Category: General Horror

WER (2013). Writer/director William Brent Bell is notably loyal to the world of horror even if some of his efforts (THE BOY, ORPHAN: FIRST KILL, LORD OF MISRULE) are more successful than others (THE DEVIL INSIDE, BRAHMS: THE BOY II). His stark, nearly documentary-style exploration into the world of lycanthropy entitled WER, though under-seen, could very well be his most impressive movie to date. A.J. Cook (FINAL DESTINATION 2, NIGHT SKIES) stars as Kate More, a defense attorney who discovers that nothing she studied in law school could have prepared her for the hairy pitfalls of having a werewolf (towering hirsute Eagles of Death Metal bassist Brian Scott O’Conner who is his own special effect and gives off worrisome George Eastman (THE GRIM REAPER, ABSURD) vibes) as a client. Easily one of the most convincing representations of a werewolf ever put to film, Bell’s grounded in reality vision is a breath of fresh, feral air that delivers believable, sympathetic characters confronted with startlingly credible (and highly rewindable) savagery.

HOWL (2015). Directed by Paul Hyett, the mastermind behind the creature effects in THE DESCENT, this wild and original ride impresses with inventive monster design, atmosphere to spare and an irresistible premise involving a werewolf outbreak on a train. Ed Speleers stars as ineffectual train guard Joe Griffin who takes over a late night shift for a sick co-worker in order to spend more time with his secret crush Ellen (Holly Weston). Unfortunately, the evening is far from the routine ride he expects as the train is derailed in the woods and efforts to get the excursion back on track are doused when passengers and employees alike begin to come down with extremely contagious cases of sharp toothed, razor clawed, glowing-eyed werewolfery (that could very well have been inspired by Lamberto Bava's DEMONS (1986)). Does Joe have what it takes to step up to the plate and deal with pestering passengers, rampant paranoia, a bullying coworker begging for a comeuppance and a slew of ever multiplying marauding beasts? The answer is surprisingly satisfying and goes far to ensure that this exceptional monsters run amuck flick always keeps you on your toes and assuredly differentiates itself from the pack.

Horror-meister Wes Craven’s high profile werewolf tale CURSED was rightfully panned by critics and generally shunned by audiences upon release. The movie about orphaned siblings Ellie (the always reliable Christina Ricci) and Jimmy (the always twitchy Jesse Eisenberg) dealing with a rash of Hollywood set werewolf attacks truly feels cobbled together from spare parts and reeks of murky logic, hesitant storytelling and crippling indecision (and ALL blame for the film’s inadequacies can be laid in the mammoth lap of sloppy saboteur Harvey Weinstein who notoriously threw wrenches into the flick’s machinery at every turn). Still, if you can squirm past the movie’s plethora of faults, it has an amazingly game cast (particularly Ricci, Milo Ventimiglia and an outstanding Judy Greer), pretty decent (when not sullied by CGI) monster effects (you haven’t lived till you witness a werewolf defiantly flipping the bird) and more than a few clever lines (care of SCREAM scribe Kevin Williamson). It’s a true crime that CURSED is never given the space or freedom to stand as the potential werewolf epic it might have been but it’s not without its fuzzy charms and if nothing else, it has at least morphed into an interesting time capsule over the years. Just make sure you watch the unrated version to squeeze as much blood from this messy but strangely entertaining misfire as you can.

LATE PHASES: NIGHT OF THE LONE WOLF (2014). As a rule one should watch anything that stars Nick (STAKE LAND) Damici because he could possibly be the coolest guy on earth and is the obvious heir apparent to Charles Bronson. In LATE PHASES he portrays a blind Vietnam vet with an adorable seeing eye dog who must contend with a werewolf in a retirement village of all places and the results are as fresh and original as they sound. Directed by Adrian Garcia Bogliano (HERE COMES THE DEVIL) and featuring a stacked cast that includes Ethan Emery (THE DEVIL’S CANDY), Lance Guest (HALLOWEEN II) Tom Noonan (MONSTER SQUAD) Rutanya Alda (AMITYVILLE II: THE POSSESSION) and Tina Louise (THE STEPFORD WIVES), this is one werewolf tail that delivers not only suspense, scares and and an impressive looking beastie, but a contrasting dose of touching family drama as well.

