Car Talk

Body horror isn’t my favorite sub-genre, but Titane (French for titanium) had been recommended in several places.  Body horror directed by women takes on a particular cast, especially since pregnancy is, I imagine, kind of scary.  Certainly from a male perspective it can be, so I suspect such major body changes must involve some psychological adjustments for women as well.  The story is strange.  Alexia, after a childhood car accident, has a titanium plate in her skull.  After being released from the hospital, she starts to really love cars.  I mean, really love.  She works as a car model and ends up making love to her showroom car one night.  After that she becomes pregnant.  Emotionally distant from most people, including her parents, she becomes a serial killer.  She’s not a complete sociopath, however, because she realizes this is wrong.

Wanted by the authorities after killing everyone at a house party, she tries to change her identity by cutting her hair, breaking her nose, and wrapping her torso in body tape to pass herself off as a man.  A firefighter chief whose son has been missing for a decade, believes Alexia is his son and he takes her in.  She won’t speak, which he supposes is part of the trauma.  He gives Alexia work among the other firefighters, who are generally sexist and not a little suspicious.  Especially since the chief gives Alexia preferential treatment even though she doesn’t know what she’s doing.  In one scene he tells the firefighters he is God to them and Alexia is his son.  One of the firefighters quips later, that Jesus is white and gay.  (Alexia is pretty and the broken nose only makes her appear androgynous.)

Her painful pregnancy, which involves motor oil, eventually forces her father to acknowledge that she’s not his son, but the lonely man still vows to care for her.  When it’s time to give birth the baby is part titanium (as is Alexia’s distended belly).  She dies in childbirth but her “father” accepts the hybrid baby as his own.  This art-house Euro-horror won several awards.  Exploring issues of both sexism and women’s body changes during pregnancy—particularly an unwanted one—the movie has something to say.  And it’s something that a male writer-director simply couldn’t do.  There are no jump-startles here, and the horror is a slow dread as the viewers’ sympathies tend to be with Alexia.  The first murder we’re shown is when a fan attempts to make love to her (it doesn’t go as far as rape), despite her lack of interest.  She has a motivation and it doesn’t seem evil.  And, of course, there’s a good deal of fantasy at play.  Like most Euro-horror, it leaves you thoughtful.


Meanwhile, on Earth

Low budget doesn’t always translate to cinematic disaster, but in The Crater Lake Monster, it unfortunately does.  I have a soft spot for those who attempt to make movies but don’t succeed the way that they’d hoped.  The Crater Lake Monster is poignant in that respect as the production company, Crown International, apparently messed up the financials and insisted on cutting scenes that helped to make a bit more sense of the story.  The actors are certainly not those at the top of their game, but the stop-motion plesiosaur isn’t half bad.  The story itself doesn’t seem to support its tonnage, however.  A meteor crashes into Crater Lake (not the famous one).  Some months later a monster begins attacking people after it eats up all the fish.  There are a handful of characters who are concerned, and some just casually passing through.

The sheriff, at first skeptical, becomes a believer after seeing with his own eyes.  The doctor, who examines a victim’s body, thinks there’s something in the lake.  A couple passing through on their way to Vegas see the monster up close and survive, but their trauma is so great that they can’t talk about it.  A pair of guys who rent out boats to fishers are having trouble because there’s no fish left.  And a pair of archaeologists from “University Extension” insist that the creature should be kept alive since, well, you don’t often come across dinosaurs.  They also figure out that the hot meteorite incubated a fertile plesiosaur egg that had been at the bottom of the lake for millions of years.  There’s even a story of a liquor-store robber thrown in.  The robber’s only tied to the plot by getting eaten by the monster.  The monster is finally killed by the sheriff with a bulldozer.

