MR. HALLOWEEN (2007)

On the thirtieth day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... thirty screenplays written in junior high school English class!

THE CARD:

A young Comic Book Guy, the flattest acting since Keira Knightly's chest, effects by the Spirit Superstore, sound editing by my 80s Sanyo boombox, Goku the Sheriff's Deputy, a bag full of bad teenage mustaches, and the scariest killer since my high school janitor, and Rafael was NOT scary.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Suburban kid dorks are disappearing every Halloween night and the man known as Mr. Halloween, a local creep who loves to celebrate the holiday with the scariest house on the block, is blamed. Of course, the cops do nothing and when one of the missing kid's Dad calls his congressman, he's dragged off and killed. Goddamn Republicans. We are then introduced to some chubby guy who'd rather spend the evening with another dweeb watching other crappy movies instead of making out with his passable girlfriend. The awkward pair decides to break into Mr. Halloween's pad for kooky hijinks and when they fail, Mr. H attacks with a rubber tire iron and pounds them like an epileptic Brooklyn Brawler. He ties up the dorks and turns them into living props in his haunted house attraction. The next day, fatty's girlfriend goes looking for him with some other misfit and the two take a tour of Mr. Halloween's digs. Failing to locate fatty and the dweeb, the chick and the repulsive misfit fall in love, I guess. Mr. H then stalks the girlfriend and he puts her in his dungeon along with the dweeb, but the fatty is nowhere to be seen. Poor fatty. Anyway, the local police close in on Mr. H, but they too fail to stop him, and so the girlfriend takes up the final girl call and ...

Oh wait ... there's a knock at my door.

THE FINISHER:

[DOOR OPENS]

Hey, how's it going? Good. Me? I've been better. Oh, it's nothing, just feeling a little queasy. I'm sure it will pass. Doctor? No, no need for a doctor, I just got to get to November 1st. It's the day after Halloween, when I'll finally be finished with the 31 Days of Halloween. Yeah, it's been quite a month. I've seen some great stuff, some good stuff, some meh stuff, and some absolutely awful stuff. Don't get me wrong; it's been a hell of a lot of fun and I can't wait until next year, but ... it's just ... Oh Christ, man. Christ … Oh sweet loving banjo-playing credit-card-debt-erasing peach-pie-eating Christ. I told myself I wouldn't cry...

Steady, Tremendo, take it easy...

Mr. Halloween is not a very good movie; in fact it's one of the worst I've ever seen. This is due to the fact that ... oh man … I just can't do it.

OK, how about this:

To the guy who directed Mr. Halloween:

Look, I get it. You are a horror fan and have seen a lot of horror movies. You have a camera and your cousin Bippo's microphone from the 40s. You have family and friends who once had acting aspirations and personalities. You have a lot of obvious references to unload and you want to make them into a movie. That's gives you no right to actually go out and do it!

I'm sure you thought you did your best and somewhere deep down inside, I appreciate your effort, hell I even liked the way you framed a couple of shots . You showed much enthusiasm. But what I can't excuse is 110 MINUTES of it. No way, dude. No fricking way.

Anyway, good luck with Mr. Halloween 2: Meet the Missus or whatever the hell other idea you jotted in your Mead notebook during Civics class, you doughy freak.

There, much better. Thanks.

[DOOR SLAMS]

PHASE IV (1974)

On the twenty-ninth day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... twenty-nine billion pissy solarized world-dominating Stonehenge-building ants!

THE CARD:

A vengeful ant-hater, a loopy semi-retarded farm girl, the distinct absence of Yukon Cornelius, Warren Worthington II, and the smartest ants since this guy.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Some strange cosmic event has a profound effect on the ants inhabiting the earth. They begin to display ominous signs of intelligence, build monolithic structures in the desert, and attack predators, large animals, and humans with increasing ferocity. Soon an entire town is driven out by the aggressive pests and the government responds to the threat by sending two dudes in a jeep and silo filled with Raid. One’s a grizzled grumpy scientist and the other a young etymologist who finds a way to communicate with the insects. Housing themselves in a steel structure with computers and analysis tools, the scientists try to learn everything they can about this new menace. The ants quickly learn to adapt after the researchers douse them with green gooey insect killer. Unfortunately, the goo also kills a nearby farmer, his wife, and dopey ranch hand. The only survivor, their equally dopey daughter, joins the science guys, gets angry at the bugs, and never takes her top off. The ants display more signs of intelligence including a militaristic tenacity, an expedient evolutionary cycle, and a knack for adobe architecture. The old guy gets bitten and loses a few appendages, the girl loses her mind, the young guy loses control of the situation, and the ants send an alarming message that could mean the end of mankind and a whole lotta picnics.

