THE ORIGINAL “CARNIVAL OF SOULS”

 

 

 

 

I was introduced to CARNIVAL OF SOULS (1962) some twenty years ago by a buddy of mine. I had never heard of the film before, and since it has always been my friend’s favorite film he was more than happy to lend me his VHS copy. All I can say after sitting through this tale of afterlife and the ghouls that chase us is that I totally get why he loved it so. Fast forward to 2012 where I get the chance to see it all over again. And is it as worthy? Two words to that: Like Duh.

Candace Hilligoss is an organ player who, after cheating death, starts seeing dead people. They’re everywhere she goes: in the reflection of her car window, at her rooming house; at the carnival… Moreover, as if in a trance, she suddenly becomes invisible to her entourage, but only for a short period of time. Enough to become even more scared and confused. All of this is told from her point of view, with some organ music and shadowy corners to spare, and it works aplenty. Yes, the script and the performance may not always be up to par but the overall effect is quite stifling, if not chilling.

 

Director Herk Harvey works well with a meager budget and even manages to gloss everything up. Indeed, every frame looks fine and dandy. Impressive even comes to mind. Of course, the film has a few flaws, like being monotonous once in awhile. But those are few and far between. And, to tell you the truth, all is saved by the big revelation near the end. A big cliffhanger that makes you go over the film again either in your head or at the click of a DVD button.

 

 

Yes, CARNIVAL OF SOULS deserves proudly his classic status. It is cult horror at its best. Probably, because most viewers will find it fun and exciting. Now, I’ve heard little about the colorized version. Is it worth it? I probably guess so, since it’s presented in all its glory. But to tell you the truth, I much rather remember this film as it is. Clearly one of the best low-budget quickie to ever grace our screens.

 

　
Until next post—Martin

MORTUARY (1983)

I admit, the main reason I chose to see this flick was because of Mary McDonough. The ex-WALTONS star plays Christie, a rather troubled teen who’s convinced her deceased dad have been murdered. Her mom, Linda Day George of PIECES fame ("Bastaaard!"), is not that easily persuaded. That is until she meets the grim reaper himself in the form of Bill Paxton. He plays the mortuary son and he’s a little cuckoo if not heavily enamoured with McDonough. When he kidnaps the latter and plans to embalm her so they can be together forever (huh?), it’s up to McDonough’s boyfriend (David Wallace from the delectable HUMONGOUS) to save the day. But does he really?

The last time I saw MORTUARY was about 25 years ago. It played on late night TV one summer. I taped it, enjoyed it to a certain degree, and forgot about it—until it got resurrected in 2012 on DVD via Scorpion Releasing. Of course I had to get myself a copy. The film, in a brand new 16X9 HD master from the original InterNegative, comes with an extra featurette focusing on score composer John Cacavas. It isn’t much but I’m willing to take anything regarding long lost treasures such as this one.

 

As much as I dig MORTUARY, the film is far from being perfect, starting with the misleading but effective movie trailer which focuses on Michael Berryman (one of the baddies in the original THE HILLS HAVE EYES) digging a grave. Trouble is, his involvement with the project stops right there. Yes, boys and girls, his presence is nowhere to be found in the feature. What we get instead is a lot of McDonough stalking and nothing of roaring creatures living underneath the cemetery ground. Would MORTUARY have been better had it been a creature feature flick? Perhaps. But you still have to give the film credits for delivering the goods in a Z-grade way. My favorite over the top moment has got to be when just-been-stalked-in-her-home Christie goes from hysterical to happy in a blink of an eye. She even toasts with her mom to their new-found relationship. I guess cheating death doesn’t hold a candle to the love a mother and daughter share.

