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!
This October, I’m going to be doing something a little bit different with my contribution to 4 (or more) Shots From 4 (or more) Films. I’m going to be taking a little chronological tour of the history of horror cinema, moving from decade to decade.
Today, we take a look at the early 60s!
6 Shots From 6 Horror Films: The Early 60s
Psycho (1960, dir by Alfred Hitchcock, DP: John L. Russell)
Black Sunday (1960, dir by Mario Bava)
Peeping Tom (1960, dir by Michael Powell, DP: Otto Heller)
Pit and the Pendulum (1961, dir by Roger Corman, DP: Floyd Crosby)
The Best of Yucca Flats (1961, dir by Coleman Francis, DP: John Cagle and Leo Strosnider)
The Awful Dr. Orloff (1962, dir by Jess Franco, DP: Godofredo Pacheco)
It’s so odd that it’s difficult to know how to even describe it. On the surface, it’s a film about two people in a house. The Girl (Madolyn Smith) — and that’s how she’s credited at the end of the film — is staying in a secluded house in the woods. There’s a nearby town but, when the Girl stops there to get some gas, it’s impossible not to notice that there aren’t any other people around. When the Girl reaches the house, she makes a phone call and asks to speak to her daughter. From what we hear of her say to her daughter, it sounds as if The Girl is recovering from some sort of trauma.
After the Girl hangs up the phone, the Caller (played by Malcolm McDowell) knocks on her front door. The Caller seems to be a polite Englishman. He says that he’s recently had some car trouble and he asks if he can come in the house to use the Girl’s phone. The Girl lets him in but, as soon as The Caller enters, it becomes apparent that he was lying about having car trouble.
The Girl and the Caller talk. In fact, they spend several days talking. Sometimes, they’re friendly to each other and other times, they’re not. Their stories keep changing. At one point, the Caller claims that he’s a police detective and that he’s investigating a murder in the area. At another point, the Girl claims that she was responsible for the Caller’s car not working. We start to get the feeling that the Girl and the Caller might know each other and that each knows that the other is lying. Things get stranger as the night turns into day and then night again. The Caller appears to be leave but, just as mysteriously, he shows up again. The Caller tries to enter one particular room in the house. The Girl fights to keep him from doing so. The two of them taunt each other. Sometimes, they threaten each other. At times, they seem to be almost dependent on each other and you wonder if the Girl really wants the Caller to leave. They start keeping track of who is collecting the most points as they play a game that only the two of them seem to understand.
And it just keeps going and going. As many times as the Girl and the Caller both say that they’re done with conversation or that they’re leaving, neither can seem to abandon they other. Instead, they keep circling each other, like two trapped animals continually challenging one another for control. It all leads to a twist, one that you probably won’t see coming. Admittedly, the twist itself does seem to come out of nowhere but, because the film has been so weird up until that moment, the bizarre randomness of it all seems totally appropriate.
At times, The Caller can feel like a bit of an endurance test. McDowell and Smith are the only two people in the film and they spend the entire movie engaging in cryptic conversations that only seem to make sense to themselves. It’s not always easy to follow them as they go from one topic to another. Fortunately, both Smith and McDowell give excellent performances, ones that keep us guessing as to their true motivations and which also keep us interested in their enigmatic characters. You become invested in their drama, even if you don’t always understand it. The Caller is not a film for everyone but horror fans looking to take a chance on something a little different will be well-rewarded.
I should start things off with a confession. This is actually not the first time that I’ve shared Manos: The Hands of Fate here on the Shattered Lens. I previously shared it during the 2013, 2015, and 2020 Horrorthons and, each time, I even used the exact same picture of Torgo.
However, Manos proved to be such a popular choice that I simply had to post it again. Manos has a reputation for being one of the worst films ever made. And, honestly, who am I to disagree? However, it’s also a film that is so bad that it simply has to be seen.
(As well, I love regional horror and there are a few films as regional as Manos, a film that was filmed in my home state of Texas and directed by a fertilizer salesman.)
By the way, everyone who watches Manos ends up making fun of Torgo, who was played by John Reynolds. What they may not know is that Reynolds committed suicide shortly after filming on Manos wrapped. So, as tempting at it may be to ridicule poor Mr. Reynolds’s performance, save your barbs for Torgo and leave John Reynolds alone.
There’s an old joke that goes something like this:
How do you know someone’s an atheist?
Give them five minutes and they’ll tell you.