Some of the people that worked on this film, especially the stop-motion crew, had some recognizable chops in the biz.  One of them had worked on that childhood Christian kids’ show Davey and Goliath, and another was concurrently working on Star Wars and went on to work on Jurassic Park.  Meanwhile, Crater Lake is so bad that it’s a bit surprising that it hasn’t really become a cult classic.  Creature features are a guilty pleasure.  With a bit of coaxing, and financing, this one might’ve been made passable.  Who doesn’t like to see the underdog achieve some success?  Of course, it did come out the same year as Star Wars, with its budget, and clearly couldn’t compete down here on Earth.


Scary Things

I recently set myself the challenge to come up with the scariest movies I’ve seen, up to 1979.  The date is the publication date (I think) of Stephen King’s Danse Macabre, which gave me the idea.  Book publication dates can be difficult to decipher; I have the Berkley Trade paperback edition, which is copyrighted 1981 and published in ’82.  So, let’s just say 1980.  Now, I would never challenge Mr. King, who is older, and wiser (not to mention much better known) than me.  And I suspect, if I understand writers at all, his views may have changed since then.  Several of the films he discusses are thrillers.  And, of course, each person’s viewing history is unique as their thumbprint.  So let’s give it a try.  First, I need to say there are different kinds of scary.  We all have our triggers, and I’m going for things that frightened me.

Photo by Stefano Pollio on Unsplash

Since we’re using 1980 as the cutoff, The Shining has to be on the list (of course King wrote the novel).  Like most of these movies, I saw it at home and the theatrical experience would’ve made an even bigger impact.  The Exorcist also has to be on this list as well.  For older fare, Eyes Without a Face certainly qualifies.  The Haunting, based on Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House is among those in this period but it isn’t terribly scary.  I watched a number of King’s movies—many of which I’d never seen—and found some frightening ones among them.  Night of the Hunter, which makes me add the original Cape Fear, should be included.  So is The Bad Seed.  Something all of these have in common, apart from perhaps The Exorcist, is that they derive their terror from psychology.  There may be some supernatural involved, but the mind is the truly scary part.

Growing up—and even in the present—I’m not really looking to be scared.  I have no trouble getting to that state all by myself, thank you.  The monster movies of childhood thrilled with the unusual, and the realm beyond the everyday.  The haunted house movie held its own frisson for a similar reason.  Of course, children are often not developed enough to understand the nuances of psychological horror.  The more I ponder it, the more it seems that “horror” is the wrong name for what I’m after.   We gain bragging rights by watching scary movies.  And I don’t count jump startles as truly frightening.  I’m more of an existential dread kind of guy.  But I do love monsters.  Even this little exercise made me realize how difficult ranking such movies can be.  Perhaps I should bow to the King.


LA Story

David Lynch movies aren’t always easy to understand.  Last year we watched Twin Peaks, including the movie Fire Walk with Me.  Some time before that I’d watched Eraserhead.  My earliest, and unwitting, experience with one of his movies was Dune, which I saw in a theater in 1984.  I had no idea of who Lynch was at that time, however.  As I began exploring the horror genre I found a contingent strongly denying that Lynch directs horror.  Still, there were enough elements in Twin Peaks and Eraserhead that some viewers do move in that direction.  Now, I’d heard of Mulholland Drive many times over the years and I’d seen it classified as horror a time or two, but mostly as a thriller.  Over the holidays I actually had time to sit down and watch it.  And I’m still not sure how to classify it.

I’m not even sure that I can say what it’s about.  Since I watch movies alone most of the time, I turn to the internet to have “discussion” about them.  IMDb and Wikipedia are often good starting points.  There is a tremendously long article in the latter on this film.  Quite often Wikipedia provides not a ton of information about films, but here’s a case where contributors simply can’t say enough.  And none of them know for sure what it’s about either.  I suspect that’s why David Lynch is so highly regarded as a film maker.  He’s an artist.  What artist can explain what their work really means?  Lynch has been notably tight-lipped about what he intended this movie to say, but if you’ve watched Twin Peaks through, you get an idea of what you might expect.  It’s certainly an intellectual experience, and a surreal one.  But is it horror?

