X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: CAT PEOPLE

It isn't as scary as THE SHINING. It's not as groundbreaking as PSYCHO. It's not as epic as DAWN OF THE DEAD, as transgressive as LAST HOUSE ON DEAD END STREET or as startling as FREAKS. But I'd pick CAT PEOPLE -- the 1943 Val Lewton/Jacques Tourneur version, of course -- as my favorite horror movie of all time. And I'd be the first to admit that it's deeply personal, not necessarily logical choice -- mostly because I'm not even sure if it's really a horror film.

In fact, on one level, it's a very human (and, for 1943, very adult) drama: An All-American guy (Kent Smith, playing a character named, oddly enough, Oliver Reed) meets an attractive young Serbian fashion designer at the Central Park Zoo (Simone Simon as Irena Dubrovna). Irena tells him a strange little bit of folklore about her homeland, involving villagers who turned into cats. Oliver laughs it off, but it's obvious Irena takes this story very seriously. In fact, though they fall in love and get married, Irena's fear of what might be unleashed during a moment of passion keeps them apart, even on their wedding night. Before they retire for the night -- to separate bedrooms -- Irena says "I want to be Mrs. Reed, really. I want to be everything that name means to me. And I can't. I can't. Oliver, be kind, be patient. Let me have time. Time to get over that feeling there's something evil in me."

Pretty mature material for a 1943 film, but one of the strengths of CAT PEOPLE is that it treats its characters with intelligence and maturity. Irena's not some monster, and Oliver's not some villager with a pitchfork. The script (by Dewitt Bodeen) has enough sensitivity to make you care about both characters, and shows that they care about each other. There's a haunting shot of Irena kneeling next to her door, ready to claw through it as the snow falls outside -- but knowing she can't. Because if she lost control, the next thing she'd claw through would be Oliver.

CAT PEOPLE isn't all subdued drama, though. There are some genuine scares in this movie -- two of them involving Irena and "the other woman," Oliver's All-American co-worker, Alice (Jane Randolph). In the most famous one, Alice walks home alone past Central Park, followed by Irena. Alice gets more and more nervous as she hear footsteps behind her. The tension continues to build until, in a brilliant bit of sound editing, we think we hear the hiss of a cat -- but no, it's just a city bus pulling up to the curb. (The moment was so effective that producer Val Lewton referred to the technique as "a bus" and used variations of it in other movies.)

It's a great scene -- one of the best in horror film history, in fact -- and it ends on a genuinely disturbing note. We see quick cuts of the cats in the zoo (still caged) then some sheep, with three of them lying on the ground, dead. Cut to shots of muddy panther tracks slowly turning into high-heel prints on the sidewalk, then pan up to Irena, standing under a streetlight, slightly dazed, a handkerchief pressed to her lips.

The second bit of suggested terror comes when Alice heads down to a basement pool for a late-night swim. She hears the roar of a cat, so she dives into the pool, obviously hoping it's true that cats don't like water. As she treads water and tries to remain calm, we see -- well, we don't really see anything -- just some ominous shadows mixed with the reflection of the water on the walls. It's still nerve-wrackingly tense, though, and when Alice screams, we're relieved when the lights come on. Relief vanishes when we see who flipped on the lights: Irena, looking as innocent as can be. (Once she leaves, Alice discovers her robe has been slashed to ribbons.)

At this point, when a lesser movie would dive headfirst into horror territory, CAT PEOPLE still maintains its essential humanity. Even with a pair of not-so-veiled threats on her life, Alice doesn't want Irena hunted down. She and Oliver (now admitting they're in love) want Irena to get the psychiatric help they believe she needs. In fact, Oliver is willing to have her committed even knowing it means he can't divorce her and be with Alice.

Throughout its short running time (it's only 73 minutes long), CAT PEOPLE continues to focus on characters who seem to live in the real world where people aren't monsters to be destroyed but human beings with genuine, sometimes tragic problems. There's little doubt that Irena's stories are true, that she really does become a deadly panther when she loses control of her emotions. But to Oliver, a nice guy who's too levelheaded to believe in that sort of superstitious nonsense, Irena is a woman who needs medical help. The fact that he's wrong -- almost fatally wrong, as it turns out -- doesn't mean he's a bad guy.

The movie's third great scene of tension (one that's talked about a lot less than the previous two) comes when Oliver and Alice are working late at the ship construction company. When the phone rings but no one answers, Alice realizes it's probably Irena and suggests they leave before she arrives. But it's too late. The door is locked and something is in the room with them. In a beautifully shot sequence, with the light coming from the drafting tables, Oliver and Alice are backed into a corner by a snarling panther. Finally realizing it really is his wife, Oliver begs "Leave us, Irena," but the cat keeps stalking them. Then, proving he is willing to cling to some old beliefs after all, he pulls down a T-square and says "In the name of God, leave us, Irena." And she does.

Come to think of it, there is one monster in CAT PEOPLE, but it's not Irena. It's Dr. Louis Judd (played by Tom Conway, who played a much nicer character with the same name in Val Lewton's THE SEVENTH VICTIM.) An arrogant, somewhat cruel man, he thinks he can bully Irena into acting normal, and even tries to force himself on her sexually. And that's when we finally see Irena let down her guard and allow her emotions to run loose. She knows what sort of person Dr. Judd is, and she knows exactly what she'll do to him. And that pleases her. It even seems to turns her on...

Judd gets what's coming to him, and Irena succumbs to her fate, too. It's a sad ending, but an inevitable one, and all the characters are true to themselves as the final scene fades out. I've written several times this month about how shocking it can be to see an old movie that's bolder, or more terrifying, or more explicit than you ever would've expected. I've seen CAT PEOPLE at least a dozen times (I just watched it again Tuesday, in fact) and what amazes me is how smart it is. I wish all movies -- not just horror movies -- could be more like this truly great little film.

Watch it: Thankfully, CAT PEOPLE was released two years ago as part of Warner Bros. excellent Val Lewton collection. The disc includes not only the original trailer, interview excerpts with Simone Simon and commentary from horror expert Greg Mank, but it also includes CURSE OF THE CAT PEOPLE, the excellent 1944 sequel. It's a completely different sort of movie, but has the same intelligence and humanity as the original. Plus, Irena finally seems to have achieved some sort of peace.

Trivia note: The actor who plays Oliver's co-worker Doc Carver is Alan Napier, better known as Alfred on the 1960s BATMAN TV show.

Coming tomorrow: I take a day or two break from blogging -- because, after 31 days and 31 horror movies, this is, at long last ...

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: THE SHINING

THE SHINING is the scariest movie ever made.

I realize some people are going to disagree that statement, most notoriously Stephen King himself, who famously hates Stanley Kubrick's 1980 movie. But not me. I think it's a masterpiece, the work of a brilliant director working at the top of his form. And more than that -- it's damned scary.

I've seen the movie dozens of times, on big screen and small, alone and with a roomful of people. I know the plot. I know the twists. I've read the books about how the movie was made movie, and I've read the crazy internet theories about what it all means. There's no reason something this familiar should be able to get under my skin anymore.

And yet...

Every time I watch it, whether it's on DVD from the beginning or stumbling in during the middle while channel surfing, it grabs me. Critics call it "slow" and "pretentious," but I think the word they're looking for is "hypnotic." Kubrick had a lot of skills -- an amazing visual sense, an ear for music, the ability to push actors to their breaking points -- but one of the biggest guns in his arsenal was his ability to pace a movie.

THE SHINING starts slowly, and, unlike most horror movies, it continues slowly. But instead of being boring (at least to this viewer's eyes), it's mesmerizing. All those tracking shots down the halls of the Overlook, the patterns on the rug, the patterns of the maze, the sounds of Danny riding his Big Wheel, of Jack bouncing that tennis ball, of any of the back-and-forth, completely civil conversations that take place between Jack and Lloyd or Jack and Delbert -- they all builds to an almost trance-inducing state, so, by the time things really go off the rails -- say, when Wendy pages through Jack's "novel" -- you're practically a resident of the Overlook, too. And that, of course, is when Kubrick yanks out the (hypnotically patterned) rug.


For me, the most "horror movie" moment in the whole movie -- the woman in the bathroom turns out to be a horrible rotting corpse -- is the least frightening. Hell, it's so cheesy I half suspect Kubrick put it in to either lure us into a false sense of security or use it to contrast the really scary stuff. Because when THE SHINING does break out the scares, they're unlike anything I've seen in any horror film. What Kubrick does is shatter the carefully constructed rhythm of the movie you've been watching, the movie you've settled into. That's why it's long. That's why it's deliberately paced (aka "slow"). Because otherwise, if Kubrick just tossed you a lot of fast-paced horror imagery from the get-go, it wouldn't have nearly the same effect. In fact, like most so-called horror movies, it wouldn't have any effect at all.

But when THE SHINING -- like its lead character -- actually goes insane, it's genuinely unnerving. All those title cards that seemed to signify some pattern suddenly just say things like "4 p.m." or something equally meaningless, and you realize they never meant anything. There was never any order. You were never safe. And, just to drive that point home, Kubrick hits you with disturbing imagery, too fast to get a grasp on, visuals that make little to no sense. There's the Grady girls, of course, lying in a blood-soaked hallway, and the bloody guy with the drink saying (cheerfully), "Lovely party, isn't it?" But the one that always gets me is the one without any blood at all...

I know it's explained in the novel, but what makes the movie THE SHINING so terrifying is that there's no explanantion given. That image is just there, and you don't know what it means. For a while, while Kubrick lulled you into the rhythms of the Overlook, you were Jack, slipping into insanity but not minding. As a matter of fact, you were sort of enjoying it. Now, as the movie goes crazy all around you, you're Wendy -- and you don't know what the hell is going on.

And that, my friends, is scary.

Watch it: Warner Bros. just released a two-disc DVD of THE SHINING as part of its Stanley Kubrick collection that includes a remastered, widescreen print of the movie, plus some retrospective features. It also "The Making of the Shining," the behind-the-scenes footage shot by Kubrick's daughter, Vivian. It's a rare look at the master at work.

Trivia note: Danny Lloyd, who plays Danny Torrance (and didn't know he was starring in a horror movie) only appeared in one other film: As a young G. Gordon Liddy in the TV movie WILL.

Coming tomorrow: The final film. Any guesses? Here are a few hints: It's in black and white, and though the director hasn't appeared on the list yet, both the star and the producer have.

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: THE WIZARD OF OZ

This post is going to be on the shorter side from three reasons. One, everyone has seen the movie. Two, everyone has written about the movie. And three, I'm in the home stretch now, and frankly, I'm a bit tired.

I just want to say a few words about THE WIZARD OF OZ, why it's scary, and specifically, why it's scary to children.

I remember being frightened by this movie when I was a kid. It was probably the first movie that had that effect on me, that I knew was "made-up" but still frightened me and made me wish it was over. I can even remember the scene: Dorothy has been captured by the Witch and is staring at that giant crystal ball. Auntie Em appears, and Dorothy leans in and starts talking to the image. Then, just as Dorothy's guard is completely down -- BANG! The Wicked Witch appears and mocks her, saying "Auntie Em! Auntie Em!" Man, that really got to me.

It wasn't just the witch's sudden appearance, either, or her mocking screech. It was the idea that Dorothy was far away from home and had no way of getting back. And that's why I think THE WIZARD OF OZ, a bright, colorful musical that's been around for seven decades still has the power to strike a nerve with children. Kids don't really understand death, so while monsters might scare 'em, the concept of dying doesn't. They don't know what it means. Sure, BAMBI is legendarily traumatic, but I'd argue it's not because Bambi's mother dies, it's because Bambi can't find his mother. A slight difference, sure, but a crucial one.

That's because one things kids do understand is the concept of being lost, of not being able to find mom or dad -- of not being able to get home. When I watched OZ as a kid, it never occurred to me that Dorothy might die. But what did strike me -- and what gave the movie its power -- is that Dorothy was lost, that she was far away from her mom and dad (or, in her case, aunt and uncle) and a mean lady was preventing her from getting back to them.

I've seen my own daughter's face when we're in a room and she loses track of me for a second-- suddenly, the only thing important is the location of dad. When she's a little older and able to focus on a movie that's not FINDING NEMO, I'll introduced her THE WIZARD OF OZ. I'll bet it has a similar impact on her. Not that I'm looking to deliberately terrify her, but if she wants to watch it, I'll be happy to show it to her. That's how kids learn to deal with life -- but facing scary things in their imagination, first.

No matter how old she is, though, I doubt she'll be ready for the Flying Monkeys. Nobody's ever ready for the Flying Monkeys. Those guys? They're scary.

Watch it: Not exactly a hard movie to see, is it? There are all sorts of DVD releases with various levels of bonus features, plus it shows up frequently on TV. My advice? Watch it on DVD so you can avoid the commercials. Any scary movie -- even THE WIZARD OF OZ -- needs time to build its mood.

Trivia note: Harry Earles -- star of the previously mentioned FREAKS -- is one of the Munchkins who represents the Lollipop Guild.

Coming tomorrow: The scariest horror movie of them all. No kidding.

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE

If you've never seen THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE (and I'm talking about the original here, obviously), there are two things you should know:

1. It's not as bad as you think.

2. It's much worse than you think.

Those statements are both true, and not in some cutesy "it's not bad, it's worse" sort of way. Most people who haven't seen the movie think it's a nonstop barrage of screaming chainsaws and flying body parts. (Hell, that's what I thought.) Truth is, Tobe Hooper's 1974 horror classic is downright Hitchcockian in its restraint, with surprising little blood and virtually no gore seen onscreen. And that chainsaw? It only accounts for a single onscreen death and no dismemberment. (It does get waved around a lot, though -- to memorable effect.)

Sounds positively family friendly, right? Well, that brings me to point No. 2: THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE is one of the most intense, claustrophobic, nerve-wracking horror movies ever made. And that's mostly for reasons that can barely be understood, much less duplicated.

Sure, it's easy to pick MASSACRE apart, scene by scene, shot by shot, and analyze how Tobe Hooper placed the camera here for maximum tension or ended a shot there to let the terror linger, but the truth is, when you're watching the movie, you're too worried about what's going to happen next to break the experience down and analyze it. Some films excel at shocking the audience with a surprise gross out or sudden turn of plot, and some movies (Hitchcock's the prime example here, of course) work by ratcheting up the suspense until it's almost unbearable. But I'd argue the best horror movies -- and I'd definitely count THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE among them -- work by generating a sense of dread. Things are bad, but what's really troubling is the nagging feeling they're going to get worse. Much worse.

THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE takes its time making the audience feel troubled. We get to know the whiny, squabling teens in the van, and everything seems pretty normal, but that changes when they pick up a hitchhiker played with consumate creepiness by Edwin Neal. He taunts the kids, threatens them and slices open his palm, giggling the whole time. They kick him out, but the die is cast. Obviously, this trip will not end well.

And still, the movie doesn't hit us with the horror right away. The kids meet a gas station owner who warns them against visiting an old house. A little weird, but he's friendly enough. They visit a swimming hole, but it's empty. Finally, they wind up at an old farm house. Hoping to get some gas, one of them, Kirk, walks inside. It looks deserted and ominous, but it's still daylight. How bad could it be?