THE WOLF OF SNOW HOLLOW (2021) Jim Cummings wrote, directed and stars in this exceptional werewolf film that features stellar acting, crisp cinematography, superior effects and most importantly (for me), plenty of snow. John Marshall (Cummings) is a small town cop dealing with multiple savage murders while juggling AA meetings, a snippy kid and an ailing father (The great Robert Forster in his final role). I’d put this inspired eighties throwback right up there with the best of the best werewolf offerings as it is legit scary, genuinely funny, surprisingly soulful (the way it links lycanthropy with alcoholism is very clever), delightfully gory and impressively crafted all around. Cummings has a hilarious manic energy, Ricki Lindhome ( who was also great in the LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT remake) brings quiet depth to her patient detective sidekick and Forster is marvelous as always. I might have tweaked its final reveal a smidge but this is a definite keeper that I look forward to watching over and over again.

BIG BAD WOLF (2006) concerns a group of partying teens who travel to a remote cabin only to be attacked by a wise cracking werewolf. Written and directed by Lance W. Dreesen this should-be cult favorite humorously combines a werewolf creature feature with concentrated slasher tropes and the results are always fun (even if Dreesen’s fireplace mantel need not worry about making space for awards). Particularly good are HALLOWEENTOWN’s Kimberly J. Brown playing against type as a rebellious Tomboy with questionable ethics and TWO MOON JUNCTION’s Richard Tyson as an abusive father with more than just a chip on his shoulder. There’s just something about a talking werewolf with a Don Rickles disposition that I find irresistible and I must applaud the incredible gift of featuring OG werewolf royalty and permanent (in my mind) Dr. Pepper spokesman David Naughton as the local sheriff. If that weren’t enough, this horror comedy carries the card of indisputable quality in the form of the TICK inflicted, ICE CREAM MAN himself, Clint Howard. Sure, one may need to suspend disbelief for full effect but BIG BAD WOLF is a fun, gory and borderline witty gem that deserves a more generous reputation.

HARD ROCK NIGHTMARE (1988) If you’re looking for a werewolf movie that features questionable eighties anthems, sub-Elm street surrealism, a slumming Troy Donahue and inexplicable behavior from all involved than have I got a movie for you. Sure, it’s a bit on the terrible side but that only makes it more fun. A young child is tormented and teased by his grandfather who claims to be a vampire AND a werewolf so naturally the kid does what any reasonable person would do and waits for gramps to fall asleep and then shoves a stake in his heart and kills him. Problem solved! Years later, the now-teenager is in the coolest band ever “The Bad Boys” and offers his dead grandfather’s remote hideaway (its referred to as a cabin but doesn’t really look like one) as a great place to practice. Before you can say “why am I watching this?” a werewolf shows up and precedes to maul and kill anyone who crosses its pissed-off path. Directed by Dominick Brascia, who played the candy bar chomping first victim Joey in FRIDAY THE 13th: A NEW BEGINNING and whose directing debut was the equally lovably confounding EVIL LAUGH (1986), this cheese filled obscurity needs to be endured by all humans who enjoy micro budgeted homegrown absurdities. Sadly, Brascia passed away in 2018 so I’ll never get to tell him how much enjoyment this nutzo flick has brought me over the years.

WOLF COP and ANOTHER WOLF COP (2014, 2017) have you covered if you’re ever in the predicament of trying to choose between watching a werewolf flick or a buddy cop movie with strong eighties vibes. Leo Fafard is perfectly cast as ne-er-do-well small town cop Lou Garou (loup-garou s French for werewolf) who innocently investigates reports of local occult activity only to get knocked out and wake up with a pentagram carved into his stomach. Not only that, he comes to learn he's developed heightened senses, quick healing powers and the nettlesome need to transform into a werewolf (though he maintains his mental faculties and Canadian police uniform). Lou, along with wacky pal Willie (FINAL DESTINATION 2’s Jonathan Cherry) and super competent partner Tina (Amy Matysio) embark on an investigation of a far reaching conspiracy involving reptilian shapeshifters who utilize black magics to secretly control the town. The film’s sequel happily offers more of the same with most of the cast returning. Rowdy, raunchy, unabashedly off-color and stuffed with over the top violence spiced with old school make up effects, both flicks are sure to beguile those who howl for schlocky shenanigans.

WEREWOLF: THE BEAST AMONG US (2012) was originally intended to be a sequel to Universal’s 2010 remake of THE WOLF MAN but when that film failed to catch the world on fire (or even make back its budget) it was scaled down and transformed into a stand alone, straight to video offering. Directed by Louis Morneau (BATS, JOYRIDE 2) and filmed in Romania, this horror action mystery hybrid boasts surprisingly slick production design, a classic, almost fairy tale setting and a welcome assembly of familiar faces that include Stephen Rea, Mia Peeples and Steven Bauer (who is definitely having a good time). There’s a nice old school Hammer-ish charm to this creature feature involving a rag tag group attempting to eradicate a vicious village stomping werewolf who can transform at will (and is very likely to be a member of the hunting party). I can’t promise that it breaks any new ground or that you’ll have any trouble figuring out who the covert antagonist is, but for a film that skipped theaters and jumped straight to the home market, it is of much better quality, and is much more diverting than one might assume.

