The 31 Days of Halloween (2017): 10/15-10/21

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2017, 31 Days of Halloween, cinema, Clown, Dark Exorcism, Film, film reviews, films, Halloween, horror, horror films, Movies, October, Sleepy Hollow, The ABCs of Death, The Innkeepers, wendigo

Almost in time for the next installment, The VHS Graveyard now presents Week Three of the 31 Days of Halloween. We came up one film short this week but never fear: there’s still a week left until the big day and plenty of films up on the horizon. Now: kick back, grab a six-pack of blood (or diet blood, if you prefer) and journey back to the wilds of last week as we visit headless horsemen, killer clowns, vengeful ghosts and so much more…right here on The VHS Graveyard.

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Sleepy Hollow

This zippy adaptation of the classic Washington Irving story captures both Tim Burton and muse Johnny Depp at a point in their collaborative partnership where the well still felt deep and the possibilities endless. Burton is (relatively) restrained, although there are plenty of audacious and thrilling set-pieces (one wonders if the flaming windmill here inspired the similar visual in Windmill Massacre), and the material is allowed to breathe and feel much more organic than later efforts like the Alice in Wonderland films.

For his part, Depp is rather delightful, light years from his smarmy, played-out schtick of the last several years. He plays Ichabod as an eager greenhorn but stops short of playing him for a fool, ala Jack Sparrow, and his interplay with the rest of the impressive ensemble (including Christina Ricci, Jeffrey Jones, Miranda Richardson, Michael Gambon and the always awesome Christopher Walken), is as much about give-and-take as stealing the show.

If you think about it, Sleepy Hollow is the most overtly “horror” film that Tim Burton ever made: gratuitous decapitations, a (relative) lack of whimsy, heavy Gothic atmosphere, deep sense of foreboding…that’s just one Christopher Lee short of a Hammer film! In other words, perfect Halloween fare.

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Dark Exorcism

I avoided watching writer/director David Spaltro’s Dark Exorcism for one simple reason: everything about it screamed “generic possession flick” at first glance. As part of my never-ending list of 2016 horror films, however, it was going to get viewed at some point and October 2017 seemed as good a time as any. Turns out I shouldn’t have waited so long: Spaltro’s film is a real sleeper and probably the best indie exorcism/possession film I’ve seen in some time.

A non-believing grad student (Lynn Justinger) and her supernatural-debunking mentor (Fiona Horrigan) meet their match when a terrified mother (Catherine Cobb Ryan) begs for help with her tormented daughter (Grace Folsom). What first seems like a cut-and-dried haunting is revealed to be something much more sinister, requiring a little bit of the ol’ title ceremony. Will the cynical student and burned-out master have what it takes to triumph or will evil be chalking up another win?

Although it never reinvents the wheel, Dark Exorcism is also a breezy, painless experience that manages to avoid most of the pitfalls inherent in exorcism films. Much credit goes to the filmcraft: from the clever opening credit sequence to the colorful cinematography and subtle score, Dark Exorcism always looks and sounds good, even when it takes the occasional foray into the silly or insipid. It does everything that I expect from this kind of film and does it better than most of its peers: that’s good enough for me, neighborino.

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The Innkeepers

Full disclosure: I didn’t care for Ti West’s slow-burn ghost film when I first saw it in theaters back in 2011. Everything up to the finale was fine enough but the climax really ticked me off: I honestly can’t even recall my specific issue but I distinctly remember walking out irritated and let-down. It’s a feeling so strong that I completely avoided the film until this year’s 31 Days of Halloween.

In hindsight, I was wrong. There’s nothing wrong with the ending of this modest tale of amateur ghost-hunters (Sara Paxton and Pat Healy) in a haunted New England hotel. In fact, the whole film is pretty darn good, giving me another reason to like Ti West (for those keeping count, this makes the third of his films that I’ve genuinely enjoyed, right behind In a Valley of Violence and House of the Devil).