That’s certainly the case with Carl Smith (Keith Salter), the character at the center of 1986’s The Daylight Zone. Because The Daylight Zone is set up as a parody of The Twilight Zone, a Rod Serling-style narrator informs us that Carl is a 35 year-old school teacher from Johnson City, Texas. Carl is driving back to Johnson City in his beat-up old pickup truck. He stops at a roadside fish stand and gets a fish sandwich.
It quickly becomes apparent that there are two things that obsess Carl Smith. One is his dislike of religion. The other is his obsession with fish sandwiches. Seriously, I’ve never seen someone get so excited over a fish sandwich. (Then again, I live in Texas, I’ve driven down more than a few country roads, and I’ve never seen a guy selling fish sandwiches off the side of the road.) The only thing that ruins Carl’s fish sandwich experience is that there’s a bunch of a Christians eating nearby.
“Are you Jesus freaks!?” Carl demands.
Carl flies into a sputtering rage, saying that Jesus doesn’t exist because Carl’s never met him. The Christians respond by asking Carl if he believes in George Washington, seeing as how Carl has never met him either. Carl replies that his great-great-great-great-grandfather lived next door to the Washingtons. Carl’s not just an atheist! He’s also a damn liar!
Anyway, Carl drives off with his fish sandwich. Unfortunately, he’s forced to take a detour. Soon, mysterious people are approaching his truck and asking Carl if he’s heading to Jerusalem and if he’s going to the Crucifixion. Carl laughs them off. Interestingly, Carl never seems to notice that everyone is now dressed in the hottest 33 AD fashion. Of course, none of them seem to find it odd that Carl is driving a pickup truck. Whenever Carl asks if he’s on the right road to Johnson City, everyone responds with, “Yes, you are heading to Jerusalem.” Carl doesn’t understand what they mean. Perhaps he’s confused by the fact that everyone still has a Texas accent.
Indeed, it’s not until Carl is stopped by a bunch of Roman soldiers who demand that he pay an arbitrary tax that it occurs to him that something strange is happening. And make no doubt about it, Carl is an obnoxious and annoying character, the type who never stops complaining and who won’t even share his fish sandwich with a shepherd. But it’s hard not to sympathize with him when he gets arrested for tax evasion. Taxation is theft!
(That said, it’s interesting that the Roman soldiers are confused by Carl’s American money but not by his pickup truck.)
This is an early Christian film from the Christiano Brothers. On the one hand, the story moves quickly and it’s obvious that the brothers understood the format of The Twilight Zone. Instead of just using the show as a gimmick, The Daylight Zone actually does pay homage to the classic Twilight Zone style. On the other hand, Carl is so obnoxious that it’s hard to care one way or the other what happens to him and those thick Texas accents do tend to take away from the whole “He’s been transported to ancient Judea” angle of the story. This one gets an A for effort but a C for execution. Actually, I’ll bump it up to a C+ because of the whole anti-IRS subtext of the film. Seriously, the IRS sucks.
After the mysterious disappearance of her father, Celine (Sian Altman) travels to his estate with her boyfriend, Rich (Louis James) and their friends, April (Sarah Alexandra Marks) and Nick (George Nettleton). Celine wants to deal with her memories and figure out what led to her father disappearing. Rich wants to help her. Nick, meanwhile, just wants to get drunk. April just wants to be anywhere but near Nick. It’s a bit of a dysfunctional group. Personally, I probably would have left Nick behind but I guess the hope was that Nick would lighten the mood whenever things started to get too heavy.
Upon arriving at the estate, they notice a few weird things. For instance, the housekeeper (Judy Tcherniak) has a habit of chanting and she keeps talking about the old ones. There are dead rabbits all over the place. The housekeeper says that the cat must have killed them but there doesn’t seem to be cat anywhere nearby and, as Rich quickly notices, it looks more likely that the rabbits were murdered as a sort of sacrifice. There are strange books and paintings to be found all over the house and there are black-robed cultists who only seem to come out at night. And, of course, there’s the portal in the back yard, which leads to another dimension but also from which spring giant, sacrifice-demanding demons. One should probably be careful about building one of those. I mean, sure, a gazebo looks nice but is it worth losing your soul over? It’s something to consider.
You can probably guess where H.P. Lovecraft’s Monster Portal is heading. Just the appearance of H.P. Lovecraft’s name in the title should tell you all that you need to know. (The film is also known simply as The Offering, which again kind of gives away the plot.) To the film’s credit, it actually does make proper and respectful use of the Cthulhu mythos and, even more importantly, it frequently captures the feel of a H.P. Lovecraft short story. Lovecraft often wrote about people who were investigating the mysterious sins of their family and, of course, he was never hesitant to toss in a robed cultist or two. Even more importantly, the film captures Lovecraft’s view of humanity as just being an insignificant pawn in the grand scheme of things. There have been a lot of films that have claimed Lovecraft as an inspiration but Monster Portal is one of the few to really convince you that it was made by fans of his work.
