Broken Lizard's Club Dread (2004)

I know a lot of people that swear by the comedy of Broken Lizard. And man, I tried watching SUPER TROOPERS. Saw it twice so far, and while I think it's funny, I wasn't ready to proclaim them the next coming or anything. In this I know I differ with a lot of people.

I also know I'm going to differ with those same people for another reason: I loved CLUB DREAD, and find it in leaps and bounds the better film.

I think the reason it works (certainly much better than FEAST) is because, instead of taking a horror film and trying to make it funny, they took a comedy and made it horrific. And by "horrific" I mean "as scary as your typical FRIDAY THE 13TH film" which was the point, even nodding to the film in question in a hilarious boat scene.

Vacationers travelling to Pleasure Island are coming for two things: getting drunk and getting laid. And that exactly what Coconut Pete (Bill Paxton) and his staff are there to provide - it's Heaven if Heaven was run by the dude who puts out those Girls Gone Wild videos. Unfortunately, the wacky staff (played by the Broken Lizard troop) pissed somebody off with their antics, because now they're slowly being murdered one by one. Is it the crazy obsessive gymnast? The put-upon nephew of Coconut Pete? Or the new masseuse, fresh off the boat and with secrets of his own?

The movie benefits from a few things - as always the chemistry between the cast is great. Roles are reversed from the earlier SUPER TROOPERS, with director Jay Chandrasekhar this time playing the prick-ish Putnam, and scene stealer Kevin Heffernan taking the heroic lead. The majority of the comedy is character-driven, playing to everyone's advantage. And the troop brings enough great lines so that the rest of cast isn't left behind as window dressing, though they of course save the best for themselves. I will forever attempt to use the line "Who else knew he was uncircumcised, and smelled of oranges?"

As for the scares, they're firmly rooted in the slasher pics of the early 80's, but instead of playing the horror off for laughs, Chandrasekhar wisely plays them straight most of the time. The blood and gore is realistic and frightening, even when it's spurting from a man dressed as a pear:

Please, someone put together a version of Pac-Man like this NOW, please!

You really have no idea who the killer is, and there's no reason to try and guess in CLUB DREAD. The focus here is purely on the laughs; any screams or jumps are free of charge. Perfectly fun movie, and I'm convinced I have to check out SUPER TROOPERS again.

Broken Lizard's Club Dread (2004)

I know a lot of people that swear by the comedy of Broken Lizard. And man, I tried watching SUPER TROOPERS. Saw it twice so far, and while I think it's funny, I wasn't ready to proclaim them the next coming or anything. In this I know I differ with a lot of people.

I also know I'm going to differ with those same people for another reason: I loved CLUB DREAD, and find it in leaps and bounds the better film.

I think the reason it works (certainly much better than FEAST) is because, instead of taking a horror film and trying to make it funny, they took a comedy and made it horrific. And by "horrific" I mean "as scary as your typical FRIDAY THE 13TH film" which was the point, even nodding to the film in question in a hilarious boat scene.

Vacationers travelling to Pleasure Island are coming for two things: getting drunk and getting laid. And that exactly what Coconut Pete (Bill Paxton) and his staff are there to provide - it's Heaven if Heaven was run by the dude who puts out those Girls Gone Wild videos. Unfortunately, the wacky staff (played by the Broken Lizard troop) pissed somebody off with their antics, because now they're slowly being murdered one by one. Is it the crazy obsessive gymnast? The put-upon nephew of Coconut Pete? Or the new masseuse, fresh off the boat and with secrets of his own?

The movie benefits from a few things - as always the chemistry between the cast is great. Roles are reversed from the earlier SUPER TROOPERS, with director Jay Chandrasekhar this time playing the prick-ish Putnam, and scene stealer Kevin Heffernan taking the heroic lead. The majority of the comedy is character-driven, playing to everyone's advantage. And the troop brings enough great lines so that the rest of cast isn't left behind as window dressing, though they of course save the best for themselves. I will forever attempt to use the line "Who else knew he was uncircumcised, and smelled of oranges?"

As for the scares, they're firmly rooted in the slasher pics of the early 80's, but instead of playing the horror off for laughs, Chandrasekhar wisely plays them straight most of the time. The blood and gore is realistic and frightening, even when it's spurting from a man dressed as a pear:

Please, someone put together a version of Pac-Man like this NOW, please!