Very bad, it turns out. Maybe the worst house on the face of the Earth. After all that slow, suspenseful (and dreadful) build up, THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE suddenly lurches into high gear with absolutely no warning. Kirk steps into the house, a door opens, and a big man in a human-face mask clubs him with a sledgehammer, drags him behind a steel door and slams it shut. That's it. No warning, no explanation, nothing.

And from that point, the movie never lets up . All the dread that's been building explodes, over and over again, as the teens get killed off and the situation gets more terrifying. In the film's low point (or high point, if you're a horror movie fan), lone survivor Sally thinks she's finally managed to escape, only to be knocked out and wake up as the guest of honor at a hellish dinner party. Behind-the-scenes reports say filming that sequence was miserable, with the heat topping 100 degrees in the house and all the animal bones creating a terrible stench. Somehow, all that horror comes right off the screen, making for one of the most nightmarish scenes in movie history.

Sounds like fun, right? Well, it is fun, sort of, if you're a horror movie fan. It's a pleasure -- a strange pleasure, but a pleasure nonetheless -- to have a talented director put the screws to you for 90 minutes or so. People compare horror movies to rollercoasters for a reason: they're both intense experiences that simulate violence, but nobody gets hurt.

Also, TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE isn't playing the same game as slasher movies like FRIDAY THE 13TH or NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET, or, for that matter, modern movies like SAW. For better or for worse, Hooper places you squarely with the victims. You're not following them in some lurching, first-person tracking shot, making bad jokes about their dire predicament or admiring the intricate killing machines you've built to torture them. You're suffering right along with them, hoping against hope that they'll escape.

THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE, to its credit, is never about how cool the monsters are. It's about how terrifying they are. And believe me -- they're plenty terrifying.

WATCH IT: The new "Ultimate Edition" TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE DVD has everything you could want, including tons of behind-the-scenes extras and a remastered print of the film that somehow retains its original grunginess.

TRIVIA NOTE: Providing the narration during the opening credits is none other than TV star John Larroquette.

COMING TOMORROW: How scary can a G-rated family classic be? Pretty damn scary.

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: MAD LOVE

Of all the actors associated with horror, Peter Lorre made the biggest mark outside the genre. Sure, Karloff had SCARFACE, and Lugosi had, er, GLEN OR GLENDA, but from his debut in Fritz Lang's M to his final appearance in Jerry Lewis' THE PATSY, Lorre starred in some memorable movies. Sure, some of them were crap (I'm looking at you, MUSCLE BEACH PARTY), but any resume that includes both THE MALTESE FALCON and CASABLANCA is damn impressive (and either belongs to Lorre, Bogart or Sydney Greenstreet).

Still, my favorite Lorre performance lies squarely in the horror genre. MAD LOVE (1935) was his American movie debut, and it's hard to imagine a more impressive one. Lorre plays famed surgeon Dr. Gogol, a man whose medical genius is exceeded only by his creepy obsession for Yvonne Orlac (Francis Drake), star actress of the gruesome Grand Guignol theater. It's the sort of role that was obviously tailor-made for Lorre, and he does not disappoint, bringing pathos, passion and even a bit of dark comedy to Dr. Gogol.


The movie that surrounds that performance is pretty amazing, too. You know you're in for a wild ride right from the start, with a shadow figure accompanying Lorre's screen credit, the title written in frost on a window and names like Colin Clive (Dr. Frankenstein himself), Ted Healy (the Three Stooges' boss) and Gregg Toland (cinematographer of a little movie called CITIZEN KANE) in the credits. Best of all, when the credits are done, a fist flies onscreen and smashes the window they're written on. Now that, my friends, is how you start a movie!

The movie doesn't let up, either, delivering imaginative visuals throughout. When Lorre enters the theater, he encounters several employees all done up in elaborate horror costumes (the coat check guy has no head!). From there, Lorre moons over Yvonne's statue in the lobby and bothers her backstage, but it's no use. Her heart belongs to husband Stephen Orlac, a concert pianist -- and that's where the plot of MAD LOVE hits the sort of wonderfully twisty road you only see in horror movies.

Stephen loses those ivory-tickling hands in a terrible accident, and naturally there's only one surgeon around with the skill to give him a new pair. Of course, Gogol agrees to help because it will please his dear Yvonne, but -- and here's the big twist -- the only hands available are from a recently executed knife thrower. The operation is a success, but sadly, Stephen has a hard time re-learning to play the piano. I'll bet you can guess what new skill he's acquired, though.

MAD LOVE lives up to its title, with Gogol constantly topping himself for crazy, obsessive behavior, and director Karl Freund topping himself, too. Freund was a visual genius who started out as cinematographer on movies like METROPOLIS and THE GOLEM, moved to Hollywood to work on DRACULA and MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE, stepped up to directing on this, THE MUMMY and a few other films, but ended his career as chief cinematographer on, believe it or not, I LOVE LUCY. I'm sure the money was good, but it's a step down from MAD LOVE. A big step.

That's because MAD LOVE is consistently surprising like few movies made then or now. There's always a new visual treat or offbeat character to keep things interesting (Rollo, the knife thrower who goes to the guillotine, is especially endearing.) And though the ending is well-staged but fairly predictable, what precedes it is like nothing seen before in cinema -- or since, for that matter.

Still hoping to have his Yvonne, Gogol plans to drive her husband mad by pretending to be the executed Rollo, who claims to be recipient of a transplant much more extreme than a mere pair of hands. Stephen, though shaky, doesn't believe him, saying Rollo died on the guillotine. "Yes, they cut off my head," the masked Gogol says. "But that Gogol ... he put it back.... here!"

And then he reveals his face, and along with it one of the truly startling images in horror movie history:

Any movie would have a tough time following that, and if MAD LOVE never tops it in its final moments, it does end on a note of melodramatic tragedy, leaving no doubt that poor, lonely Gogol was the real hero of this story. They didn't give Oscars for horror movies back then (and, for the most part, they still don't now), but it would've been nice to see Lorre so honored for his work in MAD LOVE. If nothing else, it would've given Gogol another little bald man to keep him company.

Watch it: MAD LOVE is available on the excellent HOLLYWOOD LEGENDS OF HORROR COLLECTION that Warner Bros. released last year. Besides MAD LOVE, it also includes DR. X, THE RETURN OF DR. X (Humphrey Bogart in his only horror movie), DEVIL DOLL, MARK OF THE VAMPIRE and THE MASK OF FU MANCHU. Great stuff!

Trivia note: Think I'm going overboard with that Oscar talk? Charlie Chaplin himself called Lorre the best actor in movies after seeing MAD LOVE.

Coming tomorrow: Deep in the heart of Texas.

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: ISLAND OF LOST SOULS

The Pre-Code era is a fascinating time in film history, coming after the arrival of sound but before the restrictive Hays Code grew some teeth. For a few years -- from 1929 to 1934 -- movies were more free than any time until the late 1960s.

Most of the more notorious movies from this era were sexy, gritty dramas (NIGHT NURSE, BABY FACE and WATERLOO BRIDGE) or violent, amoral gangster pictures (THE PUBLIC ENEMY and SCARFACE). But don’t forget -- this same period was the golden age of sound horror movies, with DRACULA, FRANKENSTEIN and the previously mentioned FREAKS and THE BLACK CAT all pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable. And few movies pushed harder or got away with more than 1932’s ISLAND OF LOST SOULS.

The movie starts like dozens of others, with All-American guy Edward Parker (Richard Arlen) winding up on a deserted island where mad scientist Dr. Moreau (Charles Laughton, perfect in the role) conducts his experiments. FRANKENSTEIN brought us the definitive mad scientist the year before (and would refine that portrait in BRIDE a few years later), but ISLAND OF LOST SOULS is bolder and more explicit in depicting just what goes on in the lab. Most of what Dr. Frankenstein does is off-camera, and we only catch up with him for the scene where he gives life to his creation. But there’s no doubt about what Moreau is up to, conjuring up crude humanized-animals that he rules over like God.

In FRANKENSTEIN, the doctor’s line "Now I know what it feels like to be God" was cut from original prints. Moreau’s line, "Mr. Parker, do you know what it means to feel like God?," remained intact. It’s delivered much more casually than Colin Clive’s scream to the heavens, and it more chilling for that reason. Moreau isn’t a reluctant God like Frankenstein, immediately regretting his act of creation. He relishes it and repeats it over and over, dragging more animals (kicking and screaming, I’ll bet) up the evolutionary ladder. And once he’s done creating, Moreau gleefully takes the next step of God and lays down the law in no uncertain terms. Some of the most powerful scenes in the film -- in fact, in horror movie history -- showcase "The Sayer of the Law" (Bela Lugosi, in heavy makeup, but also in one of his best performances), Moreau and the other beasts reciting his rules:

Moreau: What is the law?
Sayer: Not to eat meat, that is the law. Are we not men?
Beasts: Are we not men?
Moreau: What is the law?
Sayer: Not to go on all fours, that is the law. Are we not men?
Beasts: Are we not men?
Dr. Moreau: What is the law?
Sayer: Not to spill blood, that is the law. Are we not men?
Beasts: Are we not men?

Right now, you're reading those lines on a computer screen, maybe even thinking of the Devo song they inspired, so they might seem a little silly. But trust me, in the movie, with torchlight glittering off the beast men's deformed faces, with Moreau brandishing his whip and quick, uneasy shots of semi-human feet, faces and hands, it’s not silly. It’s scary.

But that’s only half the tale. In most horror movies, the weakest element is the love story, shoehorned in by the studio in some misguided bid to appeal to the romance in its audience. (Really, who cares about Dr. Frankenstein’s wife?) But ISLAND OF LOST SOULS takes the cliche and twists it in a surprising, disturbing way. Though Parker’s fiancee Ruth eventually shows up (and she’s played by Leila Hyams of FREAKS), that’s not the romantic pairing Moreau is hoping for. He wants to move beyond turning animals into men and actually create life -- by mating Parker with the sultry Lota (Kathleen Burke). Like Irena in CAT PEOPLE, Lota is a beautifully woman with a certain feline aura about her. Unlike Irena, Lota actually is a panther Moreau has successfully (well, semi-successfully) turned human. But, when you get right down to it, she’s still a cat — and Moreau wants Parker to mate with her. No wonder this movie was banned for 25 years in England. Frankly, it’s amazing it was released anywhere.

Parker, being the upstanding, All-American hero, is having none of it (though you wonder if he wasn’t at least tempted) and realizes he has to get off the island with Ruth (Moreau apparently has plans for her, too). That’s when ISLAND OF LOST SOULS stampedes toward its wild ending, which is still shocking decades later. The beast men have finally had enough and rebel against their Creator, dragging him to the much-dreaded House of Pain. Parker and Ruth escape, but frankly, we’ve ceased to care about them. What sticks with us is the final shots of Moreau, being strapped to his operating table as the enraged beast men break open the cabinet full of medical equipment. The camera leaves and we can only hear Moreau’s screams, but there’s little doubt that those gleaming white walls of the operating room and aren’t white anymore.

WATCH IT: Unfortunately, ISLAND OF LOST SOULS isn’t available on DVD. It was released on videotape, so you might be able to scrounge up a copy of that on eBay. It shows up on Turner Classic Movies every so often, too.

TRIVIA NOTE: I can’t pick them out, but Alan Ladd, Randolph Scott and Buster Crabbe supposedly play beast men — though if they're there, they’re under heavy makeup and unrecognizable.

COMING TOMORROW: Peter Lorre meets Frankenstein!

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: VIDEODROME

David Cronenberg is one of my favorite directors, and not just because he makes shocking movies that explore the outer edges of human behavior. I mean, that's part of it, sure, but when I finish watching a Cronenberg movie, what sticks in my mind isn't the gore, the blood or the bodily fluids. I'm struck by how intelligent the movie was -- and I'm grateful that I just sat through a movie that was actually about something.

Even his first major movie, SHIVERS, is startling not because of its plot (essentially, a creepy little worm turns an ultra-modern apartment complex into a hive of crazed sex zombies) but because Cronenberg takes what could've been a dumb, trashy exploitation idea (Sex Zombies!) and instead thinks it through and takes it to its limit. And Cronenberg's idea of a limit doesn't match everyone else's. More often than not, his films end with the "hero" succumbing to whatever he's been battling all along. It's not that he loses in the conventional sense, it's that he realizes he's been fighting on the wrong side. The "villain" -- whether it's a sex zombie virus or a scary new idea -- is really the hero of the film, and though it doesn't feel like it, it's actually meant to be happy ending. Sort of.

Which brings us to today's movie, VIDEODROME. Though it was released in 1983 (the same year, coincidentally, that my family got its first VCR -- though you can bet my parents didn't rent VIDEODROME) it anticipates many of the media concepts we're wrestling with now -- virtual reality, realistic (but fake) violence, reality TV, pop culture as religion, a political swing to the right -- but it takes them further. Much further.

Max Renn (James Woods) is a cable TV programmer looking for something different. His buddy, Harlan, shows him a fuzzy transmission of people chained to a wall (of electrified clay -- yikes!) being tortured and, apparently killed. Max falls in love with the show, called "Videodrome," and wants to add it to his lineup. (Seeing it only in snippets, he wonders "when does the plot kick in" and comments that it "looks so real." You know, for a smart-ass cable programmer, he's pretty naive.) Something else happens around this time, too. Max meets cool, cruel radio host Nicki Brand (Debbie Harry) and though they don't exactly fall in love, they definitely fall in lust (though it's a chilly, distanced Cronenbergian sort of lust) and when she digs "Videodrome" even more than him, a connection is clearly made.

Up to this point, VIDEODROME has been, if not exactly normal, then at least in the same neighborhood. But after Max has been watching "Videodrome" (the show) for a bit, things begin to change. And this, my friends, is where VIDEODROME (the movie) gets tricky. Because while things are changing for Max, they're changing for the viewer, too. The hallucinations he experiences (if they are, in fact, hallucinations) come without warning or any of the standard movie devices for telling the audience "Hey! What he's seeing right now isn't real!" Instead, Cronenberg gives the viewer enough credit to figure out that when Max, for example, sticks a pistol into a gaping slit in his stomach, that might be a sign that things have gotten strange. But as for what it means and how it fits into the larger story? That's up to you.

VIDEODROME is full of shocking, disturbing imagery. This is the movie where Cronenberg's fascination with the body taking new forms really took flight after SHIVERS, RABID and THE BROOD, and if the special effects aren't quite on the level of his 1986 film, THE FLY, they're still pretty striking. I have a hard time seeing how CGI would improve on what's here. The aforementioned stomach slit? The pulsing TV screen with Nicki's lips that Max practically falls into? The "hand grenade" (bad pun, gruesome visual) that Harlan grows on the end of his arm? All unforgettable, and all uncomfortably solid looking. They're one of the main reasons VIDEODROME packs a punch almost 25 years after it was released. Those images don't leave your head -- at least not willingly.

