Author: phil

  • THE THING (1982)

        Many people know how this movie was overshadowed by the incredibly popular E.T. when it first came out.  It was a box-office bomb for Universal Pictures.  But gradually its reputation spread by word of mouth, until, about twenty-five years later, many people rate it among the best horror movies ever.  I definitely
    would not go that far, but The Thing definitely packs a punch to the gut.

         I remember how disappointed I was with
    this movie the first time I saw it. I can recall what I
    thought was missing in The Thing.  What I
    wanted to know about was the terrible change from being human to becoming  the ultimate alien monster; do you feel
    horrified, ecstatic, or perhaps a rush roughly like
    adrenaline but more intense, as you sense your new powers.

        Watching this movie now, I still would love
    some answers to my questions.  But I don’t think
    the filmmakers had this in mind.  It definitely did
    not come up during the Commentary included in
    the deluxe DVD with John Carpenter and Kurt Russell. They
    focused squarely on other issues.

        First, how does a group of people
    not trained for war react when suddenly face to face with
    an enemy different from anything that people have ever
    fought?  Second, how do they cope with the
    sudden paranoia when they’re surrounded by people in a closed
    space, and some of them could be already infected by the
    Thing?

       Questions about exactly how  and
    when the infected people got infected go
    unanswered.  Many plot threads are left dangling at the
    end.   But then again, that’s not what this movie
    focuses on.

        What you get instead are the desperate
    strategies these new recruits try to use, when
    suddenly threatened with a life-form capable of taking over
    the whole planet.  (In just over three years,
    according to Blair’s computer.)  And the added
    desperation of knowing that any of the people around them could
    already have been taken over by this life-force.  This is the
    focus of The Thing, not any deep philosophical questions.

        The Thing begins in the
    brightest of daylight with one unanswered question.  Why are
    these Norwegian researchers risking their own lives, and
    those of the Americans, to kill a dog?  The Norwegians
    seem hysterical with panic, but why?  When one of them
    injures a member of the Americans to get to the dog, he is
    immediately shot dead.  Zero chance for explanations.

        One of the M.D.’s, Copper, and the helicopter
    pilot MacCready fly to the Norwegian base
    to investigate.  The clues they find suggest something
    horrible but impossible to pin down.  Every
    building burned.  A bloody axe buried in a wooden
    door.  A man sitting, now frozen, his wrists and
    throat slashed with a straight razor.  Strangest of all,
    the body of a distorted man, combined with some
    other lifeform, frozen in the snow just outside the
    buildings.  The face contorted, seemingly stretched into
    two distinct halves, facing slightly different directions.

    image

    MacCready finds a Norwegian dead, an apparent suicide…no
    explanation

          MacCready and Copper fly the frozen body back
    to base.  It is dissected but its internal organs appear
    normal.

       Each man on the base does his best to resume life as
    usual.  Bennings, the man shot in the leg, hopes that a
    card game will relax his nerves.  A dog, the same one the
    Norwegians tried to kill, brushes against him, making him
    jump.  This dog has been wandering the rooms and passageways
    of the base all day, with everyone’s mind on other
    things.  Bennings asks Clark, the man responsible for the
    dogs, to put this one in the pen with the others.

        The dog hesitates at first, then enters the pen
    and lies down, not sure what the others will do.

    You can’t tell how the pack will figure out who’s now the dominant
    dog.  Whether dominance can be established without a
    fight.  The other dogs make threatening signs.  Can this
    battle be settled without bloodshed?

        Suddenly this question is shoved aside for all
    time, as the conflict changes into something worse than most
    nightmares.  Personally I cannot recall ever having a
    nightmare as bad as this.

        The dog’s fur and skin rip apart.  From
    this mass of naked muscle, legs tear themselves free, spider-like
    legs, but from a spider as big as the dog.  Unearthly shrieks
    come from the mass of flesh and contorting legs.
    Venomous-looking liquid shoots out of somewhere in this formless creature, covering one of the dogs while structures looking like tentacles strangle it.

    image

    The dog–starting to change

    Congratulations.  You’ve just witnessed the best special
    effects in movie history, the first of several in The Thing.  Someday someone will accomplish more, using CGI, but this
    is still the champion for right now, over 25 years and
    counting.

        The camp’s other M.D. Dr. Blair, and MacCready,
    the chopper pilot, are starting to get the big picture now
    and it is plenty ugly.  What they are dealing with is an
    extra-terrestrial form of life with the ability to change
    itself into a perfect replica of another form of life.  It
    can copy one of the humans as easily as it can one of the
    dogs.  Blair becomes obsessed with cutting off all the
    Thing’s possible escape routes, shooting the rest of the
    dogs, and destroying the helicopter, tractor, and the computer
    system.

        MacCready appears less educated than the
    others, but he is the most intelligent, resourceful,
    and courageous.  In addition, he is an excellent
    detective, taking clues and quickly using them to
    gain insight.  Along with Blair, he is the first to feel
    the coming wave of paranoia that will soon sweep
    the others:  Given its capabilities to mold itself, any
    one of them could be harboring the Thing.

        You can sense the paranoia after Dr. Copper
    thinks of a way to identify the Thing using
    refrigerated blood kept for emergencies.  But the crew
    finds the entire blood supply is gone.  Accusations
    and counter-accusations fly. The intense fear is masked with
    an anger, genuine fury, probably the crew’s best defense
    against panic.

    image

    MacCready: “Trust’s a hard thing to come by these
    days.”

         A new blood test is devised, but order is on
    the verge of crumbling.  Garry, the only man with a key
    to the blood supply has become a prime suspect.  Other
    major suspects: Dr. Copper, who often gets access to  blood,
    and Clark, due to the long stretches of time he spends with the
    dogs.  Blair, the man with the deepest insights into the
    Thing’s biology, is kept prisoner after his spree of
    destruction.  Garry is deeply offended about being
    accused, and refuses to be leader any more.  MacCready, with
    his courage and decisive nature takes charge; he is all that
    stands between the crew and chaos.

        The new blood test is given.  Without giving too much away, leave it at this:  All the guesses as to the Thing’s identity (to be fair, all were backed up with some logic) turn out to be dead wrong.  In a few scenes,which match the dog-transformation scene in their power, the Thingis brought out of hiding, in ways that are as imaginative as they are horrific.  To repeat one of the most quoted lines in The Thing, one astonished crew member
    stares at a new lifeform the Thing created, saying “You
    gotta be fucking kidding.”

        The death toll mounts, but no one can say which
    of the survivors has become the Thing’s latest replicated
    form of life.  Scariest of all is MacCready’s idea, probably
    sound thinking: The Thing will be happy to go to sleep
    in the intense cold and wait until spring to revive itself.
    He sees only one answer, and it means sacrificing all who
    have survived this far, “We’re going to have to warm things
    up around here.”

        Plenty of plot threads are left hanging:
    What was the deal with the torn-up uniforms?  Who turned
    on the light in MacCready’s shack?  Whatever happened to
    Nauls?  Just forget these details for now.
    This movie finally puts to rest, the man in the monster suit
    with the zipper down the back.

        Listen to the Commentary, and appreciate how
    much the technical advances meant to the filmmakers’ sense of
    creativity.  As much as we all loved E.T. we
    can now appreciate how alien a form of life from
    another solar system might be.  Especially a form of life
    with the intention of re-populating our planet.

        I can’t say enough good things about Rob
    Bottin’s special effects.  We are all less fortunate for
    the limited amount of work he has done since, after
    reportedly burning out to keep up with finishing this
    movie.  The music by Ennio Morricone (The Good the Bad and the Ugly) is chilling, with two notes, like sinister heartbeats
    repeating again and again, building the tension.  Kurt
    Russell (MacCready) has never been better.  The rest of
    the cast, mostly familiar as character actors, are excellent
    as well.

    The Thing begins with some rather conventional
    flying-saucer effects.  What comes next is anything but
    conventional.  Forget the loose ends in the plot.  This
    is one movie that will grab you and not let go.

  • FRANKENSTEIN MUST BE DESTROYED

        Frankenstein Must be Destroyed was
    the next-to-last appearance of Peter Cushing as
    Baron Frankenstein.  This movie does have its faults.
      Probably the most serious; you have virtually no reason
    to sympathize with the baron anymore.  He is almost
    overwhelmingly evil.

        But after an undistinguished first half, things
    change radically.  The movie takes a devastating detour,
    turning into a bizarre, tragic love story, as powerful as it is
    unexpected.  You suddenly find yourself in a different
    tale.  Not the baron’s anymore, but that of Dr. Brandt and
    his wife Ella. 

        Imagine being light-years away from the person you
    loved most.  Then years later, you are back in the same
    house, close enough to watch them sleep.  Yet you know this
    is as close to them as you can ever get. 

        Many reasons for this.  But the strongest
    one: you really aren’t you anymore.  It is a
    startling idea, especially in a movie made in the late
    ‘60’s. 

        Much of the story up till then has gone in a
    different direction.  You watch the baron, feeling regret,
    but much more, feeling disgust.   His positive feelings
    have been bled out of him.  He does violence without
    regret. 

         As the movie opens, a well-dressed man walks
    down a street.  Suddenly another figure emerges from the
    shadows, a scythe in his hand.  In one stroke, he slices off
    the first man’s head, and calmly places it into a box he
    brought for this purpose.  This is your re- introduction to
    the new, savagely embittered Baron  Frankenstein.

        How has he become so cruel, so lacking in
    feeling?  Without excusing him, the movie gives you
    an explanation.   

      The baron sees himself as a man of vision, someone able to
    see past the limits of the scientific establishment. 
    For years, he has waited, relishing his opportunity to show them
    his greatness and their small-mindedness. 

         But despite his brilliance and imagination, he
    has seen frustration after frustration.  Is it God, or
    fate, or luck, or karma or Murphy’s Law?  The baron, a
    materialist through and through, is only sure it is
    not God… because God does not exist.   He is
    only sure of his ever-growing fury and ruthlessness,
    as though he is at war with the Universe.

          Baron Frankenstein tries to start fresh in a
    new town with a new identity, Mr. Fenner.  (He
    is careful not to call himself “Doctor.”)     In no
    time, his beautiful landlady, Anna, and her fiancé, Dr. Karl
    Holst, have become his blackmail victims.  (Anna’s mother
    lives in an expensive hospice, and Karl has been stealing
    cocaine from the medical facility and selling it, to pay for her
    stay.)

           The Baron does not need their help for
    a new creation.  He has something more urgent in mind. 
    It turns out that the Baron’s former research colleague, Dr.
    Brandt is an inmate at the hospital for the insane where Karl
    works.

        It is Dr. Brandt’s help that the Baron needs. 
    Brandt has made progress where the Baron was unsuccessful.
      Baron Frankenstein is obsessed with finding out Brandt’s
    discoveries.

        However the medical staff is sure that Brandt is
    unreachable.  His devoted wife Ella continues to
    visit him, never giving up hope that he will recover.  
    He shows no response to her.  To the doctors,
    he alternates between long stretches of total apathy and
    short bursts of  violence.

       Yet the baron believes he can cure Brandt’s
    insanity.  He can see only one way to solve this problem.
    Brandt must literally be kidnapped out of the
    hospital.    With Karl’s help the baron is able
    to do this.  Amazingly, he is also able to cure Brandt’s
    insanity through surgery.  imageThe surgery transferring Brandt’s brain turns out to be the
    easy part 

        But fate continues to plague Baron
    Frankenstein.  In getting free, Brandt has suffered a heart
    attack.  The baron knows Brandt has only days to live. 
    Frankenstein’s solution is grim but simple; he kills
    a respected surgeon, Dr. Richter, and places Brandt’s brain
    in Richter’s body.

       Again his gift for surgery serves the baron
    well.  And again fate betrays him; Brandt’s wife
    sees Frankenstein on the street, and believing she recognizes
    him, follows him home.

        The baron greets her warmly, and deceives her with a
    brilliant mix of truth, lies, and omissions.  He admits
    he is Frankenstein, and explains that kidnapping her husband was
    necessary to restore his sanity.  Then he tells her she
    may see her husband, though she may have trouble
    recognizing him, covered with bandages.  Doing this
    allows him not to tell her that her husband’s brain is
    now in Richter’s body.

         Unable to speak yet, Brandt is able to
    communicate with hand movements.  In addition,
    he recognizes his wife’s voice and can tell her this. 
    The baron’s plan is working to perfection.  He convinces
    Mrs. Brandt that her husband needs rest.   But she is welcome
    anytime to see him.  The minute she is gone, he turns to
    Karl and says, “Pack.  We’re leaving.”

        Frankenstein, Karl, Anna and Dr. Brandt (in Dr.
    Richter’s body) find refuge in a deserted estate.  In
    the next few minutes you start to realize: this is not
    Frankenstein’s story anymore.  It is Brandt’s story
    now; his desperate try at returning home, in every sense of
    the word.  

       Perhaps Brandt realizes right away that he and his
    wife can never regain what they have lost. 
    He has access to all his former consciousness, but the wrong
    body; the old one is dead.  His wife will only see him
    as another face, hear him as another voice.  

        And if she could ever accept him this way,
    it is too late now.   She has been shocked, traumatized
    too many times.  Already she has lived through his
    plunge into insanity, followed by years in the
    hospital. Years he was unable to even give her a smile of
    recognition.  The kidnapping.  Her joy at the
    baron telling her, her husband has returned and is sane
    now.  Then both her husband and the baron disappearing.

         And the final stab, the police showing her,
    her dead husband’s body.

        A brilliant, resourceful man, Brandt must realize
    too that Baron Frankenstein will never leave them in peace
    again.   The baron is a force of nature, dead set on finding
    out Brandt’s conclusions.  At the risk of stretching
    things a little, Frankenstein reminds me of Hannibal Lecter—he
    never stops coming at you.

        Brandt escapes from the baron and heads straight
    home.  Already he can sense just how poor the odds are
    that he and his wife can start a second life together.  Life
    has hurt her too much for her to accept him.  Second,
    Frankenstein will stop at nothing to get to his (Brandt’s)
    research conclusions. The baron would even kill Ella; her
    life means nothing to him.

       Brandt gets home.  He knows how much he needs to
    do before Frankenstein gets there.  Time is precious
    beyond belief.  He yearns to speak to Ella after so long.
      Yet he realizes full well how difficult it will be; to
    explain all that’s happened.  The music is poignant as he
    stands there a moment, watching her as she sleeps, but afraid
    to wake her.

       The best he can do is leave her a note, hope she
    reads it next morning, and speak to her then.

         Next day he is there when she wakes. 
    Ella reacts with even more pain than Brandt expected. 
    Perhaps he never realized that after his disappearance, his
    wife was told he was dead.

        He can only try to explain (in another man’s voice)
    all that has taken place.  He quickly realizes that she
    cannot take all this in.  Life has already dealt her one too
    many grim surprises.

        He speaks to her from behind a screen, afraid
    of the added shock of her seeing him.  When Ella finally
    does,  she faints.  She regains consciousness but the
    couple is past the point of ever communicating:

        “Don’t touch me.”

        “I wouldn’t harm you, Ella.  I’m your husband.”

        “You’re not anything….human.”

        Veteran director, Terence Fisher described this
    movie as the love story he had wanted to create. 
    He ultimately succeeded… although of course it is a tragic
    one.  Ella is faithful to her husband’s memory for
    years, while his mind was imprisoned.  And when he finally
    can return, he can’t reach Ella.  

         Give credit too, to a powerful script from
    Bert Batt, an assistant director who was never able to
    sell another screenplay.  And to Fisher, for a unique,
    powerful love story, taking place under
    bizarre circumstances.

        Peter Cushing as always, is excellent as the
    baron.  Maxine Audley is effective too, in the difficult
    role of Ella Brandt.  And Freddie Jones, so powerful as
    the cruel carnival owner in The Elephant Man,
    has probably never been better as the tormented
    Brandt/Richter.     

  • HORRROR OF DRACULA

         Horror of Dracula was an eye-opener when it was first released (in 1957).  In his great book of short reviewsThe Psychotronic Encyclopedia of Film, Michael Weldon calls it “The best vampire film ever made.”  I think he’s absolutely right.

         Its studio, Hammer, had a small budget to work with.   Much less freedom to use special effects likethose, for example in Bram Stoker’s Dracula, years later.  Hammer had to leave out several parts of the novel requiring special effects.

       Still the stripped-down plot taken from Bram Stoker’sgreat 1897 novel is focused and absorbing; scenes and images will
    stay with you.  Screenwriter Jimmy Sangster and director
    Terence Fisher got what they wanted.

      They believed that, to tell the story right, their
    movie needed two elements.   First, to spill blood like
    never before.   Second, the freedom to show women
    lusting for Count Dracula.  It meant pushing the censors
    (even stricter in the United Kingdom than in the USA) to new
    limits.  Remember, 1957 was still the era of Doris Day/Rock
    Hudson comedies.

       Horror of Dracula did not share much with the 1931 Universal Studios Dracula.But surprisingly, this was a good thing.   Most of that movie had been based on a Broadway play; the longer it goes on, the more stage-y it feels. The new Count Dracula, Christopher Lee,had never seen the Universal movie.   Instead, he reread
    the novel many times for his inspiration.

    image

    Christopher Lee–Dracula

       The opening scenes succeed in translating much of the
    book’s atmosphere.  The count is polite and speaks good
    English.   You don’t immediately feel anything sinister
    about him.  But all this is just a mask; you learn real fast
    that things are wrong here.

       Jonathan Harker has come to Castle Dracula in the
    disguise of librarian, his real mission to destroy Dracula.
    The count gives Harker a brief, but warm welcome.  He says
    little except for his compliments while he looks at photos of
    Harker’s beautiful fiancée Lucy.

       But you learn how false this mask is.  That night Harker walks downstairs and meets a woman begging him forhelp.  She tells him that Dracula is keeping her prisoner.

       Harker is unsure whether to believe her.  But when he later wanders downstairs, he accepts her word for everything.  Again the same embrace but this time with a savage difference; she turns her mouth to his neck and bares herteeth to bite him.

