24 Hours of Halloween Horror

Posted on October 27, 2020 at 1:53 pm by Jeff Kuykendall

It’s a semi-regular tradition on this site to suggest a program of 24 hours of horror for the indefatigable film buff, which might double as recommendations for those who have no intention whatsoever of adhering to such an pitiless marathon. As usual, the time of day is taken into account with each film (although the logic there may only make sense in my own head), as well as ensuring that the transition from one film to another isn’t too jarring – with a few exceptions, I’m sure.

6am: Nightmare Castle (1965) D: Mario Caiano

From the golden age of Italian Gothic horror comes this Barbara Steele vehicle, cashing in heavily on memories of Mario Bava’s watershed Black Sunday (1960). Steele plays a dual role (again) in a tale which is a convoluted hodgepodge of various Poe motifs and other Italian Gothics, with a mad scientist (the ubiquitous Paul Muller) and his sadistic machinations at the story’s center. The film starts strong, with the (literally) shocking murder of his wife and her lover, and ends with a House of Usher crescendo of Gothic mayhem, including Steele’s vengeful, half-disfigured specter. Available on Blu-ray from Severin Films.

7:30am: Baron Blood (1972) D: Mario Bava

This late career Gothic from Bava features the great – albeit miscast – Joseph Cotten as the mass murderer Baron Otto Von Kleist, brought back to life when a spell is delivered in the Baron’s castle by his great grandson (Antonio Cantafora) and the indulgent castle historian Eva (Elke Sommer). The undead Von Kleist adopts a new identity, purchases the castle, and resumes his vengeful killing, and Bava indulges in some less potent but nonetheless enjoyable set pieces that evoke his colorful 60’s horrors. Available on Blu-ray from Kino.

9am: The Black Room (1935) D: Roy William Neill

An early example of Boris Karloff demonstrating that his acting gifts could extend well beyond mad scientists and their monsters, The Black Room, set in the 19th century, features the actor in a dual performance as the gentle, crippled Anton de Berghmann and his sinister twin brother, Baron Gregor de Berghmann, whom it’s prophesied he’ll one day kill. Gregor is a narcissist and sadist who murders his enemies in the secret “Black Room.” This engrossing historical melodrama reaches a finale of poetic justice in the Gothic horror mold. Karloff wouldn’t again have such a brilliant showcase until his collaborations with Val Lewton a decade later. Available to stream from Amazon and on DVD from Mill Creek.

10:15am: In Search of Dracula (1974) D: Calvin Floyd

This theatrically released documentary about the roots of vampire folklore and Bram Stoker’s creation was a staple of October TV programming once upon a time, and is newly available on Blu-ray from Kino. It’s most noteworthy for not only being hosted by Christopher Lee, but also featuring Lee in reenactments as Vlad the Impaler, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the famous bug-eyed portrait when so costumed. The castle of Vlad III is visited, while clips of Lee from Scars of Dracula (1970) feature prominently, and he plays the Count once again in a few crudely staged scenes. Time is also spent on Bela Lugosi’s career leading to his most famous role, and the importance of Nosferatu (1922). In the spirit of Mondo documentaries, we hear dubious proclamations stated as fact and enjoy lurid digressions like a nude horseback ride and an unintentionally hilarious visit with a slack-faced contemporary blood drinker (who allegedly taught himself the practice without ever having heard of vampires!).

11:45am: Dracula Has Risen from the Grave (1968) D: Freddie Francis

It would only be natural to watch one of Lee’s Dracula films next, so I’ve chosen this psychedelically colored outing from director Freddie Francis, inserting the Count in a mountain village straight out of Grimm’s fairy tales. Picking up where Dracula: Prince of Darkness (1966) left off, the vampire is restored and begins seducing and destroying the local villagers, preying on their weakness of faith. Of the rest of the cast, Veronica Carlson and Barbara Ewing make the strongest impressions as Dracula’s marks, one pure-hearted and virginal, the other sinful-minded and sympathetically lonely. Available on Blu-ray from Warner and streaming on Amazon.

