kindertrauma

Category: General Horror

Dear Dead Delilah (1972)

Posted on By unkle lancifer

I swear to God I'm not purposely trying to be the most unhip horror fan in the universe. Baby I was born this way. I've already stated my affection for crusty mansions, blood-stained doilies and cracked doll heads and now I must salute the incredible joy that is Southern-fried sud-goth. 1972's DEAR DEAD DELILAH is like a soap opera with axe murders rather than commercials and it's my favorite thing I've seen since the last favorite thing I've seen. Some people think it's boring and those people have no idea what they are talking about. Really, I'm beginning to think that "It's boring" is code for "There's dialogue." How can anyone not enjoy this movie?

Like all great stories, we begin in the past. In this case, we meet Little Luddy who is opposing her mother and preparing for an unapproved of date. She explains her actions to her mom who does not respond, not because she doesn't care but because she is chopped up with an axe. Years later an older, artsy Luddy (PATRICIA CARMICHAEL) is released from prison. She has nowhere to go but thanks to a fortuitous event (being hit in the head by a football!), she soon finds herself nursed back to heath and gainfully employed in a Tennessee mansion. The homestead is overseen by dying matriarch Deliah (AGNES MOOREHEAD) who has gathered her family together to divvy up the inheritance. Chaos, angry words and ultimately many an axe murder are the result when Delilah informs the congregated that the family fortune is hidden in the house and it's finder's keepers.

This being MOOREHEAD's final film appearance, I was fully prepared for the phone-in routine. Oh, me of little faith. AGNES is as sharp as ever and devours every line with acidic relish and her southern accent adds an extra bite to her performance. Her mere presence is enough to satisfy but someone up there must like me because she is not only there but she is also there in a motorized wheelchair! There is one scene where Delilah wheels her chair into a mausoleum and then, after a momentary scream, the chair comes whizzing out by itself and that is when my couch officially turned into cloud nine. Sure, the plot and execution of D.D.D. dips into veritable camp at times but the shear darkness of its humor is too aggressive to dismiss. Just because the film is having some fun doesn't mean it doesn't take its horror seriously.

DEAR DEAD DELILAH was written by author JOHN FARRIS the mind behind THE FURY and it's sadly the only film he ever directed. At times it has the cardboard drive-in vibe of S.F. BROWNRIGG (DON'T GO IN THE BASEMENT, DON'T OPEN THE DOOR!) but its flashes of dreamy surrealism, and taste for broad soap opera theatrics also brings DAVID LYNCH to mind. It is a bit rough around the edges (me likey) but it truly accomplishes some striking moments of eerie weirdness. Best of all, the various deaths of the conniving family members are as strong as anything in BAY OF BLOOD or FRIDAY THE 13TH. My life was a little bit more complete seeing Grandpa Walton (WILL GREER) stumble out of a smoke house carrying one hacked off hand in the other. I feel I was always meant to see that.

Like BLOOD AND LACE (1971) and MANSION OF THE DOOMED (1976) both of which I just discovered recently, I think D.D.D. is a sorely undervalued film. Why, even my trusted Encyclopedia of Horror is a naysayer! I even read one review that called it "typical." C'mon, can you really use a word like "typical" to describe a movie that exhibits decapitations via horseback, a forced heroin overdose, unexplained random optical effects and an axe blade used for foreplay? I guess the inheritance gimmick is passé but that's just a springboard. Truth told, I would have liked to have gotten to know Luddy a little better but the fact that she's such a unique proto-final girl is ultimately enough for me. I couldn't help but dig that her post incarceration experiences resemble those of dear Norman Bates in PSYCHO II. Anyway, don't get fooled by the consensus and haters to the left, if you're like me, a fuddy duddy who likes it bloody, give this often sneaky and slightly creaky crazy train a ride.

Streaming Alert! :: Silent Scream (1980)

Posted on By unkle lancifer

I don't know if any one movie can satisfy all of my horror needs. Sometimes I want scares, sometimes I want gore and sometimes I just desire a moderately creepy old dark house flick. 1980's SILENT SCREAM falls into that last category, it won't satiate anybody's desire for bloodshed but its slinking, reluctant pace, haunting imagery and exceptional use of locale make it go-to horror comfort food for yours truly. I'd probably love it a little bit more if somebody's head was chopped off but you can't have everything. SILENT SCREAM is like the last gasp of traditional old school horror right before the great age of slashers really got under way. You can almost sense the genre as a whole transforming before your eyes, kicking off classic cobwebs and lunging for the sharpest butcher knife in the drawer.

REBECCA "BOOGENS bait" BALDING plays Scotty Parker (add that name to the gender-neutral "final girl" moniker list) a gal with a Twiki meets Tootie mushroom-do who is looking for college lodging. Lucky for me she selects the most foreboding place she can find overlooking the sea and moves right in. As if the house were not off putting enough, her landlady is YVONNE DeCARLO who is the mother of a blatantly nerdy (i.e. potential psycho) son. Scotty is joined by some other young room renters including a potential beau, a brassy gal pal and a wealthy douche, all of who appear put on this planet in order to die before she. To all my friends out there hiding horrible family secrets within their home, please take my simple advice and never rent rooms to anybody. I don't care how much you need the money; it's just not worth the risk!

Now I'm going to give away a major plot point because it is also a major selling point as well! Do not read further if you have not had time in the past thirty years to watch this movie! The big secret in the creaky old spooky house is that mom and son are hiding someone special in the walls and that mystery guest is the one and only BARBARA STEELE! For me, this is the best news ever! I can't think of anybody I'd rather find hiding in my house except CHRISTINA RICCI or maybe MORRISSEY! This is when the movie gets really good because BABS plays a tragic, lost-in-time figure and those are my peeps! I think it's nifty that she's just as much a fly caught in amber as the film itself! Who cares if she is a murderer? She has the most beautiful eyes. I love this character because she plays the same song over and over again on a red record player and has placed an old picture of herself in her mirror so that she doesn't have to worry about aging. I think that's a fine idea. Her situation is very sad and I'm so jealous!