You really have no idea who the killer is, and there's no reason to try and guess in CLUB DREAD. The focus here is purely on the laughs; any screams or jumps are free of charge. Perfectly fun movie, and I'm convinced I have to check out SUPER TROOPERS again.

The Mask of Fu Manchu (1932)

For casual moviegoers living in a world of 200 million dollar blockbusters, IMAX 3-D theaters, entire movies animated by computers, even films from just 30 years ago may be hard to accept, let alone movies from 60 and 70 years ago. The need to suspend disbelief is greater for these films; you're not just accepting what fantastic elements may appear, you have to accept the patter of language, the play of shadow and light in the various black and white worlds the movies inhabit. Without this suspension, this willingness to allow yourself to become engrossed in the flicker of a bye gone era, you only see the scratches in the film, the painted backdrops, the zipper in the costume.

But let yourself fall into the rhythms of this celluloid world, and you see something else entirely.

I grew up with this mentality. Many of my earliest memories (outlined here in a previous post) center around watching movies with my father, who came to America when he was a child and devoured the films of Humphrey Bogart, Cary Grant, Errol Flynn. Watching those films with me was a way for him to remember one of the few joys of his childhood (growing up a German immigrant only 10 years after WWII wasn't the easiest thing to do). And maybe part of the love I have for watching older movies is the memory it brings of my own childhood, laying down with my head crooked in his elbow as we were both dazzled by what played on the television.

So it's an early Sunday morning in late October 2006. I pop in THE MASK OF FU MANCHU, curl up with the coffee I picked up at 7-11, and promptly fall back 30 years.

FU MANCHU is really more action than horror; think of it as a precursor to RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK. The British government hires a group of adventurers in a race against time to recover the lost tomb of Genghis Khan. The rush? It's also being sought by the fiendish Fu Manchu, deliciously played by Boris Karloff. Fu Manchu believes that by obtaining the relics found inside the tomb, namely the Golden Mask, he will become the reincarnation of Khan and be able to rally the Asian countries behind him in a bid for world domination.

The more I see of Boris Karloff, the more I appreciate just how brilliant an actor he was. It doesn't matter how much make-up is caked on, how bad the dialog is: once he appears on screen you are completely riveted. And his first appearance in FU MANCHU is a doozy: a close-up of him in full Asian makeup, in his lab. A distorted mirror immediately to his left twists and amplifies his face, displaying his dual nature as genius scholar and mad torturer. Both sides of his personality appear early on - upon capturing the heroine's father he reminds him that he should be addressed as "Doctor" after listing his educational background. The torture of this same man later further shows his mad brilliance: the father is strapped under a large bell that constantly chimes; when thirsty, Fu Manchu brings him water, but it's filled with salt.

And if you think Karloff is evil as Fu Manchu, wait until you see a young Myrna Loy (later to be Nora Charles in the excellent THIN MAN series) as his diabolical daughter. Watch the look on her face as she screams "Faster! FASTER!!" as her servants whip the young hero, who has been captured after being tricked into delivering the sword and mask into Manchu's hands. For a glimpse of the makeup used to transform Loy into her character, see below:

Mummy attacks, evil laboratories, exotic locations and ancient artifacts - everything here for a great time. FU MANCHU may be suffer slightly for falling under the shadow of Karloff's other horror movie to come out the same year (some obscure film called FRANKENSTEIN), but there's a lot of fun and whimsy on display here, even if it's more an adventure film that an outright horror film.

But none of that really mattered to me. Because while the movie played its lights across the room, I was 7 years old again, curled up with my dad again, enchanted as I always was, and probably always will be.

The Mask of Fu Manchu (1932)

For casual moviegoers living in a world of 200 million dollar blockbusters, IMAX 3-D theaters, entire movies animated by computers, even films from just 30 years ago may be hard to accept, let alone movies from 60 and 70 years ago. The need to suspend disbelief is greater for these films; you're not just accepting what fantastic elements may appear, you have to accept the patter of language, the play of shadow and light in the various black and white worlds the movies inhabit. Without this suspension, this willingness to allow yourself to become engrossed in the flicker of a bye gone era, you only see the scratches in the film, the painted backdrops, the zipper in the costume.