THE FINISHER:

Director Saul Bass is best known as a graphic artist, animator, and producer whose amazing visual work has been seen in some of the coolest title sequences in cinema including Hitchcock’s North by Northwest, Kubrick’s Spartacus, and Scorsese’s Cape Fear. But most people will probably remember Saul as the Bass in Rankin/Bass, producers of stop-motion animated holiday favorites such as Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Phase IV is the only film he ever directed which is a shame because this film is an astonishing visual piece, less a horror movie and more a contemplative, psychological, mind-bending work of science fiction. Bass captures the moody, desolate, almost hopeless atmosphere with a dreary scientific coldness. But the real star of the film is the spectacular cinematography which captures the ants’ behavior in minute macro-lensed detail. Some of this stuff is amazing to look at and could have been viewed without the framework of the plot and still remain fascinating. It’s like looking at tiny ant actors perfectly responding to Bass’ commands. Technology translated into artistry is typical Saul Bass. Sadly, there were no extras on the DVD and this film begs for a more detailed scrutiny and breakdown, especially of the specialized photography. Phase IV is definitely worth checking out, but myrmecophobics should beware!

SCARS OF DRACULA (1970)

On the twenty-eighth day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... twenty-eight massacring papier-mâché bats!

THE CARD:

Buxom English ladies, horny English cads, a church replete with corpse decor, a slumming Doctor Who, stuff burning up, a Benny Hill foil, and Christopher Lee totally phoning it in.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Count Dracula (Lee) has returned from however he was killed in the previous installment. He resides in his spooky castle and is served by a creepy Igor-type named Klove (Patrick Troughton). The villagers are sick of his aristocratic bloodsucking shtick and launch an assault on the castle and burn it to the ground. Everything is destroyed, well except for Drac himself. One night, a local man on the lam wanders the forest and stumbles upon Vlad’s abode where Klove welcomes him and Dracula offers him a glass of suspicious-looking Hawaiian punch. When one of castle’s undead chicks seduces and beds the guy, Dracula goes berserk and pimp slaps his zombie ho vamp-style. The man attempts to escape and disappears after discovering the secret of his bloodshot-eyed host. His friends, a foppish dork and his breasty girlfriend, search for their friend and they too stumble upon Dracula’s castle. They are welcomed, seduced, offered more punch, and a bed for the night. When they too discover Dracula’s secret (um, his name is Dracula, get it?), they run around the castle, find their friend in less than mint condition, and face down the King of the Vampires with a stick and an incredible amount of luck.

THE FINISHER:

Hammer Films is a British studio best known for a successful series of Gothic horror movies from the 50s until the 70s, when the company experienced a decline in audience. One of the most popular and successful franchises of the studio is their take on Dracula in movies starring Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing. These movies are unique for exciting stories, set design and atmosphere, vibrant use of color, and streaks of sadistic violence. The Hammer Dracula isn’t a tormented soul, haunted romantic loner, or tragic character tortured by bloodlust; he is a sadistic, aristocratic villain with broader goals of subjugation and seduction, especially towards women. In Scars of Dracula, Dracula is a vicious maniac who kills women in fits of rage, massacres an entire village, and tortures his servants with hot pokers. His is a classically despicable antagonist in the best spirit of boo-hiss with a mean psychological layer to boot. That said, Scars of Dracula is possibly the weakest of the Hammer Draculas. The bare plot hobbles along at a snail’s pace, the characters have no depth or real motivation, and despite spirited efforts by Troughton and Lee, there’s barely a fright to be had. The set design is dull for a Hammer production with cheap castle models and slapped-together dungeons and castle rooms. The typical Hammer lighting scheme that enhances a moody suspense is nowhere to be found. Everything about the movie looks rushed, and maybe Hammer knew that time was running out for its star franchise. But Drac would be back in Dracula A.D. 1972 which would prove to be the true stake in Hammer’s vampire heart, and leave no scars.

