Thanks to trauma-picture over achiever WATERSHIP DOWN many kiddies learned the hard way that not every animated movie is appropriate for all ages and psyches. But what about PLAGUE DOGS which is based on a book by the same author, RICHARD ADAMS and directed by the same director, MARTIN ROSEN? It can’t be as bad… just look at the theatrical poster that sports two adorable pooches frolicking with a happy helicopter! PLAGUE DOGS is sure to bring the fun, right? Well I hate to break it to you, but those doggies are not so much frolicking as they are running for their very lives. And that helicopter? It’s filled with evil experimenting scientists who want to squash man’s best friends as if they were bugs. Sure, the animation is gorgeous and the storytelling is intense and meaningful, but I really wouldn’t recommend it to anyone unless they were seriously prepared to crawl through the most depressing of trenches or had an extra box of Kleenex they simply had to plow through. Of all the hope shattering scenes supplied within, one stands out as being extra horrific and I mean King Kong sitting on Santa Claus horrific. In it a pleasant looking hunter calls to one of the dogs, the cute small one named Snitter. Will the hunter be a new friend? Will he take Snitter home and feed him? The dog runs to him with high hopes and expectations, but as he leaps to give the traditional doggie slobber greeting, he accidently steps on the hunter’s rifle’s trigger and oops….SHOOTS HIM IN THE FACE! I don’t know if you have ever shot someone in the face before but, take it from me, it can destroy a friendship! The poor doggie runs away confused and, I can say from experience, probably feeling a bit guilty as well. Don’t worry, there are more horrible atrocities waiting for him and his doggie pal around the corner. If you have a dog I think you should sit him down and force him to watch this movie, not only will he become extra grateful for his pampered lifestyle but he also just might learn a little thing about gun safety. Check out the devastation HERE.

On July 4th, 2008 one of my favorite authors Thomas M. Disch committed suicide. Widely known for his science fiction and poetry, Disch also wrote one of my personal favorite horror novels of all time, THE M.D. Although the subject of death came up a lot in his work, in my opinion, he was capable of being one of the most hilarious authors I have ever read. His much-anthologized short story “The Roaches” is a great example of that fact. The truth is Disch‘s creativity was so grand that there really was no lone genre that could contain it. When he took on children’s literature with THE BRAVE LITTLE TOASTER series, he not only created characters that many adults still keep in their hearts today, but he also put himself in the position to be recognized as a unintentional traumatizer as well. One scene from the animated film based on the book seemed especially created to set the jujubes flying. In it, our little toaster has an awful dream where he not only causes a fire but also is psychologically harassed by a hideous clown in firefighter gear that would give “Pennywise” pause. The dream continues with the lovable appliance hanging on for dear life above a bathtub before he awakens to understand none of it was real. THE BRAVE LITTLE TOASTER both as a movie and a book will remain a children’s classic that truly gets the wheels of the imagination spinning in a way that only Disch could achieve.  It’s sad that the author could not hang on as tight as that little toaster did, but who’s to say he’s not waking up from a bad dream himself right now. Come to think of it, that would be so very, very Disch.

Experience THE B.L.T.‘s bad dream HERE

RICHARD DONNER’s classic son of Satan film THE OMEN overflows with scenes high in trauma content. Priest ka-bobs, shrieking psycho monkeys and slow-mo-spinning decapitated heads rule the day. Even attempting simple household chores like watering one’s plants sadly results in smashed fish bowels and a trip to the emergency room. But that’s how it should be; nowhere in the bible does it say that the spawn of Satan is going to be carting a wagon full of marshmallow unicorns behind him. Out of all the scenes in DONNER’s Whitman Sampler of end of days atrocities, the one that stands out as the most KINDER-traumatic takes place at little Damien’s outdoor birthday party; a celebration whose festive spirit is crushed under the devil’s hoof.

Let’s face it, some folks are really pulling for Damien’s (HARVEY STEPHEN) future reign to be a success. One of those people is not-so-super nanny Mrs. Baylock (BILLIE WHITELAW). The first order of business is to get rid of Damien’s present nanny (fruit of JACK PALANCE’s loin, and RIPLEY’S BELIEVE IT OR NOT co-hostess, HOLLY PALANCE), so that bad Mrs. B can take her place and have a hand in raising the child. Enter demonic doggy. Demonic doggy, a handsome Rottweiler with sparkling eyes, appears to have the ability to influence a person’s decision making skills ala the son of Sam’s canine pal, but without all the chin music.