But anyone can load a movie with compelling visuals. In VIDEODROME, Cronenberg matches those visuals with compelling ideas, giving them an ominous logic and meaning that make them even more disturbing. This, like Cronenberg's other movies, is a film of ideas. It's not just scary, it's scary smart. (How many other horror movies can you name with a character inspired by Marshall McLuhan?) I've seen VIDEODROME several times and I look forward to seeing it again -- not just because it's such a visual feast and because it's so wonderfully creepy, but because it has a lot to say. And I'm still trying to figure out exactly what that is.

Watch it: The Criterion DVD of VIDEODROME is damn near perfect, with a remastered print of the unrated version, commentary from Cronenberg, Woods, Harry and cinematographer Mark Irwin, lots of making-of material, stills, extended footage, a horror movie roundtable and the original trailer (which, incidentally, is the worst movie trailer I've ever seen). Best of all, it comes in a box that looks exactly like a Beta tape, complete with "Long Live the New Flesh" scrawled on the fake label.

Trivia note: James Woods was nervous about wearing the virtual reality-type helmet in a later scene in the film, so that's actually Cronenberg on camera (and in Woods' clothes) during that scene.

Coming tomorrow: What is the law?

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: DEMENTIA

Sometimes, like a lazy video store clerk, you stick a movie in the horror section because you don't know where the hell else to put it.

DEMENTIA is that kind of move. It could fit into any number of categories -- art film, exploitation film, film noir, beat experiment, you name it -- but somehow, horror seems to cover all the bases. Otherwise, believe me, it's a tough fit.

DEMENTIA is one of the few movies in existence that genuinely lives up to the term "Lynchian." It's a dream movie with a lead character who sings in a nightclub, an eerie score (complemented by the even eerie-er vocals of Marni Nixon), some not-so-buried Freudian psychology, a touch of shocking gore and a bizarre ending that could be interpreted a hundred different ways. It's like MULHOLLAND DR., BLUE VELVET and FIRE WALK WITH ME wrapped into one movie, but it was released in 1955 when Lynch was only nine years old. He couldn't have seen it then -- it was barely released -- but he somehow did, that would explain a lot.

DEMENTIA was the creation of John J. Parker, whose parents owned the J.J. Parker Theatres chain. Parker filmed a 10-minute short based on a dream his secretary, Adrienne Barrett, had, and -- eventually -- that short became this movie, with Barrett played the lead role of "The Gamin." Actor Bruno Ve Sota (whose corpulent puss can also be seen in such classics as DADDY-O and ATTACK OF THE GIANT LEACHES) played "The Rich Man" and West Coast jazz legend Shorty Rogers and his Giants appeared in the crazed nightclub finale.

Completed in 1953, the movie was rejected by the New York Censor Board as "indecent, inhuman, (would) tend to corrupt morals, tend to incite crime." The film was appealed, rejected, appealed and rejected again. Finally, Parker gave up and shelved the film. Another distributor tried again, and after some cuts and a screening of the poll to 21 New York City teachers, who filled out comment cards like this one...

After all that, DEMENTIA finally made its debut in 1955 on a double bill with a Picasso documentary. Needless to say, no one saw it. Then, in 1957, Exploitation Productions Inc. (great name!) got the distribution rights. A narration by none other than Ed McMahon was added, the movie was resubmitted and -- viola! -- it was released as DAUGHTER OF HORROR. (It even makes a cameo in THE BLOB.)

So that's where it came from. What the hell is it?

Well, explaining its convoluted past is easier than explaining its storyline. DEMENTIA really does feel like a dream, with disconnected scenes reflecting and even replaying each other with subtle changes.

The movie follows "The Gamin" as she awakens from a dream and wanders the dark, sleazy streets of L.A. She meets a dwarf selling newspapers (Angelo Rossitto, from both DRACULA VERSUS FRANKENSTEIN and FREAKS, making him the only three-timer on this list!), gets into a car with "The Rich Man" , has a wild, disturbing dream about her parents in a cemetery, then arrives at The Rich Man's apartment. After he eats some fried chicken, he puts the moves on her, waving a big roll of bills. She acts compliant, then stabs him with a switchblade and watches as he falls out the window.

Strange, right? You ain't seen nothing yet. The Rich Man's butler becomes The Rich Man, then switches back again. The Gamin panics, runs downstairs and sees a silent, still crowd (with mesh masks over their faces) has gathered around his corpse. Seeing he's still clutching her necklace, The Gamin crawls over to the body, pulls out her switchblade and cuts off The Rich Man's hand. Let me say that again. SHE CUTS OFF THE RICH MAN'S HAND. And this is no quick-and-easy slice, either. She's sawing away at it for a long time, getting more panicked as that creepy crowd just stands there, watching.

Weird enough for you? It's not over yet. Stuffing the hand in her coat, The Gamin goes to a nightclub where she's apparently going to be singing with the band. (This, more than anything else, is when the movie really captures the feeling of a dream.) The Evil Man tosses an evening gown in the air and it miraculously replaces her clothing. The club is a wild place, with Shorty Rogers and his Giants playing and the crowd (including a mixed-race couple dancing -- not something you're used to seeing in a 1952 movie) getting crazy.

The Gamin sings (sort of -- have I mentioned there's absolutely no dialogue in this movie? Well, there's no dialogue in this movie.) but a cop drags the corpse of The Rich Man to the window and soon everyone on the club is laughing maniacally and pointing at her (even, as the cop reveals his stump of an arm, The Rich Man's corpse!) Cut to a series of genuinely disturbing shots of people laughing, some quick flashes back to previous events and ...

... then we're back in that apartment room, with The Gamin waking up. Yes, it's the "It was all a dream -- or was it?" ending, but somehow, it works perfectly here.

I first heard of DEMENTIA back in college, from one of the books that shaped my film tastes, RESEARCH: INCREDIBLY STRANGE FILMS (the others in that holy trinity being THE PSYCHOTRONIC ENCYCLOPEDIA OF FILM and CULT MOVIES). Jim Morton edited the RESEARCH book, and he also wrote an essay about the off-kilter brilliance of DAUGHTER OF HORROR (the only version anyone had a chance at seeing in the 1980s.) I've read a lot of movie books in my life (believe me -- a lot) and I've been disappointed time and time again by movies critics gushed that didn't match the hype.

That's not the case with DEMENTIA. It lives up to every bit of over-the-top praise it gets -- and then some. It's really one of a kind.

Watch it: Kino's DEMENTIA DVD is excellent, with both DEMENTIA and the DAUGHTER OF HORROR in their entirety, plus a trailer, pressbook and other promotional material. There's also an extensive essay tracing the history of the film, complete with several illustrations, letters and other material. (It's where I got the background info for this entry.)

Trivia note: The cinematographer on DEMENTIA was William C. Thompson, who also served as DP on MANIAC and PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE. Not sure what happened here, but this movie looks amazing. Hard to believe it's the same guy.

Coming tomorrow: Long live the new flesh!

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: HAXAN

HAXAN is one of the most startling movies ever made. If it were released today it would be shocking; the fact that it was released 85 years ago is nothing less than astonishing. Directed by Danish filmmaker Benjamine Christensen, it's a documentary (actually a mockumentary) about the history of witchcraft, with special attention paid to the most lurid elements. Women kissing demonic rear ends? Check! Women giving birth to monsters? Check! Devil putting a baby in a cooking pot? Check! Plenty of footage of bizarre torture methods complete with cruel religious folk barely concealing their glee? Check and double check!

But HAXAN is much more than some cheap exploitation film. It's an imaginative, witty, satirical, beautifully film and apparently fairly expensive exploitation film. And believe me, there's never been another movie like it. Because it's a silent film, I'm just going to post some choice screen captures and let the images speak for themselves. It's not like anything I say could begin to compete with Christensen's wild visuals...

Watch it: The Criterion DVD of HAXAN is excellent. Besides a beautifully restored print of the film (where all the above screen captures are from), you also get WITCHCRAFT THROUGH THE AGES, the 76-minute 1968 version (with narration by William Burroughs), outtakes, a stills gallery and commentary track.

Trivia note: See that devil in the first image? That's director Benjamin Christensen. No kidding!

Coming tomorrow: Ed McMahon? Really?

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: SHAUN OF THE DEAD

Discussing LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS, I said good horror comedies are rare because it's so tough to balance the horror with the comedy. SHAUN OF THE DEAD manages to do that masterfully, though, using the horror to make the laughs bigger, then using the comedy to make the terror more intense. I've seen SHAUN several times, on big screen and small, and it's the sort of movie that, if I stumble onto it while I'm channel surfing, I'll stick with it to the end. It's smart, funny, scary and insanely entertaining. What more do you want in a movie -- let alone a horror movie?

One thing, by the way, that SHAUN OF THE DEAD is not is a satire. It has no intention of, as the characters might say, taking the piss out of zombie movies. This isn't SCREAM, where our heroes postmodernly point out the tropes and trappings of the genre. SHAUN works so well because it doesn't try to diffuse the tension with a lot of in-jokes (well, they do mention a restaurant called "Fulci's") or characters letting you know that, hey, we're in on the joke. To them, this isn't a joke. The world has been overrun by zombies and they have to survive. That's it. One rule of telling a compelling story is take a normal person and put them in an extreme situation -- and that rule works for horror and comedy.


Our hero Shaun (Simon Pegg) is a regular guy, doing what a regular guy does: drink, play video games, slack off and avoid commitment. Like most of us, he sleepwalks through life, and we get some funny moments early on when it looks like the zombies have taken over, but no, it's just Shaun being Shaun. When they do appear, Shaun and his mate Ed (Nick Frost) react like any of us would --- disbelief, followed by a sort of terrified glee followed by nagging dread, followed by all-out panic.

There are plenty of laughs in this section, but they're smart. Sure, it's funny when our heroes act like zombies so they can slip through the undead crowds, but really -- why has no one tried this before? And the image of Shaun using a cricket bat to fend them is obviously meant to be humorous, but have you ever held one of those things? They'd be perfect for smashing zombie skulls. The entire section that goes from Shaun's mum's house to the Winchester is a perfectly pitched, perfectly timed combo of tension and humor. You laugh, but it's a nervous laugh. You're worried about what's coming next.

And you're right to be. Once they arrive at the Winchester (and, presumably, safety) SHAUN OF THE DEAD shifts its emphasis from comedy to horror. Sure, there are still plenty of jokes and physical humor, but the stakes are much higher. When your mom is becoming a zombie and two of your friends are torn apart before your eyes, you're no longer laughing. (The moment when Shaun screams "Don't point a gun at my mum!" is pretty powerful stuff.) Thanks to SHAUN's strong writing and acting, we've come to care about these characters. We don't want this to be one of those movies where no one makes it. (i.e., the surprisingly good DAWN OF THE DEAD remake), but it's starting to look like it could be.

Even when the cavalry arrives, there's a tinge of sadness, a moment when Wright and Pegg let us know that this wasn't all just a joke, that a hell of a lot of people died while we got our zombie-fueled jollies. Shaun's old friend, Yvonne (played by Jessica Hynes, Pegg's co-star on the proto-SHAUN TV show SPACED), says ''Glad somebody made it.'' She said the same thing earlier in the movie, but this time she's talking about life and death, and gives a little sigh just before she says it. It's another fine grace note in a movie full of them, but this one isn't funny -- it's serious, and even a little sad.

The fact that SHAUN is then able to return to comedy proves just how skillfully it walks the tightrope between laughs and shudders. The final scenes, which reveal how the zombies have been integrated into society, are both very funny and -- like the zombie imitation scene earlier -- completely believable. Of course that's how it would happen. And hell, Shaun not only grows up a bit and gets the girl, he still gets to play video games with his mate, Ed.

Who would think the best horror movie of the last 10 years would have a happy ending?

Watch it: The SHAUN OF THE DEAD DVD is loaded with good stuff, including commentary tracks, video diaries, deleted scenes and, best of all, a segment where Pegg and co-writer/director Edgar Wright explain the flip chart they used to write the movie.

Trivia note: Wright and Pegg make a cameo appearance in George Romero's woefully underrated 2005 movie, LAND OF THE DEAD. (They're the zombies in the photo booth, though it's tough to tell.)

Coming tomorrow: Amazing images from a movie about witches

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: FREAKS

A week ago, I was talking movies with a co-worker, and he asked me if I'd ever seen FREAKS. The interesting thing was the way he asked -- like it was the sort of movie he'd heard about for years, but never could quite bring himself to actually watch.


Nice to see that FREAKS still packs a punch, 75 years after it arrived in theaters -- and quickly vanished from them. There's really no other movie in history like FREAKS, and it comes down to one simple fact: The costumes didn't come off when the cameras stopped rolling.


That makes watching FREAKS a unique experience, even now. It might be even stranger now, in fact, than it was back in 1933. In the 1930s, going to a carnival with a freak show was not an uncommon experience. What's more, it wasn't considered strange or wrong to pay money to stare at someone with a disability. It was considered entertainment. Now, in the 21st century, forget a live show -- it's uncomfortable just to watch a movie that simulates that, even when most (all?) of the performers have been dead for decades.

And that's why FREAKS will always be a landmark movie in the history of horror. Because here, the horror isn't what's on the surface -- the evil strongman and acrobat being gruesomely punished by their fellow circus performers. The real horror is what's lurking beneath the surface, what's going through the head of every viewer who's seen the movie since 1933: What would it be like to be born like that?

And this is where FREAKS plays its ace. The thing about the movie, and about the freaks (for lack of a better, more 21st century term) is that after the initial shock, you forget all about that initial reaction and switch to admiring them.


Take Johnny Eck (originally Echkardt) for example. Born without anything below the waist (or, for that matter, a waist), he gets around as quickly as anyone in the film, using what must be amazingly muscular arms to hop, run, climb and go wherver he needs to go. Or, for a more extreme example, take Prince Randian -- a man with no arms and no legs -- who manages to light his own cigarette on camera. Now that's impressive. (Off camera, he managed to father five children. That's even more impressive!)

But there's another level to FREAKS. In its carny-bred little heart, it's too deliciously sleazy to be just a heartwarming, "Look what they can do" Oprah movie of the week. Director Tod Browning, who spent his misspent youth living the carny life, fills the frame with off-color material every chance he can get, from the main plot (big woman seduces little man for his money) throughout the various subplots (which I'll get to in a second) right up to the deleted ending (Hercules, the evil strongman, was original castrated ). In fact, once you're over your initial shock of the actors, you'll still be shocked by how "adult" this movie manages to be.

Examples?

The villains can barely keep their hands off each other (in one memorable moment, Cleopatra opens her robe and asks Hercules "How do you like them?" -- allegedly talking about some eggs she's cooking, but we know what she's really referring to.) Even the movie's good girl, played by lovely Leila Hyams, wears some of the shortest shorts of the 20th century and has a conversation with nice guy Wallace Ford while he's apparently nude in a bathtube. (He's not, but we don't learn that until the scene is over).

And then there's what audiences came to see, even if they didn't admit it: The sex lives of the freaks themselves. (Just check out the poster at the top of this article -- "The Story of the Love Life of the Sideshow.") Josephine Joseph, the half-man/half-woman is the butt of much joking and speculation, but we actually see one of the Siamese twins swoon in ecstasy as her sister gets kissed. And then there's the what obviously happened about nine months ago between the bearded lady and human skeleton. That unseen moment of passion results in one of the more touching scenes in the movie. When she gives birth, the freaks gather to congratulate her. It's a sharp contrast to the darker times when the freaks would gather -- at the wedding banquet and, of course, at the shocking ending.


