









your happy childhood ends here!
Totally Killer (2023)
I was a bit skeptical concerning TOTALLY KILLER mostly out of loyalty to the fine film that is THE FINAL GIRLS (2015) which it seemed to be aping. In reality, it probably owes more to the HAPPY DEATH DAY flicks and I gotta say it eventually won me over due to its sense of humor and commitment to not caring if I bought its flimsy time travel logic or not. (Ultimately I preferred it to the more tedious HAPPY DEATH DAY films but it can never touch the magic of the aforementioned THE FINAL GIRLS). SABRINA’s forever teen Kiernan Shipka stars as Jamie Hughes, a gal who travels back to arguably the most eighties year in the eighties, 1987 with plans to thwart a slasher serial killer in a mask that resembles Max Headroom. Doing so will hopefully prevent the eventual Halloween night murder of her mother (Julie Bowen of AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN PARIS ). Bloodshed ensues along with choice tunes by New Order & Bananarama. Much fun is had with Jaimie being consistently shocked by just how casually politically incorrect everyone was back in the day, particularly her beloved parents. Personally I wouldn’t have minded if this bubbly BACK TO THE FUTURE meets (pick an eighties slasher) lark had the gumption to explore darker territory (had more gruesome kills) but it’s got more than a couple twists that keep you guessing and the cast is obviously having a blast with the material. Plus, there can never be too many horror movies that take place on Halloween as far as I’m concerned so I’ll happily add this to my yearly October watch pile.
Pet Sematary: Bloodlines (2023)
I love the idea of a PET SEMATARY prequel that explores the town of Ludlow’ Maine’s past, the legend of deceased soldier Tim Baterman, the Native American origin of the cursed gravesite and the youth of cautioning oldster Judd Crandall. I’d certainly prefer it offshoot from Mary Lambert’s beloved take on the material rather than 2019’s misguided remake (I’ll never get over how they were somehow able to strip legendary traumatizer Zelda of her power to terrify) but I'm game to give it a shot. Unfortunately, PET SEMATARY: BLOODLINES frustratingly buries its endless potential along with its notable cast (David Duchovny, Henry Thomas, Pam Grier, Samantha Mathis and likable newcomer Jackson White) in muck both figuratively and literally (the climax degenerates to an underground mud wrestling match). Worse still, there’s an ever prevalent vacuum of actual horror; the undead look merely peeved, zombie cats are AWOL and the audience is inexcusably never assaulted by an actor attempting an irksome Maine accent. In fact, nothing new is offered besides the highly unwanted left field assertion that the reanimated will only die if you destroy their eyes. Lambert’s original take on King’s novel may have been off-kilter (and even courting campy) but at least it was colorful, unpredictable and unafraid to get weird, this true step backwards is just plain toothless.
Woodchipper Massacre (’88)
Here is a reminder that a movie doesn’t have to be technically brilliant to be entertaining. WOODCHIPPER MASSACRE cost a couple hundred bucks to make, was filmed on video in Connecticut in 1988 and is highly flawed (every hokey line is SCREAMED to assure it is recorded) and yet is a surprisingly fun black comedy. It’s sorta a cross between THE CAT IN THE HAT (kids getting into trouble while the authority figure is away) and LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS (inadvertent murderers make matters worse while attempting to hide their crime). Highly obnoxious Aunt Tess (Patricia McBride), a Halloween-wigged grating cross between “Billie” (Adrienne Barbeau) in CREEPSHOW and Momma (Anne Ramsey) in THROW MOMMA FROM THE TRAIN, is tasked with caretaking her nephews (writer/director Jon McBride, pipsqueak Tom Casiello) and niece (eye-rolling sarcasm queen Denice Edeal) while their father is away on a nondescript business trip. Aunt Tess is a veritable harpy who when she attempts to confiscate young Tom’s recently acquired RAMBO-knife is accidentally stabbed and killed by it instead. Grim humor abounds as the three resourceful siblings eye the Woodchipper Pop rented out for the weekend to take care of any evidence and an unplanned visit from Tess’s psychotic son complicates matters further. I’m not going to lie, I snickered throughout this movie during a time that I really did not wish to snicker at anything and for that I’m forever in its debt. If you have a sick sense of humor and love to see awful people who beg for a comeuppance get the one they richly deserve, I highly suggest tracking this hilarious homemade treat down (look no further than Tubi).
