kindertrauma

Kindertrauma Screamhouse!

Posted on By unkle lancifer

Holy crap, national SCREAM Day has arrived! I have to go see SCREAM 4's very first showing today. It's senseless for me to try and fight it. I just want it to be better than Part 3, that's all I'm asking. That's not too much to ask is it? In celebration of the opening of SCREAM 4 we have a very special ghost-face infused Funhouse! Can you guess which image is from which of the the three installments? Give it a shot! Somebody with a correct answer will be given a prize! Take your time, its not about who is first! The winner will be randomly drawn so make sure your guess is present and make sure you see SCREAM 4 so that we can talk about it later!

Traumafessions :: Reader Binrow the Heretic on Equinox

Posted on By aunt john

Hey, Unk…

After reading several Traumafessions from the 1990s recently, I figured I'd send in one from the late '70s just to help balance things out a bit. It also doubles as a personal Name That Trauma that was finally solved a few years ago.

As an easily-scared kid who watched a lot of movies on T.V., one absolutely terrifying movie (did I mention that I was an easily-scared kid in the late '70s?) stuck with me for years. I only caught the last third of it or so, and it included a bunch of teens trapped in the woods by a demonic force, talismans made out of twigs, and an almost surrealistic, shambling monster. The lone survivor gets to the car and manages to escape, only to have the steering wheel mysteriously spun out of control, causing the car to crash.

When I saw THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT much later, images from this earlier film came leaping back into my memory, but nobody I described it to had any idea what I was talking about. In the days before the mighty Kindertrauma, the internet was of no help at all in identifying it.

You've probably already guessed which movie this was, and I finally discovered the answer after Criterion released a special DVD of…yep…EQUINOX!

Kind of embarrassing to realize EQUINOX scared the bejeebus out of me back then, but such is the stuff Kindertraumas are made of. It might, however, be the reason I always felt WKRP's Herb Tarlek to be something of a tragic figure.

— Binrow the Heretic

Night Gallery Tale :: Brenda

Posted on By unkle lancifer

I just caught another NIGHT GALLERY segment that I found just as intriguing as the brilliant "Silent Snow, Secret Snow." It's not particularly scary but it ended up building a little nest of perplexed disquiet in my head anyway. It's called "Brenda" and it is the second half of the seventh episode of season two. It's based on a short story by female sci-fi author MARGARET ST. CLAIR. I point out her gender because during a time when most female genre writers hid behind gender neutral pen names, Margaret was all like, "Aw hells no!"



"Brenda" is about a fruit loop named Brenda who could write a book called "How to Lose Friends and Aggravate People." The girl is a brat, such a brat that she purposely destroys a sandcastle and not just any sandcastle, mind you, but a sand castle constructed by America's sweetheart PAMELYN FERDIN. Who the hell is obnoxious enough to do that? Brenda is, that's who! Although I somewhat hate Brenda, her zero concern about popularity and the perceptions of others I find absolutely thrilling to behold. Actress LAURIE PRANGE is way too old to be playing the part but that just makes her behavior appear more outrageously asinine and underlines the aggravated arrested development that fuels the tale.

One day while strolling in the woods and basking in her own awfulness, Brenda bumps into a creature more horrific than herself, is frightened and then profoundly captivated. In fact, she meets my all time favorite type of monster, a shambling pile of mossy tethers who skulks around like Bigfoot. I love swamp monsters! I'm not sure if it stems from the KOLCHAK "Spanish Moss Murders" episode, D&D, or SCREAMS OF A WINTER NIGHT but my admiration is such that I have painted many a portrait of these amorphous archetypal beasts. In other words, Brenda and I are remarkably on the same page at this point of the story. At first Brenda traps the creature in a giant hole and sparks a realization that everything going on here kind of resembles the Kinder-fave movie entitled THE PIT (1981). Eventually she aids in its escape and devilishly leaves her front door open so that the weird thing can follow her home and terrorize her parents in the middle of the night. Hey, I'm starting to like this girl!

