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Great Pumpkin

Monster Mash: Tribute To Ishiro Honda

Possibly the greatest publicity photo of all time.

If you’re in or around the Bay Area, you should definitely pit-stop at the fantastic Other Cinema for a night of kaiju monster madness courtesy of OTAKU publisher Patrick Macias and the expert August Ragone, who’ll be presenting media context for Toho’s eternal film estate of sci-fi creature destruction and their directorial maestro, Ishiro Honda. Then a wonderful showing of WAR OF THE GARGANTUAS (1966), my personal fave non-Gozilla monster epic. All this and sake too! You know the other Giants are going to win anyway…

Trick Or Treat

This may be too terrifying for home viewing. You have been forewarned:

Friday Shock Song: The Cramps

Our last Official Shocktober tune — no tears children of the night! — and the honor goes to Sacramento’s own, The Cramps, the best horror punkabilly band of all time. There shall be no argument. Here’s the band in a cool out-take from URGH! A MUSIC WAR performing “I Was A Teenage Werewolf.” Lux Interior RIP.

Netflix Screaming Theatre Vol. 2

To lead us proper to the end of SHOCKTOBER, here’s another scary-go-round from the Netflix Streaming vaults. I’m happy to say that Netflix has definitely kicked up its genre heels, bringing in a coffin-load of cult and classic films for your home viewing terror. More importantly, many of these are titles from the 1960′s-80′s that have NEVER seen DVD release (among dozens of other incredibly rare films that will have me busy for about a month), so take cinematic advantage!

THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH (1964) – Absolutely Roger Corman’s best AIP Edgar Allen Poe adaptation, bolstered by a literate Charles Beaumont script and Nicholas Roeg’s fantastic cinematography. Of course, Vincent Price is in top malevolent form as Prince Prospero, a cruel taskmaster who fiddle and abuses while his towns burn with plague. There are many striking images and scenes, particularly the multi-colored rooms of the castle and the fiery comeuppance of a sleazy nobel. Jane Asher makes a fetching innocent villager who Prospero attempts to corrupt among his vassals to the envy of Corman regular, Hazel Court. The most interesting subplot and character outside Prospero involves the dwarf Hop Toad and his lovely bride Esmeralda: Skip Martin’s dynamic portrayal of the proud, crafty minion and his well-deserved vengeance elevates the story’s pulp foundation as Martin almost steals the film from Vincent Price. I’ve always admired Corman’s rhythmic direction and widescreen framing, along with an always roving camera. A must see classic, especially with Netflix providing an excellent transfer.

THE VAMPIRE LOVERS (1970) – This Hammer hit helped introduce the hitherto dormant Lesbian Vampire genre gene, courtesy of your friends at Hammer Studios, natch. Though somewhat genteel on the stone surface, Hammer did add a whole new realm to lovers of fantastic cinema, namely sex and violence. By the end of the decade, the films were dimming in popularity and they were running out of steam on their Dracula series, but there was still life in this old studio. Directed by the late Roy Ward Baker, starring Ingrid Pitt in a re-working of the famed “Carmilla” by Sheridan Le Fanu, Pitt was catapulted to global femme fatale status with her memorable performance as the deadly, empathetic vampire queen. The film is awash in gothic blood and bosoms, and though Baker wasn’t a fan of the film, he lends it a stately style. Peter Cushing was added at the last minute for the wonderfully garish finale. The uncut print looks great, likely taken from the MGM remastered DVD.

SUGAR HILL (1974) – Still yet to find DVD release, I’ve wanted to see this AIP voodoo-blaxploitation mashup ever since I first saw the review in “The Monster Times” — the poster and trailer promise you a soul feast of epic proportions: “Meet SUGAR HILL And Her Zombie Hit Men!” The story deals with the title character seeking vengeance on the gangsters, led by short-lived horror prince Robert Quarry, who killed her man. Sugar (the able Marki Bey) seeks out the help of her grandmother, the local voodoo priestess. She in turn summons the demonic Baron Samedi (Don Pedro Colley) and his zombie cohorts, who rise from the grave in probably the most effective scene. Sadly, the film can’t live up to its wild premise, and Paul Maslansky’s direction would barely pass muster for a TV cheapie film with its abundance of low-angles. And no movie about Sugar Hill And Her Zombie Hit Men should be rated PG. Still, it’s definitely worth a roll of the bones.

AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON (1981) – You wanna see something really scary? Try to watch the Netflix Streaming transfer for one of the top tier Wolfman films in the canon — I’d place this in a tie with THE HOWLING (1980) and a notch below THE WOLFMAN (1941) and above CURSE OF THE WEREWOLF (1961) and THE MARK OF THE WOLFMAN (1968). If you don’t drool over the concept of our monstrous full-moon brethren, give up your horror card. John Landis understood, having written the script after working as an extra on KELLY’S HEROES (1970) in Yugoslavia. He wasn’t able to make this unusual horror-comedy until his huge success with KENTUCKY FRIED MOVIE (1977) and ANIMAL HOUSE (1978). The story of two amiable wayward Yanks who end up on the wrong side of the moors, David Naughton and Griffin Dunne prove a fine pair and have great chemistry. The opening credits over Bobby Vinton’s “Blue Moon” is one of my favorite in any genre, setting up the ominous comedic content of the film, adding to the undertone of tragedy inherent in the tale. Jenny Agutter is her usual sexy wonderful self and Rick Baker provided the awesome make-up effects, the first to be rewarded with an Academy Award. I particularly love Dunne’s rotting talking puppet corpse, featured in an unusual LIFE magazine spread among other bloody images that caused an uproar from the readers. Too bad the infamous cut “Hobo Attack” scene has been lost from the vaults. Unfortunately, this is a scary excuse for a screaming print, stick to the DVD/Blu-ray moors, my friend…

THE GHOST & MR. CHICKEN (1966) – What can one say about Don Knotts? An electronic folk hero via “The Andy Griffith Show” during his multiple Emmy-award winning stint as the bumbling cocksure Barney Fife, Knotts was adopted by Universal Studios for a string of five films of varying quality and success. The only consensus is that this is easily his best, most beloved movie and stands the test of time and generations. Knotts plays Luther Heggs, a small-town wannabe reporter who uncovers strange goings-on at a local haunted house (actually home to the “The Munsters”) and must prove his mettle by spending a night in the spooky haunt. The plot is as light as the scares, but the script is surprisingly funny and there are hilarious bits that sneak up on you. Knotts’s nervous speech to the town after he’s declared a local hero is probably the high point of his film career — along with the famous repeated shout-out, “Atta boy Luther!” Special mention must go to Vic Mizzy’s unforgettable organ theme which dominates the action and caps the film with a great goose-pimply final shot.

DON’T LOOK NOW (1973) – Like I admit, I have cine-gaps. This has been on my radar since it came out, though I stayed away from it for many years. I had read about its frightening nature but I managed to actually avoid reading any details about the plot or shocks — though I did know there was a famous love scene between Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie. I’m glad to have finally seen this Nicholas Roeg proto-giallo based on a Daphne De Maurier story and can report it is indeed an intense viewing experience, if not as scary as I had projected. The story of a couple who are haunted by the spectre of their drowned daughter — in apropos Venice — Roeg uses his patented time-shifts to create unease and obfuscation (along with the wonderful sex and post-sex scenes). Sutherland is quite good at his low-key height and his denial at the unfolding mystical events adds to the tension. If there were a few spectacular murder scenes and an Ennio Morricone score, this would be the greatest film Dario Argento never made.

FRIGHT NIGHT(1986) – I saw this opening weekend at a Saturday matinee, easily one of the best movie-going experiences of my life. This is probably my favorite vampire film and there’s a few good reasons for that. Writer/director Tom Holland knows his genre and you have to love a creature feature starring Roddy McDowall as Peter Vincent, a former vampire-killer movie hero turned fading TV horror host. Throw in a sincere teen hero who discovers his new neighbor is in fact a bloodsucker, played with icy, sardonic sensuality by the underused Chris Sarandon, and you have a minor 80′s classic. Directed with style and energy, Holland gives us a fun rollercoaster ride with plenty of visual viscera. McDowall gets the best role of his late career and his transformation from weak host to strong protector is the heart of FRIGHT NIGHT. The scene where he watches Evil Ed (the unique Stephen Geoffreys) writhe in pain as he transforms from wolf to boy is beautifully acted and realized. The whole thing has a wonderful old-school feel mixed with modern trappings, including the terrific make-up effects by Richard Edlund featuring the best movie vampire bat ever. I wish I could transmute my giddy pleasure in the theatre matinee at the film’s penultimate moment, when Jerry Dandridge steps out to the top of the gothic staircase, peeling the wood with a sharpened finger and then leans back to announce to the vampire hunters below, “Welcome to Fright Night…For real.”

NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD (1967) – Is there something I could possibly add to the critical white noise surrounding George A. Romero’s masterpiece, one of the most influential films in any genre? I can only say I still consider NOTLD the scariest movie of all time and even the commercials terrified me as a child. Romero’s black and white documentary style adds to the unsettling nature; the fact that there are no stars, and by the end, no hope, only increases the horror. Culturally, NOTLD perfectly reflects the violent, paranoid landscape of 1968, the most turbulent year of the decade. The chilling end credits are pure pop-art nightmare, symbolic of a nation eating itself. As fer the Netflix Streaming, this is a true zombie print, worn and faded as befits its copyright-free origin. Yeah, it’s all messed up. Shoot it in the head and resurrect the superior Image DVD.

BLOOD AND ROSES (1960) – I must bow to Netflix for adding this and other long unavailable titles to the screaming queue. Another version of “Carmilla,” this time directed by Roger Vadim and starring Mel Ferrer, the story is set in jet-set France but moves to the gothic countryside to involve us in the vampiric tale. A more low-key and dreamy approach to the genre, Vadim shows more erotic style and restraint here than in his later films, with Claude Renoir providing the bright cinematography. The film’s highlight is a dreamy sequence reminiscent of Franju and Cocteau, with gray masked women in red gloves attending to a spread-eagle victim on an operating table. It’s hard to not see how Bava, Argento and others would have been influenced by this interesting film that might be Vadim’s best. This is certainly worth a look and hopefully will released in a proper re-mastered version from Paramount’s bulging vault…

RAW MEAT (1972) – Originally released under the more subtle and fitting DEATHLINE, this unusual, unnerving chiller deals with a cannibalistic human underground dweller left behind from World War II in the London tubes. Written and directed by Gary Sherman (the amazing VICE SQUAD), this is about another kind of descent into the bowels of the city. Starring Donald Pleasance in a lively role as a wry inspector searching for missing persons, and Christopher Lee in a droll cameo, the story intercuts between the police on the prowl, a pair of unlikeable leads, and our CHUD, well-played with sympathetic horror by Hugh Armstrong. This is a rather strange film, and the humor is as tart as the as shocks, of which there are a few. What makes the film just miss classic status is that there doesn’t seem to be a central metaphor for what the subway cannibal represents to the aboveground world outside of avarice. Nevertheless, this is a brisk, well-directed, thoughtful shocker of the period (with a funktastic title theme), and a stunning seven minute 360 degree tracking shot into the dank, bloody underground lair that would have made any director jealous. Edgar Wright even briefly tributes this film in his DON’T short for GRINDHOUSE. You figure out where, guv. Mind the doors.

The Green Slime Are Here!

Yes! Praise be to Warner’s Archive for unleashing the long overdue widescreen version of the notorious MGM/Toho 1968 monsterpiece, THE GREEN SLIME. Directed by Kinji Fukasaku (BATTLE ROYALE), the film posits “what if” a slimey horde of tentacled alien invaders took over a space station? Starring the gallant trio of Robert Horton, Richard Jaeckel, and va-va-voom Luciano Paluzzi, this is one of my favorite late-night creature shows featuring one of the greatest theme songs of all time (apropos titled THE GREEN SLIME and even released on a 45!) and one of the precursors to ALIEN (1979). Also inspired the classic TSR board game, THE AWFUL GREEN THINGS FROM OUTER SPACE…

Creature Cards

In 1973, bouyed by the television success of horror/monster films, Topps released the popular “Creature Feature” cards replete with their famous brittle pink gum. I LOVED these cards and collected them a religiously as I did “Wacky Packages.” The black and white cards featured cool images and funny captions. There’s little to compare to that youthful feeling of delicious anticipation as one slowly peeled the glossy package open, a mini-version of Charlie Bucket searching for monster golden tickets…

