Horror Film Review: Hellraiser (dir. by Clive Barker)


“No tears, please. It’s a waste of good suffering.” — Pinhead

Hellraiser does not ease viewers into its nightmare; it drags them straight into a world where desire, suffering, and obsession have become impossible to separate. Written and directed by Clive Barker from his own novella The Hellbound Heart, the film is bloody, unsettling, weirdly intimate, and much more serious than its pop-culture reputation might suggest. Yes, it is the movie that introduced Pinhead and the Cenobites, but the first Hellraiser is not really a Pinhead showcase in the way later sequels became. It is a rotten little domestic nightmare about lust, betrayal, obsession, and the kind of desire that keeps going long after it should have destroyed a person.

Barker’s big strength is that he does not treat horror as something separate from human craving. In Hellraiser, pain and pleasure are tangled together from the opening scene. Frank Cotton is not some innocent fool who accidentally opens a cursed puzzle box. He actively seeks it out because normal pleasures no longer satisfy him. He wants sensation pushed past every limit, and the Lament Configuration gives him exactly that—just not in the way he expected. The Cenobites arrive with their chains, hooks, leather, scars, and ritualistic calm, offering a version of experience so extreme that it turns the body into something almost unrecognizable. That premise is memorable on its own, but Barker makes it work because Frank is already spiritually disgusting before hell ever gets involved.

The movie’s real surprise is Julia Cotton, played brilliantly by Clare Higgins. Julia could have been a standard unfaithful wife character, someone introduced merely to create tension inside the Cotton family. Instead, she becomes the dark heart of the film. Her attraction to Frank is not romantic in any healthy or even conventionally sensual sense. It is tied to resentment, boredom, humiliation, and a kind of violent need to feel alive. When Frank returns in his skinless, barely human state and needs blood to regenerate, Julia does not hesitate for long before becoming his accomplice. The scenes in which she lures men back to the abandoned house are among the movie’s most disturbing moments precisely because they are played with such cold purpose. She does not seem possessed. She is making a choice.

That decision gives Hellraiser a nasty emotional edge. Frank is obviously monstrous, but Julia is arguably scarier because she begins as an ordinary person trapped in a miserable life and willingly walks into atrocity. Higgins gives the role a detached, almost aristocratic chill. Her face barely needs to change for the audience to understand that something terrible is happening behind her eyes. The film’s central house becomes an extension of her inner life: dusty, decayed, closed off, and hiding a nightmare in the upstairs room. There is something grimly effective about the fact that the gateway to hell is not in an ancient castle or a faraway cemetery. It is in a family home where people are supposed to start over.

Andrew Robinson also deserves credit as Larry, Julia’s decent but oblivious husband. He is not the most dynamic protagonist in horror history, but that works for the story. Larry is a fundamentally ordinary man who cannot imagine the depths of corruption already moving around him. His blindness is frustrating, but it also reinforces the movie’s worldview. In Hellraiser, the people closest to us may carry desires we cannot see, and the house itself may preserve the damage left behind by old secrets. Ashley Laurence, as Larry’s daughter Kirsty, gradually becomes the film’s moral center. She is not an especially flashy final girl at first, yet Laurence gives Kirsty intelligence and genuine fear. Once she learns what the box can do, her panic feels grounded because she understands she has stumbled into something far beyond a killer with a knife.

Then there are the Cenobites, who remain some of the most striking horror creations of the decade. Doug Bradley’s Pinhead is the obvious standout, but the film wisely uses him sparingly. Pinhead is not a slasher villain who runs around collecting bodies. He is more like a supernatural official, a priest of pain carrying out a horrifying contract. Bradley’s measured voice and theatrical stillness make the character far more unsettling than a louder performance would have. The famous line, “We have such sights to show you,” works because it is delivered with calm conviction rather than rage. Pinhead is not trying to scare Kirsty for fun. He genuinely believes that torment and ecstasy are parts of the same revelation.