       What follows is probably the most intense scene in
    director Fisher’s career.  You see Dracula at the top of the
    staircase, face in close-up, eyes bright red.  In an instant
    he is down the stairs, throwing the woman to the floor.  She
    hisses back at him in pure fury.image

    The savagery behind the polite shell  

         The two of them literally snarl at
    one another, hungry cats fighting over a scrap of food.

        Or maybe; two junkies fighting over just enough
    dope to get one of them off.  You feel a sense of
    viciousness, rarely experienced onscreen 50 years ago.  It
    shows another side of Dracula, one that stays with you.  A
    truth about him that makes Lucy and Mina’s craving for him more
    unsettling.    You have already seen his
    animal side.

    image

    Harker abruptly realizes what he is dealing
    with 

    Harker is soon dead, a victim of his own bad judgment in trying to
    stake Dracula. But Harker’s work is taken up by a new vampire
    hunter—Dr. Van Helsing.  An insightful, intelligent,
    imaginative, articulate, courageous man.  Someone who’s able
    to deal with vampires, but with others too:  Superstitious
    peasants in Transylvania, terrified of strangers.  Members of
    the Victorian-era middle class with just enough scientific
    knowledge to reject anything they believe is superstition.
    (The movie is set in Germany but its characters seem much more
    English than German.)

       Worst, a middle class that puts down its women,
    ignoring both their intellect and their sexuality.  The men,
    mostly pompous, self-satisfied, know-it-alls.   The
    women’s lives empty and boring.  It’s no great surprise these
    women are ready to follow a figure as charismatic as Dracula.

        Van Helsing knows all this and knows he must
    deal with these things alone.

       As he moves from each closed world to another, Van
    Helsing must deal with the peasants’ mistrust, and the
    Holmwoods’(Jonathan’s close friends) lack of belief.
    His job is especially difficult with this family.  Van
    Helsing needs to respectfully, yet forcefully convince them their
    rational, scientific outlook is accurate… but limited.
    Vampires still exist, and modern science is helpless against them.

       Most of all Van Helsing understands vampires; their
    craving for blood, a craving that inevitably strips away all
    humanity.  A craving more potent than friendship, love, even
    the taboos against harming a child.  He knows what Harker did
    not; how to use the weapons he has.image

    Dr. Van Helsing–great personal courage 

         When the scene shifts from Transylvania to
    middle-class Germany, Van Helsing has the difficult job of telling
    Harker’s friends that Jonathan is dead.    With
    great tact, Van Helsing wins over Mr. Holmwood.

        At this same moment, Van Helsing faces a new
    crisis.  Lucy, Harker’s fiancée, has been suffering anemia
    without explanation.  Lucy is a kindhearted but naive woman,
    over-protected all her life.  Her future already determined:
    wife and mother in the privileged class.

       Slowly but surely you sense a change in Lucy.
    As much as any British movie at that time could show, you feel her
    yearning, then lusting, for an unknown force to possess her.
    Watch her reaction to the garlic placed at her window for
    protection (no, it’s not the smell that makes her uneasy.)
    Watch her lie down in bed and open her nightgown to
    expose her throat.   Then watch her look of quiet
    expectation as the wind swirls the leaves outside her
    window. image

     Lucy waits for the Count; subtle images yet nearly censored in 1957

        She waits for someone, the opposite of the gracious
    but utterly bland Jonathan.  Someone with no hesitation about
    taking what he wants.   The count has left his castle
    and descended upon a  society with no defense against
    him.  Gasoline and matches.

       Lucy dies from loss of blood.  She is buried,
    yet Tania, a servant’s young child, has seen her at night, in the
    garden.  Van Helsing knows what must be done.

        Already, Lucy has asked Tania to go walking
    with her.  Without showing any violence, the movie makes it
    clear; though Lucy has known Tania for years, the girl is nothing
    to her now.  Only an easy  blood-meal.  You are
    light-years away here from the little girl in
    Interview with the Vampire.

       Van Helsing, not a pious man, is described by critics
    as a man with an intimate knowledge of sacred objects as weapons
    in his arsenal.  He uses a cross to stop Lucy in her tracks
    by placing it against her forehead, burning her deeply.  She
    flees back to her crypt.  Tania watches, one small step from
    hysteria.  Her plea, “I want to go home,” only hints at how
    close she is to chaos.

      But Van Helsing stays in control.  “And so you shall,”
    he tells her, his words symbolizing the calm presence he
    brings.  Very quietly, very assuredly he asks Tania to wait
    for him.

       Van Helsing must convince Holmwood that their only
    way to save Lucy’s soul is to drive a stake through her
    heart.  (In the novel, they must also cut her head off.)

        Blood gushes, but Van Helsing finishes his
    work.  Afterwards, his wisdom is clearly shown by the
    transformed expression on Lucy’s face, the sweetness, the
    innocence of the old Lucy.

         The violence that Fisher believed he
    needed to show is essential.  Lucy’s demonic urges must be
    purged from her to restore her to purity.  To
    understand, to taste for yourself the transformation from
    Lucy to vampire, then back to Lucy, you need to see the
    cancer cut out of her.

         Critics at the time, especially in
    England, criticized Fisher’s onscreen violence.  He believed
    that storytellers of magical tales needed to portray the struggle
    between good and evil graphically.  Suggestion was not
    enough.  His goal was not the ambiguity Val
    Lewton aimed for, and achieved so well, in
    Cat People and
    The Seventh Victim.  Instead Fisher strived
    for something closer to the horror of Germanic folk tales and
    legends.  The ones before well-meaning people created tamer
    versions, believing these tales must be made suitable for
    children.

        Sadly, time and budget limits meant that many
    of the novel’s characters had to be minimized or left out
    completely.  Stoker’s theme of a group of brothers and a
    sister united by common blood against a sinister foe is
    gone.  Van Helsing must face Dracula alone.

       In every way, he is up to the task.
    Horror of Dracula becomes a pure action movie
    after the count begins his flight back to the castle and
    Transylvania.  And it may be Hammer’s best action movie
    ever.  A fight to the death between two figures, both larger
    than life.  Peter Cushing, with a style of acting once
    described as “fussy” proves himself not just scholarly, but
    tough.

       Hammer’s peak years lasted until about 1962.
    The studio never could top what they achieved in this movie.
    Only one vampire movie The Brides of Dracula,
    even comes close, along with a scattering of others.  Hammer
    tried to ride the wave of freedom to show more sex, nudity, and
    violence in the late 60’s but it was too late.  Horror of Dracula
    remains their best, the real deal, especially when you imagine how
    it must have felt to people accustomed to Rock Hudson/Doris
    Day.  Don’t miss this one.

  • THE WOMAN IN BLACK

       The fury of a mother believing her son was stolen
    from her…later, left to die.  Her endless search for
    justice—or maybe endless vengeance… going way past
    an-eye-for-an-eye.

         A young father dealing with the loss of his
    wife in childbirth.  He struggles to crawl out of the place
    he has escaped to…he knows his son needs him.   But the pain
    of feeling is nearly unbearable.   Now he is threatened with
    losing his job—his work record has been poor since her death.
     He knows he and his boy stand on the edge of disaster.

         The last thing the young man needs is to enter
    this woman’s world—yet he has no choice, if he wants to save his
    job.  The house where this woman hanged herself needs to be
    sold, and his law firm demands he settle the paperwork.
     “This is your final warning,” is how the head of the firm
    puts it.

         The man, Arthur Kipps (Daniel Radcliffe,
    veteran of the Harry Potter series) comes to a town haunted by
    unending tragedy.  All Arthur wants is to take care of legal
    business but he is unwelcome.   He cannot understand the
    reasons all at once.  Everyone in town wants him to gather
    the papers he needs—and get out—now.

         But Arthur can’t do what is necessary without
    staying a while and investigating a house no one wants any part
    of.  Everyone in town fears that the vengeful woman’s spirit
    haunts this house.  If her spirit is disturbed in any way,
    the town will suffer more tragedy; they already have suffered
    deeply.

         Arthur needs to spend time there, with only a
    small dog for company.  Some of these stretches will feel
    like your standard generic haunted-house movie: the mysterious
    noises, the ghostly figures emerging in silence, the white faces
    of dead children standing motionless in the rain, the creepy
    wind-up toys banging cymbals or shakingtheir tambourines at the
    most suspenseful moments.

    image

    Arthur–no choice but to deal with the house and its
    legacy
     

         Yet Arthur’s character takes this story in
    some new directions.  His personal tragedy (the death of his
    beautiful young wife) gives him courage.  Whatever spirits
    and ghosts he runs into, they can’t do much more to him than life
    already has.  The house hasn’t got much that can really scare
    him—he has a job to do, and he is already numb.  You don’t
    expect him to run screaming out of this house unless it’s
    something really serious.

    image

    Personal tragedy has left him with little else to
    fear

         The irony is that people in town are exactly
    right—any time the lady has a reason to appear, children will die.
     And anyone who sees her (Arthur the most likely)—spreads
    death like a contagious disease.  Her presence at the house
    is unmistakable—Arthur sees her again and again.  Just
    glimpses, but enough.  The first child Arthur sees face to
    face in town dies that day; she drinks lye before anyone has a
    chance to save her.  

          Everyone is positive this girl won’t be the
    last to die—Arthur has seen the woman,and this makes him a sure
    messenger of death.

    image

    image

    Three more children, swept up in Jennet’s spell

         You learn that the vengeful woman in black,
    Jennet, lost her son to her sister, Alice Drablow.  Her son
    Nathaniel never got the sweet, loving cards Jennet sent him—Alice
    hid them.  Alice even got legal papers signed to keep Jennet
    from visiting.  Later on, Jennet came to believe that Alice
    left Nathaniel to die when their coach sank into mud on the
    causeway between the house and the mainland.

           You watch the movie, and wait to see
    who in town conspired with Alice the most.  On whom the
    vengeance needed to strike the hardest.  And ironically the
    answer is no one—there are no more dirty secrets.  At least
    none that the movie tells you.  The
    Woman in Black’s plot actually reminds me less of
    an English ghost story than those of recent Japanese horror movies
    such as The Grudge or The Ring—where an avenging spirit will hurt anyone it comes across,
    guilty or innocent.  All it wants to do is lash out—at
    everyone and anyone. 

            Arthur doesn’t understand all of this
    yet.  He knows that Jennet’s spirit has found no rest…and how
    the deaths of children in town took place.  All of them
    appeared to be under a deep spell.  They suddenly stopped
    whatever they were doing, and walked out of windows, or walked
    into the sea.  The second girl Arthur saw dies by setting
    herself on fire.

         What he does believe in is justice, and
    bringing the deaths to an end.  

         He is searching for a way to make everything
    right.  His wife’s death could have affected him in radically
    different ways.  He could have become uncaring…believing the
    Universe is uncaring; why should he care about anyone.

          Or his pain could have made him determined to
    do the best he can, whenever he can, even when he is tempted to
    slide back into not caring, to escape his own pain.  Watch
    him put a tiny bird back into its nest while he explores one of
    the creepiest rooms in the house.   Then a crow screams,
    making him jump.  It lands on a bed.  But Arthur means
    to do the right thing and let it escape—and he makes sure he does.

         Eventually he decides he must re-unite the
    woman’s spirit with the body of her dead son…even though he must
    risk his life pulling the child’s body free from the thick black
    mud surrounding the causeway.  Many of us who have
    experienced sorrow will later make a similar decision–we need to
    do the right thing.

          The film-makers tried to find a middle ground
    between the quiet, subtle, almost mannered approach of
    The Innocents, or The Others,
    and the loud, slam-shocks and close-ups of
    Drag Me to Hell or Se7en.  
    The shocks do tend to be loud in volume, but with hardly any
    blood, let alone body parts getting chopped off.  Their goal
    was not gore, but they did not want a stuffy period piece either.
      This is no Masterpiece Theater.

         One of the few movies I remember close to this
    one was the much underrated 1979 film
    The Changeling, with George C. Scott.  Like
    Arthur, John Russell (Scott’s character) is grieving family
    deaths, and like Arthur, he has no intentions of confronting any
    ghosts.  But his exploring an old house frees a spirit
    looking for justice over a past wrong.

         That story was probably a more traditional
    one—revenge is visited on the guilty—and only on the guilty.
     Too many of the concrete facts are left out in
    The Woman in Black.
     You are never told for sure, but it appears that Jennet
    never had the chance to revenge herself on her sister.  In
    some way, Alice was able to escape Jennet’s reach, her hatred.
     

         Jennet’s spirit became the proverbial
    bottomless pit—no amount of vengeance could ever satisfy her.

          Many say there are no new stories to tell…and
    they have some convincing arguments.  But there are not many
    stories like this one; a spirit of pure hatred, face to face with
    a character who has almost gone past fear.  An individual
    struggling to find meaning in the death of someone they loved
    deeply.  

         You don’t get a twist ending, at least not the
    kind you have grown to expect the last twenty years or so.
     Instead, this story brings you to a conclusion that clearly
    shows you what each individual carries with them.  Many
    American Buddhists are taught some variation on the following:
    Don’t look at the notion of karma as simply, “We all get what we
    deserve.”  There’s a lot more to it.  You can look at
    the ending as plain and simple…or something more subtle, that you
    need to think more about.  I really don’t want to give
    anything more away, to risk ruining it.  See it, judge for
    yourself.

  • WHITE ZOMBIE

          There are some movies that bring out a
    wide range of opinions.  Lots of people really like
    them.  Lots really hate them.  Plenty of people are
    scattered in-between.

       White Zombie is one of those movies.
    There are plenty of reasons.  Not all the acting is good.
    Some is plain bad, especially that of the hero and
    heroine.  White Zombie was made just after the
    silent-film era ended.  Like many early talkies, some of its
    acting feels awkward, dated.  In addition, this movie
    was made on a low budget, and this hurts it at certain
    points.  (One major flub was
    accidentally left in: look closely when Silver, Beaumont’s
    servant is thrown into the water near the end.)  You
    also find humor, possibly too much humor,
    especially one running gag that wears out pretty fast.

    Then why do other people like it so much?
    First, its atmosphere  is often genuinely creepy.  Again
    and again, you get a feeling that characters are in
    way over their heads, trying to deal with forces
    they are ignorant of.  Forces they are unable to fight, even
    if they understood them better.

    Beaumont, the sleazy rich man may remind you
    of Mickey Mouse in The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.  He
    has played with magic and now the magic is pulling him under,
    drowning him.

    Bela Lugosi’s character, Murder Legendre is the
    zombie-maker that Beaumont has paid to turn the woman he
    loves into a zombie.  Legendre is more than idle talk,
    way more.  He has the powers he claims to
    have.  Soon Beaumont is realizing the terrible price of
    dealing with Legendre.

    Lugosi’s best known character, Count Dracula was
    pure evil, with no redeeming features.  But for many
    years now, he has become a rather clichéd character. He has some
    of the vampire’s traditional powers, but you don’t  see
    him use these powers much.

    Legendre is also pure evil, but more than Dracula, he
    is someone capable of doing real damage.  Along with
    Beaumont, you get to see his evil potential.  Legendre and
    the Sayer of the Law in The Island of Lost Souls are probably Lugosi’s all-time best roles.
    image

    Murder Legendre–perhaps Lugosi’s best role

    The story seems pretty straight-forward…at
    first.  The beautiful Madeline has come to Haiti to
    marry Neil, after a long engagement.  Beaumont, the rich
    man Madeline meets on her way there, has fallen wildly in
    love with her.  To turn Madeline into a zombie and keep her
    his captive, Beaumont has made a deal with Murder
    Legendre.  Beaumont hopes that he can make the
    zombie-Madeline fall in love with him.

    It is up to Neil along with an old missionary,
    Bruner to get Madeline away from Beaumont.  Bruner
    is the only character who knows enough about voodoo to match
    Legendre’s powers.

    Why else does White Zombie work?  It
    deals for example with this frightening question:

    What might it feel like to experience your human
    qualities, the capabilities you take for granted,
    begin to  slip away from you?  To turn powerless,
    or into a zombie, unable to think?  Except for some of
    David Cronenberg’s imaginative films (for example,
    The Fly, The Brood, Videodrome, Naked Lunch),   It’s
    a question that not enough horror movies ever deal with.
    The Thing (1982) which probably included
    the best special effects to that point, never really goes
    there.

         White Zombie is able to open this
    frightening door a little.  This is a scene with Legendre
    and Beaumont and you don’t want to be in Beaumont’s place.

    Legendre is reminding Beaumont of the day they made
    the deal for Madeline’s soul.  At that moment Beaumont
    had refused to shake Legendre’s hand. (Beaumont is the kind of
    arrogant aristocrat who hires others to do his dirty work.)
    Now, Beaumont’s hand has turned useless.  You see him
    vainly trying to prod or twist or flex some life back into
    it.

    Nothing works.  Beaumont can no longer speak,
    but he is still able to hear.  Legendre reminds him
    of his past insult.  He tells Beaumont that he,
    Legendre, has turned men into zombies before, but Beaumont is
    the first to know what was happening to them.   Then he adds,
    “We understand each other better now.”

    Beaumont makes a small, pathetic try at touching
    Legendre’s hand with his own.  Legendre pats the useless
    hand, then walks away while Beaumont continues to struggle.
    And like him, you sit there letting your imagination
    do its worst.

    In addition, a lot of White Zombie’s power
    comes from its taking place in a Third-World country in which
    an ancient folk tradition, voodoo, is as strong as organized
    religion.  Of the American and European characters, only
    Bruner has the knowledge to deal with voodoo.  He tells Neil
    straight out that the authorities in this country are too
    intimidated by magic to come to their aid.

    And here is where the movie gets into
    questions of political correctness and racism.  It can’t
    avoid them, when you think about it.

    You can say “Well… this is the 1930’s and these
    characters are typical of that (pre-Civil Rights Era) time.
    They are probably scared as hell to be the minority
    race—White.”   One of Neil’s comments is particularly
    racist; “Alive…in the hands of Natives?  Better
    dead than that.”