WRESTLEMANIAC (2006)

On the twenty-seventh day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... twenty-seven of a thousand wrestling moves!

THE CARD:

The Obvious Reference Saloon, a walking pair of boobs with hair that says stuff occasionally, a Lucha-loving Hugo, a runway model from Auschwitz, Syd Mead's instantly repulsive misogynist, Don Knotts and Tim Conway's nemesis, the most flexible Final Girl ever, a tubby battle for the ages, El Numero Uno Luchadore Chingon en El Mundo Menos Mi, and the greatest movie in the history of our sport.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

A van carrying an asshole filmmaker, a chubby cameraman, a pothead surfer, a passed-out drunk chick, and two whorish hotties treks through the wastelands of Baja Mexico. They are on their way to film a porno in Cabo San Lucas but get side-tracked and wind up in a spooky old Mexican town called “Sangre de Dios” which translates to Sugar of Ronnie James Dio. Or Blood of Christ, I forget which. The town bears a legend which fatty knows by heart: it is the rumored resting place of the greatest Mexican wrestler (ahem) of all time, El Mascarado. El M was a killer pro wrestler in the 60s who butchered his opponents with his bare hands and became an unstoppable killing machine. Hmph, stiff workers. The authorities couldn't control him, doctors couldn't cure him, and Vince McMahon was too young to sign him to the WWE where he'd be buried in the midcard and eventually kill himself with booze and drugs. So they banished him to the town of Sangre de Dios where his peace is now disturbed by these meddling pornographers. Mascarado offs them one by one and teaches them the real meaning of hardcore. And no amount of prayers or vitamins will save them. The surviving member of the group, the leggy Leyla Milani, faces the ultimate main event in which her soul will be driven to the raw, extreme limits in this nitro-fueled, thunder-clapped smackdown of heat, havoc, and T&A.

THE FINISHER:

I'd be remiss and kicked out of the Lucha Union if I didn't review at least one Mexican-wrestler themed horror movie in this year's 31 Days of Halloween, including this utter masterpiece of bone-breaking horror. Also known as El Mascarado Massacre, Wrestlemaniac is to my knowledge the world's first lucha-libre inspired slasher, and brother it's a unrelenting, pulse-pounding scarefest and possibly the best slasher in years. This movie took my complacency to the mat and pinned me down for the three-count. The laughs and scares come at you like flaming volleys from a cannon of nightmares. The cast is pitch-perfect, including Milani as the competent and extremely skilled heroine. She's more than just an awesome body and bushel of Jose Eber-fluffed hair. The script provides an insight into the rich culture of our neighbors to the south and deftly reveals psychological insights such as the plight of growing up different as exemplified by the portly wrestling fan played by the fat guy. Legendary wrestler Rey Misterio, father of WWE superstar Rey Misterio Jr., is the new horror icon El Mascarado, a looming, fearsome presence unparalled since Glen Jacobs. Director Jesse Baget could become the next big thing if he can keep making incredible, well-made, not-annoying films such as Wrestlemaniac, American horror's biggest and brightest surprise yet.

And now you see, sometimes film criticism can be faker than wrestling.

KWAIDAN (1965)

On the twenty-sixth day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... twenty-six anti-ghost Buddhist prayer tattoos!

THE CARD:

Spooky Asian ghosts that don't come out of a TV set, smug phantoms in drinking mugs, a reason to cover your ears when you come across a samurai specter, gorgeous cinematography, sumptuous set design, wonderfully horrific color, impeccable acting and pacing, and eyeballs, hair, suicide and other stuff that scares the shit out of the Japanese (and, uh, me too).

