"A REALLY INTELLIGENT INTERVIEWER." -- Lance Henriksen "QUITE SIMPLY, THE BEST HORROR-THEMED BLOG ON THE NET." -- Joe Maddrey,Nightmares in Red White & Blue
Deck the halls and all that jazz, Vault dwellers! We are but a few days away from the single most commercialized holiday of the year, and that can only mean one thing for The Lucky 13... That's right, we're taking a look at our favorite Yuletide-themed horror flicks. Here's hoping all my gentile friends have a beautiful Jesus B-Day this year, but in the meantime, check out what we've put together below--and be sure to also head over to Brutal as Hell for their Santalicious choices...
B-Sol on The Nightmare Before Christmas
I had debated whether or not to include this as my Halloween pick, since it could arguably work for both holidays. But I've always felt, first and foremost, that Tim Burton and Henry Selick's 1993 masterpiece is a Christmas movie. A very twisted and deliciously deviant Christmas movie, but a Christmas movie nonetheless. And it truly is such a unique motion picture--what is there not to love?
I mean, really... Have you ever come across someone who didn't like this flick? I know I haven't. It's a brilliant work of art, a triumph of stop-motion animation, and a refreshing change from the usual stale holiday fare. I can't recommend it enough for your family's festivities. It really is a beautiful motion picture, with superb art direction, the usual terrific music by Danny Elfman, and of course...that irreplaceable, completely wacked-out Burton sensibility.
I happen to be a big-time Christmas person (although Halloween has been gaining in recent years, natch), and so a movie like this one really does warm my heart. It's got pathos without being treacly, it gets to the very core of the holiday spirit without getting preachy, and best of all, it never fails to be entertaining. Plus, it's one hell of a marvel to look at. I never get tired of it, and really, it's the type of film whose greatness precedes it.
If there's one thing we know about Christmas, it's that nobody - no matter their religion, beliefs, or status - wants to be alone for the holiday. That's the case for both Thomas and Angela in P2, a Christmas Eve chiller from the folks behind High Tension and Piranha 3D. Angela is a business woman who is driven to succeed, and is thus working late on Christmas Eve, while Thomas is the Elvis loving security guard who haunts her building's parking structure professionally. Both have their own ideas as to what their holiday will consist of.
But there's a disconnect between their plans for this holly jolly holiday. Angela wants to get home to her family, who are already disappointed that she's running behind again; Thomas just wants Angela's company and will go to any lengths to keep her around. His action plan starts with car sabotage, moves ahead to kidnapping and re-clothing (the film is certainly in contention for any awards for "Best Low Cut Dress in a Supporting Role"), and he soon escalates to trying to win Angela's heart by brutalizing the coworker who groped her at the work Christmas party. Angela has her sanity intact, and is not as receptive to Thomas' advances as he hoped she'd be. (To be fair, she should at least be thankful for that dress.)
Wes Bentley has been a fish-out-of-water type of actor for most of the years since his breakout performance in American Beauty, but here he seems to capitalize on the quiet unease we felt with his voyeuristic character in that film. As Thomas, Bentley manages to become a Jekyll-and-Hyde of sorts, balancing between portraying a socially awkward everyman and a totally homicidal maniac without going too far over the top. Offset by Rachel Nichols' Angela, who seems to be a prototypical survivor girl, the film really succeeds in presenting a Christmas nightmare for her as Thomas tries to live out his Christmas fantasy.
Though this disparity in their Christmas plans might have been more interesting at a shorter length - I'm reminded of Tales from the Crypt's wonderful "And All Through the House..." tale - the filmmakers do a fine job of filling the rest of the film with some well-executed games of cat-and-mouse and a couple of vicious scenes that establish danger while providing ample splatter. The film could have worked focusing on its setting alone (Has anything good ever happened in a parking garage?), but its Christmas conundrum makes it a fun treat for anyone who wants something more horrifying than a holiday with the in-laws.
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Join us next week for the Christmas edition of The Lucky 13 Returns!
Ring-a-ding-ding, Vault dwellers! For those heathens who may not be aware, this past weekend marked what would have been the 95th birthday of the one and only Francis Albert Sinatra, who only happens to be my very favorite musical performer of all time. And so, I managed to coerce both Brutal as Hell and the crew here into dedicating this week of The Lucky 13 Returns to horror musicals and music-related horror films in general.
So pour yourself a Jack & Coke, light up a Lucky Strike, and swing easy, baby! It's what Frank would've wanted...
B-Sol on The Wicker Man (1973)
It's interesting that this film is very often not really thought of as a musical, but it kind of is. It contains a couple of very atmospheric folk tunes from Paul Giovanni ("Corn Rigs" and "Gently Johnny") which totally stop the dramatic proceedings in their tracks. And as with most well-done films of musical bent, this does no harm to the film whatsoever--rather, it enhances it. And of course, we also have the deeply disturbing Middle English rondo "Sumer Is Icumen In" performed during the picture's chilling climax.
So we've established that the British cult classic is very much about music as well as horror. What we also need to establish is what a damn fine horror film it is. But you don't need me to tell you that. The Wicker Man is, simply put, one of the finest horror films ever made, and still has the power to shock in a very real way. Interestingly enough, the movie's sheer shock factor is in direct counterbalance to the hauntingly beautiful music featured throughout. And if anything, that juxtaposition makes the whole thing even more terrifying than it would have been otherwise.
There's a reason this film consistently makes just about every short list of the greatest horror films of all time. And while it's an even bigger deal in the U.K. than it is here in the States, it is definitely the kind of cult classic movie that needs to be seen and appreciated by all who consider themselves serious enthusiasts of the genre. Christopher Lee is at his insidious best, and of course Edward Woodward is so damn powerful in the lead role of Sgt. Howie. If you have never seen The Wicker Man (and I mean the original here--don't bother seeing the remake unless you need a good laugh), then do me a favor and fix that right away, okay? Very good.
When I first watched Wild Zero, I was pretty sure I had stepped into an alternate dimension. I had never seen anything so absurd in all my life. In fact, I am pretty sure I will never see anything quite that absurd. Wild Zero is ninety odd minutes of insanity, and it’s one of the funnest experiences one could have with a movie, but even within all that senselessness, there is something deeper going on.
Ace is obsessed with the band Guitar Wolf (played by the real-life band of the same name). When he witnesses a club owner about to hoodwink the band, he stands up for them. Ace and the band vow revenge on their double-crosser Captain. Meanwhile, space aliens land on Earth causing the dead to rise in rural Japan. As they fight for their lives, Ace falls in love with a young transgender named Tobio.
Yeah, it’s a bit of a convoluted mess, but it’s a pretty incredible one. From Guitar Wolf throwing guitar picks to protect himself to Captain’s incredibly tight hot pants, the film is an experiment in what-the-fuckery. While I might have said those words at least forty times while watching the film, I was still engrossed all the way through.
The factor that holds the whole film together is the love story. Ace and Tobio begin sweetly, but as her trans status becomes an issue the film manages to pull itself out of its own farce just enough to ally itself with a queer agenda—and all before the turn of the century. The film is incredibly entertaining, and while it might not seem like it’s coming out firmly on the side of queer politics, given its release year, it’s really quite ground-breaking. So if you decide to sit down and take in this strange little zombie romantic comedy, look forward to one of the most ludicrous activist films ever made.
C.L. Hadden of Fascination with Fear on Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007)
The legend of Sweeney Todd has been immortalized on stage and screen countless times throughout the years, and there have always been questions raised as to the validity of the supposedly true story. Starting out as a penny dreadful in the mid 1800's, it was most recently adapted for the screen in Tim Burton's 2007 version starring Johnny Depp in the title role.