    But I think if we are honest with ourselves,
    some of that feeling still exists in white people now.  For
    example, you feel a big relief when Neil, Madeline, and the coach
    driver are finally off the road and safe on Mr. Beaumont’s
    property.  (Keep in mind, the driver who is Afro-American,
    is more afraid than they are.)

    image

    For me, the Black-White issues are definitely part
    of the ominous quality you feel.  But if you are not White, you can still find things to be scared
    about.  The zombies who stay with Legendre, ready at any
    time to do his bidding are all White men.  But they are
    slaves.  Their power to function, think, and feel has
    been torn out, obliterated out of them by Legendre. They are no
    better off than the zombies at Legendre’s mill, whose entire
    existence comes down to turning the creaking wheel in that
    same endless circle, hour after hour after hour. In an understated
    way this is one of the creepiest moments in the movie.

    image

    The mill

    Keep in mind too, that White Zombie was made
    during the worst of the Great Depression.  In those
    days, mandatory overtime was a lot more than a temporary
    inconvenience.  Nobody knew yet if the Depression had
    bottomed out or how much longer it could go on.  Conditions
    today are not as tough.  But most of us (whatever our race and ethnic background) know, or at least know
    of, someone older, unable to retire, forced to work at
    Wal-Mart, or some supermarket or mega-pharmacy. White Zombie taps into those fears too.  For many people in
    the early 1930’s, jobs not much better than in Legendre’s
    sugar mill were all that stood between them and homeless
    life.  Those were the only choices left.

    Before the Depression hit, supernatural themes in
    American movies were rare.  Characters would stay in
    haunted houses and see ghosts, for example. But almost without
    exception the magic and the ghosts turned out to be fakery at
    the end.  Explanations turned out to be rational and
    realistic.

    Here, things feel bleak and out of
    control.  Legendre’s hands hold a candle wrapped
    in Madeline’s scarf, and he squeezes the candle into the
    shape he wants.  At the same moment Madeline starts to
    give a corny, conventional wedding toast, then suddenly looks into
    her glass and says “I see…Death.”  She collapses and
    appears to die.  Intense stuff for a mainstream American
    movie.

    image

    Madeline

    Some of the music is effective too.  The funeral chant as the
    movie opens is another reminder that you are now in an alien
    land.   Much later Neil finally reaches the castle where
    Madeline is a prisoner.

    You sense their souls reaching out, trying somehow to
    contact the other.  The hymn
    Listen to the Lambs, hummed, with no musical
    accompaniment, is eerie and dramatic at this moment.

    Pick a night when you’re feeling patient and open to
    suggestion, the darker and quieter the better.

    Forget about some of the bad acting and dialogue, and concentrate
    on the atmosphere.  White Zombie may very well
    surprise you.

  • THE BROOD

         Many of us have heard about “cycles of family
    violence. “  How this violence is likely to pass down from
    the abused child to their children when that child becomes a
    parent.  Maybe you are talking to someone about a painful
    childhood, and suddenly they stop and say, “I’ve become my
    father.”

    Or my mother… take your pick, whatever
    applies.   If you know enough family history, you may even be
    able to trace the inheritance of abuse from generation to
    generation, until someone is able to put a stop to it.
    Psychologists call this “the break generation,” the one who
    ends the cycle.  One example was John Lennon, an abandoned
    son himself.  (To be fair to Lennon’s father, he
    did offer John the chance to live with him and was turned
    down, when John was a young child.)

    Years later, Lennon chose the life of stay-at
    -home father while his second son, Sean was growing up.  He
    also worked hard to make up for the time he had missed with his
    first son, Julian, after he and Julian’s mother were divorced.

    Most of us have heard stories about physical
    manifestations—people so ill for example that they fantasize about
    being crucified, and then develop marks on their hands as though
    nails had been driven through them.

    The Brood plunges you
    straight down into a bad dream combining these themes:  The
    cycle of family violence, and the stories of physical
    manifestations.  I don’t want to give away too much as to
    who—or what, the Brood are, except to say that they are child-like
    beings.  And that certain abused people can use them to
    strike out at those who hurt them.

    Frank, a divorced father with a young
    daughter, Candy, believes his ex-wife Nola is abusing Candy, and
    that he needs to keep Nola away from her.  Frank has plenty
    of good reasons for his suspicions.  He can see bruises on
    Candy’s back.  Second, Nola has committed herself into a
    psychiatric institute, known as Somafree.

    Somafree is run by Dr. Hal Raglan, whose
    therapy methods are controversial.  Some call him a genius.
    They rave about his book
    The Shape of Rage concerning childhood abuse.
    Others, some of Raglan’s former patients, say he has made
    them worse, and are preparing lawsuits against him.

    Frank has seen moments of Raglan at work with patients when he
    visited Somafree to pick up Candy.  He can see the man’s
    charisma, and his sharp insights.   But Frank can also see a
    man with an ego out of control, taking people to places where they
    may well be dangerous to others and themselves.  And there is
    no mistaking the bruising that he sees on Candy.

    Raglan’s approach is for Nola, like his other
    patients, to confront her rage toward her parents.  Nola’s
    mother is an alcoholic who abused her and continues to deny it
    happened.  She still drinks heavily, even when Candy is with
    her.  Nola’s father Barton was a weak man who stood by and
    let the abuse go on.

    The director David Cronenberg has talked about how
    personal feelings concerning his painful divorce went into writing
    and directing The Brood.  The stories are
    most insightful. But the movie itself is the ultimate proof of
    those intense emotions, and of his directing skill.

    Years ago, one critic described
    The Brood as Cronenberg’s one good film.
    At that time, this was arguably a fair criticism.  But since
    then, several other Cronenberg movies have shown this picture was
    no fluke.  Many people have their own personal favorites he
    directed, mine being perhaps his warmest and most hopeful,
    The Dead Zone.

    Cronenberg has been successful recently with two
    mainstream movies, A History of
    Violence, and Eastern Promises.
    But years ago, he was known as a cult director with a
    reputation for the bizarre and the grotesque.  Martin
    Scorsese actually said he had been frightened about meeting
    Cronenberg for the first time.  (Cronenberg described
    Scorsese as someone “who should have known better.”)  In the
    media, Cronenberg was known as “the king of venereal horror” and
    worse.

    In these movies, ordinary people’s bodies went
    through incredible changes, disturbing, at times disgusting.
    They Came from Within: Human bodies were
    invaded by strange parasites described then as a cross between a
    penis and a large turd.  One character lies on his back,
    watching the outlines of the parasites as they move through his
    body.  Rabid:  a woman develops a
    hypodermic growth in her armpit that kills the men who embrace
    her.

    In The Brood, Dr. Raglan has
    been able to get some of his patients to express their anger into
    physical manifestations: marks on their bodies, or worse, tumors,
    “lymphosarcoma.”

    But with Nola he has gone much further.
    She has actually given birth to living creatures—other
    people at the Institute have mistaken them for children.
    These creatures, her brood, have a clear sense of who it is that
    Nola feels angriest with.

    Possibly a child advocate could argue that
    this movie exploits violence against children for the sake of
    horror.  They are definitely entitled to their point of view.

    My opinion:  this movie is much more than
    that.  It’s much more than the bad guys getting what they
    deserve, or a bunch of evil children who kill teenagers after
    the teenagers have sex

    .image

    A glimpse of the brood–in the house where Nola grew
    up

    The bad parents do get a kind of justice.  But
    innocent people get hurt too.  Cronenberg’s screenplay is not
    perfect but it’s good enough to make you care a lot about the main
    characters.    For example, you feel Candy’s pain over
    and over again.  A sweet little girl who has never hurt
    anyone.  She is torn between two parents who both love her.
    She nearly sees her grandmother killed, then is terrorized
    by the same creature who did the killing.  You don’t realize
    until much later that she knows who these creatures are. Later
    they enter her classroom and quietly walk away with her into a
    snowstorm;  a scene that is poetic in the grimmest kind of
    way…one of the best moments in any Cronenberg movie.

    image

    Nola’s venomous wishes–made real

    You can criticize the ending as kind of clichéd,
    possibly as a cheap shot.  But the image you are left with is
    something else—Candy’s sad, hurt expression as she sits in
    silence.

  • 28 DAYS LATER

        It would be easy for zombie- movie fans to take
    this film lightly.   To call it a combined
    rip-off of the
    Night of the Living Dead/Dawn of the Dead/Day of the
    Dead

    series, the under-appreciated early 70’s movie
    The Crazies, Stephen King’s
    The Stand
    , and lots more you will probably
    remember.  Technically it isn’t even about zombies, but
    people infected with a virus. 

        But writer Alex Garland and director Danny
    Boyle have taken some familiar elements and given them a
    freshness, an originality, even a vision, that is uniquely their
    own.  They have come up with a plot that is simple but
    tight, and well-drawn characters. They also give you several
    subtle reminders as to how precious our stressed-out, early
    21st century life can be, as aggravating as it feel s
    day-to-day.

         This movie could have taken a paranoid
    viewpoint, with mega-corporations uniting to enslave
    the world with disease.  Instead you see a series of
    careless errors that come together to set off bigger
    and bigger explosions.  First, scientists create a virus
    called Rage.  Then they test it on chimpanzees which are
    locked in cruel confinement (tiny glass tanks).  The Rage
    virus turns the chimpanzees into killing machines ready to go
    off at any time. 

        Then, animal rights activists liberate
    them. 

        The activists really want to do the right
    thing.  Given the amount of abuse done to apes in the
    name of science, these activists refuse to believe a researcher
    who tells them they are making a terrible mistake.  They
    react to this man like he is “the boy who cried wolf.”  Only
    this time it’s no bullshit.  With their idealistic
    animals-rights agenda, they are literally letting a plague loose
    on the world.  Not only do the infected chimps attack
    the first human they get their hands on, but in a matter of
    seconds you can see that she has been infected too,  just
    from the look in her eyes.

        Ignorance, coupled with foolishly dangerous,
    misguided science has resulted in a situation far worse than
    a conspiracy-theory believer could dream up.

        The movie’s hero, Jim, had been hospitalized
    for injuries from a traffic accident.  He awakes to
    silence that feels deafening .  Silence so thick you
    could cut it with a knife.  Outside the
    hospital,  he can see the usual pigeons and gulls but
    otherwise the city is lifeless; all is still, unmoving.  No
    people to be seen anywhere.  Familiar sights,
    the Tower of London, the Houses of Parliament, but everywhere
    the same deathly silence.

    image

    A bizarre dream–London without people

         Jim is not normally a man of action.  For
    a long time he wanders, not sure how to react. 
    Ironically, the first living human he sees is a complete
    lunatic, a minister in his own church, a place you might
    well expect to serve as some sort of sanctuary.
      Jim pulls out of his apathy long enough to bash
    the minister with a bag full of metal cans.  This allows
    him to stay alive.

        After more wandering, a group of maniacs spot
    him.  Jim runs but you wonder how much further he can
    get.  At that moment he meets the first normal people he has
    seen, Selena and Mark.  They rescue Jim by setting the
    maniacs on fire.image

    Jim–One mistake can be fatal

          Jim can see that neither Selena nor Mark has
    been a soldier or police officer, but they have
    quickly learned how to survive in this new world. 
    Selena quickly tells Jim there has been a plague, but not to
    ask too many questions;   “Staying alive is as good as
    it gets.”  The rules she and Mark follow are simple:
    never go anywhere alone, and never go out at night, unless
    absolutely necessary.  You soon learn one more valuable
    rule—if anyone you know catches the disease, you kill
    them with no hesitation. 

        Selena and Mark go with Jim for a last visit to
    his house.  Because it’s too late to walk back to a
    safe place before dark, they sleep there till the next
    day.  While Jim watches videos of his dead mother
    and father, a man enters through a window.  Clearly
    infected.  Mark and Jim are soon covered with blood
    while they subdue him.  Suddenly Selena kills Mark.  She
    tells Jim she knew right away that Mark was infected, by the
    expression on his face.  She is quick to add,  “ I’d do
    the same to you.”image

    One bite is all it takes

         Eventually, Jim and Selena find two more
    survivors living in a high-rise building, Frank and
    his daughter Hannah.  Holed up in this apartment, they
    hear a radio message promising help and safety, at a location
    near the city of Manchester.  After some hesitating,
    they decide to drive there.

    image

    Exposed and vulnerable

         Even though each attack by an Infected (as
    Selena calls them) is gruesome and thick with
    spattered blood, you are shown one reminder after another of
    how life was, how precious.  A life you probably take
    for granted, waking up each day and telling yourself something to
    the effect of—Same shit, different day.

        Only after this holocaust can people see the
    small touches of happiness they once had.  Jim’s family
    in the video, his mum’s book of recipes.  The goldfish in
    Frank’s apartment, trying to survive in just a few inches of
    water.  Some beautifully shot scenes of horses running wild
    in the countryside outside Manchester.   Jim
    feeling the breeze through the car windows.  Selena and
    Hannah playing cards in the back seat.

        They find the city of Manchester burning, but
    also find the people who had been
    broadcasting salvation.    These people are
    army personnel and at first they seem decent enough.  Major
    West, the officer in charge, appears to have the trust of his
    soldiers.  He shows his practical side (keeping
    an Infected man chained, to see how long he will take to
    starve to death).  Also a touch of the
    philosopher: People were killing people before the
    plague hit, he says, and basically nothing has changed.

        But Major West is nowhere as sincere as he
    seems.  His radio message promised “salvation” but he is
    far from any cure for the virus.  He tries to justify the lie
    to Jim by saying he had no choice, that his men were on the
    brink of despair and suicide.  “I promised them women,” he
    explains.  “Women mean a future.”

        But for the soldiers, a future starting a new
    extended family is not a goal.  What they want are
    sex slaves, pure and simple.  They are ready to kill
    anyone standing in the way, whether it’s another soldier or
    Jim. 

        For the first time, everything depends on Jim.
    (Frank was accidentally infected, and shot dead by two of the
    soldiers.)  To save Selena and Hannah, he must outwit more
    than a half-dozen armed soldiers, none of them exactly filled
    with compassion.  Without spoiling the ending, I will say
    this:  The next time Selena sees Jim, she is shocked to
    find (almost too late) that he is not one of the
    Infected.

        I enjoyed this movie the first time I saw it
    and it appears to get better each time I see it again.  
    Selena and Jim’s parts are both written well and acted
    well.  (Naomie Harris is Selena; Cillian Murphy is
    Jim, both real good.)  Selena’s changes at many
    crucial moments from pure survival instinct back to
    a yearning to get close to people is touching.  Watch
    her face just after the wild horses have passed. She says to
    Jim, “I was wrong about saying: ‘staying alive is as good as it
    gets.’”

        You see the gradual changes in Jim.  At
    first he seems almost clueless, hoping he can avoid
    taking action,  not knowing how to take
    action.  You see a huge change in Jim when he realizes what
    the situation at the army camp really is.  Christopher
    Eccleston who has had plenty of experience playing men in
    pain  (Jude, A Price above Rubies, Let Him Have It) is all too believable as Major West . 

          Those in positions of authority turn out to
    be as desperate (probably more desperate) than those
    people who came to them for salvation.  The Major almost
    appears to be saying to Jim: giving these women to my
    soldiers is the best I can do, under the circumstances.

         I could go on and on about a number of
    other characters and actors, but I’ll leave it at this:
    No one strikes a false note in this movie.

         The screenwriting and the directing are also
    excellent, though there are so many tilted shots you feel
    at times like you’re back watching the
    Batman TV show of the 60’s.  The digital
    photography which worked so effectively in
    Saving Private Ryan works well here too. 
    And as horrible as the scenes with Infected attacking are, so
    many moments are just as effective in their still beauty. 
    Not many movies are able to make you jump out of your seat at
    one moment, then silence you with stillness at another.

  • DEAD SILENCE

        Dead Silence sets its aim
    high, especially for a recent movie.  The filmmakers clearly
    wanted to tell an original story, not something re-hashed from
    bits and pieces of other plots.  They wanted the characters
     to be more than obnoxious people having lame conversations
    and casual sex before dying. 
    Dead Silence also tried to blend a rather subtle,
    ghostly, haunted house atmosphere with a scattering of violence
    severe enough to give the movie an R rating, and an optional
    Unrated version.

        This is asking a lot—making a blend like
    that.  But Dead Silence achieves many of its
    goals. It wasn’t a big box-office hit, although it didn’t bomb
    either.  Still, this lack of success is saddening,
    considering how many uninspired sequels…and even Parts #3-4’s to
    various routine stuff are being made recently.

        What are some of the major goals that
    Dead Silence succeeds at?  Let’s go through
    some.  Story.  Characters.  The swings in
    atmosphere mentioned previously.  Then the acting. 
     Ryan Kwanten, the Australian actor playing the hero Jamie,
    never overdoes it.  Yet his love for his wife and his
    unwavering search to bring her killer to justice give him courage
    which shows in all his scenes.  In just a few minutes near
    the beginning of Dead Silence, you get a sense of
    two people (Jamie and wife Lisa) who have truly bonded. 

    image        

    Miles away, many years later, the curse still reaches Jamie
    and Lisa

         After her death, Jamie is willing to go
    straight into Hell for answers, whatever his journey may
    bring.  (A good example: the scene where the clown says to
    him, “Come closer…”)

         Jamie and his wife Lisa had found a dummy
    delivered to their apartment.  No return address. 
    Thinking nothing of it, Jamie goes downstairs for take-out
    food.  When he gets back, Lisa is dead.   And
    suddenly Jamie is convinced the dummy killed her.

        Dummies started showing up in movies at least
    as far back as Dead of Night (1945), possibly
    earlier than that.  Even Anthony Hopkins, more than 10 years
    before taking on Dr. Hannibal Lecter, made a movie with a dummy,
    Magic.  Fortunately,
    Dead Silence is not a slow build-up
    leading to a dummy gradually taking over someone’s mind, with one
    person after another telling that same character, “Oh… you’re just
    letting your imagination get the best of you…”

        Jamie returns to his home town, Raven’s Fair, a
    small, quiet, isolated place.  Years ago it was prosperous,
    now it is rundown for the most part.  He already has a good
    idea of what and who he is looking for.  As a kid, he and his
    friends had heard stories and scary rhymes about a lady named Mary
    Shaw.  Jamie believes there is a connection between her and
    the dummy that killed his wife. 