After a night of wreaking somewhat passive havoc across the island community Brenda and her parents are vacationing in, the monster goes back to the pit, covers itself in a stony cocoon and hits the hay. Brenda is heartbroken by the creature's retreat and the knowledge that her family will be splitting soon and may never return. Seasons come and go, a year passes and Brenda returns more mature and less impish and scampy. You'll find no shocker twist here, just Brenda hugging the stones that represent her once animated friend and declaring her eternal love and affection. I don't know what to think except that the monster is a physical representation of the self-alienated Brenda's charged relationship with her own crazy imagination. It goes into hibernation as she becomes more adult but she is thankful and secure in the knowledge that it lies waiting if needed.

In a way I feel this entry is a perfect companion piece to the previously mentioned "Silent Snow, Secret Snow"; I can't be 100% sure about the address of its final destination but I know it's on the corner of Lonely Lane and Insanity Street. I love this type of horror/fantasy storytelling; it backs up my theory that if you want to learn what it means to be human, your best source of information is a monster.

Traumafessions :: Reader David O. on Night Gallery Pilot Tale "The Cemetery"

Posted on By aunt john

Being a child of the ‘70s and ‘80s I was raised on T.V., so plopping down in front of the tube for hours on end was nothing out of the ordinary for me. One afternoon I noticed there was a rerun of a scary movie called NIGHT GALLERY scheduled in the T.V. Guide. This was the original pilot movie, featuring one of the last performances by JOAN CRAWFORD and STEVEN SPIELBERG's directorial debut. From the get-go I knew it was possibly going to be a bit much for my seven-year-old eyes to take; the opening music, ROD SERLING's creepy voice, the paintings. But I was intrigued so I continued to watch it.

All three vignettes were outstanding but one in particular creeped me out and stuck with me through adulthood. It was entitled "The Cemetery" and featured RODDY McDOWALL as a scheming, lying, all-around loser of a nephew wanting his uncle's fortune all to himself. RODDY ends up speeding his uncle's death and ensures that he is the sole heir to the fortune, while the faithful butler (played by OSSIE DAVIS) is retained for a measly amount of cash. While enjoying his new wealth, RODDY realizes that one of the paintings on the wall of the entry hall has changed – the painting of the cemetery adjacent to the mansion. A new grave appears on the ground, which of course befuddles poor RODDY, but he proceeds to bask in his new wealth while continuing his asshole-ish ways.

But RODDY continues to see the painting change: The grave now appears disturbed, then a coffin is seen sticking out of it, then the coffin lid opens to reveal his uncle. This goes on for a while, driving poor RODDY to the brink of insanity, until he sees that the painting now shows his uncle approaching the front porch, then he's on the steps, then he's at the door. Suddenly, he hears someone -or something- knocking on the front door, wanting in.

In his freakoutedness he runs to the top of the stairs and pulls down another painting of his uncle, tripping and killing himself on the stairs. The front door finally opens, and standing there is… OSSIE DAVIS. He was responsible for the paintings changing and for driving RODDY insane. Turns out the estate would be left to him should there be no surviving heirs, and since RODDY is now worm food, it turns out to be a pretty sweet deal for OSSIE, who goes from respectable, clean-cut working man to swarthy, debonair nouveau riche HUGH HEFNER-ish cat.

However, before he can sit back and finish his brandy OSSIE notices the painting on the wall has returned. But this time it changes right before his eyes, and it's RODDY heading for revenge, not the uncle. A new grave, a coffin, RODDY's corpse, at the steps, at the door… By this time I'm nearly peeing my pants and preparing to run out of the room, just in case. As OSSIE is left screaming we see the front door open slowly to reveal… no one. The ghost of RODDY gets his revenge!

