Horror Film Review: The Grapes of Death (dir by Jean Rollin)


1978’s The Grapes of Death is a zombie film that moves at a relentless place, combining effective body horror with an ominous atmosphere that leaves you feeling as if anyone could be the next victim of the zombie horde.

At a vineyard, a worker complains about the new pesticides that are being used and is told, by his smug manager, not to worry so much.  Later, when that worker stumbles aboard a train, his face is pulsing with hideous ulcers.  He kills one woman and chases another, Elizabeth (Marie-Georges Pascal), off the train.  Elizabeth, who is just trying to visit her boyfriend in a nearby village, makes her way across the French countryside, meeting men and women who have been infected by something and who are now going mad.  They may not technically be the undead but, with their nonstop pursuit and their obsession with killing everyone that they come across, they are definitely zombies.

The Grapes of Death is also one of the most French films ever made.  In this film, the zombies are not the creation of a voodoo curse or outer space radiation or even there no longer being room in Hell.  (In fact, it becomes fairly obvious that The Grapes of Death takes place in a world in which there is no Heaven or Hell.)  Instead, this film features people who are transformed into zombies because they drank contaminated wine at an annual festival.  When Elizabeth does eventually meet two men who have not been turned into zombies, they are both revealed to be beer drinkers.  One could actually argue that, despite the film’s grim atmosphere and all of the violence committed and the blood shed and the philosophical discussions that occur, The Grapes of Death is ultimately a satire of French culture.  Only in France could a bad crop of wine lead to the zombie apocalypse.

The Grapes of Death was one of the more commercially successful films to be directed by the great Jean Rollin.  Rollin is best-known for his surreal and dream-like vampire films.  In an interview, he stated that The Grapes of Death was his attempt to make a commercial horror film and that, when he was writing the script, he closely studied the structure of Night of the Living Dead.  While the film does have its similarities to Romero’s classic zombie film, The Grapes of Death is still definitely the work of Jean Rollin.  The lingering shots of the fog-shrouded French countryside and the ancient French villages, with blood staining the cobblestone streets, could have come from any of Rollin’s vampire films.  The film also uses the same serial structure that Rollin used in many of his film, with Elizabeth going from one adventure to another and almost always managing to narrowly escape danger.  Elizabeth goes from fleeing the infected man on the train to finding herself a near prisoner in an isolated house to protecting a blind girl (Mirella Rancelot) for her crazed boyfriend to being menaced by the mysterious Blonde Woman (played by frequent Rollin collaborator Brigitte Lahaie).  There’s a new cliffhanger every fifteen minutes or so.

(Rollin said that he originally envisioned contaminated tobacco as being the cause of the zombie outbreak but he ultimately went with wine instead.  Not everyone smokes but, in France, just about everyone drinks wine.)

First released as Les raisins de la mort, The Grapes of Death has been described as being “France’s first zombie film.”  I don’t know if it was the first but it’s certainly one of the best, a relentless chase through the French countryside that ends on a proper note of downbeat horror.  This film made me happy that I’m not a wine drinker.

(Be sure to read Arleigh’s thoughts here!)

Horror Song of the Day: Mr. Sandman by The Chordettes


Our first Horrorthon song of the day probably seems like an obvious choice.  That’s okay, though.  Thanks to John Carpenter, this sweet little song about teen love became an anthem of impending horror.  None of the Chordettes are with us anymore.  I would love to know what they may or may not have thought about Carpenter’s use of their song in Halloween.

I’d like to think they would have appreciated it.  Michael Myers may not have had hair like Liberace but he did have a mask that looked a lot like William Shatner.

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream (bom, bom, bom, bom)
Make him the cutest that I’ve ever seen (bom, bom, bom, bom)
Give him two lips like roses and clover (bom, bom, bom, bom)
Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over

Sandman, I’m so alone (bom, bom, bom, bom)
Don’t have nobody to call my own (bom, bom, bom, bom)
Please turn on your magic beam
Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream
Make him the cutest that I’ve ever seen
Give him the word that I’m not a rover
Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over

Sandman, I’m so alone
Don’t have nobody to call my own
Please turn on your magic beam (woah)
Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream

Mr. Sandman (yes?) bring us a dream
Give him a pair of eyes with a “come-hither” gleam
Give him a lonely heart like Pagliacci
And lots of wavy hair like Liberace

Mr. Sandman, someone to hold (someone to hold)
Would be so peachy before we’re too old
So please turn on your magic beam

Mr. Sandman, bring us
Please, please, please, Mr. Sandman
Bring us a dream

Songwriters: Clifford Smith / Robert F. Diggs / Jason S. Hunter

4 Shots From Horror History: The 1890s


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 with the 1890s and the birth of horror cinema.