        Mary Shaw, a resident of Raven’s Fair, had
    disappeared years before, but she had been famous in the town for
    her dummies and dolls.

         For years now, Jamie had been out of
    touch with anyone in the town.  He never got along with his
    father, had no idea that his father had remarried. (Bob Gunton, so
    powerful in The Shawshank
    Redemption as the corrupt warden, is effective as
    the father.)  His new wife, much younger than Jamie’s dad,
    hardly mentions Jamie’s grief, and generally seems a little too
    friendly to him. 

        Mary Shaw’s memory still holds a power in this
    town, especially for the undertaker and his wife.  As
    frightened as the undertaker is, his wife is much worse—talking to
    herself, or to someone else only she can see… hiding from time to
    time in the crawlspace and basement.

       A New York City detective (Donnie Wahlberg) has
    followed Jamie to Raven’s Fair.  He doesn’t have enough
    evidence to arrest him yet but he is sure Jamie committed the
    murder.  He also doesn’t want Jamie to bury the dummy. 
    (Something  the undertaker’s

    wife tells Jamie he must do.)

    image

    Jamie–Lisa’s death makes him follow the clues, even if he
    must die to do it

         At last, the undertaker is willing to reveal
    what he knows about Mary Shaw.  His story is similar to what
    Jamie remembers hearing as a boy.  Mary lived alone with her
    dolls and dummies, and was a skilled ventriloquist.  
    Occasionally she did an act at a stately theater located on a
    lake. 

        But there is more.  The undertaker still
    has intense memories of the last show that Mary did.  He was
    a sensitive young boy then, very polite, very respectful. 

        But another boy at that show was the
    opposite—rude and disrespectful.  This boy criticized Mary’s
    skill (he yelled out he saw her lips move while she did her
    act).  Not long after, the same boy disappeared and was never
    seen again.  Then several others from Raven’s Fair
    disappeared too.  Shortly after,
    Mary  disappeared.   Later, you learn that
    it wasn’t the boy’s rudeness so much that angered Mary.  It
    was his suggesting that her dummy Billy wasn’t real.

         Some of the plotting seems a little
    far-fetched.  You generally didn’t see that much rudeness in
    small-town America at that time, except where people had big class
    differences.  Another thing; after all these disappearances
    in Raven’s Fair, wouldn’t the FBI or at least the state police be
    called in?

        But as unlikely as you would expect, two scenes
    here are the strongest in the movie.  First the undertaker’s
    memories of going down to his father’s workroom to get another
    look at the dead Mary (his father was also an undertaker). 
    Second, the old photos of Mary’s victims seated grotesquely next
    to each other, their mouths mutilated.

        The undertaker is afraid to help Jamie more
    than this.  Jamie goes to what is left of the theater where
    Mary did her last show, and to Mary’s home near-by.  Here he
    finds some of her sketchbooks, featuring designs for more
    realistic dummies (very creepy, although the pages look way too
    clean, considering  their age).  Jamie’s father also
    fills in some of the story from years ago.   The rude
    kid at the show was Michael Ashen,  Jamie’s great-uncle.
     Jamie’s family and their friends killed Mary Shaw.
      image

    Mary and one of her children    

    Plenty more plot twists and turns are still to come.  But
    perhaps the most frightening scene is only a brief suggestion;
    that Michael was not killed right away, but slowly turned into a
    doll by Mary.

         Again, it is sad that
    Dead Silence did not do better in theaters (I
    need to check out how the video has done).  Meanwhile, the
    same director’s Saw, a much cruder, less
    imaginative movie, has already been followed by one sequel after
    the next.  I found it original, but not much more than
    that.  I’m thinking I need to watch it again, and then figure
    out if I missed something.

  • DUST DEVIL

        Dust Devil comes
    from a long tradition of stories with basic plot elements in
    common.

       They share these things:  Modern,
    well-educated people find themselves up against something
    straight out of an ancient legend/ folk-tale/
    mythology.   These people must  overcome their
    disbelief,  then turn to traditional or ancient
    weapons.  Not contemporary science, which proves to be
    powerless.     

        They must look to someone who
    knows the old legends…or perhaps, to some native shaman, wise
    man or magician who is familiar with the magic tradition in the
    myth.   Only they know what to do next.

        Dracula, The Exorcist, Curse of
    the Demon, Poltergeist
    , and The Last Wave all have subplots
    similar to this.   Remember the
    intimidating medical tests Regan must suffer through, in
    The Exorcist none of them
    doing her any good.  Modern science has great
    powers… but not over everything.

        But this formula is no guarantee
    of success—think of The Sentinel (1977) and
    Blacula, and lots, lots more.

        You get the broad outline of the
    Dust Devil mythology in voice-over as the movie begins.

        “The desert wind was a man like
    us; then grew wings and flew like a bird.  He
    became a hunter, like a hawk, and took refuge in those far
    corners of the world where magic still lingers.  Having once
    been a man, he still suffers the passions of a man…”

         How real will this legend
    feel to you?  That depends on another question.  It
    depends on how well you can accept the Dust Devil in human
    form; a man sounding and looking something like a young Clint
    Eastwood (High Plains Drifter, Pale Rider for
    example), wearing a long coat decorated with human bones.

      He is photographed in a way that reminds you
    of Eastwood in Sergio Leone’s films and later, in Eastwood’s
    own.

        

    image

    Listening for signs of life in the desert    

    You see him first alongside a highway in a desert resembling the
    inferno–inside the nation of Namibia.  He is
    pressing his ear against the highway, which seems so
    empty that he is in no danger.   Soon a car
    driven by a lonely woman stops; she offers him a
    ride.  Then… not much later, the chance to stay at her
    house.  The gardens and house feel like a speck
    of color in an endless wasteland.  Soon they are in
    her bed.  The Dust Devil breaks her neck, killing her
    it seems, in mid-orgasm.

    image

    Lovemaking abruptly cut off by killing

         He stops long enough to light several candles
    in her bedroom.  Then he uses her blood to
    sketch ritualistic drawings on the walls.  He cuts off
    several of her fingers then carefully saves them. 

    image

    One of the drawings the stranger leaves

         Next, he finds a can of gasoline and sets fire
    to the house.  Much of it burns but definitely
    not all.

       The phone rings for Detective Ben
    Mukurob.  First he ignores it, thinking it is one of
    his sad,  frightening dreams.  He has had a lot of
    those dreams recently.  Except for a large dog sleeping
    close-by he appears painfully alone. 

       Soon after, Ben gets another call,
    describing the burned house.  Your first impression may be
    (as mine was) that he is too cynical to care.   But
    that impression is very wrong.  He takes his job most
    seriously.

        Meanwhile, in the neighboring
    country of South Africa, Wendie, a home-maker in her twenties
    is arguing with her husband, Mark.  She makes up her
    mind to leave him and drives away.

        At the dead woman’s house, Ben
    speaks to his supervisor.  The boss is sure that
    this is the work of terrorists. 

    image

       Ben–determined to bring in the killer

         Ben is equally sure it is not.  The political situation in Namibia and South Africa had changed
    recently, stabilizing in some ways.  Terrorists are less
    common now.

        Dust Devil does
    something uncommon:  voice-over is used to
    continue telling the unfolding plot.  As Wendie
    keeps her word about leaving, the narration continues:  “Out of the flatlands she came.  Into
    the drylands…He had been calling her…drawing her to Bethany…”

        Bethany, the Namibian town is
    indeed dying: no rain for seven years, its one major industry
    already shut down.  Wendie, in her car, and the Dust
    Devil in a train, have both picked Bethany as their
    next stop. 

        More narration: “He sifts the
    human storm for souls.  He can smell a town
    waiting to die.”  You feel that Wendie and
    Dust Devil inevitably will meet;  it is only a matter of
    time.

         At the same time Ben talks to the coroner
    about the victim’s remains.  Neck broken, the
    drawings on the walls sketched  in her blood, probably
    mixed with body fat, iron ore, and kaolin (clay).   The
    coroner, a white woman, tells Ben who is African, that the
    killing is tied in with witchcraft.  She recommends he
    speak to a sangoma, an expert on witchcraft rituals.

       Ben has an old friend Joe who is a
    sangoma.   But the detective has turned his back on
    magic and rituals.  He aims to be more like Sherlock
    Holmes, or one of the CSI team, staying with rational,
    purely scientific explanations.

        As if it was fated, Wendie and the
    Dust Devil cross paths.  Wendie gives the stranger
    a lift, and immediately you feel the mutual attraction. 
    They talk on and off; suddenly Wendie sees him on the road
    and realizes he is no longer in the car.  Hours later, alone
    in a motel room she takes a bath.  She makes a sudden
    decision to slit her wrists with a razor then abruptly changes
    her mind. 

    image

    Ready and waiting for Wendie

         The Dust Devil can sense her wish to die.  He waits in the motel bedroom.  Wendie knows he is
    out there.  Next morning, as she prepares to drive away,
    he is already sitting in the car. 

        Their attraction continues to
    grow.  They stop at another motel, dine in an outdoor café
    and dance to country and Western music played on
    loudspeakers.   In the motel room, they
    have sex. 

        But afterward, the Dust Devil
    talks–more than he ever has before.  “You don’t
    understand…This wind keeps blowing me on and on…You don’t
    know who I am…” 

        He showers and Wendie looks
    through his collection of snapshots.  They seem harmless
    enough. Then she finds severed fingers and knows she is in
    grave danger.  The Dust Devil tries to comfort her with
    the truth—“all these people wanted to die…I was only the midwife…”

        But Wendie no longer wishes to
    die.

         “You picked the wrong one
    this time, you bastard!” She drives off.

         Ben changes his mind; he
    talks to his old friend Joe despite his own doubts about
    magic.  Joe tells Ben that this is the work of a
    shape-shifter.  He adds, “You’ve got to stop
    thinking like a White man and start thinking like a
    man instead.”  He pleads with Ben to
    take a carved stick  with him, and keep it close. The
    stick has the power to bind the Dust Devil, to root him to the
    ground. 

        Ben, with his strong faith in
    science and logic, has trouble believing this.   “You’ve
    been watching too many drive-in movies,”  he says, but does let Joe give him the stick, before leaving for
    Bethany.

          Wendie wanders out
    into a seemingly endless desert, followed by the Dust Devil, Ben,
    and Mark. All but Mark catch up to each other in a ghost
    town, every building with floors covered ankle-high in sand. 

         Dust Devil
    deserves praise for originality in several  elements.   The music by Simon Boswell takes on
    many forms.  At times it feels reminiscent of
    Ennio Morricone’s work in Sergio Leone movies like The Good, the Bad and the Ugly and
    Once Upon a Time in the West.  Other times it is like a vocal chorus without words, as if
    the Earth itself is humming.  The photography is
    outstanding, showing the desert  barren, endless, devoid
    of color, a place where death is never far away and life is
    precious.  Check out the shot in the desert with the Dust
    Devil sitting absolutely still on a rock outcropping, and
    thirty feet higher up, vultures waiting calmly. 

        Zakes Mokae, so good in movies
    like A Dry White Season and
    The Serpent and the Rainbow, is excellent as
    the haunted Ben, and John Matshikiza equally good in the tricky
    role of Joe.  (He is also effective as the
    narrator.)  Robert Burke (Rescue Me, Munich)
    strikes most of the right notes as the Dust Devil.  To
    avoid leaving out anyone, the entire cast does the job.

        You may find still more influences
    that I missed out on, that have been borrowed by
    Dust Devil.

     Having said that, I still find this movie
    highly original and unusual.  I can’t recommend this one
    enough.

     

  • ONIBABA

       Japanese horror movies have become big box office in
    many countries now, including the USA and Europe.  Movies
    like The Ring have become household
    names.    Video stores stock the American-made
    English-language versions, and in many cases too, the Japanese
    originals.

       Onibaba is a much older movie
    (1964).  Some would argue that it really doesn’t belong in a
    book on horror films; that it is more of a war film or possibly an
    art film about the effects of war.

       In some ways those people would appear to be
    right.  It is not easy to find another movie in this book
    similar to Onibaba.  For example, it seems
    light-years away from The Ring.  Off the top
    of my head, I would probably say it is closest to
    Deliverance, shown from the crazed backwoods
    people’s point of view.  Onibaba, like
    Deliverance, shows people at their simplest and
    most savage.  It is not an optimistic outlook, to put it
    mildly.  The characters in Onibaba are in
    desperation.  The men have been forced far away, to fight a
    war that means nothing to them.  The old men, women and
    children left behind are finding it impossible to work their farms
    anymore. They are close to starving.  Already they have seen
    much bad weather. Strange omens of doom are signs of worse things
    to come. 

       Onibaba takes place in a remote part
    of Japan, in land covered in grass taller than any of its human
    characters.  At night, especially, the grass sways wildly in
    the intense wind.  The movie starts by introducing two of the
    main characters, the Woman, and the Young woman, who is married to
    the woman’s son, now gone to war.  You never learn their
    names.  For a long while, it has been just the two of them.
    They have done what they had to in order to stay alive; killing
    soldiers and selling their weapons and armor in exchange for
    food.  Killing has become as familiar to them as washing
    clothes, eating and going to the bathroom.  It is just
    something you do.  All their humanity appears to be gone.

    image

    Brutal times; the only way to stay alive

         Hachi, an old neighbor returns out of nowhere
    from the war.  He tells them that the man they have waited to
    hear about, son to one, husband to another, has died.  The
    man’s death was just one of a long series of horrors Hachi has
    seen.

          Almost right away, Hachi’s return
    creates a tense triangle between the three people, with each
    struggling for ultimate power.   All Hachi wants now is
    his old house, food to survive, to stay out of the war, and to be
    with the young woman.

          And that is enough to throw
    everything that existed out of balance.  The woman sees
    Hachi’s desire for her former daughter-in-law, and she is
    terrified.  Not because she cares about her, she is past
    caring for anyone.  But she absolutely needs her
    daughter-in-law, to help with the killings now that she cannot
    farm.  If Hachi takes her away, she feels that her life will
    be over. 

    image

     Hachi’s return; a rapidly growing competition

         When Hachi first returned, he described a war
    with sides that meant nothing to any of them.  But now Hachi
    has started a new war; only three people, but they cannot live
    side by side.  Someone has to win; someone has to lose. 
    At first the older woman seems to be the loser.  Strangely
    enough, it is sex that determines the battlefield.  Hachi and
    the younger woman are attracted to each other almost
    immediately.  When they start their affair, you can feel the
    heat; maybe it is their desperation, possibly more than that.

          For the older woman, intimidation
    is the only weapon left.  She tells the young woman stories
    about purgatory and a hell that sounds right out of Dante’s
    Inferno, with the most intense physical pain saved for those who
    indulge in extramarital sex.  The young woman is afraid but
    Hashi is not.  He tells her that he would risk hell to
    continue having sex with her.  And despite her talk you know
    that the older woman is tempted too by Hashi’s sensuality. 
    She tries unsuccessfully to seduce him, and not just to break up
    the affair.  She desires him too.

          Things change one night the old
    woman is alone.  A samurai appears, wearing a grotesque
    mask.  All he wants is to find his way out of the sea of tall
    grass.  The old woman refuses at first, then seems to be
    intimidated into helping him.   

          And here is where
    Onibaba finally starts to feel like a traditional
    horror movie.  The samurai talks about his mask, and how he
    needed it to protect his handsome face during combat.  The
    old woman has trouble believing him, the same way she has trouble
    believing anything positive anymore.  More and more, you feel
    the bitterness eating her up from the inside.  It’s no big
    surprise when she lures him into the same deep pit where she has
    thrown the bodies of the other men they have robbed.

         To get his armor and weapons, she needs to
    climb down to the bottom.  Piles of human skeletons cover the
    ground around his body.  Seeing them, wading through them,
    does not seem to bother the woman.  She talks to the dead
    samurai in a sarcastic way about his handsome face; she feels no
    sympathy.  He is just one of the many faceless samurai who
    dragged her son away to his death.   To her horror his
    face is not handsome beneath the mask but horribly scarred,
    possibly war wounds, there is no way to know.

          The samurai mask now becomes a
    weapon in the war between the three survivors.  The older
    woman puts it on, and uses it to play the role of a demon. 
    In this way, she hopes to keep the Young woman home and afraid to
    leave.  Each time the Young woman leaves for Hachi’s hut, she
    finds the demon waiting for her.  Knowing nothing about the
    dead samurai and fearful of hell, she does not suspect the other
    woman yet.

          But other forces (Black magic?
    Karma? The list is endless.) have been brought to life. 
    Whatever powers the mask may have, each of the three must now pay
    a price.  As you would expect you are left with a lot more
    questions than answers:  Why won’t the mask come off the
    woman’s face?  Is her pain while she wears the mask only
    physical pain or is she feeling her terrible loss of humanity at
    last?  Has the mask been cursed by the dead samurai?  As
    the old song goes…Nothing is revealed.

        Well, maybe a little.  The director, then
    in his 90’s when Onibaba was re-issued on DVD,
    did talk about some of his ideas in an interview included on it.

        For one, he hoped to show that sex was more
    than just basic animal need.  It was the one spiritual
    experience available to these people in their ravished land. 
    A brief scene of Hachi and the young woman running naked in a
    downpour shows this.  Its tone screams of freedom; it is so
    different from what has come before: the endless cycle of work,
    the voices with no expression.  The lust of the older woman
    too (which she spells out clearly to Hachi) is a need for love as
    well.  Only she cannot express this (a need for love,
    as well as the sex) until much later.  Her anger
    masks everything else about her.  Why wouldn’t she want to
    tear her inner mask of anger away, the way she longs to tear the
    real mask off her face?

    image

     A mask; and perhaps a look inside a soul

         But this is only one of many interpretations;
    people will find many other insights of their own, based on their
    own experience.  Onibaba may or may not
    scare you in the sense of making you jump out of your
    seat.   That is an individual thing.  But this is
    not all you can judge it by.  For a lot of people,
    Onibaba will stay with them a long time: 
    Outside forces stripping you of pieces of your life and people you
    once loved.  Realizing those forces mean nothing to you; That
    your losses have been for no reason you can  understand. The
    theme of losing your humanity in a savage world.  The
    additional pain when another person finally makes you realize the
    pain of that loss.