Sweeney Todd: The Demon of Fleet Street is first and foremost a musical, and uses the Stephen Sondheim/Hugh Wheeler music and lyrics made popular in the late 70's Broadway smash. At once dark a dark and sinister production, the songs tell the story of Benjamin Barker (Depp), a simple man - a barber - whose life is forever changed when the corrupt Judge Turpin (the eternally impressive Alan Rickman) covets Barker's beautiful wife and goes to extremes to see her his. He throws Barker in prison on a trumped up charge and moves his heartbroken wife and young daughter into his own home.
Fifteen years later Barker is back, now calling himself Sweeney Todd. He's hellbent for revenge after he finds out his wife has poisoned herself and Turpin has his daughter Johanna (Jayne Wisener) locked away in an upstairs room of his home. He sets up a barber shop above the overly-zealous Mrs. Lovett's (Helena Bonham Carter) pie shoppe with the intent of luring Turpin there. Thing is, Todd isn't just shaving necks, he's slicing them open and sending the bodies to the basement through a trap door in the floor. Once in the bowels of the meat market the corpses are ground up and used in Mrs. Lovett's meat pies. Gah!
Oh the scandal of it all! To think something such as this would be made not only into a movie but into a musical is in and of itself a bizarre notion. But trust me, it works. A bleak and overtly grim London is portrayed in the seediest fashion imaginable, with poverty and hardship duly noted as our characters interact with not only each other but the hopeless city itself. Not a singer by trade, Depp's performance is actually more than just acceptable. He does an excellent job with the material, and had even the most wary critics backing him when the film came out. Bonham-Carter's voice isn't quite as stellar, but she certainly looks the part.
While it may seem to be a far stretch from your typical musical - and it certainly is a graphic little slice of cinema - Sweeney Todd is the musical for people who hate musicals. And it's perfect for horror fans. You do have to wait awhile for the gory carnage to start, but about halfway through the film the red stuff starts to flow freely. How they depict this on stage is beyond me, but Burton's film version not only looks amazing, but pulls off the story in fine fashion and is more than worth a look. After all, the bottom line is they are grinding people up and eating them. Even if you hate musicals, you have to admit that's pretty nasty.
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Join us next week for the Christmas edition of The Lucky 13 Returns!
Mel Brooks gave us Jews in Space, but this week in The Vault of Horror--as well as Brutal as Hell--we're giving you Jews in horror! That's right, it's Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights! And this time around in The Lucky 13 series, we're casting our oil lamps on Jewish horror directors. Specifically, I've chosen to write about my very favorite horror film by a Jewish director, and my dear colleague Ms. BJ-C of The Vault's sister blog Day of the Woman has taken an even broader approach, spotlighting three of her very favorite horror directors among the Chosen People.
So put down that dreidel, stop giving your poor mother so much shpilkes with all your meshugass, grab a bissel cake and read on...
B-Sol on The Exorcist
It may seem a tad silly selecting this film, since it could very easily top the list of most people's favorite horror movies, period--let alone horror movies from Jewish directors alone. Nevertheless, since The Exorcist went mysteriously absent from the original Lucky 13 series (Not even in the Devil & Demons category?? Come on, people!), this is my chance to right that heinous wrong.
What can possibly be said about this classic to extol its greatness that hasn't already been said? It was nominated for the Oscar for Best Picture, and remains the highest-grossing horror movie ever made. And although it has its detractors--as all great films do--there can be little doubt that The Exorcist is one of the all-time triumphs of American cinema, a crown jewel from an era that gave us so many.
With stellar performances from Ellen Burstyn, Max Von Sydow, Linda Blair and especially Jason Miller in particular as the beleaguered Father Damian Karras, this is a film of great depth and weight, finished in a way in which few horror films are finished, with the deft touch of a master auteur. It's unfortunate that Friedkin never quite equaled the heights he achieved with The Exorcist, his masterpiece, but it nevertheless remains as what it has been for much of the past four decades--not just a great horror film, but the great horror film.
BJ-C of Day of the Woman on David Cronenberg, Eli Roth & Sam Raimi
Cronenberg: Okay, so I'm sort of splitting hairs on this one, considering Cronenberg has denounced his Jewish faith and identifies himself as an atheist. Regardless, he was raised in a Jewish household and that's good enough for me. Cronenberg is easily the king of venereal horror films. No one can make a film as gruesomely intelligent as Cronenberg. His films often times explored the fear factors humans possess when it comes to infection and bodily transformations. For me, someone with an uncontrollable fear of being diagnosed with leprosy, he hits the nail on the head every. single. time. A small little tidbit is that Cronenberg was considered to be the director for Return of the Jedi, and I can honestly say that the world wouldn't have been able to handle that much awesome in one film, and the results would have been the equivalent to dividing by zero... So I guess it's a good thing he didn't pick up that job. But Cronenberg will forever be the king of body horror.
Eli Roth: Oh, Eli Roth, you sexy sexy bear Jew, you. As much as the world is fully aware of how much of a douchebag you are in real life, I can't take away the fact that you directed some of the most highly thought-of horror films of the last decade. Personally, I disliked Hostel, but I'd be a fool if I denied the fact that his films have developed an almost cult-like following. Roth definitely has a fiery passion for the genre and for that, he has my respect. As for his actions on Twitter towards other horror journalists... he's on the fence ;)
Sam Raimi: Alright, Sam Raimi is the God of my world. He gave me our savior, Bruce Campbell, and his Necronomicon Ex Mortis serves as my Holy Word. There is absolutely nothing that this man touches that didn't turn to perfection. I'm including Spider-Man 3. There, I said it.
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Join us next wee for an edition of the Lucky 13 that will be very near and dear to my heart... as we commemorate Frank Sinatra's birthday weekend with a look at our favorite musical horror films! Ring-a-ding-ding, baby!
Pass the cranberry sauce, would you? Yes, folks, it's the time of year to give thanks once again--and also to gorge ourselves on food and pass out in a tryptophan coma on the living room couch. It's Thanksgiving! And I don't know about you, but I'm thankful each and every year for the opportunity to share my love of horror with the world via this little musty corner of the interwebs. As part of that gratefulness, we here in the Vault, and over at Brutal as Hell, have turned this edition of the Lucky 13 over to everyone's favorite turkey-related holiday.
You might be asking, just how many Thanksgiving-themed horror flicks are there? And you'd have a valid point, as this was one of the more challenging installments to put together (hence the anemic number of contributions). Still, I got a little creative, and I hope you enjoy our offerings this week. Also, enjoy Thursday, and make sure not to overdo it. OK, overdo it all you want--what am I, your mother?
B-Sol on Godzilla vs. The Smog Monster (1971)
I know what you're thinking. What on earth does a giant irradiated lizard doing battle with a massive mountain of sludge have to do with Thanksgiving? Clearly, you didn't grow up in the Northeastern U.S. during the 1970s and 1980s. Because if you did, you'd know that Thanksgiving was the day they carted out all the giant monster movies to show on syndicated TV.
Don't ask me why they did it, but it was just like getting to see the Wizard of Oz every year on Easter. It never failed that each Thanksgiving, WWOR Channel 9 (I believe it was) would dust off such gems as King Kong, Son of Kong, Mighty Joe Young, and more Godzilla films than you could shake a spiky tail at.
By far, my favorite amongst them was Godzilla vs. The Smog Monster, a.k.a. Godzilla vs. Hedorah. In fact, it was a highlight of the holiday for me, and I would look forward to sitting on the floor cross-legged in front of the TV after the big dinner to take in all the Toho goodness while my uncles and aunts snored away all around me. Wonderul times...
Why did this one stand out so much for me? Do you need to ask? Animated interludes... The classic hippie environmentalist theme song, "Save the Earth"... The funkiest Godzilla foe of them all... And best of all, some really messed up imagery--this was one of the darkest and most violent of the classic Godzilla movies, for sure. It's easy to understand why I loved it so much. And why I miss those Thanksgivings of yore...