The other Cenobites matter too. Butterball, the Chatterer, and the Female Cenobite create the feeling that Pinhead belongs to a larger order rather than simply functioning as a lone monster. Their designs are grotesque but carefully composed, full of exposed flesh, surgical markings, and fetishistic costume details. They do not look like demons from a traditional Christian image of hell. They look like beings who have remade themselves according to an alien set of desires. That is where Barker’s imagination really separates Hellraiser from more conventional monster movies. The Cenobites are not just evil creatures. They are explorers of sensation who have gone so far beyond humanity that morality barely applies to them anymore.

The practical effects are still a major reason the film holds up. Frank’s gradual reconstruction from blood-soaked remains into a mutilated human body is disgusting in the best possible way. It has a tactile quality that CGI rarely captures. You can see the slime, the tissue, the half-formed muscles, and the painful labor involved in putting a body back together. Even when some of the effects show their age, they retain a handmade ugliness that fits the movie’s atmosphere. Nothing in Hellraiser is clean or sleek. The supernatural realm looks damp, industrial, and biological, as if hell were built out of meat, rust, chains, and bad memories.

Christopher Young’s score also does a lot of heavy lifting. It gives the movie a gothic grandeur that makes the story feel larger than its limited locations and modest budget. The film is mostly confined to a house, a hospital, a few streets, and the Cenobites’ shadowy realm, yet the music makes it feel like a grand tragedy unfolding behind the walls. That contrast is one of the movie’s best tricks. Hellraiser can be intimate and theatrical at the same time. It is essentially a chamber piece about a broken family, but it plays like a myth about forbidden knowledge.

If the film has a weakness, it is that its final stretch gets a little messy. The confrontation with Frank has some excellent makeup work and gruesome imagery, but the pacing becomes more conventional once Kirsty is forced into full survival mode. The ending also feels slightly rushed considering how carefully Barker establishes the family tension earlier on. Still, the movie earns enough goodwill through its atmosphere, performances, and imagination that these flaws do not do much damage. If anything, the roughness adds to its charm. Hellraiser feels like a filmmaker throwing every dark idea he has onto the screen and trusting the audience to follow him into the abyss.

What makes Hellraiser endure is not simply the gore, the puzzle box, or Pinhead’s instantly recognizable appearance. It lasts because it understands that horror is often rooted in the things people want but are ashamed to admit they want. Frank wants infinite sensation. Julia wants escape and emotional intensity. Kirsty wants to save her family but must confront how little of that family was worth saving. The Cenobites offer no easy moral lesson; they are simply waiting for someone foolish or desperate enough to open the door.

Casual viewers looking for a straightforward slasher might find Hellraiser slower and stranger than expected, especially if they only know the character of Pinhead through sequels, posters, and parody. But for anyone willing to meet it on its own grim terms, it remains one of the most original supernatural horror films of its era. It is gross, stylish, perverse, tragic, and surprisingly sad beneath all the blood. Barker did not just create monsters. He created a nightmare universe where desire becomes a trap—and where opening a small box can ruin everything.

Zardoz (1974, directed by John Boorman)


Welcome to the year 2293.  Savages known as the Brutals live in a wasteland and worship a giant stone head named Zardoz, who comes out of the sky, tells them to shoot guns and not have sex, and then dumps hundreds of firearms on them.  One Brutal, Zed (Sean Connery, wearing what appears to be a big red diaper) jumps into Zardoz’s mouth and discovers that Zardoz is actually a spaceship that is piloted by Arthur Frayn (Niall Buggy).  Zed shoots Arthur and then flies with Zardoz to the Vortex, where a bunch of overdressed and overaffected Immortals are having a perpetual garden party.

The Immortals, who can live forever because they’ve mentally learned how to slow the aging process, take an immediate interest in Zed.  They want to know where Arthur is.  Zed wants to explore the Vortex and learn what’s going on.  The Immortals assign Zed to do menial tasks.  Consuela (Charlotte Rampling) falls in love with Zed but keeps trying to kill him.  If you could live forever, the film asks, wouldn’t you eventually want to die?  I would not.