I love NIGHT GALLERY and found myself watching it often after that. All three stories in the pilot movie are quite good and worth a look, especially the one titled "The Escape Route," which deserves its own confession. After having settled down from the scare, I found myself often checking paintings throughout the house to be sure they weren't changing. But the effect this gem had on my psyche still holds solid to this day, and for that I thank Mr. SERLING. The NIGHT GALLERY pilot show is definitely worth a visit…

— David

Traumafessions :: Reader SSOD on The Waltons ep. "The Changeling"

Posted on By aunt john

As an adult, I almost cannot believe this episode went the way I remember it. I had convinced myself the doll thing never happened along with some of the other items that moved. I was really afraid after this – especially since it aired right before Halloween the year I was turning 12! I was scared the whole year this would happen to me as 13 approached!

What an odd move for a normally benign show!

— Still Scared of Dolls

UNK SEZ: SSOD, I could not agree with you more! That episode freaked me out as well. How could something like this happen on Walton's Mountain and how did Elizabeth ever get over it? This episode effected me so much that it is actually the subject of the very first Kindertrauma post HERE! Thanks for the great traumafession and know that you are not alone in your ongoing suspicion of Raggedy Ann!

Stream Warriors :: Hosted By Christine Hadden of Fascination With Fear!

Posted on By unkle lancifer

UNK SEZ: Today we have a super special guest host for STREAM WARRIORS, the fearfully fascinating CHRISTINE HADDEN of FASCINATION WITH FEAR! Not only is HADDEN knowledgeable as all get out, but she's also got something special you can't learn anywhere…exquisite taste! Honestly, I couldn't wait to see the selections she scrambled up for you guys! Let's see what she's got up her sleeve!

CARNIVAL OF SOULS is a movie that just doesn't get enough play. For some reason, it seems as though the majority of casual or budding horror fans see it is from 1962 and balk, choosing instead the latest redundant slasher extravaganza. When I first saw Carnival way back in… well, longer ago than many of you have been alive….I was blown away by the atmosphere of sheer terror that hovered over it and caused me more than a few nights lost sleep. Every time I would close my eyes I would see that ghoul's face. What ghoul, you ask? The plot revolves around a young church organist, Mary, who after a hasty joyride with friends is the sole survivor of a plunge off a bridge into a watery grave. Mary has difficulty adapting to her life after her brush with near death and moves to a new city. On the way there, she is repeatedly frightened and harassed by the aforementioned ghoul (actually the director, Herk Harvey), who seems to be following her – beckoning her to join him. Of particular note is the haunting score, with all that creepy organ music you can get a taste of in the trailer. I can't begin to express my love for this film, and I beg anyone who hasn't seen this highly influential piece of cinematic history to watch (instantly!) and learn.


So everyone has heard of Full Moon Features, right? The production company responsible for such gems as the PUPPET MASTER series and a personal favorite of mine, CASTLE FREAK – yeah, you know the name. Campy good horror by way of silly effects and at times, fairly bad acting… but I'm here to tell you, if you haven't seen SUBSPECIES, you're totally missing out. TOTALLY. First off, though it sounds like a flick about underground-dwelling mutants, it's a vampire film. Yes, you heard me. The title references the tiny stop-motion creatures who are the lead vamp's (fittingly named Radu) minions, helping him in his goal to take over his late father's kingdom. There's a whole lot of hokey to be had here – besides the ridiculous subspecies creatures, we have a trio of inane young women delving into Romanian cultures and superstitions (never a good idea!), a special stone of the blood-producing kind, a sexy half brother to Radu's profoundly unattractive mug, continual vampire clichés that never end, and Angus Scrimm in a seriously absurd white ‘fro wig. But I'll tell you what else it has. Atmosphere, and a ton of it. Filmed entirely on location in Romania, it just oozes ambiance. Dark, gothic castles, foreboding alleyways and ominous shadows abound. Combined with the over-the-top yet somehow endearing performance of Anders Hove (Radu), it's a can't miss. And guess what? It spawned four sequels. Guess what else? I own the entire boxed set!



