International Horror Review: La Llorona (dir by Jayro Bustamante)


Enrique Monteverde (Jose Diaz) lives in a mansion in Guatemala.  He’s an old man, one who look harmless on first glance.  He always has an Oxygen tank nearby.  His family says that he’s suffering from Alzheimer’s and, therefore, can’t always be held responsible for some of the things that he might say.  He shamelessly leers at the younger woman who work in his home.  His family says that he’s always been a flirt but he doesn’t mean any harm or offense.  His family insists that he’s just an old man with dementia who is hoping to pass away peacefully while surrounded by his loved ones.

The protestors who gather daily outside of Enrique’s mansion have a different opinion of the man.  They chant and hold up signs illustrated with the faces of their missing relatives.  Before he retired, Enrique was a general.  He fought the communist guerillas.  Previously, he was convicted of committing genocide against the indigenous people of Guatemala but his conviction was overturned by a higher court.  There are other retired generals who know that, if Enrique had gone to prison, it would not have been long until they followed him.  Just because people are going on trial and even getting convicted, that’s not guarantee of justice.

Enrique’s wife, Carmen (Margarita Kenefic)m insists that Enrique is innocent and that all of his accusers are lying.  Enrique’s daughter, Natalia (Sabrina De La Hoz), is less sure while his granddaughter, Sara (Ayla-Elea Hurtado), just thinks of Enrique as being her somewhat goofy grandfather.  Meanwhile, his housekeeper, Valeriana (Maria Telon), remains strangely devoted to him.  Even after a scared and confused Enrique fires a gun in the house because he swears he heard someone moving in the darkness, Valeriana stays.  The rest of the household staff quits.  Alma (María Mercedes Coroy), a young woman from Valeriana’s village, comes to the home to work as a maid.

Enrique continues to insist that some sort of curse has been placed over the mansion and that something evil has entered the house.  Is he just suffering, as his family assumes, from dementia or is he correct?  Even as the protests continue outside and the enigmatic Alma hints that she has a secret of her own, Carmen finds herself haunted by nightmares and visions of her husband’s crimes.

La Llorona is a film that combines two horrors, one legendary and one very real.  There is, of course, the legend of the weeping woman.  She is said to haunt the night, crying for her drowned children and, in some cases, killing anyone who tries to help her.  And there’s the very real horror of the war crimes that were committed, by various military dictatorships, against the indigenous people of Central and South America.  Though Enrique may be a fictional creation, the crimes that he and others committed were not.  La Llorona is more than just a haunted house story.  It’s a film about the crimes of the past and how those crimes continue to haunt the present.  Like many prominent men, Enrique is protected not by the loyalty of those he worked with but instead by the knowledge that the minute one guilty war criminal actually pays for his crimes, they’ll all end of paying.  The political and legal establishment will do what it has to do to protect itself by protecting men like Enrique.  But, as this film demonstrates, the sins of the past cannot be escaped in present.

Unfortunately, the premise is a bit more interesting than the execution.  The film’s deliberate pacing often lends La Llorona a dream-like feel but, in other scenes, the film just feels slow.  The idea of the legendary weeping woman acting as a sort of vigiliante is an interesting one but the story itself is a bit predictable.  That said, the cast all give strong and memorable performances and the film uses the horror genre to discuss disturbing truths that many would rather ignore.  Flawed or not, La Llorona is a good example of how the horror genre can be used to comment on the past and the present.

La Llorna was a Guatemala’s submission for the 2020 Oscar for Best International Film.  Though it deserved a nomination for ambition alone, it didn’t make it beyond the 15-film shortlist.  Fortunately, nominated or not, the film can currently be viewed on Shudder.

Horror Film Review: Silent Hill (dir by Christophe Gans)


Oh, Silent Hill.

I first saw this movie way back in 2006, when it was first released into theaters.  At the time, I knew nothing about Silent Hill, beyond the fact that it was based on a video game that a lot of my friends seemed to like.  I have to admit that I had a really hard time following the plot and yet the film still totally creeped me out.  The film was one of those movies that created such an atmosphere of impending doom that the real world looked and felt different when I left the theater.  For the rest of that night, I found myself feeling paranoid about any sudden shadows.