Oy vey, the missteps, miscalculations and missed opportunities in THE EXORCIST: BELIEVER are legion. It would be nice if an, “Oh well, at least you tried” sentiment were applicable here but I’m not sure this movie even earns that much faith. No late in the game tacked on, finger waving speech about love, understanding and the power of community can diffuse the air of insincere opportunism that permeates throughout this picture. It looks and acts like a movie but it’s hard to see it as anything other than a device built to snatch money from the pockets of the converted with as little effort as humanly possible. I’m sure all involved are fans of the OG so why does this reboot feel like a creaky-wheeled medicine show cart rolling into town steered by a wax mustached charlatan barking, “Two for one sale on possessed girls, today!” The good news is that the blameless saintly duo of Ellen Burstyn & Linda Blair are guaranteed to selflessly hand over their paychecks to worthy causes.
Leslie Odom Jr. plays Victor Fielding, a man who once had to choose between the life of his wife and unborn daughter during a bad-timing, pregnancy meets Haitian earthquake mishap. The ordeal, like many a Sophie’s choice, douses Victor’s belief in a higher power. Thirteen years later, his decision seems clear as he is now raising a spirited teen daughter named Angela (Lidya Jewett) who grieves her mother enough to try to contact her via seance with bestie Katherine (Olivia Neil). Depending on your outlook, the girls are either really good or really bad at communicating with the dead because they go missing for three days and are found in a barn suffering from every lazy writer’s favorite ailment, amnesia (depriving the audience of the film’s potentially most frightening scenes) and (too) slowly escalating demonic possession. Luckily (by the grace of God), Victor lives next door to critic-bait character actress Ann Dowd (whose character is also named Ann) who is not only a nurse at the local hospital but a lapsed would-be nun who eventually orchestrates a potluck-style exorcism that dominates the second half of the film. In order to (try to) insure proceedings are taken seriously, legacy character Chris MacNeil (the always welcome Burstyn) is dusted off for a Ted Talk about how possession and exorcisms are an important part of many religions (and a balanced breakfast) and by the way, Catholics don’t own the corner on them, thank ya much.
David Gordon Green’s scattered collage approach combined with cinematographer Michael Simmond’s makeshift homegrown honeycomb hideout aesthetic previously fit hand in glove with HALLOWEEN’s plucky indie roots (albeit to diminishing returns). The idea though that a monolithic religious epic like THE EXORCIST would work well shoved into the same grungy sausage wrapping is bizarre at best and just plain thoughtless at worst; the result resembles a soap box race car. The contraption is able to periodically stroke the universal fear of sickness befalling a loved one and the innate anxiety of guardianship but it feels more inadvertently dredged from the environment (forever yikes to hospitals) than truly earned. To be fair, every once in a while, a demonic image or two strikes a nerve but they are few and far between in the “see what sticks” barrage. Perhaps there is some campy fun to be had here but it’s the kind that comes almost automatically with a snarling possession film (I mean who doesn’t enjoy freaked-out mortals being roasted by a trolling demonic spirit who thinks it’s Don Rickles) and I'd like to think one of the very few critically lauded horror masterpieces deserves more (at least EXORCIST II: THE HERETIC had tap-dancing). It should go without saying that if you ever have the honor of working with Ellen Burstyn that the least you do, is not saddle her with cringey lines like, “In the name of my beloved daughter Regan…” or have her endure crucifixes being shoved into her eyes. The woman is a horror legend for God’s sake.