Moreover, the whole hidden identity of the white paint faced killer is totally ludicrous. Mr. Paxton doesn’t fool us one bit. Even though the director tries hard to hide the star’s identity with mostly long shot scenes of him in action, it doesn’t take Einstein to figure Paxton out. And when we do, all we have left is to laugh at and with the film. Because, truth be told, it is a joy to follow those onscreen kids around during the early ‘80s when roller skating and pulling pranks ruled. Of course, female nudity is required—but not too much! Just as long as it involves a body double, as star McDonough can surely attest using. And all in all, if "taken with a grain of salt" is what best describes this low-budget flick, then more power to it I say. For it has only one purpose: to hold our interest till the very end, and that’s what MORTUARY achieves doing without a doubt.

　
Until next post—Martin

“HORROR HIGH”, AKA “TWISTED BRAIN”

Cheeky horror films of the ‘70s are most fun to watch when they don’t take themselves too seriously. Take HORROR HIGH (1974) for example. Child star now grown up Pat Cardi plays Vernon, a high-school misfit who, forced to swallow some chemical concoction by a pissed janitor (something to do about his lost cat found dead in the lab department), becomes THE INCREDIBLE HULK but without the rippling muscles and the green pigmentation. Indeed, little Vernon is so fed up being the scapegoat that he finally takes the bull by the horns revenge-style. From the doomed janitor to the prissy English teacher, not to mention the dumb jock who’s been bullying him all year long, they all end up regretting having laid a finger on him. And to make matters worse, no one can stop him. Not even the police officer who’s assigned to the case, nor the jock’s girl who’s been eyeing Vernon… He is indestructible and will forever be—or so he thinks.

HORROR HIGH plays like a bad after-school special. Everything in it is borderline lame, from the bland direction to the amateurish performances; but contrary to many films in the genre this one manages to be quite endearing despite its faults. Thanks mostly to its true to form grade-Z agenda that keeps getting wilder as the movie progresses. Filmmaker Larry N. Stouffer seems to have vanished after that film (except for a brief return in 2006 as one of the screenwriters for some comedy called WAITIN' TO LIVE) and it’s truly a shame since he does have the making of another Edward D. Wood but with a better refinement, if that’s possible. I know, this sounds awfully disrespectful, but believe me it is said with the deepest love. I breathe, sleep and eat in grade-Z poop.

J.D. Felgelson, the screenwriter, is best known for having penned the excellent  DARK NIGHT OF THE SCARECROW (1981)  But he also wrote some other clunkers, like the  TV movie CRY FOR THE STRANGERS (1982) based on the John Saul novel of the same name, and more recently the shark-infested river of RED WATER starring Lou Diamond Phillips. Surely, this guy is my new best friend. I mean, how can you not love him. He certainly knows a thing or two about cheesy flicks, and anyone who has managed to prosper in these troubling waters for as long as he did deserves my sole devotion. That is, until the next over the top flick from another scriptwriter comes along. In the meanwhile, watch HORROR HIGH and see for yourself how much fun it really is to be bad.

This DVD review is based solely on the public domain version going around. But since I’ve enjoyed the film so much, I’m seriously thinking of purchasing the  Code Red Special Edition format, the one uncut with tons of extras and the brand new 16X9 (1.85:1) transfer mastered in high definition from original negatives. I’m sure that, just like the flick itself, it’s definitely worth owning.

　
Until next post—Martin

"BEYOND THE SHROUD" AND RICK HAUTALA

BEYOND THE SHROUD by the legendary Rick Hautala—you  know, the other Maine prolific author whose scary tales during the ‘80s horror boom and beyond have gathered a faithful following—is definitely worth the time spent. His protagonist is a dead man. Literally. There is no surprise revelation here, since the novel makes you understand the whole situation right from the start. Caught between two worlds, what the author calls the Shadowlands, he meets all kind of strange creatures, one of which is his already deceased daughter (of a skiing accident) who may or may not be who she says she is. At the same time on planet earth mourns his ex-wife (and mother of the deceased child in question) who’s involved herself with a lunatic Brad Pitt type who digs knives. Anyway, to make a long story short, big screen GHOST this ain’t (trust me), but it sure makes you want to think it is at first glance.