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

The film is comprised of four chilling tales set in feudal Japan:

An impoverished samurai leaves his poor wife for better opportunities in the big city. There, he hooks up with a wealthy woman and enjoys social mobility, respect, and cleaner kimonos. Time passes and the samurai finds himself missing his ex-wife and loathing his current spouse, who looks like she does her eyebrows with a magic marker. Consumed with a debilitating sense of guilt, he is haunted by visions of his ex everywhere. One night, he rejects the new wife, leaves his new life, and searches for his lost love. He finds her back at their old home and she is ecstatic to see him again, well about as ecstatic as a jilted ex with nary a pot to piss in can be, and they spend the night together. In the morning, the woman is gone and the samurai is forced to question his own sanity and confront a terrifying realization.

Next, two men are caught in a fierce blizzard and are separated. One of the men, Minokichi, finds the other frozen to death while a strange woman in white hovers about him. The deathly pale woman approaches Minokichi and threatens his life but spares him. He barely makes it home alive and faces a long period of recuperation. A year passes and things are back to normal for Minokichi. One day, he meets a lost, bewildered, but beautiful woman in the woods. He invites her back to his home, feeds her, and falls in love. They marry and have children. One night as the wind howls outside, Minokichi tells his wife Yuki about his encounter in the woods those many years ago and it eerily dawns on him that his nearly frozen fate brought them together and endangers them both.

Next, Hoichi is a blind musician and gifted storyteller whose specialty is singing songs about an ancient tragic war at sea between two clans. The battle resulted in many deaths and the spirits of the combatants still haunt the coast and forest where Hoichi lives in a monastery. One night, the ghost of a samurai appears before Hoichi and takes him to his master to sing the songs. Innocent Hoichi believes that he is singing to living people and visits them regularly. The monastery priest and Hoichi’s co-workers are concerned about his nightly disappearances and when they discover that he’s being spirited away, they tattoo prayers all over his body to ward off the potentially deadly phantoms. But these dead are restless, yearn to hear their tragic story told repeatedly, and won’t take no for an answer.

Lastly, a writer on New Year’s Eve is putting the finishing touches on his latest scary story. We see the story unfold and set in feudal Japan. A nobleman comes back home after a long campaign. He and his entourage stop to drink water at the side of the road. When the nobleman brings the cup to his lips, he sees the shocking vision of a man looking back at him. He sees the man’s face in another cup, and yet another. When he sees the man again in his fourth cup, he indignantly drinks it down. Later, the man appears in his home and swears vengeance for consuming his soul. The angry ghost torments the man while his servants start to believe that their master is going insane. One night, three men show up at his door and inform him that they represent the man in the cup and warn the nobleman that he will soon visit him for revenge. The nobleman does battle with the men and wins, but the story ends there. The writer’s publisher shows up at his home to wish him New Year’s greetings and pick up his latest story. But instead he finds a horrific scene strewn about his house and realizes that some stories are better left unfinished.

THE FINISHER:

The word kwaidan roughly translates to “ghost story” and is an old cultural term now supplanted by kowai hanashi (scary story) in the wake of J-horror movies such the The Ring franchise. The film Kwaidan is a masterfully woven anthology of ghost stories that is a gorgeous visual feast of nightmares and maybe of the best movies in cinema history. So there’s not much I can say about it that hasn’t already been said. What I’ll do is try to recommend this movie to those who think Japanese horror and story traditions end with Ju-on, (The Grudge), Chakushin Ari (One Missed Call) or Kairo (Pulse). Kwaidan is not a pulse-pounding gorefest; it is genuinely suspenseful, powerfully expressionistic, and unrelentingly eerie film. Director Masaki Kobayashi utilizes vibrant cinematography and stunning set design to present traditional tales told in Japanese theatricality, yet retains a surreal, mind-bending atmosphere. The running time is a little long, but those used to Japanese cinema knows that this is par for the course. Even when the movie is slow, there is always something wonderful to look at and get creeped out by from the lavish visuals to the impressive camerawork. Kobayashi applies a poetic treatment to these traditional morality tales, mixing realistic reactions with a fever-dream eccentricity resulting in a cinematic delight. So for those Ring-lovers and Grudge-ites, I say don’t lose patience with Kwaidan’s customary pacing and culturally unique storytelling. Do so and you will miss the roots of J-horror you so cherish and the perfect film for a chilly Halloween night or steamy O-bon's eve.