THE UNDYING MONSTER (1942). I often see this film besmirched as a lame rip off of Universal’s wildly successful THE WOLF MAN but I think no matter what spurred its creation, it unquestionably has a vibe all its own. I was lucky enough to catch this atmospheric beautifully shot monster mystery on late night cable one night many moons ago and it really stuck with me and actually became my own “Name That Trauma” for a while (until eventually the internet came around and a google search thankfully clued me in). Although this movie can’t boast that it contains a performance as indelible and winning as Lon Chaney Jr.’s in the more popular classic, there’s no reason to throw the transforming beast baby out with the bloody bathwater. The gothic interiors, twisty cliffside exteriors and all around seductive eeriness on perpetual display in this moody (and brief at 63 minutes) foray into family curses, unexplained suicides and lycanthropic activities should appease anyone who appreciates cozy black and white horror.

1987’s THE CALLER is far beyond being a horse of a different color, this funky filly is a kaleidoscope of hues I’ve never even laid eyes on before. My biggest question may be why isn’t it much more notorious? Madolyn Smith portrays a nameless young woman who occupies an isolated cabin in the woods who is waiting for the imminent arrival of a lover. Instead, a questionable stranger in the form of Malcolm McDowell arrives on her doorstep claiming his car has broken down and that he requires the use of her phone. The two lone characters (literally the only two people in the entire film) butt heads, juggle red herrings and suspiciously dissect each other’s every word to the point where the viewer has little reason to trust either of them are who they present themselves to be. It’s basically a two character play with one fixed setting yet it is remarkably intriguing right up to the closing credits thanks to sly direction (by Arthur Allan Seidelman (astonishingly the same guy responsible for the horrendous HERCULES IN NEW YORK), an unpredictable script (by Michael Sloan, creator of THE EQUALIZER and husband to Melissa Sue Anderson), a potent score by the great Richard Band (RE-ANIMATOR) and the limitless talent of Mr. McDowell (who has rarely been better than he is here). My advise is to put a pillow on the floor in anticipation of a (literal) jaw-dropping conclusion that is so bizarre that it required the help of special effects legend John Carl Buechler to tackle it. Seriously, if anyone tells you they figured out the central mystery of this oddball oddity before it was revealed they are either lying to your face or are completely insane and should have their brain studied by science.

I may be a little too comfortable when it comes to dishing out hyperbole but I rarely use the word masterpiece if I can help it. I gotta say though, I do think WHITE OF THE EYE ( again, 1987) is a masterpiece and a genuinely fascinating work of dark art. Directed by Donald Cammell (who sadly took his own life in ’96), this is an unblinking psychological thriller like no other that boasts a truly remarkable central performance by David Keith (FIRESTARTER) with a surprisingly subtle assist from Cathy Moriarty (RAGING BULL and more importantly, CASPER). I’m talking sterling serial killer epic here folks and it’s a crying shame this fine film isn’t more widely heralded. Keith plays Paul White a sound system installer who has the curious habit of frequently being in the vicinity when a serial killer who preys upon wealthy women strikes. Moriarity portrays his wife Joan who begins to suspect her hubby may be on the down low when it comes to the act of brutally murdering women and rightfully worries for the safety of their innocent young daughter. Set in a blazing, almost unearthly Arizona and tapping universal fears of the inability to ever fully know anyone, including a loved one, Cammell’s film (which is based on the book “Mrs White” by Margaret Tracy (a pseudonym for siblings Laurance and Andrew Klaven (A SHOCK TO THE SYSTEM, DON’T SAY A WORD) is a steep, fearless nosedive into unfathomable mental depravity with richly disturbing images, a hypnotic score by Rick Fenn (10cc) and Nick Mason (Pink Floyd) and a brutal, piercing tone that’s likely to haunt you long after viewing.