Just like the film, Hautala plays with the ethereal and the real world shtick quite convincingly, mixing both in great doze to create a super-charged tale beyond the grave for the quiet horror in you. Because let’s not mince words, BEYOND THE SHROUD is scarcely a no holds barred type of a novel that will make you cringe on the edge of your seat. It will make you cringe all right but in a more subtle way, as mood supersedes any action sequences. Scenes of gloomy atmosphere fill the pages, as well as an impressive rich narrative. But what I remember most about this book is the way Hautala narrates his tale sparingly, taking his time to develop characterization and sceneries up to a point where the reader feels as uncomfortable with dread emanating from the words than from the story itself. And to me that is horror.

Mind you, the plot does tend to verge on predictability, but the overall intake is of pure beauty. I have read a few Hautala titles in my time, and none have disappointed me. Which is a treat, really, when considering the many horror authors one can choose from. My favorite of his still has got to be WINTER WAKE and I urge any publishers to re-release it as an e-book. It is as perfect as… well… an evil-looking winter wonderland. BEYOND THE SHROUD may not reach that same perfection plateau, but it sure deserves the same fate. In an era of blood-drenched narrative, subtlety is more than welcome in horror novels. Well, at least it is in this camp.

UPDATE:  Well, it looks like the news just passed me by, for it seems that WINTER WAKE and a few other titles like LITTLE BROTHERS and NIGHTSTONE are already—or soon will be—published in digital form.  Go check them out. 

Until next post—Martin

IT'S ALL OWEN WEST'S FAULT

In the fall of 1980 I hooked up with a guy who would change the course of my life for the better. His name was Owen West. Now, if you think this post is about to take a turn into smutville, think again. Because Owen West is an author who, thanks to his knack for effective writing, awakened my sense of reading in English. Yeah, you’ve read right. If it hadn’t been for him, I may have never stepped as freely into the horror genre, as it was becoming very hip back then with the upswing of both films and print. Indeed, ever since the success of THE OMEN and HALLOWEEN, people were into horror like you wouldn’t believe. So, naturally, in came scads of horror paperback originals that included novelization of upcoming films, like 1981 THE FUNHOUSE onto which this Owen West fellow had based his first novel.

As you can imagine, I was already considered a horror buff back then, having seen as many films as I could, TOURIST TRAP, SILENT SCREAM, the John Carpenter classic, a lot of Hammer flicks… All were part of my yearly big or small screen routine. It took the arrival of super great FRIDAY THE 13TH PART 2 a year or so later to really cement my love for the genre, but, yeah, even by that time I was in the zone. So to me, reading horror was the next logical step. Easier said than done, believe me. Let me explain. Being a French Canadian teen with a limited knowledge of the English words made things a little difficult. Moreover, as we didn’t have many horror books in French (or so I thought) and the ones I fancied were all in English, I felt even more stuck as a reader. That is, until I decided to give it a go anyway and pick up an English novel with a cool cover at the five and dime store. The one I chose had lurid eyes that said open if you dare, so I did.

It did take me a long while to get through this fine and spooky tale of carnival people and the visitors who fell prey to them but I eventually made it through, with an English/French dictionary in tow. Sure, I didn’t understand most of it but I still managed to get an inkling of what the plot and dialogue were about, and to me that was more than enough. Besides, just knowing that I could continue delving into English modern horror fiction was the best sentiment ever. I felt protected. Understood. Being an unpopular kid at the time, this knowledge made me feel less alone, made life a little better.

It took a year before another Owen West novel hit the stand. By that time I was already a real pro with the English tongue. Oh, many other books have followed THE FUNHOUSE, but never have I been more proud of myself than that faithful day. I’m sure I won’t surprise anyone when I reveal that Owen West is really Dean Koontz. Being prolific, he used many pseudonyms during that period of time. And though I have dipped into Koontz’s world often enough, it is Owen West to whom I must dedicate this blog entry, for without him and his scary words I may never have had the guts to step outside of the French box, and in return would never have started this blog some 30 years later. So thanks a million, Owen. I definitely owe you one.

