Scenes That I Love: “Help me!” from The Fly


The Fly (1958, D: Kurt Neumann)

One of the great things about the original, 1958 version of The Fly is that, even though it starred Vincent Price, Price didn’t play the Fly.  Instead, for once, Price was allowed to be the voice of reason, the guy who said, “Maybe don’t mess around with the laws of time and space.”

Today’s scene that I love is from the ending of the original Fly.  Supposedly, Price had a hard time filming this scene because whenever he heard the recording of David Hedison crying out, “Help me!,” he would start laughing.  Still, if you know what spiders actually do to the flies that they capture, you can’t help but sympathize with our misdirected scientist in the web.  Destroying him with a rock was probably the most merciful thing that anyone could do.

October True Crime: Mob Town (dir by Danny A. Abeckaser)


In 1957, the Commission — the governing board that regulated organized crime in America — seemed like it was on the very of collapsing.  Bugsy Siegel was dead.  Lucky Luciano had been exiled to Sicily.  Meyer Lansky was more concerned with running his casinos in Cuba than with keeping track of who was angry with who in America.  The ruthless Vito Genovese was moving in on everyone’s business and was suspected of being behind the assassination of Albert Anastasia and the shooting of Frank Costello.

Genovese, looking to solidify his control and perhaps bring some peace to the warring factions, called for a summit in upstate New York, at the estate of Joseph Barbara.  Bosses from across the country gathered in Apalachin, New York.  It started out as a nice weekend, with stories being told and fish being grilled.  But then, suddenly, the cops showed up and 50 of the country’s most powerful mobsters made a run for it.  Many of them ducked into the woods, where they were subsequently rounded up by the cops.

In the end, several mobsters were arrested and convicted of various crimes.  All of those convictions were overturned on appeal.  However, the arrests revealed to America that the Mafia wasn’t just an urban legend.  Up until the bust at Apalachin, FBI director J. Edgar Hoover insisted that there was no such thing as the Mafia.  After the bust, Hoover not only acknowledged that the Mafia existed but he also started a special division of the FBI to deal with it.

(Not that it did much good, of course.  Being exposed still didn’t stop the Mafia from fixing the vote in Illinois during the 1960 presidential election.)

The 2019 film Mob Town details the events leading up to the Apalachin Conference.  Robert Davi is properly intimidating as the ruthless Vito Genovese.  The film’s director, Danny A. Abeckaser, plays Joseph Barbara while Jami-Lyn Sigler plays Barbara’s wife, tasked with putting together a dinner for a growing list of guests.  Josephine Barbara goes from being happy about her husband working his way up the ranks of the mob to growing increasingly frustrated as the number of expected bosses rises from 30 to 50 and I have to say that I could very much relate to Josephine.  Finally, David Arquette plays Edgar Croswell, the New York state trooper who figured out that something big was happening at the Barbara place.  Croswell spends most of the film trying to get people to take him seriously.  At the end of the film, he gets a congratulatory call from President Eisenhower.  I’m enough of a history nerd that I appreciate any film that ends with a congratulatory call from President Eisenhower.

Mob Land was obviously made for a low-budget and it doesn’t always move as quickly as one might like.  When Croswell isn’t trying to expose the mob, he’s pursuing a romance with Natalie (Jennifer Esposito) and Arquette’s permanently dazed expression doesn’t always make him the most convincing state trooper.  It’s an uneven movie that traffics in almost every mob cliche but I can’t be too critical of it.  Robert Davi was a more convincing Genovese than Robert De Niro was in Alto Knights.  I appreciated the scenes of the Barbaras trying to get their place ready for the meeting.  That was mob action to which I could relate.

Horror Song of the Day: Profondo Rosso by Goblin


Today’s horror song of the day comes from Dario Argento’s Deep Red!

Deep Red features the first collaboration between Argento and Goblin and the score remains a classic and one that I listen to every October.

Here’s Goblin performing Profondo Rosso on Italian television in 1975.

4 Shots From 4 Horror Films: The 1970s Part One


This October, I’m going to be doing something a little bit different with my contribution to 4 Shots From 4 Films.  I’m going to be taking a little chronological tour of the history of horror cinema, moving from decade to decade.

Today, we start the savage 70s!

4 Shots From 4 Horror Films

The Shiver of the Vampires (1970, dir by Jean Rollin)

The Shiver of the Vampires (1970, dir by Jean Rollin)

The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971, dir by Robert Fuest)

The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971, dir by Robert Fuest)

The Last House On The Left (1972, dir by Wes Craven)

The Last House On The Left (1972, dir by Wes Craven)

The Exorcist (1973, dir by William Friedkin)

The Exorcist (1973, dir by William Friedkin)

Blood Mirrors: How I Saw the Devil, Cold Fish, and Revenge Redefine the Horror of Retribution


“Revenge reveals the darkest reflection we hide within.”

