In the 1987 Italian film Specters, Donald Pleasence plays Professor Lasky. Lasky is investigating the catacombs underneath Rome. When he discovers a previously unknown tomb, he speculates that it may be the final resting place of a Roman emperor who was sacrificed to a pagan god by his own subjects. Lasky says that Roman historians tried to cover up the existence of the emperor because it was simply too scandalous to admit that he had been killed by the very people over whom he ruled. Now Lasky might have proof of his existence. But at what cost?
The main reason I watched Specters was the presence of Donald Pleasence. Unfortunately, as was often the case with Pleasence’s post-Halloween films, he doesn’t really get to do much in Specters. He appears in a handful of scenes, and he’s just as intense as always. Rather than being excited about the possibility of having made a major discovery, he seems rather worried about why the tomb was so well hidden in the first place. Pleasence brings his trademark intensity to the role. As always, it’s a joy to listen to the slightly unhinged timbre of his voice. That said, it’s hard not to wish that Pleasence had been given a bigger and more active role. John Carpenter’s Prince of Darkness, which was released the same year, showed that Pleasence was still capable of being a compelling actor when given the opportunity.
Instead, Specters is largely about Professor Lasky’s assistant, Marcus (John R. Pepper), and his girlfriend, Alice (Trine Michelsen). Alice is an actress shooting a horror movie in Rome, and Specters actually has a fairly clever sequence in which a scene of Alice being chased turns out to be a scene from the movie she’s shooting. For the most part, Alice just wants Marcus to stay home so they can have sex. Unfortunately, Marcus keeps getting called back to the catacombs. The one time they do have sex, we discover that Marcus has an incredibly hairy back, and it kind of ruined the mood for me. I will say that, as someone who owns over a hundred nightshirts, I was jealous of Alice’s collection. The nightshirt with all the months listed on it was to die for.
Opening the tomb releases an evil force in Rome. Lasky and his assistants are targeted, but occasionally the evil force seems to go after anyone who happens to be around. It’s not a particularly well-defined evil force, which occasionally makes the film effective. There’s a scene involving a suddenly erudite beggar that’s actually rather creepy. The film makes frequent use of a wind machine. Whenever the evil force is floating around, a big wind starts up and doors and windows are thrown open or slammed shut. At one point, Alice sinks into a bed, and we’re left to wonder if Freddy Krueger was sealed up in the tomb.
It’s a confusing film, one made up of multiple set pieces that don’t always seem to go together. The incoherence is not necessarily a bad thing. Fulci’s Beyond trilogy and Argento’s Inferno both showed that Italian horror cinema often benefits from dream logic. The main problem is that, with the exception of the underused Donald Pleasence, none of the characters are really interesting enough to hold our attention. The Beyond trilogy benefited from the presence of likable actors like Catriona MacColl and David Warbeck. Inferno may not have always made sense, but Argento was smart enough to populate his dreamscape with people like Daria Nicolodi, Irene Miracle, and Leigh McCloskey. (McCloskey may not have been the greatest actor, but his stolid presence grounded the film.) Specters just feels like a random assemblage of scenes that don’t really belong together. There are a few effective moments, but they don’t add up to much.
That said, it is always good to see Donald Pleasence. And Rome, as always, is lovely.
Yesterday, when it was announced that child evangelist-turned-actor Marjoe Gortner had passed away at the age of 82, nearly every article mentioned his role as Jody Joad, the homicidal National Guardsman from 1974’s Earthquake. Now, personally, I think Marjoe’s best role was playing himself in the creepy but compelling 1972 documentary Marjoe. My second-favorite Marjoe Gortner performance was his turn as Akton, Stella Starr’s partner in crime in Starcrash.
That said, Earthquake was apparently the most commercially successful film in which he appeared. And it must be said that Jody is an absolutely horrifying villain. When we first meet Jody, he’s the guy no one respects. He’s a grocery-store manager who takes a good deal of pride in being a member of the National Guard. His three housemates make constant fun of him, both for being so uptight and for all of the posters of male bodybuilders that decorate the walls of his room. From the first minute we see him, it’s obvious that Jody is someone who has been waiting his entire life for a chance to be in charge and to put everyone else in their place. Jody gets that chance when an earthquake hits Los Angeles and the National Guard is called out to maintain order. In his uniform, Jody has no hesitation about executing his former roommates for looting. He also has no hesitation about kidnapping Rosa (Victoria Principal), the model who used to shop at his grocery store.