It's those two scenes that really stay with you after watching FREAKS. The wedding banquet follows the marriage of big Cleopatra and little Hans. His friends gather and get more rowdy as they get more drunk. In what they intend to be a gesture of acceptance, a loving cup full of liquor is passed around as they chant "Gooble gobble, gooble gobble, we accept you, one of us." (Inspiring the Ramones "Gabba gabba hey" four decades later.) Cleopatra is sickened, throws the liquor in Angelo Rossitto's stunned face and, in a chilling moment, screams "Dirty...slimy...FREAKS!" Obviously, things are not going to end well.

Which brings us to the big finale. It's here that FREAKS makes another switch, from good natured melodrama to all-out horror film. By all accounts, Browning respected his unusual cast, but he wasn't above exploiting them for a shocking finale. (And, to be honest, most of the cast made their livings exploiting themselves.) Because, when the freaks finally take revenge on Cleopatra and Hercules, they're meant to be terrifying -- mostly because they're different from us.



Browning makes the most of the low-angle, shadowy shots of the freaks lurking in the mud, clutching their weapons, preparing to do something terrible to the evil normals. We're with them 100 percent, of course, but they've become the monsters we were promised on the posters. Heroic monsters, but monsters nonetheless. The scenes are shot for maximum visceral impact -- they're meant to scare us, character identification and story logic be damned. (Really, what is Prince Randian going to do with that knife in his teeth?)

Browning's gambit works. This isn't just the scariest scene in the movie, it's one of the scariest in all of 1930s horror. And, like all the scenes in FREAKS, whether they're funny, touching or scandalous, it gets its power -- its real power -- from our knowledge that when Browning yells "cut" and the cameras stop rolling, those costumes aren't coming off.

Watch it: The FREAKS DVD from Warner Bros. is a loaded package, with commentary from Browning biographer David J. Skal, a making-of feature and the prologue added for reissues.

Trivia note: Near the end of his failed sojourn to Hollywood. F. Scott Fitzgerald encountered some of the cast of FREAKS in the MGM commissary -- and threw up.

Coming tomorrow: The best horror movie of the last 10 years.

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: ROSEMARY'S BABY

ROSEMARY'S BABY is often grouped with that other "devil movie," THE EXORCIST, but truth is, they couldn't be more different.

While William Friedkin virtually beats you into being frightened, Roman Polanski takes the opposite approach in ROSEMARY'S BABY. Most of the film is all subtle suggestions, veiled threats and friendly old people who, really, couldn't be any nicer. It was a master stroke to cast actors like Ruth Gordon, Sidney Blackmer and Ralph Bellamy as members of the secret Satanist cabal. They're so warm and endearing that they're able to worm their way into the lives of Rosemary (Mia Farrow) and Guy (John Cassavetes). Trouble is, Guy (who seems pretty friendly himself) is more than willing to buy into the bargain they've made -- even if it means selling out his trusting wife to, well, let's be blunt: He lets her get raped by the devil.

That's the one true horror scene in the movie, and it's a stunner. For once, a cinema dream actually feels like a dream, with skewed logic, disconnected visions and that oppressive feeling of dread. The Kennedy cameo makes an eerie connection to Catholicism, and the references to Rosemary's dear friend Hutch (played by Maurice "Dr. Zaius" Evans, another avuncular old actor) is a bit of ominous foreshadowing. The big moment -- in fact, one of the most chilling moments in any horror movie -- comes when Rosemary utters the awful, knowing line "This is no dream! This is really happening!" She's right, of course, no matter how much Guy tries to cheerfully claim the next morning that it was his fingernails that dug those scratches deep into her back.


As Rosemary's pregnancy continues, things get more desperate (it's amazing how unhealthy Mia Farrow looks), but the movie keeps dangling the possibility that someone will step in and save the day. First, Rosemary's friends -- her young friends -- are shocked by her appearance and recommend a similarly young, trustworthy OB-GYN (played, oddly enough, by Charles Grodin). But, just as it seems Rosemary finally has an ally, he betrays her to the doctor with the Satanist seal of approval, nice old Ralph Bellamy. I've heard women say this is one of the most chilling scenes in the movie. Having your doctor betray you might not be as bad as forced sex with Satan, but it's a close second.

Through all of this, there's never really an overt threat of bodily harm. It's just that events get out of Rosemary's control, and she can't do anything but gradually play into the hands of the Satanists. Even in the end, after the unblessed event, Rosemary realizes that, son of Satan or not, she's the boy's mother, and comforts him as the film ends. It's a scene that manages to be both heartwarming and heartstopping, thanks to Polanski's masterstroke -- WE NEVER SEE THE BABY. If this were THE EXORCIST, we would've witnessed the baby float out of the crib, fly around the room and vomit on Ralph Bellamy. But here, it's all left up to our imagination -- which, as any horror fan will tell you -- is much, much more frightening.

All in all, ROSEMARY'S BABY is a much bleaker film than THE EXORCIST. Remember, after all, that THE EXORCIST is named after the hero of the story. ROSEMARY'S BABY, on the other hand, is named after the Son of the Devil, the newborn babe whose birthday marks the beginning of "Year Zero" (what brilliantly unsettling shorthand used by Roman Castavet) and a new -- and dark -- era for humanity. There's no exorcist standing outside the Dakota Apartments in this movie. In fact, there's no evidence the forces of good have any idea what's going on -- if they exist at all.

Watch it: The DVD has retrospective interviews and a making of featurette. Not the greatest collection of extras -- I would've liked to have seen the deleted scenes that were apparently shot -- but the print is nice, and that's what counts here.

Trivia note: Schlock producer William Castle (who produced this movie, too) has a cameo as a man outside Rosemary's phone booth.

Coming tomorrow: One of us, one of us.

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: THE BRAIN THAT WOULDN'T DIE

Even if you've never seen THE BRAIN THAT WOULDN'T DIE, you've probably seen its most famous image -- a woman's head, wrapped in bandages, sitting in a pan. It's a ridiculous vision, just like the movie itself, and while it's definitely amusing in an oddball, low-budget way, it's not scary. Not at all. Neither is the movie. Well, most of it, anyway.

There is one scene that somehow, against all odds, manages to be, if not exactly scary, then definitely unsettling. It's only a single scene, but if you can forget all the asinine footage surrounding it, those few minutes are pretty damned creepy. It's a tantalizing glimpse at the sleazy masterpiece THE BRAIN THAT WOULDN'T DIE could have been, with a little more guts and a little less good taste.

Here's the setup: After a car accident, Dr. Bill Cortner keeps his girlfriend Jan's head alive in a pan while he searches for a body to replace the one she lost. When Bill leaves the lab on his quest for female flesh, that's where the movie gets interesting. He stops by a dark, low-rent dance hall filled with what look to be actual drunken patrons and carefully watches the downmarket dancers' bods, obviously trying to pick the proper one to decapitate and stick his wife's head on.

What makes the scene work is how stark it is. Long stretches of it are silent except for the sleazy background music, and director Joseph Green frequently cuts to other bar patrons, adding to the queasy verisimilitude of the scene. Even the cuts back to Jan's head don't break the mood, because this is early in the film, before she starts barking out insults. Now all she can do it wearily say "Let me die." That's not exactly what you'd call comic relief.

There are some jokes in this segment, but they're dark ones indeed. During a backstage seduction scene, a blonde tramp asks "After you're done looking, then what?" The good doctor replies, "I operate." There's a dark double meaning there, but blondie is too drunk, dumb or desperate to catch it. Then, while she swoons and says "I'm good for you -- I'm good for what you want," the doc runs his hand around her neck, sizing her up. Luckily for her, a brunette dancer with a drag queen look enters the room, they argue, and doc leaves, annoyed.

Then, of course, the scene switches to catfight mode -- complete with a final shot of cat decorations on the dressing room wall, in case we didn't get the point. THE BRAIN THAT WOULDN'T DIE is that sort of movie.

It's also crude, clumsy and obviously made with zero artistic intent, but for that one scene, THE BRAIN THAT WOULDN'T DIE is a movie worth watching -- and not just for the laughs.

Watch it: This is another one that's easy to find on DVD. There's even a MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 3000 disc that has the MST3k version on one side, and an uncut, non-MST3K version on the other.

Trivia note: One of the amateur photogs in a later (but still sleazy) scene involving a scantily dressed model is Sammy Petrillo, whose entire career was based on imitating Jerry Lewis. (He also co-starred in the movie BELA LUGOSI MEETS A BROOKLYN GORILLA, which will definitely not be showing up on this list.)

Coming tomorrow: He has his father's eyes!

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: THE BLACK CAT

I love THE BLACK CAT. It's not just one of my favorite horror movies of all time, it's one of my favorite movies, period.

It's such an odd little movie, full of quirky touches and wonderful moments that reveal the guiding hand of its director, Edgar G. Ulmer. Released during the 1930s horror boom, by the top horror studio (Universal) and during the last year before the Production Code crackdown, it's the sort of movie that couldn't have been made a year earlier or a year later. Heck, it's amazing it was ever made at all. So, instead of dryly recapping the plot or rambling on about its signficance, I'm just going to list all the things I love about THE BLACK CAT. It's a long list, but relax -- there are plenty of pictures. Consider it a cheerful antidote to the horrible bleakness of yesterday's movie, THE KILLING OF AMERICA.

(Not that THE BLACK CAT isn't dark, mind you. The plot involves mass graves, necrophilia, Satanism and at least one character being skinned alive. But it's fun -- trust me.)

And now, 21 reasons to love THE BLACK CAT:

1. It begins with the Universal logo with the plane circling the globe, the greatest studio logo in motion picture history. (RKO's radio tower is a close second.)

2. It also has a note that the movie was produced via "Noiseless Western Electric Recording." I'm a sucker for early movie nostalgia. I also like the Warner Bros. films that have the "Vitaphone" logo. Harkens back to a more exciting time.

3. And speaking of more exciting times, the whole story starts on a train, with a shot of guys at night loading food into the dining car. I realize this has nothing to do with horror (and barely anything to do with movies), but the idea of traveling on a train, especially at night and especially in a storm, is just so evocative. Seems to me to be the perfect way to set up a weird story like this. Train travel holds all sort of mysterious promise. (And no, I've never traveled on a train at night in a storm. Some day, though... some day.)


4. Bela Lugosi plays the hero. That alone is worth watching the movie for. The fact that he plays a multi-layered conflicted hero -- and plays it well -- is a bonus. He has a great moment early on when he's explaining to two American newlyweds (David Manners and Jacqueline Wells) about the horrifying prison where he spent the years after World War I: "Many man have gone there. Few have returned. I have returned. After 15 years, I have returned." It skirts the edge of corn, but Lugosi delivers the line with such conviction you can't help but buy it.

5. I really like the bus with the roll-down plastic windows. Like the train and the Universal logo, it's something you don't see anymore.


6. We're introduced to the central set of the movie -- an amazing Bauhaus-style mansion designed and inhabited by Boris Karloff's character -- through an impressive tracking shot that slowly moves through the home's darkened interior, leading to the moment when Karloff's servant answers the door and we reunite with our three travelers. It's an exciting, unexpected touch. And I can't stress enough how much that mansion adds to the movie. Having the action take place not in a spooky old castle but in a sleek, modern home creates a whole new level of strangeness. Plus, let's be honest -- it looks great.

7. Karloff's first appearance is just as dramatic. After the visitors are taken in, we see him sit up in bed (a bed he shares with his wife, incidentally -- something you wouldn't see a year later under the Production Code) in a bold, angular silhouette.

8. Like a Frank Lloyd Wright house, every element is exactingly designed. For example, check out the striking radio Karloff is adjusting for Manners . I'd like to have one like that myself.

9. While Manners embraces Wells in the background, Karloff tightly grasps a statue of a nude woman in the foreground. Not the sort of thing you usually see in a 1930s horror film.

10. Lugosi's line, "Superstitious? Perhaps. Baloney? Perhaps not." ranks with the best things ever said in a movie.

11. THE BLACK CAT is filled with striking shots like this one. The fact that you can see the actress breathing (she's supposed to be dead, like all the wives Karloff keeps suspended in glass cases) somehow makes it even creepier.

12. As with the radio, I really like this art deco clock sitting at Manners' bedside.

13. One of the movie's best scenes has Lugosi and Karloff standing in front of the glass case that holds Lugosi's wife (and Karloff's too, though Lugosi doesn't know that yet). Dwarfed by the giant charts for the cannons that were under Karloff's house, they're both overcome with grief. Lugosi even sheds a tear during the scene -- I kid you not.

14. Mirroring the tracking shot through the house earlier, Karloff's and Lugosi's return from the underground to the house is done via another tracking show with Karloff's dialogue to Lugosi serving as narration.

15. The idea that, after all the chaos of the evening, Karloff relaxes for a few minutes by reading the "Rites of Lucifer" in bed before getting some shut eye, is , to quote Cole Porter, too marvelous for words.

16. The next day, when things are really tense -- Manners and Wells are desperately trying to leave when, unbeknownst to them, Karloff and Lugosi are playing chess for their lives -- comic relief arrives in the form of two cops who argue about whose hometown makes the finer tourist destination. Normally I can't stand comic relief in old horror movies, but here, it's just one more oddball element added to the pile.

17. Karloff's line, "Even the phone is dead" is another great one. It's no "Baloney? Perhaps not," but it's still pretty funny.

18. The film's climactic Satanic mass, though reportedly toned down (way down) from Ulmer's original concept, is still a masterful mix of set design and ominous-sounding mumbo jumbo. I especially like the shots of the decadent attendees slipping the black robes over their tuxes and gowns.

19. How many movies do you know that end with the hero skinning the villain alive? This one does. And then, the idiot normal guy, Manners, shoots Lugosi by accident. Not since FREAKS (1932) has a movie so completely sided with the misfits.

20. And, as the loving couple safely returns to normal society via train (everyone else in the cast being dead at this point), the film closes by tying up a plot we never cared about (Manners' character is a struggling author) with a joke that's not funny (a newspaper critic says he should "confine himself to the possible instead of letting his melodramatic imagination run away with him.") Manners and Wells stare at each other, music swells, credits roll. They should end more movies like this today.

21. To close things out, we get another shot of the Universal plane and a cast list with that great old line at the top, "A good cast is worth repeating..." Perfect.

That's my list, and I'll even toss in a bonus item: I used to be frustrated by the fact that, thanks to Lugosi's accents, 1934 recording technology (not as "Noiseless" as we were led to believe) and the foreign pronunciations, I could barely decipher the lead characters' names. But now, I kind of like it. Makes the whole movie even more mysterious.

Watch it: THE BLACK CAT was included on the 2005 BELA LUGOSI COLLECTION DVD. There are no extras to speak of, but the two-sided disc includes five movies (!) in all. Besides THE BLACK CAT you also get MURDERS IN THE RUE MORGUE, THE RAVEN, THE INVISIBLE RAY and BLACK FRIDAY.

Trivia note: Believe it or not, this strange little film was Universal's biggest hit of the year.


Coming tomorrow: What to do with a head in a pan?