If you are looking for some serious quality entertainment and don't mind subtitles, look no further than director Guillermo del Toro's THE DEVIL'S BACKBONE. Many people are so enamored of his better-known masterpiece PAN'S LABYRINTH that they forego this very special film. Also written and produced by del Toro and set in the late 30's, Backbone presents the story of a young boy forced into an orphanage during the Spanish Civil War. Mistakenly thinking he is only there temporarily, Carlos tries to fit in as best he can but is taunted and bullied by some of the other boys. Adding to his anxiety are the sightings of a young boy, transparent and by all accounts a ghost. The other orphans explain that the apparition is most likely Santi, who arrived about the same time that a huge bomb fell into the adjacent courtyard but didn't explode. The bomb has since been defused but like the inert shell of the explosive, Santi remains. As is per usual in most ghost stories, the specter is simply trying to obtain justice and understanding in his premature death, and the reasons that force Santi to remain at the orphanage are at the heart of THE DEVIL'S BACKBONE. Beautifully shot and truly unforgettable, this film is one of the finest ghost stories I've ever had the pleasure of watching, and there's no excuse for everyone not to see it now that it's streaming FREE.

UNK SEZ: Thanks a zillion CHRISTINE! Allow me to inform any of you horror fans out there that don't already know that every Sunday over at FASCINATION WITH FEAR you will find a great feature called SUNDAY BLOODY SUNDAY where CHRISTINE closes off the week with an assortment of gloriously gruesome images from your favorite horror films! I've made it a must see and you should too, check it out HERE!

Traumafessions :: Reader Barry on an Aussie AIDS P.S.A.

Posted on By aunt john

Hi all. Love the site. I have one traumafession I would like to share. It's a ghoulish P.S.A. with haunting imagery that has stuck with me for years.

I was watching Entertainment Tonight when it came on, back in '87. It takes place in a giant bowling alley where human bowling pins are lowered down. Then a eerie, macabre-looking Father Death grips a giant bowling ball, and knocks them all down!

Only one "pin" is left standing: a terrified mother holding a little girl in her arms. So Death flings another ball to pick up the spare.

Meanwhile a voiceover is prophesizing certain doom: "It could kill more Australians than WORLD WAR II!!!"

Luckily I was in my teens at the time, so I wasn't too scared. But I remember thinking, "Wow, this is pretty grim stuff!" For the chilling final shot, the camera pulls back revealing dozens of Grim Reapers hurling bowling balls, with lanes stretching out to infinity.

I think it was pulled shortly after broadcast. But here is the clip…

Keep up the good work guys!

— Barry

UNK SEZ: Thanks for the grim traumafession Barry! You've got a partner in misery with reader Rexx who joins you in your anguish over HERE!

Scream-a-thon!

Posted on By unkle lancifer

It's easy for me to forget how much I was rooting for SCREAM to be a success when it was released way back in 1996. I recall WES CRAVEN and DREW BARRYMORE doing the talk show rounds and I was there on opening day. I watched as it climbed the charts in ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY and its word-of-mouth staying power victory felt like a personal justification of sorts. The slasher film had finally risen from the grave just as I always hoped and prayed that it would.

One day I had to realize that the Audrey 2 plant I was pointlessly watering was towering over me. The publicity machine behind SCREAM was insatiable and ubiquitous. Eventually I awoke to every borderline personality fan boy nightmare, my lil' pet movie was undeniably and irrevocably mainstream! Worse still, it had no interest in me and my nerd-flavored goodwill; it was courting a generation younger than me right in front of my face! It was like when Marcia Brady helped that wallflower out only to have the dickens surpass and usurp her. SCREAM wasn't revitalizing my youth anymore it was pillaging it! What the hell was I getting out of this relationship? SCREAM was happy as a clam. I felt old and betrayed.

