Wow, look at all of those creepy kids on the cover of this book!
They really do look like an insufferable pack of brats, don’t they? If nothing else, this cover confirms that children can be creepy, especially when they all go to the same private school and they all have the same grim expression on their face.
First published in 1982, The Children opens with a series of mysterious deaths. The richest man in the world dies on an airplane. His lawyer is killed on another airplane. A network anchorman and his one night stand are gunned down in his apartment, by an 11 year-old. A private investigator is pushed off of a subway platform while a bunch of children watch. There’s something weird about those kids.
The covers describes The Children as being “a novel of terror” but, unfortunately, after a strong opening, it gets bogged down with two characters — glamorous anchorwoman Shelley James and hard-boiled columnist Mark Chandler — investigating the murders and rather inevitably falling in love. I think a part of the problem is that we know that the children are evil before Shelley and Chandler and it takes the two of them so long to figure out what we already know that it’s difficult not to get annoyed with them. In fact, after the initial murders, it’s another 200 pages or so before the book actually returns to the involvement of the children and, even then, the payoff is nowhere as exciting as you may have hoped.
Like 666 and The Rapture, The Children is another book that I ended up reading because I came across it in Grady Hendrix’s Paperbacks from Hell. While I can’t really recommend The Children to anyone else, I will definitely recommend that, if you haven’t already read Paperback from Hell, that you order a copy today!
Way back at the end of August, in anticipation of the TSL’s Horrorthon, I went down to my local Half-Price Books and I explored their collection of old horror paperbacks. Among the books that I pulled off the shelf was The Dead Man’s Kiss by Robert Weinberg.
I randomly opened the book and I found myself reading about a woman named Sarah having sex with a resurrected Egypitan sorcerer. I flipped to another part of the book and suddenly, I was reading about a bunch of Neo-Nazis working with a resurrected Egyptian sorcerer to overthrow the U.S. government. I flipped through the book again and suddenly, I was reading about two wisecracking cops discussing how weird it was that they had gone from chasing Neo-Nazis to chasing a resurrected Egyptian sorcerer.
In short, it sounded like a weird book so I bought it and I read it.
And you know what? It is a strange book. Published in 1992, it tells the story of Jambres, a priest in ancient Egypt who was punished for a crime that he didn’t commit. Somehow, this led to his soul being split in half and, now that he’s convinced a bunch of Neo-Nazis to resurrect him, he’s determined to bring the two halves together and then rule the world. Unfortunately, the only way that Jambres can walk around the modern world is by entering someone’s body through their mouth. This may kill the host but it gives Jambres a body and a set of memories to use. The only problem is that the body starts decaying as soon as Jambres enters it, so he and the white supremacists are constantly having to search for a new body for him to inhabit.
While Jambres and the Nazis are wondering around Chicago, they’re being pursued by two unflappable cops. Also on the case is a former MOSSAD agent, who has been assigned to protect the mild-mannered museum worker that Jambres has targeted for death. It all leads to love, of course. Love and death.
The plot of Dead Man’s Kiss has a make-it-up-as-you-go-along feel to it. It’s ludicrous but likable, complete with bizarre dialogue and improbable plot twists. The book may not make too much sense but it does make for an entertaining 250 pages.
David Lynch reportedly once described Eraserhead as being a “dream of dark and disturbing things” and the same description can easily be applied to Lucio Fulci’s 1981 masterpiece, The Beyond.
The second part of Fulci’s Beyond trilogy, The Beyond sits between City of the Living Dead and The House By The Cemetery. With its portrayal of naive humans getting an unwanted look at the inexplicable reality that hides just a little beyond ours, it’s a film that very much calls to the mind the work of H.P. Lovecraft. While insanity was often the punishment for gaining knowledge of Cthulhu and the Great Old Ones, the punishment for discovering the Beyond often seems to be blindness.