1:30pm: Patrick (1978) D: Richard Franklin

Let’s break free of vampires for the outrageous Ozploitation tale of doe-eyed nurse Kathy (Susan Penhaligon, The Land That Time Forgot) assigned to care for a comatose killer named Patrick who just might have developed powerful telekinetic powers in his immobile state – as well as a crush on his caregiver. Although there are some authentic, impressively unflinching glimpses of the mundane indignities the young nurses in the hospital must suffer, any hints of social commentary are lost beneath shameless moments like Kathy, stepping out the door to fetch the doctor, insisting earnestly to Patrick that he not go anywhere; or a psychic attack scene in a swimming pool which mimics shots and music from Jaws while a topless woman makes out obliviously with her lover in the background. The film is available on Blu-ray from Severin, who have also just released its illegitimate cousin, the Italian knock-off/remake Patrick Still Lives (1980). That film – in which a different comatose Patrick is manipulated by a mad scientist – contains plenty of ridiculous, sleazy, J&B whisky-soaked fun, but also a scene of a such graphic, misogynist sexual violence that it can only be recommended to those seeking the most extreme limits of Italian exploitation cinema – and which is why it’s absent from this list.

3:15pm: Tales of Terror (1962) D: Roger Corman

Halloween is never complete without Vincent Price, especially in his Corman/Poe incarnation. A favorite is the anthology Tales of Terror, which unites Price with Peter Lorre and Basil Rathbone for adaptations of “Morella,” “The Black Cat,” “The Cask of Amontillado,” and “The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar.” The second and third Poe tales are cleverly grafted together by screenwriter Richard Matheson into one, with Lorre indelibly portraying (“for the love of God”) Montresor. Over-the-top entertainment that knows exactly what it is and should be – and vastly superior to the comparatively lethargic Twice Told Tales, Sidney Salkow’s attempt the following year to copy the formula with Price starring and source material by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Available on Blu-ray from Kino and streaming on Amazon.

4:45pm: Torture Garden (1967) D: Freddie Francis

Our second Freddie Francis film in the marathon is one of the stronger anthologies from Amicus, written by Robert Bloch (Psycho) from his own short stories. Burgess Meredith plays Dr. Diabolo, a carny with a devilish goatee and mustache, whose carnival exhibit invokes morality plays about an evil cat, Hollywood androids, a haunted piano, and obsessive collectors of Edgar Allan Poe. This final tale, starring Peter Cushing and Jack Palance, is worth Diabolo’s price of admission alone. Available on Blu-ray from Mill Creek, Indicator (UK), and streaming on Amazon.

6:30pm: Dolls (1987) D: Stuart Gordon

Stuart Gordon passed away this year, leaving behind an abundance of witty – and frequently grisly – genre films including his Lovecraft adaptations Re-Animator (1985), From Beyond (1986), and Dagon (2001). Dolls, made at the expedited request of Charles Band and his Empire Pictures, qualifies as one of Gordon’s lighter films, almost a lark – light on gore, and with a brief running time. But it distinguishes itself from all those other Charles Band-produced killer doll movies by mustering a fairy tale atmosphere from the low budget and gifting us with at least one stop motion horror scene (by David Allen) that resembles the work of the Brothers Quay. It’s also very funny. Formerly available on Blu-ray from Shout Factory (now out of print), it can be found streaming on Amazon.

8pm: The Changeling (1980) D: Peter Medak

One of the best haunted house tales of the 80’s (though it feels like a late addition to the cycle of 70’s occult horror films featuring A-list actors), this chiller from Peter Medak stars George C. Scott as a famed composer who recently lost his wife and daughter in a terrible accident. Taking up residence in an historic house in Seattle owned by a powerful senator, he’s surprised to find that it’s haunted by a very active ghost – one trying to communicate a secret that’s been hidden through the decades. Forcefully spooky throughout, its mystery only becomes more engrossing as it goes on – and Scott doesn’t phone it in, bringing all his trademark gravitas to each revelation. Available on Blu-ray from Severin.