What makes Jody such an effective villain is that he’s thoroughly plausible. Everyone probably knows someone like Jody. He’s the guy who has a big opinion of himself and who is upset that others don’t seem to share it. He’s someone who feels that he deserves more than he’s gotten in life and who spends most of his time trying to hide the resentment that burns within him. He’s exactly the type of person who lets the least amount of power go to his head. In Earthquake, he assumes the role of judge, jury, and executioner toward anyone he feels is failing to respect his authority. In the real world, he would have been the guy searching through your old tweets to find examples of wrongthink. He would have been one of the people who spent his time snitching on neighbors who stepped outside without wearing a mask during the COVID era. Indeed, the last few years have revealed that there are many Jodys among us.
Marjoe Gortner brought Jody to terrifying life. In the documentary about his life, Marjoe Gortner famously said that he was “bad, but not evil.” Jody Joad, on the other hand, is a very recognizable evil.
I know that AI films aren’t for everyone, but I’m convinced now that they are the future. To my actor, writer, director, and producer friends, you need to get on board or be left behind. Yes, they are aggressively mediocre today, but they didn’t even exist three years ago. Three years from now, there will be feature films written and self-distributed in a weekend. AI film is evolving and will soon surpass current film. The difference between the films I reviewed last year to this year is a quantum leap.
“Don’t Go to Wolf 1069” is actually pretty good. It has a beginning, middle, and an end. It has a clear story with distinct characters and, most importantly, suspense. Worth noting, Wolf 1069 is an actual star that likely has an planet in the habitable zone. Also, I actually cared that the protagonists were in peril- that is new for an AI film.
“Don’t Go to Wolf 1069” has an “Alien” vibe. It’s a group of surveyors going to an alien planet to find minerals for corporations to exploit and they discover murderous creatures. Okay, that is the exact plot of “Alien”, but this is a little different because the aliens are …. wait for it…. HUMANS… sorta. I give credit to the writer because using an actual star and planet helps anchor the story with some realism. The film is flawed- the characters don’t use each others names enough and there isn’t a lot of character development, but that could be resolved if it were a feature length film. The leader, Xu, is the only character with a clear personality and the only other memorable character who has a personality, in that he is horny and English, goes missing almost immediately.
Back to the plot. the group goes around the alien planet and finds evidence of cities, roads, and worship sites. They get separated and the remaining crew investigate the ruins, but discover that the bones are human-lite. They are, in fact, Neanderthals’ who we are to believe 1) ate us (not true), 2) were more advanced (unlikely), and 3) fled earth ages ago using their awesome spaceships (really?). The crew searches for their lost horny comrade and finds him – well, what’s left of him. His flesh was ripped from his bones and the remains were crucified; so, that’s bad. Therefore, the crew decides to flee for their lives and hopefully not lead the Neanderthals’ back to Earth.
With some work, this could be a feature length film. Producers need to figure out how to co-opt this creativity or they will be obsolete.
There are several reasons why I love 1981’s Graduation Day. The lengthy roller rink scene in which Linnea Quigley is chased by the killer and a band named Felony enthusiastically performs Gangster Rock is a huge one.
107 years ago today, the great actor Donald Pleasence was born.
Pleasence is, of course, best-known for playing Dr. Loomis in Halloween. He’s so identified with that franchise that it’s always seemed appropriate that he celebrated his birthday in October. And usually, to celebrate his birthday, we would share a scene of Dr. Loomis yelling at or shooting Michael Myers.
This year, though, I’m going to do something a little different and share a scene from a different type of horror movie, 1971’s Wake in Fright. In this Australian film, Donald Pleasence plays Doc Tydon, an alcoholic doctor who lives in the Australian outback and who befriends John Grant (Gary Bond), a naïve school teacher who has become stranded in a town full of people who don’t have much respect for Grant’s intellectual pursuits. Actually, befriends is perhaps the wrong word. Tydon allows Grant to stay with him but it soon become apparent that Tydon, like almost everyone else in this movie, might have a less-than-friendly agenda of his own.
Wake In Fright features what may be Pleasence’s best performance. In the scene below, Tydon and Grant meet for the first time and Pleasence shows that he was capable of far more than just playing Blofeld and Dr. Loomis.
4 Or More Shots From 4 Or More Films is just what it says it is, 4 shots from 4 of our favorite films. As opposed to the reviews and recaps that we usually post, 4 Shots From 4 Films lets the visuals do the talking!
Today, the Shattered Lens wishes a happy birthday to director Ti West!
Even if you did not already know it, you could probably guess who directed this video. Everything from the back lighting to the color filters to the fog machine to the leather jackets and the gang of shirtless body builders identifies this video as being the work of Joel Schumacher.