BOTCHED (2007)

On the twenty-fifth day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... twenty five flaming Russian rats!

THE CARD:

Cecil B. Detached, Hollywood Upstairs Acting College foreign accents, Doctor Who’s kid, Aragorn of Arathorn the serial killer, Dexter’s ex, and barrels of bloody borsch.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

A diamond thief with the worst luck (Stephen Dorf) steals a bunch of diamonds from some stupid rich person’s house. Unfortunately, his inattentive driver plows into a wall during the getaway and Dorf loses the stolen loot. Jason Statham would be very displeased. Dorf’s boss (Sean Pertwee) is pissed at the muck-up and punishes him by sending him to Moscow to break into an office building to steal a valuable heirloom, the golden cross of Ivan III. Dorf and two Russian goons pose as janitors and make their way relatively easy in and out of the secured area where the heirloom is kept, that is until they run into elevator problems and get stuck with a nerdy journalist, a sexy company vice president, a security guard, three ultra conservative spinsters, and some other red-shirted unnamed victims-to-be. The elevator drops down to the 13th floor of the building and the thieves take the other passengers as hostages and try to figure out what do to next. Eh, eh, 13th floor, eh? Oogey boogey! While Dorf and the main goon argue over an escape plan, someone or something is killing the hostages in gruesome and impolite manners. It turns out that the three old babushkas are actually cult members obsessed with resurrecting the old czar Ivan. So much for Perestroika. Their unseen baked ham brother is running around chopping up comrades in a Lord of the Rings get-up and then dissecting them on an altar. You know, Orthodox stuff. So Dorf teams with the hotty executive (Jaime Murray – Yum!), the nerd, and a tough as shit security guard who puts the Mother in Mother Russia. Our kooky heroes run up and down hallways, holler like kiddies in a third-rate carnival haunted house, use rodents as weapons, and fight their way to ninety minutes to get out of this mess.

THE FINISHER:

When you call your movie “Botched” you know you’re just asking for it. The makers of “Shitty”, “Sucky” and “Man, I Just Don’t Have Any Fucking Clue How to Shoot a Movie” know that lesson all too well. In fact, the makers of Botched and those movies are probably one and the same. The movie is a loud, quirky, ham-fisted effort with aspirations of being a hybrid between a black comedy and a caper film which it fails to achieve. It’s too obvious and not smart enough to be a black comedy. It wants to be a clever caper film but it lacks a clever caper. Dorf can’t look more disinterested, Pertwee is wasted, Murray stands around being nice to look at, and although the gore is plentiful, it’s rather cheap-looking. The only saving grace is Geoff Bell who plays the ex-KGB security guard with maniacal gusto. He brings inspired energy into the few comedic moments and steals a fair share of scenes. Bell aside, most of the jokes fall flat, the plot drops dead with the first kill, and the painful punch line at the end of the film will make you cry turnip-flavored tears. Although not completely unwatchable, Botched indeed lives up to its name and in the end, it’s not just Ivan who’s terrible.

NEON MANIACS (1986)

On the twenty-fourth day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... twenty four Jaded albums!

THE CARD:

The tragic slaying of the Gorton's fisherman, the Kmart brand Steve Guttenberg, a soundtrack inspired by Casio, Corey Hart, and Ramada Inn, beheaded fellatio, Sharon Stone's ex-killer squeeze, a film geek heroine, the Power Rock of Jaded, and the Village People of Movie Slashers.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