(Ocular damage was one of Fulci’s trademarks. Starting withZombi 2, almost every Fulci film seemed to feature someone losing an eye. In The Beyond, a plumber played by Giovanni De Nova loses an eye while wandering about a flooded basement and, over the course of the narrative, several character are rendered blind, making them incapable of seeing the true horror of what they’re experiencing. Fulci struggled with diabetes and the threat of blindness runs through almost all of his horror films.)
The Beyond starts with a striking, sepia-toned sequence that’s set in the year 1927. While a young woman named Emily (played Cinzia Monreale) reads from a book, a mob attacks a painter named Schweik. They believe Schweik to be a warlock and they view his grotesque paintings as being proof. (In many ways, the mob is comparable to the critics who insisted on judging Fulci solely based on the subject matter of his films while ignoring the skill with which Fulci directed them.) Schweik is tortured and left crucified in the basement of the Seven Doors Hotel in New Orleans, Louisiana.
Jump forward 54 years. A woman named Liza (Catriona MacColl, who appeared in different roles in all three of the Beyond films) has inherited the long-closed Seven Doors Hotel and she’s moved down to New Orleans to reopen it. Unfortunately, her efforts to renovate the place aren’t going smoothly. It’s been one disaster after another, almost as if someone or something is trying to keep her from reopening the place. The latest was the flooded basement and the plumber who lost both his eye and his life. Of course, Liza would probably be even more concerned if she knew just what exactly it was that attacked the plumber in the first place.
While driving down one of Louisiana’s many bridges to nowhere, Liza is forced to come to a stop when she sees a blind woman and her guide dog standing in front of her car. The woman is Emily, who doesn’t appear to have aged at all since we last saw her. Emily is now blind. She tells Liza that her hotel was once home to an evil warlock and she warns her to stay out Room 36.
Meanwhile, the plumber’s wife and his daughter visit the plumber’s corpse in the morgue. This not only leads to the plumber and several other dead people coming to life but it also leads to an accident with a beaker of acid that was, for some reason, sitting on a desk. Soon, the daughter is blind herself. On the plus side, all of the drama at the hospital does give Liza a chance to meet Dr. John McCabe (played by the always welcome David Warbeck).
Fulci never got much credit for his work with actors. (Some of that, of course, is due to the fact that most of Fulci’s film were atrociously dubbed for overseas release.) However, The Beyond is definitely one of the best-acted of all of his films. In fact, one reason why we stick with the film even when things start to get really, really weird is because we genuinely like Liza and John. Warbeck and MacColl had a lot of chemistry and, in the midst of all the mayhem, they created two very real characters. Cinzia Monreale is also impressive in the role of Emily. Fulci made good use of her other-worldly beauty and Monreale keeps us wondering whether Emily is trying to help of Liza or if she has a secret agenda of her own.
(Towards the end of the film, during a zombie siege, there’s a scene where John and Liza get in an elevator and, as the doors close, Warbeck tries to reload a gun by forcing a bullet down the gun’s barrel. MacColl sees what he’s doing and breaks character, laughing as the doors close. The Italian crew apparently did not realize that Warbeck was playing a joke because this was the take that they used in the film. Needless to say, it temporarily takes you out of the film and yet it’s such a charming moment that you can’t help but love it. It’s nice to see that with all the grotesque insanity going on around them, Warbeck and MacColl were having fun.)
The Beyond gets progressively more bizarre as it continues. It doesn’t take long for Fulci to abandon any pretense of traditional narrative and the film soon becomes a collection of vaguely connected, increasingly surreal set pieces. A man goes to a library and ends up getting eaten by an army of spiders. Ghouls suddenly roam through the hallways of the hospital. Yet another person loses an eye, this time to a loose nail. Another relatively minor character suddenly has a hole in her head. A chase through the hospital’s basement leads to the characters somehow finding themselves back in the hotel. And finally, we go to the Beyond….