     The word “important” has a bad sound to a lot of people…like
    a teacher saying , “This should be important to you.”  Still,
    Onibaba is an important movie, much more than
    just a good story.  

  • HALLOWEEN

       A lot has been written and argued about
    Halloween.  It generated loads of
    controversyThe main reason for the
    controversy:  Halloween was soon followed by
    a huge number of “slasher” movies.  It’s hard to write
    about Halloween simply for itself, apart from
    what came after it.

    Three things cannot be disputed, though.   This movie
    was made cheaply. And it was extremely successful.   Third, Hollywood producers knew a good thing when they saw
    it. 

    Its cast was unknown then, except for Donald Pleasence, best known
    as an off-beat character actor in The Great Escape and Fantastic Voyage.

       Halloween’s sequels tried to explain
    the mysteries with characters and past relationships. 
    The original explained practically
    nothing.   I’m not sure if the filmmakers
    intended this, but these unanswered questions added to
    Halloween’s power.  Fear of the unknown can
    be devastating, and Halloween takes great
    advantage of our fears. 

       The movie begins in 1963.   All seems
    fairly conventional; a typical teen couple makes out in the
    girl’s empty house.   They walk upstairs, the room
    goes dark. 

        You realize that things are
    not normal, though.  You are watching these events
    through a third person’s eyes, a person wearing a mask.
     This unknown figure stops in the kitchen, and takes out a
    large knife.

       He/she stops a moment and watches the boy leave, then
    goes upstairs.

       A girl sits, brushing her hair, wearing only
    panties.  She only has time to say “Michael…!”
    before being stabbed to death.

       The masked figure goes downstairs.  The parents
    are just getting home.   “Michael?” they ask. 
    The mask comes off.  You see a boy, about six, blonde
    hair, angelic face, somewhat dazed, mystified expression…

        Fifteen years later, a different town. 
    Hard rain pours down as Dr. Loomis and a nurse drive the
    last stretch of road towards a hospital for the insane. 
    Loomis’ voice is entirely cold, clinical, “He hasn’t spoken a
    word in 15 years.”  You know who he is talking
    about.  In the downpour, figures wander aimlessly across
    hospital grounds.

       Suddenly a dark shape jumps onto the car roof, then
    throws both of them out of the car and drives away.  It
    is one of those totally unexpected moments that makes you jump out
    of your seat and wonder how it all happened so fast.

       This is your introduction to Michael Myers, more a
    force of nature than a human being.  Nothing,  no one,
    can stop him for long.  What is equally scary; he is beyond
    communicating with.  

       Loomis later describes Michael this way:

       “I first met Michael when the boy was six. 
    After eight years, I was convinced he was pure evil.  I
    spent the next seven years making sure he could never
    escape.”

        You know that Michael will return to his
    hometown for Halloween.  Not knowing
    why makes it even scarier.   You cannot
    figure out what he wants.   But you must expect the
    absolute worst.

       Meanwhile, his hometown of Haddonfield appears to
    have forgotten Michael.  Another Halloween; everyone
    pretty much knows the drill.  You’re introduced to Laurie
    Strode and her friends Annie and Lynda.  None is
    sketched out in detail.

       You feel you know Laurie well enough, though. 
    She is shy but has her feet planted firmly on
    the ground.   She has common sense, she is
    resourceful, loyal to her friends, and to the kids she babysits
    for. 

        She is more reserved than Annie and
    Lynda.   A major difference between them: Laurie has
    no boyfriend.  But Laurie is no 70’s hardcore
    feminist.  At times she reveals her loneliness, her wish to
    find a boy she cares about.

        Laurie is the focus of Michael’s return to
    town.  Why Laurie, the movie never explains.

        A lot of the criticism of
    Halloween revolved around the connection between
    active sex and being killed by Michael.   The
    promiscuous characters seemed the ones much likelier to die. 
    Strangely, Michael appears fixated on Laurie, someone who has
    never had an intimate relationship.

        You realize for sure that Michael is back when
    Laurie stops by the old Meyers house to drop off a set of keys
    there.  (Her father is a realtor who thinks he can finally
    sell this property again.) 

         You see someone’s point of view from
    inside the house.  A figure suddenly emerges from the right
    side of the screen—a sign of things to come.

       Meanwhile, Dr. Loomis is on his way, trying to warn
    the police about Michael.  The police don’t take him very
    seriously.  On the highway, Loomis finds an empty pickup
    truck, but in his hurry, misses the dead body of its driver,
    thrown into nearby bushes.

       For Annie and Lynda, Halloween is a chance to combine
    babysitting, sex with boyfriends, and socializing with
    friends.  Only Laurie is beginning to suspect that someone
    has other plans for them.

       In 1978, Carpenter’s direction appeared to over-use
    certain conventions… to the point of breaking cinematic
    rules.  Watching Halloween 30 years after
    its release, its camera work no longer seems so
    shocking.   Perhaps because many other directors adopted
    styles similar to Carpenter’s.  

      One example is to show someone in danger, such as Laurie,
    in a close “one shot,” then show another character suddenly appear
    next to her.  The first time this happens is 25 minutes into
    the movie.  It turns out to be Annie’s father, the town’s
    sheriff.  A harmless meeting.   Yet you still find
    yourself jumping; it comes only seconds after Laurie has seen the
    stranger facing her directly, then abruptly vanishing.image

    Laurie’s early glimpses of Michael–still an unknown to her
      

    Laurie gets to Tommy’s house to babysit; Annie is also sitting, at
    a house across the street.  Meanwhile, Michael stalks the
    peaceful streets in a mask, but is ignored; masks on Halloween are
    expected.

       Slowly the story tightens the circle around the four
    characters: Laurie, Tommy, Annie, and Lindsay, the girl Annie sits
    for.  Tommy’s dog goes outside, confronts Michael, squeals
    and dies.  Annie goes to use the washing machine and gets
    stuck in a doorway.  Lindsay goes to Tommy’s house so Annie
    can drive her boyfriend Paul over to the house.

       Through much of these events, the camera appears to
    taunt you, to play with your fears.  When Annie talks to Paul
    on the phone she moves continuously, left-right, right-left,
    forward-back, back-forward. The camera follows her but much
    of the time, Annie seems to be in “two-shots.”   In
    other words, she is framed so that there is room for another
    person; you expect another person (Michael)… yet there is
    no one.  Your adrenaline slowly but surely reaches unbearable
    levels.image

                     
                image 

    Laurie’s friends–expecting only the same old
    Halloween

         Annie tries to take out the car, finds it is
    locked, walks back for her keys.  When she returns, the doors
    are unlocked; she never notices the mist on the inside of
    the windows.  She gets in.  Immediately she is
    strangled, then stabbed. 

        I still remember my reaction the first time I
    saw Halloween.   It was the first time
    I can ever remember being relieved when a character was
    murdered.  At least you can breathe again, I
    thought   That’s how suspenseful the moments before had
    been.

       From here on, the action comes fast and
    furious.  But describing the events in sequence gives only a
    hint of the power you experience onscreen.  You’ve seen women
    before pursued by a maniac, and finally forced to fight
    back.  (One example is the under-rated
    Wait Until Dark.) 

       But Carpenter uses Michael (also called The Shape) in
    a new way.  You see him appear, seemingly out of the void, as
    he did inside the deserted house earlier.  Much later, Laurie
    tells the two young children, “There’s no Boogeyman.  I
    killed him.”

       Then without a sound, he is abruptly visible, holding
    the knife again, in the right side of the frame.  Has
    Carpenter over-used this device?  It doesn’t feel that
    way.  Somehow he has made it work, like the repeated use of
    one-shots to set us up for the kill, mixed with the two-shots with
    a character missing…until it is too late, and The Shape is at our
    throats.

       I remember seeing Halloween, by
    myself, in Flushing, New York, the Friday night it opened.  I
    had a girlfriend, but she didn’t like horror movies.  A group
    of about ten teenage girls sat near me, screaming their heads off
    for the last 30 minutes.  A man was seated just in front of
    them.  As the movie ended, he turned around, smiled at them,
    and said, “I gotta see if my ears still work.”

       Other box office smashes, such as
    Deliverance

    and The Exorcist were soon followed by many bad
    imitations.  It was the same story with
    Halloween, only worse.  A new series,
    Friday the 13th followed, and also
    made huge profits. 

       I don’t think Halloween had any
    message (for example, a girl having premarital sex will die
    violently, or deserves to die) or even any great social
    significance.  But its style affected  horror films in
    general; that feeling of the camera playing with you, almost
    taunting you in a mean way.  Once you had a chance, you could
    finally find some holes, some inconsistencies in the story.

      How could a child as psychotic, as evil as Michael have
    passed himself off as normal for six years?  Why wasn’t his
    sister more scared of him?  What did he see in Laurie that
    made him focus on her?  How did he learn to drive?

       Halloween’s raw power makes all
    these questions irrelevant.  It pounds you into a place where
    rational questions have no meaning.  I don’t think Carpenter
    has ever done anything equal to it yet.

  • NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD (1968)

        In the uncertain days of 1968 a
    new, low-budget independently-made zombie movie was
    released.  Reviewers (the few who bothered) mostly wrote it
    off as violent junk.  It was soon forgotten.

        But in a few years, people began
    hearing about a strange movie with cannibals/cannibal
    zombies.  The movie sounded like it went to places few others
    dared to go.  Especially at that time.   A little
    girl eats her mother. That’s one of the all-time
    cultural taboos, I remember my sister saying.
    Especially on campuses, this movie picked up momentum
    as a midnight feature.  Of course, it turned out to be that
    same 1968 movie.

         Night of the Living Dead deserved the
    acclaim.  It delivered the goods.  Although the actors
    were unknowns, they held their own.  The action sequences
    kept you squirming and jumping.  The plot, simple as it was,
    was highly absorbing.  And the idea of everyday, ordinary
    folks trying their best to break into your house and eat you (for
    reasons you barely understood) was about as disturbing as you
    could get.

        Forty or so years later, it’s
    easier to sit back and make sense of how this movie fit into the
    culture then.  A war was heating up that divided the country
    like none other before.  A president decided not to run
    again.  Recent diaries of Lyndon Johnson show a man who saw
    his country headed into quicksand (Vietnam), yet going straight
    into war because he simply didn’t know what else to
    do.  A new president was elected, largely for saying he had a
    secret plan to end the war.  (Actually he would keep the war
    going another four years, then announce a peace settlement the
    week before the next presidential election).

        Every summer starting with 1964
    had seen violence in the Afro-American sections of big
    cities.  Drugs, especially the psychedelics such as LSD, STP,
    mescaline and psilocybin were changing people’s lives.  The
    “changes” formed a spectrum from a beautiful new vision, as some
    described the psychedelics to, in other people’s minds the
    ultimate nightmare.  (How many people had heard the urban
    legend about the babysitter telling the baby’s mother:  “ …
    and the turkey is in the oven…” told as a true story?)

        That sense of the
    unknown swooping down on us was exactly what this movie
    delivered.  Being attacked and killed by a grizzly bear might
    make sense.  But a bland middle-American guy suddenly going
    berserk in a peaceful cemetery and killing your brother for no
    reason at all—nobody was ready for this.  Suddenly
    your world has changed, and you’re doing your best to take action
    you never dreamed was necessary.

        This is the situation Johnny and
    Barbara, an ordinary 20-something brother and sister from Western
    Pennsylvania find themselves in one late Sunday afternoon.
    Johnny is killed right away.   Barbara escapes into a
    country home, and waits for someone to save her.

     .image

     Johnny and Barbara–their world about to change
    forever

         But there’s no Steve McQueen, John Wayne, Sean
    Connery or any other 1968 heroes around here.  There’s the old lady of the house, already chewed up more than a
    bit.   And another lone survivor trying desperately to
    clear his head enough from the insanity in order to protect
    himself.]

    image

    The first of many zombies

         Ben, this other survivor uses all his
    common-sense and imagination to protect the house and the people
    who have run there for safety.  He’s got plenty
    to deal with; an army of zombies soon surround the house.  In
    moments they are doing all they can to break in.  Soon, Ben
    and Barbara find out that these zombies are actually eating the
    flesh of the people they kill.  And unlike the many Westerns
    that American audiences grew up on, there doesn’t seem to be any
    cavalry on the way to rescue them.  They are in this alone.

             image

     Iconic image for the 60’s; living dead surround the house, then move in for the
    kill

         No doubt the violence alone made this movie
    memorable in 1968.  But what made it more than
    just a crude, sensational shocker were some memorable
    characters.  Ben is clearly a courageous man, doing his best
    to deal with overwhelming events.  Tom and Judy, a likeable
    young couple, try hard to use their ingenuity and strength to
    figure out the right escape plan.

       Then there is Harry and his family.

       Harry is played by Karl Hardman.
    Hardman, like Russell Streiner (Johnny) was one of the principal
    filmmakers/movers behind this movie.  You may have thought
    Harry was a kind of sit-com character, grouchy on the outside, but
    warm on the inside when you got to know him.  He’s not.
    He is a selfish bully in an unhappy marriage who does not know how
    to change.  The movie may be black and white but this is not
    your standard primetime TV comedy.  His daughter has already
    been bitten by a zombie.  No one can figure out what medicine
    she needs; not that any is likely to be there anyway.

       Tom and Judy do their best to work with
    Ben to come up with an escape plan.  Harry is in it only for
    himself, and is only concerned for his family.  Helen,
    Harry’s wife, is left in the middle between them as they debate
    the possible ways of staying alive in the house.

       The story breaks away again and again
    from expectations for a Hollywood picture.  The escape plan
    figured out by Ben, Tom and Judy fails with gruesome
    results.  And it is nobody’s fault or nobody’s
    backstabbing that causes it to fail.  It fails because…as one
    writer put it, gasoline can spill and then get ignited when things
    don’t go exactly right.

        Also, Barbara never gets over the
    shock of seeing her bother Johnny die.  You keep expecting
    Ben to slap her or find another way to “snap her out of it,” but
    he is never able to do this.  Perhaps the filmmakers took the
    safe route in this; Ben is Afro-American, Barbara is white, and
    any close relationship between them was too much of a risk in
    1968.  But equally likely—someone like Barbara was simply
    not going to bounce back from all the horror going on
    around her.

       Even worse, Kyra, the bitten girl, dies,
    turns into a zombie and goes right after Helen and Harry.
    Both of them (with good reason) are too devastated to save
    themselves.   (Kyra Schon, the actress playing this
    girl, later had her own website, including a favorite tattoo of
    her in  zombie make-up and some kind words about Duane Jones,
    who played Ben.)

        Perhaps the least hopeful sign is
    when a crowd with guns finally shows up and destroys the army of
    zombies.  You learn that bullets can take them down but only
    with a head shot.  A TV reporter asks one of the men with
    guns about dealing with the zombies.  His answer (no irony
    intended):  “Yeah, they’re dead…they’re
    all messed-up.”  Not exactly reassuring.  The
    movie ends with a look at the zombies being burned.  The
    ugliness feels like it’s spilling right off the movie screen till
    it is all around us.

        Night of the Living
    Dead

    worked well as a straight-ahead action movie.  Although most of the actors had limited experience, they were
    convincing.   With a few exceptions, the dialogue worked
    well too.  According to director Romero, friends and
    neighbors of the filmmakers who played the zombies were given all
    the beer they wanted and making the movie turned out to be
    enjoyable.  They too were convincing—they certainly did
    not look Hollywood or even like wannabes of any
    kind.  Their ordinary looks worked in their favor.

        Like
    Psycho, The Exorcist, and in other ways,
    Deliverance, Night of the Living Dead had a
    strong resonance in the USA and many European countries at the
    time.  All of these movies changed the film-going experience
    in a big way.  You can get a general idea of these changes by
    comparing each of these movies to blockbusters at that time, then
    looking at those that came soon after.

        Things would never be the
    same.  Despite the low budget I consider this movie one of
    the 10 best of its kind.  I hope I can do it justice by
    pointing out some of its effects on those that came later.

    image

    Another iconic image–average American girl, turned cannibal
    zombie

  • SCARY STORIES TO TELL IN THE DARK

    Scary Stories is much more than a movie about naive but adventurous teenagers exploring a haunted house In their hometown. It re-creates an intense atmosphere of place and time; the Rust Belt, 1968.  Major changes coming, though just a few people in town notice them yet.  Some heavy emotional themes;  you watch them slowly revealed one by one.  

         Small-town people forced to change.  Sharp curves in the road ahead. Changes that will make it hard just staying on the road. Teenagers on the edge of a cliff.  Hardly suspecting they’d have to decide which way to turn. But hard decisions they need to make; real soon.  

         A presidential election (Nixon-Humphrey) that will slowly but surely end in sorrow.  A deserted house full of dirty secrets.  Kids barely out of childhood…poised on the edge of a cliff.      

         A warning though; most of the reviews I read (after writing this) were only slightly better than average.  People born after the baby-boomer generation did not seem affected by it with the same impact..  The movies’s second half throws in some (partly) unexplained creatures and drags a little.  

           But you get a sense of deep emotional changes in the narrator, Stella, and in her friends starting with a voice-over which the movie will deliver on;  “Stories can leave deep scars.  This I learned.”

         Whoever she learned from was dead right.  

         “The last autumn of my childhood, ” Stella goes on.  The movie shows you how that autumn changed her .

         Donovan on the radio; Season of the Witch. Its sinister, overpowering organ.  We would hear a similar organ theme a few years later; even more ominous, more threatening: Led Zeppelin,  Your Time is Gonna Come.  A tough, mean kid telling two friends he just enlisted in the military.  They get ready to go out and kick some ass.  After all it’s Halloween night.

         Stella alone in her bedroom. Its walls full of horror movie posters.  An aspiring writer, a good soul.  Her two best friends, Auggie and Chuck finally persuade her to hang out. Ramon, a stranger in town, alone in his car.  He watches her ride her bike.

         Auggie and Chuck have a longstanding grudge against the tough kids.  The hoods chase them into a drive-in. Night of the Living Dead.  One more indication of big changes to come in our country.  (Watch it now, then try to imagine watching it in1968). The tough kids chase them into the town’s only truly haunted house, the Bellows place.  But you’renot watching a Scooby-doo episode.