One of the reasons I really dug TI WEST's HOUSE OF THE DEVIL is because it so reminded me of SILENT SCREAM. Both movies have a nearly identical structure and a "keep your shirt on" pace. Maybe some viewers have something better to do, I sure as hell don't. I guess my biggest complaint about SILENT is that there is a slightly snorey side story which involves the police investigation and that is something I don't care about even if the officers are THE TOOLBOX MURDER's CAMERON MITCHELL and Dorito dude AVERY SCHRIEBER. It's a small price to pay for the good stuff though.

Believe it or not SILENT SCREAM was a big hit back in its day landing just in time to reap the post HALLOWEEN benefits. I did not encounter it myself until the mid nineties when it jumped out at me at a used video shop. I wasn't expecting much but I thoroughly enjoyed it as a potent punch of nostalgia and a semi-soothing mood piece with a couple good chills. Part of the reason may be personal; my first year of college I rented a room in a big old house on the coast of Massachusetts and it really brings back strong memories for me. I never witnessed any gruesome murders but I did find a giant rat staring back at me from my closet. Who can say which is worse?

NOTE: SILENT SCREAM was filmed in a joint called "The Smith Estate" in Los Angeles. Strangely enough it is the exact same beautiful Victorian home you'll find in 1964's SPIDER BABY (also available on Netflix streaming.) Stranger still, the two movies share almost the exact same shot of a character climbing up the front stairs, knocking on the front door and then checking out the window to the left! Wha!? ( I have not been this excited since I found out that Garth Manor from HELL NIGHT is the same pad as the mansion from FLEETWOOD MAC's "Big Love" video!) It doesn't look like much has changed at the Smith Estate between 1964 and 1980 (SILENT actually began filming in 1977!), it's almost as if time has stood still. How appropriate is that?

Cat People (1982)

Posted on By unkle lancifer

Nearly every major genre picture let loose in the early eighties regardless of its original reception has seemed to have garnered classic status at this point. Not so much PAUL SCHRADER's 1982 feline fantasia CAT PEOPLE. It certainly has a devout following of sorts but you are unlikely to bump into many horror gadflies sporting its iconography on a T-shirt at a convention. Kitty doesn't carry much "cool" cache and who or what's to blame?

I guess the puss-centric title alone can never impress onlookers with one's endurance mettle and what's the point of horror fandom if you're not theoretically upsetting oldsters with your wardrobe and accessories? As far as I see it, CAT PEOPLE is one of the more fascinating flicks to spring out of its era and although it's a remake of a popular work, there's no denying its sharp originality and sometimes bizarrely personal vision. It's further proof as if we needed any, that PAUL SCHRADER knows a thing or two about obsession (see also: TAXI DRIVER) and transformation (see also: MISHIMA: A LIFE IN FOUR CHAPTERS.)

Is the premise ridiculous or is there simply no place in the world for a fantasy film aimed at adults? Irena Gallier (severely beautiful NASTASSJA KINSKI) ventures to post card perfect New Orleans to reunite with her long lost brother Paul (a bristled MALCOLM McDOWELL). She entrances zoo keeper Oliver (JOHN HEARD), complicates matters for his pal with benefits Alice (the only believable competition for KINSKI, ANNETTE O'TOOLE) and along the way learns that like her brother, having sex turns her into a crazy murderous panther. Some folks get up in arms declaring that the film expresses a fear of female sexuality but I think that pretty much ignores the obvious fact that Paul, Irena's brother has the same meow-glitch. Paul's solution to the perils of panther-gasm is that he and his sister keep it on the down low with some incest since by the way, their parents were siblings too! Now if you get all hung up on incest ick factor you'll miss what I think is the film's central issue; Irena is essentially being told that she can either follow family sanctioned sexual tradition or become a monster.

I am a huge fan of the 1942 version of CAT PEOPLE too. Produced by VAL LEWTON and directed by JACQUES TURNER, the original stands high above its peers in its grasp of psychology and is an extraordinary exercise in quiet manipulation. The remake attracts grief for upping the gore and nudity ante but to pretend that those elements negate what's interesting about the rest of the film is just all kinds of lazy. Just because a gal frequently finds herself in a nude mood doesn't mean she's not deep. Irena spends the lion's share of the film developing a way to free herself from others, particularly her family's expectations (as represented by a gnarled and ominous tree). She yearns to break free from tradition, to explore an ill-advised union with Oliver but picket fences just aren't in the tarot deck. The inescapable tragedy of the matter is made clear when she receives advice from the jailed (also caged) "Female" (rhymes with tamale), her brother's once caretaker/enabler played by the great RUBY DEE, "Live as he (Paul) did, never love, pretend the world is as men think it is." She then adds for good measure "It doesn't matter where you go."

No, it doesn't matter where Irena goes, as the ultimate dilemma is herself. Her soul may desire whatever it wants but the mechanics of her body have final say. What SCHRADER is really interested in, I think, is the war between predatory (Paul) and romantic (Irena) love and there's a whole lot at stake when Irena, at least for a while (the pool scene), seems to have gone to her brother's side of the yard. (Speaking of family, the scenes of Irena stalking her rival Alice illustrate NASTASSJA's ability to summon her father's vampiric leer at will.)