It’s October, the autumn air is turning cool and crisp, and I’m itching to watch as many horror movies as I can this month. Every year I make room in the Halloween watchlist for old favorites, but also for relatively new classics. One of those more recent classics is The Lords of Salem (2012). Written and directed by Rob Zombie, The Lords of Salem explores what happens when a Salem, Massachusetts disc jockey becomes dangerously entangled with an ancient coven of Satan-worshipping witches. Zombie’s wife and frequent collaborator Sheri Moon Zombie plays the hard rock DJ Heidi, while horror and cult movie veterans Dee Wallace, Judy Geeson, Meg Foster, and Ken Foree, among others, round out the cast.
In the decade since its release, The Lords of Salem has become a bit of a cult classic, at least among discerning horror fans who love a good, scary witch story. In my opinion, Zombie has never made a better film. His movies are often hit or miss for me, with House of 1,000 Corpses(2003) and Devil’s Rejects (2005) being major hits, while his two Halloween remakes and 31 (2016) were less impressive. As much as I love House of 1,000 Corpses and Devil’s Rejects though, The Lords of Salem exists on a different level. It’s a haunting and impactful work of art, the sort of movie that sticks with you forever, giving you instant shivers any time you recall it’s finest, most disturbing moments.
Zombie establishes a thick, suffocating sense of dread from the start that never lets up. The film is drenched in chilling, autumnal atmospherics. Between cinematography, editing, score, and performances, all elements work in perfect harmony to create something altogether unsettling. There are several disturbing shots in the film that linger in the mind’s eye long after the end credits. Zombie was at his creative peak with The Lords of Salem, no doubt about it. It sure doesn’t hurt that he has legends like Meg Foster and Bruce Davison turning in stellar performances, or that the Salem, Massachusetts locations are obviously perfect for a horror story about witches.
Let’s take a minute to praise Sheri Moon Zombie’s lead performance. Whatever you may think of Mrs. Zombie’s talents, she has earned her stripes in several of her husband’s flicks, during which she’s delivered what the roles demand. In House of 1,000 Corpses, she’s a demented loose cannon, cackling and strutting around the Firefly clan’s house of horrors. With The Lords of Salem, she’s called on to play it much more low key, even solemn at times, and she succeeds at matching the film’s excessively gloomy tone. In her hands, Heidi’s harrowing descent into the ancient coven’s grasp is sad to watch.
Once we realize why the witches want Heidi, it begins to feel like she’s practically helpless to defend herself. That’s a bold move by Zombie: as the movie progresses, any hopes for a happy ending feel increasingly unlikely. If this all sounds like a bummer, it is, but that’s why I love it so much! It commits to relentless tension building and doesn’t give us any easy outs. For me, that’s why The Lords of Salem is Rob Zombie’s masterwork, and the film of his that sits most comfortably alongside other excellent, slow-burn horror classics like Messiah of Evil (1973) and Next of Kin (1982). It’s a remarkable display of restraint from Zombie, a filmmaker more associated with frenzied chaos than with this film’s stark, autumnal horror. If you’re looking for a perfect Halloween season movie to watch on a chilly October evening this year, then turn the lights down low, fire up The Lords of Salem, and prepare to have trouble sleeping that night.
UNK SEZ: Make sure to visit our pal Mike at his home base HERE!
Your standard home invasion is frightening enough but what if you learned the “invasion” in question went far beyond your own home to include say, the entire planet? That’s basically the plight of poor Brynn (Kaitlyn Dever) who, when she’s not wrestling with progressively intimidating alien life forms, builds a scale model of the town that scorns her while mourning the loss of a childhood friend she accidentally killed.
This PG-rated sci-fi horror hybrid could easily crash and burn but thankfully it’s written and directed by our ever reliable buddy Brian Duffield who previously directed the outstanding SPONTANEOUS (2020) and penned such personal faves as LOVE AND MONSTERS (2020) and the highly underrated UNDERWATER (2020, I shall die on this submerged hill). Two standing ovation worthy choices were made by Duffield right from the starting gate. First of all, the aliens are blatant, upfront and in your face rather than stingily kept in the dark until the final curtain and secondly there is no dialogue (except perhaps a line at the beginning). As someone who easily tires of chin music, it’s a refreshing relief and I gotta say, it really works within the film to create an atmosphere of pure urgency. There’s not much else to do in Brynn’s unfortunate situation than shut up and run!