10pm: The Living Dead at Manchester Morgue (aka Let Sleeping Corpses Lie, 1974) D: Jorge Grau

One of Edgar Wright’s favorite horror films, this UK-shot, Spanish-produced picture from director Jorge Grau (Blood Ceremony) succeeds in part because it takes its time establishing interest in its characters and building a certain quiet, claustrophobic dread before getting round to zombie terror (a plague spread by a farmer’s experimental form of pest control). As you’d expect, Grau borrows heavily from Night of the Living Dead, but in all the good ways – including importing Romero’s knack for social commentary and drawing believable, self-defeating conflicts between his characters, deepening the feeling of tragedy and the sense that this couldn’t go down any other way. Available in a gorgeous new Blu-ray (as part of a limited edition 3-disc steelbook, including a soundtrack CD) from Synapse Films.

11:45pm: At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul (1964) D: José Mojica Marins

Often cited as Brazil’s first horror film, At Midnight I’ll Take Your Soul introduced the world to Zé do Caixão, “Coffin Joe” (director Marins), the snaggle-fingernailed, top hat-wearing atheist undertaker who tortures and kills those who in get in the way of his quest for the perfect woman. Poisonous spiders, vengeful ghosts, and squirming maggots are the order of business in Coffin Joe’s first outing, to be followed by appearances in comic books and sequels (including the superior This Night I’ll Possess Your Corpse) as the villain became a South American horror icon. The multi-faceted Marins passed away in February of this year, so this midnight entry in our marathon serves as a tribute to his dark carnival of a career. Available on DVD from Synapse Films.

1:15am: Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II (1987) D: Bruce Pittman

The best of Canada’s Prom Night franchise is this wild supernatural slasher which is more influenced by the surreal gore and black comedy of the contemporaneous Nightmare on Elm Street films than anything in the Jamie Lee Curtis-starring, standard-template-slasher film of 1980. Sexy 1957 prom queen Mary Lou Maloney (Lisa Schrage) returns from the dead to torment modern-day teens as prom night approaches. Inventive special effects and creative deaths elevate this slasher, along with appealing characters and some genuine wit amongst the bloody messes. The film received one direct follow-up in Prom Night III: The Last Kiss (1990), but loses the balance, playing as a sloppy parody of horror films with lazier jokes. Available on Amazon Prime Video.

3am: Return of the Living Dead 3 (1993) D: Brian Yuzna

Speaking of unrelated sequels, the third Return of the Living Dead largely abandons the horror-comedy formula set by Dan O’Bannon in the first film and exploited (less successfully) by Ken Wiederhorn in Part II. Brian Yuzna, director of the notorious satire Society (1989) as well as Bride of Re-Animator (1990), delivers a tale that could be described as Rebel Without a Cause meets Romeo and Juliet – except this Juliet (named Julie and played by Melinda Clarke) happens to be degenerating deeper and deeper into a state of mindless brain-eating while her hapless boyfriend sticks by her side. What makes this film work, apart from the excellent effects makeup by Steve Johnson (Night of the Demons, Big Trouble in Little China), is the fact that it more or less adheres to the tragic arc of Shakespeare’s time-tested story – just with more flesh-eating. Available on Blu-ray as part of Lionsgate’s Vestron Video line, as well as Amazon streaming.

4:40am: Martin (1977) D: George A. Romero

We circle back to modern-day blood drinkers (following up on In Search of Dracula) with Martin, George Romero’s fascinating character portrait of a young man named Martin (John Amplas) who may or may not be an ageless vampire. He’s taken under the wing of a relative, a toxically repressive elderly Catholic convinced that Martin is a vampire and needs to be controlled with crucifixes and garlic. Meanwhile, Martin – who in fact drugs, kills, and drinks the blood of his victims – develops a hesitant romance which may offer hope of initiating a kind of self-reinvention. Romero’s low budget but remarkably sensitive film has been difficult to see in recent years (the DVD has gone out of print), but a long-in-the-works restoration is expected to be released on Blu-ray in the near future by Second Sight in the UK, who are also on the cusp of releasing Romero’s Dawn of the Dead in a lavish box set.