One of the terms often used to describe the movie is “nightmare.”  That seems like a horror-laden word, doesn’t it?  It’s often a matter of the characters not knowing who they really are (and the viewers don’t know either).  The thing that ties most of them together is that they’re involved in a movie in some way.  I’ve come to believe that things like books and movies and songs—things we mentally “consume”—become part of our minds, just like food becomes part of our bodies.  Some of the films we see are like junk food—fun, but all fluff.  A David Lynch movie will give you something of substance to chew on.  And finally having seen Mulholland Drive, I’d say it’s a much horror as Lynch’s earlier work has been, however you interpret that.


Bottoming Out?

It was an honest mistake, I swear!  I had remembered reading in Stephen King’s Danse Macabre that The Creeping Unknown was worth seeing.  I’d known about this movie under the title The Quatermass Xperiment since I was a tween.  The problem when you grow up with no money in a small town is that you don’t have access to such things.  Then a friend gave me a DVD of The Creeping Terror.  I thought it was The Creeping Unknown.  The disc hadn’t spun too many revolutions before I realized I was watching what may be the worst movie ever made.  Many reserve that for Plan 9 from Outer Space, but believe me, this is much worse.  The story of a couple of aliens sent to eat people to transmit to their superiors what our weaknesses are, it seemed to me that the main weakness is nobody thought to run from this slow-moving monster, except one guy who just abandoned his girlfriend to it. (Apparently girls don’t run.)

Like that other baddie, The Beast of Yucca Flats, the audio was not preserved so nearly all of the film is a voice-over by an authoritative-sounding announcer.  There are a few dubs, but they aren’t well done.  And then extended scenes of young people at a dance (have you ever heard of just filling up time?) are intercut with perhaps the slowest monster attack in history.  There’s so much not to like here.  The poor acting.  The plot nearly as dimwitted as Trump.  The stock footage of a rocket launch run backwards to make it look as if it’s landing.  The sheriff making out with his wife in the patrol car while “on a break” from looking for the monster.  The instrument panels from beyond our galaxy with Arabic numerals and Latin letters.  You find yourself hoping for the Apocalypse so you won’t have to watch the rest, and it’s only 74 minutes long.

Somehow it comes as little surprise that the director (also producer, editor, and star), under the name Vic Savage, disappeared never to be heard of again.  The film’s main financier, had to try to put the movie together for release.  (He also had a role in the movie.)  There is, as I’ve mentioned often before, an aesthetic to watching bad movies.  I’ve ended up seeing many of “the worst of all time” in my spate of movie viewing over the past three or four years.  This is the first time it has happened by mistake.  I do have to say that it’s easier to appreciate a bad movie when you can see that it’s coming and prepare yourself accordingly.  The Creeping Unknown remains elusive.


Vampire Lovers

Stylish, gothic, dramatic.  If it weren’t for the vampires you might not know that Only Lovers Left Alive is a horror movie.  Indeed, some say it’s not.  You can have movies about vampires that aren’t horror films, right?  Still, vampires defined horror, at the earliest stages.  There’s no on-screen violence in Only Lovers.  No, it’s about a pair of vampires named Adam and Eve, who are many hundreds of years old, that have developed different outlooks on undeath.  She reads and lives in exotic Tangier, enjoying herself.  He’s a depressed musician who lives in Detroit—there must be a book in horror movies set in post-industrial Detroit, wondering what’s the point.  In any case, they decide to get together in Michigan where they revel in each other’s company.  But then Ava, Eve’s troublesome sister pops in, unannounced.  Not refined or cultured like her sister and brother-in-law, she leads to trouble.

Eve and Adam move back to Tangier where whey have difficulty locating a good source of blood.  As cultured vampires, they do not attack people—zombies, as they call them—but procure it from doctors willing to sell.  When the supply runs out, they do what they must to survive.  This gentle story is art-house quality and it brings a different angle to the aristocratic vampire.  These vampires are the creators of culture.  The mortals sometimes appreciate it, but are generally too busy destroying the world to pay much mind to the superior creations all around them.  There’s not a hint of evil about these undead, subverting the usual narrative of such beings.