But let yourself fall into the rhythms of this celluloid world, and you see something else entirely.

I grew up with this mentality. Many of my earliest memories (outlined here in a previous post) center around watching movies with my father, who came to America when he was a child and devoured the films of Humphrey Bogart, Cary Grant, Errol Flynn. Watching those films with me was a way for him to remember one of the few joys of his childhood (growing up a German immigrant only 10 years after WWII wasn't the easiest thing to do). And maybe part of the love I have for watching older movies is the memory it brings of my own childhood, laying down with my head crooked in his elbow as we were both dazzled by what played on the television.

So it's an early Sunday morning in late October 2006. I pop in THE MASK OF FU MANCHU, curl up with the coffee I picked up at 7-11, and promptly fall back 30 years.

FU MANCHU is really more action than horror; think of it as a precursor to RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK. The British government hires a group of adventurers in a race against time to recover the lost tomb of Genghis Khan. The rush? It's also being sought by the fiendish Fu Manchu, deliciously played by Boris Karloff. Fu Manchu believes that by obtaining the relics found inside the tomb, namely the Golden Mask, he will become the reincarnation of Khan and be able to rally the Asian countries behind him in a bid for world domination.

The more I see of Boris Karloff, the more I appreciate just how brilliant an actor he was. It doesn't matter how much make-up is caked on, how bad the dialog is: once he appears on screen you are completely riveted. And his first appearance in FU MANCHU is a doozy: a close-up of him in full Asian makeup, in his lab. A distorted mirror immediately to his left twists and amplifies his face, displaying his dual nature as genius scholar and mad torturer. Both sides of his personality appear early on - upon capturing the heroine's father he reminds him that he should be addressed as "Doctor" after listing his educational background. The torture of this same man later further shows his mad brilliance: the father is strapped under a large bell that constantly chimes; when thirsty, Fu Manchu brings him water, but it's filled with salt.

And if you think Karloff is evil as Fu Manchu, wait until you see a young Myrna Loy (later to be Nora Charles in the excellent THIN MAN series) as his diabolical daughter. Watch the look on her face as she screams "Faster! FASTER!!" as her servants whip the young hero, who has been captured after being tricked into delivering the sword and mask into Manchu's hands. For a glimpse of the makeup used to transform Loy into her character, see below:

Mummy attacks, evil laboratories, exotic locations and ancient artifacts - everything here for a great time. FU MANCHU may be suffer slightly for falling under the shadow of Karloff's other horror movie to come out the same year (some obscure film called FRANKENSTEIN), but there's a lot of fun and whimsy on display here, even if it's more an adventure film that an outright horror film.

But none of that really mattered to me. Because while the movie played its lights across the room, I was 7 years old again, curled up with my dad again, enchanted as I always was, and probably always will be.

Feast (2005)

Of all the death that occurs in FEAST, the most appropriate killing blow is not to one of the characters, but to Project Greenlight, whose record of finding mediocre talent to write and direct mediocre films can finally be put to rest with this incredible disappointment of a movie.

FEAST purports to be an "innovative mix" of comedy and horror, featuring cult actors and buckets of unrated gore and gross-out humor that was supposedly too much for anyone to actually release theatrically. I can only think this over the top moment refers to when one of the beasts in the movie has their genitalia chopped off, where it falls down the stairs and proceeds to spill its milky contents over the floor. Or perhaps it's when one of the beasts in the opening of the film humps a bull head mounted over a bar (I won't metion the scene with the one-legged girl and the oral monster sex...or will I?)? Hopefully you're starting to get the drift of what's going on here.

The film concerns a crazy group of people trapped in a bar by a family of crazy fast toothy monsters who for some bizarre reason decided they weren't creepy enough so they covered themselves in roadkill. The bar patrons are the "feast" over the course of the evening.

It actually starts off with some tongue-in-cheek promise: The titles are done with a handheld 8mm camera. Roadkill is picked up off the road and the words FEAST come on the screen. Jump cut to 35mm and a car crash, and we're off to the bar. The main characters are introduced in freezes similar to the opening titles of The A-Team: we learn the names, occupations, and chances of survival in the picture. Suddenly a bloody man races into the bar holding a shotgun in one hand and the head of one of the creatures in the other. There's 4 of these things, and they're heading right for the bar. "Who are you?" they ask.