I suppose there are many reasons to drop out of CAT PEOPLE and become a non fan: the pacing is a bit off, there's many a false climax and it does lose its footing here and there but really you're loony if you can't enjoy the sight of KINSKI simply pouncing about New Orleans in its prime to a GIORGIO MORODER score. That's not even mentioning the beautifully realized dream landscapes and the awesome sight of ED BEGLEY JR.'s arm being ripped from his shoulder. You'll never find quite the gumbo mentioned above in any other movie, I promise. I guess the whole panther transformation bit can come across as silly but humanized animals are a staple when it comes to fables and that just happens to be exactly CAT PEOPLE's turf.

A Reflection of Fear (1973)

Posted on By unkle lancifer

Have I ever started a review with "Where has such and such a movie been all my life?' because I shoulda and coulda done it here. I'm not entirely sure how I would have responded to A REFLECTION OF FEAR if I had seen it at a younger age but I do know that it currently has all the markings and behavior of a pet movie I'd like to wrap in a blanket and deliver a saucer of milk. A cluttered mansion, a barely tolerable protagonist, psycho-sexual family skeletons falling out of the woodwork, a shadow faced killer on a rampage and a malevolent talking doll. It's like THE ATTIC and PIN had a baby out of wedlock and I get to adopt it! REFLECTION is based on a novel by (DELORIS) STANTON FORBES and yes, I already ordered a copy and made sure it was plenty used and lived in a library. Hopefully it will be so moldy that I nearly suffocate while enjoying it.

Ethereally yet confidently directed by WILLIAM A. FRAKER the cinematographer of ROSEMARY'S BABY (!), REFLECTION introduces us to an unsung psycho sister of Norman Bates named Marguerite. Koo-koo, microscope-obsessed doll collecting Marguerite is played by SONDRA LOCKE and wholly crap is it a performance. Pale and fluttering like a sun-bleached sheet on a clothesline, she still manages to dominate anyone in her vicinity. No small feat when ROBERT SHAW is on the guest list. Young Marguerite has led a sheltered existence that has given birth to an intricate universe within her head. She barely exists at all but struts like a deity before her menagerie of dolls and the amoeba caught beneath her owl gaze. When Marguerite's long lost father (SHAW) bounces into town with fiancée SALLY KELLERMAN on his arm, folks start getting beaten to death by a killer who wields a wooden plank like a possessed Punch puppet. The actual reveal of the mystery killer will hardly leave you doing a spit take but the way the material is handled is seriously haunting regardless.

I've always thought the scariest part of 1973's DON'T BE AFRAID OF THE DARK was the eerie conspiratorial bookend whispers. REFLECTION carries a similar unearthly vocal element when dealing with Marguerite's once treasured now vanquished doll Aaron (voiced by GORDON ANDERSON whose lone other voicing credit is that of the titular RATBOY in LOCKE's directorial debut). REFLECTION's PG rating, which it apparently endured many cuts to achieve, may leave it relatively dry in the flowing blood department but it continues to gush with the steady flow of genuine creeps. Really, this film, which sat on the shelf for two years, is a perfect example of the type of fear derived not from violence or bloodshed but from the unease that something generally wrong and unnatural is about to take place. I wasn't shocked by its ending (man, do I want to ruin it) but I was genuinely disturbed and left with a feeling of unbalance. There are few choppy holes and the action jumps around in a way that left me unclear a few times but the one-two punch of LOCKE's performance and FRAKER's sometimes placid and dreamy, sometimes rabid and unruly direction overpowers all. Everybody who knew about this movie and didn't tell me about it, I am now officially mad at you.

Mimic 3: Sentinel (2003)

Posted on By unkle lancifer

I have another LANCE HENRIKSEN log to throw on the blogothon fire. Truth be told, this movie involves more of a supporting role for HENRIKSEN but I can't let the chance of speaking about MIMIC 3: SENTINEL pass me by. I know what you're thinking, the world of straight-to-DVD sequels, particularly those dispensed by DIMENSION FILMS, is a treacherous one. Why would anyone give this film a chance when even the first film in the series was hobbled by massive studio interference? I don't know how this happened but somebody actually allowed director/writer J.T. PETTY (SOFT FOR DIGGING, THE BURROWERS) to do his own thing and retain his own voice and the result is a film with strong enough legs to crawl on its own. Many MIMIC fans apparently disagree. The knee jerk desire for "bigger, stronger, faster!" is just too strong to break. For myself though, I can only admire this micro-budgeted, limited setting, psychological thriller with a purposeful pace. It's as if FRANZ KAFKA did a rewrite of REAR WINDOW.

Obvious action elements are buried in the dust from the start when we are introduced to the sickly and paranoid Marvin Montrose. He's as twitchy as a bug and actor KARL GEARY's offbeat idiosyncratic performance may even bring to mind JEFF GOLDBLUM's work in THE FLY. Marvin is a survivor of the disease mentioned in the first film and it has left him allergic to nearly everything in his environment. Homebound due to his condition, he connects to the outside world through photography, snapping shots at the slices of life he spies from his window. The city hums like a hive all around him but Marvin is trapped in amber, his only consistent contacts being his Mother (AMANDA PLUMMER…score!) and his scamp of a younger sister (ALEXIS DZIENA, have I ever mentioned how much I enjoy 05's HAVOC?) From his perch, Martin begins to observe suspicious activity in the urban arena that involves giant looming insectoid creatures chomping on passersby and a mysterious "garbage man" portrayed by our man HENRIKSEN. The police are as much as help as ever and Marvin is is forced to confront the beasties with his very limited powers and resources.