Vampire movies offer some complex possibilities.  They’re also a reminder why “horror” isn’t the best movie label ever invented.  Monsters by definition, vampires are portrayed in many ways—from animalistic, sometimes even with wings, to European nobility with great politeness and decorum, even as they bite your neck.  Then there are those who don’t attack people unless absolutely necessary.  They’re symbols of capitalism, with its greedy sucking of the blood of others.  They’re also symbols of evil, at times barely distinguishable from demons.  They seem endlessly adaptable.  In Only Lovers they are folks you’d be okay with, if they lived next door.  As long as Adam didn’t play his music too loud.  Since horror is a slippery term anyway, I opt for counting this in that genre.  In fact, I learned about it from a website listing stylish horror movies, so I’d say it counts.  Even if it’s just a bit out of the ordinary.


Historic Vampires

Vampire movies have always been a guilty pleasure.  The thing is, there are so many of them that watching them all would be the task of a lifetime (and a substantial budget).  Those of us who are constantly looking for, shall we say, new blood, can find that our lack of knowledge extends back for years, particularly if a movie didn’t make it big in our home country.  Daughters of Darkness is an early Euro-horror about Elizabeth Báthory.  A stylish, almost art house movie, what particularly struck me about it is that it was very well written.  The use of blood is restrained, given the topic, but verbal descriptions of Báthory’s excesses makes for a particularly gruesome scene.  So, about the story.  (This is from 1971, so I won’t worry about spoilers too much.)

A young couple (his backstory is inadequately explained in the movie, apart from being aristocratic), newlyweds, are headed to introduce her to his family.  Stefan (he) isn’t exactly the ideal husband (played convincingly by John Karlen), but Valerie (she) really wants to meet “mother.”  Stefan stalls the trip, and, in the off season, the couple have a luxury hotel to themselves.  Then Elizabeth Báthory shows up with her “secretary.”  Stefan is a little too interested in violence, as a string of murders make the headlines.  Meanwhile, Elizabeth begins making moves on Valerie.  We come to understand fairly early on that she’s a vampire, but no fangs appear and she’s always impeccably dressed and sophisticated.  Her secretary, who is having second thoughts, is accidentally killed while setting up Stefan as an unfaithful husband—again, the writing here is quite good—and Valerie becomes Elizabeth’s new secretary.

There’s a strong feminist aspect to this film, perhaps because Delphine Seyrig (Báthory) was a prominent feminist and would be attracted to such roles, it would seem.  The daughter of an archaeologist in Beirut, she supported women’s rights and there appear to be elements of this in the movie, although it was written by four men.  I was a bit too young for this movie when it came out, and art movies wouldn’t have stood a chance where I grew up, at least not in circles my family knew, so although Dark Shadows mainstay Karlen took a rare male lead role in the movie I’d been completely unaware of it.  But then, vampires are that way, aren’t they?  They tend to be old and well-hidden in the shadows.  Then they come at you with a bite when you least expect it.


Yes, Yes

You had to’ve seen this coming.  Ouija: Origin of Evil, with a different director and writer, and the same producer, pulled off the better prequel/sequel.  I don’t give that accolade lightly.  Now, I’m not a professional film critic, and I like to say nice things whenever possible, but even sequels/prequels that professional critics do say are better often find me in disagreement.  In this case I stand with them.  And I have some ideas, apart from natural talent, why it is so in this case.  The problem with ouija, and spirit boards, is that you have no way of knowing who or what may be answering your questions.  In the first movie we just know it’s someone with bad intent, and we need to wait until all the twists are finished to find out who.  The second begins with the premise that we already know who, but we want to know why and how.

But it goes deeper than that.  The first movie left religion out completely.  The prequel scoops it back in by the shovelful.  And if you want to make a movie about ouija work, you need to have demons.  To begin with, the family previously in the house is Catholic.  The kids go to Catholic school.  The headmaster is a priest who wants to help the family.  He quotes the Bible (Holy Sequel, anyone?)  He recognizes that the entity isn’t who it says it is.  Although showing demons is always a bit of a dicey proposition, the prequel opts for the preferred look from the period, and show them only dimly.  It still has to work with the world built by the original, which leads to a strange backstory of a Nazi in the basement operating on homeless people, but you have to work with what you’re given.