Sometimes ya just gotta treat yourself to a John Carpenter film. They’re always there when you need them and PRINCE OF DARKNESS (hey, 1987 again!) is right up there with his very best. In fact, it somewhat captures various elements of some of his previous movies and swirls them together in an almost compilation mix. It’s got the building under seige dilemma of ASSAULT ON PRECINCT 13, the unknowable supernatural forces of THE FOG and the creeping paranoia of THE THING, Plus his HALLOWEEN cohort Donald Pleasence is there to help anchor it all together. PRINCE involves a group of quantum physic students who volunteer to assist their professor (BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA’s Victor Wong) in a creepy rundown church. The group, led by Jameson Parker (whose mustache makes me believe he’s a stand in for Carpenter himself) and Lisa Blount (with red hair that thankfully distances her from her role in DEAD AND BURIED which I’m forever traumatized by) discover that the church’s basement houses what appears to be a sentiment mass of green goo in a giant jar whose dad is likely Satan himself and is generally focused on contaminating any and everyone with bad skin and muck spewing demonic possession while bringing on the apocalypse. Lots of bugs, worms and Alice Cooper are also involved. What really works in this movie is the gritty, limited urban setting that feels so far away from the safety of Hollywood slickness and Carpenter’s innovative use of choppy video visuals that seemed transmitted from another movie, if not another world entirely. This is one of those rare films that truly does have the power to slip into your nightmares and infest your psyche and its gale force pessimism feels even more potent and relevant today.

My first attempt to watch the made -or-TV cats run amuck flick STRAYS (’91) starring Timothy Busfield (TRUCKS), Kathleen Quinlan (THE TWILIGHT ZONE MOVIE) and Claudia Christian (THE HIDDEN, MANIAC COP 2) was an absolute cat-astrophe. That's because all the wailing of the ornery felines within the film so agitated and alarmed my own kitties that they began to fight each other. Thus, I had to finish the film donning earphones so as not to inspire a riot. Now, usually I stay away from cat attack movies because I hate to see people off camera throwing the poor confused felines about in order to simulate their attacks (yep, I’m side-eying INFERNO as well as 1971’s BLOODFEAST aka NIGHT OF A THOUSAND CATS amongst others) but as this movie came out in the early nineties I was somewhat confident that it was made in a more enlightened era after basic animal protection laws were finally established (plus the movie was written by Hardy Boy Sean Cassidy and if you can’t trust a Hardy then who the hell can you trust?). Anywho, this jaunt is refreshingly simple (family moves into a new home and are attacked by hordes of pissed off cats), has a nice case of the zoomies (yay, only 83 minutes!) and is routinely hilarious and even somewhat cathartic (how can anyone not root for the cats to kill them all? Well, everyone except Quinlan who I have a decades long soft spot for). STRAYS may never win a best in show award but it's fun enough escapism that knows just where to scratch.

ALLIGATOR II: THE MUTATION (’91) has somehow alluded me for decades. For reasons known only to the big kahuna in the sky, it never graced the shelves of any video store I frequented or worked at (which is many). Sadly, as it turns out, I wasn’t missing much and even though this loose sequel has an impressive cast including the likes of Joseph Bologna, the perpetually lovable Dee Wallace and our super creepy old pal Richard (BAD DREAMS) Lynch, it has none of the wit, charm or cleverness of its impressive John Sayles-penned predecessor. You’d think all you’d need is a giant gator and a dark sewer and you’d be more than half way to awesome-ville but frustratingly this John (WATCHERS) Hess directed toothless dud crawls lethargically in endless circles and never gets its land legs.

RUSH WEEK (1989) is a mostly standard slasher film that made little impact when it was released at the tail end of the eighties horror boom. It’s not the most original film in the world and I’m afraid there’s a regrettable lack of bloodshed but If you are comforted by campus set slasher flicks (like URBAN LEGEND, FINAL EXAM and HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME for example) and their predictable tropes, you could do much worse. If nothing else, RUSH WEEK stirs up a pretty impressive spooky atmosphere and boasts a compelling lead in Pamela Ludwig (1979's ever awesome OVER THE EDGE). Ludwig plays perky Toni Daniels, a Nancy Drew-esque ace reporter for the college paper who attempts to figure out why so many students are inexplicably disappearing and why there is a robed figure with a giant hatchet lurking around the halls of school. You’ll surely figure out who the killer is long before poor Toni but it’s kind of fun to watch her go through the motions of looking for clues and getting herself into sticky, by the numbers situations anyway. It may do so barely, but RUSH WEEK passes the grade thanks mostly to its spirited cast (which includes a random quirky cameo from Gregg Allman of all people) and its hard to resist (for me), classic slasher stalking scenes.