If you’re in the mood for an atmospheric, creepy and slow-paced little chiller, go ahead and check-in with The Innkeepers. And remember: there’s nothing wrong with being wrong, kids.

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Clown

Not much more to say about this modern classic than what I’ve already gushed about in the past but the Cliff Notes version goes a little something like this: Jon Watts and Christopher Ford’s loving tribute to pure horror should be required viewing for anyone who considers themself a horror fanatic and right at the top of the list for those looking for that elusive “truly scary movie.” Beep, beep, Richie!

A doting father (Andy Powers) puts on an old clown costume, as a last-minute replacement for his birthday boy’s absent entertainment, and can’t take the darn thing off. Because, you know, it’s attached to his skin. As his blood-lust grows, the doomed dad discovers that only one dish truly hits the spot: fresh child.

With no hyperbole, Clown is easily one of the best pure horror films since the genre’s heyday in the ’80s and ’90s. Streamlined, mean, inventive, colorful and possessed of one fantastic setpiece after the other, this is in the best vein of films like Pumpkinhead and The Fly: it’s a horror film that centers itself around relatable, likable characters and then builds horror from the tragedy around them. Toss in a phenomenally great origin story for the clown menace and Clown is one of those films that’s just impossible to forget.

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The ABCs of Death

As concepts go, The ABCs of Death series has always had one of the best ones: give 26 different filmmakers a letter of the alphabet and free-rein to create whatever associated horror-oriented treat strikes their fancy. It’s a pretty genius concept but, as with almost every anthology film ever, the results are decidedly mixed. In this case, unfortunately, the results definitely tend towards the drearier end of the spectrum.

Personal favorites? Marcel Sarmiento’s sleek and mean “D is for Dogfight,”  Timo Tjahjanto’s impossibly repulsive “L is for Libido,” Helene Cattet and Bruno Forzani’s elegant “O is for Orgasm,” Adam Wingard and Simon Barrett’s silly but effective “Q is for Quack” and Jon Schnepp’s truly demented “W is for WTF.” As for the rest, they range from disappointing efforts from respected filmmakers (Bogliano, Wheatley, Rumley, Vigalondo, West) to shorts that I actively disliked (Noburo Aguchi’s “F is for Fart” and Ti West’s “M is for Miscarriage” are still two of my least-favorite things since I first saw this collection years ago).

All in all, this is a decidedly disappointing first shot across the bow that would go on to produce much more impressive offerings in the second go-around. Still, you really can’t beat the anthology-short format when it comes time to program a little spooky viewing.

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Wendigo

When it comes to indie filmmakers, writer/director/actor/producer/studio-head/all-around maven Larry Fessenden is easily one of my all-time faves. Ever since bursting onto the scene in 1982 with his vampire/junkie parable Habit, Fessenden has dedicated his life to indie cinema. His Glass Eye Pix is responsible for releasing more quality genre flicks than any company this side of A24 (I Sell the Dead, House of the Devil, The Innkeepers, Stake Land, Late Phases, and Darling, to name just a few) and he’s the kind of character actor who can handily steal the film from the leads.

As a director, Fessenden has been responsible for one of my very favorite horror films of the last 15 years (The Last Winter) and one of my very least favorite (Beneath). His follow-up to Habit, Wendigo (2001), manages to sit square between those polar opposites. This icy tale of city folks running afoul of backwoods evil (both human and otherwise) is long on atmosphere and features one of the most nightmarishly memorable creatures I’ve ever seen in a film. It owes an obvious debt to Stan Winston’s classic Pumpkinhead but pays it back in some pretty unique ways. It also features one helluva cast: Patricia Clarkson, Jake Weber and Malcolm in the Middle’s Erik Per Sullivan…now that’s an ensemble!