So the second movie is scarier and better made.  It didn’t earn as much as the first one did, though.  The idea hadn’t, I don’t think, been tapped out.  Rather, I think once you’ve laid out the premise, viewers have to be enticed back.  If a subject is mishandled, it does require extra work to convince viewers that the next experience will be better.  The critics, however, immediately saw the difference.  You really don’t have to know the story behind Ouija to see this movie, but it definitely helps.  It earned enough that unofficial sequels were released before the official prequel.  One of them only by a matter of days.  It pays to get it right the first time, and if you’re working with a naturally religious topic for your horror, you shouldn’t be afraid of religion.


Not the Witch

Hagazussa came to my attention from, I believe, the New York Times.  In the autumn normally staid news sources start suggesting horror films to watch.  Subtitled A Heathen’s Curse, this new Euro-horror (filmed in German) immediately reminded me of Robert Egger’s The Witch, but with a lot less plot.  It’s a moody and disturbing story of the life of an outcast young woman in the sixteenth century.  Raised by a poor, goat-herding mother, Albrun watches her mother die of the Black Death, when Albrun’s a tween.  She continues living in her childhood home, with a daughter whose origin, like that of Albrun, is never explained.  The locals shun her as a witch but a seemingly friendly villager befriends her before turning against her and betraying her.  After this neighbor, and then others, die, Albrun drowns her infant daughter after eating a toadstool in the woods.  She then bursts into flames atop a hill in the Alps.

As folk horror, the movie is more about the haunted landscape than about an intricately plotted story.  There’s nevertheless a great deal of symbolism used, including much regarding Eve—apples, serpents, and goddesses all play a part.  Locals fear pagans, and the church interior lined with bones reminded me strongly of St. Stephen’s Cathedral in Vienna, where plague victims’ bones fill the underground vaults.  Seeing such a place reminds you forcefully of your insignificance.  Hagazussa is an art film as well as folk horror, and it appeals to gothic sensibilities.  There’s very little dialogue.  Indeed, the loneliness of Albrun is a major aspect of this moody, atmospheric work.  Such stories always remind me of how difficult life was for those who had to try to scratch a living from the land.  Existence was tenuous at best.  Especially for women alone, as determined by Christian society.

The movie left me reflective.  It also underscored how religion and horror tread the same paths repeatedly.  The village priest tells Albrun that sacrilege must be cleansed, even as he hands her her mother’s skull, polished and decorated.  He wearily admits that he struggles to led the community.  Indeed, Albrun’s new “friend” castigates Jews and heathens, even as she takes part in the robbing of Albrun’s livelihood.  Witches, as “monsters” were invented by the church as fears reached out to point to new sources.  Even if they had to be fabricated at the expense of innocent people.  Fear operates that way still, as anyone who watches political ads knows.  It’s easier to persecute than to educate, it seems.  In the end, Albrun burns up and we realize we’ve just watched a parable.


Dead Trilogy

When we lived in New Jersey our internet wasn’t fast enough for streaming.  I’d watched George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead and Dawn of the Dead, but I was never able to find a DVD of Day of the Dead.  Well, it finally came around to streaming (thanks, Freevee), so I was able to complete the trilogy.  It doesn’t get discussed as much as the previous two, and it’s clear that it doesn’t come up to their level.  Still, the discussions of larger issues—God, civilization, and military power—are worth pondering.  There are a few jump startles but less intensive gore than the previous two, until well into it.  So, here’s the story: a base of operations has been set up in Florida where the military is overseeing civilian scientific experiments on the animated dead.  The military guy in charge is a real jerk and threatens to shoot those who don’t comply.  Also, there’s just one woman among them (who made that decision?).