I wasn’t too impressed with AMERICAN PSYCHO when I saw it in the theater way back in 2000. Maybe it was the early scene depicting the killing of a homeless man’s dog or maybe I just didn’t care to be reminded of how callous people were capable of being in the pursuit of success. Let’s face it, it was probably the ATM machine (I still want to call them MAC machines) demanding to be fed a kitten that rubbed me the wrong way and insured I’d never watch it again. But watch it again I did recently and I have to admit that it’s pretty entertaining now that the time period it is critiquing is much further away and that I finally understand that its full blown satire. In other words, when I was younger I just looked at the screen and saw the type of smug, affluent people I felt aversion toward but now I can see clearly that the writer (Guinevere Turner with the impossible task of cutting through the endless chaff in Brett Easton Ellis’ somehow popular book) and director (Mary Harron, I SHOT ANDY WARHOL) probably weren’t looking at them with admiration either. It’s actually a very funny movie (sans animal abuse) and ironically Christian Bale gives one of his most charismatic performances as a blank-eyed soulless monster who kills for sport and has cheekbones that could cut glass. The sad thing is that there are some who probably do see serial killer Patrick Bateman’s empathy deficit disorder as a strength and the clearest path to get ahead. Personally, I don’t like the guy but I wouldn’t mind bending his ear in regards to eighties pop music. We might not have much in common but we could always bond on the many musical gems Huey Lewis and the News have graciously shared with a sometimes unworthy world.

PAPERHOUSE (’88) is a haunting, visually poetic film directed by Bernard Rose who also helmed the classic stunner CANDYMAN (’92). It concerns a young eleven year old girl named Anna (Charlotte Burke) who doesn’t quite fit in at school, constantly bickers with her mom (the late great Glenne Headly) and feels abandoned by her father whose job keeps him far from home. In her alienation she takes to living inside a fantasy world that she is able to draw herself on paper and visit in dreams. There she meets a young boy with rapidly declining heath and a shadowy threatening distortion of her absentee father who stalks her and her new friend with a hammer. This movie would make a great double feature with the kindertrauma classic THE NEVERENDING STORY due to its focus on a child’s ability to use their imagination to cope with pestering issues. It also reminds me a bit of Frank LaLoggia’s brilliant LADY IN WHITE (of the same year) in the respectful way it treats the complexities of being young. With powerfully stark, dream-like images and the aid of a beautiful score (by Stanley Myers and Hans Zimmer) Rose creates a dark fantasy that ultimately takes on the difficulties of accepting loss, death and life's random cruelties in a moving, memorable way.

I’m not completely sure Oz Perkins’ new supernatural serial killer movie LONGLEGS comes together in a completely satisfying way but one thing is for sure, it’s creepy as all get out. It’s quite the juggling act to make something both so hyper-grounded that it resembles a documentary at times but also so wacked out bonkers that it borders on a deranged comedy skit. I’m not sure it even plays fair, it’s almost as if every loose end is shrugged off with explanations of unknowable dark magics at work. But in the end, the performances are so strong all around (Nick Cage delves into his deepest well of insanity, Alicia Witt goes full Margaret White and makes a strong case for award consideration, Maika Monroe oozes twitchy disquiet and Blair Underwood and keirnan Shipka deliver quality support) and the palpable tension is ratcheted up to such a degree that it’s nearly impossible to accept it as anything less than a watershed moment in the arena of conjuring dank foreboding. This is a movie that for better or worse (and the implausibilities are legion) understands pure, concrete horror, the kind that makes you want to jump out of your skin and smash an eject button.

Monroe stars as Lee Harker, a morose, “partially psychic” FBI agent determined to identify a Zodiac-like serial killer known for somehow inspiring families to kill themselves and for his impressive talent when it comes to creating life-like dolls (I know that sounds crazy but it’s all about delivering the creeps here and what’s creepier than a life-like doll?). What she discovers is not only a Satan worshiping psychopath that resembles an unholy mash-up of Tiny Tim and Mickey Rourke (Cage, barking mad and carving himself beyond legendary status) but that she herself shares a complicated (to say the least) history with the twisted, squealing, birthday-happy nutcase and that her very own habit-wearing laconic mother (Witt) is somehow entangled in the unfathomable mess as well. What follows is a singular swirling mash-up mix of police procedural and surreal, occult fever dream with traces of pure unmitigated madness that actually leaves me slightly concerned for writer/director Perkins’ mental health. In other words, me thinks he’s crazy in the coconut but hey, that’s what true art is all about and I can't help being a bit in awe.