Until next post—Martin

Alan Ryan and "THE KILL"

  


I don’t know squat about horror author Alan Ryan except for the fact that he recently passed away from pancreatic cancer. Still, this saddens me. Probably because like most of you, I’m very sensitive to people suffering. I mean, yes, I dig horror on screen and in books, but when it comes to real life, I’m a true softie. The other reason this gets to me is probably because I also feel a connection with the author, owning four of his published novels. Whatever the case may be, his untimely death shook me a little and made me want to pick up one of his titles to read right away. I chose his 1982 THE KILL from Tor Books. It’s all about the woods, country life, an this evil presence that roams the area.　





I was already aware of THE KILL, having seen it as a new release way back when. I remember having been attracted by the cover art which reminded me of John Saul’s. Not just by coincidence, I’m sure. My guess is that the publishers were hoping to lure the same wide audience to purchase this book. Wrong move, if you ask me. THE KILL is nothing like the work of John Saul, except that both authors have the same clear line attitude when building up a story; Mr. Ryan even more so with his direct approach and unwordy stance.

　

THE KILL is about a young unmarried couple from New York who decide that the simple life is the way to go. So they pack up their bags and move to a fictitious rural town not far away called Deacons Kill where they hope to settle in permanently and make new friends. Which they do but at a price. You see, something strange is going on at Deacons Kill. People seem to disappear without a trace or just drop dead for no reason at all, and the sheriff, aware of the whole situation, barely lifts a finger to do something about it. That is, until the newly arrived couple gets mixed up in the mess.

　



There is a lot more going on in this novel, like how the couple ended up in Deacon Kills in the first place, and who the heck is responsible for the two brutal killings taking place before the high-energized climax. We get to meet a lot of folks in THE KILL, some even from another time. All are relatively well-drawn despite limited characterization. The two main protagonists are the most defined of the bunch. But nearly all have a realistic flair to them which moves the story at a swell pace. The only true downside to THE KILL would be the lack of any real gritty action sequences. It takes a while before some blood does start heading our way. You could blame this on the author’s atmospheric handling which works aplenty but sort of runs out of steam before the big finale. Still, THE KILL is worth your time, especially if you like your horror quiet. All you need is a little patience and a new way of looking at things. Follow these simple rules and I promise you, you’ll have another new author to root for—despite his unfortunate passing.

THE KILL is now available at Necon E-Books; 330 KB pages; 2.99 US

Until next post—Martin

NOSFERATU & THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA

 

 

 

I’ve never been a big fan of Dracula movies. I enjoy them like the next guy but to a certain limit. That is until NOSFERATU (1921) came my way. Indeed, this German horror film made me re-think of the whole vampire sub-genre. Finally it isn’t always about sexy bloodsuckers. Sometimes it’s just about ugly creatures with fangs who can turn a whole town upside down just by their sheer presence. Yes, this NOSFERATU film has one scary dude to its advantage, but the flick is so much more than that. It’s also about gloomy atmosphere, it’s about impressive camera shots, lyrical pacing, solid story telling (even if it’s a stolen piece from the Bram Stoker classic, mind you), and no dialogue, because to those unaware of the fact (and there are some, trust me), the film is silent; and in black and white. But these last two details shouldn’t keep you away from seeing NOSFERATU, for it is certainly an experience in itself. One that even I, an expert in horror—or so they say—had carelessly overlooked for so many years. So indulge ASAP. You won’t regret it.

 

 

 

 

The second feature, THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA is another one I had the chance to discover. Like many of you, I already had heard of the musical based on the movie but I had never been tempted to see it—until now, that is. After watching this 1925 silent film I’m very curious to see what Broadway has done to it, especially of the big chandelier dropping scene which I imagine is part of the show. Anyway, to get back to the film, everything in THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA is grand, from the melodramatic on-screen performances to the panoramic handling by both director(s) and cinematographer. Very pleasing to the eye, I must admit. The only downside is that the investment isn’t as rewarding as the opposite film NOSFERATU. Oh, you do get caught up into this story of lost romance and revenge but the film feels more like a love story than anything else. As much fun as it is watching the Phantom losing it, nothing compares to the wrongdoings of the night creature in NOSFERATU. That’s the main reason why I don’t think I’ll be revisiting THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA anytime soon. But if you have yet to catch it, please do, if only for the visual gratification.