"I'm the guy that's gonna save your ass," he replies, seconds before he's ripped through a window and decapitated.

The rest of the movie is a tired retread of dozens of other, better movies. The creatures are only seen in flashes, the better to hide how ridiculous they look. The acting ranges from eh to ahhh, eh. But that's pretty much expected when your cast includes Henry Rollins, Jason Mewes and World Champion of the World Judah Friedlander. And they're the best things in the movie.

Just plain bad, folks. Project Greenlight went 3-for-3 with crappy flicks, and here's hoping the carnage of FEAST puts that green light to red for good.

Ringu (1998)

The movie opens with an image of water - dark, rolling waves pulling slowly back. Cut to two girls chatting in a typical teen bedroom - one tells a story she heard about some kids that, after watching a TV show got a message saying they'd die in seven days. The other girl, Tomoko, freezes; she demands to know where she heard the story. Shaken, she then tells her own story: she and a few friends went up to a cabin for the weekend and watched a mysterious videotape, followed by a phone call saying they'll die in seven days. After a tense moment, Tomoko giggles to relieve the tension. All seems fine until the phone rings...

RINGU plays with many different conventions, and is a classic example of what is now commonly referred to as "J-Horror" - films that come out of Japan (and now other Asian countries) focusing on dread, ghosts, and unrepentant evil from the past, among other things. Director Hideo Nataka plays the opening with maximum tension, using a studied knowledge of teen behavior and movie horror to set the scene correctly. He does this with small flourishes - the phone call that turns out to be nothing more than a concerned parent, the careful disarray of clothing as the police examine another murder scene - this time two kids who died at exactly the same moment in a parked, locked car.

One of the great things about the beginning of the movie is exactly how the story of the cursed videotape is told - as reporter and heroine Asakawa listens to different school girls tell their versions, we are witness to the creation of urban legend - nothing is completely correct, yet all version hold grains of fact to be nurtured into an ultimately terrifying truth.

As Asakawa and her ex-husband Ruyji race to decipher the meaning of the video and the means to end their own impending doom, Nataka again balances the terror and the relationship between the two protagonists. The horror and tension that occurs works precisely because we grow to care about these two people - their entire time together the repressed feeling that lay in their divorce are constantly threatening to stop simmering and come to the surface.

The use of sound and repeated images (reflections in the television, the long dark hair, etc...) add to the suspense. And what about the famous ending? I've found few things that have been as disturbing. If you've never seen the movie before and walked in not knowing what was going to happen, you'll never guess what awaits.

Completely satisfying, with a nod to THE TERMINATOR at the very end that leaves you feeling with a sense of dread you'll carry for a while after the television shuts off.

Feast (2005)

Of all the death that occurs in FEAST, the most appropriate killing blow is not to one of the characters, but to Project Greenlight, whose record of finding mediocre talent to write and direct mediocre films can finally be put to rest with this incredible disappointment of a movie.

FEAST purports to be an "innovative mix" of comedy and horror, featuring cult actors and buckets of unrated gore and gross-out humor that was supposedly too much for anyone to actually release theatrically. I can only think this over the top moment refers to when one of the beasts in the movie has their genitalia chopped off, where it falls down the stairs and proceeds to spill its milky contents over the floor. Or perhaps it's when one of the beasts in the opening of the film humps a bull head mounted over a bar (I won't metion the scene with the one-legged girl and the oral monster sex...or will I?)? Hopefully you're starting to get the drift of what's going on here.

The film concerns a crazy group of people trapped in a bar by a family of crazy fast toothy monsters who for some bizarre reason decided they weren't creepy enough so they covered themselves in roadkill. The bar patrons are the "feast" over the course of the evening.

It actually starts off with some tongue-in-cheek promise: The titles are done with a handheld 8mm camera. Roadkill is picked up off the road and the words FEAST come on the screen. Jump cut to 35mm and a car crash, and we're off to the bar. The main characters are introduced in freezes similar to the opening titles of The A-Team: we learn the names, occupations, and chances of survival in the picture. Suddenly a bloody man races into the bar holding a shotgun in one hand and the head of one of the creatures in the other. There's 4 of these things, and they're heading right for the bar. "Who are you?" they ask.