A fisherman finds some playing cards lodged in a cow skull. The cards feature gruesome ghoulish paintings of strange characters that may or may not be our title characters. Someone with a hatred of breaded fish fillets comes up behind him and gives him the axe. A scream! A shot of the San Francisco skyline! A cheesy 80s synthesizer-backed credit sequence! And we cut to Natalie, a recently jilted teen queen out on a night on the town with her doofy airhead friends in complementary stoner van. They stop at a liquor store and run into misfit Steve who's obviously in love with Natalie. They blow the dork off and head over to the park for teen nastiness. The horny teens camp out, drink, and bone each other while sad Natalie talks about her feelings with some other slut. Out of the darkness emerge the characters seen in the cards earlier: a zombie samurai, an undead cop, an electrical dude, a feral animal guy, and a one-eyed snake. Yes, a one-eyed snake. What, no trouser pilot? All the kids dies horribly except for Natalie who's saved by the cops who have missed the mayhem. The police don't believe Natalie's story because the bodies are gone. She is shunned and ridiculed at school and Steve takes full advantage of her vulnerability and asks her out. Meanwhile, a snotty girl filmmaker-wannabe catches a whiff of Natalie's story and wants to know the truth. She bothers Natalie with questions, snoops around the crime scene, and harasses big black cops. She learns that the maniacs live under the Golden Gate bridge, are unstoppable killers, and are not the most hygienic bunch of bachelors. Film geek girl teams up with schmucky Steve and Natalie to stop them, but first it's Battle of the Bands time! The final showdown with the scary neon dudes goes down at the high school Halloween concert where Steve's pussy rock band goes up against sheet metal giants Jaded. Big dude hair! Incompetent guitar and vocals! Men in makeup! JADED! And thus, the true horrific spectacle begins.

THE FINISHER:

Neon Maniacs is a horror movie revelation, and not because it's any good, makes any sense, or provides even a minute sliver of fright, but because it proves without a doubt that the 80s was the cheesiest decade in the history of man. Nah, I won't give it all that credit. I guess I'm still in shock because I'd never heard of this film until some fat sap on YouTube recommended it. And I really trusted said fat sap, until I saw this shockingly bad and belly-busting hilarious clunker of a movie. In truth, Neon Maniacs is all I expected: goofy fun wrapped in an awkward, poorly shot, nonsensical wrapper. And I ate up all its nutty goodness in under ninety minutes. That's good eatin'. At times the movie is achingly hilarious with the big hair, loud New Wave jackets, and C-3PO's cereal. The origin of the title characters goes unexplained as they ham it up like Shatner at Karaoke. Equally comical is the revelation of their only weakness: water. You could almost hear eight-year-old M. Night Shyamalan popping a boner at the sight of that. The acting is about what you'd expect, and although the maniacs' design is pretty cool in a bad amusement park mascot kind of way, there is a serious lack of gore besides a couple of appendage detachments and stabbings. Although the spirit is in fun and they went for humor instead of scares, they forget to include actual jokes. There are also shocking and nostalgic images such as the unnerving appearance of Michael Jackson murals, Alien ball caps, Star Wars references, and fat guys eating bologna and walking their dogs in bunny slippers. Maniacs has got it all. I just wish I was eleven again so I could have really loved this movie, instead of just mildly amused by it.

BONUS: FRANKENSTEIN MEETS THE WOLF MAN (1943)

THE CARD:

A less-than sober Lon Chaney Jr., the Bavarian Mae West, Franken-Bela, cranky monster-weary villagers, the great weirdo Lionel Atwill, and a Universal battle for the ages.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

Larry Talbot (Lon Chaney Jr.) is resurrected from his tomb by two snoopy grave robbers. As a result, people start disappearing and a bloodcurdling howl fills the night air. Ol’ furry eyes is back. Talbot wakes up in a hospital where a detective and a concerned doctor try to figure out who he is. They eventually track him down to Talbot’s old village and find a trail of blood leading to his miraculous reappearance. All Talbot wants to do is end his suffering and go die somewhere. Miami, maybe? So he escapes the hospital and searches Europe for the only person who could understand and help him, the old lady gypsy from the first movie. The old gypsy agrees to help him and suggest they contact a man with the secrets to the powers of death: Dr. Frankenstein. (Cue thunder and lightning). They arrive at Frankenstein’s favorite village to torment, Vasilia. There they are shunned and nearly run out of town on a rail, but just when they are on the right trail to catching up with the Doc, they discover he’s been dead for years. Talbot turns into the werewolf and is hunted down by the villagers. Later, he stumbles upon the hidden lair of the frozen monster (Bela Lugosi) and revives him, and the two form an awkward alliance. Talbot seeks out the doctor’s only living relative, the Baroness Frankenstein (silly-accented Ilona Massey) and begs for help. The monster attacks the city, and Talbot’s doctor has finally tracked him down. As the good doctor and the Baroness race against time to help both tortured souls seek peace, the townsfolk call out for their blood, setting the stage for the ultimate showdown between two of the greatest monster hams in Hollywood history. And Brother, that’s sayin’ a lot!