The film’s low budget is obvious in nearly every frame but the monsters themselves are actually pretty impressive and director Matthew B.C. does a good job creating a properly ominous atmosphere. The estate itself looks great. The acting is a bit inconsistent but, for the most part, Sian Altman and Sarah Alexandra Marks are sympathetic in the lead roles and Judy Tcherniak goes so over-the-top as the housekeeper that she’s actually a lot of fun to watch. Monster Portal is an enjoyable tribute to Lovecraft’s work.
Today’s horror scene that I love comes from 1959’s House on Haunted Hill. As the film opens, Vincent Price takes a moment to speak directly to the audience and introduce the characters who are coming to spend the night at the house. Price, who is one of the patron saints of October, delivers his lines with such relish that it’s impossible not to stick around to see who survives the night.
First released in 1983, Conquest takes place in a mystical land, one where humans, dolphins, and sheep live alongside witches, werewolves, and zombies. It’s a place of magic, evil, and multiple decapitations. As the film begins, a young man named Ilias (played by Andrea Occhipanti, who also appeared in Lucio Fulci’s The New York Ripper) has just turned 18 and is heading out on his first quest. His father gives him a magic bow, which shoots laser-like arrows. Illias boards a raft and sails off to do whatever people do on quests. To be honest, it’s always strange to me that people in films like this always want to go on quests. I mean, it never turns out well.
Ilias finds himself in a land that is ruled by Ocron (Sabrina Sian), a naked witch who spends her time fondling a snake and snorting what appears to be cocaine. During one of her drug binges, Ocron has a vision of a faceless man who carries a magic bow. She realizes that the man could potentially destroy her and end her reign of evil. She orders her werewolf soldiers to take a break from their usual routine of killing cave people so that they can scour the land and destroy the man with the bow.
Fortunately, Ilias has made a new friend! Mace (Jorge Rivero) is a wandering outlaw who claims that he doesn’t care about anyone but who takes an instant liking to Ilias. Soon, Mace and Ilias are inseparable as they walk through the countryside together, stopping only to kill a hunter and steal his food …. wait, that doesn’t sound very heroic. Mace’s argument is that hunters themselves are not heroic but still, it really does seem more like cold-blooded murder than anything else. It’s a weird scene but, then again, this Italian film is a weird movie.
Eventually, Ilias decides that his destiny is to destroy Orcan. Though Mace doesn’t think that it’s a good idea to cross the most powerful witch in this strange world, he does agree to escort Ilias to the seashore. (One gets the feeling that if Conquest had been released more recently, as opposed to 1983, Ilias and Mace would have launched a thousand ships.) But things get complicated on the way, with both Ilias and Mace going through several different changes of heart. Of course, they also run into zombies, underground monsters, and super-intelligent dolphins….
Conquest was directed by Lucio Fulci, the Italian filmmaker who was responsible for some of the most visually striking and narratively incoherent horror films ever made. With Zombi 2, Fulci launched the Italian zombie boom. With The Beyond trilogy, Fulci directed three of the most intriguingly surreal horror films ever made. With The New York Ripper and Don’t Torture A Duckling, Fulci took the giallo genre to its logical and most disturbing conclusion. Fulci made blood-filled films, ones in which the overall plot was never as important as the set pieces. That’s certainly the case of Conquest, which pays homage to the old sword-and-sorcery films while also including zombies and a few rather graphic torture scenes. (The scene in which one person is literally split in half is shocking, even by the standards of Fulci.) And yet there’s an odd earnestness to Conquest, as both Ilias and eventually Mace are horrified by Ocran’s cruelty and willing to risk their lives to put an end to it. The friendship between Ilias and Mace comes out of nowhere but the film takes it seriously and, as a result, the final scenes are far more emotional than you might expect from a director of Fulci’s reputation. It’s tempting to consider Conquest as a bit of a prequel to The Beyond trilogy. Perhaps we’re looking into the Beyond itself and discovering that, even in that disturbing world, there are people who are willing to risk their lives to battle evil.