This is going to be heresy to some but, as much as I appreciate it, The Beyond is actually not my favorite Fulci film. Overall, Zombi 2 is my favorite and, as far as the trilogy goes, I actually prefer The House By The Cemetery. That said, The Beyond is the film that best exemplifies Fulci’s cinematic philosophy. Fulci called it pure cinema, the idea that if your visuals are strong and properly edited together, the audience will use them to supply their own narrative. That’s certainly the case in The Beyond. A lot happens in The Beyond and it’s not always clear how everything’s related. But since every scene is full of Fulci’s trademark style, the viewers builds the necessary connections in their own mind. The end result is a film that, perhaps more than any other Fulci film, capture the feel of having a dream. It’s not a film that will be appreciated by everyone. Fulci’s work rarely is. Still, for fans of Italian horror, The Beyond is one of the key films.
Fulci followed The Beyond with one of his best-known movies, The House By The Cemetery. I’ll look at that film tomorrow.
In New York City, a group of people sit around a table, holding a seance. One of them, a woman named Mary (Catriona MacColl) has a vision. She sees a sickly, hollow-cheeked priest walking through a cemetery. She watches as he hangs himself and, as the priest dangles from a tree branch, Mary lets out a piercing scream and collapses to the floor. The police are called and they promptly declare that Mary has died. Later, while a hard-boiled reporter named Peter Bell (Christopher George) watches as two grave-diggers walk away from her half-buried coffin, he hears something coming from the grave. From insider her coffin, Mary is screaming and struggling to get out!
Peter grabs a pickax and smashes it down into the coffin. Peter may be trying to free her but what he doesn’t realize is that, with each blow of the pickax, he comes dangerously close to hitting Mary in the face. Somehow, Peter manages to avoid killing Mary. Once he gets her out of the coffin, Peter and Mary go and see a medium to try to figure out the meaning behind Mary’s previous vision.
What they don’t discuss is why or, for that matter, how everyone was convinced that Mary was dead for at least a day or two. Mary doesn’t mention that Peter nearly killed her with the pickax. In fact, for two people who have just met under the strangest and most disturbing of circumstances, Peter and Mary seem to be getting along famously. For that matter, they don’t appear to be too surprised when the medium informs them Mary’s vision indicated that the dead will soon be entering the world of the living.
And so begins Lucio Fulci’s wonderfully odd and surreal City of the Living Dead. Reading the paragraphs above, you might think that I was criticizing City of the Living Dead but nothing could be further from the truth. From the start, Fulci establishes that City of the Living Dead is going to fully embrace its own unique aesthetic.
The majority of City of the Living Dead takes place in a small town with the name of Dunwich, a name that immediately (and, I believe, intentionally) brings to mind the writing of H.P. Lovecraft. Dunwich is a town that always seems to be covered in fog. At the local bar, men talk about the recent suicide of Father Thomas and they discuss what to do about Bob (Giovanni Lombardo Radice), who the majority of them believe to be a a pervert. Meanwhile, Bob comes across an inflatable sex doll in a deserted warehouse and, for the most part, just tries to stay out of everyone’s way.
Even without the presence of the living dead, Dunwich doesn’t seem like the ideal place to live. A greedy morgue attendant attempts to steal a dead woman’s jewelry. A psychiatrist named Gerry (Carlo de Mejo) struggles to calm the nerves of his patient, Sandra (Janet Agren). At one point, one man gets so angry with another that he drills a hole in his head. That’s Dunwich, for you. Who needs the dead when you’re surrounded by the worst of the living?
Speaking of the dead, that dead priest is still wandering around town. When he comes across two teenagers making out in a jeep, he rips open the boy’s head while the girl bleeds from her eyes and proceeds to vomit up her intestines. (Somewhat inevitably, the boy is played by Michele Soavi who, before launching his own acclaimed directing career, always seemed to die in films like this. Even more inevitably, the girl is played Daniela Doria, who appeared in four Fulci films and suffered a terrible fate in every single one of them.)