Larry Fessenden approaches the genre from a fan’s perspective and that genuine love shows through in everything he does (including the odious Beneath). Although it misses the high-water mark set by the follow-up, Wendigo is still a fascinating slice of indie horror-psychedelia and handily shows why the filmmaker deserves a lot more acclaim than he gets.

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That does it for Week Three of the 31 Days of Halloween: stay tuned for next time, as we screen another batch of new films (including a few that we’ve been looking forward to) and lots of old favorites.

 

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10/23/14 (Part Two): Eat To Live, Don’t Live To Eat

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31 Days of Halloween, Anthony B. Richmond, Antonia Bird, Bill Brochtrup, black comedies, cannibalism, cannibals, cinema, cowardice, Damon Albarn, David Arquette, favorite films, film reviews, films, forts, gallows' humor, gory films, Grand Guignol, Guy Pearce, horror, horror films, isolation, Jeffrey Jones, Jeremy Davies, John Spencer, Joseph Running Fox, Manifest Destiny, Mexican-American War, Michael Nyman, Movies, Neal McDonough, Ravenous, Robert Carlyle, set in the 1840s, Sheila Tousey, Sierra Nevadas, Stephen Spinella, Ted Griffin, U.S. army, wendigo, Westward expansion

For my money, Antonia Bird’s Ravenous (1999) has to be one of the most under-rated films out there: it’s certainly one of the most under-rated horror films, which is a real head-scratcher considering just how good the movie is. Perhaps audiences were thrown off by the subject matter (cannibalism has the virtue of still being one of the few remaining Western taboos) or found the tone confusing (an argument that’s certainly valid, if needlessly reductive). Maybe genre audiences were resistant to a horror film helmed by a female director (Bird replaced the original director a few weeks into filming), a terribly stupid prejudice that’s haunted the genre practically from its inception. Regardless of the reason for its “shunning,” however, the facts remain the same: Ravenous is one hell of a great film and deserves to be mentioned in any list of the best films of the ’90s.

Set in the American West, circa 1847, we’re introduced to the character of Captain John Boyd (Guy Pearce) as he receives a medal for his bravery during the Mexican-American War. The irony, as we see via choice flashbacks and the withering comments of Boyd’s superior officer, General Slauson (John Spencer), is that Boyd is actually a coward: as his men were getting slaughtered left and right, Boyd hid himself under a mountain of bodies and pretended to be dead. Once all of his men were dead and the Mexican soldiers’ attention was elsewhere, Boyd slipped out and, single-handedly, captured the Mexican encampment. A one-man army? Definitely award-worthy! A coward who watches his own troops get butchered? Better get a broom: this is getting swept under the rug, folks.

As “reward,” Boyd is sent to remote Fort Spencer, an isolated and rarely used way-station for travelers in the Sierra Nevadas: the U.S. army loves him so much, they don’t want him anywhere around. At the fort, Boyd meets his new comrades, an exceptionally strange bunch of folks if there ever were any: Col. Hart (Jeffrey Jones), the commanding officer, is a philosophical man who reads books in their original language because the fort “thrives on tedium”; Major Knox (Stephen Spinella), the next in command, is a falling-down drunk who also serves as the fort’s resident doctor (“Don’t get sick,” is Hart’s sage advice to Boyd); Pvt. Toffler (Jeremy Davies), the group’s missionary, is a real nutcase who’s given to talking to himself in hushed tones and writing fervent religious poetry at the drop of a hat; the “over-medicated” Pvt. Cleaves (David Arquette), the perma-stoned cook who spends the majority of his time getting high and giggling; Pvt. Reich (Neal McDonough), the creepily cheerful, gung-ho soldier who’s given to standing in freezing ponds and primal screaming; and the fort’s resident Native Americans, Martha (Sheila Tousey) and her brother George (Joseph Running Fox), who also happens to be Cleaves’ smoking buddy. In other words, you have just about the most interesting group of characters (and actors) that you could possibly get…and it only gets better from there.