I’ve watched Silent Hill or, at the very least, parts of Silent Hill a few more times over the years.  The plot still makes little sense to me, though I am now a bit more familiar with the game that inspired the film.  Over the years, a handful of the special effects have aged a bit poorly, with many of the once-fearsome monsters now looking somewhat cartoonish.  And yet, when the film works, it really, really works. There are certain scenes in this film that still surprise and frighten me, even though I’ve already seen them.  One character, for instance, is burned alive and I still have to look away when the fire consumes them.  The thing is that, even if the CGI now looks a bit cartoonish, the atmosphere remains.  That feeling dread continues to snake its way through every scene in the film and into the consciousness of the viewer.

I rewatched the film earlier today.  I’m feeling nervous tonight.  Maybe it’s just because I’ve got a lot of writing to do and we’ve got some home repair people coming by tomorrow to do some work.  Or maybe, it’s because I’m worried that I’m suddenly going to find myself in some sort of shadow world, being menaced by blind but stabby nurses.

The film opens with Rose (Radha Mitchell) and her husband, Christopher (Sean Bean) trying to figure out why their adopted daughter, Sharon (Jodelle Ferland), is sleepwalking and having nightmares about a town called Silent Hill.  Silent Hill is in West Virginia and was abandoned after a mysterious natural disaster.  Rose decides that visiting the town is the best way to solve the mystery.  However, after an automobile accident, Sharon disappears and Rose finds herself wandering around the town and getting attacked by monsters and occultists.  Meanwhile, Christopher is also wandering around Silent Hill, accompanied by a helpful deputy (Kim Coates), but it’s hard not to notice that his Silent Hill seems to be signifcantly difficult from the Silent Hill that Sharon and motorcycle police officer Cybil (Laurie Holden) have found themselves in.

It’s a confusing plot but director Christopher Gans does such a good job of creating and maintaining the film’s creepy atmosphere that it doesn’t matter that you’re not always sure what’s going on.  And while it’s true that there’s perhaps too many scenes of Sharon walking from place to place, there’s also some truly frightening scenes, like the one with all of those killer nurses.  The film plays out like a dream and, as we all know, you don’t question dream logic.  Instead, you just go with it.

And so, 15 years after the film was first released, I’m usually willing to just go with Silent Hill.  I’m at peace with never quite understanding it.  Instead, I appreciate it for what it is: a creepy and surreal experience that will make you think twice before stepping out into the fog.

Horror Scenes that I Love: The Devil Eats A Soul in L’Inferno (dir by Francesco Bertolini, Adolfo Padovan, and Giuseppe De Liguoro)


Today’s horror scene that I love comes from the 1911 film, L’Inferno. This silent film is not only considered to be the first Italian feature film but it was also the first Italian horror film. Based on Dante’s Divine Comedy, the film took three years to make and was a hit with audiences. It made two million at the box office, an unheard of amount of money in 1911.

In this scene, Dante and Virgil observe the devil eating a sinner’s soul.

Book Review: The Legend of the Planet of the Apes: Or How Hollywood Turned Darwin Upside Down by Brian Pendreigh


Recently, while going through all the books that I’ve collected over the years, I came across a copy of The Legend of Planet of the Apes: Or How Hollywood Turned Darwin Upside Down.  It’s a book by a Scottish film critic named Brian Pendreigh and it takes a look at the Planet of the Apes film franchise, from the 1968 original all the way to Tim Burton’s now-forgotten remake.  Though I couldn’t find a copyright date in the book, it was obviously written long before the Planet of the Apes franchise was rebooted and sent in an entirely new direction by 2011’s Rise of the Planet of the Apes.

That’s okay, though.  The three recent Planet of the Apes films all had moments of brilliance and Andy Serkis probably deserved an Oscar nomination for his performances in all three of them but they have also tended to overshadow the original Planet of the Apes and its sequels and, as this book points out, the first 5 films were actually pretty good.  (Okay, okay — Battle of the Planet of the Apes isn’t great, even if it is entertaining.  But I defy you not to cry at the end of Escape From The Planet of the ApesBeneath the Planet of the Apes is wonderfully subversive with its abrupt and nihilistic ending.  Conquest of the Battle of the Apes is probably even more relevant today than it was in the 70s.)  While the majority of Pendreigh’s book focuses on the production of the original Planet of the Apes, he writes enough about both its sequels and the short-lived Planet of the Apes television show to make a convincing argument that the original franchise itself deserves to be held in higher regard than it often is.