Not everyone is going to dig this movie (the talkative woman sitting next to me certainly didn’t, she threatened to scream if things got too scary but ended up making a big show of yawning and sighing instead) but it’s hard to dismiss a movie that hits the bell of insanity so resoundingly and frequently. It’s like drowning in molten angst at times and some of the visuals are sure to remain with me for a long, long while. Some of the images (the house, the station wagon, the assorted homey/hoarder details) felt strangely yanked straight out of my own memories which fueled my apprehension even further. And again, the performances are worth the uncomfortable viewing alone, Cage’s fearless audacity is well known and documented so for me, the true stand out revelation is the outstanding Alicia Witt (URBAN LEGEND), who absolutely mesmerizes as a stoic and fiercely determined (understatement of the year) mother. Do I fully understand much of what I’ve seen and experienced while watching this dread spewing contentment annihilator? Not really, and I’m not sure it matters as the lack of logic, normalcy and sense certainly adds to the epic unease. LONGLEGS speaks the language of nightmares and it speaks it loudly in psychotic spades. It means to disturb and it instills real-deal, irrefutable fear. That’s worth a lot in my book even if I continue to (nervously) scratch my head.

The year is 1985, John Parr’s “St. Elmo’s Fire (Man in Motion)” is roaring up the charts, VHS is alive and kicking, Tipper Gore is making a hero out off Dee Snyder, Angeline is gracing billboards and the world (particularly Hollywood) is a low tech un-Disney-fied, glowing, glorious, albeit perilous place. Star-eyed Maxine Minx is trying to put her dark past (which includes both porn and murder) behind her by auditioning for the sequel to a successful fictional horror film ironically titled THE PURITAN. Unfortunately, a shadowy figure with a brimmed hat and strangle-ready gloves is trailing her every move and offing seemingly anyone who she has contact with. Maxine is still very much mirroring her previous enthralled assailant (Pearl) with her furious longing to differentiate herself from the crowd by transforming into a lauded celebrity. But of course, in the world of horror the past itself is an inescapable monster and her attempts to shine are consistently foiled not only by directors, cops and would be muggers but also memories, apparitions and disturbing nightmares. Her default position is succinctly clear thanks to a mantra she learned from her preacher father (seen briefly but prophetically on TV in the first film) “I refuse to accept a life that I do not deserve”.

Following the excellent X (2022) and its phenomenal prequel PEARL (2022), MAXXXINE, the final installment in Ti West and Mia Goth’s collaborative character study/horror trilogy has finally been unleashed upon the world. Where X took inspiration from Tobe Hooper and seventies era grind house films (the events of which are even referred to as THE TEXAS PORN STAR MASSACRE in a newspaper headline in MAXXXINE) and PEARL’s woebegone angst was draped in bright swatches of WIZARD OF OZ technicolor, the eighties set MAXXXINE (which is a direct sequel to X) heartily embraces Bava-esque giallo stalkings in a deliciously seedy (think VICE SQUAD, HOLLYWOOD VICE SQUAD, ANGEL, STRIPPED TO KILL et.al) neon strewn boulevard of broken dreams (with shades of De Palma's BODY DOUBLE (complete with randomly inserted Frankie Goes To Hollywood video) and Lynch’s MULHOLLAND DRIVE). I’ve heard rumblings that some folks feel this grand cinematic troika deserved a more sophisticated closing but I have exactly zero complaints as I’m completely helpless and awestruck with this brilliant quilt assembled from my every aesthetic fetish. I suppose there are some who can resist synth-y eighties music, video stores, phony horror movies (here’s hoping West someday makes THE PURITAN and its sequel), Satanic panic, Night Stalker hysteria, grimy peepshows, heart of gold hookers, the PSYCHO house (fresh from filming part II), Bette Davis quotes and more than one (!) reference to ST. ELMO’S FIRE but that person is not me. That person is not me by a very long shot.

Theoretically, sleaze-glitz nostalgia pandering will only get ya so far (far enough for me) but don’t fret, MAXXXINE may systematically push all the right retro chic buttons but it also boasts another mesmerizing performance from masterful Mia, a surprisingly frisky character turn from legendary Kevin Bacon, impressive supportive work by the likes of Giancarlo Esposito, Bobby Cannavale (perfectly cast to channel both Alex Rocco and Cliff Gorman) and even musicians Moses Sumner and ( a barely recognizable) Halsey. Plus, I'd say it has got plenty on its decapitated noggin’ concerning delusional exceptionalism, Hollywood corruption, the exploitation of disposable dreamers and the scorching hot hypocrisy of religion. The final act and ultimate reveal may be too easy or obvious for some but I’m rather relieved that we didn’t get a shoehorned swerve to thwart audience expectations and I believe for the triptych pieces to click together smoothy it was the natural and most honest way to go (in any case, it's exactly what I would have done). I’m only sad it’s (likely) over. Honesty, I feel privileged to have witnessed such an unprecedented artistic feat. Like the previous two films, MAXXXINE slyly uses its setting to remind us that our current culture’s mad quest for identity by way of notoriety is nothing new and yet all three sibling films remarkably retain their own unique style and view things through contrasting yet symbiotic lenses. Above all else though, this is a movie that LOVES movies in general and wholeheartedly respects the value and necessity of genre/cult films in particular. Once again, for the third time, West and Goth have created something truly special and worthy of applause.