THE FINISHER:

Like most horror crossovers, Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man is an exciting treat for fans, and this one moves much quicker than the first Wolf Man film, and is just plain good fun. Chaney returns to the role that made him a star (maybe?) and reels in another anguished, tortured, and intense performance. Watching him made me very interested in reading his biography, given the scant knowledge I have of his alcohol-fueled downfall and sad end. Lugosi is spectacularly awful as the Monster, staggering around like a drunk guy at a Halloween party. But how can you hate that lovable bloodsucking Ed Wood-encouraging junkie? Seeing him stumble around like a third-grader zombie, I uselessly wished he would just scream out, “See, I told you I could do it better than that limey cocksucker!” By the time of this production, the original Universal monsters had probably lost their scariness, leading the way to their demise at the studio and run-ins with Abbott and Costello. But it’s got everything you’d want in an old fashioned monster movie: sci-fi doodads, a cute aristocratic chick, fat German creeps, spooky castle models, and a fast-paced adventure story.

THE WOLF MAN (1941)

On the twenty-third day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... twenty-three silver wolfman-head walking canes!

THE CARD:

Glorious black & white cinematography, a sober Lon Chaney, a wolfie-bashing Captain Renault, sizzling gypsies, a Tattooed Bela, a creepy Baskerville Hound-free forest, Mortimer Duke's bro, and a classic Universal monster.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

The Universal monster pantheon is comprised of the most horrifying first names in history: Victor, Imhotep, Vlad, and ... um ... Larry. Englishman Larry Talbot (Lon Chaney) returns home after a lengthy stay abroad and brings with him a load of guilt, a talent for fixing telescopes, and a heavy American accent. He reconciles with his estranged father (Claude Rains) and prepares to take over as caretaker of his family estate. Larry woos a local girl who works in an antique store (Evelyn Ankers), after spying on her with said telescope and creepily talks his way into asking her out. Later that night, Larry and the girl take a walk, but the girl has invited a girlfriend as a chaperon. Cockblocked! They visit a gypsy camp where the girlfriend gets her fortune read by a googly-eyed gypsy psychic (Bela Lugosi). Bela sees nothing but badness in the girl's future, so he asks her out for a bite. Bluah! Meanwhile, Larry and the girl have taken a walk in the scary woods to talk about junk and stuff. A scream breaks up the sexual tension and Larry goes to the rescue to find girlfriend being attacked by a giant wolf. Unfortunately, girlfriend doesn't survive but Larry beats down the wolf with a silver-tipped walking stick. Larry's luck worsens when he's bitten himself and the wolf later turns out to be Bela. The local constable (Ralph Bellamy) suspects that Larry is either a murderer or is going insane, or both. The were-gypsy's mother (Maria Ouspenskaya) informs Larry that he now bears the burden of a curse where he will turn into a wolf and gobble up the citizenry. The only way out of this predicament is death by silver, though Larry was probably hoping it'd be chocolate or booze. Larry doesn't believe a word but when he transforms into a snarling beast out for blood and offs a few townspeople, reality starts to set in. The constable steps up the hunt for the monster, Larry's girl stands by his side, and Larry comes to terms with his inescapable, hairy-footed fate.