When I think of all the delightful trappings of the Thanksgiving holiday (the cold weather, the brotherhood, and the heaping piles of succulent meat), the only film that immediately comes to my mind is the backwoods be-bad-or-be-eaten bonanza known as Ravenous. Although the film didn’t fare well with critics upon its initial release (or at the box office), this cannibalistic comedy immediately dug its way into my heart right on my first viewing of the film.
From the minute that our sniveling hero John Boyd enters the confines of Fort Spencer with its ragtag group of eccentrics and crazies, I could tell that this was just one of those types of movies that seemed to be made solely for myself. Things only get better when the ever-charismatic Robert Carlyle arrives on the scene, and the film is pumped up a few gory and insane notches once he reveals his true flesh-hungry identity. The rest of the movie plays out as a good vs. evil skin munching demon-type scenario, with Pearce’s stoic John Boyd attempting to take down Carlyle’s devilishly charming Colqhoun before the mad faux-colonel can feast on all the inhabitants of the base.
There’s much dark humor to be had in the film, mostly due to Carlyle’s unique dining habits. Ranging from the absurdly silly (David Arquette screaming “He was licking my foot!”) to the fiendishly black (the strangely hunger-inducing scene of the troops sitting down for a steaming bowl of homo sapien), the comedy in Ravenous never overwhelms the sense of terror that it manages to pull off simultaneously, keeping the film completely balanced on the tight rope that separates horror from humor.
Although even I can’t claim Ravenous to be a cinematic masterpiece, I also cannot deny the massive amount of ghoulish fun that I have when watching it. There are deeper themes touched upon in the movie, such as Boyd’s search for redemption for his acts of cowardice. But let’s face it. When you get down to it, you end up watching Ravenous just so you can see a blood-soaked pilgrim chase down his dinner to the twangy plucks of a banjo. It’s a viewing experience in the best tradition of the holiday (although you should probably save this one for when the kids go to bed after the Charlie Brown special). Set the table, pop in the DVD, and good God let’s eat already.
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Head over to Brutal as Hell to see what Marc and the gang have cooked up! And join us next week when the Lucky 13 will have something very special in store for Hanukkah... I'm verklempt just thinking about it!
They say that war is hell, and hell is certainly familiar territory for the horror genre. Therefore, it's pretty easy to see that war would provide a perfect backdrop for some genuinely terrifying cinema. Truth be told, there are quite a few horrifying war films which are technically not actual horror films. War is horrible enough, in and of itself.
That said, there have been a number of powerful horror films revolving around the subject, and we here in the Vault and over at Brutal as Hell decided that in honor of Veteran's Day, we'd devote this week's Lucky 13 edition to just a few of them. So read on, and please make sure to thank a veteran, if you haven't already done so. In their efforts to protect us and all we hold dear, they faced down horrors far worse than anything seen in the movies...
B-Sol on Pan's Labyrinth (2006)...
There may be no greater visionary working in cinema today than Guillermo Del Toro, and Pan's Labyrinth was quite possibly his finest hour. It is a visual feast--a twisted, nightmarish look at childhood, seen against the backdrop of Fascist Spain during World War II. This is a film of great power, a visceral experience in a very real sense.
I've always been fascinated by fantasy and dark fairy tales. The origins of the Brothers Grimm stories in particular have always held a certain allure. And quite simply, Pan's Labyrinth is a potent distillation of that whole vibe, brought to life as only someone with the talent of a Del Toro could've ever done.
And through it all, what impresses me the most is the way in which such a bizarre, supernatural narrative could be so successfully juxtaposed with the very real setting in which our young protagonist finds herself. There is perhaps no monster in the film more terrifying than her own sadistic and brutal father, a cold and calculating captain in the Spanish army. The horrors of war are contrasted intriguingly with the horrors of a totally unearthly realm, and it makes for some unforgettable viewing.
Pan's Labyrinth is the kind of film that reminds us that as terrified as we may be of the unknown, there is perhaps nothing worse than the horrors of the familiar, and of the real. It is a treat for the senses, and my personal favorite horror film dealing with the subject of war.
War is hell, as they say. And sometimes that hell can invade the peace of the home and hearth. Such was the story of Andy Brooks, the main character in director Bob Clark’s fourth feature film Deathdream. Having previously tickled our morbid spines with 1972’s ghoulish Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things, Clark takes us down a completely different and dark road with this tale of battle scars that never heal.
When Andy returns home from fighting in the jungles of Vietnam, he’s not at all well. In fact, his father and sister were originally told that Andy had died in combat, so his appearance back home is peculiar to say the least. Dedicated fans of the horror genre could probably tell where the narrative is about to go at this point, but the film nevertheless manages to chill in its depiction of Andy’s terrifying transformation. The veteran soldier covers up his body from the sunlight with turtlenecks and gloves… and has an insatiable thirst for blood. He has become, for all intents and purposes, a vampire.
Deathdream though, much like George Romero’s Martin from the same decade, deals with the complex psychological implications of carrying a “curse” instead of focusing on the supernatural aesthetics of the scenario. Andy’s transgression into a walking nightmare provides moments in the film that are fraught with tension and dread. Clark lets us know that he isn’t messing around, starting right from the moment Andy brutally crushes the family dog in a chillingly inhuman manner. Like he was in combat, Andy cannot stop his killer instincts from getting the better of him as more and more people meet death at his hands.
It’s a potent metaphor for the tragic state in which some troops have been known to suffer from upon their return to their countries. Clark’s masterful direction of the story allows him to breathe life into this metaphor, and it never once becomes heavy-handed. It remains heart-wrenching up until the very end, with a climax in which Andy’s mother weeps over the living, rotting corpse of what was once her son as it desperately tries to dig itself back into its grave. It’s a moment that truly has to rank amongst one of the saddest scenes in horror history. And it’s on this grim note that Clark reminds us that, sometimes, life too can be hell.
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Join us next week for The Lucky 13, when we give thanks for our favorite Turkey Day horror flicks...
There's a chill in the air. The warmth of summer has decidedly past. The leaves are turning. There's no doubt about it. As it does every year, nature is turning against us. Only lucky for us, we'll probably all survive it, more or less. But what about those extreme circumstances--when nature takes a look at man and says, to quote the little Marie in Rocky, "Screw you, creepo!"
Well, that makes for some seriously panic-inducing horror. It's a deep-seated fear in humankind, this notion that the natural world is against us, or can snuff us out in the blink of an eye. Whether its the weather, or the myriad flora and fauna that teem on its surface, Earth is not always the safest place to be. So join us this week, both here and over at Brutal as Hell, as we take a look at our favorite "Man vs. Nature" horror films...
B-Sol on Them! (1954)
It really doesn't get much scarier than giant, radioactive ants. There have been a whole slew of films about massive insects turning on humanity, but by my estimation, the granddaddy of them all will always be Gordon Douglas' 1954 masterpiece of atomic-era creature horror--THEM!
It all starts with a little girl in the middle of the desert, frightened beyond the capacity to speak? Why, you ask? Well, because she's witnessed the massive ants trudging their way through the New Mexico desert, tearing apart the silence with that ear-splitting, unearthly chattering. From there, the grown-ups discover exactly what's got her spooked, and before you know it, all manner of scientists and military men are enlisted to stave off the very dire threat.
Them! was one of a series of films that warned against the dangers of nuclear testing. It was because of that testing that the ants grew to such gargantuan proportions and set their sights on us. Granted, that might be an unrealistic scenario, but the message is clear: It's not nice to fool with Mother Nature. Bottom line, you mess with the natural order of things at your own peril. Man saw fit to split the atom, and as a result, he's forced to pay the price for his arrogance.
Them! is one of the all-time classic horror films of the so-called "Silver Age" of the genre. And the best part about it, when you get right down to it? Still, after all these years, those ants, with their cold eyes and incessant screeching, still have the power to chill the blood.
