Category: Traumafessions

When I was around four or five years old I watched a movie called MAGIC starring ANTHONY HOPKINS. The plot, as I remember it, involves HOPKINS giving in to the will of his evil ventriloquist dummy after which murder and mayhem ensue. The visuals alone are enough to, even now, make me panic. The dark seventies era cinematography coupled with the hideously creepy dummy have warped me for life. I have nightmares of a dummy, dressed in his little tuxedo, walking around the house of his own volition ready to overpower me. Sometimes he is armed with a knife. Even while typing this letter, my heart rate has increased. Of course, once my older brothers discovered my irrational fear, they used it against me as much as they could. I can remember my older brother holding a ventriloquist dummy while chasing me around the house as I screamed and cried. Recently, when the movie DEAD SILENCE (about a woman and her creepy dolls) was released, I had to change the channel every time the commercial appeared on T.V. My psyche will never be the same.

UNK SEZ: Emily you are not alone in your distaste for ventriloquist dummies, many folks seem to share your point of view. For a quick overview of the cinematic history of these little wooden terrors, I suggest you check out the wonderfully named blog THE UNHEIMLICH. On the surface these tales seem akin to the killer doll sub-genre, but they actually have a consistent psychological subtext all their own. Often the ventriloquist dummy is used to represent the dark side of their master's nature, a shadow identity bent on gaining absolute control. Coincidentally, I recently came across just such a tale in the unlikeliest of places, in an episode of FANTASY ISLAND! The one and only ANNETTE FUNICELLO played the ventriloquist "Maryanne" whose meek personality begins to get overtaken by that of her brassy MAE WEST-talking, moxie-filled puppet named "Valerie" (I swear to God, I'm NOT making this up!). Bizarrely, Mr. Roarke's solution is to turn the doll into a real person and let the two cat-fight it out. After some crazy strobe light effects that include ANNETTE shooting lasers out of her eyes, the dummy turns into none other than the most beautiful woman in the galaxy, BATTLESTAR GALACTICA's MAREN JENSON, strangely clad in top hat and pantless tuxedo. Now alive, Val point blank informs Roarke that she means to kill Maryanne the first chance she gets. On evil Val's actual to-do-list, murdering Maryanne comes AFTER screwing Maryanne's boyfriend and humiliating her in front of a room full of swirling, laughing phantom faces like the kind found at the beginning of NIGHT GALLERY. Luckily, sweet Maryanne gets the upper-hand before "De plane!, de plane!" comes back to pick her up. I can't say the show was all that scary, but last night I made a vow to myself that Mr. Roarke must be honored as an Official Traumatizer in the near future. That guy is nuts!!!!!! Plus you all DO realize he's got some serious magical powers, right?

Special thanks to the second loveliest woman in the galaxy, Candace Vivian for taking this photo right off the T.V.!!! Candace is also a big fan of FANTASY ISLAND, but her favorite episode involves a shirtless JOHN SAXON and a conniving mermaid!
LOADS MORE DUMMIES:

Cool dummy pix swiped from HERE

In the "and you thought MADAME was scary" department:

It's 1979, and THE AMITYVILLE HORROR has just hit the theaters.  Being nine year olds, none of us are allowed to see it, but that doesn't keep us from endlessly discussing Satan-possessed houses.  One of my classmates is reading the paperback (strange parental logic---you can't see the movie, but you can read the book?).  The cover has the house all in red in one corner, the H points down into a devil's tail, and the kicker is "A TRUE STORY."  We're all sure our houses were possessed, and one of my friends insists that the eyes of Bo and Luke Duke on the DUKES OF HAZZARD poster in her room GLOW AT NIGHT!!