　




Until next post—Martin

"THE DEVIL BAT": A BATTY FLICK

 

 

The fictitious village of Heathville (Deathville/Heathville, get it?) in the 1940 THE DEVIL BAT from Alpha Video may be in turmoil over killer bats but has nothing to worry about visually: the film will always be considered grade-Z-looking no matter who gets bitten, and that’s a good thing. Well, it is if you dig this sort of trash cinema, and trust me, if you do, this one’s up your alley.

Bela Lugosi plays this evil doctor/scientist who, with the help of his breeding bats and a potion that passes for after-shave lotion (don’t ask), succeeds in getting rid of some of his enemies. Two reporters (one of which is Dave O’Brien, the guy who co-stars in the cult classic REEFER MADNESS portraying the piano and weed enthusiast. "Faster! Faster!" Remember?) are on his case. It doesn’t take Einstein to figure out that they’ll eventually come out on top but not before enduring the wrath of Le Lugosi and his winged minions.

 

 

 

Except for Lugosi and perhaps O’Brien who did continue to prosper in TV mostly, the rest of the cast are what you call unknowns. Not only are they weak in their respective roles but they’re also laughable in most of their scenes. Take the two aforementioned reporters; unless the director wanted a poor man Abbott and Costello type of budding, nothing in their performances is worth writing home about. Fun in a bad way comes to mind immediately, sort of like the film as a whole. However, some scenes involving the flying bat do end up being effective in a papier-mâché way—all mixed with close-ups of a real life bat; or should we say a close-up, since it seems to always be the same shot.

 
THE DEVIL BAT is definitely no lost cause once you get past the silly plot and FX. Oh it’s far from being the best awful flick out there (that would be TROLL 2, or better yet: THE LONELY LADY, reminisced on my other blog), but it’s clumsy enough to have a go at it either with a warp sense of humor or with a completely baked mind.

 

　
Until next post—Martin

“COUNT DRACULA AND HIS VAMPIRE BRIDE” OR THE PATSY STONE SHOW

I’ll say it again: they sure don’t make them like this 1974 Hammer production anymore. On second thought, have you seen Hammer 2012 THE WOMAN IN BLACK? You should. This time around, Christopher Lee’s more than ready to rule the earth as the ever-impressive count Dracula; with the help of some prominent men and a virulent mutant strain that recalls the death plague. Why does he want to get rid of the entire population? So he can play TITANIC Leonardo DiCaprio and be king of the world!… with his vampire bride at his side—TV’s ABSOLUTELY FABULOUS Joanna Lumley taking over Stephanie Beachman as Jessica Van Hessling. But before he can achieve that, he’ll have to fight the ever-creepy looking Peter Crushing who has yet to kill him once and for all. Not an easy task if based on Crushing’s failed exploits in past films.

COUNT DRACULA AND HIS VAMPIRE BRIDE (aka UK THE SATANIC RITES OF DRACULA) is the next to last in the film series. Little was I aware of that when I watched it. And to tell you the truth, I’m glad, for, as a stand alone piece, it works aplenty. You’ve got fangs, skin, blood; the works. Want more? Add a satanic ritual (so ‘70s), a loooong one, to the mix before the real action kicks in.