Every now and then you find a movie that seems to have been made with you in mind. The filmmakers must have been doing research on you specifically to come up with a concept that is so unique to you and you alone. I mean, really, how could anyone know that you, say, have thing for giant bunnies attacking a small town in Arizona? Night of the Lepus, it seems, was made specifically for me.
Cole Hillman is experiencing a plague of rabbits on his Arizona ranch. When he asks resident scientists to help him out with the problem, the consequences are... well, they're just so charming. Roy and Gerry Bennett (Stuart Whitman and Janet effing Leigh) get their experimentin' on to see what they can do to help save Hillman's ranch. When they inject a single rabbit with a hormone meant to weed out the population, their daughter--proving once again that children are evil and must be destroyed--accidentally releases the rabbit into the wild.
As the rabbit runs about in the wild, it grows to an incredible size. (One thinks this could have been the progenitor of the human growth hormone, no?) It doesn't take long for this rabbit to get it on with other rabbits, as rabbits are wont to do. And the town is soon faced with a plague of super-enormous rabbits. What will our heroes do to save Arizona from this scourge of furry-faced fiends?
Yeah, you see, Night of the Lepus sounds like a piece of dookie. And you know, you'd be right to assume that's just what it is. It is, after all, about giant bunny rabbits attacking a town. But the film is also an exercise in pure amusement. Though the first forty minutes of the film are largely rabbit-less, it works well to build up suspense and make our first viewing of a killer bunny--in an old mine shaft--all the more exciting.
As the irritating child of our scientists lurks about in the mine shaft, she discovers one of our enormous bunnies viciously attacking the already-dead body of a miner. This image is complete with bright red paint-like blood smeared all over our bunny's face. It's a shining moment, my friends, and I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that I nearly fell off my couch for the laughing.
After this first viewing, we are treated to many more shots of our killer bunnies. And here's how it goes. We see regular-sized pet bunnies attacking a teeny-tiny set of this Arizona town. And trust me when I tell you there is nothing better than watching cute, furry little buggers hop all over a fake town. It's, as I said, terribly charming.
I suppose therein lies the problem. If you see it as a problem, which I, obviously, do not. This movie is not scary at all. But really, do we want it to be? Do we want to have nightmares of giant bunnies? Well, I suppose, yes, the best of us do want that, but the point is in the joy of the affair and not the terror. You'll laugh. You'll cry. Oh what a time you'll have. After all, who doesn't love a movie that includes this line: "Attention! Attention! Ladies and gentlemen, attention! There is a herd of killer rabbits headed this way and we desperately need your help!"
While not a horror film, The Edge (1997) is man vs. nature at its best. Starring Anthony Hopkins and Alec Baldwin, it is a tale of survival, jealousy, and betrayal - with a heaping handful of adventure and some fairly gruesome sequences tied in.
Charles (Hopkins), a brilliant yet reserved billionaire, makes a trip to Alaska to accompany his fashion model wife Mickey (Elle Macpherson, not straying too far from type, obviously) on a photo shoot. It’s obvious from the get-go that she and her principal photographer Bob (Baldwin) share more than just a work-oriented relationship, and when Charles and Bob go further north with another assistant, Steven (LOST’s Harold Perrineau), and a bush pilot to look for a better vantage point for the shoot, things become strained. It’s quickly evident that while helpless and abandoned in the woods, Bob considers it a fantastic time to quite possibly just kill Charles so he can return and continue to woo the old money-bags’ wife and walk into some easy money.
When the plane crashes, killing the pilot and leaving the other three men stranded deep in the Alaskan wilderness, true colors are shown and tempers flare. Adding to the already distressing condition of simply being left in the wild with your enemy and dealing with the harsh weather conditions, they have the dreadful misfortune of pissing off a 1500 pound Kodiak grizzly bear with terrifying results.
At first, Charles tries to reassure the men with his book-smart acumen, telling them all will be fine, and they will simply walk out of the woods if no one comes for them. But as time goes by without rescue, they start walking in circles and they meet up with not only the man-killing bear (several heart-pounding times) but with hunger, disorientation, and blame, it becomes a struggle to stay alive and recognize who the true enemy really is.
A thrilling adventure, The Edge also has the added benefit of being scored by the late great Jerry Goldsmith - and it’s a positively superb accompaniment. Well acted and all-too realistic (yeah, Bart the Bear did his own stunts!), The Edge should find an audience with horror fans looking for some survival frights - it certainly has more than enough of that to go around.
Vault contributor Paige MacGregor on Jaws (1975)
It is an undeniable fact that then 28-year-old Steven Spielberg’s first major motion picture, Jaws, changed the face of film forever. The film cost approximately $8 million to produce and became the first summer “blockbuster”, making $7 million during its opening weekend alone. The movie is best known for the iconic great white shark that terrorizes a small New England island community called Amity, but it isn’t the shark that makes Jaws my favorite “man vs. nature” horror film.
I hadn’t been exposed to many horror films when I first saw Jaws, and I have to admit that the movie really freaked me out. It would be years before I watched something like Hostel and became accustomed to the amount of blood and gore is frequently featured in contemporary horror movies, and for that reason Jaws seemed pretty gruesome those first few times I watched it. Of course, the really freaky part of Jaws is the fact that viewers can’t see the shark for the majority of the film (due to technical malfunctions with the robotic shark, “Bruce”, which prevented cameramen from capturing many of Spielberg’s planned shots), and as a result of this technique in combination with the film’s infamous soundtrack suspense builds, ultimately creating the movie’s reputation as an iconic “man vs. nature” picture.
I continue to watch Jaws time and time again not because of the shark, however, but based on the performances given by the film’s main cast: Roy Scheider (The French Connection, SeaQuest 2032) as Amity police Chief Martin Brody, Richard Dreyfuss (Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Mr. Holland’s Opus) as Marine scientist and shark expert Matt Hooper, and especially Robert Shaw’s (From Russia with Love, The Sting) portrayal of the old sea salt shark hunter Sam Quint. Between Quint’s repeated rendition of “Spanish Ladies” and the interesting and often comedy-ridden dialogue and interactions that arise from three disparate men sharing a common goal—to kill the man-eating shark—I can’t decide if I’d rather have Quint, Hooper, and Brody as three crazy uncles (okay, maybe two uncles and a cousin) or as beer-drinking, shark-hunting buddies.
Regardless, the scene from Jaws that will forever be emblazoned in my mind is Quint’s monologue about the sinking of the USS Indianapolis: “Sometimes that shark he looks right into ya. Right into your eyes. And, you know, the thing about a shark... he's got lifeless eyes. Black eyes. Like a doll's eyes.” Thankfully, Spielberg’s initial plan to cast Sterling Hayden (Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, The Godfather) as Quint fell through because of some issues between Hayden and the Internal Revenue Service and Robert Shaw was brought on board to play the veteran. It’s not often that a single scene makes or breaks an entire film for me, but when it comes to Jaws I highly doubt that I’d be as devoted a fan if Scheider, Dreyfuss and Shaw weren’t cast as the three main characters. After all, can you imagine someone else saying, “You’re gonna need a bigger boat”?
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Join us next week for The Lucky 13, when we honor Veterans Day with a look at the horrors of war...
Well, well, well--here we are again. Last summer, The Vault of Horror joined forces with Brutal as Hell to bring you a special series entitled The Lucky 13. Over the course of 13 weeks, the staff of both sites selected their favorite horror films in 13 different sub-genres. We all had a lot of fun, and I like to think it resulted in a lot of thought-provoking reading.
And now, because it was so much fun, BAH impresario Marc Patterson and myself have decided to revisit the whole thing with 13 more horrific categories. This time around, given the time of year, it's all about holiday- and seasonal-related horror (more or less). And what better way to kick things off than with a look at our very favorite Halloween movies?
Unfortunately, we're off to a bit of a slow start this week, but we've still got a couple of fine Halloween offerings from myself and VOH staffer Paige MacGregor. Stay tuned for more contributors in the coming weeks. And be sure to check out Brutal as Hell for their favorite Halloween picks!