It’s a good book, though I do wish Pendreigh had been a little bit less obvious in his loathing of Charlton Heston.  Certain writers will never forgive Heston for not being a liberal.  Heston, of course, was hardly the only Republican to be a star during the 50s and the 60s.  John Wayne, Jimmy Stewart, Gary Cooper, James Cagney (from the 50s onward), Robert Mitchum, and many others leaned to the right.  However, John Wayne, Gary Coper, Robert Mitchum, and even Jimmy Stewart were largely associated with westerns and war films, two genres that were already considered to be thematically conservative.  Heston, on the other hand, appeared in left-wing dystopian sci-films like Soylent Green, The Omega Man, and Planet of the Apes.  While other Hollywood conservatives were supporting the blacklist, Heston fought to get Orson Welles hired to direct Touch of Evil.  He appeared in film that were critical of capitalism and blind patriotism and fanatical militarism.  He did everything that a left-wing actor was supposed to do but he did it while voting Republican and a lot of film writers will never forgive him for it.  As a result, people far too often tend to act as if Heston’s films were good despite Heston when, in all actuality, Heston’s macho persona and his willingness to subvert it (or at the very least, his willingness to allow his directors to subvert it) is what made so many of his film memorable and important in the first place.  One reason why the endings of both Planet of the Apes and Beneath the Planet of the Apes continue to resonate after all these years is because they featured Charlton Heston, rendered helpless and driven mad.

Admittedly, when it comes to dismissing Heston, Pendreigh is not as bad as some.  He acknowledges the importance of Heston’s performance to the success of the original Planet of the Apes.  And yet, he can’t resist complaining about Heston’s later political activities or his admittedly pompous view of himself.  Anytime an actor is quoted as saying something good about Heston, Pendreigh is sure to also include a quote from someone saying something negative.  It’s a distraction that takes away from discussing the films.  One gets the feeling that the author was deeply troubled by the fact that praising Planet of the Apes would require him to also offer up some praise for the film’s star.

But …. no matter!  Regardless of however he felt about Charlton Heston, Brian Pendreich clearly appreciated the Planet of the Apes films and that genuine appreciation comes through in this book.  In fascinating and rewarding detail, it explores the controversy of who, among the many people who worked on developing the film, deserves the credit for coming up with the original’s classic final scene.  It examines the circumstances that led to Edward G. Robinson leaving the role of Dr. Zaius.  It takes a look at the career of Pierre Boulle, who wrote the somewhat forgotten novel that led to the films in the first place.  And it provides a fair look at what worked (and occasionally didn’t work) about the film’s sequels.

If you’re a fan of the original and its sequels, this book is a must-have.

4 Shots From 4 Silent Horror Films


4 (or more) Shots From 4 (or more) Films is just what it says it is, 4 (or more) shots from 4 (or more) of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 (or more) Shots From 4 (or more) Films lets the visuals do the talking.

The horror genre has been around ever since people struggled to explain their fears and horror films were a feature of cinema from the time of the earliest movies.  Today, we pay tribute to some of the early entries in the horror genre with….

4 Shots From 4 Horror Films

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

Nosferatu (1922, dir by F.W. Murnau, DP: Fritz Arno Wagner and Günther Krampf)

Haxan (1922, dir by Benjamin Christesen, DP: Johan Ankerstjerne)

The Phantom of the Oepra (1925, dir by Rupert Julian, DP: Milton Bridenbecker, Virgil Miller, Charles Van Enger)

Horror on the Lens: Faust (dir by F.W. Murnau)


Today’s Horror on the Lens is a silent German film from 1926. Based on the legend of the alchemist who sold his soul to the Devil, Faust was dismissed by European critics when it was intially released but it has since been recognized as one of the great cineamtic examples of German Expressionism.