"I'm the guy that's gonna save your ass," he replies, seconds before he's ripped through a window and decapitated.

The rest of the movie is a tired retread of dozens of other, better movies. The creatures are only seen in flashes, the better to hide how ridiculous they look. The acting ranges from eh to ahhh, eh. But that's pretty much expected when your cast includes Henry Rollins, Jason Mewes and World Champion of the World Judah Friedlander. And they're the best things in the movie.

Just plain bad, folks. Project Greenlight went 3-for-3 with crappy flicks, and here's hoping the carnage of FEAST puts that green light to red for good.

Ringu (1998)

The movie opens with an image of water - dark, rolling waves pulling slowly back. Cut to two girls chatting in a typical teen bedroom - one tells a story she heard about some kids that, after watching a TV show got a message saying they'd die in seven days. The other girl, Tomoko, freezes; she demands to know where she heard the story. Shaken, she then tells her own story: she and a few friends went up to a cabin for the weekend and watched a mysterious videotape, followed by a phone call saying they'll die in seven days. After a tense moment, Tomoko giggles to relieve the tension. All seems fine until the phone rings...

RINGU plays with many different conventions, and is a classic example of what is now commonly referred to as "J-Horror" - films that come out of Japan (and now other Asian countries) focusing on dread, ghosts, and unrepentant evil from the past, among other things. Director Hideo Nataka plays the opening with maximum tension, using a studied knowledge of teen behavior and movie horror to set the scene correctly. He does this with small flourishes - the phone call that turns out to be nothing more than a concerned parent, the careful disarray of clothing as the police examine another murder scene - this time two kids who died at exactly the same moment in a parked, locked car.

One of the great things about the beginning of the movie is exactly how the story of the cursed videotape is told - as reporter and heroine Asakawa listens to different school girls tell their versions, we are witness to the creation of urban legend - nothing is completely correct, yet all version hold grains of fact to be nurtured into an ultimately terrifying truth.

As Asakawa and her ex-husband Ruyji race to decipher the meaning of the video and the means to end their own impending doom, Nataka again balances the terror and the relationship between the two protagonists. The horror and tension that occurs works precisely because we grow to care about these two people - their entire time together the repressed feeling that lay in their divorce are constantly threatening to stop simmering and come to the surface.

The use of sound and repeated images (reflections in the television, the long dark hair, etc...) add to the suspense. And what about the famous ending? I've found few things that have been as disturbing. If you've never seen the movie before and walked in not knowing what was going to happen, you'll never guess what awaits.

Completely satisfying, with a nod to THE TERMINATOR at the very end that leaves you feeling with a sense of dread you'll carry for a while after the television shuts off.

Hellraiser (1987)

You know, if it weren't for the murders, resurrections of dead people, mysterious maggot-eating strangers, S&M demons from Hell who who rip the flesh from your still-living bodies, I would swear this wasn't a horror movie.

Does that make sense?

I've always loved Clive Barker's writing. Whereas someone like Stephen King (whom I also love) paints his tales from the string and bottle caps that make up his own skewered version of New England America, Barker's horror is forever tied up in love, sex, morality, and the transformation of the body and the soul. When he finally came out of the closet years ago, his writing embodied these obsessions even more clearly (the best examples of these themes can be found in the novels Imajica and Sacrament, both highly recommended).

So what does all this have to do with HELLRAISER? Well, at its heart the film deals with these same issues. It's about experiencing the ultimate pleasures of the flesh, and the lengths some will go to achieve it. It's about forbidden love, and the costs that are involved in pursuing it. It's about the corruption of youth, and perhaps it's also about how all of these things are closer to our everyday days then we normally like to think.

Barker introduces two new commercial properties to the world of horror: the first is the Lament Configuration, a strange puzzle box that, used correctly, grant the opener a gateway to experiences and sensations not found in the realms of the real. Barker has a knack for naming things (another common theme in his writing), and the Lament Configuration is very aptly named, as its method of introducing the sensations in question arrive in the form of the Cenobites, headed by Pinhead, one of the most recognizable horror figures in recent memory. At the time HELLRAISER came out, there wasn't anything remotely like these leather-clad demons from beyond. In out current world of THE MATRIX, X-MEN, UNDERWORLD, and countless other movies that adopted the familiar uniform, it's hard to believe Barker did it first almost 19 years ago.