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: THE KILLING OF AMERICA

Let's talk about scary. Real scary. Or, to put it another way, scary real.


THE KILLING OF AMERICA, as the subtle, understated title implies, is about violence in the United States. Released in 1982 -- but, tellingly, not released in America -- the documentary charts famous and infamous crimes over the past few decades. They range from random convenience store shootings to the mass killings at Jonestown. It's an intense viewing experience, but it's grimly fascinating, too. Tough to watch, but tougher to look away.

Even now, when Court TV and other cable channels are filled with this sort of thing during sweeps weeks, THE KILLING OF AMERICA retains a crude power. The film starts with the big historical shootings -- JFK, MLK, RFK and Wallace -- then segues into the chaos of the Vietnam era. There's some amazing footage of the confrontation between hardhats and protestors in New York, then the traditional shout out to my alma mater, Kent State. But all that's just prelude to the major part of the film, where the central argument is stated and re-stated: The 1970s were more awful than you can imagine.

Forget macrama, disco, bell bottoms and station wagons. Forget Watergate, gas lines and inflation, too. The Me Decade was a century's worth of violent craziness stuffed into ten years.



We meet usual suspects Charles Manson, David Berkowitz and Jim Jones (who, giving a tour of the Jonestown supply hut, displays a case of Kool Aid and Fla-Vor-Aid). We also meet Brenda Spencer, the young woman who shot up a schoolyard in 1979 because, as she said, "Mondays are always so boring." (Thus inspiring the Boomtown Rats song, "I Don't like Mondays.") We meet James R. Hoskins, a cheerful guy who seems reasonable until he holds up the gun he used to take over a Cincinnati TV station and we realize how desperate the situation is. We meet a lot of very frightening people.

For me, the strangest segment, the one that summed up the way the film depicts a nation gone mad, focused on Richard Hall, who was taken hostage in 1977. For three days, he was marched through the streets of Indianapolis with a wire around his neck attached to the shotgun his abductor was holding. Turns out the gunman was a bartender irate that Hall turned down his loan. The ordeal went on for so long that there's a ton of news footage, much of it included here -- and I've never seen anything like it. It's unbelievable. Surprisingly, unlike most of the stories in THE KILLING OF AMERICA, the incident ended with no one dying -- but with the gunman committed.

There's more -- a lot more. Probably too much more. The movie even ends on a nasty, kick-in-the-teeth note, the equivalent of Jason coming to life one more time in some FRIDAY THE 13TH sequel. After finishing with footage of a vigil in Central Park for John Lennon, the narrator grimly informs us that "Two people were shot at this Central Park vigil" and, for the coup de grace, "While you watched this movie, five more of us were murdered." Is it true? Who knows. But it's scary, that's for sure.

Watch it: THE KILLING OF AMERICA has never been released in America in any form, but you can find copies on the Internet via various gray market dealers. Try eBay.

Trivia note: The film was co-written by Leonard Schrader, brother of Paul Schrader, who, with his screenplay for TAXI DRIVER, inadvertantly contributed to the scenes early in this film showing John Hinckley's shooting of President Ronald Reagan.

Coming tomorrow: Something make believe, thankfully. Something with Boris Karloff. And heck, let's throw in Bela Lugosi, too.

Buy my comics, make me rich: CATWOMAN #72

Hitting the shelves Wednesday is CATWOMAN #72, which kicks off the "Crime Pays" storyline and brings some big changes to Selina's off-kilter life.

There's been some speculation about this issue on the Interweb, and all I can say, is give it a read before you make your mind up about it. Not everything you read online is 100 percent accurate, you know. Still, the attention is always nice.

By the way, there's a new interview with yours truly over at Sequential Tart, where I talk about CATWOMAN, AMAZONS ATTACK and, believe it or not, Groucho Marx. And if you'd like to hear -- yes, actually hear -- my thoughts on DVDs, check out my gig as part of the new magazine-format AROUND COMICS podcast. New episodes go are posted on Mondays. (You should also check out the roundtable format eps that go up on Thursdays. I'm not on them, but they're a good listen anyway.)

And, as always, if you've got any CATWOMAN comments or questions, bring 'em over here. I'd like to hear 'em.

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: DRACULA VS. FRANKENSTEIN

DRACULA VS. FRANKENSTEIN, a 1971 movie directed by schlockmeister Al Adamson, has all the earmarks of typical Adamson movie.

First, you've got a catchy title. So catchy, in fact, that's it's amazing no one else -- say, a real studio -- had used it before. (The film was also released, at various times, under these names: BLOOD OF FRANKENSTEIN, SATAN'S BLOODY FREAKS, TEENAGE DRACULA, THE BLOOD SEEKERS and THE REVENGE OF DRACULA. Catchy one and all, but what else would you expect from the man whose other movies included HORROR OF THE BLOOD MONSTERS, SATAN'S SADISTS, GIRLS FOR RENT and -- my personal favorite -- BLAZING STEWARDESSES?

Then you've got a cast of no-names spiced up with at least one (way) past their prime Hollywood talent. For example, the aforementioned BLAZING STEWARDESSES included Yvonne DeCarlo (film noir and THE MUNSTERS) and SATAN'S SADISTS had Russ Tamblyn (WEST SIDE STORY). DRACULA VS. FRANKENSTEIN not only starred Tamblyn and Lon Chaney Jr., it also featured Angelo Rossitto, the 2'11' actor whose film career stretched all the way from FREAKS to MAD MAX BEYOND THUNDERDOME. ("Who run Bartertown? Masterblaster run Bartertown.")

Finally, you've got a plot that barely makes sense -- or, frankly, even tries to. Yes, DRACULA VS. FRANKENSTEIN is nominally concerned with Dracula persuading the last member of the Frankenstein family to revive the monster yet again, but it takes frequent breaks to follow a subplot involving a showgirl searching for her missing sister and that showgirl falling in love with a private detective. There's also some business about a returning comet, Dracula's laser beam-shooting ring and, of course, an impromptu acid trip. (The sixties had just ended, after all.) Oh, and there are innumerable scenes that take place on a beach.

That's all of the plot I could piece together (thanks to David Konow's very entertaining book "Schlock-O-Rama: The Films of Al Adamson"), and frankly, I'm not sure how it ends. That's because I've never actually seen the whole movie -- which brings me to my deep, dark confession.

Here goes...

Of all the horror movies I've seen, of all the nasty, bloody, gory, disturbing endurance tests, from THE SHINING to THE HAUNTING, from LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT to LAST HOUSE ON DEAD END STREET, from DAWN OF THE DEAD to CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST, none of them -- not one -- scared me as much as DRACULA VS. FRANKENSTEIN.

I'm not kidding. Sure, I was just a kid, but that's no excuse. This movie is terrible, people. It couldn't generate a spooky mood if Adamson's life had depended on it. But twice when I was a pre-teen, I stumbed across this movie on my favorite Cleveland late-night movie show, and twice I had to turn it off before long. Once it gave me nightmares (can't think of another movie that ever did that) and once, when I was over a friend's house, I slyly convinced him we should watch "The Tonight Show" instead of this little frightfest. (Naturally, I couldn't admit why I really wanted to change the channel.) Boy, was I relieved when we switched over to Johnny's monologue.

You know what? I'm still not sure why the movie scared the crap out of me. Couldn't be the effects, which even to a kid were pretty far from "special" and even farther from "convincing." Plus, both times I watched it, DRACULA VS. FRANKENSTEIN was being shown on network TV. It's not like any gore was actually going to be aired. No, it was the general mood of the movie, which was ominous and foreboding. Even if nothing actually scary was going to show up, the opening credits -- shown over some creepy old supernatural images -- made me damned sure there was something on the way that I didn't want to see. So I made damned sure I didn't look.

I was going to go the extra mile for you readers and actually rent DRACULA VS. FRANKENSTEIN so I could watch it and deliver a full report, but I couldn't find a copy at my local video store. And you know what? I prefer it this way. Not that I think I'd still be scared -- just the opposite, in fact. I have little doubt that to my jaded, 40-year-old eyes, DRACULA VS. FRANKENSEIN would go from being the movie that scared me to just another slice of no-budget '70s schlock.

But that's not what I want. I've seen so many horror movies that didn't have the desired effect -- i.e., terrifying me -- that I'd hate to ruin the impact of the one that did.

Watch it: The DVD is apparently out of print, but seems to turn up on Amazon Marketplace and eBay now and then. Keep your eyes peeled.

Trivia note: The actor who played Dracula wasn't really named Zandor Vorkov. Adamson thought his real name, Roger Engel, was a little too mundane and came up with the more exotic monicker. (Told you Adamson was good with names!)

Coming tomorrow: To avoid fainting, keep repeating, it's only real life, it's only real life...

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: THE THING

John Carpenter's THE THING is a great horror movie. Not only is it superior to the 1951 original, it's also the best work on Carpenter's resume.

(I hear you, HALLOWEEN fans, but I've always thought that HALLOWEEN, though a fine film, is overrated. It's a little too sloppy to be great, and most of its supposedly groundbreaking elements were done years earlier -- and in a holiday setting! -- in Bob Clark's BLACK CHRISTMAS. Great music, though.)

THE THING has all the elements: remote location, mysterious danger, strong cast, gruesome special effects, constantly increasing tension and even the sort of well-rounded, vaguely military group of men united against a common foe that Howard Hawks (rumored to be the real director of the original THING) used in his movies. The difference here is that the foe breaks up all that camaraderie by slipping into the group and, by the end, they're really no match for it -- or their own paranoia.

From its opening moments to its final shot, THE THING is a textbook in how to make a modern horror movie. It's lean, it's mean and it's consistently surprising. The special effects may look a bit dated now, but that's because every movie horror released since has tried to rip them off. Truth is, they're still the gold standard when it comes to twisted alien grue. And, in case you're wondering, they look a million times better than anything CGI could accomplish. Those twisted bodies and blood-covered imitations look solid. They may be fake, but they really exist and aren't just a collection of ones and zeroes added in post. Believe me, that counts for a lot.

Making all that gore work emotionally is a near-perfect cast, bringing just the right mix of tough-guy bravado and nagging suspicion. Kurt Russell is excellent, of course, but so is Keith David (with surprisingly few lines, considering how well known his voice has become), Richard Masur, Richard Dysart, and Joel Polis (playing a guy named Fuchs -- in tribute to Russell's 1980 classic, USED CARS?). But you know who's really good in the movie, both as a cool-headed thinker, a wildly paranoid nut and something a lot worse?

Wilford Brimley, that's who. Forget the oatmeal commercials and COCOON jokes. In this movie, minus his trademark moustache and folksy demeanor, he's damn near unrecognizable -- and damned good. And what's more, when he shows up unexpectedly in the third act, he's something else, too. He's damned scary.

Scary. Wilford Brimley. Imagine that. But that's the sort of movie THE THING is -- full of surprises.

Watch it: THE THING is available on a fine DVD from Universal with lots of extras, including commentary from Carpenter and Russell, a good making-of documentary and plenty of behind-the-scenes material.

Trivia note: The footage of the Norwegian scientists finding the saucer is actually from the 1951 movie.

Coming tomorrow: An embarrassing confession about a very bad movie.

Colbert? In the Times?

That's right. On a dare, he's writing Maureen Dowd's column. Here's the link. My favorite bit is in the intro:

"Before I get started, I have to take care of one other bit of business: Bad things are happening in countries you shouldn’t have to think about. It’s all George Bush’s fault, the vice president is Satan, and God is gay."

"There. Now I’ve written Frank Rich’s column too. "

Now that's funny. And hell, I like Frank Rich.

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: MANIAC

This ... this is one strange movie. I know I say that a lot, but this time, believe me. I'm not kidding.

The plot alone is enough to set it apart -- far apart -- from even other forgotten exploitation/horror films of the era. Mad scientist Dr. Mierschultz, who lives in a rundown suburb of L.A. despite apparently discovering a way to revive the dead, continues his experiments with the help of Don Maxwell, a failed actor. One night, after they sneak into a morgue and bring a (beautiful female) corpse back to life, Mierschultz decides to take things one step further and put a beating heart he keeps in a jar into a body. With no other corpses handy, Mierschultz hands Maxwell a gun and asks him to shoot himself, saying he'll use the heart to bring him back to life right away.

Maxwell, being no fool, shoots Mierschultz instead. Then, for no apparent reason except insanity and plot contrivance, Maxwell disguises himself as the late Dr. Mierschultz and assumes his identity. When a woman comes in with her husband, Maxwell treat him with "super-adrenaline," driving him right over the bend. He rants and raves (in one of the movie's most memorable scenes), then grabs the revived corpse and runs off.

Suddenly realizing someone's bound to notice the body of Dr. Mierschultz lying on the lab floor, Maxwell bricks it up in the basement in one of the movie's many hamhanded nods to the workds of Edgar Allen Poe. Abruptly, in a plot twist that comes out of nowhere, we cut to Maxwell's heretofore unmentioned wife who gets news that somehow, he's coming into some money. Naturally, she tries to hook up with him but instead winds up fighting the wife of the crazy guy in Mierschultz' basement.

And then, well then the movie just sort of, well, ends. I'm not sure what happens, and I just watched it last night (for the umpteenth time.) MANIAC is so nonsensical that it's hard to remember exactly where the story winds up. And, anyway, the plot -- as bizarre as it is -- isn't the weirdest thing about this movie. In fact, it's the little bits of business having nothing to do with the plot that are the most memorable things in MANIAC.

If you look MANIAC up at the IMDB, you'll see one of the plot keywords is "catfight." I'd like to point out that's in both senses of the word. In a no-budget sleazefest like this, you expect a bit of tussling between no-name actresses. And you get it, too. But, thanks either to budget constraints, dumb luck or some obsession on director Dwain Esper's part (or all three), you get the other kind of catfights, too. The ones involving actual cats.

In fact, MANIAC is downright obsessed with cats -- much moreso than THE BLACK CAT, Universal's strange little horror epic of the same year. Besides a fight between two cats, you get a fight between a cat and a dog, a cat killing a mouse (none of these, I stress, seem faked in any way), and probably the most notorious scene in the movie:

Finding himself alone after giving that booster shot of "super-adrenaline," Maxwell goes nutty and grabs the cat that's been wandering around the lab. He presses his thumbs to the sides of its eye and -- boing -- out pops the eyeball (or a black marble, which is what it looks like when it goes flying). Holding up the eye (a real one this time, or at least a better-looking fake), Maxwell gleefully proclaims "Why, it's not unlike an oyster -- or a grape!" and pops it in his mouth. The scene isn't as disgusting as it sounds, mostly because it's so crudely done. (Esper obviously used a one-eyed cat for the eye-popping scene; it's not even the same color as the other one.) But it's definitely one of the most bizarre moments you're likely to see in an old movie -- or a new one for that matter.

But it's not the creepiest scene in the movie. That comes when a missing persons detective visits Mierschultz's neighbor. This cheery and industrious gent has come up with a nifty way to make money during the Depression. He's in "the fur business" and explains that inspiration came when he realized rats breed faster than cats. So, as he says, "Cats eat rats, and rats eat raw meat. That is, they eat the carcasses of the cats. So, the rats eat the cats, the cats eat the rats and I get the skins!" To which our impressed detective says "Why, rats eating cats! That is news!"