Horror cinema has long functioned as a reflective surface, exposing humanity’s deepest fears, desires, and moral uncertainties. The films I Saw the Devil (2010), Cold Fish (2010), and Revenge (2017) serve as “blood mirrors,” revealing not merely the visceral violence inflicted upon their characters but also the profound psychological and ethical transformations that vengeance ignites. Emerging from South Korean, Japanese, and French cinematic traditions, respectively, these works reconceptualize the trauma of retribution into nuanced explorations of identity, power, justice, and morality. This essay unpacks how such acts of revenge fracture and distort the avengers themselves—blurring the boundary between hunter and hunted—and challenge audiences to consider the complicated ethics of vengeance.

Becoming the Monster: I Saw the Devil and the Infinite Cycle of Vengeance

Kim Jee-woon’s I Saw the Devil opens with searing loss. Government agent Kim Soo-hyun’s fiancé is gruesomely murdered by the psychopathic serial killer Jang Kyung-chul. Rather than delivering immediate justice, Kim embarks upon a merciless cycle of capture and release aimed not at ending Kyung-chul’s life but extending his suffering to mirror the anguish Kim feels. This circular vengeance becomes a vehicle for exploring grief’s corrosive power, blurring the avenger’s and victim’s identities.

The film’s structure, with its repetitive cat-and-mouse dynamic, becomes a visual metaphor for obsession and moral degradation. With every brutal encounter, Kim sacrifices more of his humanity, evolving into the very monster he’s vowed to destroy. Lee Mo-gae’s cinematography blends stark clinical detachment with visceral brutality; meticulously framed shots contrast vividly with the film’s emotional chaos, compelling the audience into uncomfortable identification with Kim’s dark crusade. The snowy landscapes and cold colors evoke spiritual desolation, emphasizing the film’s existential chill.

Kim’s work transcends procedural thriller conventions by resisting catharsis—vengeance is portrayed not as liberation but endless torment. Critics laud the film for masterfully challenging traditional revenge narratives by suggesting that acts of retribution can perpetuate cycles of violence, consuming both victim and perpetrator. The tension not only lies in physical danger but in the moral disintegration of a man who becomes what he hates.

Hidden Rage Beneath Ordinary Lives: Social Collapse in Cold Fish

Sion Sono’s Cold Fish presents revenge as an eruption of buried rage within the façade of mundane suburban existence. The gentle tropical fish store owner, Nobuyuki Syamoto, leads a restrained, law-abiding life until meeting the domineering and psychopathic Murata. Their relationship becomes a dance of psychological and physical domination, exposing latent violence simmering under cultural conformity.

Unlike the clinical precision of I Saw the DevilCold Fish captures chaos and collapse. Syamoto’s eventual violent revolt is neither heroic nor cathartic but an enactment of existential despair born of oppressive social codes emphasizing politeness, hierarchy, and silence. The oppressive suburban setting becomes almost a character itself—sterile, suffocating, and emotionally barren. The circling fish motif highlights the recursive cycles of repression and violence that trap the characters.

Sono’s cinematic approach balances absurdist, at times black humor with grim horror. This tonal dissonance destabilizes viewer complacency, forcing reflections on how individual suffering is structured and concealed by social and cultural norms. Syamoto’s dissolution challenges viewers to reconsider traditional narratives of justice and victimhood, emphasizing the fragility of identity under systemic pressures.

From Exploitation to Empowerment: Revenge and the Reclamation of Agency

Coralie Fargeat’s Revenge radically revisits the “rape and revenge” genre notorious since 1970s grindhouse cinema. While drawing inspiration from films like I Spit on Your Grave and The Last House on the LeftRevenge rejects those works’ often exploitative male gaze, recasting the survivor’s story through a fully realized lens of autonomy and violent reclamation.

Jen’s transformation—from a sexualized object within a hyper-saturated, colorful visual palette to a mythic force of nature marked by the symbolic phoenix brand—signifies death and rebirth. Fargeat’s use of chiaroscuro lighting, surreal settings, and visceral violence elevates physical trauma to the level of mythic metamorphosis.

This film subverts traditional victim and villain binaries. Jen’s ascent dismantles deeply embedded patriarchal structures, underscoring a reclamation of body, gaze, and power. The climactic chase, drenched in blood and primal energy, becomes a ritualistic unshackling rather than mere revenge. Through this revival of grindhouse aesthetics, Fargeat forges a new grammar of feminist survival and cinematic empowerment.

Power, Gender, and Hierarchies in Contemporary Revenge Narratives

These films foreground power dynamics traditionally gendered but reinterpreted here in ways promoting gender-neutral critique. In Cold Fish, toxic masculinity manifests as violent domination versus passivity within strict social codes, both Syamoto’s submission and Murata’s cruelty reinforcing systemic violence.

I Saw the Devil portrays injured masculine pride and control as drivers of vengeance. Kim’s obsession symbolizes fragile protector ideals collapsing into moral ruin. Female characters often exist as symbolic voids, underscoring systemic gender violence and erasure.

Revenge, by contrast, deconstructs these codes. Jen transcends rigid gender norms and victimhood, suggesting power as a fluid, elemental force beyond biology. The film’s desert setting serves as a symbolic womb of transformation, projecting possibilities of autonomy and sovereignty through defiance of hierarchical structures.