I realize I didn't say much about the movie. It works in a number of key scenes, and appears quite Gothic in the form of Claire Higgins, who resorts to seducing men in bars only to bring them back to her place in order to murder them in an attempt to bring her dead lover back to life. HELLRAISER is really a small English morality tale, dressed up to look like horror.

Halloween (1978)

So much has been said about John Carpenter's HALLOWEEN and it's place in modern horror history that it seems ridiculous to write a new review of it now, especially considering this is the first time I've ever seen it, and have already been witness to its influence in the dozens of films that came after it. So instead I'll stick to some brief thoughts about what I liked as I watched.

The movie begins in the point of view of young Michael Myers who, for no discernible reason, picks up a butcher's knife, walks upstairs, and brutally murders his sister. The scene of him standing outside his home, knife in hand as his parents stare in silent horror, is emphasized by the terrible expression young Michael wears on his face, and proves to be one of the most disturbing scenes in the whole film.

Then the credits roll, the first notes ring out, and you can't talk about HALLOWEEN without talking about Carpenter's score for the film. It's no secret that Carpenter scores most of his movies, but he created something classic for HALLOWEEN. Reminiscent of Mike Oldfield's "Tubular Bells" (used to great effect in THE EXORCIST), the theme's spare, haunting melody works for every scene it's used.

Fast forward 15 years. In a fast, shocking series of scenes we watch Michael escape from the mental institution where he's been ever since the incident. He steals a car and it's not long before he's returning to his hometown of Haddonfield, IL to reenact the events of that Halloween night so many years ago. This is as much as you get in terms of motivation or plot. It's one of the few successful examples of how not explaining things serves to enhance a film instead of ruin it. We never learn (at least in the first film) why Michael Myers did what he did, why he comes back to the town, why he signals out Laurie Strode (played by my first crush Jamie Lee Curtis), or how he manages to not die. The mystery makes him larger than life, and the lack of logic behind his actions makes him even more terrifying.

One of the best things about this movie is how Carpenter purposefully ignores some of the more obvious opportunities for cheap, appear-out-of-nowhere scares and instead opts for a more removed style of overall dread. Some of the great examples - watching "The Shape" (as he's referred to in the credit) slowly appear in the darkness behind Laurie, his face hovering indefinitely until he finally attacks. The way he shifts his head, both curious and satisfied as he views the body of one unfortunate man staked to the wall in the kitchen. And the great penultimate ending when, as Laurie is getting up thinking it's all over, you see Michael Myers in the background rise up and look at her.

In each of the above-mentioned scenes, Carpenter takes his time, moving slowly but assuredly in each, prolonging the dread and the inevitability what going to happen next. HALLOWEEN is a great example of what someone with talent vision can do with very limited means.

Of course, it doesn't hurt to have Jamie Lee Curtis in your movie, either...

Hellraiser (1987)

You know, if it weren't for the murders, resurrections of dead people, mysterious maggot-eating strangers, S&M demons from Hell who who rip the flesh from your still-living bodies, I would swear this wasn't a horror movie.

Does that make sense?

I've always loved Clive Barker's writing. Whereas someone like Stephen King (whom I also love) paints his tales from the string and bottle caps that make up his own skewered version of New England America, Barker's horror is forever tied up in love, sex, morality, and the transformation of the body and the soul. When he finally came out of the closet years ago, his writing embodied these obsessions even more clearly (the best examples of these themes can be found in the novels Imajica and Sacrament, both highly recommended).

So what does all this have to do with HELLRAISER? Well, at its heart the film deals with these same issues. It's about experiencing the ultimate pleasures of the flesh, and the lengths some will go to achieve it. It's about forbidden love, and the costs that are involved in pursuing it. It's about the corruption of youth, and perhaps it's also about how all of these things are closer to our everyday days then we normally like to think.