Creepy, right? Especially if you're a cat lover (or, for that matter, a rat lover). But here's what really puts it over the edge: Esper made this movie with virtually no budget, so it's a sure bet he didn't go to the trouble of building all those cat cages and finding all those cats just for this throwaway bit of dialogue. So that means ... well, you get the idea. It was the Depression, after all. People were starving. You did whatever you could to make a few bucks.

That should be enough to convince anyone to give this twisted masterpiece a look. If you need further incentive, keep in mind that MANIAC also includes the crazy husband pausing briefly to slip the negligee off the chest of the revived corpse, an entire scene of women having a conversation about nothing in their underwear, towels and other states of semi-undress, unrelated clips of devils from the silent film MACISTE IN HELL, several interludes where various psychoses are luridly described via title cards and one unforgettable scene where two morgue attendants (played by either drunks or lunatics) can barely get through their twisted lines without laughing like madmen.

All that in only 52 minutes. Amazing.

Watch it: There are several versions of MANIAC on DVD, but I'd spend the extra few bucks on the one from Kino Video, which also includes Esper's 1933 drug drama NARCOTIC along with audio commentary from MANIAC expert Bret Wood, script excerpts and more.

Trivia note: MANIAC's cinematographer, William Thompson, also shot Ed Wood's legendary 1959 film PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE. Now that, my friends, is a resume!

Coming tomorrow: Wilford Brimley? Scary?

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN

What’s the saddest scene in a horror movie?

The finale of KING KONG is a contender, especially in the 2005 remake when Peter Jackson and his crew milk every bit of emotion out of the big guy's fall. But I’d nominate the end of THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN, where — in the midst of all the monsters, violence, birth and death — our hero has his heart broken when he’s at his most vulnerable.

The 1931 FRANKENSTEIN is a great movie (it mops the floor with that year’s DRACULA), but compared with its 1935 sequel, it looks like a rough sketch. BRIDE is full of energy, comedy and tragedy, and all those elements come together at the movie’s end. Especially that last item.

The monster (played, of course, by Boris Karloff) returns to his maker because, as the posters proclaimed "The Monster Demands a Mate!" Dr. Frankenstein (Colin Clive) is a bit reluctant to take another stroll down that path, but his old teacher Dr. Pretorious (Ernest Thesiger) can’t wait to give the monster some female companionship (and, it’s implied, see what happens next). In a scene that tops the landmark "birth" in the first film, Frankenstein and Pretorious gather on another stormy night and jolt another corpse back to life. This time it’s a distinctly female corpse — just check out the form-fitting bandages — and played by Elsa Lanchester, who also plays Frankenstein’s real-life creator, Mary Shelley, in the film’s prologue. The creation sequence itself is a highlight of horror cinema, with stark lighting, bold camera angles and, believe it or not, wedding bells on the soundtrack when Pretorious proudly presents "The bride of Frankenstein!"

Once the bandages are off, Lanchester only has a few seconds of screen time, but her appearance — designed by Universal Studios' makeup master Jack Pierce — is so striking that she’s become a cinema icon. Director James Whale makes the most of those brief moments, with shots of Lanchester's quick, birdlike movements, making her appearance sleek and stylish -- especially in contrast to Karloff’s rough, shambling figure.

Which brings us to the saddest scene in horror movie history.

When Karloff’s monster sees the Bride, he gets a giddy smile on his face, like he can’t believe his good fortune. He’s already had one companion — the blind hermit — taken from him earlier in the movie, and he’s desperate to connect with someone — anyone — else. He takes the bride’s hand, gently strokes it, and in a heartbreaking moment, hopefully says "Friend...friend"

The bride looks down at his hand, screams and dives into the arms of her creator — and Karloff’s nemesis — Henry Frankenstein. And that does it for the monster. He rampages through the lab and grabs the handy (if illogical) lever that’ll blow the place to pieces. When Frankenstein’s wife shows up (who, if we’re being strict about things, is the real "Bride of Frankenstein"), the monster shows a bit of mercy and lets Henry flee with her. But when Praetorious tries to slip out in the confusion, the monster coldly forbids him from leaving. "No. You stay," he says, then utters one of the simplest, most memorable lines in movie history: "We belong dead."


Tears in his eyes, the monster pulls the lever and boom -- the castle gets blown to pieces, taking everyone inside with it. There have been dozens (hundreds?) of sequels, remakes and ripoffs, but I’d like to think the Frankenstein story ended here, with the monster and his bride together in eternity.

It’s a little less sad that way.

Watch it: THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN is easy to find on DVD, either by itself or as part of "Frankenstein: The Legacy Collection," which also includes the original FRANKENSTEIN, SON OF FRANKENSTEIN, HOUSE OF FRANKENSTEIN and GHOST OF FRANKENSTEIN.

Trivia note: In the movie’s credits, "The Monster’s Mate" is listed as being played by "?"

Coming tomorrow: David Lynch wishes he could make a movie this weird.

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: THE WITCHFINDER GENERAL

Here’s the thing about Vincent Price: For a horror icon, the guy’s not very scary.

Don’t get me wrong; I like him just fine. His sly wit and distinctly hammy style added something to every movie he was in, and seeing his name in the credits let you know he'd be fun to watch, even if the movie surrounding him wasn't. In "House of Wax" he's threatening; in "Laura" he's lovesick, in "His Kind of Woman" he’s laughable and in "The Last Man on Earth" he's desperate. Even in the movies where he took terrible revenge on his enemies — I’m thinking of the two "Phibes" films and "Theater of Blood" — he’s pretty funny and hell, we’re rooting for him anyway. By the end of his career, where he played the kindly scientist in "Edward Scissorhands," he was someone audiences loved rather than feared. He was on "The Brady Bunch" and "The Brady Bunch Hour," for Pete’s sake! Plus "Thriller"! How threatening could he be?

Plenty threatening, it turns out.


Lurking deep within Price's resume is the 1968 movie "The Witchfinder General." Also known as "The Conqueror Worm," it’s been one of those movies that I’d read about for years but never seen, thanks to its absence on home video. Well, it's finally on DVD and, lo and behold, I have a newfound respect for Mr. Price. Plus, now I’m a little bit scared of him.

In "The Witchfinder General," Price plays Matthew Hopkins, a ruthless manipulator who travels the countryside of 17th century Britain, accusing (and convicting) innocent folks of witchcraft to earn a few bucks ... along with other, more personal, benefits. In a country torn apart by civil war, the frightened populace is looking for something, anything, to believe in. Naturally, they choose the big guy upstairs, and Hopkins makes sure everyone knows that he knows what the big guy wants. Namely, no more witches in England. If they don't die during their "trials," they end up swinging from the end of a rope. It wasn't seen as injustice -- just the opposite, in fact. Not only was it justice, it was family entertainment. Check out the scenes of the kiddies cheerfully watching a hanging. That's the sort of family values Matthew Hopkins stood for.

The movie itself is wild and over-the-top, full of zooms, off-kilter camera angles and lots of bright red blood. Surprisingly, what's not over-the-top is Vincent Price himself. He underplays his scenes, adding a genuine sense of menace to Matthew Hopkins. He's the calm, cool center of the movie. While everyone around him is crying, screaming and begging for their lives, Hopkins stares down at them with an icy cold stare. They're almost beneath his notice ... but not quite.

The most chilling moment in the film is also one of the quietest. After supervising a test of suspected witches that involves almost drowning them, Hopkins looks down at the one who did die and smiles wistfully. "She was innocent," he says.

Now that, my friends, is scary.

Watch it: After years of being MIA on DVD, WITCHFIDER GENERAL is finally available on disc. Besides a nice, restored print, you also get a documentary about writer/director Michael Reeves and a commentary track. Pick it up!

Trivia note: According to the "Fun Fact" on the back of the DVD, Price fell off his horse on the first day of filming and director Reeves refused to see him, figuring it would piss off the actor and improve his performance. Guess it worked, eh?

Coming tomorrow: No Karloff on this list yet? Well, let's take care of that right away!

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: SH! THE OCTOPUS

Remember back in the LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS entry, when I said horror comedies are rarely scary or funny? Here's a prime example. SH! THE OCTOPUS is an almost completely forgotten 1937 film, and if you happen to watch it, you'll know why it's been forgotten. Two detectives (played by perennial Warner Bros. second bananas Hugh Herbert and Allen Jenkins) get stuck in a lighthouse with some other poor schmucks and wind up being threatened by both an octopus (played by some fake-looking tentacles) and The Octopus (some sort of master criminal).

It's a dull, convoluted would-by mystery with lots of strained attempts at comedy from our two leads. (There's a reason Hubert was usually limited to supporting roles.) Even though it's only about an hour long, I barely felt like sticking with it to the bitter end.

But, boy, am I glad I did. In the last minutes of the film, we learn the true identity of The Octopus. Turns out -- spoiler alert! -- it's the seemingly nice old lady. But it's how that secret is revealed that makes SH! THE OCTOPUS worthwhile. The woman (played Elspeth Dudgeon) laughs maniacally at the others, then yanks her wig off, and ... well, I'll let these screen grabs speak for themselves:

That sequence takes place over a few seconds with absolutely no cuts. According to the article in GUILTY PLEASURES OF THE HORROR FILM by John Soister, the effect was done via color filters on the camera lens that, when removed, let the make-up show through. (A similar trick was used a few years earlier in the Fredric March version of DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE.) At any rate, it's an amazing moment, startling and completely convincing -- mostly because it happens so quickly.

SH! THE OCTOPUS is never funny, but for a few seconds near the end, against all odds, it manages to be scary.

Watch it: SH! THE OCTOPUS might be the toughest movie on this list to see. As far as I can tell, it's never been released on home video. I caught it on Turner Classic Movies. It's not scheduled to air again anytime soon, but the TCM site does have the trailer.

Trivia note: Elspeth Dudgeon also had a role in the horror classic THE OLD DARK HOUSE, a much better take on the old "stick a bunch of quirky characters in a spooky setting and see what happens" genre.

Coming tomorrow: Vincent Price's scariest role

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: MULHOLLAND DR.

I look back on MULHOLLAND DR. as one of the best moviegoing experiences I can remember. I caught the late show some Saturday night in fall of 2001 and David Lynch's Hollywood noir completely mesmerized me. I walked out of that theater in a daze, feeling like I had just woken up from a dream. Or maybe I hadn't.

MULHOLLAND DR. is one of Lynch's best films, to be sure. It's gorgeously filmed, beautifully scored and brilliantly acted (especially by Naomi Watts, delivering one of the best movie performances of recent memory). It's funny, it's sad, it's creepy, it's suspenseful and it's damned near profound. What it's not, I'll admit, is a horror movie. But it does have one scene that scared the hell out of me.

The scene, which comes about 11 minutes into the movie, involves two extremely minor characters, Dan and Herb. (I'm not sure we even see them again). They're both eating at a diner on Sunset Blvd. named Winkie's (a location we definitely see again). Herb acts like a psychiatrist and Dan like his patient, but those roles are never spelled out, and Herb is more superior and annoyed than you'd expect a medical professional to be. In the scene, Dan describes a dream he had at that restaurant, where everything was the same except that it was sort of "half day, half night." In the dream, Dan's "scared like I can't tell you," and Herb is standing by the counter -- scared, too. Dan says the reason for the fear is a man, outside the restaurant, who Dan can see through the wall. "He's the one who's doing it," he explains. Dan alludes to the man's face and says "I hope I never see that face outside of a dream." Herb explains that, obviously, Dan came to Winkies to see if the man is really out there, and gets up to pay the bill. As Herb stands at the counter, Dan looks up at him and realizes the horrible truth. This is the dream.

Herb (not scared) takes him outside, and they slowly walk around the diner, terrified, sweaty Dan leading the way. As they head down to the dumpster area, I started to get a feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew that whatever was lurking down there was something I didn't want to see . Lynch had perfectly orchestrated the entire scene -- actors, lighting, location and (especially) sound. This all takes place, keep in mind, in the blazing L.A. sun on a completely normal street. There are no ominous shadows, no off-kilter camera angles, no threatening music on the soundtrack. But somehow, thanks to Lynch, that walk down to the dumpster is one of the scariest images I've ever seen in a movie.


There is something there, of course, something lurking behind a graffiti-covered wall, and it still sends a chill up my spine when I watch the scene. (I watched it just now, while writing this -- on a bright, sunny Tuesday morning in my own home -- and sure, enough, I felt that familiar tingle.) I wouldn't think of revealing what it is here -- watch the damn movie! -- but I will say that, in itself, it's nothing especially terrible. By thanks to Lynch's masterful leadup, it's completely terrifying.

You know that feeling of dread you get in a dream, when there's no real reason to be scared but a wave of unease comes over you? That's the feeling Lynch is somehow able to convey in this scene. I have no idea how he did it, but I'm strangely glad he did.

Watch this: MULHOLLAND DR. is available on DVD, but ad per David Lynch's wishes, there are no chapter stops. You want to watch this one, you're going to have to start from square one.

Trivia note: Composer Angelo Badalamenti plays the espresso-loving film exec. By the way, if you want to read an extremely in-depth explanation of what MULHOLLAND DR. may or may not mean, check out this article on Salon.com.

Coming tomorrow: You've probably never heard of this movie, but there's one shot in it you have to see.

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: THE EXORCIST

I know some people who are freaked out by this movie more than any other. Usually, it’s because during decades of Catholic indoctrination, they were taught that the devil is, in fact, real, and if you give him half a chance he’s going to steal your soul. Me? I believe in the devil like I believe in the Easter Bunny, and I’m not too worried about either one of them sneaking up on me in the middle of the night.

THE EXORCIST isn't like most of the other movies on this list, being neither a black-and-white classic or a low-budget exploitation film. This one's a genuine blockbuster, based on a best-selling novel, starring big-name actors and directed by 1971 Oscar winner William Friedkin. It was a sensation when it hit theaters back in 1973, and there were widespread reports of people vomiting, passing out and running out of the theaters. I can only imagine what those vomiting, collapsing, fleeing viewers would do if they were confronted with LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT (released the year before) or THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE (released the year after). Probably lose their minds, along with their lunches.

I was six when THE EXORCIST was originally released, but didn't see it for decades. Through my high school and college years, when I subjected myself to every horror film I could get my hands on, I consistently missed that one. I wasn't deliberate; it just didn't interest me. I finally caught it during the 2000 re-release of the much-hyped "Version You Never Saw." After years of hearing how this was the ne plus ultra of horror, I was a bit disappointed. Sure, I jumped a few times, and the film generates a nicely unnerving feeling of dread, but I'd seen worse. Much worse. And by worse, of course, I mean better.

I did, however, respect THE EXORCIST on a at least one level. Compared with the other horror movies of the time -- the various SCREAMS, THE SIXTH SENSE, FROM DUSK TO DAWN, THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT -- it was refreshingly simple -- and serious. No self-referential gags, no post-modern tricks, no twist endings. Director Willam Friedkin wanted to scare you, and if he couldn't do it cleverly, he'd do it brutally, beating down your defenses with painful medical procedures, spinning heads, pea soup vomit and a young girl violating herself with a crucifix.