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It Came from Outer Space (1953)

Posted on October 24, 2020 at 10:04 am by Jeff Kuykendall

“I’m sorry. We did not want to use violence. Now there is no other way.”

It Came from Outer Space (1953) was the first 3D film from Universal-International Pictures, released just eight months after the film that kicked off a surge of renewed interest in the format, Bwana Devil (1952). Former documentarian Jack Arnold directed, and in short order became Universal’s go-to director of 3D thrillers with The Glass Web (1953), Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954), and Revenge of the Creature (1955), before the format went dormant once again and Arnold transitioned to 2D for films that included the 50’s SF gems Tarantula (1955) and The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957). I first became aware of It Came from Outer Space through a VHS tape I received as a Christmas present sometime in the 80’s. It was the first home video I owned; just having something with box art made it something special, and I watched it many times, along with The Thing (from Another World) and King Kong – the other two videos soon added to my collection. As a kid, at first I wasn’t aware that the film was originally made in 3D, though it would have explained a lot, like the way the titles launched toward the viewer at the start of the film, along with the alien’s fiery meteor of a spaceship. To watch 3D at home in the 80’s meant waiting for a special broadcast of a movie (say, 1961’s The Mask with a bonus Three Stooges 3D short) in red and blue anaglyph, begging your parents to pick up the station’s promotional 3D glasses at the local 7-11 and then, finally, squinting through the glasses at the TV and feeling betrayed that very little of it looked three-dimensional at all.

Discovery of the alien spacecraft.

Thanks to the 2016 3D Blu-ray release of the 3-D Film Archive‘s restoration of It Came from Outer Space (which corrects vertical alignment issues baked into the film), it’s now possible to see the movie the way it was intended. And I realize – having watched it this way for the first time last night, and comparing it to Creature from the Black Lagoon which I viewed last week in polarized 3D – that Arnold directed my favorite kind of 3D film. The coming-at-ya effects are used very sparingly, but effectively. In Creature, there are a few moments with the creature’s claw, whether real or fossilized, floating closest to the viewer, along with the odd speargun fired at the camera. But what I love the most about the 3D Creature is the lagoon itself, with its ripples of water receding further and further back and creating a breathtaking feeling of depth. (I prefer this to 3D films that render actors and objects as two-dimensional figures standing at different depths on a puppet stage.) It Came from Outer Space in retrospect feels like a dry run for Arnold’s more sophisticated use of 3D in Creature, but it’s nonetheless impressively designed, taking advantage of its vast desert location with its cacti, tumbleweeds, and Joshua trees. And there are moments, so valuable in 3D features, where the effect is applied as another color in the filmmaker’s palette, creating a sensation that suits the story – most notably in a scene where the main character, exploring an abandoned mine, suddenly realizes that he’s about to take a neck-breaking fall through a crevasse; he looks down and the plunge is delivered with a vertigo that only the 3D format can achieve. That sense of danger was never present when I watched it flat.

Richard Carlson as John Putnam.

Future Creature star Richard Carlson is the appealing protagonist, amateur astronomer John Putnam, who, as the story begins, is boasting to his girlfriend Ellen Fields (Barbara Rush, When Worlds Collide) that he’s just sold an article to a publication, and can therefore buy an addition to his house. Perhaps this is the film’s science fiction element? But no, moments later he’s looking through a telescope (swinging it over the audience’s laps) and spying what appears to be a meteor crashing into the Arizona wilderness. Driving out to investigate, he decides to get a closer look by dangerously descending into the crash crater. There he stumbles upon a dome-shaped object with a honeycomb-like pattern and an open door, beyond which is…something moving in the darkness. Then the portal closes, and the discovery is buried beneath an avalanche of rocks. Already we’ve been witness to some of Arnold’s most effective uses of the format. When we see the spaceship door first open before John arrives, the camera creeps slowly toward the shadows until our eyes fix on the objects inside – there’s a sense of genuine awe using very little but darkness, pinpoints of light, and 3D depth. Then Arnold, as he will do throughout the film, takes on the perspective of the alien rather than allowing us to view it directly, and mimics its cyclopean stare in a shimmery, rippling circle. (When we do finally see it, it’s a faintly ludicrous creation spitting fog from its one-eyed gelatinous head.)