Barker introduces two new commercial properties to the world of horror: the first is the Lament Configuration, a strange puzzle box that, used correctly, grant the opener a gateway to experiences and sensations not found in the realms of the real. Barker has a knack for naming things (another common theme in his writing), and the Lament Configuration is very aptly named, as its method of introducing the sensations in question arrive in the form of the Cenobites, headed by Pinhead, one of the most recognizable horror figures in recent memory. At the time HELLRAISER came out, there wasn't anything remotely like these leather-clad demons from beyond. In out current world of THE MATRIX, X-MEN, UNDERWORLD, and countless other movies that adopted the familiar uniform, it's hard to believe Barker did it first almost 19 years ago.

I realize I didn't say much about the movie. It works in a number of key scenes, and appears quite Gothic in the form of Claire Higgins, who resorts to seducing men in bars only to bring them back to her place in order to murder them in an attempt to bring her dead lover back to life. HELLRAISER is really a small English morality tale, dressed up to look like horror.

Halloween (1978)

So much has been said about John Carpenter's HALLOWEEN and it's place in modern horror history that it seems ridiculous to write a new review of it now, especially considering this is the first time I've ever seen it, and have already been witness to its influence in the dozens of films that came after it. So instead I'll stick to some brief thoughts about what I liked as I watched.

The movie begins in the point of view of young Michael Myers who, for no discernible reason, picks up a butcher's knife, walks upstairs, and brutally murders his sister. The scene of him standing outside his home, knife in hand as his parents stare in silent horror, is emphasized by the terrible expression young Michael wears on his face, and proves to be one of the most disturbing scenes in the whole film.

Then the credits roll, the first notes ring out, and you can't talk about HALLOWEEN without talking about Carpenter's score for the film. It's no secret that Carpenter scores most of his movies, but he created something classic for HALLOWEEN. Reminiscent of Mike Oldfield's "Tubular Bells" (used to great effect in THE EXORCIST), the theme's spare, haunting melody works for every scene it's used.

Fast forward 15 years. In a fast, shocking series of scenes we watch Michael escape from the mental institution where he's been ever since the incident. He steals a car and it's not long before he's returning to his hometown of Haddonfield, IL to reenact the events of that Halloween night so many years ago. This is as much as you get in terms of motivation or plot. It's one of the few successful examples of how not explaining things serves to enhance a film instead of ruin it. We never learn (at least in the first film) why Michael Myers did what he did, why he comes back to the town, why he signals out Laurie Strode (played by my first crush Jamie Lee Curtis), or how he manages to not die. The mystery makes him larger than life, and the lack of logic behind his actions makes him even more terrifying.

One of the best things about this movie is how Carpenter purposefully ignores some of the more obvious opportunities for cheap, appear-out-of-nowhere scares and instead opts for a more removed style of overall dread. Some of the great examples - watching "The Shape" (as he's referred to in the credit) slowly appear in the darkness behind Laurie, his face hovering indefinitely until he finally attacks. The way he shifts his head, both curious and satisfied as he views the body of one unfortunate man staked to the wall in the kitchen. And the great penultimate ending when, as Laurie is getting up thinking it's all over, you see Michael Myers in the background rise up and look at her.

In each of the above-mentioned scenes, Carpenter takes his time, moving slowly but assuredly in each, prolonging the dread and the inevitability what going to happen next. HALLOWEEN is a great example of what someone with talent vision can do with very limited means.

Of course, it doesn't hurt to have Jamie Lee Curtis in your movie, either...

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)

Having watched the other two staples of modern Hollywood horror over the past week, FRIDAY THE 13TH and HALLOWEEN (review coming later), my appreciation for Wes Craven's A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET has increased even more. Craven took the monster out of the woods, off of our street, and put him in the one place we can't escape from:

Our dreams.

Made just 4 years after the original FRIDAY, it looks a little dated almost 22 years later. But there's so many things that work in the movie - from the incredible opening sequence to the classic death scene by Johnny Depp - the dated effects and lapses in continuity are easily forgiven.

In brief: a group are kids are having the same terrifying dreams: being chased and stalked by a mysterious burned man wearing an old and a ratty red and green sweater. On his hand is a glove with long, sharp knives for fingers. It soon turns out this "Dream Man" can indeed chase you through your dreams, and he's exacting his revenge on the children for their parent's sin of burning him alive in a boiler room 20 years before. Die in your dreams, die for real. So it's left to our heroine Nancy to take matters into her won hands (literally) and drag Freddy Krueger out into the waking world for a final showdown.