4 Shots From 4 Horror Films

The Execution of Mary Stuart (1895, dir by Alfred Clark)

The Execution of Mary Stuart (1895, dir by Alfred Clark)

The House of the Devil (1896, dir by Georges Méliès)

The House of the Devil (1896, dir by Georges Méliès)

The Haunted Castle (1897, dir by George Albert Smith)

The Haunted Castle (1897, dir by George Albert Smith)

The X-Rays (1897, dir by George Albert Smith)

The X-Rays (1897, dir by George Albert Smith)

Horror Film Review: The Shining (dir by Stanley Kubrick)


The Shining is one of the few horror movies that still scares me.

I say this despite the fact that I’ve lost track of the number of times that I’ve watched Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 adaptation of Stephen King’s third novel.  It’s a film that I watch nearly every October and it’s a film that I’ve pretty much memorized.  Whenever I watch the film, I do so with the knowledge that Jack Torrance (Jack Nicholson), the caretaker of the Overlook Hotel, is eventually going to start talking to ghosts and he’s going to try to kill his wife Wendy (Shelley Duvall) and his son, Danny (Danny Lloyd).  Whenever I watch this film, I know what Jack is going to find Room 237.  I know about the blood pouring out the elevator like the Tampax commercial from Hell.  I know what Danny means when he says, “Redrum….”  I know about the twins and their request of “Come play with us, Danny.”  And, of course, I know about the film’s famous ending.

Whenever I start watching this film, I know everything that is going to happen.  And yet, as soon as I hear the booming beat of of Wendy Carlos’s theme music and I see the overhead shot of the mountain roads leading to the Overlook Hotel, I start to feel uneasy.  Whenever Barry Nelson (played the hotel’s general manager) starts to blandly explain that a previous caretaker got cabin fever and chopped up his twin daughters, I smile because Nelson delivers the lines so casually.  But I also get nervous because I know Charles (or is it Delbert) Grady is going to show up later.

(Incidentally, Barry Nelson never gets enough credit for his brilliant cameo as the friendly but guarded hotel manager.  In Stephen King’s original novel, the character was a stereotypically unsympathetic middle manager, a martinet who existed largely to be told off.  In Kubrick’s film, the manager is one of the most fascinating of the supporting characters.)

I still get nervous when I see Wendy and Danny, sitting in their disturbingly sterile Colorado home while Jack interviews for the caretaker job.  Wendy smokes and Danny talks about how his imaginary friend, Tony, doesn’t want to go to the hotel.  With her unwashed her and her tentative voice, Shelley Duvall is a far cry from the book’s version of Wendy.  However, Duvall’s Wendy is also a far more compelling character, an abused woman who finds her strength when her son is put in danger.  Duvall is the perfect choice for Wendy because she seems like someone who you might see in the parking lot of your local grocery store, trying to load the bags in her car and keep an eye on her young child at the same time.  She seems real and her reactions remind us of how we would probably react if we found ourselves in the same situation.  Wendy makes the mistakes that we would all probably make but she refuses to surrender to her fear.

Why does The Shining remain so powerful and so frightening, even after repeated viewings?  Most of the credit has to go to Stanley Kubrick.  Stephen King has been very vocal about his dislike of the film, claiming that The Shining was more Kubrick’s version than his.  King has a point.  Film is a director’s medium and few directors were as brilliant as Stanley Kubrick.  (Along with The Shining, Kubrick also directed Paths of Glory, 2001, Barry Lyndon, Dr, Strangelove, Spartacus, Lolita, The Killing, A Clockwork Orange, Eyes Wife Shut, and Full Metal Jacket.  Stephen King directed Maximum Overdrive.)  From the minute we see the tracking shots that wind their way through the desolate mountains and the empty hallways of the Overlook, we know that we’re watching a Kubrick film.  Those tracking shots also put us in the same role as the spirits in the Overlook.  We’re watching and following the characters, observing and reacting to their actions without being able to interact with them.  King has complained that Kubrick’s version of The Shining offers up no hope.  But, honestly, what kind of hope can one have after discovering that ghosts are real and they want to kill you?  Once Jack Torrance finally accepts that drink from Joe Turkel’s Lloyd and meets Phillip Stone’s Grady, there is no more room for hope.  King’s book ends with the Overlook destroyed and Jack Torrance perhaps redeeming himself in his last moments.  Kubrick’s film suggests that Jack Torrance never cared enough about his family to be worthy of redemption and that the evil that infected the Overlook is never going to be destroyed.  In the end, not even the kindly presence of Scatman Crothers in the role of Dick Halloran can bring any real hope to the Overlook.