         Inside the house; no big surprises.  The one exception; a dusty old book that Stella finds and takes home.  Only a quick flash of the ugly reality still to emerge.

         Kids in the town start to die.  Stella and Ramon read stories in the book.  No mistaking the connection.  They try to burn the book; it won’t burn.  The book is a pandora’s box.  No magic word, amulets, silver bullets to use against it.  The law enforcement they once had faith in— only makes things worse.

    Scarecrow With Unexplained Powers

        Even baby boomers who survived the Vietnam war/student protests/Watergate/Nixon Impeachment era may not sense the symbolism the book reflects.  How we got here…and what the fuck do we do about it.

         Stella and her friends stare at the open book as it writes its own new stories and their town slowly begins to die.  Their search for answers takes them  into a corrupt, savage mental hospital then to a jail without mercy. Then back to the Bellows house.  As she feared she would, Stella finds a monster…one that their own family de-humanized.  Only one hope for a girl (not yet out of high school):  Face the monster. Explain. That the people who died so far were innocent, that they never hurt the monster.

     Ramon and Stella—searching for answers                                   

         Stella’s opening words. The town will never go back to what it was.  But some sense of hope may have survived, for those people able to find some compassion in their heart.  Watch this movie, then…watch it again.  I doubt that most of us will catch all of it the first time.  But I think some of us will open themselves to the experience Stella has to go through. 


    An Incarnation of the Daughter the Bellows Committed for Life?  A              Mystery Never Revealed 

  • THE BRIDES OF DRACULA

          After the great success of
    Horror of Dracula, Hammer studios wanted badly to
    make a sequel.

         However, Christopher Lee, so effective as the
    count in Horror, refused to star.  Lee was
    afraid of being typecast forever as Dracula.

       Hammer’s answer was to use a misleading title and
    then state in a prologue that Dracula is dead, but his many
    disciples live on.  Brides of Dracula is the
    story of one disciple, Baron Meinster.   You get a sense
    throughout this movie that Hammer did not want to change a
    successful formula.  They used the same director,
    Terence Fisher, writer Jimmy Sangster (along with two other
    screenwriters) and the other star of Horror,
    Peter Cushing, again playing  Dr. Van Helsing.

       What they got was the same intensity, possibly
    more.  The music tended to be melodramatic, over-the-top at
    times.  But it adds to the atmosphere.  And you feel a
    sizzling tension between the vampire, Baron Meinster, and his
    mother, who has kept him prisoner for years.

    In Brides, you feel right away that the
    countryside is a dangerous place, especially after sunset.

       Everywhere is mist, but it has a foul appearance to
    it, especially where it hangs over ponds and swamps.
     (In Horror of Dracula, Jonathan Harker
    notices the silence surrounding Dracula’s castle:  No
    birds sang.)

       Even at the inn, the atmosphere is tense.  The
    student-teacher, Marianne feels like an outsider the minute
    she enters.

       As thunder crashes, the tension increases with the
    arrival of a strange, severe-looking, aristocratic old woman
    dressed all in red and black.  She speaks one word to the old
    couple, “Wine.”  She is the Baroness Meinster, and
     immediately invites Marianne to share a drink, then to spend
    the night in her castle.  The landlord and his wife are
    clearly shaken and abruptly offer Marianne the chance to stay
    at the inn.  But Marianne has already accepted the baroness’
    hospitality.

       You first see the castle in a low-angle shot, showing
    it perched on a mountainsideInside, it
    is exquisitely decorated, suggesting a great family
    fortune.  Yet somehow Marianne still appears to be
    in danger.  Greta, the baroness’ one servant, gives off
    suspicious, controlling vibes; you get the impression that
    she will bully anyone who lets her.  For a moment, Marianne
    steps onto her balcony.  From there she can see a man
    standing outside in another wing of the castle.

       Instead of denying what Marianne saw, or trying to
    avoid it, the baroness speaks freely about the man, her
    son.  “My son is ill,” she says.   When Marianne
    asks if he is ill in his mind, the baroness does not deny
    it.  She says that he has caused her endless pain.  Once
    the castle was a place of grand parties and gatherings, but
    those days are long-gone, because of her son.  You can
    hear a mix of great sadness, regret, and bitterness in her
    words.  She has not seen him or spoken to him in years,
    she says; he is fully in Greta’s care.

       Marianne goes to sleep then wakes suddenly, her mind
    on the man she glimpsed before.  She finds her way to
    his room.  For a long time he does not step out of the
    shadows.  He asks Marianne to come closer, explaining
    that he cannot come to her.  It is then that Marianne sees he
    is held prisoner by a long silver chain.

       The baron says that his mother has kept him chained
    and told people that he is dead; that she is motivated to
    keep the fortune, land, and castle that would be his
    inheritance.  As Marianne does, you wonder now if the
    baroness is the insane one, the monster.  Marianne agrees to
    find the key to the chain.  As Marianne walks from the
    baroness’ room back to the baron, his mother seems to
    stalk Marianne, the lighting on the baroness’ face making her
    look truly evil.  But Marianne is able to throw the
    baron the key.

       As Marianne finds the baron, his mother condemns her,
    “You little fool, you don’t know what you’ve done.”

      The baron speaks with quiet assurance, “She can’t harm you
    now.”  Then,” Mother, come here.  Now mother, come
    along with me.”

       Like Marianne, you can only guess what happens
    next.   But you get a clear enough idea
      when Marianne speaks to Greta, now
    hysterical.  Greta tells her that the countess is dead.
    “He’s free, the cunning devil… She’s dead and he’s free.”image

    Baron Meinster (David Peel)  

    Marianne leaves. Greta, still hysterical, speaks a long while to
    the dead baroness.  She is able to sum up her twenty
    years with the family into a few minutes of monologue.

       Keep in mind this movie was made in 1960, with many
    limitations in effect on what movies could not show, not
    mention, only hint at.  I think any aspiring screenwriter
    could do a lot worse than to listen to Greta’s words, for the
    way they hint at family dysfunction, with so many
    suggestions, implications, so much between the
    lines.

       “Twenty years…You encouraged him.  You drank
    with him and his friends, laughed at their
    wicked games…brought women to him…”

        Critics have read many suggestions in these
    words:  Bisexuality, procuring victims after the
    baron became a vampire, just for starters.  But the more
    subtle suggestion: an incestuous relationship between mother
    and son (in all senses of the word).  Whatever the
    relationship was like once, it degenerated into hatred and a
    vicious struggle for power, stalemated for years until Marianne’s
    arrival.  The contempt the Baron feels for his mother is
    obvious in his voice.  Their years of separation have
    only made the situation uglier.

       Next morning, Marianne is found unconscious on the
    road by Dr. Van Helsing.  The story now takes a new
    turn: Van Helsing matching wits with Baron Meinster.  As in
    Horror of Dracula, Van Helsing is a man of
    great courage, knowledge, and dedication.  In absolute
    contrast, Baron Meinster is ruled by his passions.

       But you soon learn that he has an ally; Greta’s
    devotion to the Meinster’s is unchanged, even after the baron
    has turned his own mother into a vampire.

      After the baron kills a woman from the village, she is
    buried in the churchyard.  In a truly chilling scene,
    the undead woman struggles to get out of her coffin and through
    the soil above it.  Greta stands above her, and like a
    sinister midwife, urges her to push herself free.  Even Van
    Helsing’s eyes open wide.

       As in Horror, Van Helsing is
    dedicated (some would say, fanatically) to wiping out the plague
    of vampirism.  Though not a particularly pious man, he
    sees this struggle as one between absolute good and absolute
    evil.  He calls staking the dead village woman, “an act of
    healing.”  When he meets the baroness, now a vampire
    herself, she asks Van Helsing if he knows who she is. “I know who
    you were,” he tells her calmly.image

    Van Helsing–again, the only one to offer protection from
    the Undead

    She has become a tragic figure, telling Van Helsing she now must
    do all the wicked things her son tells her to do; there is no
    salvation for her.  Again, Van Helsing tells her salvation is
    still possible.image

    Marianne sees Meinster’s powers–former friend, now a
    vampire 

    In the end, Van Helsing must face the baron, along with Greta and
    two other vampires: the woman from the village, and Gina,
    another student-teacher at Marianne’s school.  Van Helsing
    shows true courage after Baron Meinster bites his neck,
    cauterizing the wound with a red-hot iron, then cooling it
    with Holy Water.

       At least one critic has called
    Brides of Dracula the best movie Hammer ever
    produced.  I couldn’t quite go that far, but the
    direction, acting, and especially the screenwriting are all
    excellent.  As big a Hammer fan as I am, I seldom
    remember much of their dialogue.

         Here, there are some memorable
    lines.   Marianne says good-night to the baroness,
    adding, “God bless you.”

        “If only He could,” the Baroness replies.

       David Peel, better known on-stage than in movies, is
    excellent in a demanding role, requiring (among other
    things): charm, vengefulness, pleading, gloating, bloodlust, pain,
    viciousness, even vulnerability.  Terence Fisher’s
    direction underlines Marianne’s struggle to find the truth behind
    the family’s masks.  Marianne is trusting, probably too much
    so, and her ability to judge from intuition is limited.
    Fisher shows you the anguish in her confused search to find the
    truth.

       It’s hard to believe now, but at the time, the
    director Fisher, and Hammer films were widely attacked for
    the violence they showed onscreen, the sexual innuendo they hinted
    at.  Years later, Fisher, and screenwriter Jimmy
    Sangster’s work was put into clearer perspective, and many critics
    began to praise them.

        Both Sangster and Fisher wanted to show just
    how corrupt and foul vampirism was.  Here, the evils
    of vampirism are often overshadowed by the festering illness
    of the the Meinster family.  In Brides,
    you get the feeling this illness must be disinfected, or cut out
    like a cancer. image

    Baron Meinster’s disciples   

    Fisher made a point of showing what that surgery was like, without
    much subtlety.  He believed that suggestion
    cannot show this visceral ripping, this tearing
    out.  Long before TV had ER, Fisher
    and Sangster showed you the operating room, up close and
    personal.  Ultimately this is what Van Helsing meant
    when he tells the dead girl’s ( bitten by the Baron) father that
    unearthing her body and staking her will be “an act of
    healing.”

  • THE HILLS HAVE EYES

         After
    Night of the Living Dead began to make big money,
    many low-budget filmmakers tried a
    similar approach.   Small cast, few special effects
    or none, and a tight story.  But most are bad rip-offs of
    Night, or of another movie about that time,
    Deliverance.

        Deliverance asked disturbing
    questions.  Basically this: You and your middle-class
    friends/ family are alone in the wilderness when you run into
    a savage clan of strangers doing their best to kill you.
    You’re too far away to get help from
    anyone.  How much violence will you take on to stay
    alive?

        This movie is one of the exceptions among those
    inspired by Deliverance and Night.   One of the real good ones.  (Another is
    the hard-to-find Canadian movie Rituals starring
    Hal Holbrook.)

        The Hills wastes no time
    getting started.  The Carter’s, the typical American
    middle-class family in The Hills Have Eyes
    must make these life and death decisions—real fast.

       An accident has left them stranded in the middle of
    the desert;   too far away to get help on their
    CB radio.  The family seems in danger from the
    beginning—the rocks and mountains look bleak
    and threatening.  You can believe that
    anything could live up there.  Stuck on this dirt
    road (after swerving to avoid a rabbit) the Carter family
    seems to be exposed and vulnerable.  Not a place where you
    want to be stuck for the night.

       Little do they know that a cannibalistic family is
    about to close in on them.  This family, with names
    like Jupiter, Pluto, Mars, and Mercury, actually kills and
    eats one of the Carters’ dogs (named Beauty) and captures
    their one grandchild for their next meal. image

     Pluto (Michael Berryman)

    In a night and day, the Carters’ will lose three family members to
    the cannibal clan.  Now it is their turn to
    fight…and they’re soon prepared and ready.  Just one example;
    Doug tells the surviving dog, Beast, do your job–
    kill these people.  And the Beast is ready to give
    it his best shot.

       But it’s not only The Beast who is forced into
    action.  The two youngest Carter family members,
    Bobby and Brenda must use their wits to survive.  Not
    only that, they are forced to kill at close range with an axe
    after their booby trap fails to complete the job.

      Was Wes Craven trying to do more than to create a low
    budget action/horror movie?  Without question, the movie
    works real well on that basic level.   You just watch
    and enjoy it for its plot and characters.  I don’t know
    if he had something more to say, on a symbolic level, or if he
    was just looking to create a gripping story.

         Critics have suggested the idea that the
    families reflect or mirror each other.  Each does have
    a father, mother and four “children.”  (The Carter’s
    have two daughters, a son, plus a son in law; the cannibals
    have three sons, Mars, Pluto, Mercury, and a daughter, Ruby.)

       Ruby is the one member of the cannibal clan who wants
    a different life.  She will go to the point of killing a
    family member to get free.   And she returns Doug’s baby
    to him.  Otherwise there is nothing good about her
    family…or at least none that the movie shows you.  And yes,
    the Carter family does get caught up in the violence and
    becomes part of it.

         But the screenplay and direction never
    show you anything to suggest the Carter’s are
    bad people, (except for some racist comments by the
    father) or that (apart from Ruby) the cannibals

    are good people.  It is more like a documentary
    showing a family of buffalo (or some other basically peaceful
    animal) fighting back to protect their young against some
    predator.

      No doubt, this could have been a better movie with more
    sympathy for the cannibals and less for the Carter’s.
    But I don’t think this was what Craven had in mind.  More on
    that later.

        The movie Deliverance was one
    of the first to dump one more question in your lap before
    walking away with no answer.  That question is
    this:  Can you go into the wilderness and
    kill people and then return to your old,
    middle-class life?

        At the end of the excellent novel
    Deliverance, you get a little of the hero’s
    long-term reflections about what he was forced to do, years
    back.  The movie simply ends, with no flash-forward.
    The Hills Have Eyes also
    stops short after the violence is done; you are left wondering
    what will happen to the survivors.

        Maybe Craven’s point (if he has a point) is
    that the answer is yes.  If you can deal with what
    you did, and convince yourself there was no other
    way, then you can return to your old life.

      But you will be a changed person.

      We hear the story of the Vietnam vet who says, even at
    a birthday party where a dad hugs his kid and helps them open
    presents; the vet can still see a man who is capable of random
    killing, maybe torture, in the jungle.

        The vet has been there with people, and seen
    what they can become under the right

    conditions.  Especially when it comes to protecting our
    families, almost all of us are capable of this kind of
    violence.  But we pray that we’ll never be in a situation
    where we have to make that choice.  The Hills Have Eyes is at its center, about bonds
    between family members.   With both of the
    older generation in the family killed off, then their oldest
    daughter, it is left up to Doug to save his
    newborn daughter.  As much as you have gotten to know
    him, Doug is a quiet guy, and not particularly macho.  But
    with his daughter’s life on the line, he is ready to turn to
    violence.

        When I first saw this movie, I thought it made
    kind of a positive statement about the typical American
    family.  How they stick together in a crisis.  If they
    (the Carter’s) had any other choices, I sure couldn’t see
    any.

        Like so many Vietnam veterans were forced to
    do, these survivors will try to put their lives back together
    again.  (Craven had once been a war correspondent in Vietnam,
    and more than likely the experience stayed in his
    subconscious.)   To me, the movie has done its job when
    you sit there at the end, overwhelmed.   Simply
    not ready to give the future any thought.  That’s
    for another day.

    ·                        *
    *
    *
    *
    *
    *
    *
    *

        I had a lot of fears about being objective in
    reviewing the re-make of The Hills.  First,
    because people have a special feeling about a movie they saw
    before any of their friends, family and co-workers—you tend
    to over-rate it a little.  It feels like your
    baby.  Because you get the privilege of turning people
    on to it.

       That was my experience with the original.  I
    remember not finding a VHS or DVD tape of it for years, then
    finally spotting one and telling my son, “You’ve got to
    see this.”

            When I saw that the remake was
    produced by 20th Century Fox I got worried too; Bigger
    does not always equal better.

        But the remake is exceptionally true to the
    spirit of the original.  Not that the story and characters
    are exactly the same; they are not.  What I am happy to
    say though; none of the changes are false steps, just about
    every one works.

        Set in New Mexico, the remake focuses more than
    the original on the atomic bomb legacy of the 1950’s. The
    monsters here originated from the generation of miners who were
    ordered to evacuate the area , but refused to leave when
    atomic bombs were tested.  They survived the radioactive
    fall-out but paid a heavy price.  Each was deformed
    physically; most became cannibalistic maniacs.

    WORK IN PROGRESS

  • THE NIGHT STALKER

                  
    A made–for-TV movie on a top-100 horror
    list.  Hard to believe, for sure. 
    The Night Stalker is peculiar in some other ways
    too.  At times it is more of a newspaper movie than a horror
    movie.   Or an expose story about a police cover-up,
    that happens to have a vampire in it. 

           But still it more than holds its own as
    a horror movie.  Even though, made for TV in the early 70’s,
    it could only show a limited amount of violence. (Remember, this
    is years before CSI or
    Law and Order SVU, let alone
    Criminal Minds.)  An excellent screenplay by
    the veteran writer Richard Matheson (The Incredible
    Shrinking Man, The Devil’s Bride, to name just a
    few) is one key.  When the suspense starts to come, you get
    some truly creepy atmosphere.  This is a credit to the
    director, John Llewellyn Moxey who had previously directed a movie
    in England with even more of a sinister atmosphere,
    Horror Hotel

         Horror Hotel was set in
    present times, but in a lonely little town, looking like it had
    barely changed in years.   The filmmakers realized they
    needed to use a radically different approach for
    The Night Stalker.  Here, the setting is Las
    Vegas, with no fog and few lonely places.  It is bright
    lights, 24 hours a day.  Nothing Gothic about it.  More
    people working night shifts than day shifts.  Everything
    about it screaming–Modern.