For the most part, this outdoor shindig seems to be a smashing success thanks to the Thorns being rich as hell. There’s a merry-go-round and even some cool mini rollercoaster thing I never found under my Christmas tree. You really couldn’t ask for better weather either, so it’s kind of a shame about what happens next. (Actually as horrible as the following events are, you just know that none of the guests could wait to get home to call their friends and relatives to tell them about how F-d up the well-to-do Thorn’s party was. “They ran out of plastic forks and…”)

Our mousey nanny, with more than a little nudging from demonic doggie, decides a much more memorable gift than the store bought kind could be bestowed upon little Damien by hanging herself like a human piñata out of a three story window. With the words “Look at me Damien, It’s all for you,” she takes one step forward and walks out into Kindertrauma history. A hanging nanny should be horrific enough, but THE OMEN, which for the most part, is a relatively restrained affair (sans that decapitation) just can’t resist adding a few extra turns of the satanic screw. In this case it’s not enough for nanny to simply hang and choke, horrifying the on-looking partygoers, she also has to swing backwards, destroy a perfectly good window and startle an unsuspecting indoor maid, who by rights should have been able to go about her daily dusting chores without any knowledge of this, the gift you cannot return.

It’s not so much the violence of the scene that we find horrifying but the glee in which it is performed. With the batting of a doggy eyelash we watch the nanny transform from “one of us” to “one of them”, a shiny happy sleeper agent with a Moonie grin. Rather than quietly going to her room and overdosing on sleeping pills, which would open the same opportunity for Baylock, she picks a spot where she is sure to be seen by all. It’s an act of true terrorism on the part of the devil (and DONNER). A public announcement that the happy family photo montage scenes (like the one that preceded this one) are officially over.

The only thing that needs to be said about the emotional devastation that this display causes is that one of the children at the party is actually shown seeking comfort from a clown (!). Many of the other guests simply look on expressionless, probably trying to figure out how much money the Thorn’s paid the nanny to perform that trick and wondering if she is available for Bar Mitzvahs. LEE REMICK understandably takes this moment to shield her son from the unsightliness, while simultaneously posing for the film’s advertising art, with a pleading expression on her face usually reserved for stained glass saints and porn stars.

All of this trauma-drama is doused in JERRY GOLDSMITH’s life ruining musical score and some weird uncanny bizarre sound effect that sounds like a faucet leaking in an echoey flying saucer. The one person who is nonplussed by the day’s events is little Damian who, by scene’s end, is shown waving a thank you to the rotten Rottweiler for giving his boring (and obviously very impressionable) nanny the pink slip, and creating a crack just large enough for good old Mrs. Baylock to slip through….

If you have never seen AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON then there is something seriously missing from your life. It’s only one of the best werewolf movies ever made and it is amazingly equal parts truly scary and darkly funny; the ending is a little too abrupt, but let’s not split wolf hairs. One scene that deserves to be singled out takes place during a dream within a dream, a device that in 1981 had not been exploited to oblivion yet by the NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET series. Our hero David Kessler (DAVID NAUGHTON) dreams that his entire family is massacred before his eyes by an extremely unfriendly band of machine-gun-toting Nazi monsters too hideous to describe. To add insult to not just injury but also slaughter, David’s little brother and pajama-clad sister were in the process of watching MISS PIGGY debate the value of violence in art on THE MUPPET SHOW when the attack begins. (If you’ve never see the movie, don’t worry, I haven’t ruined anything. The scene is so abrupt that it’s impossible to prepare yourself for it anyway.) Director JOHN LANDIS had been dreaming up this werewolf tale since he was a mere 19 years old, and this dream sequence reveals a fear that we all can relate to, a home invasion that endangers our entire family. The Nazi uniforms surely carry particular meaning for LANDIS though, being Jewish and born just 5 years after the end of World War 2. It’s no accident that a menorah, one of the oldest symbols of the Jewish faith can be seen being blasted away by one of the attackers before the scene’s close. By taking his own nightmare and throwing it up on the screen, LANDIS does in less than a minute what most directors fail to do in 90, he petrifies his audience. It’s a jolt of real horror and considering that it occurs in a place many consider to be the safest imaginable, the family living room, it’s all the more shocking. There is no way to hide behind the couch from the obvious tone of slapstick black humor involved either, (especially considering it’s proximity to barking mad dominatrix MISS PIGGY!) When mom and pop are blasted they fly backwards with absurd TEX AVERY force. This nightmare fantasy of the destruction of peace in a bourgeois home may be the worst thing imaginable, but I hardly think I’m the only horror fan who has rewound it again and again. LANDIS is actually playing hooky from the narrative, the scene being a dream has no consequence at all within the story. He quite simply presents you with the worst possible scenario he can think of, and departs before he is required to take responsibility for it. It may be sadistic (and masochistic) as hell, but that’s what Traumafessions are made of.

KINDER UPDATE:MIKE FISH reviews a new book on JOHN LANDIS over at our favorite hang out HORROR YEARBOOOK!