UNK SEZ: Dear Tracy, I read THE AMITYVILLE HORROR book when I was about 13 and all I can say is that it scared the living crap out of me. At that time I took the whole "true story" claim to be unquestionable. How could they put that on the cover if it wasn't true? As an adult I have come to the conclusion that even if the tales are false it does not matter. The fact that an entire family got murdered in their sleep there is scary enough and I don't care what anyone says, there is something terribly wrong with that house! All you gotta have is a pair of eyes to see that! I mean would you ever spend the night in a room that looks like this: How about this room? Would you even enter a room with a giant plush ladybug staring at you like that? Here's a painting of two of the DeFeo brothers. If you entered a home that had that painting on the wall wouldn't you politely inform the occupants that they were bat shit crazy and then exit immediately? Any dwelling that could consistently inspire its inhabitants to decorate in such a fashion is quite simply EVIL. CASE CLOSED! As far as that Duke boys poster with glowing eyes goes, that's not hard for me to imagine either. Any television show that could in anyway be even remotely responsible for the products shown below is not kosher in my book. Hazzard County... Amityville... abandon hope all ye who enter these damned locales! Speaking of glowing eyes, this photo was allegedly taken in the Amityville house AFTER all the shit went down when nobody was in the house...It looks just like one of those DeFeo kids don't it? I don't know if it's real, but I do know that glowing eyeballs on posters or on ghost kids is nature's little way of saying make like a banana and split! Worse still, you can see by the framed lion drawing to the right that the repulsive decorating curse indeed lives on!
Other glowing eyes you should be scared of:

Blake from THE FOG...

GEOFFREY LEWIS in SALEM'S LOT...

The guy in the FEAR NO EVIL POSTER and "Grouch" the cat...

And last, but not least, THE CURE!

The cover of the VHS for the movie FRIGHT NIGHT still sticks in my brain to this day as one of the scariest things ever to have existed ever. I've always been a horror movie fan, even as a little kid, and whenever we went to go rent movies, that aisle was always my first destination. But for some reason, the cover of FRIGHT NIGHT would stick out like this unwatchable terror: that swirling, foreboding cloud forming into a demonic face above a suburban house. I grew up in Phoenix, AZ, where we had like 5 storms a year, and the storms we did have were usually intense. So every time the sky would get dark and clouds would gather, the image of that ethereal monster face forming over my house was literally enough to send me running home in abject panic, no matter where I was or what I was doing. Needless to say, when I finally watched the movie as an adult, I was disappointed.

UNK SEZ: I remember the first time I saw that poster art for FRIGHT NIGHT on the soundtrack in a record shop. I knew I had to see that movie A.S.A.P. For some reason they eventually changed the VHS art to just a lone picture of a vamp, a real step down. And although the U.K.'s release of the sequel sported a cool take on the same cloud-ghoul hovering over an apartment building, for some reason in the states we got the lesser sexy vamp in a white cover. Even the campaign for 1988's RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD 2 knew a good thing when it saw it. That scream-y face cloud is either an homage or a direct rip off (maybe the same artist?) In any case, it rocks it just as hard.

If you think about it though, using overpowering skies to establish a mood of bigger forces at play and man's relative puny nature is nothing new. Just look at what these two kooky weirdo artists did…

UPDATE: Yikes! Here are some "real-life" scary cloud faces!!!

NOTE: Besides being an excellent trauma-confesser (remember Maneater?) Nat is a veritable renaissance man. If you would like to hire, stalk or oggle him in his natural habitat he can be located HERE.

I'm not officially a "Trekker" but I grew up with and enjoyed the original STAR TREK series and have been a science fiction fan since I've known how to read.  So, when I was in junior high and STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE came I was definitely hot to see it – it was right on the crest of the wave of spectacular sci-fi movies spawned by STAR WARS and promised to be a much needed updating of the franchise to give it the visual grandeur the characters and stories always deserved.

So, I plop myself down in the theater and the first few minutes are as promised: the visuals are great, the Enterprise has received a refit making it arguably the most beautiful starship in cinema history, and all the characters are back looking great and ready for action.  However, no sooner does Kirk arrive on board the Enterprise, a console blows up in the transporter room and two new crew members die during transport.  Now, anyone who's watched the show knows that death is nothing new to STAR TREK; Red Shirts go down like handfuls of popcorn throughout the series and in some episodes, whole planets get snuffed. But usually the on-screen deaths are quick and easy – "Ensign So-and-So" goes out in a flare of pretty green phaser light or "Yeoman Bazzfazz" gets poison plant darts in the chest or steps on an exploding rock.