By the time that Peter and Mary actually reach the town, the dead are already moving through the fog while storms of maggots crash through windows. Even the sight of a seemingly innocent child running towards the camera leads to the sound of people screaming off-screen….
Even though it’s actually one of Fulci’s more straight-forward films (i.e., a character says that Dunwich is going to be overrun by zombies and then Dunwich actually is overrun by zombies), it still plays out like a particularly intense dream. From the fog-shrouded visuals to the often odd dialogue, City of the Living Dead is a film that plays out according to its own unique logic. The film’s surreal atmosphere may have partially been the result of a rushed production schedule but it also serves to suggest that, as a result of the priest’s suicide, the nature of reality itself has changed.
City of the Living Dead is not a film for everyone. If I was introducing someone to Fulci for the first time, I would probably have them watch Zombi 2, The Black Cat andLizard In A Woman’s Skin long before I even suggested they take a look at City of the Living Dead. That City of the Living Dead is a gory film should come as no surprise. That was one of Fulci’s trademarks, after all. Instead, what makes City of the Living Dead a difficult viewing experience for some is just how bleak the film truly is. Even before the living dead arrive, Dunwich is a town the seems to epitomize the worst instincts of humanity. There’s a darkness at the heart of the City of the Living Dead and it has nothing to do with zombies.
First released in 1980, City of the Living Dead is generally considered to be the first part of Fulci’s Beyond trilogy. Catriona MacColl, who gives such a good performance here, appeared in the film’s two follow-ups, The Beyond and The House By The Cemetery. (MacColl played a different character in each film.) With each film, Fulci’s vision grew more and more surreal until eventually, he seemed fully prepared to reject the idea of narrative coherence all together.
Though initially dismissed by critics, The Beyond trilogy is today celebrated as one of the greatest achievements in the history of Italian horror. City of the Living Dead is probably the most narratively coherent film in the trilogy, even if its ending raises more questions than it answers. Personally, I love the ending of City of the Living Dead, even though it was apparently a last-minute decision. (According to Wikipedia — so take this with a grain of salt — someone spilled coffee on the original work print of the ending, which led to Fulci having to improvise.) It’s an ending that suggests that not only has the film broken apart but that the world is shattering right along with it. In the end, the world falls apart not with a bang but with one long scream.
You’re a college student. You’re a member of a sorority. You start your day by waking up in a stranger’s bed, with a hangover. When you walk across campus, you blow off the girl trying to get you to sign her anti-climate change petition. When you get back to your sorority house, you’re rude to her roommate and refuse to eat the birthday cupcake that she made for you. You body shame a girl at lunch. You’re sleeping with one of your professors. You’re rude to your father. You’re going to a party.
Oh! And did I mention that you’re in a slasher film and that there’s a really creepy figure wearing a baby mask who is following you around?
Seriously, you are so dead.
That’s the situation that Theresa “Tree” Gelbman (Jessica Rothe) finds herself in 2017’s Happy Death Day. It’s her birthday and, unfortunately, she’s murdered at the end of it. Of course, if you’ve ever seen in a slasher film, it’s not a shock when Tree dies. She’s the quintessential self-centered girl who always gets killed in these type of movies.
(For the record, I would probably die within the first ten minutes of any slasher film.)
However, in Tree’s case, she gets another chance. And then another one after that. And then, another one after that… every night, Tree dies. Every morning, Tree wakes up in the dorm room of Carter Davis (Israel Broussard) and she has to relive the last day of her life all over again.
To the film’s credit, it doesn’t take long for Tree to realize that she’s in a time loop. (Also, to the film’s credit, Carter specifically points out that Tree’s story sounds exactly like the plot of Groundhog Day. “What’s that?” Tree asks. Carter explains that it’s a film with Bill Murray. “Who’s Bill Murray?” Tree replies.) Once Tree figures out that she’s going to have to keep living the same day over and over again, she sets out trying not to die. She doesn’t go to the party but that just means that the killer comes to her. She tries to spend a day barricaded in her dorm room, just to find that the killer is hiding in a corner. She follows the various suspects around as they go about their day. It seems like no matter what she does, she can’t keep the killer from catching her.