As might be expected, things go haywire.  The head scientist, “Frankenstein” to this crew, is trying to teach the dead not to eat the living—to coexist.  The living are hopelessly outnumbered, and despite the Jamaican civilian, John, suggesting they go to a deserted island and start all over, everyone seems content to hang out and fight each other.  In the end, military overreach leads to everyone being killed except John, Sarah (the woman scientist), and Bill, who seems to be Irish.  In the end the three of them fly to a deserted island and you kind of get the idea that this will be a bit more of an R-rated Gilligan situation.  The film is campy and there is a comic tone throughout despite the serious issues raised and the actual horror elements (blood and zombies lurching out of the dark).

It actually also attempts to explain how the dead continue to move and why they eat with no internal organs.  The brain, down to its reptilian base, retains the eating instinct.  Frankenstein, before being killed by the military, is training the promising dead, especially Bub.  In the end, Bub kills the military guy.  As far as the story goes, it seems to send mixed messages.  The good guys do prevail and the dead, at least Bub, is more righteous than the fascist military that holds sway via constant threat.  One does get the sense that Romero was having fun with his zombie movies and some of the special effects were quite good.  I’m glad to have finished the trilogy, but I don’t think I’ll bother watching the remake, which was, back in the day, fairly easy to find on DVD.  They’re never as good as the dead they try to reanimate.


Ending the Cycle

Curious to finish out the “Poe Cycle” of American International Pictures, I looked up The Oblong Box.  The only thing similar to Poe’s tale is the title, as viewers must’ve come to have expected even in 1969.  Poe was the marketing to sell the film, but not much more.  Okay, the theme of premature burial has Poe’s fingerprints all over it, but that’s not part of his story “The Oblong Box.”  Now, as for the movie, it has several subplots and a pretty high body count.  Its ending isn’t really explained, but after starting out as seeming racist, it comes out justifying the actions of the Africans at the beginning.  In the middle it’s a muddle.  Pacing is completely off and some sub-plots, such as the police investigation, are summarily dropped.  Apart from the positive view of Black people, which is important, the film is a confusing criss-cross of unsavory motivations.

The Markham brothers own an Africa plantation and the trampling of a slave by a horse leads to revenge on the part of the slaves.  The scarred brother, Edward, is driven insane and he escapes his brother Julian’s care by being buried alive.  Grave-robbers, however, want him so Christopher Lee can experiment on his corpse.  Edward escapes again and dons a scarlet mask, but his insanity leads him to kill a variety of people, looking for the witch doctor who can cure him.  Meanwhile, an unscrupulous lawyer is cashing in on the brothers’ wealth but ends up being killed by Edward.  There’s a rather pointless bar fight, and, after killing Lee, Edward and Julian finally face off with Edward getting shot but biting his brother before he dies.  The witch doctor raises Edward from the dead, buried in his coffin, and Julian now has his brother’s scarred face (and presumably, his insanity).

The movie was the first to feature both Vincent Price and Lee.  The film had a change of directors, pre-production, and a script that was added to by another writer.  The plot verges on tedious and it’s difficult to feel sympathy for any of the characters, apart from the women, who don’t seem out to hurt anyone.  Price (Julian) also plays a “good guy” until the reveal near the end, but Edward dominates the screen time, all the while wearing a mask.  The “Phantom of the Opera” reveal is shot in the dark, however, and the results are not so grotesque.  And those who’ve read Poe’s story wonder where the ship might be.  This is the only Poe Cycle film not directed by Roger Corman, and he, as well as Poe, are both missed.


The Next Phase

Sometimes I get things backwards.  You have to understand that in the pre-internet era finding information was somewhat dicey.  Those of us from small towns had limited resources.  The movies I saw were on television, with a rare trip to the theater being a treat.  Books, on the other hand, could be had for a quarter or less at Goodwill.  There I found the sci-fi horror Phase IV by journeyman writer Barry N. Malzberg.  I knew there was a movie, which I hadn’t seen, and I assumed it was based on this novel.  Actually, the book was a novelization of the movie.  But it’s more complex than that.  The movie was based on an H. G. Wells story, screen-written by Mayo Simon, then novelized. That novelization made a real impression on me as a kid and I knew that I would eventually have to see the movie.