B-Sol on Trick 'r Treat
Just a few years ago, Michael Dougherty crafted what can only be described as an unqualified holiday classic. From here on in, let it be known: You watch It's a Wonderful Life on Christmas, Darby O'Gill & The Little People on St. Patrick's Day, Yankee Doodle Dandy on the Fourth of July... and Trick 'r Treat on Halloween. It's as simple as that.
What I truly love about this film is the fact that most of it deals directly with the terrors of children, or is in some way tied into Halloween from a kid's perspective. This connects to something primal in all of us--that kernel deep down inside that is still afraid of the dark from when we cowered under the sheets and watched the closet door intently as we tried to fall asleep. In modern times, Halloween has been a decidedly child-oriented holiday, which is fascinating considering it also deals in matters of the horrific and supernatural.
Trick 'r Treat plays on the connection between children and the horrors of Halloween. This element is literally embodied in that creepy-as-hell little sack-headed scarecrow kid who is basically the center-point of the flick. Forget Jigsaw or The Creeper--this little bugger is without question the iconic horror movie icon of the past decade. It's dark material, but at the same time, never gets so heavy as to lose its sense of fun. That's a tough balancing act to pull off, but Dougherty does it with style.
Although I enjoy slashers, thrillers and various other violent and bloody sub-genres of horror, my favorite Halloween movie isn’t a genre classic like John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978) or even a contemporary indie flick like Michael Dougherty’s Trick ‘r Treat (2007). Instead, I like to get into the Halloween spirit by watching the 1993 Disney movie Hocus Pocus.
The plot is a simple one: Max Dennison (Omri Katiz) and his sister, Dani (Thora Birch), move to Salem just in time for Halloween. In an attempt to impress one of his classmates, Max accidentally resurrects three witches who were put to death 300 years earlier. In an unlikely partnership, Max, Dani and Allison (Vinessa Shaw) join forces with a 300-year-old talking black cat and a reanimated corpse in order to stop the witches from sucking the life out of Salem’s children before the sun rises.
Disney movies don’t always withstand the test of time, but Hocus Pocus remains a Halloween staple in my house for several reasons, not the least of which is Bette Midler’s performance as the eldest Sanderson sister, Winifred. In her role as Winnie Sanderson, Bette Midler not only delivers some of the film’s funniest lines (“He has a little man”), but also leads her co-stars—Sarah Jessica Parker and Kathy Najimy—in a catchy musical number that will be stuck in your head for weeks (although it’s good enough that you won’t mind).
The slapstick antics and clever dialogue of the Sanderson sisters are only part of why Hocus Pocus will remain an important part of my Halloween holiday traditions, and we have writers David Kirschner (story), Mick Garris (story/screenplay) and Neil Cuthbert (screenplay) to thank for that. Of course, Sarah Jessica Parker and Kathy Najimy’s performances are similarly comical and impressive as the middle sisters, and it doesn’t hurt that Sarah Jessica Parker wears so much makeup that she’s barely recognizable. Hocus Pocus is a unique blend of fantasy, comedy, and Disney musical that is great for children and adults alike, and I highly recommend watching it at least once this Halloween season.
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Join us next week for The Lucky 13, as we head into the month of November with a look at the popular sub-genre of "Man vs. Nature...
And now, the end is near, and so I face the final curtain... Hmmm? Oh, hello there, dear reader, and welcome to the final installment of the horrific adventure in which Brutal as Hell and the good ol' Vault have been engaged over the course of the summer. That's right, the Lucky 13 has reached its final destination, so to speak. We've reminisced and pontificated over a series of beloved horror genres, and what better way to end it all on this ominous 13th week than with slasher cinema, that guilty pleasure that has terrified and titillated us for a good third of a century now?
Personal bias: Slashers have never been a favorite of mine. In this, I often feel in the minority. That said, even I freely admit to being impressed and surprised at the level of diversity within this sub-genre. Perhaps it's time I give it a reappraisal. Take a look at this final collection of favorites, and judge for yourself...
B-Sol on A Nightmare on Elm Street
One of my biggest issues with slashers is the relative lack of imagination I often find in them--the slavish loyalty to formula. Perhaps this has a lot to do with my preference for supernatural horror. Knowing that, it would come as no surprise that the slasher film which has always had the most appeal to me would be Wes Craven's jewel, A Nightmare on Elm Street--undoubtedly the most successful and popular horror film of the 1980s.
Craven takes the slasher motif so far into supernatural territory, in fact, that some may even question whether or not NOES is a slasher film at all. But it is. We have the single-minded murderer stalking morally ambiguous teens with sharp objects. The ineffectual parental and authority figures. The tenacious and virtuous final girl. The killer with an origin out of classic urban legend. It's all here, only wit far more imagination, and thus far of an opportunity to frighten and disturb.
Freddy Krueger is a classic movie monster right up there with the likes of Dracula, Mr. Hyde and the Wolf Man. He is timeless, particularly in this first installment, after which the purity of the terror would be increasingly watered down. Stalking us in our dreams, he is the embodiment of the intangible fear from which we can never truly escape. Craven had been growing steadily more potent as a horror film-maker, and this, I believe represents him at the apex of his powers. It's a powerful little gem which he has yet to equal.
It’s a fact among film writers that our favorite films are the most difficult to write about. And when I sat down to write exactly what it is about Black Christmas that makes it so damn special, well, I just had no idea what I’d say. I could go on about the eye behind the door, the Glass Menagerie murder (which is a highlight of the film), the inclusion of the always welcome and totally awesome John Saxon, or the presence of a drunken Margot Shitter—excuse me, Kidder. But all this would be a horror nerd’s reasons for loving the film, and that’s not all there is to love with Black Christmas. Simply put, Black Christmas is effing scary.
It’s Christmas holidays for the ladies of the Pi Kappa Sig house. The girls have been receiving obscene phone calls from an anonymous male who wants to… well, do dirty things to whichever girl answers the phone. As each of the girls embarks on their plans for the break, the house thins out, and the few girls left are forced to fight for their lives from a psycho who’s holed up in their attic.
The fact that Black Christmas is a slasher will bring up certain images and ideas, but it does something that most films of the sub-genre can’t seem to do. It follows the formula very well, and it does so four years before John Carpenter would wow us with Halloween and even longer before Wes Craven would revive the dying sub-genre with Scream. Black Christmas is a benchmark film. It’s a standard by which we can compare all other slasher films, but for some reason, most people outside the horror community don’t know about it. Perhaps it’s that My Bloody Valentine became known as the Canadian slasher. Perhaps it’s that it was released the same year as Tobe Hooper’s Texas Chain Saw Massacre.
Whatever the reason for mainstream ignorance of this film, it should be recognized as the genesis point of an entire sub-genre. It’s a slow-burner, and that makes for one of the most frightening experiences you’ll have as a viewer.
Hey, if you disagree, you can always reach me at “Fellatio 2-0-8-8-0.”
If I had to pick any one sub-genre as my favorite, it's the '80s slasher. It's what I grew up on. It's what formed my love of the horror genre. It's the one sub-genre I can revisit over and over without ever tiring of it. With this week's post I not only get to tell you about my favorite slasher, I get to tell you about my favorite '80s horror film, period.
Night Warning (aka Butcher, Baker, Nightmare Maker) was one of those unfortunate films that fell by the wayside, because it's distributor had no idea how to market it. Campaigns suggested it was a teen slasher, and while it is indeed a slasher mixed with elements of mystery, there's much more to it than that. Susan Tyrell turns in the performance of a lifetime as the over-protective Aunt Cheryl. See, she's got the community in a bit of a tizzy after murdering the local TV repair man claiming he was trying to rape her. However, Lieutenant Carlson (Bo Svenson) doesn't buy her story and thinks that the orphaned teenage nephew (Jimmy McNichol) that she raised is the guilty party. As Carlson digs around, he doesn't realize he's about to set off a chain of murders, and he just may end up as the next victim.