SENTINEL takes its time and perhaps I'm a dying breed, but I welcome that. Much like PETTY's later flick THE BURROWERS, the film holds back on the firework show until the viewer has been properly initiated. When things go down, they go down hard and the aggressiveness is all the more shocking thanks to its previous scarcity. There are a slew of interesting ideas scattering about concerning the act of "seeing" in general. We understand Marvin's outlook on the world through his photography. Much of what we observe is through his camera and eventually the line between viewer and subject blurs. When Marvin does finally put his camera down, we suddenly find ourselves watching him from afar through a lens as he once watched others. Trust me, there's more infesting this movie than giant mutant bugs. As much as Martin attempts to look past his situation it seems the shadows from his childhood (the roach/man personifications of his disease) keep knocking at the front door of his shoebox home.

As I said before HENRIKSEN's role is relatively brief, but he does make a strong impression as usual. Like PLUMMER, it's always good to see him in anything. As they say, there's no such thing as a small part…unless of course you count the part of that kid who gets ripped to shreds in the first three minutes of this movie. If you're looking for spectacle, than feel free to watch one of those cars that turn into robots movies instead. Tell that bumble bee-thingy I said, "Hi." MIMIC 3: SENTINEL goes against the grain in a way that is refreshing, taking an expansive story and bringing it home and personalizing it. PETTY smartly stays within his means, focuses on characters and setting and presents a story much more insular and involved than anyone would suspect. I mentioned that this film is small but the miraculous thing is that as you watch it keeps getting smaller and smaller until finally the action is taking place in about 3 feet of space. The final confrontation with the menace that takes place from within a refrigerator still makes me flinch and jump and its flashes of absolute blackness allow the mind to reel. Talk about mimicry, this movie is an absolute keeper running around in the shell of a throwaway. Don't fall for the Camouflage.

NOTE: This post is part of the LANCE HENRIKSEN BLOGATHON! Jump on over to JOHN KENNETH MUIR's REFLECTIONS ON FILM AND TELEVISION for lots more HERE!

Pumpkinhead (1988)

Posted on By unkle lancifer

If I'm such a big fan of LANCE HENRIKSEN why is it that I always seem to dread or avoid watching PUMKINHEAD? A big heavy stone sinks slowly down the well of my stomach just thinking about it. I've always assumed that because the plot of the film springboards off of the heartbreaking death of a child that I considered it too emotionally taxing for a casual view. That would make sense but that never stopped me from throwing PET SEMETARY on multiple times over the years. The little boy in PUMPKINHEAD's motorbike mishap is no more tragic than Gage Creed's Mack Truck flattening and I think I know which vehicle I'd rather be smashed by. Sitting myself down and forcing a revisit with PUMPKINHEAD recently made it all suddenly so clear to me. The fact is, this movie conjures up an emotion that I find much more difficult to deal with than fear or sorrow, it conjures up (quite literally even) anger. It's about nothing, if not anger.

The role of Ed Harley fits HENRIKSEN like a well-worn, workman's glove. Ed runs a small back road store. A humble sign declares "Harley's Groceries" and it's all kinds of charming when you notice the sign has been personally updated by hand to include "And Son." Ed is raising his young child Billy (MATTHEW HURLEY) on his own and, in a handful of brief scenes, it is made clear that the two have an exceptionally close bond. In fact, we get the idea that ALL they have is each other and it suites them both just fine. Billy is not your typical movie kid either, meaning he's not obnoxious; rather he comes across as sweet, humbly happy and a bit self conscious about the fact that he has to wear glasses. He dotes on his beloved dog in the same manner his dad dotes on him.

Enter the douchebags and I'm already starting to feel my blood boil; a group of arrogant, self-entitled twentysomething "city folk" roll on to the scene like they own the place bringing with them their loud stupid asshole motorbikes. They have a ringleader who's meant to be the biggest dick in the bunch but I seriously hate them all. This is actually the one weakness of the film for me, as it would really help the "horror" element if there were a single person in this group who I did not want to see mercilessly torn to shreds.

When Ed leaves Billy in the store to run an errand (Ed would NEVER do that but whatever) Billy gets smooshed by a moron's bike while chasing after his pooch. Ed returns to find his son splayed out in the grass and then, as he carries his broken body back towards the store, the lone remaining dumbass asks if he can help. It is at this point that LANCE HENRIKSEN throws a glare that is the absolute highlight of the movie for me. This guy can act. I can feel the vibrations of that laser beam hate stare as I write this now. Forget the titular creature, HENRIKSEN can dispatch an army of vengeance demons out of his peepers whenever he desires.

Filled with fury Ed tracks down a local witch to aid him in his revenge against the callus cretins who robbed him of his world. He has grown up hearing stories of a demon that can be summoned to balance the scales and has no trouble believing them as he once witnessed the creature bitch slapping a luckless victim as a child. Once activated, the demon operates like a speeding freight train of ruthless retaliation and cannot be stopped. The witch advises that one must simply wait for it to "run its course."

Unlike me, Ed eventually begins to have second thoughts about his choice of actions. He realizes as the line between himself and the monster blur that he is losing himself little by little to the manifestation of his anger. One of the film's poster taglines read "A grim fairy tale." And that sums up PUMPKINHEAD rather nicely. Although the opening is very much grounded in the real world once night falls we're strolling on the pages of a storybook. This is a morality tale about the price paid when we allow ourselves to be taken over by hate. I get that I really do but all things considered I still say sign me up.