Conquest was not one Fulci’s box office successes, which is a bit of a shame as it really does seem to be a film that he put his heart into. Unfortunately, Conquest was followed by the controversy surrounding The New York Ripper and the critical failure of Manhattan Baby. Fulci’s career went into decline and he soon found himself directing stuff like Aenigma. It’s a shame but I think many of Fulci’s so-called failures are ready to be rediscovered and reappraised. That’s certainly the case with Conquest.
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!
This October, I’m going to be doing something a little bit different with my contribution to 4 (or more) Shots From 4 (or more) Films. I’m going to be taking a little chronological tour of the history of horror cinema, moving from decade to decade.
Today, we take a look at the late 50s!
8 Shots From 8 Horror Films: The Late 50s
The Curse of Frankenstein (1957, dir by Terence Fisher, DP: Jack Asher)
Plan 9 From Outer Space (1957, dir by Edward D. Wood, Jr., DP: William C. Thompson)
Not Of This Earth (1957, dir by Roger Corman DP: John J. Mescall)
Horror of Dracula (1958, starring Christopher Lee as the Count, Dir by Terence Fisher, DP: Jack Asher)
Night of the Ghouls (1959, dir by Edward D Wood, Jr. DP: William C. Thompson)
War of the Colossal Beast (1958, dir by Bert I. Gordon, DP: Jack A. Marta)
House on Haunted Hill (1959, dir by William Castle, DP: Carl E. Guthrie)
The Mummy (1959, dir by Terence Fisher, DP: Jack Asher)
What to say about the original Children of the Corn?
First released in 1984, this film was based on one of Stephen King’s least interesting short stories. It’s a pretty dumb and poorly-paced movie, featuring villainous puritan children who are more annoying than menacing. The heroes aren’t particularly likable, even if one of them is played by Linda Hamilton. And yet, somehow, Children of the Corn spawned an 11-entry film franchise. (The 11th Children of the Corn film was released in 2020, 36 years after the original.) The original film was remade in 2009 and it continues to be a familiar reference point on the pop cultural landscape. I’ve lost track of the number of Children of the Corn parodies that I’ve seen.
The plot is pretty simple. One day, all of the children in a small rural town get together and kill all the adults. They worship a mysterious entity called He Who Walks Behind The Rows and they sacrifice any adult who is stupid enough to wander into town. The leader of the children is shrill-voiced little twerp named Isaac (John Franklin) and his second-in-command and chief enforcer is the sullen Malachai (played by Courtney Gaies). The children all dress like 1880s settlers and they spend a lot of time staring at each other. Eventually, Malachai overthrows Isaac and ties him to a cross, which leads to a seemingly endless scene of Isaac screeching, “Malachai!” over and over again.
Meanwhile, two adults have accidentally driven into town, Burt (Peter Horton) and his girlfriend, Vicky (Linda Hamilton). They end up running over a child who was trying to flee the cult. They put the body in the trunk of their car and then they kind of forget about it. In their defense, they’ve got a lot to deal with. The children want to sacrifice Vicky and Burt wants to lecture all of the children about how their backwards ways are ruining America. I’m not kidding. This film about children wearing old timey clothes and talking about He Who Walks Behind The Rows tries to convince the viewers that it has a sincere message.
Children of the Corn was not the first movie about killer children but it’s certainly one of the most influential. You have to wonder why because the film itself simply isn’t very good. Beyond the bad acting and the heavy-handed sermonizing, the film’s pacing is all off. A simple story shouldn’t have this many slow spots. Director Fritz Kiersch falls so in love with shots of that haunted cornfield that he forget to use them to tell a compelling story.
And yet, it can’t be denied that there is an audience for this film and the many sequels that followed. I imagine some of it has to do with the fact that people are just fascinated by the idea of evil children. We’re expected to like and forgive the behavior of children, regardless of how obnoxious they may be. Movies like Children of the Corn exploit a real fear that many people have, that children will figure out that they can get away with murder and therefore, they will. It’s a simple and not particularly well-executed idea but it’s one that led to an 11-film franchise so I guess one should never discount the value of keeping it simple.
Today’s Horror on the Lens come to us for director Larry Buchanan.
Larry Buchanan was not only born in Texas but he made most of his films here too. In 1964’s The Naked Witch, a college student is doing a research project on the German-speaking villages in Central Texas. It’s while visiting one such village that this idiot accidentally brings an ancient witch back to life. In many ways, this is a typical Buchanan film. The budget is low and the plot is sometimes incoherent. But the film is also fairly atmospheric. In my case, it helps that I’ve actually spent time in Central Texas and I know how creepy things can sometimes get out there.
Through the Shattered Lens