I realize reading about the latest “game gone wrong” horror movie may be about as appealing as watching it or writing about it, so my apologies in advance. I just feel compelled to leave a written bread crumb trail for my future self because on a few occasions I have excitedly googled a movie only to find out I had written about it previously and had completely forgot about it. So here I am, leaving this flag in the sand to let myself know that TAROT though not without some merit, is mostly a vaporous generic slog. Although its plot isn’t that different from last year’s excellent (and surprisingly fresh) TALK TO ME, (not to mention jaunts like STAY ALIVE (’06), OUJIA, TRUTH OR DARE and a slew of others, including perhaps guiltiest of all, JUMANJI) this particular cursed young folk flick lacks the spark to be truly memorable.

TAROT (which is theoretically based on a non-supernatural slasher-esque YA horror novel called HORRORSCOPE by Nicholas Adams) concerns a group of pals (complete with comic sidekick) who while searching for alcohol in a rented mansion (you all can afford renting a mansion but no hooch?), discover a deck of strange, apparently hand-made tarot cards. Resident horoscope aficionado Haley (Harriet Slater) reads the group’s futures and thereby hexes them with personality appropriate tragic fates. I have to admit, I found myself a bit excited by the rogues gallery of monsters depicted on the cards as they reminded me of my boos the NEON MANIACS (’86) but sadly as groovily gruesome as the creatures may appear (hats off to the make up/effects crew) they uniformly offer only screaming close-ups as their peak intimidation which gets old and annoying fast. As a proponent of quality PG-13 rated horror and a believer in its potential effectiveness, I gotta say lack of imagination seems more the cause of the film’s overall neutered nature than its rating. On the plus side, TAROT consistently looks atmospheric n’ gothy, sports a likable enough cast and might even be a fun, rote distraction at a teen slumber party; it’s just too bad that checking the boxes and going through the motions seems to be this attractive yet vapid film’s most inescapable curse.

I’m not as devoted to Bryan Bertino’s now-classic THE STRANGERS as some. I’ve heard from many friends that it absolutely terrified them to a mentally scaring degree but for some reason a part of my brain could never fully buy what it was selling. That said, I do admit that the “because you were home” remark is one of the greatest lines ever spoken in the history of horror film. Strangely enough though, I’m absolutely smitten over its audacious sequel THE STRANGERS: PREY AT NIGHT and find its over-stylized (and then some), broad stroked neon, flippant flamboyance mesmerizing and relish soaking in its haunting, isolated late night setting and absolutely shameless indulgence in awesome eighties’ tunes. Johannes Robert’s fashionably late (10 years) follow-up rings all my bells by forcibly steering the straightforward home invasion flick into pure unadulterated cult-y slash-a-thon territory. It’s a brilliant stroke in my book that I’ll never stop applauding and what a great springboard it could have been for a third, trilogy making film that conceivably might push the artsy outlandishness even further!

Except no, as my shoelace once said “I’m a frayed knot”. Instead, the board has been erased and we’re back to square one (or perhaps zero) with THE STRANGERS: CHAPTER ONE a movie that intends to kickoff a new trilogy by covering half the ground the original did. Well, you might be saying at least the sometimes fantastic (LONG KISS GOODNIGHT), sometimes reliable NIGHTMARE 4, DIE HARD 2, DEEP BLUE SEA) but let’s face it, non-miracle worker (snooze-fest THE EXORCIST: THE BEGINNING ) Renny Harlan is behind the wheel. It’s probably too soon to say if Harlan can pull this three part serial off but as possible as it may be (isn’t my Pollyanna optimism annoying?), I’m afraid the future does not look bright so hold off on wearing those shades. CHAPTER ONE feels like a shaky, stammering, stalling lurch with close to nothing on its mind. It’s almost like a Cliff notes version of the original but with many of the already abridged pages missing. Harlan does deliver a few frightening moments but they’re sort of unavoidable in the flick’s DNA anyway. There are a few absolutely killer shots of the bag-headed scarecrow faced ringleader stalking ominous woods like a force of nature but they seem designed for T-shirts and magnets at Hot Topic more than striking genuine fear. Will I see CHAPTER TWO? Yes, of course, provided I’m alive, my curiosity will probably get the better of me but damn, even the “Because you were home” line I was pre-sold on somehow gets mangled into the mundane here.