One night, the general boredom of the fort’s routine is upset when the group spy a mysterious, haggard mountain-man outside, in the freezing snow. Rushing him inside, the group finds him weak and nearly dead, but still kicking. After administering to him, they learn that the man is F.W. Colqhoun (Robert Carlyle), a Scottish immigrant who was travelling with a wagon train that found disaster in the unforgiving Sierra Nevadas. The train’s leader, Col. Ives, was an incompetent man who led them astray and got them all stranded in an underground cave. As the harsh winter set in around them, the group quickly blew through their food rations before turning to their pack animals and things like their leather belts and shoes. When those ran out, the group began to cannibalize the dead, some with more gusto than others, according to Colqhoun. Ives, in particular, became a monster who gleefully chowed his way through all of the survivors until it was just him, Colqhoun and another woman. Fleeing into the night, Colqhoun left Ives and the woman behind in the cave, a cowardly act that serves as a fitting parallel to Boyd’s own act of self-preservation.

Upon hearing that Ives and the woman may still be alive in the cave, Hart wastes no time in organizing a rescue mission, taking Boyd, George, Toffler, Reich and Colqhoun with him, as Knox stays behind to mind the fort. On the way, Toffler ends up getting injured, which leads to the unsettling incident where Colqhoun is discovered licking the missionary’s wound as they all sleep in their tents. Colqhoun, it would appear, has a bit of an impulse control problem. He’s also quite the liar, as the group discovers when they reach the cave and find a much different, more horrible scenario than the one Colqhoun so helpfully described. With the tables turned, Boyd is soon engaged in a life-or-death struggle with Colqhoun, a struggle that ends with Boyd grievously injured and trapped in a hole in the woods.

After freeing himself, Boyd returns to the fort only to discover that General Slauson and his men are already there: Hart’s party is still missing and Slauson has come down to lead the search. He’s also brought a new commanding officer with him, someone to run Fort Spencer in Hart’s absence…a cheerful, friendly fellow by the name of Col. Ives. From this point on, the film becomes a brilliant cat-and-mouse game as Boyd tries desperately to convince those around him that Ives is not only an imposter but a supernaturally strong, blood-thirsty cannibal, as well. Ives has plenty of tricks up his sleeve, however, and he’s a patient man: he’s more than happy to wait as Boyd becomes more and more entangled in his web. The whole thing builds to a Grand Guignol climax that features one of the most intense, amazing mano-a-mano battles that I’ve ever seen (think Family Guy’s “Chicken vs Peter” fights but with live-action actors and gallons of blood), all before finishing up with one of the most subtle, succinct commentaries on the human condition ever put to screen.

I remember going to see Ravenous in the theaters when it first came out and being so absolutely blown away by it that I promptly went to see it again. As soon as I was able, I bought the DVD and have happily revisited the film at least once a year for over a decade. Obviously, I’m quite fond of the movie: it’s actually one of my favorite films, let alone one of my favorite horror films. What, exactly, appeals to me so much about this marvelous little gem? In a nutshell, Ravenous is one smart film, from beginning to end and if there’s anything I appreciate, laud and worship, it’s a smart film.

One of the biggest complaints levied against Ravenous is that the film is tonally inconsistent, so schizophrenic as to almost be two films jammed into one: a slapstick comedy, complete with “zany” sound effects, and a serious, gore-drenched horror movie about cannibals and Wendigos. This tendency is evident from the very first frame, where Nietzche’s famous quote about fighting monsters is followed by the immediate rejoinder, “Eat Me!,” credited to “Anonymous.” The second comment pops up with one of those aforementioned “zany” sound effects, which creates a completely jarring tone when juxtaposed with composer Michael Nyman and Blur frontman Damon Albarn’s austere bluegrass-y score. All of this is balanced against Anthony B. Richmond’s absolutely stunning cinematography: the snowy mountain setting is truly beautiful.