It's not pretty, but it's effective.

Watch it: There's no shortage of EXORCIST on DVD. You can get the original, the new cut or both. And all the sequels, including both versions of THE EXORCIST: THE BEGINNING. Neither one's very good, though I'd definitely take the Schrader over the Harlin.

Trivia note: The puke? It really is pea soup. Mmmmm!

Coming tomorrow: Two minor characters, one great scene.

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: THE CALL OF CTHULHU

H.P. Lovecraft is a giant in the world of horror literature, but he's had relatively little success onscreen. Sure, Stuart Gordon's 1985 gore-comedy classic RE-ANIMATOR (coming soon on this list) is based on Lovecraft's short story, "Herbert West, Reanimator," and his follow-up, FROM BEYOND, is also a Lovecraft tale, but at the very least, the tone of the stories has been a bit altered in Gordon's films ... to put it mildly.

Lovecraft's writing is so of its time (born 1890, died 1937, famed Cthulhu mythos mostly 1925-1935) that it's a pity none of the great silent film directors brought his stories to the silver screen. His arcane text, which was meant to be read, not heard, would've worked well as intertitles. And the crude effects and hazy cinematography of the late silent era would've looked just right applied to, say, his 1926 story, "The Call of Cthulhu."


In fact, it might have looked just like this:


That's the title card of a 2005 short film produced by the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society, a group extremely devoted to you-know-who. Despite the low budget and some unfortunately dodgy special effects near the end, director Andrew Leman and the rest manage to make a film that looks eerily like something that might've been released just before the dawn of sound film.


Lovecraft's style of hinting at the horror long before revealing it works well in THE CALL OF CTHULHU, with a multiple flashback structure slowly and ominously pulling back the curtain on the nightmarish Elder God. We attend a 1908 meeting of the American Archaelogical Society, peek in on a torch-lit orgy outside New Orleans, then finally tag along on a drifting ship to the forgotten isle where Cthulhu dwells. When he finally makes his appearance at the end of the film, it's pretty impressive -- not because he's so scary, but because the stop-motion work is so lovingly handled. The society obviously put their heart and soul into this little movie, and it shows in every frame -- including the "studio" logo, which echoes the Universal logo of the early 1930s, but substitutes a dirigible for the plane (which conveys even more of a retro mood) ...

Watch it: THE CALL OF CTHULHU is available on a fine DVD that includes the movie, a fun trailer, a making-of short and some deleted footage. It also, for some reason, has intertitles in 24 languages, including Catalan, Croatian, Euskeran, Hungarian, Luxembourgish, Swedish, Turkish and Welsh. Oh, and English, too.

Trivia note: Wondering how to pronounce "Cthulhu"? Keep wondering. According to Lovecraft himself, it was "supposed to represent a fumbling human attempt to catch the phoenetics of an absolutely non-human word." You just don't have the vocal chords for it, Lovecraft says, unless, of course, you happen to be an Elder God.

Coming tomorrow: A movie about the devil -- and this might be the one you're expecting.

X-Ray Spex Movie Marathon: PSYCHO

Most would agree PSYCHO is one of the all-time greats. Alfred Hitchcock working at the top of his game, Anthony Perkins giving a career-defining performance, a story that pushed the boundaries of what was acceptable in 1960 and a shower scene that was an instant cinema landmark.

There's one scene in PSYCHO, though, that angers even the movie's die-hard fans. It's the ending, where police psychologist Dr. Richmond who strolls into the office and confidently (OK, arrogantly) explains away every bit of mystery and menace. I've read reviews wondering why Hitchcock would tack such an awkward, talky scene onto the end of such a streamlined film. Hitchcock felt just the opposite, and when actor Simon Oakland finished his performance, Hitch told him "Thank you for saving my film."

I've always liked the scene myself. For one thing, Oakland really sells it. So much of PSYCHO is repressed and restricted, held in check by the manners of 1960s society or deep, deep psychological issues. Most of the characters are holding something back, keeping something buried under the surface. But not Dr. Richmond. Here's a guy who knows what he's talking about (at least he thinks he does) and wants everyone to know it. Fans hate the scene because Richmond is so damned smug, but that's exactly why I like it. He paces the room, gestures broadly, laughs at his own jokes, brushes aside the questions everyone asks and, when he's finished (with the memorable closing line "These were crimes of passion, not profit") he lights up a cigarette like he's just had really great sex.

What really makes the scene, though, is what follows. As a cop takes a blanket to a chilly Norman Bates, we get our first glimpse of him after the film's shocking revelation. Only it's not Norman, anymore, it's Mrs. Bates. (Like Richmond said, "Norman Bates no longer exists. He only half existed to begin with. And now, the other half has taken over, probably for all time."

And it turns out Mrs. Bates is just the sort of cruel woman who would warp a nice guy like Norman in the first place. She plots to blame everything on her son, then, as a fly crawls across her hand, hopes the police are watching, because they'll see. They'll see she wouldn't even hurt a fly.

It's a chilling conclusion, made all the more disturbing by the sane, down-to-earth psychological justification that preceded it. Richmond knew everything about Norman Bates, but in the end it didn't matter. All that clear-eyed 1960 sanity couldn't compete with the madness of one sad young man.


Watch it: PSYCHO' s not exactly a hard movie to find. It's been released on DVD several times, both as part of Hitchcock collections and all by itself. Just make sure whatever version you get includes the original trailer. Featuring a guided tour of the Bates Motel from Sir Alfred himself, it's one of the funniest, most enticing trailers ever made. In fact, here's a link to an analysis of it by none other than director John Landis.

Trivia note: Recognize the cop outside the door of Norman's room? That's right -- it's none other than a young Ted Knight.

Coming tomorrow: A silent horror gem -- made in the 21st century

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS

The trouble with the vast majority of horror comedies is that they’re neither very scary nor very funny. The scares are watered down to make room for the laughs, which are watered down themselves so they don’t break the mood. But, thankfully, there’s always a movie like LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS to remind you that – in the right hands, and under the right circumstances – comedy and horror can co-exist.

I’m talking, by the way, about the original LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS, the 1960 black-and-white, no-budget Roger Corman classic. The 1986 musical is OK, but it can’t compare with the down-and-dirty brilliance of the genuine article.

I’ve written before how LITTLE SHOP was a favorite film in my neighborhood, showing up regularly on BIG CHUCK AND LITTLE JOHN, Cleveland’s venerable Friday night movie show. In his PSYCHOTRONIC ENCYCLOPEDIA OF FILM, Michael Weldon (a Cleveland native) writes how you could always tell when LITTLE SHOP was on TV because the next morning, all the kids would be yelling “Feed me!,” just like the plant in the movie. The film is only 70 minutes long, but every second of screen time is packed with amusing elements, whether it's the broken English on the signs in Gravis Mushnick's Skid Row flower show ("Lots Plants Cheap"), Seymour's medicine-obsessed mother, suave flower eater Walter Paisley (the great Dick Miller) or Seymour Krelboin himself, the guy who embodies the word "nebbish." And then, of course, there's this promising young actor who makes a brief appearance as Wilbur, Force, a masochistic dental patient...

Yes, it's Jack Nicholson, and he's the reason most people are even aware of LITTLE SHOP today. It's a shame. Not because Nicholson isn't good (he's very funny, in fact) but because he's only in one scene, and the movie has so many other wonderful elements. My favorite supporting characters, for instance, are detectives Fink and Stoolie, two Skid Row Joe Fridays (complete with deadpan DRAGNET-style narration) who have this memorable exchange:

"How's the wife, Frank?"

"Not bad, Joe."

"Glad to hear it. The kids?"
"Lost one yesterday."
"Lost one, huh? How'd that happen? "
"Playing with matches."

"Well, those're the breaks."

"I guess so."

LITTLE SHOP was filmed (in two days, according to legend) during a great era in American comedy. Black humor was in fashion, and writers like Terry Southern, Bruce Jay Friedman and Joseph Heller were plumbing the dark depths . Lenny Bruce was arguably at his peak, MAD magazine was still aimed at adults and the influence of the Beats was still being felt. On a shoestring budget and with a no-name cast, LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS somehow sums up the best of that era. It's a smart, snappy, fast-paced, jet-black comedy that still seems hip almost 50 years later.

OK, so I've established that it's funny. But, like I said, that's only half of the equation. So, is it scary? Well, no. Not really. But it does have a seedy, creepy underbelly that most comedies -- including the 1982 musical -- can't match. With its black-and-white visuals and genuine Skid Row exteriors, LITTLE SHOP resembles a bargain-priced film noir, with plenty of threat and menace lurking in the shadows. Seymour is feeding people to his plant, after all, and the movie's horror high point comes when florist Gravis Mushnick stops by his shop late at night and sees this...

Yes, that's a foot our hero is feeding to his plant, and if the special effects are a bit on the crude side (when Seymour squeezes it, what emerges looks like Ragu), they're more effective for it. This scene has a genuine edge to it, thanks to Mel Welles' horrified reaction as Mushnick and (in the creepiest touch) Seymour's off-key and unexplained rendition of "Deck the Halls." It's not exactly something to keep you up at night, but it does remind you you're looking at a genuine, no-shit horror movie.

I watched LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS all the time as a kid, and I loved its mixture of comedy and creeps. Now, that I'm all grown up and actually get most of the movie's jokes, I love it even more.

By the way, much of the credit for LITTLE SHOP's brillance belongs to Charles B. Griffith, who not only wrote the film, he also played the gunman who gets eaten and provided the unforgettable voice of the plant. Griffith died Sept. 28 at the age of 77, and movie expert Tim Lucas wrote a funny and touching tribute to him, which you can read here. I can't think of a better way to honor his memory than popping LITTLE SHOP into your DVD player and enjoying some of his best work.

Watch it: LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS is easy to find on DVD, and it's cheap too. Trouble is, just about every version I've seen looks horrible. Apparently the recent Legend Video disc is OK, and you can read a review of it here. Or, if you're too cheap to spring for even a bargain-priced disc, you can watch the whole movie on your computer right now just by clicking here. How's that for service?

Trivia note: Those Skid Row bums in the background of some exterior shots are the genuine article, circa 1960.

Coming tomorrow: I defend the most hated scene in a horror classic.

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: THE SEVENTH VICTIM

Today we leave the grim, blood-soaked world of LAST HOUSE ON DEAD END STREET and head back to the tasteful, cozy, Production Code-approved setting of THE SEVENTH VICTIM, one of the brilliant films created by producer Val Lewton in the 1940s. But just because there are no dismemberments or snuff movies in this film, don't be fooled into thinking it's a light-hearted romp. THE SEVENTH VICTIM, after all, begins with this quote: "I runne to death, and death meets me as fast, and all my pleasures are like yesterday." How cheery is it going to be?

In fact, I'd argue that, in the right light, SEVENTH VICTIM looks even bleaker than LAST HOUSE, because while you expect existential despair in a '70s gore flick, you probably don't in a Hollywood production starring an actress from PLANET OF THE APES and Beaver Cleaver's dad.

The elusive Jacqueline makes a brief (and typically enigmatic) appearance.

The movie follows naive, kind-hearted Mary (Kim Hunter, Zira in APES) as she searches for her older sister, Jacqueline (Jean Brooks) on the dark streets of Greenwich Village. Along the way, she encounters a detective (who is murdered by Jacqueline in a moment of panic), her sister's husband (Hugh Beaumont, i.e. Beaver's dad), her sister's psychiatrist/lover, a heartbroken poet (whose own lover was sent to an asylum by the aforementioned psychiatrist) and a nice old couple who run the ominously named Dante Restaurant. Every character is broken or beaten down in some way, and most of that's because of their connection to Jacqueline.

Evidence the Palladists are evil: They make the only one-armed member of the group shuffle the cards.

There's another group connected to Jacqueline, and they're the reason she's gone into hiding. The Palladists are low-key, civilized Satanists who seem nice enough but nevertheless believe in evil as the guiding force of the universe. Jacqueline joined them as part of her constant search for meaning -- any meaning -- and when she talked about them to her psychologist, they decided she had to be killed.

But, as Mary discovers early in the movie in what's still an unnerving scene, Jacqueline planned to go out on her own terms. That's why she rented a room with nothing but a chair and this...

A grim image, to be sure, and one that leads to an even grimmer ending. (And listen -- I haven't even mentioned the dying prostitute who lives next door.) But here's the great thing about Lewton's movies. Bleak or not, they had an essential human compassion about them that's rare in horror films. You genuinely care about the characters in THE SEVENTH VICTIM, and the sense of sadness that hovers over them is pretty powerful stuff. Normally, a scene like the one where the psychiatrist and the poet recite the Lord's Prayer to quietly combat the satanists would be unbearably corny, but here it has a real power, mostly because it's a rare moment of compassion and optimism in a cold, cruel world.

Watch it: Thankfully, THE SEVENTH VICTIM was released on DVD as part of Warner Bros.' excellent Val Lewton boxed set, which includes it and eight other movies. As a bonus, the VICTIM disc also has the original trailer and an hour-long documentary on Lewton. I don't think there's another DVD set I can recommend as highly as this one. If you're any sort of movie fan, it belongs in your collection.

Trivia note: Tom Conway's character -- Dr. Louis Judd -- has the same name as his character in CAT PEOPLE, which was released the year before. In that movie, though, he was a cruel, arrogant guy who tried to seduced the lead character. Then she killed him.

Coming tomorrow: Lots plants cheap!

How did I not know until just a few hours ago...

... that today marks the 50th anniversary of both this ...

... and this?


Upon further review, it looks like Oct. 4, 1957 could be the most important day in human history.

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: LAST HOUSE ON DEAD END STREET

And here's where we (briefly) leave the classy, high-gloss, somewhat quaint environs of films like KING KONG and THE DEVIL AND DANIEL WEBSTER and step into much rougher territory. Don't worry, we'll be back in old movie land soon, but these sorts of detours are inevitable in a series about horror movies. That's because, even though, as I said in the last piece, sometimes horror movies are films that explore the shadowy area between dark and light, sometimes they're something else. Sometimes, they're just plain horrifying.

Which brings us to today's feature, LAST HOUSE ON DEAD END STREET. It's probably one of the toughest movies on this list to see, and it's definitely one of the toughest to sit through. But if you’re a horror movie fan looking for the edge, tracking it down is well worth the effort.

I’d been reading about this one for years in offbeat movie books like KILLING FOR CULTURE, the new (and highly recommended) NIGHTMARE USA, and a special issue of HEADPRESS magazine, and decided I had to see it for myself. (Most of the information for this post came from those sources.) After tracking down an out-of-print region 0 copy on eBay (told you it’s tough to see), I popped it into the DVD player, sat back, and waited to be disappointed.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t. In fact, I was mesmerized.

That reaction probably says at least as much about me as it does the movie, because LAST HOUSE ON DEAD END STREET isn’t a “good” movie in any conventional sense of the world. There’s not much of a plot, the acting is amateurish and the theme is basically “don’t trust a murderous psychotic when he says he wants you to be in his movie.” Plus, this isn’t exactly the disc that'll put your new home theater system to the test. Though the DVD is “remastered,” in this case that means “made watchable.” It’s a long way from pristine, full of scratches, skips and blemishes. The sound track (already post-dubbed) is full of echoes and dead spots, and the color scheme is either faded or blown out.