PUMPKINHEAD is an impressive directorial debut from the late STAN WINSTON, one of the most talented men ever to work in the field of make-up and special effects. Cinematographer BOJAN BAZELLI would go on to help craft another visually stunning horror tale, 2002's THE RING. Although it wasn't a huge success upon original release, PUMPKINHEAD's reputation has solidified over the years and it's easy to identify it now as one the stronger and more original (not to mention atmospheric) horror films of its decade. If you ever find yourself cozying up to CGI, I would suggest checking out PUMKINHEAD again to remind yourself just what is being lost. The effect of Pumpkinhead himself is a joy to behold and it's obvious that WINSTON knew exactly how to present the beast to his best advantage.

No special effect however, can outshine LANCE HENRIKSEN's performance. It's absolutely impossible not to be moved by the pain he expresses on screen and this role gives him a chance to expose an earthy nurturing side that apparently comes naturally to the guy. I stand pleased now that I figured out exactly why I have been quietly keeping my distance from this movie for years. I hate to see HENRIKSEN suffer to this extreme. It really pisses me off.

NOTE: This post is part of the LANCE HENRIKSEN BLOGATHON! Jump on over to JOHN KENNETH MUIR's REFLECTIONS ON FILM AND TELEVISION for lots more HERE!

Scream 4

Posted on By unkle lancifer

The WES CRAVEN directed SCREAM 4 gets off to a rocky (Is this a SCREAM or SCARY MOVIE sequel?) start with a parade of patience pushing film-within-film parodies concerning personality free white girls left alone in personality free white houses. The joke aims to poke fun at the redundancy of sequels but comes across more as the pot texting the kettle to call it black. Let's just say DREW BARRYMORE's savage demise in the first flick needn't ever sweat about being dethroned as the strongest opening in the series. Happily though, once the marshmallow fluff commencement scene is scraped from SCREAM 4's windshield the movie plows forward and starts getting down to business and that business centers on characters with plenty of mileage on them in a setting we've been kept away from far too long, the town of Woodsboro.

Series survivor and "celebrity victim" Sidney Prescott (NEVE CAMPBELL) is back in her hometown on a book tour supporting her well received self-help tome "Out of the Darkness". Dutiful Dewey (DAVID ARQUETTE) has graduated to town sheriff and his once tigress wife Gale (COURTNEY COX) currently climbs the walls of her suburban cage declawed and uninspired. The audience and the denizens of Woodsboro are well aware that Sidney's homecoming can only mean one thing, that a new batch of grisly murders are about to ensue. It's notable that Sidney has mellowed to the point of accepting her lot in life. The reality is that no amount of ass-kicking will ever transform Prescott into a warrior/ hero. It's common knowledge that she's a cursed figure, an "Angel of death" who is followed by a wave of blood wherever she goes. She can attempt to write herself "out of the darkness," but it's only a matter of time before KEVIN WILLIAMS or worse, EHREN KRUGER writes her back in.

SCREAM 4 overloads its plate with zeitgeist gruel. Besides forcing the usual useless reductive "rules" down our throats, it blasts the current plethora of horror remakes, notes the rise of facebook and twitter and finishes things off with a somewhat biting critique of the ever-blurring line between unearned notoriety and legitimate fame. All of that is well and good, if not particularly fresh. Perhaps the movie itself is trapped in the same schema as once-was character Gale, desperately trying to convince itself of its own relevancy and meanwhile needlessly overlooking its own obvious natural charms. The movie battles with itself, tossing about terms like "meta" and "self aware" while struggling to find a balance between the then and the now. It wants to come to terms with its own age, to find meaning in its characters' struggles, to define the difference between "old" and "mature," but someone keeps forcing it to make stale celebrity jokes. (The idea that someone might sacrifice their last moments on Earth to utter an out of place punch line I'm assuming came from the aforementioned KRUGER who contributed a script "polishing". I've decided to indiscriminately scapegoat the guy for everything that smacks of hack in the film.)

More shocking than the truly surprising killer reveal in SCREAM 4 is the fact that I loved it regardless of it faults and I don't mind saying it's my favorite since the first. It's not exactly terrifying but it is suspenseful and goddamn it, I love sequels…especially slasher sequels. You can just carve that on my tombstone so there's no mistake. Sequels offer us a chance to observe characters as they change and grow and the decade plus fermenting period between SCREAMs 3 and 4 allow a type of novel ripening not witnessed since HALLOWEEN H20 (also penned by KEVIN WILLIAMS). If you ask me, age compliments the trio of SCREAM regulars well. Sidney has stopped wincing and rubbing her neck, Dewey has shed his mascot persona and Gale has grown into and certainly earned her trademark crankiness. Sid's annoying "specialness" is addressed (and then some) as is Gale's inability to garner appreciation for her invaluable contribution to the saga. SCREAM 4 picks up all the trash that SCREAM 3 impolitely left on the picnic table and that alone makes me a happy camper. Indeed, when we finally uncover the person or persons responsible for the new batch of knife slaughter they dump a bowl of crazy on the floor that easily rivals that which graced the first installment.

Being a bitter hater, the one thing I was not looking forward to (besides enduring a freshening-up on the always spurious "rules") was getting to know the new younger generation cast. Call it Cousin Oliver Syndrome but I'm always a bit skeptical when youngins are trotted out and expected to be welcomed into the fold without question. Imagine my surprise when EMMA ROBERTS as Sid's young cousin turned out to be one highly memorable and multilayered slasher "good girl" and HEROES' HAYDEN PANNETTIERE, with her raspy voice and Peter Pan hair cut, nearly walked away with the entire film. As messy as some of the generational collisions are executed, these two stand outs (particularly plucky PANNETTIERE) really add a nice dose of effervescent energy to counteract the grounded, near melancholia of the adult players. Faring far less well is MARY MCDONNELL taking over for a "Count me out!" LAUREN GRAHAM in the uncoveted role of "Mom who gets stabbed after bringing in groceries." (Please tell me she has a deleted scene somewhere that explains why she exists.)