Rather than being a handicap, I’ve always felt that Ravenous’ split-tone was one of its greatest assets. Despite the occasionally slapstick action, the film is never silly or stupid: instead, it uses the frequent gallows’ humor and moments such as Colqhoun/Ives’ sarcastic asides to keep the audience in a constant state of uneasiness. From one moment to the next, it’s all but impossible to predict the film’s next move: a gleefully insane gore setpiece might sit uncomfortably next to a masterfully executed comedic scene. One of the film’s best moments is the one where Hart asks Boyd about his hobbies, only to be told he enjoys swimming: after a long pause, Hart casts an eye outside, at the frozen landscape, before giving the priceless rejoinder, “Hope you don’t mind hard water.” Classic! Likewise, the excellent, atmospheric score (truly some of Albarn’s best work) helps pull the mood in a million directions at once: the film’s main theme is very catchy and evocative and serves to accentuate several key moments, helping to do a little of the heavy lifting, thematically speaking.

And that cast…oh, boy…that cast…Any film that features Guy Pearce, Robert Carlyle, David Arquette, Jeffrey Jones, Neal McDonough, Stephen Spinella and John Spencer should be guaranteed more than its fair share of eyeballs glued to the screen but, alas, even this star power wasn’t enough to pull in the ticket-buyers. It’s a real shame, too, because Carlyle’s performance as Colqhoun/Ives is not only one of his very best performances (pretty much second only to the marvelous piece of shit that is Begbie) but it’s reason enough to see the film, hands down. Quite simply, Carlyle turns in one of the all-time best villainous performances I’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing. He’s so good, in fact, that I’ll stack his performance next to any cinematic villain from the dawn of the Nickelodeons right up to yesterday: Colqhoun/Ives is an unforgettable creation and Carlyle should have been praised from here to the moon for the performance, hands down.

For me, one of the saddest aspects to Ravenous’ box-office failure was the way that it effectively cut Antonia Bird’s cinematic career short. Predominantly a television director until her big-screen debut with Priest (1994), Ravenous would only be her fourth (and last) non-TV effort. After the film went the way of the dodo, Bird went back to television where she would remain until her untimely death last year at the age of 62. More than anything, I lament the amazing, lost films that might have followed Ravenous had the movie only been successful…or had Bird just been given another chance. The irony of the fact is that Ravenous is an exceptionally well-made film: it looks gorgeous and has more atmosphere than a bakers’ dozen of lesser movies. In a perfect world, these traits would be rewarded. In the bizarro-world of Hollywood, however, receipts are king and Ravenous never really had a chance.

And there you have it, folks: the best film that hardly anyone’s seen. Why should anyone care about a 15-year-old horror-comedy about cannibals? Well, if you’re a horror fan, the film features amazingly real and gruesome practical effects, along with one of the all-time great cinematic “monsters” and some genuinely shocking scenes. If you’re just a general fan of the cinema, Ravenous is expertly crafted, featuring beautiful cinematography, a truly unique and wonderfully fitting musical score and a superb ensemble cast. For those who like a little something to think about, Ted Griffin’s script finds some truly brilliant ways to equate Manifest Destiny and Westward expansion with the consumption of human flesh: as the settlers chewed up and spit out the remains of those who came before them, so, too, does Colqhoun plan to chew up and spit out the settlers. It’s the circle of life: it might not be pretty, but it sure does look familiar.

As a writer, I feel that one of the greatest, most important things I can possibly do is to make sure that quality films like Ravenous don’t completely fade out into obscurity. Just as I’ve fallen in love with this ramshackle little mutt of a film, so do I feel that anyone else can, with the right push. As someone who’s spent the better part of his life separating the wheat from the chaff, as far as horror films go, let me now throw the fullest recommendation possible behind Ravenous. Give it a chance and I’m pretty sure you’ll agree: there’s absolutely nothing else out there like Ravenous…and we’re all a whole lot poorer for it.