The Shining is unsettling because, more than being a ghost story, it’s a film about being tapped.  Physically, the Torrances are trapped by the blizzard.  Mentally, Jack is trapped by his addictions and his resentments.  One gets the feeling that he’s deeply jealous of Danny, viewing him as someone who came along and took away all of Wendy’s attention.  Wendy is trapped in a bad and abusive marriage and there’s something very poignant about the way Duvall both captures Wendy’s yearning for outside contact (like when she uses the radio to communicate with the local rangers station) and her hope that, if she’s just supportive enough, Jack will get his life together.  Danny’s trapped by his psychic visions and his knowledge of what’s to come.  The victims of the Overlook appear to be trapped as well.  Grady’s daughters are fated to always roam the hallways, looking for someone to play with them.  The Woman in 237 will always wait in her bathtub.  Were these spirits evil before they died or were the twisted by the Overlook?  It’s an unanswered question that sticks with you.

As I mentioned earlier, Stephen King has been very vocal about his dislike of both The Shining and its director.  (King once boasted about outliving Kubrick, a comment that showed a definite lack of class on the part of America’s most commercially successful writer.)  Why does King hate the Kubrick film with such a passion?

I have a theory.  Both King’s second novel, Salem’s Lot, and The Shining feature a writer as the man character.  In both cases, King obviously related to the main character.  Ben Mears in Salem’s Lot is charming, confident, articulate, and successful.  He’s a writer that everyone respects and he’s even well-known enough to have a file with the FBI.  Jack Torrance, on the other hand, is a struggling writer who has a drinking problem, resents authority figures (like the hotel manager), and has issues with his father.  Torrance is a much more interesting character than Ben Mears, precisely because Torrance is so flawed.  (King, and I give him full credit for this, has been open about his own struggles with substance abuse and how he brought his own experiences to the character of Jack Torrance.)  I’ve always suspected that, at the time that King wrote Salem’s Lot and The Shining, Ben Mears was King’s idealized version of himself while Jack Torrance, with all of his struggles and flaws, reflected how King actually felt about himself.  (That the Wendy Torrance of the novel is a beautiful blonde who sticks with her husband despite his drinking problem feels like a bit of wish fulfillment on the part of King.)  When Stanley Kubrick made his version of The Shining and presented Jack Torrance as essentially being a self-centered jerk who, even before arriving at the hotel, had a history of abusing his wife and son, it’s possible King took it a bit personally.  Since King had poured so much of himself into Jack Torrance, it was probably difficult to see Kubrick present the character an abusive narcissist whose great novel turned out to be literally a joke.  And so, Stephen King has spent the last 45 years talking about how much he hates Kubrick’s film.

King’s opinion aside, Kubrick’s The Shining is probably the most effective Stephen King adaptation ever made, precisely because Kubrick knew which parts of the book would work cinematically and which parts were best excised from the plot.  As opposed to later directors who often seem intimidated by King’s fame, Kubrick was able to bring his own signature style to the story.  Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining is a masterpiece and one that I look forward to revisiting this October.

Silent Horror Review: The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (dir by Robert Wiene)


The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920, dir by Robert Wiene, DP: Willy Hameister)

Sitting on a bench, a man named Franzis (Friedrich Feher) tells a story of how he and his fiancée Jane (Lil Dagover) suffered at the hands of Dr. Caligari (Werner Krauss), the owner of a traveling carnival who used an apparent sleepwalker named Cesare (Conrad Veidt) to commit murders for him.  Franzis’s story takes place in an odd village, one that is full of crooked streets, ominous buildings, and dark shadows.  It’s a bizarre story that gets even stranger as we start to suspect that Franzis himself is not quite who he claims to be.