Night Warning was one of those films that was ahead of its time as it mixed story threads involving racism, the nearly incestuous relationship between an aunt and her nephew, and the bigotry of a small town towards the homosexual population. With a lesser director, these story elements would have probably come across as ridiculous, but William Asher shows assurance and conviction with the material. All the more surprising, considering the bulk of his career was making beach blanket films and TV directing gigs during the '60s.
As for the performances- when you think of a lineup that includes McNichol (Kristy's brother), Svenson (Walking Tall), Julia Duffy (TV's Newhart), and Broadway actress Marcia Lewis, you really wouldn't expect much, but they're all terrific. It's as though everyone involved had to prove their worth as either director or actor, because they've never been better then they were here. Night Warning is one of those films that as I watch it over and over, I always pick up a new little detail or nuance. It's also one of the rare times when the movie is actually better then the book.
Code Red, a company facing tough times right now, has been promising a release of this film for the longest time. They have even put together special features for it, and conducted interviews with several of the people involved. Here's to hoping that the winner of the Best Horror Film of 1982 from The Academy of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Films gets it's proper due one of these days, and gets a chance at a wider audience with a proper DVD release.
The premise, simple. A crazed killer stalks a babysitter on Halloween night. Seems rather elementary, right? But Halloween is easily one of the most, if not the most influential movie in the history of slasher films. So what makes it so special?
Originally using the working title 'The Babysitter Murders', John Carpenter and Debra Hill co-wrote a screenplay that allowed the most basic elements of fear and anticipation to wreak havoc on the viewer's nerves. The point-of-view technique used to let us watch young six-year-old Michael murder his older sister in cold blood without a scratch of remorse catches our attention in the first five minutes, immediately dragging us into the psyche of a madman. The scenes of a desperate Dr. Loomis at the institution and the outrage and anxiety he projects at the Michael's escape only worsen with every moment he tracks him closer to Haddonfield.
Michael Myers is the most fundamental of slashers, wielding a kitchen butcher knife while sporting his Shatner mask and lumbering along like a zombie at best. And yet he is at his most menacing when we see him in subtle and sometimes quick shots: behind the laundry clothesline, outside Laurie's school, stepping out from behind the sidewalk hedge. Moments of unexpected lurking and outright stalking that take the viewer by surprise.
Halloween also is home to one of the genre's most beloved final girls, Laurie Strode. Selfless, virginal Laurie, always one to take in an extra ward on a babysitting job so her horny friends can get laid. A girl who has no idea (yet) why this escaped lunatic is dead-set on killing her, and yet fights back with all the gumption and determination of an alley cat in heat.
A moment to also thank the incredibly multi-talented director for his score contribution. In the same way John Williams is to Jaws, Carpenter is to Halloween. A distinctive, simple few notes that resonate throughout the film and create an atmosphere of terror and creeping doom. Without that recognizable score, the film would not succeed on the same level.
Taking more than just a few cues from the undisputed godfather of all slashers, Psycho, all in all Halloween is the perfect slasher film: Low on gore, high on suspense, setting the standard and watching (nearly) all replicas go down in embarrassing flames.
When most people think of camp-based slashers, their minds will turn to Camp Crystal Lake and the hockey masked momma’s boy who lives (and kills) there. Somehow, Friday the 13th has become known as the definitive camp splatter movie, which is hard to believe considering the series has only ever featured one fully-functional camp (Camp Forest Green in Jason Lives). Myself, I’d much rather be enrolled at The Burning’s Camp Stonewater any day of the week. Sure, dealing with Cropsey and the sight of George Costanza in short shorts would be terrifying, but it’d be a lot of fun otherwise. It’s got everything you would want from summer camp: pranks, campfire tales, and a group of fun people to hang around with. Just about the only thing missing from these hijinks is Bill Murray rallying the troops against a rival camp.
Of course, it also has everything you would expect from a slasher: gratuitous sex, drugs and death. Whenever Tom Savini’s effects are handling the latter part there, you’re usually in good hands, and The Burning is no exception. The Sultan of Splatter carves the cast up in a variety of ways as they fall victim to Cropsey and his garden shears. The now infamous raft massacre scene is one of the best in any slasher, and is one of the few that manages to be effective despite being set in broad daylight. Body parts get hacked off, throats are slit, and kids are stabbed in a splattery mess that cuts right to the heart of what slashers are all about.
The best slashers often make use of an urban or town legend, no doubt because everyone can relate to the primal nature of such tales. Whether you ever attended camp or not, you surely heard whispers of some sort of local legend that was designed to send shivers up the spines of kids everywhere. Cropsey himself is the ultimate campfire tale brought to life, as stories of a maniacal “Cropsey” have been told around northeast campfires for decades. This particular version is actually the brainchild of the Weinstein brothers and Brad Grey (quite an impressive pedigree), and he’s a gruesome character with a monstrously deformed and melted face.
He’s always been a sort of bridesmaid and never the blood-spattered bride, overshadowed by the likes of Mrs. Voorhees’s baby boy, but I’ll give Cropsey his due. The Burning is not only one of the best camp slashers, but one of the best body count movies the '80s had to offer, period. It’s basically a bowl full of Meatballs with a side of Friday the 13th, and the only thing missing is an endless line of sequels. That’s a shame because it would have been fun to see Cropsey make the shores of other camps run red with the blood of more victims. Of course, if we’re to believe the campfire tale, he’s still out there somewhere--just “don’t look--he’ll see you. Don’t move--he’ll hear you. Don’t breathe--you’re dead!”
The giallo is the Italian cousin to the all-American slasher film. Whereas the slasher has become synonymous with images of masked psychos lurking amongst a group of horny teenagers, the giallo is a bit more stylized in its (ahem) execution. One of the masters of this form was director Dario Argento. Having helmed the three films in the so-named “Animal Trilogy” (The Bird with the Crystal Plumage, Cat O’Nine Tails, and Four Flies on Grey Velvet), Argento’s next outing was something that broke the conventions of the standard giallo mystery and thus all of his previous efforts in the genre. With the arrival of Deep Red, Argento delved into a fantastic night world where death was the norm and any hope for good was all but diminished.
Deep Red, along with 1977’s Suspiria, is perhaps the prime example from Argento’s resume that fully displays his artist’s eye for colorful cinematography and composition. The hues and shades in this film are a visual feast for the eyes, their vibrancy and starkness almost too much for our vision to process at times. Nightmarish images crowd the proceedings, from the murderer’s strange den filled with child paraphernalia to the haunting and brooding house, occupied only by a corpse frozen in a silent scream, that lies at the center of the film’s mystery. And as the title most rightfully suggests, Deep Red bubbles to the brim with scarlet colors. It assaults our eyes as it springs forth in a cascade of glowing blood against the charcoal-black of the surrounding environment. It serves as a constant reminder that Death presides over all.
The eerie musical score by rock group Goblin is the perfect compliment to Argento’s mind-bending images. It pulses and pounds in the darkness, matching every thud of your heart against your chest. It’s music that gets you anxious and makes you anticipate the worst… and in the case of this film, that’s usually what you get. The killings sprinkled throughout are sudden, brutal, and leave lingering pictures in your mind for some time. I mean, what is more terrifying than the thought of going to answer your front door and suddenly being at the other end of a meat cleaver? Or groping through the shadows of your own home while a maniac intently watches you? And there is probably no scene more horrifying to those who despise dolls than the one in which a giggling dummy comes dancing across the room straight at the camera! That’s nightmare fuel on the rocks.
Deep Red is not only my favorite film in the slasher/giallo genre, it would most likely get a place in my hypothetical Top 10 of horror films. It evokes such a beautiful sense of strangeness and terror that you forget at times that you’re watching a movie about a psycho in leather gloves slinking around and chopping people up into finger food. Argento’s mastery of film-making elevates it to a level of true art, and it’s one of the more mentally engrossing gialli you will have the pleasure to witness. It’s one of the greatest things to meet a knife’s bloody edge.