Not so in STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE.

The unfortunate crew are turned into living Georges Braque paintings and they are apparently conscious the whole time because while Kirk and others are trying to save them they are *writhing* around in the transporter beam and SCREECHING LIKE BANSHEES WITH THEIR SACKS CAUGHT IN A THREE-PHASE SOCKET!! Grape-flavored Christ on a stick!  It's a good thing the rest of the movie moved along in such a sedate fashion because it took almost two hours for my heart rate to get back to normal after that.  Then it took a couple days to be able to get through the day without imagining what it would be like to have my eye socket displaced by my anus.  Sweet merciful Buddha, what a way to kick off a return to the world of STAR TREK!

UNK SEZ: SBD, one of the great things about that scene is that it relies on the viewer's imagination to supply the grotesque results of the teleportation blunder. When you consider that STAR TREK: THE MOTION PICTURE was directed by ROBERT WISE who proved himself a virtuoso in the art of cinematic suggestion and subtle audience manipulation with 1963's THE HAUNTING it's no surprise. Certainly the mind does reel at what the end result of having all your molecules scrambled up would actually be. WISE must have rightfully surmised that showing such a thing would turn off most viewers… but I guess he did not account for imaginations as strong as yours! (Really, SBD, an anus in your eye socket? Everything would look like crap!)

One might ask himself or herself how a simple song could be traumatizing. Well picture this, you are eleven-years-old just beginning your 6th grade year of junior high, intimidated being in a new environment, and the next thing you know your "old battle ax" of a gym teacher queues up "Sexual Healing" by MARVIN GAYE as you exercise. At this time the gym class was segregated girls and boys did not mix (The only exception was when they taught square dancing. Yes, you read that correctly, square dancing). However, we were all in the same building. I was embarrassed beyond belief to be doing the daily calisthenics with lyrics such as "Baby I'm hot just like an oven. I need some loving" playing in the background. I could just feel the eyes of creepy 8th grade guys watching me. You know the guys that have flunked so many times they are old enough to drive to junior high. This was not an isolated incident. This song was played during our calisthenics many times that year. To this very day, if I hear the beginning lyrics, "Get up get up get up get up. Wake up wake up wake up wake up," I scream and change the station if I am in the car. If I happen to be in a store when the song starts playing, I stifle my scream and leave immediately.  I suppose it is irrational after all these years to fear listening to this song, but I can't help myself.

P.S.: That year was tough music wise for me because "Mickey" by TONI BASIL was a hit, and that was a whole other can of worms. People to this day think it is funny to refer to that song when I tell them my name.

UNK SEZ: Oh, Mickster you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind…sorry I could not resist. Seriously, Mickster you opened the trauma gates with the mere mention of gym class alone. Obviously physical torture is not enough for some gym teachers. There are many who feel the the need to utilize Abu Ghraib-style psychological break down methods as well. As Mr. Gaye himself sang "What's going on?" Honestly, I can't blame you for grudging on that nearly X-rated musical demand for immediate gratification. It's like, simmer down, Mr. Gaye, wear green on Thursday much? Sheez. To be fair, poor Marvin's tragic fate of being shot and killed by his brain tumur suffering father meant he never lived long enough to be introduced to the Divinyl's take charge, DIY solution "I touch myself" Very sad, very sad indeed.

I was about 14 years old.  I used to babysit the kids who lived across the creek from me. The creek was large enough that I had to canoe across it, maybe 40 feet wide and about 6 to 7 feet deep.  I babysat these kids regularly, sometimes as late at 2:00 a.m.  I'd paddle over in the daylight, and I'd paddle back in the darkness.

I then made the poor choice of riding my bike to the neighborhood theater with my friend and watching FRIDAY THE 13TH.  Yes, we were underage, but it was the neighborhood theater and we knew all the ins and outs of sneaking in to R-rated movies.