The title NO ONE CAN SAVE YOU works just as much as low key friendly advise as it does a gloomy observation. Brynn’s clearly battling her tragic past as much as the startlingly varied varmints that pursue her. Dever’s expressive mug and girl-next-door demeanor does much to ground the film’s more fantastic elements and make them as creepily believable as an extravagant nightmare. Few action stars endeavor as much as fast on her feet Brynn, and the I’m betting the sight of the imposing alien creatures alone would break the spirit of most. Although Brynn is of few words, while witnessing her ordeal I could not follow suit; I often muttered things like “Oh shit”, “no way” and of course a direct quote from John Carpenter’s THE THING (’82). “You gotta be fucking kidding.” My poor brain was trained to expect shy twiggy ectomorphs who sneak peaks from behind doors like in COMMUNION (’89) or those inquisitive surgery-happy abductors who are happy to ghost you post-examination like in the infamous traumafier FIRE IN THE SKY (’93). I wasn’t ready for giant spider-beings clawing over houses, parasitic throat-dwelling jellyfish and what can only be described as TIK-TOK-baiting intergalactic Vogue-ing.
As eye-popping and over the top as NOBODY IS GOING TO SAVE you is willing to go, it impressively remains a lean, clean, straight forward machine, an apocalyptic character study that expertly juggles both the personal and the infinite. Better still, unlike my own too numerous alien encounters, the events depicted here are memorable enough that I won’t have to resort to expensive hypnotherapy to tearfully recall them! What better praise is there than that? Bonus points are rewarded for the film’s ultimate conclusion that asserts that defiant denial in the face of horrific reality is the key to happiness. I couldn’t agree more.
Lord help me, I rather enjoyed THE NUN 2. I’ve gathered this CONJURING universe offshoot is considered to be a lesser branch on the franchise tree but I appreciate its pure simplicity and love how it generously pours on the gothic ambiance.The ever unassuming Taissa Farmiga returns as sister Irene who, after some globetrotting and Nancy Drew-ing, discovers that her nemesis, the demon nun Valak (Bonnie Aarons) rather than being relinquished to hell as assumed, has hitched a ride inside her good buddy Maurice (Jonas Bloquet) aka “Frenchie” and is hanging out in a boarding school in France. I can’t help but find myself grossly concerned with the jump-scare-happy happenings that follow because gosh darn it, I really want these two characters to live full and happy, demon nun-free lives. This is one of my favorite aspects of cinema, it allows the viewer to feel empathy for other humans while keeping them safe from any damage that fellow humans may potentially cause. I’m fine with simply being a cheerleader here. Go Irene and Frenchie! Down with Valek! Boo too all evil demon nuns!
Much like ANNABELLE CREATION and OUIJA: ORIGIN OF EVIL, I’m thinking THE NUN 2 is a happy step up from its underachieving foundation building predecessor. The scares (or at least the chair shaking, bombastic Dolby system my local theater wields) work well. In fact, one clever bit that plays with apophenia at a newsstand startled me even after I’d witnessed it countless times in the trailer. The titular Nun herself looks especially formidable throughout the climax and as hoary as many of the visual elements are, I have to admit they pretty much match my own personal aesthetic and I’d gladly hang many of the shots in this film on my wall. Better still, there is a previously unseen monster that makes a late in the game appearance (via a stained glass window no less) that absolutely turned my pupils into giant cartoon hearts. I wish I could describe this creature further without ruining his inauguration but suffice to say, I now covet an action figure of this glorious cherry on the cake beast. Consider me a convert, THE NUN 2 delivers the gruesome goods you'd expect and several you might not see coming.
A HAUNTING IN VENICE
I’ve always considered murder mysteries as horror adjacent fare and the latest Agatha Christie adaption courtesy of Kenneth Branagh A HAUNTING IN VENICE (proceeded by MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS (2017) & DEATH ON THE NILE (2022)) favors the fright zone even more so than usual. Based on Christie’s 1969 novel “Hallowe’en Party”, this outing (again featuring the director as detective Hercule Poirot) focuses on seances, curses, ghosts and of course, murder most foul.