The Horror Effect's B-Movie Becky on Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon
Somewhere between the post-modern fallout of Scream and the remake-centric splurge of horror films came one of the most original slashers constructed upon unoriginal concepts. After a brief theatrical stint, Behind the Mask: The Rise of Leslie Vernon flew onto the shelves of Best Buy, Fry’s, and Wal-Mart with barely a flutter in 2006. Half mockumentary, half serious, and all campy, what surprises could this movie bring to the jaded horror fan? Plenty.
I walked past this movie about a dozen times before finally deciding to Netflix it. The cover, sporting a creepy, sunken-eyed face, had always intrigued me. However, I’ve seen a few direct-to-DVD duds boasting a Robert Englund appearance and a psychopath in overalls. Still, I couldn’t resist the plot: a documentary crew follows the moves of a notorious serial killer in-the-making, as he selects his victims and prepares his locations for the ultimate slasher finale. Much to my surprise, the two things that make this quirky plot come together are the actors and the self-referential humor.
Under the direction of Scott Glosserman, the cast is almost too believable. Nathan Baesel as the documentary subject, Leslie Vernon, manages to be simultaneously charming and disturbing. Looking up to the Freddys and Jasons of the world, I found myself cheering Leslie on just as I would the other icons of horror. This happened without decade(s) of sequels and excessive merchandising. He became one of the boys in a completely different way. Supporting Leslie’s hilarious and strangely compelling performance are Angela Goethals as the reluctant filmmaker, Robert Englund as the Sam-Loomis-inspired Doc Halloran, and Scott Wilson as the veteran slasher. Glosserman’s actors effortlessly transition between low-key, docu-style acting and more cinematic representations of themselves at all the right moments.
One of the most challenging aspects of creating a post-modern horror film is capitalizing on the referential humor without stepping all over the genre. Behind the Mask brings homages, cameos, name drops, and plenty of genre sarcasm to the table, but always manages to stand on its feet as its own unique film. The spirit of the movie is captured in its tagline: “Jason, Freddy, Myers. We all need someone to look up to.” Reverence for the slasher is weaved into the very structure of the movie. It is a world where these icons exist in reality, not fiction. Vernon emulates their work, while having a sense of humor about it—the same way a slasher fan does. From the brief view of Kane Hodder on 1428 Elm Street to the scene of Vernon scoring tree branches to break when his victims inevitably attempt to escape from the second story, Behind the Mask lives, breathes, and bleeds slasher.
2006 may not be the year of the slasher. And it may not be the year the slasher was reinvigorated. But sometimes you have to sort through a lot of things in the ol’ junk drawer before you find what you’re looking for. It’s not a rehash of familiar slasher territory. It’s not a subversive look at the rules of the masked stalker. It’s not a modernized gored-out splatterpiece. Behind the Mask is simply an innovative slasher produced in a time when the trite outweighed the true.
Vault dweller Angela Howeth on The Texas Chainsaw Massacre
I love slasher films; they make up a vast majority of the movies that came out during my childhood. I remember the first time I laid eyes on The Texas Chainsaw Massacre; I was about ten years old. My cousins where babysitting my brother and I, and had brought the movie over. From that moment on, I will never forget Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen) opening that large metal sliding door and pulling his prey into the depths of hell. You know that anyone who walks through that old screen door is doomed to be chopped, sliced and diced by Leatherface. He is not your typical slasher, he does not lurk in the shadows, wielding a knife. Instead, he is like an inbred linebacker armed with a chainsaw, seeing his victims as a large chunk of meat. The fact that his character was based on true life slasher Ed Gein is enough to send an eerie chill down anyone’s’ spine. The scene in which he takes Pam (actress Teri McMinn) and places her on a meat hook, then proceeds to cut up and dismember her friend right in front of her is pure terror. Leatherface simply goes about his duty to get the meat ready for BBQ.
Leatherface is a monster; he hides behind his mask made of human skin and a slaughter house apron. He is a slasher that holds many weapons: carving knives, meat hooks, cleavers and his favorite, the chainsaw. Although many slashers in other movies are portrayed in an undead demonic sense, Leatherface is alive, a kind of twisted Frankenstein that was created by his family. All of the bloodshed and screams of terror make up his meal ticket; he is a relentless killing machine. To him there is no humanity, only the thrill of the kill. This is what makes him one of the most memorable slashers to this day; in fact, Texas Chainsaw Massacre is one of my favorite movies. To this day, I get creeped out about stopping at gas stations in the middle of nowhere out here, whether it’s Iowa or Nebraska. After all, you never know who is watching you! But that’s a whole different story!
Slaughter High, where do I begin? I've loved you since I was young enough to fall in love with movies; I can remember the first time I saw you vividly. I was fifteen, and my dad had got me my first-ever TV set to have in my room. My teenaged self was so excited, I could hardly wait. Through having that TV set I learned that all the best movies are on after midnight, and Slaughter High was no exception to this. As soon as I heard the heavy metal theme tune (that I swear can be heard at least 10 times throughout the movie's duration), aptly named 'April Fools Day', I fell head over heels into obsession with Marty and his murderous ways.
So let's cover the basics, shall we? Because I know you're probably thinking, if you haven't already seen it, wow this Slaughter High sounds interesting, I wish I could find out more about it! Our murderer in this movie is Marty Rantzen, your Grade-A typical nerd. He's sweet and lovable, but weak, so he's the victim of severe bullying from his peers. In the first scene, this real bitchy girl called Carol pretends to be into Marty--she's all like "Oh Marty, will you have sex with me?" Marty, being a little desperate, agrees, even though I'm pretty sure he knows in real life Carol will never sleep with him. Anyway, they trick him, do all sorts of mean, cowardly things that only bullies do and they all get punished, but it doesn't stop there--it gets worse. These sick kids give Marty a joint to smoke, but it's poisonous, and they also rig up a chemistry set to explode in his face, and as his face is burning, Marty walks into a brilliantly placed shelf that has a jar of acid perched on it. I mean literally this shelf could only exist in the movies.
Then in true slasher movie fashion, Marty comes back. He's got 3rd degree burns and he's pissed--really, really pissed. So pissed, in fact, that Marty invites everyone back to the now-desolate and abandoned school where they tortured him so he can have a little bit of fun himself. I won't spoil the movie for you, but it's a slasher, so people die in some really incredibly funny ways. OK, I said I wouldn't ruin it for you, but I have to talk about this one guys death. He drinks a can of beer which has clearly been tampered with, and his stomach literally explodes. I'm talking a shed-load of intestines and obviously fake blood, complete with girly high-pitched screams and panic.
Slasher movies don't get any better than Slaughter High. The theme song is brilliant, the acting is mediocre and the deaths are ambitious and hilarious. To put it simply, I'm still in love with this movie and I think I probably will be for eternity. Marty lives on inside of me, his half-burnt face etched into my memory forever.
Cinema Suicide's Bryan White on Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter
It didn't take long for Friday the 13th to descend into sequel hell, did it? Part 2, though not what the producers imagined it would be, turned out to be a strong sequel; a movie that I happen to think is better than the first. Part 3 loses its footing, however, poorly utilizing 3-D, and if it weren't for the first appearance of the hockey mask, it would be a forgettable sequel, entirely. But you can't argue with numbers, and the box office dictated that the fans wanted more. This is pretty much how Friday the 13th dominated the first half of the '80s. There's a simple formula in Hollywood that determines if a movie gets sequelized: How much did it cost vs. how much did it gross. If the box office gross exceeds its budget while in general release, it's a strong indicator that there will be more of the same. Friday the 13th flicks cost nothing to produce and pulled in tremendous box office. It was this series that crafted the endless sequel horror paradigm.