Some scenes from the novel were still alive to me before watching the film.  It occurs to me that maybe you don’t know what it’s about.  Intelligent ants.  Some cosmic event boosts ant intelligence and two scientists are sent to Arizona to sort it out.  A local family ignores an evacuation order, and when one of the scientists destroys the oddly geometric anthills, a war is on.  (I remembered the destroying the anthill scene.)  The war is both of might and wits.  Meanwhile the family is attacked—I remembered the scene of the ants eating the horse—with only a young woman surviving.  She’s found by the scientists after the first pesticide is released.  The ants attack, intelligently, the research station.  We never do see the expected ants popping out of Dr. Hubbs’ infected arm, but it’s clear by the end that the ants have won and we’re living in Phase IV.

A few observations: this is a scary movie, even if seventies’ fare.  The sci-fi elements dampen the horror down a bit, but it is still scary.  And it also references religion.  I watched the movie a few weeks after seeing The Night of the Hunter for the first time.  What does a Depression-era serial-killing preacher have to do with ants?  The hymn, “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms.”  Now, there’s a project out there for someone inspired by (if such a thing exists) Holy Horror.  Is there a discernible pattern of how hymns are used in horror?  I suspect there is.  That hymn is used so differently in these two movies that I’m convinced something deeper is going on.  If you’re interested, the idea’s free for the taking.  I’ve just spelled out two of the movies for you.


Escape Room

I didn’t go out looking for horror films in 1979.  I knew about Alien, of course.  Everyone did.  Even in a small town.  I didn’t see the movie until many years later, though.  I was still in high school and money was scarce (college was all either scholarship, loan, or work-study money).  If Tourist Trap ever came to town I didn’t know about it.  In fact, I didn’t know about it at all until reading Stephen King’s Danse Macabre.  Enough time has passed that the movie is now streaming for free and, indeed, it is David Schmoeller’s first film.  Critics didn’t love it, but King thought it had some appropriate eeriness, so why not?  It isn’t horrible—I’ve definitely seen worse.  And movies with animated mannequins hit that uncanny valley at just the right angle, even if poorly written.

The story’s a bit convoluted.  Five young people are on vacation and get drawn into, well, a tourist trap.  There’s a fair amount of psychokinesis that goes on, and the tourist trap is Slausen’s Lost Oasis, which is filled with animated wax-work figures/mannequins.  These are what make the film creepy.  As the plot unfurls, the kids get killed off, one-by-one, as horror viewers come to expect.  There is a bit of a “reveal” toward the end, so I won’t spoil it.  It is fair to say that insane antagonists were fairly common by 1979 and that the blurring of real people and manufactured ones is a bit unnerving.  There are some questions of motivation, and many times the characters don’t take the obvious steps to help themselves.  Still, the movie isn’t too bad.

I was drawn to it, having seen Schmoeller’s real groaner, Netherworld.  And King’s recommendation.  There is something about movies that are lacking in undefined ways that keeps you watching.  I was curious how Tourist Trap was going to end up.  There were several points at which I thought I’d figured it out, only to be told, “but wait, there’s more!”  The more wasn’t always really worth waiting for, but the ending has a bit of a payoff.  There is some slasher aesthetic here, but it’s unconventional enough that you may at least be kept guessing.  The thing that the movie gets right is that human figures that aren’t human are scary.  Many films play on this, of course.  Even if you’ve seen others, it still tend to ramp up the shudder factor a bit.  It only took four decades for me to stumble into this tourist trap, and it was a reasonable brief vacation from reality.