On Halloween night mystery author Ariadne Oliver (Tina Fey… now, I know you may be thinking, “Hey Unk, one of the many benefits of being a horror fan is that it makes it easy to avoid movies that prominently feature Tina Fey” but trust me, Branagh is well aware of the delicate situation and puts her innate snarkiness to ample use) coerces a retired and uninspired Poirot to attend a seance in a cursed orphanage inhabited by a grieving opera singer (EDEN LAKE’s Kelly Reilly) in order to expose the assumed phony psychic medium Joyce Reynolds (recent Oscar winner Michelle Yeoh). Poirot is quick to find a slew of flim-flam falsehoods throughout the session but as the night progresses and bodies pile up, it appears something supernatural may actually be afloat. It’s unlikely anyone will get too frightened of the goings-on here but there’s absolutely no denying the cozy nest of tension built or the dark foreboding beauty of the surroundings. As an epic storm rages outside, Branagh dips into the Orson Welles bag of cinematic artistry he has not deigned to plunder since DEAD AGAIN (’91) and wow, Venice has not been this visually stunning and haunting sinister since Roeg’s DON’T LOOK NOW.
In our household, there are kids’ channels and picture-driven menus that corral my son and daughter to a safe haven of youth programming, and restrictions that prohibit them from most else, if they would even be so inclined to try venturing out of bounds at an early age.
For any other pentagenarians out there, the TV of my youth was navigated via a dial that you had to physically get up and turn and covered all of twelve channels (13 if you counted the “U”). The menu was the TV Guide at home next to Dad’s ashtray. As a kid, you knew when the cartoons were on, as well as general kid-fare, and the few channels that would deliver it. Saturday mornings, and about an hour before and after school was all there was, and even that was relegated to maybe two channels at best. The rest was a roulette wheel of “anything goes”, and the further the clock strayed from those kid times the better the odds were that you would stumble upon something best left unseen.
With that stage set, I remember vividly stumbling upon a rerun of The Outer Limits, one channel away from Philadelphia’s The Wee Willy Weber Show, which showed my favorite cartoon, Milton the Monster. The Outer Limits, in its high contrast black and white, was a great example of a trap show for impressionable young minds of the early 70’s. The episode (as I’ve backfilled with research) was Behold, Eck! – featuring a two-dimensional electricity monster that could only be seen with special glasses, by various forehead-sweaty scientists, and shrieking damsels.
Tame and goofy as it is by today’s standards, it was enough to nightmare me out, come bedtime. The remedy was simple enough….stay away from channel 5 during Wee Willy Weber.(approach the channel counter-clockwise, no less!) But therein lie the problem…I knew it was there, and just one small channel change away. I let it go a few days I suppose as my false bravado built, and debated a quick flick back and forth, for a quick peer into Pandora’s Box. I’m sure I had a few quick back-and-forth’s without any problem as I set approached the inevitable.
But then, of course, in the spirit of William Shatner opening his airplane window shade to be met with the fuselage-ripping Gremlin, I managed to go from this:
To this:
Argh. I’m trapped in a heat wave and I have no place to hide. Might as well cover all the windows, blast my AC and hunker down to watch the made for TV movie NO PLACE TO HIDE (’81) (on ol' reliable YouTube). I got an itch and it can only be scratched by the legendary John Llewellyn Moxey (THE NIGHT STALKER (’72), HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS (’72), I, DESIRE (’82) et al.). This flick has fascinated and creeped me out since my youth and may be ground zero for my freaky fear of movies involving women simply trying to make it to their cars at night in seemingly unpopulated parking lots or garages. I love this once ubiquitous trope-cornucopia spilling clacking heals on cement, startling car horns and menacing shadows and/or silhouettes. It’s even more satisfying if the potential victim ends up hiding under the car staring at ominous shoes. The real pay off is the inevitable hider in the back seat though. So gratifying.