         But when the reporter Carl Kolchak (Darren
    McGavin) learns about a possible serial killer, evidence
    definitely points to a maniac who thinks he is a vampire. 
    Victims drained of their blood.  Killed only during the
    night.  Soon afterward, a hospital is robbed of its blood
    supply.  Kolchak, an intelligent, intuitive man, immediately
    senses a connection. 

    You may find it hard to take a reporter as the main character in a
    horror movie, especially someone as full of himself as Kolchak
    is.  He is arrogant, believing himself to be the most
    insightful guy around.  And he is never shy about letting
    people know this.  His mouth and his attitude have caused him
    to lose one job after another.  But he has not changed.

         Yet at the same time, he follows the courage
    of his convictions.  In addition, he gains some sympathy due
    to this; He is forced to deal with law enforcement officials who
    are at least as egotistical as Kolchak is.  And more
    selfish.  They think like politicians, obsessed with making
    themselves look good, whatever the cost.   If other
    people have to get hurt in the process; too bad.  That’s the
    way it goes.  Kolchak is the last guy they want around,
    someone who is not only in your face, but steps ahead of them.

    image

    Carl Kolchak–his ego is infuriating to people in
    power

         Kolchak’s lady friend Gail finds him a book on
    vampire lore, and he educates himself real fast.   What
    Kolchak finds out about a vampire’s powers is not so different
    from what the heroes in Bram Stoker’s novel
    Dracula find.  Kolchak learns the necessary
    weapons: a crucifix, a wooden stake and a large
    mallet/hammer.  Stoker’s book mentions the vampire’s
    sensitivity to daylight.   It emphasizes too something
    that few or none of the Dracula movies had
    mentioned—a vampire’s physical strength at night.  Already
    you have seen the killer taking on a guard dog, a Doberman, and
    killing it with his hands, with barely a struggle.

    image

    A crowd of police is unable to stop the killer

         Kolchak’s intelligence lets him match the law
    enforcement people step-for-step, and later gets him a few steps
    ahead.  The police are stuck at a point Kolchak already got
    past; they think their suspect is insane, with vampire
    delusions.  Kolchak has seen enough to believe their man
    truly is a vampire.  He has already gotten a good
    look at this man, identified as Janos Skorzeny, said to be over 70
    years old.  Yet Skorzeny has fought off several police
    officers and survived nightstick blows to his head.  He has
    also survived numerous gunshots, not just from handguns but from a
    shotgun as well.  Unless every shot missed him, very
    unlikely.

    image

    Gail believes in Kolchak and has the instincts to point him
    in the right direction

         Your perception of Kolchak changes once he
    decides to go into Skorzeny’s house alone.  Not every
    smart-ass narrator would have the nerve for this.  The scenes
    inside the house don’t grip you as hard as for example, similar
    scenes in Silence of the Lambs or the original
    Psycho.   Some, but not a lot of music
    is heard.  There is little use of editing for shock. 
    Instead of Skorzeny suddenly jumping out and grabbing Kolchak, the
    movie simply shows him pulling into the driveway.

              Yet these scenes still carry
    their share of tension.  You already know what Skorzeny is
    capable of doing, in scenes at the blood bank and in the backyard
    and pool.  And Kolchak is not experienced in
    dealing with vampires—he’s no Buffy.   

         In addition, Barry Atwater, who plays
    Skorzeny, creates a sinister, powerful presence.  An actor
     vaguely familiar from guest shots on a wide variety of TV
    series and three years on one soap opera, Atwater is up to seizing
    his big opportunity.  And without saying a single word. 
    His expressions, his  intense hisses and sighs make up for
    the missing dialogue. 

    image

    Barry Atwater as Janos Skorzeny

    As unlikely as it sounds, The Night Stalker may
    have influenced Silence of the Lambs.  One
    small, brutal detail, the vampire keeping a woman captive, tied to
    a bed, hooked up to a blood bag.  Her face pale as a ghost,
    she is barely alive, her mouth sealed closed with adhesive
    tape.  Like Catherine, the Senator’s daughter in
    Silence, she is on schedule to die.  But not
    until she has served her purpose, for a killer who has no concept
    whatever of her as an individual.  Kolchak wants to save her
    but knows he must deal with Skorzeny first.  You feel for her
    and for Kolchak too, in this insane house.  You hope he is
    ready to deal with all he has gotten himself into, much the same
    as you feel for Jodie Foster, trapped in the pitch-black of
    Buffalo Bill’s basement.

         One more unique feature in regards to
    The Night Stalker.  It was the inspiration
    for a brief TV series, also starring Darren McGavin.

  • THE REVENGE OF FRANKENSTEIN

         The Revenge of Frankenstein
    was the second of seven movies that Hammer Studios
    produced featuring Baron Frankenstein and his many
    creations.  Six of them starred the remarkable Peter Cushing
    as the baron.  The baron turned out to be one of the most
    memorable characters not only in Hammer history but in movie
    history.  Revenge shows you many of his
    multiple facets, his contradictions as a human.

       The Curse of Frankenstein, the first
    of the series, was a major money-maker in Britain, the USA, and
    in several other countries.  The money it earned gave
    Hammer a great deal of freedom to explore their vision. 
    This was especially true for one director, Terence Fisher,
    previously unknown except in Britain. 

       In general, Curse got terrible
    reviews from movie critics, who were horrified, scornful,
    contemptuous.  Looking back, this is no big surprise. 
    Horror movies, like rock and roll and comic books, were
    treated like an embarrassment by the mainstream; as if they
    deserved no place in culture.  Probably the
    most appropriate word for their status would be
    “marginalized.”

       Remember too, that in 1956 people were a lot more
    frightened by other things.  Atomic bombs had been
    dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki just 11 years before.  Not
    only the USA but the Soviet Union too, now had nuclear
    capability.  Movies like
    The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms and
    Them!  had a strong emotional pull on
    audiences frightened about bombs being tested, possibly used in
    war.  A wave of “giant” movies followed: giant wasps,
    grasshoppers, a praying mantis, spiders, a scorpion, a Gila
    monster, even crabs and lots lots more.  Never had
    Frankenstein or Dracula seemed so irrelevant.

       But Hammer had the insight to realize that they had
    something worth sticking with, in the character of Baron
    Frankenstein.  His contradictions kept you from judging him
    guilty—just when you were sure he had committed the
    unforgivable, he had the capability to make you change your
    mind…or at least reserve your judgment.  You never
    doubted his superior intelligence or his skills as a doctor. 
    Often you admired his lack of pretense, his no-bullshit
    attitude that few characters around him shared.

       Yet none of that could blind you to his arrogance,
    his self-centered motives.  He was more than willing to
    use people, then throw them away with no regret.  He viewed
    his personal success as more important than the lives of the
    unenlightened.  And for the baron, “the unenlightened “was
    a group that included practically everyone.

       The Curse of Frankenstein ends with
    the baron checkmated, condemned to death for the killing
    his monster did.  Revenge picks up the
    story soon afterward, with him awaiting execution.  But you
    notice a new character along with the priest and the
    executioner.  A man with a paralyzed, contorted arm
    and leg but something in his expression revealing native
    intelligence and calm under stress.  This is Karl, a man
    the Baron has gotten to know well in prison.  Karl’s eyes
    meet those of the executioner; you hear sounds of a
    struggle.  Soon afterward, you find the baron healthy and
    free.

       Months later, the baron, now calling himself Dr.
    Stein has re-invented himself, far better than anyone could
    have imagined.  Not only has he become the most respected
    (and best-paid) doctor in his town, he has established a
    clinic for the poor which allows him to cover a multitude of
    sins.  The charity work makes him a teflon man; it is
    impossible to criticize a humanitarian like Stein.  Other
    doctors in town are jealous of his money and reputation, but
    have no way to bring him down.

       The truth is far more ambiguous.  Though Dr.
    Stein is dedicated to his moneyless patients, these
    same patients serve as organ banks for the new creation he
    intends to show the world.  He dreams of the glory that
    awaits him for his achievement.  But he is obsessed too, with
    all who have condemned him in the past.  Almost as
    important as the admiration of fellow scientists is the fantasy of
    shoving his creation in the faces of everyone who have ever
    called him arrogant, crazy, or blasphemous.  “I will
    have my revenge,” he predicts.

       Karl has dreams too.  For long stretches of
    Revenge, they overshadow Dr. Stein’s plans and
    schemes.  Karl is someone you relate to—you feel for him
    a lot.

         Not that the idea of putting someone’s
    brain in a new body was anything original.  This theme
    was used several times in the Universal
    Frankenstein series of the 30’s and 40’s. 
    But I cannot recall any scene from Universal with the power
    of this one in Revenge: the contorted Karl looks
    upward, longingly, at the body he dreams of inhabiting. It’s
    not a long scene, but you find it sticks in your
    consciousness. 

    image

    The body Karl dreams of inhabiting

         Anyone who has ever felt a dislike or hatred
    about the way they look can understand what is in
    Karl’s heart.  You find this theme in
    The Glass Menagerie, Cyrano de Bergerac, Mask, the Ray Bradbury short story The Dwarf, even the Springsteen song
    Dancing in the Dark (“I wanna change my clothes,
    my hair, my face.”) and countless others.

       To Stein, his plan seems simple enough: remove Karl’s
    brain, place it into the new body he has constructed, wait
    for Karl to recover from surgery, and receive his due credit from
    the world’s scientific community.  But outside forces
    will take this quest in a different, horrible direction.  It
    is as if the world means to stop him cold.  As brilliant
    as Stein is, he is helpless to control all the variables
    in his complicated world.

       Margaret, a beautiful woman of much wealth, insists
    on volunteering at Stein’s clinic.  Stein, afraid
    of alienating her powerful father, allows her to do this,
    within his limits. 

       But Margaret’s presence sets off a deadly
    chain-reaction.  A sneaky, manipulating servant at the
    clinic (Richard Wordsworth, so powerful in
    Curse of the Werewolf) tries to impress
    her.  He tells her Stein is doing surgery in secret on
    clinic patients, and shows Karl to her, in his new body.  To
    complicate things more:  Stein’s assistant, Dr. Kleve,
    talks to Karl about how famous he (Karl) will be as a result of
    Stein’s scientific triumph.

       Karl had met Margaret once before, in the days when
    he thought of himself a cripple and nothing more. Immediately
    he felt a strong infatuation.  Now, the chance he has for a
    real relationship blinds him to every other
    possibility.  He is genuinely afraid that Stein will use him,
    like a personal trophy, in the victory celebration for his
    achievements.  A basically shy man, Karl has no desire to
    show off his new body (“I’ve been stared at all my
    life.“)

    image

    Karl–His surgery goes according to plan–but complications he
    never planned on

         Without much advance warning, Stein finds
    everything he worked for slipping away.  You feel
    his disappointment, then your own guilt for feeling that
    disappointment.  But the real loser is Karl, who
    kept his end of the bargain (saving Frankenstein/Stein from
    the executioner) and finds that his new body fails him
    painfully. 

    image

    The aristocrats’ world abruptly stunned; Karl’s plea for help
    exposes Frankenstein

       

         It’s not a surprise that the Baron’s failures
    make him more bitter as he ages. 
    Frankenstein Must be Destroyed and
    Frankenstein and the Monster From Hell show him
    as meaner, less caring, even more of a user.  But part of us
    somehow continues to root for him.  At least one critic has
    written about the scene in Psycho where
    Norman waits desperately for Marian’s car to sink into the
    swamp.  Suddenly there we are, like Norman hoping that
    it sinks too.  At its best, Hammer’s
    Frankenstein series has a similar effect.

  • WENDIGO

    CAUTION–SPOILERS NEAR END

         Like so many movies I wrote about,
    Wendigo sets its sights high.   It
    refuses to follow commercial formulas.  Not that it
    succeeds at everything it tries to do.  Many of its special
    effects are unconvincing.  The story may seem confused,
    or too ambiguous. Others will find it pretentious.

         What does Wendigo hope to
    accomplish, that makes it stand out? 

          It shows us a frightening series of
    events, coming hard and fast.   You feel their effects
    on an upper middle-class Manhattan family, especially their
    young child.  This young boy, Miles is too bright,
    too imaginative not to try to put these devastating
    events into perspective.  It is a chilling process to
    watch Miles do this.

       As Wendigo begins, Miles is sitting
    alone, in the back of a large, well-furnished car on a
    dark country road.  He is absorbed in some private game;
    in one hand he holds a plastic model of a wolfman slightly
    resembling the character from the 1940’s movies.  In the
    other hand, a figure resembling a “transformer.”

       George and Kim, Miles’ father and mother, talk
    quietly in the front seat.  Upscale Manhattan talk,
    high-power careers.

       Then in a second, everything changes.  The car
    slams into a male deer.  The deer propelled over
    the roof, leaving a trail of blood across the windshield. 
    Then it is lying by the side of the road, motionless but not
    dead.  The car is trapped in snow and mud.  Three local
    hunters approach the car.  All carrying high-power
    rifles.  Two have that “same shit, different day” look on
    their faces.  The third has a look of quiet fury—a
    walking time bomb.

       George is able to keep it together.  “You mind
    putting that thing down?” he asks calmly.  But you see
    Miles’ face, literally twitching as he takes this in.  It’s
    not as if his family ignores him; when one hunter shoots the
    buck, Kim gets out of the car and screams at him for using the gun
    in front of Miles.

       The family has a long wait for a tow truck.  The
    hunters, not asked to stay, remain at the scene. 
    The angry one, Otis, suddenly walks over to the car and tells
    George he busted one of the buck’s antlers.

       Finally the tow comes.  The driver knows the
    hunters, and they convince him to let them pull the
    car free. 

        George refuses to pay them, saying, no one
    asked for your help.  Kim gives them money; Otis thanks
    her sarcastically.

       Your first impression:  things could have worked
    out much worse.  Like in
    Deliverance. 

       But keep in mind, Miles is a young child who’s never
    heard of Deliverance.  He’s just
    seen an innocent creature killed, his car stuck in the middle
    of the wilderness, and his parents confronted by men
    with guns.  Not exactly
    The Velveteen Rabbit.

       At first, the house where they’re spending the
    weekend looks safe and comfortable.  Miles never sees
    the bullet holes in the windows and wall, but George notices.
     And without a doubt, Miles picks up on his father’s
    anxiety.

          Miles draws pictures of what he
    remembers. The buck. All the blood. Unable to sleep, he looks
    through the illustrations in his book of Native American
    History.  The (appropriate and realistic) violence in
    the pictures means more to Miles than ever before.  He falls
    asleep but dreams of Otis coming in the room and shooting
    him.

    image

    Miles’ drawing–so much fear he needs to let out

         The next morning is sunny and bright. 
    They drive to town; the landscape is stark, but not grim.
    In fact, beautiful at times.  Kim and Miles stop at a
    thrift shop.  From Miles’ point of view, many
    close-ups of antique toys and illustrations.  Frontier
    violence. Men tough as nails and animals
    larger-than-life.  No doubt Miles is still trying to make
    sense of last night.

       He stares at a wood carving in one case.  A
    strange but gentle Native American man describes the figure
    to Miles.  The Wendigo,  a truly powerful spirit,
    capable of taking on many forms.  “It can fly at you
    like a sudden storm…without warning.”

        “Always hungry, its hunger is never
    satisfied.  The more it eats the bigger it gets, the bigger
    it gets the hungrier it gets.”

    image

    The figure Miles finds   

         Miles is more intrigued than
    frightened.   He appears to view the legends as another
    form of super-hero story.   He has frames of reference
    for those.

        But the buck’s violent death is different for
    him.  Back in the car, he is recalling the
    Native American’s words, “there are spirits that are angry”
    as they drive by Otis’ house and see the buck hanging on a
    rack.  Miles imagines the buck’s angry spirit and is
    terrified.  He may well feel responsible; he was riding
    in the car that hit it.

    image

    Otis–not satisfied till he gets vengeance

         You see a dramatic change in Miles when George
    takes him sledding.  The father does most of the talking
    as they walk up a long hill. He recites a little bit of Robert
    Frost’s poetry, exactly right for this snowy day.  Miles
    asks his dad if he’s heard of the Wendigo.   George
    answers in a reassuring way: probably it only eats the bad
    guys, not good kids like you.  He speaks a little about
    people’s need for mythology.    Telling his
    son: don’t disbelieve it, but don’t view it literally.

          These moments represent a
    near-perfect father and son bonding.  The father points the
    way for the son growing up and viewing the world.  He
    doesn’t tell him, look at it my way, but gently
    introduces him to his perspectives.  Miles is more than
    willing to listen; not a clone of his father, but able to
    integrate his viewpoints.

       Only seconds after they start downhill, George falls
    backward off the sled and lies motionless.  Miles
    is afraid his father is dead.  The wind picks up
    suddenly; the snow blows in circles.  Miles abruptly
    is frightened and runs.

       Hours later, Kim finds Miles asleep in the snow, in
    shock.  They search for George; he seems to have walked
    away.  After a long search they finally find him near the
    house.  Although he is conscious and talking, they can
    see he has lost a lot of blood.

       Kim sends Miles inside to bring out a blanket; Miles
    does it, stopping to pick up the wooden figure. 
    Standing next to his bleeding dad, Miles momentarily sees
    something—perhaps the real Wendigo, two or three
    times as tall as George, made up entirely of bare, dead
    branches.  He recalls the words, “It can fly at you…and
    devour you…”

       As they drive to the hospital, George is in a
    delirious state and talks a lot.  You imagine Miles’
    struggle, processing all of it, on top of knowing that his
    father was shot.  George asks him about the
    wooden figure, tells him, “See?  I was listening to
    you…Give me your hand, Miles.”

       In the car and waiting in the hospital corridor,
    Miles hears a much-condensed tale of life and death from his
    dad.  Not that Miles is anywhere near ready for his
    initiation, but it is forced on him,  like it or
    not.  Every word deeply powerful in its own way. 
     “Miles, I want you to take care of your Mom…Such a
    beautiful day…You’re my family…I’m always gonna be with you…”

       Then his dad is rolled into the OR; Miles is alone
    and he knows it.