I remember watching this movie for the first time when it came out on HBO years ago with my mother. We both recoiled against the far wall where the sofa was, pulling my grandmother's knit blanket over our heads while my mother cried "Never again! I'm not watching this!"

Good times.

Watching again now, I'm amazed at how effective the beginning works. The opening is a small square shot of Freddy making his killing glove in the boiler room. We see almost nothing - just the knives, the hissing pipes, the flames as the blowtorch welds the razors into place. As Freddy puts the glove on for the first time the titles come up with the score. We then proceed directly to Tina's dream as she's chased through a boiler room. Lambs pass by, you constantly hear their bleating as she moves further and further into the labyrinth of the boilers. The score works as effect, accentuating the scrape of the razors against the steel. When Tina runs, her steps seem almost comically slow - until you recall your own attempts to run in your dreams.

Of course the movie's greatest strength lies in its mythology and its version of the Anti-God: Mr Freddy Krueger. Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees are silent hulks, offering only the sounds of their death dealing for a voice. Freddy brings with him an entire universe - as the saying goes, "he contains multitudes." This is one of the first moments that the thing under the bed had a personality to speak of. Although the actual number of deaths are relatively few, the creativity in the killing and the amount of blood definitely one-ups Freddy's predecessors - Michael has a butcher knife, Jason used an arrow, but only Freddy can make your bed eat you.

Inevitably, the ending seems a little forced, setting things up for a sure-fire franchise. But in terms of setting up a sense of dread, of helplessness, of placing both the characters and the audience in situations that pray upon our own fears of falling asleep and not being able to wake up, A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET is a great horror gem, still scary all these years later.

A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984)

Having watched the other two staples of modern Hollywood horror over the past week, FRIDAY THE 13TH and HALLOWEEN (review coming later), my appreciation for Wes Craven's A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET has increased even more. Craven took the monster out of the woods, off of our street, and put him in the one place we can't escape from:

Our dreams.

Made just 4 years after the original FRIDAY, it looks a little dated almost 22 years later. But there's so many things that work in the movie - from the incredible opening sequence to the classic death scene by Johnny Depp - the dated effects and lapses in continuity are easily forgiven.

In brief: a group are kids are having the same terrifying dreams: being chased and stalked by a mysterious burned man wearing an old and a ratty red and green sweater. On his hand is a glove with long, sharp knives for fingers. It soon turns out this "Dream Man" can indeed chase you through your dreams, and he's exacting his revenge on the children for their parent's sin of burning him alive in a boiler room 20 years before. Die in your dreams, die for real. So it's left to our heroine Nancy to take matters into her won hands (literally) and drag Freddy Krueger out into the waking world for a final showdown.

I remember watching this movie for the first time when it came out on HBO years ago with my mother. We both recoiled against the far wall where the sofa was, pulling my grandmother's knit blanket over our heads while my mother cried "Never again! I'm not watching this!"

Good times.

Watching again now, I'm amazed at how effective the beginning works. The opening is a small square shot of Freddy making his killing glove in the boiler room. We see almost nothing - just the knives, the hissing pipes, the flames as the blowtorch welds the razors into place. As Freddy puts the glove on for the first time the titles come up with the score. We then proceed directly to Tina's dream as she's chased through a boiler room. Lambs pass by, you constantly hear their bleating as she moves further and further into the labyrinth of the boilers. The score works as effect, accentuating the scrape of the razors against the steel. When Tina runs, her steps seem almost comically slow - until you recall your own attempts to run in your dreams.

Of course the movie's greatest strength lies in its mythology and its version of the Anti-God: Mr Freddy Krueger. Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees are silent hulks, offering only the sounds of their death dealing for a voice. Freddy brings with him an entire universe - as the saying goes, "he contains multitudes." This is one of the first moments that the thing under the bed had a personality to speak of. Although the actual number of deaths are relatively few, the creativity in the killing and the amount of blood definitely one-ups Freddy's predecessors - Michael has a butcher knife, Jason used an arrow, but only Freddy can make your bed eat you.

Inevitably, the ending seems a little forced, setting things up for a sure-fire franchise. But in terms of setting up a sense of dread, of helplessness, of placing both the characters and the audience in situations that pray upon our own fears of falling asleep and not being able to wake up, A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET is a great horror gem, still scary all these years later.