John Boorman, you nut!  Boorman is one of the greatest directors ever, responsible for Point Blank, Deliverance, and Excalibur.  Zardoz shows what happens when a great filmmaker falls so in love with his vision that no one can tell him that it’s not working.  Zardoz is pure Boorman, obsessed with nature, curious about paganism, and cynical about religion.  Boorman had something that he wanted to say about nature and humanity and he deserves a lot of credit for that.  He had just directed Deliverance and could have had his pick of projects in 1974.  He could have directed an action spectacular or he could have just gone home to Europe and counted his money.  Instead, Boorman decided to go with a dream project that he had been trying to put together for years.

Did it work?  No, it did not.  A few stunning images (that stone head!) aside, the movie itself is slow and talky and Sean Connery, with his deep brogue, is miscast as Zed.  (As Lisa said last night, “I’m glad to see Scotland survived the apocalypse.”)  With his pony tail and his handle-bar mustache, Connery seemed like he was doing a dry run for his Highlander character.  Charlotte Rampling is beautiful as Consuela and some viewers — mostly men — will appreciate her costumes, but the society of the Immortals is never as interesting as Boorman seems to think it is.

Zardoz is bad but still compelling because Boorman was so dedicated to whatever it was he thought the message of the movie was.  Watch it with a bud and try to figure it out,

Film Review: King David (dir by Bruce Beresford)


A film about David, the young shepherd and musician who eventually became the second king of Israel?

That sounds like a great idea!

After all, David is one of the most compelling figures in history.  Whether it’s the slaying of Goliath or his ill-fated friendship with Jonathan or his uneasy relationship with Saul, every detail about David’s youth feels perfect for cinematic drama.  And then, once David become king of Israel, the drama doesn’t end.  David finds himself dealing with both politics and temptation.  He falls in lust with Bathsheba and, in a moment of terrible weakness, he arranges for her husband to be killed in battle.  His own son, Absalom, turns against him and then, despite David’s very clear orders to the contrary, Absalom is executed while he helplessly hangs from a tree.  For every triumph in David’s life (like the time he used a slingshot to take down Goliath), there’s a tragedy.  For all of David’s attempts to be a good and wise king, he still struggles with his own weaknesses.  Every detail of David’s life seems like it belongs on the big screen.

So, now that we’ve agreed that the life of David would be perfect for a movie, consider this: A film about David, a master of both poetry and politics who was known for his deep emotions, starring Richard Gere?

Uhmmmm….

The 1985 film, King David, has all the potential to be a great film but it’s pretty much doomed by the fact that David is played by Richard Gere.  Today, of course, Richard Gere is an above average character actor who is well-cast as older, seemingly successful men who have never quite conquered their own self-doubt.  That’s not the Richard Gere who shows up in King David.  The Richard Gere who shows up in King David is the blank-faced, youngish Richard Gere who was best-known for films like An Officer and a Gentleman and American Gigolo.  Richard Gere is so miscast as David that just the sight of him takes you out of the film’s reality.  While the film plays out, you find yourself saying, “Richard Gere just killed Goliath.  Richard Gere just spied on Bathsheba.  Richard Gere is dancing through the streets of Jerusalem.”

There are a few good things about King David.  Edward Woodward gives a good performance as Saul, who has always been overshadowed David but who was, in his own way, almost as compelling a character.  The film does a credible-enough job recreating the ancient world and it’s entertaining to see the iconic Italian actor George Eastman show up as Goliath.  Far too often, though, King David becomes one of those films where every big action scene is shown in slow motion and there’s too many close-ups of swords being tossed into the air.

According to Wikipedia (that’s right, I did some “serious” research for this review), King David was actually made because it was felt that the film would be able to draw in the same audience that loved Star Wars.  That turned out to not be true as the film was a huge flop and apparently damaged a lot of careers.  But, flop or not, it was still on TV last night, which just proves that movies are forever.