This video, which was filmed in Balboa, California, was made during Schumacher’s Lost Boys/Flatliners phase. His infamous Batman films were still several years away. INXS guitarist Kirk Pengilly has gone on record as disliking this video because he felt that, unlike the other videos that INXS was doing at the time, it was “too American.” He was probably right. The video’s mix of strippers, bikers, yuppies, and rent boys feels more appropriate for a film adaptation of a Bret Easton Ellis short story than an INXS song. Even if it isn’t an ideal INXS video, Devil Inside is still probably one of the better entries in Joel Schumacher’s filmography. If I have to choose, I will always pick this video over watching Batman and Robin.
With the video’s help, Devil Inside was one of INXS’s most popular songs in America, reaching the number two spot on the Billboard Hot 100. By comparison, it peaked at #6 in the band’s native Australia and only reached #47 in the UK.
“I fear that the only way to stop those possessed by the spirits of the book is through the act of… bodily dismemberment.” — Professor Knowby
The Evil Dead is the kind of movie that feels like it should not have become a classic, at least not by conventional standards. It was made cheaply, filmed under brutal conditions, packed with unknown actors, and built around an extremely simple premise: five college friends head to an isolated cabin in the woods, unwittingly awaken an ancient evil, and spend the rest of the night being torn apart by demonic forces. Yet more than four decades later, Sam Raimi’s 1981 horror debut remains one of the most energetic, inventive, and genuinely nasty independent films ever made. It is rough around the edges in ways that are impossible to ignore, but those rough edges are a major part of its appeal. The Evil Dead feels handmade, hungry, and a little bit unhinged.
The story starts with Ash Williams, his girlfriend Linda, Ash’s sister Cheryl, and their friends Scotty and Shelly arriving at a remote Tennessee cabin for what is supposed to be a relaxing getaway. It is one of the most familiar setups in horror history now, but Raimi and his collaborators made it feel threatening before the real violence even begins. The cabin is decrepit, damp, and isolated to an almost absurd degree. There is no real sense of civilization nearby. The forest itself seems hostile, with tangled trees, strange sounds, and an atmosphere that makes the woods feel less like a location and more like a living organism surrounding the characters.
The group soon discovers a cellar beneath the cabin, where they find an ancient book bound in flesh, a dagger, and a tape recording left by an archaeologist. The recording describes the Necronomicon, a book of demonic incantations, and naturally the characters make the worst possible decision by playing the tape aloud. That act releases the evil presence that has been lurking in the forest, and the movie moves quickly from creepy cabin story to all-out supernatural nightmare. The concept is simple, but it gives Raimi room to focus on mood, visual invention, and escalation rather than complicated mythology.
What makes The Evil Dead special is how aggressively Raimi directs it. Even in his first feature, he had a style that was impossible to mistake for anyone else’s. The camera is constantly moving, lunging through the woods, creeping around corners, tilting at unnatural angles, and racing toward people as if the audience has become the demon’s point of view. The famous “demon-cam” shots are still startling because of how physical they feel. The camera does not glide elegantly. It charges. It crashes through the environment. It feels like something has broken loose and is hunting the characters.
That restless filmmaking gives the movie a personality far larger than its budget. Raimi turns limitations into an advantage. The cabin becomes a maze of shadows, floorboards, trap doors, windows, and hidden spaces. A cheap-looking hallway can suddenly become terrifying because the editing, sound design, and camera movement make it feel unstable. Raimi understands that horror does not always come from seeing a monster clearly. Sometimes it comes from the sense that the camera itself has stopped behaving normally, that the space around the characters is warping, and that even the trees outside are watching them.
The special effects are another major reason the film still has such a devoted following. They are obviously practical, often messy, and occasionally so exaggerated that they cross into dark comedy, but they have a tactile quality that modern digital effects often lack. The possessed characters look genuinely diseased and wrong: pale skin, dead eyes, rotting makeup, distorted faces, and unnatural movements. When the deadites attack, they do not simply become generic zombies. They taunt their friends, laugh at them, imitate their voices, and enjoy causing emotional pain. That cruel playfulness makes them more disturbing than ordinary monsters.
The makeup work on the possessed Cheryl, Shelly, and Linda remains especially effective because it turns familiar faces into grotesque masks. Ellen Sandweiss, Betsy Baker, and Theresa Tilly bring an unsettling intensity to those transformations, switching from frightened victims to shrieking, mocking demons. The performances are broad and theatrical, but that is exactly what the material needs. Nothing in The Evil Dead is subtle for very long. The film keeps pushing the characters past the point of normal human behavior until they are laughing, screaming, convulsing, and bleeding all over the cabin.