Then the wannabe clones arrived, each more vacant and dunderheaded than the last. They marched in wearing Urban Outfitter uniforms, their faces scrubbed and personality free. Smelling a market, Hollywood opened a cage and out they slinked each Friday with posters Photoshopped into oblivion with death scenes fluffier than MATLOCK. I started to hate the floozy named SCREAM, the two faced harlot, the instigator of mediocrity, the murderer of horror! Oh SCREAM, it wasn't your fault. I had no right to claim you as my own. I'm sorry that I was secretly gleeful when your third outing turned out to be lamer than even I could imagine. That was the end of the millennium. Things were different back then and I'm ashamed at how easily I had forgotten just how original and refreshing SCREAM was upon first discovery.

Sometimes you just need a little distance. You need to clean your palate. You need to let other horror cycles take hold, eclipse, turn sour and fade away. It's been a long time since I've gotten together with this past mercurial love. I think we did catch up a couple years ago and it was pleasant enough but nothing passionate. Yet there's something in the air now, is it spring? I actually do feel a kindling spark of sorts still burning for what once was; both SCREAM and I are older now. Maybe it's time for a new type of understanding to develop…

SCREAM (1996)

I have to admit this movie still has it going on in all the right places. The mystery of what's under its hood has long been discovered but the opening scene still packs a bittersweet wallop. CRAVEN does more than simply unnerve with DREW's inaugural attack, there is such a lovely tragic element to it as well. Armed with KEVIN WILLIAMS' slightly overrated, yet inarguably innovative script, CRAVEN the director is at the height of his powers. There's hardly a superfluous moment anywhere and the whole ride has a wonderfully smooth yet forceful momentum. Unlike many of its imitators, SCREAM looks crisp and clean without being too slick and losing its gravity supplying sense of the natural and every day. (Sadly director of photography MARK IRWIN and CRAVEN parted ways after SCREAM but funnily enough IRWIN did go on to do SCARY MOVIE 3.) So much of the look of SCREAM has been duplicated and parodied that it is easy to forget just how handsome a film it is. Maybe I'm just a sucker for grassy hills and sunsets.

SCREAM of course is famous for being self-referential and for pointing out at every turn the tropes and "rules" theoretically ingrained in slasher films. Personally many of the assumptions repeated about those films I find to be debatable broad clichés that limit our understanding of the genre. Having said that I think that I sometimes woefully miss the undeniable truth that SCREAM, in its heart of hearts, is a love letter and a reverent shrine to slasher movies and cinema in general and for that I want to kiss it all over its ghost mask. Really has one movie ever had a boner for another movie the way SCREAM has a boner for JOHN CARPENTER's HALLOWEEN? There's a big difference between tribute and condescension and although SCREAM's playfulness can grate at times, it's not the facetious lark I sometimes falsely remember it as. The truth is that even though it can be way too name-droppy and quipy for its own good, it does under its conventional mall-approved smile hide a genuinely perverse sadomasochistic streak.

I came away from watching SCREAM again with two major revelations: the first is that as far as "final girls" go I'm not the biggest Sidney Prescot fan. Her "sexual anorexia" and morbid martyrdom papers are in order but as portrayed by the perpetually strained NEVE CAMPBELL I find her difficult to believe and strangely unsympathetic. "I'm sorry if my traumatized life is an inconvenience to your perfect existence!" she spews and I just kind of want to wring her neck. Whereas most "final girls" have walked anonymously alone with survival their only reward, Sydney has the attention and concern of her entire community and it just kind of irks me. Plus I think partying on the one-year anniversary of your mother's brutal death is tacky. Stranger than my newfound ambivalence toward Sid is my newfound, heart-eyed affection for the refreshingly direct persona of Gale Weathers (COURTNEY COX). I'm not happy about this development either but there it is. For me, Weathers is the most entertaining character in the lot and I appreciate that her disposition atypically softens rather than hardens. I know she is supposed to be a callous careerist but at least she can finish a sentence without a pop culture reference.