The movie horrified me. But it didn't really connect with me until that final scene where Jason comes out of the lake and pulls the lone survivor in.  That was it.  I was traumatized for life.

The next weekend I had to paddle over to watch those children.  The trip over was fine, in a sense.  It was daylight, but I still had Jason in the back of my mind.  I somehow convinced myself I would be able to paddle back without any issues.

1:30 a.m. approached and the parents came home.  It was time for me to go back to my home… in the canoe.

I walked to the canoe that was tied to the bank.  I looked to the black water.  I didn't want to go out there.  I was terrified.  My senses were at full alert.  I could see the silhouette of my house.  The window to my parents bedroom was dimly lit as my parents always fell asleep with the T.V. on.  I hoped they would randomly look out the window to watch me, as if that could help.

I slowly crawled into the canoe.  I untied the rope and grabbed my paddle.  I stuck it in the water very slowly, and gently pulled myself through the water trying not to attract any attention.  I was half way to the dock.  Ripples of water projected from the paddle due to my hands shaking.  I was almost there.

I then heard a thud and felt something hit the canoe.  I was in tears. I looked into the water and saw a round black mass floating next to me. It was somebody's head.  I was almost sure it was somebody's head.

I poked it with the paddle and it just bobbed in the water.  I jabbed the paddle into the water and began to paddle home as fast as my arms could move.  I was frantic.  I pulled the canoe close enough to the dock for me to jump from the canoe.  I ran for the back door.  I didn't even tie the canoe up as it floated back out to water.

I made it into my house.  I was still alive.  I went straight to my bedroom and sat on my bed, wiping my eyes, trying to regain control of my breathing.

The next day I used the rowboat to search for the canoe that had floated away.  I found it resting under some trees about one hundred yards away. After that I had my parents drive me to my babysitting jobs, or rode my bike until I was old enough to drive.  I never got back in that water after dark.  My nights of camping out on the dock with my fishing pole were over.  FRIDAY THE 13TH had ruined me.

Oh, and that head… it was a large piece of firewood that had slipped off of a neighbor's dock.

UNK SEZ: Stutz, thank you so much for this beautifully written TRAUMAFESSION! I gotta say it kinda gives me the creeps. It reminds me of all the times I thought I heard a noise in the house or thought somebody was following me in the street, all the times my brain wickedly decided to erase the line between real life and all the movies I've seen and the books that I've read. Just remember, decapitated heads that turn into driftwood are fine, it's driftwood that turns into decapitated heads that you have to watch out for!

UPDATE: Check out Stutz's blog THE MONDAY REPORT!

My parents were generous enough to buy records for me and my two older brothers. I don't know why we got this record, but I can imagine it was for Halloween purposes: "Disney's Chilling, Thrilling Sounds of the Haunted House."

The cover alone is enough to scare any kid. Side One is a bunch of scary stories with effects which were OK but not traumatizing. It's Side Two that terrorized me – it's a collection of really fucking scary effects made by the top Foley artists and effects people at Disney – OF COURSE it's going to be scary! There were human voice, animal sounds, wood creaks, wind, water drips, crashes – and they all seemed EVIL. ORSON WELLES would have been jealous. The fact that there's no narration or anything made it even worse. Your imagination could fill in ANYTHING and in my case, it always did. The back cover has a warning that reads "Not intended for young, impressionable children from three to eight" – that was exactly my age range, and my brothers quickly learned that playing track one on side two ("Screams and Groans") was the quickest way to send me running screaming to my room to hide under the covers with my fingers in my ears. My parents, of course, did nothing to stop this.

The trauma followed me to high school, when a friend of mine produced the same album from her collection. I couldn't hide my reaction and she insisted on playing it, just to freak me out. I went outside where I couldn't hear it and wouldn't come back in till she turned it off. Later in life I needed to use the sounds on side two track ten ("Things in Space", less scary Forbidden Planet-type noises) for a radio show but had to make everyone promise not to "accidentally" play any of the other tracks.