So, SCREAM 4, is a crazy stew of missed opportunities, sometimes trite dialogue and random pointless characters that also miraculously yields a powerfully enthralling villain reveal, some genuine intestine enhanced bloodshed, several good jolty scares and a rare chance to visit with characters that have gotten even more interesting with age and even a few snappy new ones. It may have two left feet under its robe at points but at least there's nothing as alarmingly embarrassing as certain moments in Parts 2 and 3. (Unless of course you count the clunky BRUCE WILLIS joke.) Most importantly, it does finally offer up one golden glorious "rule" that can actually be put to good use… "Don't fuck with the original." There's a better movie begging to break free for sure and I don't blame LAUREN GRAHAM for jumping on the first bus out of town, but I'm certainly happy I got to spend some time in Woodsboro again.

Night Gallery Tale :: Brenda

Posted on By unkle lancifer

I just caught another NIGHT GALLERY segment that I found just as intriguing as the brilliant "Silent Snow, Secret Snow." It's not particularly scary but it ended up building a little nest of perplexed disquiet in my head anyway. It's called "Brenda" and it is the second half of the seventh episode of season two. It's based on a short story by female sci-fi author MARGARET ST. CLAIR. I point out her gender because during a time when most female genre writers hid behind gender neutral pen names, Margaret was all like, "Aw hells no!"



"Brenda" is about a fruit loop named Brenda who could write a book called "How to Lose Friends and Aggravate People." The girl is a brat, such a brat that she purposely destroys a sandcastle and not just any sandcastle, mind you, but a sand castle constructed by America's sweetheart PAMELYN FERDIN. Who the hell is obnoxious enough to do that? Brenda is, that's who! Although I somewhat hate Brenda, her zero concern about popularity and the perceptions of others I find absolutely thrilling to behold. Actress LAURIE PRANGE is way too old to be playing the part but that just makes her behavior appear more outrageously asinine and underlines the aggravated arrested development that fuels the tale.

One day while strolling in the woods and basking in her own awfulness, Brenda bumps into a creature more horrific than herself, is frightened and then profoundly captivated. In fact, she meets my all time favorite type of monster, a shambling pile of mossy tethers who skulks around like Bigfoot. I love swamp monsters! I'm not sure if it stems from the KOLCHAK "Spanish Moss Murders" episode, D&D, or SCREAMS OF A WINTER NIGHT but my admiration is such that I have painted many a portrait of these amorphous archetypal beasts. In other words, Brenda and I are remarkably on the same page at this point of the story. At first Brenda traps the creature in a giant hole and sparks a realization that everything going on here kind of resembles the Kinder-fave movie entitled THE PIT (1981). Eventually she aids in its escape and devilishly leaves her front door open so that the weird thing can follow her home and terrorize her parents in the middle of the night. Hey, I'm starting to like this girl!

After a night of wreaking somewhat passive havoc across the island community Brenda and her parents are vacationing in, the monster goes back to the pit, covers itself in a stony cocoon and hits the hay. Brenda is heartbroken by the creature's retreat and the knowledge that her family will be splitting soon and may never return. Seasons come and go, a year passes and Brenda returns more mature and less impish and scampy. You'll find no shocker twist here, just Brenda hugging the stones that represent her once animated friend and declaring her eternal love and affection. I don't know what to think except that the monster is a physical representation of the self-alienated Brenda's charged relationship with her own crazy imagination. It goes into hibernation as she becomes more adult but she is thankful and secure in the knowledge that it lies waiting if needed.

In a way I feel this entry is a perfect companion piece to the previously mentioned "Silent Snow, Secret Snow"; I can't be 100% sure about the address of its final destination but I know it's on the corner of Lonely Lane and Insanity Street. I love this type of horror/fantasy storytelling; it backs up my theory that if you want to learn what it means to be human, your best source of information is a monster.

Scream-a-thon!

Posted on By unkle lancifer

It's easy for me to forget how much I was rooting for SCREAM to be a success when it was released way back in 1996. I recall WES CRAVEN and DREW BARRYMORE doing the talk show rounds and I was there on opening day. I watched as it climbed the charts in ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY and its word-of-mouth staying power victory felt like a personal justification of sorts. The slasher film had finally risen from the grave just as I always hoped and prayed that it would.

One day I had to realize that the Audrey 2 plant I was pointlessly watering was towering over me. The publicity machine behind SCREAM was insatiable and ubiquitous. Eventually I awoke to every borderline personality fan boy nightmare, my lil' pet movie was undeniably and irrevocably mainstream! Worse still, it had no interest in me and my nerd-flavored goodwill; it was courting a generation younger than me right in front of my face! It was like when Marcia Brady helped that wallflower out only to have the dickens surpass and usurp her. SCREAM wasn't revitalizing my youth anymore it was pillaging it! What the hell was I getting out of this relationship? SCREAM was happy as a clam. I felt old and betrayed.

Then the wannabe clones arrived, each more vacant and dunderheaded than the last. They marched in wearing Urban Outfitter uniforms, their faces scrubbed and personality free. Smelling a market, Hollywood opened a cage and out they slinked each Friday with posters Photoshopped into oblivion with death scenes fluffier than MATLOCK. I started to hate the floozy named SCREAM, the two faced harlot, the instigator of mediocrity, the murderer of horror! Oh SCREAM, it wasn't your fault. I had no right to claim you as my own. I'm sorry that I was secretly gleeful when your third outing turned out to be lamer than even I could imagine. That was the end of the millennium. Things were different back then and I'm ashamed at how easily I had forgotten just how original and refreshing SCREAM was upon first discovery.