THE FINISHER:

Of all the Universal monster legends, the Wolf Man has always been the most lonely, most tragic and most depressing. I mean there's nothing the innocent victim of the wolf bite can do to save himself: no fix, no cure, no salvation. He hurts, he restrains himself, but eventually he must give in and succumb to the cursed destiny that's been thrust upon him. He's the ultimate victim who not only suffers alone, but spreads his suffering to his loved ones and strangers. This 1941 original version is the literal granddaddy of werewolf movies and is considered as a classic, and it certainly deserves that status, but only to an extent. The movie is indeed morose and atmospheric and represents the best aesthetics of the Universal monster movies: stark cinematography and lighting, creepy set design and groundbreaking make-up work. The first appearance of the wolfman sent chills up and down my arm, not so much because he's scary, but because of his iconic status. But the movie lacks a riveting narrative or character psychology to make it compelling or satisfying, regardless of the outcome. The story is too simple, lags in the middle between transformations, and wraps up a little too predictably. Lon Chaney is deservedly unforgettable in the title role with his deep-set eyes and sad sack face that conveys his inner turmoil and torture, aspects that would embody the man in real life. The Wolf Man's thrust-upon destiny will remain as the film that laid out the mythos and legend for subsequent multitudes of werewolf stories and films. And for that aspect alone, it should retain is classic status.

WHO CAN KILL A CHILD? (1976)

On the twenty-second day of Halloween, my boo love gave to me ... twenty-two one-way tickets to Kiddie Killer Island!

THE CARD:

Gorgeous Spanish beaches, a Spaghetti Western That Guy, the Pueblo of the Damned, Britain's Donald Sutherland, the cutest lil' gunman, and the worst case of indigestion ever caught on film.

More details here.

THE ANGLE:

The movie opens with an agonizingly long credit sequence that details the history of child deaths during war in the 20th century. Ok, nail firmly implanted into head, Mr. Director. We open to a young British couple traveling to a Spanish resort town for a holiday. The man is a biologist and the woman is a clueless pregger. They trek to the island of Almanzora located just off the Catalan coast. But instead of welcoming Spanish villagers with jamon, paella, and mojitos at the ready, they find the place deserted and dead quiet. While exploring the town, the two see little children dart around corners and dash about the peripheries of their vision. The children giggle eerily and stare at them with horrifying fascination. The pregger meets a little girl who is fascinated by and caresses her pregnant belly. Minutes later she witnesses the girl bludgeon an old man to death. They’re definitely putting something in the milkshakes. The biologist scrambles for a reason for the disappearance of the adults and the strange behavior of the children, but instead finds dead bodies, panicking Dutch tourists, and kids playing with another old man like a piñata. As the kids’ behavior grows more bizarre and threatening, the couple struggles to find a way off the island while staving off the hordes of bloodthirsty kiddies in the mood to slash some snotty Brits, and the biologist with his newfound machine gun will discover if he can become the answer of the film's title and issue the ultimate time-out.

THE FINISHER:

Who Can Kill a Child? may sound like a kiddie killer film, but it's quite the opposite. Think of a combination of The Birds and Village of the Damned with a hint of The Wicker Man and you may be in the ballpark. Reminiscent in dark tone and eerie style of earlier reviewed film Long Weekend, this disturbing film deals with weighty subjects and themes such as the atrocities suffered by children during cataclysmic events such as the Holocaust by presenting the vision of children killers inheriting a bloodlust unframed within the caustic reasoning of war. Tension builds slowly and methodically, the children’s madness is not explained, and setting the film in the daylight with an innocuous threat such as children is particularly effective. Not so surprisingly, few horror movies set during the day succeed at bringing the fright as this film, which is a shame because more horror filmmakers should experiment with this approach. The movie also preys on fears of impending fatherhood, social isolation, and the wrenching question posed by the title: if you had to, could you kill a child? The lead actors are fine particularly dependable Australian actor Lewis Fiander as the biologist, and the cinematography is outstanding and masterfully blends the beauty of the Mediterranean sun and blue sky with the blood-drenched happenings in the town. Who Can Kill a Child? is a unnerving and well-made film, abounding with a nightmarish scenario and shocking images of killer teens and toddlers going outside, getting some fresh air, and meting out murderous ferocity and not locked in the basement playing Grand Theft Auto.