On the plus side, as a result of having to deal with the same crap over and over again, she does become a better person. She’s less rude and condescending. She grows more confident in herself and stops worrying so much about what everyone else is going to think about her. Of course, becoming a better person isn’t going to do her much good if she keeps dying every night….
Happy Death Day is a clever combination of horror and comedy. It’s a movie that’s smart enough not take itself too seriously. Even when Tree becomes a nicer person, both the character and the film retain their sarcastic edge. Even when she learns to face the world with positivity and happiness, the film seems to be gently mocking the ease by which film characters can go from being self-centered to thoroughly altruistic. Meanwhile, the killer may be frightening but again, the film mines plenty of dark humor from the character’s pure determination. No matter Tree does, that killer eventually shows up.
It’s a precarious balancing act, trying to be scary and funny at the same time. Fortunately, Happy Death Day benefits from a clever script and a good lead performance from Jessica Rothe. Rothe gives an intelligent and empathetic performance as Tree. It’s impossible not to sympathize with her frustration as she wakes up to discover that she has to go through the exact same day yet again. It’s a sign of the strength of Rothe’s performance that you sympathize with Tree even before she becomes a nicer person.
Happy Death Day is a clever film and one that I’m surprised to say I missed when it was originally released. If you also missed it, now’s a great time to catch it!
Today’s horror on the lens in 1959’s The Four Skulls of Jonathan Drake. It’s a film about a family, a zombie, decapitation, and a family curse. Someone is murdering all of the descendants of the legendary Captain Drake. Can Jonathan Drake be saved or is he destined to become just another skull?
The Four Skulls of Jonathan Drake is an atmospheric little movie, one that treats its potentially campy plot with the utmost seriousness.
Both on his own and as a member of Goblin. Claudio Simonetti has been responsible for some of the most iconic scores in the history of Italian horror cinema. He is probably best known for Goblin’s score for Dario Argento’s Suspiria. The minute you hear the opening of that score, you are immediately transported into Argento’s nightmarish world of witches, death, and ballet.
In 1999, Simonetti formed Daemonia, a heavy mental band that played updated version of his classic horror scores, along with new material. In this video, they perform Suspiria and the end result is a perfect video for October!
The 1987 film Near Dark is the story of two American families.
The Coltons are a family of ranchers living Oklahoma. Loy Colton (Tim Thomerson) is the patriarch, keeping a watchful eye on his children, Caleb (Adrian Pasdar) and Sarah (Marcie Leeds). Caleb is a cowboy and a nice guy, even if he does seem to be a little bit too naive for his own good. After Caleb disappears one night, Loy and Sarah start their own search, traveling across the back roads of the Southwest.
The other family may not share any biological relation to one another but they definitely share blood. They’re a group of outcasts who have found each other and now spend their nights searching for people who can satisfy their hunger. They’re vampires, even though that’s not a word that they tend to use. (In fact, for all the blood-sucking that goes on throughout the film, the term “vampire” is never actually heard.) At night, they’re all-powerful but during the day, even the slightly exposure to the sun can set them on fire.
The patriarch of this family is Jesse Hooker (Lance Henriksen), a scarred war veteran. Jesse will do anything to protect the members of his family but he expects each of them to pull their weight. At one point, when Jesse is asked how old he is, he says that he fought for the South and that the South lost.
Jesse’s girlfriend is Diamondback (Jenette Goldstein), who is just as ruthless as Jesse. Filling the role of oldest son is Severen (Bill Paxton), a cocky gunslinger with a quick smile and cruel sense of humor. Homer (Joshua Miller) appears to be a 12 year-old boy but he’s actually one of the older and more violent members of the family. And then there’s Mae (Jenny Wright), the rebellious daughter.