Sometimes you just need a little distance. You need to clean your palate. You need to let other horror cycles take hold, eclipse, turn sour and fade away. It's been a long time since I've gotten together with this past mercurial love. I think we did catch up a couple years ago and it was pleasant enough but nothing passionate. Yet there's something in the air now, is it spring? I actually do feel a kindling spark of sorts still burning for what once was; both SCREAM and I are older now. Maybe it's time for a new type of understanding to develop…

SCREAM (1996)

I have to admit this movie still has it going on in all the right places. The mystery of what's under its hood has long been discovered but the opening scene still packs a bittersweet wallop. CRAVEN does more than simply unnerve with DREW's inaugural attack, there is such a lovely tragic element to it as well. Armed with KEVIN WILLIAMS' slightly overrated, yet inarguably innovative script, CRAVEN the director is at the height of his powers. There's hardly a superfluous moment anywhere and the whole ride has a wonderfully smooth yet forceful momentum. Unlike many of its imitators, SCREAM looks crisp and clean without being too slick and losing its gravity supplying sense of the natural and every day. (Sadly director of photography MARK IRWIN and CRAVEN parted ways after SCREAM but funnily enough IRWIN did go on to do SCARY MOVIE 3.) So much of the look of SCREAM has been duplicated and parodied that it is easy to forget just how handsome a film it is. Maybe I'm just a sucker for grassy hills and sunsets.

SCREAM of course is famous for being self-referential and for pointing out at every turn the tropes and "rules" theoretically ingrained in slasher films. Personally many of the assumptions repeated about those films I find to be debatable broad clichés that limit our understanding of the genre. Having said that I think that I sometimes woefully miss the undeniable truth that SCREAM, in its heart of hearts, is a love letter and a reverent shrine to slasher movies and cinema in general and for that I want to kiss it all over its ghost mask. Really has one movie ever had a boner for another movie the way SCREAM has a boner for JOHN CARPENTER's HALLOWEEN? There's a big difference between tribute and condescension and although SCREAM's playfulness can grate at times, it's not the facetious lark I sometimes falsely remember it as. The truth is that even though it can be way too name-droppy and quipy for its own good, it does under its conventional mall-approved smile hide a genuinely perverse sadomasochistic streak.

I came away from watching SCREAM again with two major revelations: the first is that as far as "final girls" go I'm not the biggest Sidney Prescot fan. Her "sexual anorexia" and morbid martyrdom papers are in order but as portrayed by the perpetually strained NEVE CAMPBELL I find her difficult to believe and strangely unsympathetic. "I'm sorry if my traumatized life is an inconvenience to your perfect existence!" she spews and I just kind of want to wring her neck. Whereas most "final girls" have walked anonymously alone with survival their only reward, Sydney has the attention and concern of her entire community and it just kind of irks me. Plus I think partying on the one-year anniversary of your mother's brutal death is tacky. Stranger than my newfound ambivalence toward Sid is my newfound, heart-eyed affection for the refreshingly direct persona of Gale Weathers (COURTNEY COX). I'm not happy about this development either but there it is. For me, Weathers is the most entertaining character in the lot and I appreciate that her disposition atypically softens rather than hardens. I know she is supposed to be a callous careerist but at least she can finish a sentence without a pop culture reference.

Even though Sidney Prescott affection eludes me I don't have a hard time recognizing SCREAM's classic status. It sets out to turn expectations on their head and it succeeds. Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of the series is its ability to stand without a consistent killer in its spine. The monster in SCREAM is fluid, an empty shell identity that any person or persons can inhabit. While we are here, why not let us take a cursory peak at the sequels that followed…

SCREAM 2 (1997)

The opening kill in SCREAM 2, set at a premiere for a film based on the events in the first movie not only kicks the meta to a new level but perfectly captures the excitement and enthusiasm that surrounded the bourgeoning franchise at the time. I'd love to give the series some props for confronting criticisms that it presented an all white universe by including African Americans in the sequel, but since every black character shown is presented the exact same way I'm not sure I can. Be that as it may this is a sequel that does a fine enough job of transporting the working elements of the previous installment into semi-fresh terrain. There is one scene that I always dread though. I live in fear of JERRY O'CONNELL singing, "I think I love you" on the cafeteria table. It upsets me more than any death in the entire series. I find it too embarrassing to withstand and I have to look away and cover my ears. Other than that, it's mostly gravy. Sidney as "Cassandra" somehow works and I'm all about LAURIE METCALF & BUFFY. No matter its over bloated nature, I can't say this installment isn't fun.

SCREAM 3 (2000)

A huge step down for sure but I remember part three being a lot worse than it actually is. If the revelation of the killer was not so humdrum it might have been almost good. SCREAM 3 transports the action to Hollywood, which adds an alienating, navel-gazing atmosphere that the series could have done without. Cameos from the Weinstein stable in the form of Jay and Silent Bob set the tin ear tone. Dead Randy (JAMIE KENNEDY) showing up via videotape to spout complete gibberish as trilogy dogma and an initially amusing turn from PARKER POSEY that nosedives into screechy, flailing-armed stoogery don't help matters much. Ironically the strongest element may involve Sidney finally digging into the dirt of her dilemma rather than looking down at it from miles above. Again I think that the character of Gale Weathers secretly holds the shindig together and her relationship with Dewey resonates as the closest thing to known human reality in the film. At this point SCREAM seems to have lost track of its horror roots and is happy operating as an ensemble version of MURDER SHE WROTE. Guns and explosions reign supreme and you may find yourself begging for anything that even remotely resembles the inspired garage door kill from the first film.

SO NOW….