An alien visitor impersonating Ellen (Barbara Rush).

Following a treatment by Ray Bradbury, the film now focuses on John’s increasing isolation. He has a whopper of an alien invasion story with no evidence and a skeptical public – including a very frustrated small town sheriff (Charles Drake, Winchester ’73). Yet strange happenings continue, including visitations on the empty desert highway from a phantom-like creature. Ellen becomes his only ally, and the two try to convince the sheriff that certain locals (including Gilligan’s Island‘s Professor, Russell Johnson) are being replaced by extraterrestrial impostors, the originals held hostage while the town is raided for materials to repair the spacecraft. So it beats Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) to the punch by a few years, but the best aspect of Bradbury’s story is the way the conflict between alien and Arizonian plays out, like a Cold War conflict between different cultures that are doomed to never understand one another. The creatures insist they’re benevolent and only wish to return home – yet they’ve kidnapped and aren’t above making threats, knowing how the humans would receive them in their true unearthly shape. Like the tales that would feature on The Twilight Zone, the conflict between these points of view becomes the crux of the story, culminating in John’s decision to trust the strong-arming tactics of the aliens, and the sheriff – finally believing John, but not cooperating – gathering a local militia to confront the invaders with force. Bradbury’s twist on the familiar alien invasion yarn is smartly observational, and gives the story a sense of timelessness. Together with the eerie stillness of the Arizona desert – this would pair splendidly with Them! (1954) – the strong and serious performances, and Arnold’s use of 3D to create a feeling of immersion, It Came from Outer Space is a fireball of 50’s SF.

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Midnight Video: the Private Video Store I Built in Quarantined Cabin Fever

Posted on October 17, 2020 at 9:17 am by Jeff Kuykendall

I’m lucky to have a job that allows me to work from home, as well as an employer willing to pivot and have employees work remotely earlier this year as COVID-19 cases began to rise. With a three-year-old running amok in the house, I was compelled to move my workstation into the basement – neglected since we moved here a few years ago. I’m now working out of the basement guest bedroom, which was only inhabited by spiders for a very long time (just one of the reasons why we have a Giant Spider Invasion poster hanging down here). The main part of the basement, separate from the bedroom, has a nice layout – it’s a walk-out with big windows, with a brick fireplace dating from when the home was built in the 70’s – but the ceiling was a sorry affair, the tiles and frame sagging claustrophobically in the center and at least preventing any basketball players from visiting us.

I began to think about how, since moving into this house, I’ve never had a really good place for my movie collection, which continues to expand. While my stuck-at-home restlessness led to other home projects, I began to research and sketch out ideas for displaying them in the style of a video store.

As a child of the 80’s, I grew up around video stores. I have early memories of my family renting VCRs and laserdisc players so we could watch 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, The Empire Strikes Back, and The Elephant Man. The video store also offered glimpses of forbidden fruit, with come-hither VHS covers displaying sex and violence that was off-limits viewing in my household (not to mention those mysterious side rooms with beaded curtains or swinging saloon doors). When I was in college, I took a summer job at a Planet Video in Milwaukee where we could bring home free movies and stale popcorn nightly. At one point, I squeezed a giant cardboard standee of John Carpenter’s In the Mouth of Madness into my car, and it received temporary residence in my parents’ living room. And I have fond memories of wandering off campus with friends for long walks to various video stores on a Friday or Saturday night. There were so many back then, you had plentiful options within walking distance.

So I love video stores, but I understand fully why they’re not long for this world. I may be a physical media devotee, but I’m part of the problem: I never think for a moment of venturing out to find one of the few remaining stores – and haven’t for a couple years, not since I lived across from a Family Video. I have the same excuse that you probably do – the convenience of at-home options. Yet I feel nostalgia for browsing the shelves, discovering some film I’d never heard of before, or getting a recommendation from a knowledgeable clerk.