A Message From Silver Shamrock

Forgotten Films: The Incredible Melting Man (1977)

One of the all-time great exploitation titles deserves an all-time great exploitation film. And this comes within dripping distance. I remember the rather scary ads for this on various late-night TV haunts, and being a young fan of Rick Baker whose work here was featured on the 145th cover of “Famous Monsters of Filmland,” I knew there was only one reason to see this — as did AIP who fashioned the old-school 1950′s “horror creature” campaign around Baker’s awesome make-up. Imagine a time when Baker alternated between OCTOMAN, THE EXORCIST, SQUIRM, STAR WARS and THE INCREDIBLE MELTING MAN. His work is fantastic as usual, with an iconic oozing creation and hard-gore effects. I wonder if the success of Mattel’s “Slime” toy influenced the production’s genesis…The film wastes no time getting to the point as astronaut Steve West (Alex Rebar) is given only moments of screen empathy before turning into a rampaging monster. Allegedly, Rebar refused to wear Baker’s more gruesome appliances. I love that Rebar is credited solely as “The Incredible Melting Man” right after the title.

A definite product of its drive-in era, the script is rife with classic bad lines (“Don’t quote me, but this was no animal attack” and “Oh God…it’s his ear”) and surreal moments (an attack followed by a character saying, “My wife is pregnant again”). The lead in search of the Melting Man, Dr. Ted Nelson, might be the most inept scientist in movie history — especially when he tries to halt the police from shooting by yelling, “I’m DR. TED NELSON!” Some scenes are pitched so campy that you can’t quite believe writer-director William Sachs wasn’t giggling behind the camera (which didn’t stop this from being a MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER favorite). Of course, the most memorable shot is a slow-motion severed head floating downstream — which drops over a waterfall and explodes onto a rock. You also have to dig the brief “Melting Man-Cam.” And if that hasn’t sold you, how about an appearance by the legendary Rainbeaux Smith and Jonathan Demme? There’s even a geiger counter! Incredibly…this notorious 70′s goo-fest gem is unavailable on DVD (except in Germany) but can be seen now on Netflix Streaming in a terrific MGM-remastered print. Believe it or not, this was my first viewing, bringing my genre life to some sort of horrible full circle.

Shocktober Saturday Nite Movie

Friday Shock Song: Screamin’ Jay Hawkins

Screamin’ Jay first penned this classic song way back in 1956, a massive popular blues hit that led to his onstage spooky persona and a whole new career (he had intended to be an opera singer). Jim Jarmusch brought him to hipster notice by putting him in his best film, MYSTERY TRAIN (1989) and Hawkins went on to tour with bands like The Fuzztones, covering songs by Tom Waits and others while still keeping up his voodoo stage theatrics. I had the pleasure of seeing this legendary spectral unclassifiable figure in a Paris niteclub a few months before he passed onto his next realm, and I have no doubt he could pop up anytime…

Hey Jack Keourac…

Celebrate the Bard of Beat Americana October with a beer and a walk through the autumnal memory of DR. SAX…

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Schlocktober!

John Landis made his first film when he was 21 for 60 grand, a parody of TROG! which had offended Landis with its genre stupidity. SCHLOCK had a fantastic promotional campaign that I fondly recall, especially the ads with Rick Baker’s awesome Schlockthropus holding out his paw under the words, “Due to the horrifying nature of this film, no one will be permitted to enter the theatre.” Jack Harris distributed the movie in 1973, which got Landis some attention as a young filmmaker (when that was a rare thing) and even a spot on Johnny Carson. The Zucker brothers saw this spot and approached Landis about making a feature based on their Kentucky Fried Theater troupe…SCHLOCK has the physical humor often associated with Landis, reflected in his love of genre films (no wonder given Forrest Ackerman’s cameo) and he in fact assays the titular neanderthal — and gives a BRILLIANT pantomime performance, particularly when the blind girl he loves plays fetch with a stick. The cine-angels at Anchor Bay released SCHLOCK in a nicely remastered DVD in 2001, replete with extras worth your while. Or as we like to say, See You Next Schlocktober!