It was after directing this film that Murnau traveled to Hollywood and directed his masterpice, Sunrise: A Story of Two Humans. (Murnau was also responsible, many years earlier, for directing Nosferatu.) The role of Fasut was played by Swedish actor Gosta Ekman, who tragicaly developed an addiction to cocaine while making the film and who would die as a result in 1938. Playing the role of Mephisto is German actor Emil Jannings, who would later go to win the very first Academy Award for Best Actor. Unfortunately, with the advent of sound, Jannings — who had no interest in learning English — returned to Germany and, after making some classic films with Marlene Dietrich, spent the rest of his career appearing in Nazi propaganda films. Whether or not Jannings was a committed Nazi or just an opportunist remains a point of cotention but it’s still undoubtedly not the career path that one would hope for one of the very first Oscar winners.

Here, for the first time on the Shattered Lens, is Faust:

Scenes That I Love: The Magician From The Funhouse


The Funhouse (1981, dir by Tobe Hooper)

Earlier today, I shared four scenes from four Tobe Hooper films.

Now that it’s time to share a scene that I love, I figure why not continue to pay tribute to Tobe Hooper? The scene below is from Hooper’s unjustly neglected 1981 film, The Funhouse. It doesn’t really advance the plot in any way but it’s still a scene that I really enjoy. It shows Hooper being a bit more playful than usual and it does introduce one the film’s key themes: not everything at the carnival is what it seems. Later on in the film, the same people who made fun of this magician will discover that the magician is not the only person at the carnival who is more clever than they thought.

From 1981’s The Funhouse:

International Horror Film Review: Manhattan Baby (dir by Lucio Fulci)


“Manhattan, baby!”

That’s what a friend of mine yelled a few years ago.  Jack was a choreographer who had just received a call from someone in New York City, offering him the chance to come work on an off-Broadway show.  He accepted, of course and then he hugged everyone who had been standing nearby, listening to the call.

“Manhattan, baby!” he shouted.

Now, the show itself didn’t really work out but Jack did get a trip to Manhattan out of it and really, I think that’s what everyone was excited about.  No matter how many bad things you may hear about New York City, it’s hard not to get excited when you hear the word Manhattan.  For many, Manhattan represents culture, sophistication, and wealth.  For others, Manhattan represents crime, inequity, and alienation.  Across the world, Manhattan stands for everything that is both good and bad about America.  Just the word Manhattan carries a power to it.  You would never get excited if someone announced that they had gotten a job in Minnesota, for instance.  If Jack had shouted, “Minnesota, baby!,” we all would have been concerned about him.  Minnesota?  Who gives a fuck?  But Manhattan …. Manhattan has power, baby!

Manhattan also lent its name to one of Lucio Fulci’s post-Zombi films and the title just happened to duplicate Jack’s proclomation, Manhattan Baby.  Released in 1982, Manhattan Baby is often cited as being the last of Fulci’s “major” productions.  While his career was reinvigorated by the success of the films he made with producer Fabrizio De Angelis (including Zombi 2 and the Beyond trilogy), Fulci and De Angelis had a falling out over Manhattan Baby.  Fulci claimed that De Angelis essentially forced him to make the movie, despite the fact that Fulci himself did not have much interest in the script.  Initially, the film was to be a special effects spectacluar with a large budget but, after the controversy surrounding Fulci’s The New York Ripper, the budget was drastically scaled back and the special effects were done on the cheap.  Fulci later said that he felt the movie was terrible and that it set back his career.

As for what the film is actually about, Manhattan Baby deals with …. well, the plot is not easy to describe.  Fulci’s films were always better known for their surreal imagery than their tight plots and, even by his standards, Manhattan Baby is all over the place.  The film opens in Egypt, where archeologist George Hacker (Christopher Connelly) is struck blind when he enters a previously unexplored tomb. Meanwhile, his daughter, Susie (Brigitta Boccoli), is given an amulet by another blind woman.

Back in Manhattan, George waits for his sight to return and Susie and her little brother, Tommy (Giovanni Frezza, who played Bob In The House By The Cemetery) start to act weird.  It turns out that their bedroom is now some sort of demensional gateway, from which snakes sometimes emerge.  At the same time, the gateway occasionally sucks people through and they end up stranded in the Egyptian desert.  Why?  Who knows?  Is Susie possessed or does the gateway operate independently from her?  Why does she occasionally glow a weird blue color?  Why do she and her brother suddenly seem to hate their nannny (played by Cinzia De Ponti, who was also in The New York Ripper)?  It all has something to do with the amulet but the exact details of how it all works seems to change from scene-to-scene.  Eventually, it turns out that the owner of the local antique shop knows about the amulet and its evil designs.  Unfortunately, all of his stuffed birds come to life and peck his eyes out.  Meanwhile, Susie’s parents and her doctors wonder why her latest x-ray seems to indicate that Susie has a cobra living inside of her and….