Hey, maybe these newfangled horror movies just aren’t created with oldsters like me in mind and I should just stay home! Turns out yes, that is not a bad idea because I also recently watched 1988’s THE BRAIN and felt like a dying plant being watered. Edward (BLOODY BIRTHDAY) Hunt directed this Canadian sci-fi/horror film that stars David (RE-ANIMATOR) Gale (who once again looses his head), Tom Bresnahan (TWICE DEAD, MIRROR MIRROR and most importantly, SKI SCHOOL) and Cynthia Preston (of the excellent PIN). This baby is Christmas themed, filled with ELM STREET-style surrealism and leans into the gooey practical effects. In this fine film, a literal giant head from another planet teams up with your everyday mad scientist-type lunatic to brainwash a small-town and then eventually, the world. It’s exactly the paranoid fifties-flavored tale told through wacky eighties eyes of a malignant mutation with sights set on world domination that I guess I needed. You’re likely to observe shades of everything from THE BLOB and THE STUFF to INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS and HALLOWEEN 3: SEASON OF THE WITCH with plenty of mirroring toward TERRORVISION thrown in. Funnily enough though, I do believe I caught this movie back in my video store days and didn’t care for its goofy nature or the random flashy inserts of the titular creature who resembles a discontinued marauding Madball. In other words, giving a film a second chance sometimes pays off big time so maybe there’s stiff hope for the aforementioned recent titles TAROT and STRANGERS: CHAPTER ONE after all. You never know (Ignore that noise. I’m just trying to close on an upbeat note)!

How much fun could a movie about a group of mostly dopey criminals being trapped in a mansion with a rampaging child vampire with a penchant for ballet be exactly? Well, tons of fun, obviously. Even if done poorly, I’d venture this particular set-up is fool proof entertainment but happily in this case it is executed by folks with true love and knowledge of the genre ( Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett, the talents behind READY OR NOT and the last two SCREAM flicks) and showcases an absolute dream team cast playing characters so contrasting and sharply carved you can almost imagine them on CLUE game cards. MATILDA: THE MUSICAL’s Alisha Weir is instantly iconic as the title character, a supernatural whirling dervish that is part Rhoda from THE BAD SEED, part Pris from BLADE RUNNER and part Carol Kane in SCROOGED sans toaster. With her sly precociousness she effortlessly joins the ranks of other classic “child” vamps that floated before her (Danny Glick of SALEM’S LOT, Homer of NEAR DARK, Claudia of AN INTERVIEW WITH A VAMPIRE, et al.). She’s one of the many reasons this movie is a bloody, demonic party and a half (one scene even strongly references NIGHT OF THE DEMONS) but all involved deserve kudos (and I don't mean the discontinued granola bar).

ABIGAIL introduces us to a group of rag-tag crooks whose get rich quick scheme involves kidnapping a rich kingpin’s kid, taking her to an isolated mansion (I just love a limited location film, what better way to fully block out the outside world than to literally erase it from visual existence?) and collecting some ransom money for her safe return. What could go wrong and how could all involved possibly know Universal pictures was looking to update DRACULA’S DAUGHTER? Things go South mighty quick and soon the rat pack code-named group including level headed ex-junkie Joey (SCREAM 4 & 5’s Melissa Barrera ), conniving short fuse ex-cop Frank (THE GUEST’s Dan Stevens fresh off GODZILLA X KONG and nearly unrecognizable), wacky hacker Sammy (FREAKY’s Kathryn Newton), no nonsense marine sniper Rickles (William Catlet), sweet natured bumbling muscle head Peter (Kevin Durand) and dim-witted psycho thug Dean (the late Angus Cloud in a spot-on performance that makes you reel at the incalculable loss) are fighting for their lives against a fanged pirouetting pipsqueak with daddy issues who is immune to crucifixes, stakes and garlic (like myself, her only true kryptonite is sunlight).

ABAGAIL (much like last year’s LAST VOYAGE OF THE DEMETER) proves there’s plenty of blood left to be sucked from the archetypal vampire tale and although it’s literally explosive at times in its implementation, it works equally well as as a cozy parlor, old dark house flick complete with hidden passages and nods to “And Then There Were None”. Much of the territory may feel familiar but there’s a subterranean wild streak that keeps you on edge right up to its final enthralling surprise. As always, a good film is greatly indebted to its cast and truly, there isn’t a weak link to be found in this crew. Darkly twisted, laugh out loud hilarious, terrifically brutal and ultimately strangely endearing , ABIGAIL is a movie and a character for the ages with an unabashed appetite for horror we can all relate to.