National Contexts: Morality, Control, and Crisis

Each film emerges from distinct cultural anxieties and historical trajectories. I Saw the Devil reflects South Korean skepticism about institutional justice amid rapid modernization and lingering traditionalism. Private vengeance becomes a desperate, isolating reaction to systemic failure.

Cold Fish critiques a Japanese culture steeped in social conformity and emotional repression, revealing the violent potential beneath controlled civility. The film reflects post-war tensions and growing awareness of societal alienation.

France’s Revenge draws from the New Extremity movement, blending philosophical and visceral approaches to suffering, reflecting intellectual and artistic responses to modern oppression. Fargeat’s fusion of grindhouse with feminist critique signals contemporary cultural struggle for voices outside dominant systems.

Narrative and Visual Style: Diverse Paths to Transformation

The narrative architectures differ but complement one another. I Saw the Devil’s repetitive structure illustrates cyclical moral decay; Cold Fish depicts downward spiral into absurd chaos; Revenge follows mythic death-and-rebirth arc.

Their visual languages communicate complex ethical positions: Kim’s symmetrical, controlled shots reflect calculated cruelty; Sono’s frenetic, disorienting camera work conveys mental disintegration; Fargeat’s vivid, stylized imagery channels surreal transcendence.

Each film implicates the viewer uniquely. I Saw the Devil seduces with calculated violence; Cold Fish overwhelms with chaotic brutality; Revenge reorients the gaze empathetically to survivor experience. Together, they articulate a profound inquiry into horror spectatorship and ethical engagement.

Societal Reflections: Alienation and Moral Fragmentation

These films manifest collective crises of modernity—gendered hierarchies, failed justice, fractured communities—within intimate personal revenge stories. They diagnose alienation and fragmentation, transforming revenge into language for voicing trauma and injustice. This intersection exposes how power, violence, and identity intertwine in contemporary cultural narratives.

The Horror of Becoming

Ultimately, I Saw the DevilCold Fish, and Revenge frame horror as a meditation on transformation rather than pure evil. Vengeance reshapes the self, often toward destruction. Kim becomes the hunted devil; Syamoto lives his oppressor’s violence; Jen transcends human limits through fiery renewal.

Together, they depict revenge as curse, collapse, and painful rebirth—a global meditation on violence and selfhood. Their shared revelation: revenge unmasks the darkness dwelling quietly within us all, proving that horror’s deepest mirror reflects ourselves.

Horror On The Lens: The Brain Eaters (dir by Bruno VeSota)


For today’s horror on the lens, we have 1958’s The Brain Eaters!

In this noir-influenced tale of science fiction horror, a con-shaped ship crashes near a small town.  Soon, the residents of the town are vanishing, just to return as mind-controlled zombies!  This one clocks in at 61 minutes and it’s an enjoyable little B-movie.  Like many films from the 50s, the main message seems to be that you should never totally trust anyone.  They could be a communist.  They could be an alien.  They could be a Brain Eater!

Keep an eye out for Leonard Nimoy in an early role.  Or actually, it might be better to keep an ear open.  Nimoy isn’t easy to spot but you’ll recognize his voice towards the end of the film.

 

Zombie Patrol, Short Film Review by Case Wright


Can AI be used to make an entertaining horror short?
We have a parking garage security guard searching the property because he hears a noise. He finds his coworker slain. A zombie starts rewiring the fuse box and turns off the lights in the garage. The zombie is smart
He encounters the zombie and starts shooting and shooting, killing more and more zombies to heavy metal and that is the whole film.
I enjoyed it. So, AI can make a fun horror short and actors will become a thing of the past.
If you have 2.6 minutes to spare, check it out.

Live Tweet Alert: Join #ScarySocial for In Fear!


As some of our regular readers undoubtedly know, I am involved in a few weekly live tweets on twitter.  I host #FridayNightFlix every Friday, I co-host #ScarySocial on Saturday, and I am one of the five hosts of #MondayActionMovie!  Every week, we get together.  We watch a movie.  We tweet our way through it.

Tonight, at 9 pm et, Deanna Dawn will be hosting #ScarySocial!  The movie?  In Fear!  

If you want to join us this Saturday, just hop onto twitter, start the movie at 9 pm et, and use the #ScarySocial hashtag!  It’s a friendly group and welcoming of newcomers so don’t be shy.

The film is available on Tubi!

Music Video of the Day: The Wild and the Young by Quiet Riot (1986, directed by Jeff Stein)


The music video for Quiet Riot’s The Wild and The Young takes place in a future that’s controlled by the military and the Parents Resource Music Center (PRMC), the Tipper Gore-led organization that campaigned for albums and CDs to come with warning labels.  There were actually Senate hearings on obscene lyrics in 1985, with everyone from Dee Snider to Frank Zappa coming together to make the elected officials look stupid.

Director Jeff Stein has directed several TV shows, along with doing videos for The Who, Weezer, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, George Clinton, Cinderella, Warrant, and Wilson Phillips.