As expected, women are the main target in this London-based flick, and thank goodness for that, for it sure wouldn’t be the same without them. Brunettes, blondes, redheads… all ripe and veined-ready to be Dracula’s next meal. Speaking of redheads, the film greatest moment has got to go to Patsy’s… huh…Joanna Lumley’s encounter with the vampire babes in the mansion cellar. One is chained to the wall, wearing little as possible, while others are emerging from their respective coffins. They all want a piece of La Lumley (and with good reasons; she’s a babe after all) but she’s soon saved by her grand papa Crushing and his associates… Four words to that: damn them to hell! But seriously, behind all of this would-be girl-on-girl action sequence exists an apparent feeling of dread, one that can only be captured by the keen eye of the director himself. If only there had been more of the same during the film almost 90 minute run…

Of course it all comes down to a big battle of the fittest between our two main stars while unconscious Lumley just lie there hoping to get saved once again. Will she ever be? Let’s just say that, supposedly, her character is absent in the next film. Perhaps she’s undead, perhaps she’s still alive. One thing’s for sure, though: the film would not have been the same without her pre AB FAB participation. And for that, a simple Right, cheers, thanks a lot is in order.

You can get a hold of COUNT DRACULA AND HIS VAMPIRE BRIDE by purchasing Mill Creek Entertainment movie sets.

　

Until next post—Martin

BARBARA STEELE DOUBLE BILL: “NIGHTMARE CASTLE” AND “THE GHOST”

Oh those bad people in vintage horror films, always trying to con their spouses. In the 1965 low-budget NIGHTMARE CASTLE (the first of two DVD titles from EastWest Entertainment), money is the main reason. And to attain it, Paul Muller has to get rid off Barbara Steele—until the dashing doctor in her care (she is fragile, don’t you know) tries to come to her rescue. That’s about the premise of this gothic black and white period piece that is a fine time waster with lots of atmospheric shots and eerie music. The girl trap in a haunted mansion gimmick does work to its advantage and there are some scenes of genuine creepiness, but as a whole things tend to be a tad repetitive. Still, all is well with the actors and the direction, so you may find yourself enjoying it more than I did.

　

Then in the 1963 THE GHOST (another period piece), Barbara Steele is at it again, this time playing the vilainess who wants to off her invalid husband for his fortune; and in living colors, no less. With he help of her lover Peter Baldwin—her hubby’s doctor—she sets the wheels in motion and ultimately lives to regret it. What’s good about this film, when overlooking its similar plotline, is the way all is played out: From the multiple ghostly apparitions to the creepy sound of one’s music box, everything is old school horror. But what stands out most is how more effective the direction in this one is. Style and scares have never been this much fun, I’m telling you. You may even catch yourself re-playing Steele’s on-screen big emotional breakdown à la PSYCHO (with the brutal swerving of a razor blade and everything). Definitely the strongest of the two films.

　

　

Until next post—Martin

　

　

GOOD AGAINST EVIL & THE SEVERED ARM

Being a B-movie fanatic, you can imagine I’ve seen my dose of shlocks. Some were indeed dreadful, but some were well worth the effort, like this two 'barely know70s flicks. First up is the  supernatural TV movie of the week GOOD AGAINST EVIL (1977) starring the late Dack Rambo and a slew of well-known faces from the big or the small screen (Kim Cattrall, Richard Lynch…). To say this one is compelling would be a lie. Unintentionally funny is more like it. From first reel to last, Rambo and co. serve up the high jinx with all sorts of stupid moves, lame brain decisions in improbable, jaw-dropping situations. The story (if there is one) is simple enough. It revolves around the child of a devil worshipper, who, now grown up and working in a San Francisco dress shop (where there are no gay co-workers in sight !), just can’t seem to keep a good man down. Two words for that problem: San Francisco. Anyway. Unbeknownst to her, she is being offered to Satan who has a thing or two up his horns. While you don’t ever see The Beast in person you do see a ton of so bad it’s so good moments that the film becomes in a way almost as lovable as our next feature.

　

 

Produced in 1973, THE SEVERED ARM is the strongest of the two. It stars a bunch of unknowns (TVs THE WALTONS John Crawford and ALICE Marvin Kaplan being the most recognizable faces) who, after being saved from a collapsed mine and having almost come to eating one of their own (hence the title), start being knocked off one by one à la FRIDAY THE 13TH. This one does not play for laughs and is relatively well-made, even though some of the kills could have been better-handled (I’m thinking of the elevator scene, mostly), but in general the outcome is rather fetching. And the climax regarding the identity of the killer, though clearly evident, is still chillingly effective. We’re dealing with pros, and it shows. Why didn’t writer director Thomas S. Alderman ever continue on making films is a mystery. But I urge you to see his flick if you dig low-budget, unknown little Grindhouse gems.