In Googling the album, I found a SITE where someone has uploaded the tracks. I turned the sound off on my computer before I clicked on the link in Google, just in case they'd set a track to play automatically. Will I click on any of the links, just to see if they still scare me? HELL NO.

By the way, I still have the original album in my collection, safely tucked in the back. I hope it doesn't crawl up the stairs one night to terrorize me again. It just might, y'know.

I'd be interested to know if any other readers were traumatized by those bastards at Disney.

AUNT JOHN SEZ: Thanks Lene for the great audio TRAUMAFESSION! To hear more from Lene, literally, be sure to check out the podcasts that abound on her site I Read Comics.

 

In our hometown mall there was always one corner that was a little darker, gloomier than the other and this corner housed our Woolworth's store.  At Halloween time they put on the requisite window display and it was pretty tame considering.  But one year they put out a black velvet cloth and from under was creeping a hand.  No blood, no sharp implements nothing – but my sister saw me gazing at it with rapt attention and then began to tease me that the hand was going to follow me home and hide under my bed, the hand was going to get me. And after that I had months of nightmares where the hand was following me, the hand was hiding just out of my sight.  So one of the most traumatic moments of childhood had to do with the disembodied hand.

The 1974 movie EARTHQUAKE also did me in – I couldn't ride in an elevator for a long time after watching this one.  In one scene they show people in an elevator during the quake and the cables break and it plunges them to their doom. As a special, extra-cheesy 1970's effect they put big red splotches over the scene to ram home to the viewer that yes these people died, were mashed to bits, no more.  I rewatched the movie recently and was amused at how hokey the scene really was – but to a five year old, pure fear. 

UNK SEZ: Fellow LOTTD member Absinthe is the mastermind behind GLOOMY SUNDAY a brilliant spot that takes an exhaustive look at the world of Gothic romances. There's always something new there and besides Absinthe's penetrating observations, visitors are treated to an impressive catalog of those groovy gothic paperback covers of yesteryear. Add a little darkness to your day and drop by!
 

Absurd though it may sound, the Hall & Oates song "Maneater" traumatized me so much that I actually stopped listening to the radio. I used to listen to the radio all the time, but once that song came out, and once I heard it late at night (which, given my age at the time, was probably like 8 or 9pm), it freaked me out so badly that I had to enter a self-enforced radio silence for fear that the song might come on again. I was, of course, taking the lyrics too literally; my metaphor glands had not dropped yet.

UNK SEZ: Dear Nat: I know many people who claim to be scared of John Oates' awesome mustache, but I have never heard of anyone being afraid of the smooth as velvet, blue-eyed soul, pop masterpiece "Maneater." I always thought the song brought in the happy thoughts like NATASSIA KINSKI in PAUL SCHRADER's CAT PEOPLE (which was also released in 1982) or that awesome video game that looked like a shark's face also entitled MANEATER. I do feel your pain though. I've mentioned before my on going adverse reaction to THE ALAN PARSONS PROJECT, but it seems your feeling towards "Maneater" more closely resembles my own for Paul McCartney and Wings' horrifically spooky-toned song "Let 'Em In"…you know, "Someone's knocking on the door, somebody's ringing the bell…do me a favor, open the door and let 'em in…" I remember hearing this song on my little transistor radio as a kid and being terrified by who might be behind said door (This being the seventies I was pretty sure it was Satan himself). Some nice youtuber made a mash-up of the song with a Beatles cartoon in which they are confronted by Frankenstein, the Wolfman and a bunch of other ghouls. Although it amounts to exactly zero in the sense making department, I think it perfectly illustrates what was going on inside my wee little brain at the time. (To be honest the song's lazy marching beat still gives me the willies). To experience the creepy horror go HERE, otherwise you can always revisit your own unhappy place HERE. The sad news is, just like with my trauma song, you can be sure that "Maneater," due to its popularity is never, ever, ever, going to go away!

UPDATE: The original WINGS' version of "Let Em In" is no longer scary to me now that I have witnessed BERT PARKS' performance of the same song at the 1976 Miss America Pageant. Only those who do not have residual LSD locked in their spinal cord should venture HERE!!!