Doe-eyed art student Amy Manning (frequently terrorized Kathleen Beller of ARE YOU IN THE HOUSE ALONE? (’78) and DEADLY MESSAGES (’85) fame) would just like to get to her car without being attacked by a masked creep, thank you very much.
Make it to the car she does, but only to discover she’s fallen for the oldest trick in the book and is ubber-ing an assailant who sneakily hid in the back seat and waited for the most stressful moment to reveal himself (such things kindertraumas are made of). The uninvited masked threat, rather than kill poor Amy while he has a chance, instead utters the cryptic threat, “Soon, Amy, soon” and bolts out of the car as her head is turned. Turns out Amy has been stalked by this lanky lunatic for a while now, so much so that all of her friends and family are beginning to suspect she’s imaging the whole thing and the ever helpful police have thrown up their hands in exhaustion. Is Amy a nutcase or is somebody trying to make her look like a nutcase? When she receives a sinister funeral wreath in the mail it seems tangible evidence has finally been secured. That is until Amy questions the florist about who ordered the delivery and he informs her that she herself did! What the hell?
Luckily there is a tragedy in the past just waiting to be explored. Amy by all accounts was doing swell until that fateful day a year ago when her beloved (and rich) father, while visiting their lakeside cabin, died in a mysterious boating accident! Amy was meant to join her father on the trip but stayed behind (likely to concentrate on the sculptured bust of herself she’s been working diligently on) and now is looney with guilt. I don’t want to give too much away but I’m sure you’ll have a general idea of which direction this cart is heading when I tell you Amy’s super concerned and unsuspicious stepmother Adele (Kodak spokeswoman Marietta Hartley who incidentally, I assisted as a retail worker when she was doing a play in town in the mid-nineties) and beady-eyed psychiatrist Cliff Letterman (the totally non-creepy Keir Dullea) conclude the best way for Amy to face her mental problems is by visiting said secluded cabin far from any possible aid if trouble should arise. Sure, it’s probably the most unsafe place anyone could possibly think of going to but psychiatrists and stepmothers know best!
Just when you think you’ve got this particular DEATHTRAP (’82) all figured out, the game board is spun yet again and something akin to DIABOLIQUE (’55) emerges sweetly injected with some choice modern slasher set pieces. Horror mainstay and Hammer alumni Jimmy Sangster (HORROR OF DRACULA/FRANKENSTEIN etc., plus many a clever psychological puzzler like SCREAM OF FEAR (’61), PARANOIAC (’63) NIGHTMARE (’64) etc.) truly knows how to twist the knife, old pro Moxey keeps the cat & mouse stalking at an impressive pace and Beller is basically built for the material. Heck, the time period it was made in alone delivers nearly everything on my own personal goggle-box couch party shopping list. Outdated yet sincerely missed corniness abounds and it's possible NO PLACE TO HIDE might leave a few horror-heads craving more bloodshed, but all in all, this is one fun under-seen TV gem that shouldn’t stay hidden.
Unk Sez: Hey, check this awesomeness out! Many moons ago (I’m talking eleven years) we received a duel NTT (HERE) from the great & powerful Senski, one of which concerned a PSA on the danger of swimming pools…
“The second PSA I only saw once, but it left an indelible impression. This would be late '70s-early '80s, and it aired on CBS right before the 10pm news. It was all of ten or 15 seconds in length. Sunny day, camera in the trees, beginning a slow pan down and to the right. A radio announcer is carrying on about what a gorgeous day it is, ending with something along the lines of, "…so get outside and take a dip in that pool!" By then the camera has descended upon a swimming pool, with a long shot of a body lying face down in the water, motionless, presumably dead. The Voice of Doom then warns the audience about swimming alone or unattended. It was chilling to see a PSA with an actual body. I often wonder if it aired so infrequently because of viewer calls. It was as late as late could be and still fall within prime time.”
Now, all these years later and our old pal Daniel has unearthed Senski’s grim, never forgotten NTT (which you can view HERE)! How amazing is that? Eleven years! Thanks, Daniel for the reminder that it’s never too late to be revisited by a Kindertrauma!
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