Like I said, it doesn’t really make any sense and, despite the power of the name, the meaning behind Manhattan Baby as a title is never really explained.  In fact, more time is probably spent in Egypt than in Manhattan.  It’s easy to assume that the film was called Manhattan Baby because it was felt that the title would appeal to American audiences but, when then the film was released in the U.S., it was actually retitled Eye of the Evil Dead in an attempt to disguise it as being a sequel to Sam Raimi’s classic shocker.  (This was actually a common practice as far as the Italian film industry was concerned.  Many films were retitled to disguise them as being a sequel.  Fulci’s Zombi 2, for instance, recieved that title because, in Europe, Dawn of the Dead was released under the title Zombi.)

One can understand Fulci’s frustration with Manhattan Baby but, at the same time, is it really as bad as he often said it was?  Yes, the plot is incoherent but that’s to be expected with a Fulci film.  Yes, the special effects are cheap but again, that’s kind of part of the charm when it comes to Italian exploitation films.  While Manhattan Baby never duplicates the ominous atmosphere of Zombi 2 or achieves the same sort of surreal grandeur as The Byond trilgoy, there are still enough memorable, if confusing, moments to make it watchable.  The sequece where a shot of a man standing in a doorway cuts to a shot of him lying dead in the desert works surprisingly well.  The scene where the shop owner is attacked by reanimated birds is both ludiscrous and scary, in the grand Fulci tradition.  With their emphasis on foolhardy explorers ignoring curses, the Egyptian scenes feel almost as if they could have been lifted from one of the Hammer mummy films.   Manhattan Baby may not be Fulci’s best but it’s hardly his worst.

In fact, with its obsession with blindness, Manhttan Baby is actually one of Fulci’s more personal films.  Fulci was diabetic and reportedly lived in fear that he would someday lose his eyesight.  Many critics, including me, have suggested that he dealt with this fear by having people lose their eyesight in his movies, often in the most violent ways possible.  Manhattan Baby is full of people losing the ability to see.  George Hacker is rendered blind in Egypt.  The mysterious Egyptain woman hands out amulets to people who she cannot see.  The store owner loses his eyes.  One of George’s colleagues falls on a bed of spikers and, of course, one spike goes straight through an eye.  Manhattan Baby is all about blindness and only be getting rid of the amulet can George hope to once again truly see the world and the people that he loves.  If only illness could be tossed away as easily as an amulet.

Despite Fulci’s disdain for the final result, Manhattan Baby is hardly the disaster that it’s often made out to be.  Those who aren’t familiar with Fulci’s unique aesthetic will undoubtedly confused by the film but, for those of us who know the man’s work, Manhattan Baby may be a minor Fulci film but it’s still an occasionally intriguing one.

4 Shots From 4 Tobe Hooper Films


4 (or more) Shots From 4 (or more) Films is just what it says it is, 4 (or more) shots from 4 (or more) of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 (or more) Shots From 4 (or more) Films lets the visuals do the talking.

Today, I am proud to pay homage to a director from my home state, a man who changed the face of horror and the movies but who was treated terribly by a jealous film industry.  I am talking, of course, about Texas’s own Tobe Hooper.  Hooper redefined horror with The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  Though his later films were never quite as critically or financially successful as that classic, many of them have since been rediscovered by audiences who now better appreciate Hooper’s quirky sensibility.  Hollywood may not have known how to handle Tobe Hooper but horror fans like me will always appreciate him.

It’s time for….

4 Shots From 4 Tobe Hooper Films

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974, dir by Tobe Hooper, DP: Daniel Pearl)

Eaten Alive (1976, dir by Tobe Hooper. DP: Robert Caramico)

Salem’s Lot (1978, dir by Tobe Hooper, DP: Jules Bremmer)

The Funhouse (1981, dir by Tobe Hooper. DP: Andrew Laszlo)