The Friday movies were rushed into production time and time again, year after year, each featuring a similar plot to the prior, and producer Frank Mancuso, Jr. was ready to move on to other projects. To put the Friday movies to rest, he crafted a script with an ending that he felt Jason Voorhees couldn't return from, and planted it right at the end of your average slasher flick. It's the usual story: Randy teens party in the woods near Camp Crystal Lake, completely unaware that they're doomed, much to our delight. But where the previous Fridays were happy to leave it at that, The Final Chapter adds a remarkable dynamic to the bodycount. By Friday standards, the script for The Final Chapter is one of the most sophisticated in the Friday canon. Jason becomes less a shadowy figure in the woods who steps out at the right moment and becomes a hulking terrorist that makes a lot of noise and advertises the fact they you're all going to die; and if the previous victims are any measure, your death is assuredly going to be gory.
This is a flick that starts so slow, though, and that's the downside; but while Jason is making his way back to the lake, we're entertained by Crispin Glover's dancing, a true sight to behold. There's also the matter of endless slow-mo out-the-window stunt shots. Whether you're being thrown through the window by Jason or the dog is abandoning his master and beating a hasty retreat through a closed window, the slow-mo window gag never loses its appeal. It's hilarious every single time. Honestly, Peckinpah and John Woo combined never used this much slow-mo. Also, I always felt that Part 2's final girl, Ginny, was the gold standard for the survivor girl. The Final Chapter's Trish, however, takes on Jason in the final showdown with the unprecendented use of her bare hands! Friday 4 seems to be the most colorful of the early series and for that, it wins out in my contest of preference. I love this movie more than any in the series and more than any other slasher flick. The only thing I want to know is where did Jason get a speargun and who the hell needs a spear gun on the edge of Crystal Lake?
When the topic of slasher films came up, I had a small argument with myself. This wasn't the normal argument that occurs when someone asks me to pick a favorite in some genre/subgenre; this was an argument that went something like “If Halloween's already been picked, there's not really anything I feel is worthy of a list like this”. The slasher genre and I have had many disagreements over the years, despite my stubborn refusal to leave them for dead (I wish I knew how to quit them, maybe?), and it's gotten to the point where I often argue that Halloween doesn't even belong under the “slasher film” label. (This argument often is vocalized by me pointing out that film's lack of blood and supernatural/philosophical message, though inside I'm usually just thinking that Halloween is far too good to be downgraded into the slasher genre.)
As a point of protest against a majority of the entertaining but mind-numbing films that make up the slasher canon, I decided that I'd talk about another film that exists on the fringe of that universe; the 1986 anomaly April Fool's Day. I've never quite been sure what to make of the film, which could be read as a loving spoof of or as a giant middle finger toward the slasher craze, which had been eating up cinema screens for half a decade in the wake of the first Friday the 13th film. What I do know is that it's a complete blast, regardless of its intentions.
In retrospect, it's relatively safe to say that the plot of April Fool's Day--which I won't divulge on behalf of the unfortunates who've not experienced it yet--is among the most ridiculous things ever filmed. And, unlike most slasher films of that era, the film is relatively tame, playing like an R-rated Scooby Doo at times.
But there's an incredible amount of charm in the film thanks to the cast (the lovely Deborah Foreman, the strong Amy Steel, and the dependable Clayton Rohner all shine) and the execution of the film's plot, which never takes itself seriously. The result, in my eyes, is the perfect slasher experience for someone who loves the silliness of the slasher and wants a film that embraces the movement's flaws. In a sub-genre that has become a parody of itself, April Fool's Day is a breath of fresh air. (Even if it is air from a Whoopee cushion.)
While I pride myself on being a horror fangirl chock full of movie preferences far beyond my years, I have no problem admitting that I was born in 1990. In my short 20 years on this planet, I've discovered the wonderful films of yesteryear, and fully understand the lack of staying power the majority of horror films that have come out in the past 20 years possess. The slasher genre is by far one of the most prevalent in horror films, and the '90s were all about trying to spark the fire of slasher films that had previously taken over the horror genre. My personal favorite, was I Know What You Did Last Summer.
IKWYDLS is in no way/shape/form a quality horror film. However, the film followed the outline for a slasher film to a T, and had a power packed cast that drew me in instantly. The typical "teens in trouble make their lives even more complicated" scenario follows a group of friends that hit someone with a car and presumably, kill him. Instead of notifying the authorities, they throw the body into the water and vow to never speak of it again. A year later, the friends find themselves stalked and attacked by an unknown assailant with a fish hook.
The film is ridiculously silly and borderline laughable, but for some reason, I can't look away. Maybe it's the grace of Jennifer Love Hewitt in a babydoll T or Ryan Phillipe's character having the last name of "Cox", but I can't stop watching it. The kills aren't that gory nor original, but like every slasher film...there's plenty of them. Much like most slasher films, there are scenes running through closed quarters, steamy showers with words written in the fogged mirrors, and the main characters turning on each other. I Know What You Did Last Summer was easily the first slasher film I saw on my own, without the guidance of my horror obsessed parents. And for that reason, I'll always cherish it.
I didn’t even finish Pieces the first time I saw it. I remember turning it off about 15 minutes in, just thinking it was one of the most ridiculous things I had ever seen. It was, and it still is, but now in hindsight I wonder if I would’ve liked it more if I would’ve just waited through? Maybe it did take seeing it in a theater full of people to fully appreciate it. Let me explain.
I had the great opportunity to see Pieces in its 35mm glory this past May at the Hudson Horror Fest in Poughkeepsie. From the first few minutes I could tell that this was going to be a different experience than the one I had watching it alone. There were muffled giggles from the first swing of the ax, maybe even before.
For those unfamiliar, Pieces is a unique slasher in the sense that the slashing comes by way of a chainsaw. There are a series of murders on a college campus that show that only certain pieces (ha! Get it?!) of the female co-ed’s bodies are missing from the crime scenes. From the beginning we can see this is a slasher based on a psychological premise. The film starts with a young boy being caught with a pornographic puzzle, and once his mother lashes out at him, he hacks her in the skull with an axe. Then the film swiftly cuts to 40 years later as we see an almost giallo-like touch, as gloved hands paw a bloodied shoe and the puzzle, which is also bloodied. From here on out, there is so much unintended hilarity it’s almost too much to handle, and this is why Pieces can hold my heart the way it does.
From the awkwardness of the suspect professor, to the macho man suspect gardener Willard, to the “ladies man” Kendall driving a girl to beg him to gag her so she’ll be quieter while he ravages her, there are so many gems. That doesn’t even start to scratch the surface of the premise, in which a famous tennis player is also a cop who goes “undercover” at the university. The scene in which she meets Kendall’s kung fu professor is worth the price of admission alone. To be fair, the gore in this film is great. And the ending will leave you in stitches…literally. I have grown addicted to this film. I seriously find myself watching it at least once a week since I bought it a few months back. I try to show it to any new friends I am meeting to gauge their sense of humor and see how compatible we are as compadres. So far they have all passed with flying colors.
Pieces is most definitely an acquired taste, and perhaps you’ll be like me and find it unwatchable at first. If you let it play on, you too could find the subtle…I mean, blatant charm of J.P. Simon’s Pieces.
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A deeply heart-felt thank you goes out to all those writers who contributed pieces to the Lucky 13 over the course of the past 13 weeks. It's been one hell of a ride, both here and over at Brutal as Hell, where another group of exceptional scribes has been hard at work chronicling their favorite horror flicks, as well. This whole thing sprang from a very simple notion hashed out on Twitter, and I'm certainly glad it did. I hope you've all enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed putting it together.
And so, adieu to the Lucky 13. Although, perhaps not. For, just as the slashers discussed this week, I have a distinct feeling it may come lurking back one day in the not-too-distant future, stronger than ever and out for more blood...