Bruce Campbell’s Ash is interesting because he is not yet the wisecracking, chainsaw-handed cult hero he would become in the sequels. In The Evil Dead, Ash is mostly an ordinary young man who slowly realizes he is trapped in a situation beyond comprehension. Campbell is still charismatic, and there are flashes of the physical comedy and wild-eyed determination that would define the character later, but this version of Ash is more vulnerable. He panics, hesitates, and suffers. By the end, he looks exhausted in a way that feels earned, covered in sweat, dirt, blood, and trauma.
That difference gives the original movie its own identity within the larger Evil Dead series. Evil Dead II would remake and expand many of the first film’s ideas with more money, more comedy, and a much more overtly cartoonish sensibility. Army of Darkness would take Ash into full fantasy-adventure mode. Those later films are arguably more polished and more immediately entertaining, especially for viewers who love Campbell’s comedic performance. But The Evil Dead has a rawness that the sequels never tried to reproduce. It is a horror movie first, even when its excesses become funny.
The film’s tonal shifts are one of its most fascinating qualities. Raimi clearly understands that grotesque violence can become absurd if it is pushed far enough, and the movie occasionally seems aware of its own madness. A possessed hand reaches through a window. A character gets stabbed with a pencil in one of the film’s most infamous scenes. Bodies erupt in streams of colored goo rather than realistic blood. The final destruction of the deadites is so elaborate that it feels like Raimi and his effects team were determined to empty every container of slime they had available. It is disgusting, but it is also gleefully imaginative.
At the same time, The Evil Dead can be more unpleasant than people remember. Its treatment of Cheryl in the woods is difficult to watch and remains one of the film’s most controversial moments. The scene is meant to establish the cruelty and violation associated with the demonic force, but it is not necessary to enjoy the movie, and it has aged badly compared with the more comic-book brutality of later entries. Raimi himself would move away from that kind of material in the sequels. It is worth acknowledging because the scene changes the tone of the film and may be a deal-breaker for some viewers.
The sound design helps make the movie feel more oppressive than its modest production would suggest. The woods groan, doors bang, voices echo from impossible places, and the demonic chants on the tape recording create a sense that something ancient has been invited into the cabin. Joseph LoDuca’s score adds another layer of unease, using shrill strings and harsh musical stabs to make even quiet scenes feel unstable. The soundtrack is not trying to be elegant. It is trying to make the viewer tense up, and it succeeds.
There is also something inspiring about the movie’s independent spirit. Raimi, Campbell, producer Robert Tapert, and their crew famously made the film through determination, ingenuity, and a willingness to endure conditions that sound miserable in retrospect. You can feel that effort on screen. Every strange camera angle, handmade prop, and splattering effect carries the energy of filmmakers trying to prove they can do something bigger than their resources should allow. The Evil Dead does not hide its budget. It turns that budget into part of its legend.
For horror fans, the movie is essential not because it is flawless, but because it is so alive. It captures the feeling of discovering a forbidden VHS tape or stumbling into a midnight screening where the audience is laughing, cringing, and yelling at the screen. It is scary in places, silly in others, and relentlessly committed to its own bizarre nightmare logic. Raimi would go on to make superhero movies, westerns, thrillers, and studio blockbusters, but the wild visual imagination that defined his career is already fully visible here.
The Evil Dead is a scrappy, blood-soaked supernatural horror movie that earns its reputation through pure filmmaking nerve. Its story may be basic, its acting may be uneven, and some of its material has not aged gracefully, but the movie’s pace, practical effects, demonic imagery, and manic camerawork remain unforgettable. It feels less like a carefully manufactured horror product than a curse someone managed to put on film. That is why it still works: Raimi and his team did not just make a movie about evil invading a cabin. They made the entire movie feel possessed.
And so the first four days of Horrorthon come to a close. Why not celebrate with an AMV?
Song: Thriller by Michael Jackson
Anime: Aria the Scarlet Ammo, Dance in the Vampire Bund, Everyday Life with Monster Girls, High School of the Dead, Interviews With Monster Girls, Rosario + Vampire, Rosario + Vampire Capu 2
On tonight’s episode of Fear Itself, a family man (Colin Ferguson) and a serial killer (Clifton Collins, Jr) both have near-death experiences and end up switching bodies. Before you can say “I’m going to take his …. face …. off,” the family man finds himself in prison and the serial killer finds himself living with a family! Why, it would be almost be funny if not for the fact that the killer specializes in killing families.
This episode aired on June 19th, 2008. Ronny Yu also directed Freddy vs Jason.