　

Until next post—Martin

 

THE WOMAN: The Film AND The Book

　

Last summer, during the annual Fantasia Film Festival craze here in Montreal, I missed the opportunity of seeing Jack Ketchum and Lucky McKee’s highly controversial movie THE WOMAN. Like everyone else, I had witnessed the infamous video featuring one man’s rant over the film content during Sundance, and to tell you the truth, nothing about it surprised me. Anyone who has ever read Ketchum knows what he or she is in for. Obviously, this man had never heard of him, for he would have chosen not to make a fool out of himself like he did. As for I, missing this highly sought-after film event was really a bummer, but work schedule interfered and, try as I did, I couldn’t get out of it. And, besides, it wasn’t like I would never see the film again. I could always catch it on DVD, or better yet, wait for the film wide theatrical release. For surely it would grace our big screens very soon, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it?!

　

Well, as it turned out, the outcome was far from what I expected. It took me the longest time to finally get the chance to see the film. And the reason? Simple: I live in Canada. Indeed, my own hometown—which had so prided itself for showing THE WOMAN before many others just last August—failed to be selected for the film’s limited release this time around. I was floored. Literary floored. Couldn’t walk for days. No, just kidding. Let just say I was miffed. But being the trooper that I am, I took the time instead to read the novel upon which the film is based. I love doing that; you know, comparing the written words to the actual movie adaptation. Since Ketchum did both jobs on THE WOMAN (along with McKee, who, as you all know, also directs the film), I was even more intrigued.

　

Before getting to the movie, let me just say that THE WOMAN ended up being at the top of my list for the best reads of 2011. How’s that for a little book that could (barely over 200 pages), huh?! Yes, I concur, it might have been a slow year for horror in print (at least for me), but THE WOMAN definitely put the genre back on my map. The way both authors succeeded in fleshing out their characters while mixing dread with violence made my nerves stand on end. Being the second sequel after OFF SEASON and OFFSPRING you’d think Ketchum would run out of steam. No siree. THE WOMAN is fresh, disturbing, and very well-written, I might add. Yes, the story could have done without the unnecessary epilogue, and the overall presentation sometimes do feel like a written script. But as a whole THE WOMAN sure kicks ass, I’m telling ya.

　

And the movie adaptation? Even better. From first reel to last I was caught up again into the story of a troubled family man capturing a cannibal woman from the wilderness to tame her and make her his own, even though I already knew more or less of the outcome. But seeing it all, moving and shaking up there with all those great actors was definitely icing on the cake. It made me realize yet again how much I dig this type of horror. You know, those films or books that send shivers down your spine while making you think about important stuff like human behavior and how screwed up the world really is underneath its cookie-cutter facade. Pure gold, dear readers, pure gold.

　

And now the big question: does THE WOMAN really carry a misogynistic message? At face value, it probably does, but when you scratch the surface a little, you soon realize that the problem goes way deeper than that, to the beginning of civilization perhaps. Whether you agree or not with this is up to you. But one thing’s for sure, THE WOMAN is one hot commodity. I urge you to see it. Heck, read the novel first if you prefer. But just do it. You’ll thank me again later, I promise.

　

THE WOMAN movie has moved on to the DVD market from The Collective (with Bloody Disgusting Selects); while you can catch the novel wherever books are sold.

　

Until next post—Martin

FRIDAY THE 13TH PART 2: MY FIRST

Aside from the many glittery, not to mention very sleazy, films I dissect with love every week on my other blog, I also have the strongest view regarding horror movies. I fancy every type of horror but mostly the slasher genre. It all started with a little film called FRIDAY THE 13th PART 2 which I saw at the young age of 15 in a darkened movie theater in the spring of 1981. Yes, the film was rated R, meaning no one under 17 was allowed, but I had managed to sneak in, to the delight of my best friend at the time who also desperately wanted to see the flick (with whom I also went to see X-rated movies sporadically, but that’s a whole different topic in itself). Suffice to say, my life as a horror enthusiast really began that faithful day.