Back to my project. The main problem was acquiring the proper kind of shelves. I wanted gondola shelving to create two-sided aisles, however short they’d have to be in this space. Most retail gondola shelves are utilitarian, functional – not intended for videos specifically. Video store shelves had a narrow look, made for displaying tapes or disc cases, whether the shelves were wooden or wire. There are a few websites where you can buy such things, but whether new or used, the shipping is costly – often as much as the item itself. More reasonable options are to look for (a) a video store closing or recently closed, or (b) a physically nearby outlet that sells used retail fixtures you can haul away. For option A, I checked out my nearest, recently closed Family Video, but the space had already transitioned into a dollar store.

While weighing option B, I realized I needed to get the basement ready before crowding it with shelves. That meant replacing the ceiling itself. I decided to go with drywall, and hired a contractor due to the work effort and complexity. (I won’t bore you with the details, but what was above the suspended ceiling offered a lot of little problems that would involve some carpentry, electrical, and complicated drywalling. And I write a blog about exploitation movies.) The fact that so many of our plans for 2020 had been cancelled, and that we’d pulled our virus-sponge son out of daycare, left us some wiggle room in our budget, so my wife and I agreed to get it done right. And in the summer months while making arrangements with the contractor, I began to scour eBay for video store memorabilia to add to the authenticity of the experience, as well as some basics like a restroom sign and a faux-neon “Open” sign for the basement entrance.

While construction was underway in mid-September, a friend shared on Facebook that the Family Video across from my old house was closing permanently in October. The news, however well timed, was bittersweet. This was a store that I used to frequent myself. Arrangements were made to take 6 shelves off their hands, which later became 7.

Left: Family Video. Right: Shelves waiting in the garage.

Though I have a decent collection of movie posters to display, I scoured eBay for video store memorabilia over the summer, and acquired a few choice items to lend the appropriate vintage atmosphere. (Though I did end up with a Raiders of the Lost Ark mini-display that didn’t break the budget, when it comes to video store collectibles, the more popular franchises – and horror in general – tend to be more expensive. Anything related to Back to the Future or Star Wars might stretch your wallet.)

As the contractors wrapped up work, I finally moved the shelves into the basement and began the unpacking and decoration process. Ostensibly, the fun bit. But there were issues I’d never considered before. How does my collection fit into standard video store categorization? Do I have enough action movies to constitute an “Action” section? Do I combine dramas and thrillers? What about comedy-dramas? What about science fiction horror? (I decided to give my overstuffed horror section a little breathing room and move titles like Alien, Prey, and Xtro into SF.) I’m still working some of those issues out, but the gallery that follows is the mostly finished product, my private video store that doubles as a museum exhibit for a lost civilization.

Below the Open sign, the first view of Midnight Video.

“Innocent Blood” (1992) vintage standee (hiding my dogs’ kennels).

Example of shelf sub-category labels.

The “TV Series” section, heavy on the MST3K.

Vintage video store poster for “Starchaser: The Legend of Orin” (1985) the PG-rated 3-D animated film.

My son chose his own aisle and put the videos on the shelves himself (those he could reach). I won’t hold him to alphabetical order…

Next up is installing curtains in the windows to prevent the covers from sun fading.

Original “12 Monkeys” (1995) three-sided video store standee.

The horror alcove, with a media cabinet to hold box sets of different genres. Hammer films on the little shelf (along with Amicus and the Blind Dead box set).

This is the “screening room” section at the back of the video store (er, a TV and my wife’s old college futon, decorated with some new pillows since the dogs ate the old ones).

1990’s era HBO Savoy Video promotional clock.

“Raiders of the Lost Ark” mini-standee. Note the “coming soon” at the bottom right advertising the impending theatrical release of “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.”

“A Fish Called Wanda” video store “aquarium” display.

“Invaders from Mars” (1986) mobile with letters that appear to glow when hanging under a light like this.

The door to my work-from-home office/guest bedroom.

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