Even though Sidney Prescott affection eludes me I don't have a hard time recognizing SCREAM's classic status. It sets out to turn expectations on their head and it succeeds. Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of the series is its ability to stand without a consistent killer in its spine. The monster in SCREAM is fluid, an empty shell identity that any person or persons can inhabit. While we are here, why not let us take a cursory peak at the sequels that followed…

SCREAM 2 (1997)

The opening kill in SCREAM 2, set at a premiere for a film based on the events in the first movie not only kicks the meta to a new level but perfectly captures the excitement and enthusiasm that surrounded the bourgeoning franchise at the time. I'd love to give the series some props for confronting criticisms that it presented an all white universe by including African Americans in the sequel, but since every black character shown is presented the exact same way I'm not sure I can. Be that as it may this is a sequel that does a fine enough job of transporting the working elements of the previous installment into semi-fresh terrain. There is one scene that I always dread though. I live in fear of JERRY O'CONNELL singing, "I think I love you" on the cafeteria table. It upsets me more than any death in the entire series. I find it too embarrassing to withstand and I have to look away and cover my ears. Other than that, it's mostly gravy. Sidney as "Cassandra" somehow works and I'm all about LAURIE METCALF & BUFFY. No matter its over bloated nature, I can't say this installment isn't fun.

SCREAM 3 (2000)

A huge step down for sure but I remember part three being a lot worse than it actually is. If the revelation of the killer was not so humdrum it might have been almost good. SCREAM 3 transports the action to Hollywood, which adds an alienating, navel-gazing atmosphere that the series could have done without. Cameos from the Weinstein stable in the form of Jay and Silent Bob set the tin ear tone. Dead Randy (JAMIE KENNEDY) showing up via videotape to spout complete gibberish as trilogy dogma and an initially amusing turn from PARKER POSEY that nosedives into screechy, flailing-armed stoogery don't help matters much. Ironically the strongest element may involve Sidney finally digging into the dirt of her dilemma rather than looking down at it from miles above. Again I think that the character of Gale Weathers secretly holds the shindig together and her relationship with Dewey resonates as the closest thing to known human reality in the film. At this point SCREAM seems to have lost track of its horror roots and is happy operating as an ensemble version of MURDER SHE WROTE. Guns and explosions reign supreme and you may find yourself begging for anything that even remotely resembles the inspired garage door kill from the first film.

SO NOW….

I'm totally psyched for the fourth installment. I know that may sound disingenuous after what I just said but I can't help it. I don't care that I hate and despise certain elements of the SCREAM series; for the most part it's wicked nifty and I'm now, against my better judgment, grossly invested in the characters once more. Will my tolerance of Sidney continue to grow? What the hell's going on with Gale and Dewey, I have to know! (Man, I wonder what kinda fucked up haircut Gale is going to sport this time…) I just hope that a lesson has been learned from past mistakes and from the litany of films that tried to duplicate SCREAM's initial success and failed. The blurb that seemed to attach itself like a barnacle to the poster art was "Clever, Hip and Scary!" Do me a favor CRAVEN and company, don't worry so much about those first two adjectives and concentrate on that last one. If the best scene in your entire series ends up being forever the first one I'd call that a steady downhill slide.

NOTE: Stab me if you want to but yes, I do think TORI SPELLING played a superior Sidney Prescot! I'm not proud of that admission either!

Traumafessions :: Reader Brain Katcher on Chick Tract "Holy Joe"

Posted on By aunt john

When I was very young, I found this gory war comic at my grandparents' house. I couldn't read all the words, but did get the gist: A group of soldiers locked in combat with the Japanese (in retrospect they were actually VC). The buck-toothed, rat-faced enemy guns down our heroes. In an odd departure for a combat story, the saga continues as their souls rise up to God for their final judgment.

Two panels especially frightened my young self: A picture of two soldiers' bullet-riddled corpses and a image of a soldier cradling the head of his dead companion. He was positioned in such a way that it looked like the head wasn't attached to anything.

Years later, in college, I came across the same comic. Guess what? It wasn't a comic, but a damn Jack Chick religious tract! Some might say it was even more disturbing in that light. You can read the whole thing HERE!

— Brian Katcher