Released in 1920, the silent German film The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is one of those films that we’ve all heard about but far too few of us have actually seen.  Like most silent films, it requires some patience and a willingness to adapt to the narrative convictions of an earlier time.  However, for those of us who love horror cinema, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari remains required viewing.  Not only did it introduce the concept of the twist ending but it also helped to introduce German expressionism to the cinematic world.  The film’s images of twisted roads and ominous structures that seem to be reaching out to capture the people walking past them would go on to influence a countless number of directors and other artists.  The film captures not only the logic and intensity of a nightmare but the look of one as well.

It also captures something very true about human nature.  Running through the story is a theme of authoritarianism.  Before Caligari can bring his carnival to the show, he has to deal with a rude town clerk who seems to take a certain delight in making even the simplest of request difficult.  Caligari keeps Cesare in a coffin-like box and only brings him out when he’s needed to do something.  The sleepwalking Cesare does whatever he is ordered to do, without protest.  Even the film’s twist ending leaves you wondering how much you can trust the people in charge.  When the film was released, Germany was still struggling to recover from World War I, a war that was fought by people who had been trained not to question the orders of those who were sending them to die.  Caligari, like a general, sends Cesare into danger and Cesare, being asleep, never questions a thing.

(Of course, thirteen years after The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari was released, Germany would once again embrace authoritarianism.  Director Robert Wiene left Germany after the rise of Hitler and died in France in 1938.  Co-writer Carl Mayer and star Conrad Veidt also fled Germany, with Veidt landing in Hollywood and playing the villainous Nazi in Casablanca.  Meanwhile, Werner Krauss was reportedly a virulent anti-Semite who supported the Nazi Party and who became one of Joseph Goebbels’s favorite actors.  Lil Dagover also remained in Germany and continued to make films.  She was known to be Hitler’s favorite actress though Dagover always claimed that she didn’t share Hitler’s views.)

Needless to say, it takes some adjustment to watch a silent film.  That’s certainly true in the case of a The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, though the twisted sets and the bizarre story actually help the mind to make the adjustment.  Dr. Caligari takes place in a world so strange that it actually seems appropriate that the dialogue is not heard but only read on title cards.  (If I could imagine a soundtrack to The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, it would probably involve a lot of industrial noise in the background, in the manner of David Lynch’s Eraserhead.  Lynch, incidentally, is a filmmaker who was clearly influenced by Caligari.)  For modern audiences, watching The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari also means accepting that there was a time when CGI was not a thing and films had to make due with practical effects.  But Conard Veidt’s performance is all the more impressive when you realize that it was one that he performed without any of the filmmaking tricks that we now take for granted.

Ever since I first watched it on a dark and rainy night, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari has stayed with me.  The night after I watched it, I even had a nightmare in which Dr. Caligari was trying to break into my apartment.  Yes, Dr. Caligari looked a little bit silly staring through my bedroom window but it still caused me to wake up with my heart about to explode out of my chest.

In short, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari passes the most important test that a horror film can pass and one that most modern film fail.  It sticks with you even after it’s over.

Horror Film Review: The Vampire’s Ghost (dir by Lesley Selander)


1945’s The Vampire’s Ghost takes place in the African port of Bakunda.  It’s the colonial period and the port is full of not just adventurers and local plantation owners but also all sorts of disreputable people who are looking to disappear from civilization for a while.  A series of murders have recently rocked the port.  Victims, almost all of them women, have been discovered drained of blood.  The natives claim that it is the work of vampire but the colonialists dismiss that as superstition.  Plantation owner Thomas Vance (Emmett Vogan) says that there is no such things are vampires.  Thomas’s daughter, Julie (Peggy Stewart), says that there is no such things as vampires.  Julie’s boyfriend, Roy (Charles Gordon), says that there is no such thing as vampires.  Mysterious casino owner Webb Fallon (John Abbott) says that …. well, actually, Webb’s thoughts on the subject are a bit less certain.

Webb Fallon is known to be an expert on the occult and voodoo.  The natives consider him to be a vampire and it turns out that they’re right!  After he is wounded in an assassination attempt, Fallon is forced to reveal the truth of his existence to Roy.  He also puts Roy under his psychic command, forcing him to serve as Fallon’s servant while Fallon proceeds to kill several people.  Can Father Gilchrest (Grant Withers) save Roy from Fallon’s control and also prevent Fallon from turning Julie into his eternal vampire bride?  And why exactly did Thomas think it was a good idea to buy a plantation next to the infamous Temple of Death in the first place?