But here’s the thing: All those elements that could have made LAST HOUSE just another forgotten no-budget horror flick instead made it a twisted -- very twisted -- classic. Not bad for a movie you can barely believe was ever made -- and much less released -- in the first place. (In fact, though it was filmed in 1972 under the title THE CUCKOO CLOCKS OF HELL, LAST HOUSE didn't hit theaters until the late '70s, under its current title. That name was obviously used to cash in on LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT, which was made (and -- here's the key-- released) the same year as DEAD END STREET.

LAST HOUSE ON DEAD END STREET was the creation of one guy. He starred (under the name Steven Morrison), wrote (under the name Brian Lawrence) and directed (under the name Victor Janos), but his real name was Roger Watkins, and he made this movie during the winter of 1972-73 on a college campus in Oneonta, New York, fueled by youthful anger, a twisted love of cinema and lots and lots of speed. (By his own admission, a big part of the film's miniscule budget went toward crystal meth.)

The result was a one-of-a-kind movie. There have been dozens of horror flicks with snuff film themes, and hundreds of movies about bloodthirsty psychos getting violent revenge on those who've done them wrong, but there's never been anything quite like this. LAST HOUSE is a nasty, gory, mean-spirited movie, but it's also a genuine artistic statement. You might not like watching this movie, but when it's finished, you have a pretty good idea where Roger Watkins' speed-addled mind was at during the winter of 1972-73. Needless to say, it wasn't in a very happy place.

So why watch a movie like LAST END, which features, among other things, torture, humilation, constant dread and a long, long dismemberment scene? The experience isn't pleasant, but sometimes, as a horror fan, I want to step over to the edge and look down into the abyss. It might not be your preference, and that's fine, but I don't see anything morally wrong with it. These are all actors. It's all stage blood. No one's really getting hurt here.

Really, it's only a movie. It's only a movie.

Watch it: Like I said, even though it was released on DVD a couple of years ago, those discs can be hard to find. Your best bet is eBay or Amazon Marketplace, where I’ve seen DVDs going for more than $100. Surprisingly, Netflix apparently has a copy. It’s a safe bet your local Blockbuster does not.

Trivia note: Roger Watkins found out that LAST HOUSE ON DEAD END STREET had been released when he was walking down a New York street in 1979 and a stranger came up to him and said "Holy shit! Are you in that movie, cutting people up and shit?" Turns out he'd worked on the poster for LAST END and recognized Watkins. Watkins, by the way, died in March of this year at the age of 59.

Coming tomorrow: Is that really Ward Cleaver?

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: THE DEVIL AND DANIEL WEBSTER

There’s plenty to praise in THE DEVIL AND DANIEL WEBSTER – William Dieterle’s spellbinding direction, Simon Simone’s sultry turn as a devilish temptress and the casting of H.B Warner (Jesus in KING OF KINGS) and Jane Darwell (Ma Joad in THE GRAPES OF WRATH) in key roles. But I’m going to bypass all that good stuff to focus on the best thing about the movie – Walter Huston.

Now, if Walter Huston is known at all, it’s as the father of director John Huston (and, by extension, the grandfather of Anjelica Huston). But back in the day, Walter was a major movie star and one of the best actors of the early sound era. He didn’t win an Oscar until 1948’s TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE, but he was nominated for three before then – for the subdued drama 1936 DODSWORTH, the anything-but-subdued 1942 biopic YANKEE DOODLE DANDY… and this little gem from 1941.

Here, Huston plays the Devil himself, going by the all-American name of Mr. Scratch, and boy, does he own this role. This is no fire-breathing monster with horns and a tail. Scratch is a folksy, friendly guy who just wants to give you what you want. He makes his first appearance after farmer Jabez Stone spills a sack of seed in the mud and blurts out "That's enough to make a man sell his soul to the devil -- and I would for about two cents!" Sure enough, Jabez looks down to find a pair of pennies in his hand, then looks up to see Mr. Scratch strolling into the barn, emerging from an unearthly -- but definitely not heavenly -- glow.

Smiling, Scratch gives Jabez a pile of coins and promises him seven years of good luck, handing him "our usual form" to sign. And as for payment? Scratch makes it seem like a bargain. "Why should that worry you? A soul is nothing. Can you see it? Smell it? Touch it? No." Scratch is no arm twister. He's a born salesman. And, to no one's surprise, Jabez Stone is buying.

Things go well -- frighteningly well, in fact -- and just when Jabez is reconsidering the deal, Scratch sweetens the pot with the arrival of Belle, who appears immediately after the birth of Jabez' baby in a light just like the one that brought Scratch. She's played by Simon Simone, a year before she appeared in CAT PEOPLE, and as repressed as she was in that film (which, by the way, will show up later this month), she's sexually outgoing in this one. Look at that smile -- she claims she's there to take care of the baby, but it's obvious who she's really going to be taking care of.

It's a lot of fun while it lasts, but naturally, in the end, good triumphs over evil. Succumbing to the pure-hearted influence of his wife and mom, Jabez slips out of his deal with Scratch, thanks in no small part to the peerless legal counsel of Daniel Webster (played by Edward Arnold, better known for playing the villain in various Frank Capra movies). But THE DEVIL AND DANIEL WEBSTER still manages to end on an ominous note. As Jabez, Webster and the rest sit down to a good old fashioned New Hampshire meal, Scratch pulls out his little black book, pages through potential accounts, and -- in the very last shot of the film -- realizes who his next prospect will be ...


Like NIGHT OF THE HUNTER, another movie that'll be showing up on this list, THE DEVIL AND DANIEL WEBSTER is the sort of movie that's many things -- a slice of Americana, a moral fable, an ethereal fantasy and even a bit of political propaganda (there's a whole subtext about Scratch trying to prevent the farmers from uniting). In fact, you could argue that, though it's all those things, it's not really a horror film. But I'd respond that a horror film is more than just a scary movie. It's also a movie that explores the shadowy area between the dark and the light, one that hints at powerful forces controlling the fate of us lowly humans. That's something THE DEVIL AND DANIEL WEBSTER does frighteningly well.

Watch it: Criterion released an excellent edition of the movie on DVD in 2003. The disc also includes commentary, a reading of the original short story by Alec Baldwin, comparisons between two versions of the film and an interactive essay focusing on Bernard Hermann's Oscar-winning score.

Trivia note: Thomas Mitchell -- Uncle Billy from IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE -- was originally slated to play Daniel Webster, but after filming a few scenes, he was injured in a riding accident and had to be replaced by Edward Arnold.

Coming tomorrow: The cuckoo clocks of what?

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: KING KONG

So much has been written about KING KONG that I’m not even going to try to say anything new or groundbreaking. I’m just going to offer a few personal observations about a film that's not just one of the greatest horror movies of all times, but one of the greatest movies of all time, period.

First of all, it still holds up. Sure, the dialogue is corny, the depiction of the natives is laughable and the shipboard romance is so sketchy it barely exists, but what counts in KONG is the spell the movie still manages to weave, almost 75 years after its initial release. A huge part of that, of course, is thanks to the groundbreaking special effects work of Willis O’Brien and his crew. It’s stop-motion animation, one of the crudest forms of animation known to man, and sometimes, to be honest, it looks crude. The hair on Kong is in constant motion, for one thing, visual traces of the animators’ touch. But it’s also so beautifully, lovingly done that Kong becomes a fully realized figure. In fact, it’s no exaggeration to say that he’s the most complex character in the movie. Ann Darrow screams, Carl Denham struts arounds and Jack Driscoll acts tough, but Kong is, by turns, funny, threatening, loving, curious, angry, amused, scared and scary. One of the movie’s great moments comes after Kong’s battle with the T-Rex (arguably the film’s greatest moment) as our hero flips the dead dinosaur’s jaw back and forth. There’s no real reason for it dramatically – it doesn’t advance the plot or provide any screen thrills – but it’s just the sort of thing a curious gorilla would do.

"Did you ever hear of ... Kong?"

Then there’s Skull Island, one of the most evocative locations in movie history. The movie teases you with its existence, as Denham hints at the Venture’s destination. Then, when they’re too far along to turn back, he pulls out that map of his and spills the beans – they’re going to Skull Island, a place that’s not on any map – except for the one that Denham acquired from a Norwegian skipper who learned the location from the lone survivor of a canoe “full of natives” that was blown out to sea. What sets the island apart from your average uncharted isle is the existence of an ancient wall. As Denham says “A wall...built so long ago that the people who live there have slipped back, forgotten the higher civilization that built it. That wall is as strong today as it was centuries ago. The natives keep that wall in repair." Pause. "They need it.” Robert Armstrong isn’t the greatest actor in the world, but the way he says “need” can send a chill up your spine. Then, when the skipper asks why they need a wall, Denham pauses and says the line that always got me as a kid: “Did you ever hear of …Kong?”

That was one of the clips channel 43 would always show on the commercials leading up to its annual Thanksgiving showing, and even now, decades later, when I watch the movie, I look forward to it. Partly because it takes me back to those great days of a monster-loving childhood, but also because it’s the very first time Kong’s name is uttered in the movie. Of course, I’ve heard of Kong – we all have by now – but when I watch the movie and Denham says that line, for a second I forget he’s a giant ape – or an 18-inch-tall stop-motion armature covered in rabbit fur – and soak up the mystery of what he could be. The way Denham says it, he could be anything.


After that scene, you’re primed for the arrival on Skull Island. At first, it’s a bit anticlimactic, with nothing but a weird native ceremony to offer any chills. Plus, the crew lands in broad daylight. How scary can that be? The real arrival on Skull Island comes later, when Ann is abducted and the crew returns in the middle of the night. It’s dark, it’s ominous and, best of all, the monsters are out. Even without Kong and the dinosaurs, Skull Island is eerie, thanks to the film’s breathtaking matte paintings. Peter Jackson’s remake and SKY CAPTAIN OF THE WORLD OF TOMORROW both feature versions of Skull Island rendered beautifully in computer graphics, but they lack the mystery of the original. I'd say that’s because color, no matter how fantastic or obviously imaginary, is just more real than black and white, which always has a certain dreamlike quality. The scenes on Skull Island are like some barely remembered dream, both breathtaking and nightmarish (usually at the same time.) I don’t want to get into all the overblown interpretations of KONG, but Danny Peary makes an interesting point along these lines in his book, CULT MOVIES: The character of Kong can be seen as the subconscious creation of Denham, and the entire film like a fever dream Denham has where he can pursue Ann, wreak havoc and create the sort of spectacle he desires. If you watch the film, pay attention to how Denham and Kong are almost never onscreen at the same time – and if they are, Kong is either asleep (right before they leave Skull Island) or dead (in the final scene). As Peary points out, the place isn’t called “Skull Island” for nothing.

But that’s for academics for fight over. Me? I just like watching a movie about a giant ape who was leading a perfectly happy life until he was dragged to the big city and shot down in his prime. The New York scenes in KONG replace the dreamlike setting of Skull Island with the realistic locales of (then) modern day Manhattan, and they’re thrilling in a completely different way. Seeing Kong take on the subway or drag a random woman from her bed and throw her to the street conveys just how desperate and dangerous he’s become. And the finale, with Kong atop the newly constructed Empire State Building, futilely trying to fight off the airplanes, may be the most iconic image in the history of film. That’s amazing when you consider just how strange it really is. Pretend you haven’t seen it your entire life and add up the elements: Giant ape plus blonde in an evening gown plus the tallest building in the world plus World War I surplus biplanes. If it were a painting, it would be heralded as a surreal masterpiece.

Instead, it’s just a cinematic one.

Watch it: After years of being MIA on DVD, KING KONG was finally released in 2005 on an excellent two-disc set. Besides a restored print of the movie, the set includes documentaries on both the making of the film and director Merian C. Cooper, special effects test footage, trailers, commentary and Peter Jackson’s recreation of the film’s legendary lost “spider pit” sequence. If you’re a real fan, spring for the “collector’s edition,” which includes poster reproductions and a replica of the program handed out at the Grauman’s Chinese Theater premiere on March 24, 1933. Plus, it comes in a snazzy metal case.

Trivia note: The guys in the plane that shoot poor Kong down are none other than director Merian C. Cooper and producer Ernest B. Schoedsack.

Bonus trivia note: That Skull Island wall I mentioned? It was destroyed during the “burning of Atlanta” sequence in 1939’s GONE WITH THE WIND. It's pretty easy to spot.

Coming tomorrow: A movie about the devil -- but probably not the one you're expecting.

X-Ray Spex Horror Movie Marathon: DAWN OF THE DEAD

To kick off this month-long horror fest, I’m going with George Romero’s 1978 classic. Only STAR WARS influenced my movie tastes more than this one, and that’s a close call. If I had seen DAWN in the theater, like I did STAR WARS, it might have made the top spot. (And since I would’ve been 11, it probably would’ve fried my fragile little mind, too.) Before I saw DAWN on video, sometime in the early ‘80s, I avoided most violent horror movies, worried (I guess – it’s hard to remember after spending so many years wallowing in movie gore) that I’d see some unpleasant bit of bloodletting and be, I don’t know, traumatized? It wasn’t that I had a weak stomach so much as I thought I had a weak stomach. At any rate, DAWN cured me of that little misconception. After sitting through this movie – hell, just the first fifteen minutes of this movie– I was ready for anything the comparatively bloodless FRIDAY THE 13TH and HALLOWEEN sequels had to offer. (And, of course, turns out they didn’t have much to offer at all.)

As a bonus, DAWN isn’t just bloody, it’s bloody brilliant, a damned exciting adventure/horror movie about the decline and fall of civilization. NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD is a fine film, but having seen it after this one, it comes off as a quick sketch while this is the big mural that covers an entire wall. The glimpses of newscasts we get in NIGHT (something my buddies and I, all growing up in northeastern Ohio, always enjoyed because we knew most of the places mentioned) lead to the crazed opening of DAWN, where the talk show has gone insane and chaos is overwhelming everyone. (When TV, the rock of stability, goes crazy, you know all is lost.)

Everyone remembers the mall scenes in DAWN, but before we even get there, we're treated to some of the best film making I’ve ever seen in a horror movie. To give you an idea of how intense things are, the first three chapters on the DVD are titled “Breakdown,” “Ghetto Holocaust” and “Slaughter of the Living Dead.” It’s a flawless introduction of the main characters, going from TV studio to the holocaust at the apartment to the grim secret in the basement. (Gotta burn those bodies, you know.) After all that, the comparatively calm times at the mall are a welcome relief – even though we know they won’t last.

If you've never seen it -- or only seen the remake -- catch this one soon. The remake isn't bad, but it's nothing like the real thing.

Watch it: There are plenty of versions of DAWN OF THE DEAD on DVD, but if you're a fan like me, you'll want the four-disc "Ultimate Edition" from the fine folks at Anchor Bay. It has three versions of the film (U.S. theatrical, extended version and the European cut) plus a disc of very extensive documentaries.

Trivia note: The Monroeville Mall, where most of the movie was filmed, is still in business. Be sure to patronize it the next time you’re in the greater Pittsburgh area.

Coming tomorrow: Did you ever hear of ... Kong?