I'm totally psyched for the fourth installment. I know that may sound disingenuous after what I just said but I can't help it. I don't care that I hate and despise certain elements of the SCREAM series; for the most part it's wicked nifty and I'm now, against my better judgment, grossly invested in the characters once more. Will my tolerance of Sidney continue to grow? What the hell's going on with Gale and Dewey, I have to know! (Man, I wonder what kinda fucked up haircut Gale is going to sport this time…) I just hope that a lesson has been learned from past mistakes and from the litany of films that tried to duplicate SCREAM's initial success and failed. The blurb that seemed to attach itself like a barnacle to the poster art was "Clever, Hip and Scary!" Do me a favor CRAVEN and company, don't worry so much about those first two adjectives and concentrate on that last one. If the best scene in your entire series ends up being forever the first one I'd call that a steady downhill slide.

NOTE: Stab me if you want to but yes, I do think TORI SPELLING played a superior Sidney Prescot! I'm not proud of that admission either!

Unk's Most Favorite Horror Scores

Posted on By unkle lancifer

UNK SEZ: I don't know if these are the best scores (Hey, where's Tubular Bells?!) but they are my personal favorites. Hope I didn't neglect too many! BTW, both TENTACLES and THE VISITOR just barely missed the cut!

SUSPIRIA (GOBLIN)

Let's just get this one taken care of immediately. How can any list of horror scores not include this madness? So big, so brazen it nearly kicks the movie itself right off the screen! No small feat!

BRAM STOKER'S DRACULA (WOJIECH KILAR)

A good score lets you know what's going down right off the bat. Sure this film is plenty romantic but KILAR's work makes sure you remember there's plenty of anger and vengeance seeping through its veins as well.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME (LANCE RUBIN)

LANCE RUBIN is not only the name of me after I marry JENNIFER RUBIN, but it is also the name of the guy who did the score for one of my favorite slashers. The music box combo of sweet and creepy weaves throughout the film and culminates in a memorable theme song sung by SYREETA! If RUBIN's work sounds a tad familiar it may be due to his talent lodging in another classic, MOTEL HELL!

PHANTASM (FRED MYROW & MALCOLM SEAGRAVE)

THE SHINING used to have this spot until I found out that most of its music is not original to the film. That's alright, I was feeling bad about leaving out PHANTASM anyway and now I don't have to. Listen to how sad it is! It sounds like the seventies and it sounds like rain and it makes me want to go on a tandem bicycle excursion with KAREN CARPENTER. Shit, that makes me think of THE ATTIC and how I should have put THE ATTIC in here as well. Damn self-imposed deadlines!

CAT PEOPLE (GIORGIO MORODER)

MORODER is the man and his soundtrack for PAUL SCHRADER's Meow Mix is something y'all need to get your paws on. Its influence is still felt to this day in fact, the band GOLDFRAPP recently admitted that their last album was strongly influenced by MORODER's efforts here! That's some staying power!

THE THING (ENNIO MORRICONE)

Wow. I guess you know you kind of rule when JOHN CARPENTER decides to hand over musical duties to you rather than tackling them himself. Well, MORRICONE is a legend and his minimalistic, heartbeat mimicking, icy cold contribution to CARPENTER's film fits like a snug glove.

PSYCHO II (JERRY GOLDSMITH)

Talk about big shoes to fill. (Not that anyone involved in the making of this sequel didn't have more than their work cut out for them.) JERRY GOLDSMITH pays homage to and follows trails paved by the great BERNARD HERRMANN but he adds something uniquely his own too. Almost as if in cahoots with ANTHONY PERKINS' performance, GOLDSMITH sways you toward the tragic and sympathetic side of Norman Bates' soul. Look out! Once in your head, very hard to evict!

CARRIE (PINO DONAGGIO)

Speaking of BERNARD HERRMANN, composer PINO DONAGGIO does a fine job of tipping his hat toward the guy too. Sure, screechy stabby violins will always owe a debt to PSYCHO but PINO brings an extraordinary sincere velvet dark melancholy to the table too. I know this score like the back of my hand and I love it even though some of the creepy church vibes bring back strange unwanted memories of the DAVEY AND GOLIATH show. Aw, that reminds me I should not have forgotten CARNIVAL OF SOULS on this list either! I'll just shove it in here. Cassie won't mind, er, I mean Carrie…

CANDYMAN (PHILIP GLASS)

Not everybody digs PHILIP GLASS but you have to admit that he's an inspired choice for the soundtrack to CANDYMAN. His signature repetitive synth blips reek of urban insect existence. I'm gonna rate this baby extra high on originality alone and for the simple fact that "Helen's Theme" may be one of the most beautiful things that ever happened to my ridiculous ears. Here be the proverbial bee's knees…

THE FOG (JOHN CARPENTER)

Number one score for me forever for sure. I know CARPENTER's HALLOWEEN theme will always shadow over his other fine work but the truth is, on an emotional level it can't really hold a candle to what he accomplishes with THE FOG score. Sometimes gentle, slight and ethereal, sometimes pounding like a primal alarm to flee. It does more than set the mood, it blankets you in the otherworldly and it does not let go as it pushes you further and further away from safety. To put it simply, THE FOG score sounds like a ghost story being told without words…

UNK SEZ: that's my top ten folks but wait I'm not done yet! Here are TWO EXTRA BONUS TRACKS!

My choice for outstanding opening theme song goes to ROSEMARY'S BABY by KRZYSTOF KOMEDA featuring MIA FARROW!

…And my choice for most annoying theme song goes to TOURIST TRAP! I love you TOURIST TRAP (and PINO DONAGGIO) but once I fell asleep with your DVD in the player and woke up to a menu screen playing this track over and over and I just about lost what little of my mind I had left.