, Lizzie Borden Took an Ax should have been the household up to the forty whacks with The Lizzie Borden Chronicles recounting the courtroom aftermath and any manor of Victorian horror, mysticism, or Massachusetts witches with homicidal Lizzie at the center of it all.

While bemusing for a drinking game, weekend marathon, or fans of the cast, The Lizzie Borden Chronicles never lives up to its potential and fails to provide a coherent, binge worthy plot. The first episode of The Lizzie Borden Chronicles is faulty, and the series grows a little too preposterous with fast conveniences and weekly guests becoming just another notch on Lizzie's ax handle. Despite a fun predecessor and the charming Christina Ricci, The Lizzie Borden Chronicles retains the haphazard flaws from Lizzie Borden Took an Ax, snowballing into an all over the place one trick pony used eight times too many.