        No one notices Miles entering the room while
    his father is prepped for surgery.  He doesn’t see much
    blood but it is clear his dad’s life is hanging in the
    balance.  Miles imagines in graphic detail his dad
    sitting up, screaming for help.  Miles faints.

    image

    Miles sees the wooden figure as his protection



    SPOILERS AHEAD

    **********************************************************************************

       Sometime later, Kim finds Miles on the floor. 
    Later still, Miles watches his mother in the corridor while a
    woman from the hospital talks to her, and ominously drops his
    dad’s boots.  Seeing Kim’s expression, Miles probably
    knows already.   His dad is dead.

       Only a few minutes later, Otis is wheeled down the
    same corridor.  His eyes meet Miles’ for a moment, then
    Otis is gone, too.

       You never find out what goes through Miles’ mind,
    seeing Otis.   That Otis is about to die too? 
    That the wooden Wendigo protected him and his mom, but not
    his dad, not Otis?  That he himself
    willed the Wendigo to kill Otis?  That the
    angry spirit of the buck, working somehow through
    the Wendigo, killed Otis?  So many questions, so few
    answers, especially for a city kid; the Catskills may as well
    be Siberia for him.

       To many, an ending like this must be unsatisfying, a
    reason not to like Wendigo.  Too much
    ambiguity, too much not explained.     

       But think about a movie like
    The Emerald Forest, and you may get some
    additional perspective.

       In that film, Tomme has grown up among adults who
    have taught him long and hard about his world.  They can
    sense exactly when he is ready to become a Man.   They
    not only give him the appropriate ceremony, they send him on
    a vision quest to ensure he finds his own way.  Miles is much
    younger, and lives in a society which has lost touch with
    most of its rites of manhood.  This is the real horror
    of Wendigo;  imagining yourself in
    Miles’ shoes.

       With only the little bit of learning he has had, he
    now must face life without a father.

       I can see plenty of negatives people will find with
    this movie.  Too ambiguous.  It jumps around,
    telling too many stories at once.  Amateurish special
    effects at times.  Shock-editing with no clear
    purpose. All valid complaints…to some extent.

       But look at Miles and all he is forced to go
    through.  His struggle to put any of his strange
    journey into perspective makes a story that cuts deep.

     

  • WITCHFINDER GENERAL

        Witchfinder General comes
    close to being the ultimate revenge fantasy.  It is unique in
    other ways too.  Vincent Price gives possibly his all-time
    best performance, working with a director who didn‘t want Price to
    start with.  Third, it is about as grim as movies get. 
    Not as bloody as a few, but bleak.

          For years, it could only be found in a
    version prepared for the USA, retitled
    The Conqueror Worm, to make it sound like an
    Edgar Allan Poe movie.  (That version ended with Vincent
    Price reading the last lines of Poe’s poem
    The Conqueror Worm.)  Because of extreme
    violence, it was often shown with massive cuts.

         Price’s reading is effective and the lines of
    poetry do complement the story you have seen.   But
    actually the story has nothing to do with Poe’s fiction. 
    Instead, it was based on a novel by Ronald Bassett. 
    Bassett’s novel is loosely based on a real man, Matthew Hopkins
    who worked as a witchfinder in England during the 1600’s. 

         One of the people who produced this movie
    describes Hopkins as a bad man who makes the people around him bad
    too.  You could argue that Hopkins only takes a festering
    situation and exploits it.

          A civil war in England filled with great
    religious persecution already rages.  Different religious
    groups (mainly, Protestants and Catholics) are anxious to destroy
    other groups.  Hopkins gives them an easy way to do this, by
    denouncing their enemies as witches.   Again and again,
    you see Hopkins and his assistant Stearne dragging people away,
    then torturing them or killing them, while others look on, some
    with satisfaction,some with blank looks.

    .image

    A world with all decency gone      

        Hatred, jealousy, religious intolerance all
    contribute to what Hopkins is allowed, and encouraged to do. 
    But is he truly a bad man?

       You can’t possibly see him another way.  The
    movie never gives you the least reason to justify anything Hopkins
    does.   He is only for himself, torturing anyone he’s
    able to, and using the torture for whatever money, power and women
    he can get along the way.  The script does not go very deep
    into any psychological motivation for his actions; all he knows is
    inflicting pain.image

    Matthew Hopkins–man without conscience    

    Hopkins’ effects are seen most on the hero, a
    farmer-turned-soldier, Richard Marshall.  The script does not
    try to analyze Marshall deeply either.  He is more of an
    Everyman in a Hell-ish place and time than someone you get to know
    deeply.

        Hopkins is responsible for the death of
    Marshall’s old friend John Lowes.   Lowes is also the
      guardian of Sara, Marshall’s bride- to- be. 
    Marshall is torn between his love for his wife, and his vow to
    kill Hopkins.   He doesn’t know yet that he actually may
    have to choose between the two.   The civil war is
    changing his life…too fast.  He has just killed for the first
    time.  By doing this (shooting a sniper) he saved his
    superior officer and became a hero.      

         But clearly, soldiering has brought out the
    violence in him too.  He tries his best to resist this; when
    Sara says to him “The army has taught you rough manners,” he
    struggles to be tender with her.   But hatred for
    Hopkins will make that impossible.

         One of the reasons
    Witchfinder General works so well is that it
    sweeps you up into this deadly desire for revenge…then clearly
    shows you  the actual revenge.  It’s the classic case
    of: Be careful what you wish for…

         Reeves’ outlook is a bleak one.  Marshall
    is someone who truly wants to do the right thing.  He wants
    no harm to come to Sara and to Lowes.  When Hopkins deceives
    Sara into having sex with him, then has Lowes killed, Marshall
    promises Sara to take revenge.  But again and again, you get
    the sense that the world is not a just universe.  Already
    it’s clear that it is not a safe place.

          In directing, Reeves works
    hard to show the contrasts between the calm, serene beauty of
    nature, and the brutality of people.  The movie starts in a
    pristine forest—sunlight actually creating a cross between the
    trees.  All is quiet. 

         Then, the sounds of hammering.  It is a
    man putting together a gallows to hang a witch.  Soon she
    will be dragged into this scene, with not a soul doing anything to
    protect her.  Many in the crowd look happy to see her die,
    many seem totally uncaring.  Nowhere do you see the least
    sign of compassion.

           Lowes’ neighbors hate him and are
    willing to see him die because of their religious
    differences.  But if he has wronged them in any way, the
    movie never shows it. Later, Marshall tells Sara she will be safe
    in another town, Lavenham.  They find the same hatred and
    bigotry exist there too. 

         To get his revenge on Hopkins, Marshall is
    willing to put Sara’s life in jeopardy, actually see her
    tortured.  It is as though his love for her has been held in
    suspension; revenge must come first.  Sara gets a long,
    intense look at the man Marshall has become…with devastating
    results.   At the end of the movie, both Sara and
    Marshall seem lost to insanity—possibly forever.

         Witchfinder’s director,
    Michael Reeves, was forced to use Vincent Price as Hopkins in
    order to get financial backing from the American film company
    AIP.   The movie was actually produced by a small
    English company, Tigon.  Reeves wanted an English actor,
    Donald Pleasence, ( Dr. Loomis from the mental institution in
    Halloween I and II). 

         I am a big fan of Pleasence.  If you can
    find it check out the obscure Charlton Heston movie
    Will Penny  (one of Heston’s personal
    favorites) for Pleasence’s incredible performance.  A truly
    scary portrayal, a man you pray you’ll never run
    into.  I caught myself more than once, picturing Pleasence
    doing some of the scenes Vincent Price was doing, and very
    effectively.

         Having said that, I think that Reeves got most
    of what he wanted out of Vincent Price. Price’s tendency to ham it
    up, that slight wink to the audience; these are nowhere to be
    found.  Price is cruel, unprincipled, cold as
    ice.   But he never overdoes his performance. 

           A lot has been written about Reeves’
    outlook, which is bleak, especially for a movie made in
    1968.  As in Night of the Living Dead, you
    find few heroes able to follow their ideals and show people a path
    out of prejudice, festering jealousy, and apathy.  In this
    climate, the few good people are swept away in the flood. 
    They are quickly turned into victims, or blind seekers of revenge.
     

    image

    For a long while, Hopkins can corrupt all who listen to
    him

  • REANIMATOR

      In 1984, a brilliant theater director and playwright made
    the jump from the stage into movies.  Stuart Gordon was
    virtually an unknown outside Chicago.  Out of all his
    choices, he decided to make a horror movie, a decision based most on money factors.

    Reanimator got a standing ovation at the Cannes Film Festival as a midnight feature.  American movie critics had good things to write about it too.

    Gordon’s movie (co-scripted with Dennis Paoli
    and Brian Yuzna) deserved all this word of mouth.  Although
    cheaply made, the writing, directing and acting were
    professional and more.  You probably won’t think about
    this until later—watching this picture is like riding a roller
    coaster.  But to make the absurdly crazed story work,
    everyone involved had to play it straight.  To the nth degree.  If you’ve seen Reanimator, I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.

    image

    Stuart Gordon; Despite a “too much ain’t enough” approach to
    style, he is generous and thoughtful in his interviews

    The plot is loosely based on an H.P.
    Lovecraft short story.   It’s not easy to describe
    Lovecraft’s fiction briefly.  His great strength was his
    imagination—to see further and deeper.  Edgar Allan Poe had a
    similar gift.  The years that passed between Poe and
    Lovecraft were filled with scientific discoveries and advances.
    Lovecraft used some of these as a jumping-off point.
    For example his fascination with other dimensions.
    Invisible to virtually all, but still there nevertheless; strange
    forces, strange creatures awaiting a chance to break free.

    Another gift Lovecraft had– the insight to see
    the limitations of science.  In other words,
    scientists might say– this stuff you’ve dreamed up:
    survivors of the Old Gods, creatures from other worlds,
    other dimensions, black magic, witchcraft, cannot be proved
    scientifically.

    I think Lovecraft would answer this way: Science has
    its own limitations, it can’t account for everything.  No way
    can our science disprove it either.

    Lovecraft’s biggest weakness?  Probably, his characters.  Although many of them narrate their stories
    in an overstated, borderline-hysterical tone, Lovecraft doesn’t
    develop them much.  As generous a person as he was said to
    be, he doesn’t seem that interested in the people in his stories.
    He married and had women friends but few female
    characters—the only memorable woman I can remember appeared in ashort story called The Thing on the Doorstep.

    Gordon, Paoli and Yuzna had the imagination to
    ask:  What if Lovecraft had pushed the sexual limits in his
    stories as far as they could go, along with everything else?
    What would that look like?  As far as I know, no Lovecraft adaptations before had asked that question.  The
    Reanimator team tried something taking realcourage:  Take Lovecraft’s vision/imagination and flesh out the characters including their sexuality.

    Hardcore Lovecraft fans may not necessarily like what the writers came up with.  But I think they would admit that to interpret Lovecraft in any way that does him justice, you need great imagination.  I think this movie does that…at the very least.

    And briefly:  For all his ‘overstatement’
    Lovecraft knew how to use a story to set you up.  Go back and
    re-read The Rats in the Walls…how flat, how
    mechanically the narrator tells the story…till the last page.
    Crazy things happen–much earlier in
    Reanimator, yet slowly but surely its story is
    also setting you up for an out of control finish.

    You meet Herbert West right away,  a
    student in a European medical school, unsuccessfully trying to
    bring a dead man back to life.  The authorities have a strong
    suspicion West killed the man.  But they let him go, in
    return for his promise to get out and never come back.

    The next time you see him, he’s a student in
    Arkham, Massachusets.  The staff at the new school is unsure;
    is he is a genius, or a psycho?  What they don’t know is that
    West is like a silent avalanche coming straight at you.  He’s
    picking up right where he left off, and they may as well try to
    stop a tidal wave.

    image

    West–egomania that rolls over everyone in sight

    West doesn’t even bother sucking up to the
    people in power at Arkham.  He’s about as far as you can get
    from a people person.  West is interested in one thing and
    one thing only—a compound he’s created that can bring the dead
    back to life.  All it takes is an injection of the bright
    electric-green liquid.  The substances West used are never
    explained—you have to take his brilliance for granted.  But
    for all his genius, he is the ultimate accident about to happen.

    The first to be swept up in the tidal wave is
    Dan Cain, a bright, kindhearted, dedicated medical student.
    Dan is already in a difficult situation.  He is in love
    with Meg, the beautiful daughter of the medical school dean.
    Dean Halsey is a basically good man, but over-attached to
    Meg, and an arch-conservative.  He’s always gotten along with
    Dan, but would go ballistic if he knew his daughter was having sex
    with him.  And Dan has no money; he is on scholarship, a
    scholarship totally at the dean’s discretion.

    From out of nowhere, West barges into Dan’s
    life.  (To ease his money problems, Dan has placed an ad for
    a roommate.)  In no time, West sizes up the situation with
    Dan and Meg.  He blackmails Dan into letting him stay.
    Meg feels intuitively that Dan is in deep deep shit already.

    The reality is even worse.  Dan’s cat
    goes missing.  Meg finds the body in West’s refrigerator.
    West denies everything.  But days later, Dan hears
    ominous noises and follows the sounds down to the basement.
    There he sees West, struggling to get the now-crazed cat off
    his back.

    West talks about his discovery.  His
    formula will work on lifeforms dead less than 12 minutes, and
    their brain not traumatized.  He mentions overcoming the “6
    to 12 minute brain death,” something Dan knows well.  (He
    lost a patient, only days before; someone he was sure he could
    revive.)  West’s words strike a deep chord in Dan: “We can
    defeat brain death.”

    image

    Dan–in awe of the possibility of defeating death

    Dan is torn between disbelief, disgust, and an overwhelming wish
    to give mankind this great discovery.  He allows West to
    inject the cat—again.

    “Don’t expect it to tango,“ he tells Dan.
    The cat screeches quietly, then loud.  “Birth is
    always painful,” West says.

    Dan sees that West is out of control—anyone
    with a pulse can tell.  But West’s self-confidence,
    his dream of  defeating death—all this touches something in
    Dan.  He doesn’t want to lose another coded patient when he
    could be using this weapon.

    West reminds me of Hitler—a man who believes in the
    purity, the ultimate greatness of his vision.  He will let
    nothing stop him.  Humanity, individual lives are minor
    factors compared to the supreme force of his will, translated into
    heroic deeds.

    Dan is like the German people who followed
    Hitler.  They took a leap of faith in the man’s character,
    because they wanted so much to believe in the greatness of his
    vision.  They were desperate for someone who told them…You
    want glory?  I can give you glory beyond anything you’ve ever
    dreamed.

    Again and again, Dan does his best to clean up
    the mess that West (actually both of them) has caused.   He
    ignores what he sees; that reality means little to West.
    That West sees every obstacle life throws them as one more
    chance to use his liquid and observe the results.

    If you have never seen
    Reanimator, you may be getting the wrong
    idea—that this is a tragic story, a grim experience.  A plot
    about missed opportunities, like the Hammer
    Frankenstein series. But the movie changes;
    slowly but surely its irony, its twisted sense of humor begins to
    show itself.   Speaking just for myself, horror and comedy
    are usually a miserable combination.  But every once in a
    while, adding subtle comic elements does work.  The Howling (I)
    is a good example.

    The humor starts to bubble up to the surface
    at just the right moment—West and Cain have reached the point of
    no return.  West is confident again after bringing the cat
    back.  Ready for the big enchilada…human beings.  But
    you can’t perform this experiment without some major risks.

    Their plan to minimize the risks means
    sneaking into the morgue.  Then look for the best possible
    subject—a body recently deceased, the least amount of head trauma.

    And still, things go wrong…big time.
    Their cadaver of choice, a big muscular guy, is suddenly
    awake, psychotic, throwing the two men around like rag dolls.
    Dean Halsey shows up at the worst possible moment.  By
    the time the cadaver is dead again, it has strangled Halsey to
    death.

    West may be crazy, but he can think on his
    feet.  And he has a plan—his usual.   When in doubt,
    whip out the liquid and his syringe.  He injects the dean.

    Halsey is back…insane but alive.  West
    somehow creates an explanation made-to-order.  No criminal
    charges (yet) for West and Cain.

    They don’t realize yet they have a problem as
    serious as criminal charges.  Turning Halsey into a lunatic
    has opened the door for a sociopath who’s waited a long time for
    this.  Dr. Hill.  Only Halsey held more power than Dr.
    Hill, whose quiet, thoughtful manner hides a devious, sleazy core.
    Hill sees West and Cain as enemies he must stamp out.

    image

    Dr. Hill–even his severed head is dangerous

    Cain’s dream of benefiting mankind is already
    evaporating fast.  What started as a quest for progress has
    now turned into duel between West and Dr. Hill.  For Hill
    it’s all about power and fame.  Lobotomize Halsey so that he
    can never be cured.  Force Meg to marry him—he has always had
    a secret obsession with her.  And steal West’s formula.
    Two egos the size of Mt. Everest, about to butt heads

    Much of Reanimator’s humor is the “did he just
    say what I thought he said?” variety.  In one scene, West
    injects his liquid into a severed head.  The head lies silent
    on West’s table.  West taps it impatiently with a pencil.
    The eyes struggle to open.  West’s  scientific
    curiosity is unending.  “What are you thinking?  How are
    you feeling?” he asks the head.

    image

    West–unending curiosity

    It’s easy to forget how well-done the characterization and acting
    are, in the midst of so much bizarre, nonstop action.
    Gordon’s creative view includes this:  A movie can’t
    scare you if you don’t care about the characters.  Meg,
    played effectively and more by Barbara Crampton is one example.
    You definitely care about her.  She searches for some
    way to stop the madness that the man she loves—Dan, is getting
    pulled into.  And her father becomes a near-zombie; you feel
    her desperation.

    On the DVD’s commentary, Gordon does not come
    off as I expected… chuckling like crazy over his own ingenuity.
    Instead he is gracious in praising the acting of Crampton
    and David Gale  (Hill) under trying circumstances.
    Paoli talks about the creative process; how attached he
    became to West’s character.  How he (Paoli) could move his
    story ahead, based on how alive West had become, in his mind.

    I think the filmmakers’ decision to leave out
    any tongue-in-cheek attitude was absolutely right, the only way to
    play this.  They got what they wanted and I am grateful.