After Daytime

When you’re looking for freebies to watch, it helps to get some advice of what to see.  Particularly if it’s older (and more likely to be available).  I hadn’t heard of Night Watch until I saw it in Stephen King’s Danse Macabre list of really scary movies.  Granted, this was nearly a half century ago and many horror classics had yet to come.  Still, I was surprised at just how “ho-hum” Night Watch was.  Yes, it has a twist ending that makes some of the foregoing less credible, but that little hook was kind of neat.  Otherwise, the pacing is slow and the characters largely unsympathetic.  And scary it is not.  Granted, had I seen it as a young man in a theater, that might’ve made a difference.  I know that Fatal Attraction really bothered me in those circumstances.

The story of a rich couple with a traumatized wife and an unfaithful husband, it has trouble garnering the sympathy of some viewers.  Elizabeth Taylor’s acting is pretty good, and the setting (lots of British thunderstorms), and some good, creepy music do help the mood.  And if you’ve seen Rear Window and Gaslight a bit of this will look familiar.  Taylor’s character thinks she sees a murdered person in the adjacent house and as her hysteria increases nobody will believer her anymore.  Of course, her husband is having an affair with her best friend (who is living with them), so what could possibly go wrong?  The movie’s generally not considered horror, although a number of King’s favs aren’t.

That got me to thinking about what the scariest movies would’ve been to me back then.  Keep in mind that most of my childhood fare was Saturday afternoon monster movies.  If we move it ahead a few more years, say to the early-mid eighties, I was in college and saw more that was properly scary.  Of course, I didn’t see the really scary stuff until I lost my job at Nashotah House.  So by the mid-eighties my scare list would have included Jaws, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Psycho, and a Dracula movie that I didn’t catch the title of and for which have been trying to locate the specific scene that really set me off.  Oh, and The Cross and the Switchblade.  I was a child with many obvious phobias, and my mother didn’t allow really scary viewing.  A couple episodes of The Twilight Zone really bothered my young psyche.  Perhaps I need to put together a post on movies I’ve seen since then that fall into the Danse Macabre time frame.  There’d definitely be things scarier than Night Watch in there, I assure you.


Not Plan 9

Dementia 13 is a strange little movie.  It’s Francis Ford Coppola’s directorial debut, and it was produced by Roger Corman and released by American International Pictures.  Like many Corman/AIP movies, it was low budget and quick.  It seems that Corman had some money left over in the budget from a previous movie and he offered Coppola the opportunity to direct a film shot quickly and funded by the leftover funds.  With a script written in three days (and it shows), he set out to film what was intended to be a Psycho knock-off.  The title might give that away, although I’m not sure what the 13 has to do with it, other than being “unlucky.”  Shot in Ireland with mostly American actors, the film is suitably gothic, but the original start to the movie is a red herring.  So what’s it about?

A rich heiress has never recovered from the death of her young daughter, who drowned in the rather sizable pond on the estate.  One of her three sons dies early in the film, setting up a subplot that goes nowhere.  The two remaining sons, unaware of their brother’s death, keep the ritual of the annual acting out the sister’s funeral.  While the widow of the deceased son tries to work her way into the will, she is axe-murdered, bringing this into the horror genre.  The family doctor suspects something’s wrong (although viewers are led to suspect him), and finally solves the crime after another bit character is beheaded.  Part of the problem is the film is too brief to develop the ideas properly.  Released at only 80 minutes, with a 5-minute gimmicky prologue, you really don’t have time to absorb the psychology of the characters.

The influence of Psycho is pretty obvious, the wet woman slowly chopped to death while in the water, is the scariest scene in the movie.  It’s shot in such a way that it’s not obvious that she’s actually being struck until the end of the act (a budget thing, I suspect).  The wealthy widow drops out of the story as the family doctor becomes the self-appointed detective.  Of course, the previous deaths have been undetected, so no actual police come.  In sum, creepy (but not too creepy) Irish castle, siblings working at cross-purposes, a scheming daughter-in-law, and the irruption of the past into the present, along with the black-and-white filming, ofter a quick gothic thrill.  Otherwise, it seems more like homework than an example of foundational horror, but still, it has had inspired a remake, and that’s saying something for a three-day script.