Now, I sure  as heck don’t need to recapitulate the film since the entire world knows all about Jason and the fate of the many camp counselors who have crossed his path. The only thing I’m going to say about the plot of FRIDAY THE 13th PART 2 is that, although very cliched even back then, it was all new to this teenager innocent eyes. Indeed, for the first time there I was, thanks to the keen direction of Steve Miner, at camp Crystal Lake with an axe murderer at my heels (because even then I could put myself in the characters’ shoes) and I was digging it like you wouldn’t believe. And not any axe murderer, mind you, but the one that would later become the baddest of them all, Jason Voorhees. Remember, it took another sequel for him to don the hockey-mask and become the anti-hero he is known to be today. So in this one, he was just a one-eyed burlap sack wearer Mongoloid who was avenging his cuckoo mom for her untimely death by offing the same people who had killed him.

What?!! Come again?!!! The same people who had killed him?! In a way, yes. Think about it: Pamela Voorhees was slaughtering camp counselors in the original film because years ago some other counselors had not taken proper care of her sick child who had accidentally drowned in the lake (in other words they were having sex while the kid was going under). After slicing and dicing horny teenagers, she ended up being beheaded herself by the strongest and purest teen of them all, Alice. Then, five years later, supposedly dead Jason takes over his mom’s workload (for part 2) by first, killing our sweet Alice who, frankly, was still lost in wonderland after the brutal attacks, then by continuing the bloody rampage just for the vengeance sake of it; a mother and son behavioral pattern passed on from one generation to the next.

After spending an hour and a half enjoying some gruesome killings while being scared out of my wits, I desperately wanted to check out the original movie on which this sequel was based, but remember, DVD players were nonexistent in those days, as were VHS recorders. Well, not exactly; we, the population, knew of them but barely could afford one since a single machine cost around 700 to 1000 dollars in Canadian money. But a streak of luck came my way during the summer of that same year. I was hired at Canada Post as a letter handler (putting envelopes into the right zip code box) and made enough money to purchase a Beta VCR system, the black sheep answer to the VHS player. Naturally, I was ecstatic as you can be, as well as being the neighborhood star for owning the first video cassette deck. Needless to say, I was not alone when I rented and watched the original FRIDAY THE 13^TH.  But sadly, as my friends could still attest, I came away rather disappointed by the Sean S. Cunningham film. To me, it didn’t hold a candle to the kick ass sequel.

Of course, that was way before FRIDAY THE 13TH began to grow on me, years before I came to put it up there with the best of them. You could say that maturity has something to do with it, as well as my love for anything grade-B of the late ‘70s early ‘80s. But back then I did think the pacing and the acting were a little off compared to its sequel. And to tell you the truth, I still think the same today. But I also know that however amateurish it appears to be sometimes, the overall effect is quite impressive. Because, yes, with all its apparent faux pas, FRIDAY THE 13TH still manages to sparkle due to its effective on-screen dread and overall special FX. And, because of those, every year like clockwork I pop in my DVD disc and enjoy the film for what it is and not for what it should be.

Like I said in an earlier post regarding one cinematic production, they sure don’t make them like that anymore, and it’s a shame. Oh, many have tried, but no one achieved the apogee of success and likability as Cunningham did with FRIDAY THE 13TH. And even if FRIDAY THE 13TH PART 2 is a lot better in the look, acting and pacing departments, both films are major influences in what would later be known as the heydays of the slasher genre, a genre that will forever stay dear to my heart, as it made me what I am today; and for that I will eternally be grateful. So here’s to you, Mr. Cunningham and Mr. Miner for introducing me to the Voorhees clan and their sickening ways.


Until next post—Martin