It may not sound like it from the plot description but The Vampire’s Ghost is actually a fairly interesting take on the traditional vampire story.  The film was made by Republic Studios and, as was so often the case with Republic, the budget was noticeably low and the film’s African locations were obviously just sets on a Hollywood soundstage.  The film was apparently shot in ten days, which was considered to be a long shoot by Republic standards.  And yet, despite the low budget, director Lesley Selander does a good job of creating a properly eerie atmosphere, opening with a POV shot of the vampire stalking a native woman and filling the soundtrack with the sound of beating drums in the distance.  The beautiful Adela Mara appears as a dancer in Abbott’s casino and her dance scene is definitely one of the film’s highlights, a sudden burst of energy that fills the screen with life.  With his somewhat wan appearance, John Abbott may not immediately strike most viewers as the most intimidating of vampires but, as the film progresses, Abbott’s performance win us over.  He plays Webb Fallon as being a calculating villain who suffers from just a touch of ennui.  He’s grown weary of his existence but he’s still driven by his vampiric urges.

This film was an early credit for screenwriter Leigh Brackett.  Apparently, Howard Hawks hired her to adapt The Big Sleep after seeing this film.  Brackett would go on to work on the scripts for Rio Lobo, El Dorado, The Long Goodbye, and The Empire Strikes Back.  And it all started with a vampire named Webb.

Get Ready For The Horror Season With The Help Of Some Old Friends


It’s October and with my Rangers not in the MLB playoffs this year, I’ll have even more time than usual to help out with  this site’s annual Horrorthon!

Are you having trouble getting into the October spirit?  Don’t worry!  The pulps and the comics are here to help!  Here are a few covers that should get anyone into the Halloween mood!

By Earle Bergey

by Harold W. McCauley

Artist Unknown

by Norman Saunders

by Modest Stein

by J.C. Lyendecker

Artist Unknown

Artist Unknown

Artist Unknown

Artist Unknown

Happy horror season!

Horror On The Lens: Mazes and Monsters (dir by Steven Hilliard Stern)


Hi there and welcome to October!  This is our favorite time of the year here at the Shattered Lens because October is our annual horrorthon!  For the past several years (seriously, we’ve been doing this for a while), we have celebrated every October by reviewing and showing some of our favorite horror movies, shows, books, and music.  That’s a tradition that I’m looking forward to helping to continue this year!

Let’s get things started with 1982’s Mazes and Monsters!

Based on a best-seller by Rona Jaffe, Mazes and Monsters tell the story of some college students who enjoy playing a game called Mazes and Monsters.  Now, I realize that Mazes and Monsters may sound a lot like Dungeons and Dragons but they are actually two separate games.  One game takes place in a dungeon.  The other takes place in maze, got it?

When the players decide to play the game in some nearby caves, it causes the newest member of the group (Tom Hanks — yes, Tom Hanks) to snap and become his character.  Convinced that he’s living in a world full of monsters and wizard, Hanks runs away to New York.  How does that go?  During a moment of clarity, Hanks calls his friends and wails, “There’s blood on my knife!”

It’s all fairly silly.  There was a moral panic going on about role playing games when this film was made and this film definitely leans into the panic.  But, in its own over-the-top way, it works.  If you’ve ever wanted to see Tom Hanks battle a big green lizard, this is the film for you.  And I defy anyone not to tear up a little during the final scene!

From 1982, here is Mazes and Monsters!  Happy Horrorthon!

6 Trailers For The First Day Of Horrorthon


Today is the first day of our annual October Horrorthon!  In honor of our favorite time of the year, here is a special edition of Lisa Marie’s Favorite Grindhouse and Exploitation Film Trailers.

The six trailers below all have one thing in common!  Can you spot it?

Enjoy and happy Horrorthon!

  1. Lisa (1989)

2. Lisa Lisa (1977)

3. A Black Veil For Lisa (1968)

4. The Haunting of Lisa (1996)

5. I Am Lisa (2020)

6. Lisa Frankenstein (2024)

Welcome to October On The Shattered Lens


by Erin Nicole

Welcome to October on the Shattered Lens!

Here’s hoping this month finds you with joy, family, friends, fiends, ghouls, and ghosts!

Today is also the start of the Shattered Lens’s annual horrorthon!  Sit back, enjoy the reviews, the art, and the music videos, and have a great month of ghoulish fun!

by Erin Nicole