Mae is the one who first met and bit Caleb. She’s the one who turned Caleb into one of them, though it takes Caleb a while to not only discover but also understand what he’s become. When Caleb tries to escape from Mae and his new family, he becomes violently ill. He can no longer eat human food but, at the same time, he can’t bring himself to hunt. Instead, he’s forced to drink whatever blood Mae can provide for him. Even when Jesse’s group attacks a redneck bar, one cowboy manages to escape, specifically because Caleb cannot bring himself to kill him.
What is Caleb to do? He can’t return to his old family, as much as he may want to. (It doesn’t help that Homer has developed an obsession with Caleb’s sister, Sarah.) At the same time, his new family says that they’re going to kill him unless he starts hunting for blood. They only thing keeping Caleb alive is the fact that Mae likes him and even she’s telling him that he’s going to have to hunt.
Meanwhile, Loy continues his own hunt, the hunt for his son….
Long before she became the first female director to win an Oscar for The Hurt Locker, Kathryn Bigelow directed this stylish vampire film. Visually, Bigelow emphasizes the emptiness of the Southwestern plains. Looking at the desolate landscape, it’s easy to believe that Jesse and his family could use them to successfully hide from the rest of the world. It’s also just as easy to believe that a well-meaning but not particularly bright young man like Caleb could get lost and not be able to find his way home. Bigelow turns the vampire family into a group of modern-day outlaws, crossing the land in their sun-proofed vehicles and trying to stay one step ahead of modern-day posses made up by concerned families and law enforcement officers who don’t know what they’re getting into.
Even if not for Bigelow’s stylish direction, the film would be a classic for just the cast alone. Henriksen, Paxton, and Goldstein all previously appeared in James Cameron’s Aliens and they have a camaraderie that feels real. In fact, the vampires work so well together that it’s impossible not to kind of admire them. They’ve got it together and, even when faced with an army of police officers determined to make them step out into the sunlight, they don’t lose their sardonic sense of humor. The much missed Bill Paxton’s performance is a hyperactive marvel, both menacing and sexy at the same time. Meanwhile, Jenny Wright and Adrian Pasdar have a likable chemistry as Mae and Caleb while Tim Thomerson makes Loy’s love and concern for his son feel so real that adds an unexpected emotional depth to the overall movie. The script, written by Eric Red and Bigelow, is full of quotable dialogue and the cast takes full advantage of it.
Near Dark is vampire classic and definitely one to watch this Halloween season.
For today’s horror on the lens, we have the 1970 made-for-TV movie, Night Slaves!
In this atmospheric film, an estranged married couple (James Franciscus and Lee Grant) find themselves in a small town. It seems like a friendly enough place. I mean, Leslie Nielsen is the sheriff! How could anything go wrong in a town protected by Leslie Nielsen?
However, at night, the town changes. Only Franciscus seems to notice all of the townspeople wandering about like zombies. Is he going crazy or has he stumbled across something sinister?
I was really excited when I first came across this video because I assumed that it was about a bunch of possums.
Then I found out that actually, the song was named after Possum Kingdom Lake, which is a real lake down here in Texas. Unfortunately, I’ve never seen any possums at Possum Kingdom Lake but I assume that there must be a few around because, otherwise, the name would be inaccurate, right?
Anyway, when I first heard the song, I thought it was about a vampire. Then I had my BFF Evelyn listen to it and she thought it was about a serial killer. It turns out that we’re both wrong. According to the lead singer of the Toadies, the song was actually about a ghost who was inviting someone to join him in the netherworld.
By the way, this video was shot in Dallas. Woo hoo! Overall, it’s a good song, though the “so help me, Jesus” stuff feels a bit forced. And it’s a good video, full of atmosphere and menace. It’s a perfect video for our October Horrorthon!
Through the Shattered Lens 