31 days, 31 faves: Candyman

Let's get straight to the point. Candyman (1992) scared the pants right off me when it came out. Everything about it gave me the willies. I had already read the source material (a story out of a book of short stories (Books of Blood) by Clive Barker - 'The Forbidden') and knew it was a very scary and unnerving tale, so I had anticipated that the film version was going to be every bit as frightening as Barker's story.

Stop me if you've heard this one: A college freshman is telling the story of an urban legend that has been making the rounds. Promiscuous girl has bad boy over to hang out while she's babysitting. She decides to have sex with him but for some reason they are in the bathroom and she tells him the legend of Candyman first- say his name five times in front of a mirror and he'll appear and gut you like a fish with his hook. Naturally, she's stupid enough to utter his name the required amount of times and what happens? He shows up and (off-camera) splits her open.

We move on then to Helen (Virginia Madsen), a graduate student who is writing her thesis on urban legends and has set her focus on the lore of Candyman. She and her friend Bernadette (Kasi Lemmons) are doing some interviews with students about the subject and while working late, Helen runs across a couple of cleaning ladies who give her a more in depth chat about the fiendish murderer. Apparently he is being blamed for the death of one Ruthie Jean, a young black woman from the projects. Helen and Bernadette decide to get the real story so off they trek to Cabrini-Green, an urban sprawl of gangs, crime, and the extremely disadvantaged.

Cabrini-Green scares the living hell out of me, even more than Candyman himself. I wasn't raised in the city, I'm a small town girl. The thought of having to walk past a ghetto like that -even in the middle of the day, packing heat - makes me quiver with fear. Helen does a bit of investigating and finds out that her condo was actually built with the exact same plan as Cabrini but they turned them into expensive condos. She realizes that the walls are just dry wall and the bathroom medicine chests are all that separate one apartment from the other.

Her and Bernadette make the journey to Cabrini and once past all the gang-bangers out front and in the hallways (who think the girls are cops due to their snappy dressing), they poke around in one of the empty apartments. Quite honestly the creepiest moment in the film for me is when Helen crawls through the hole where the medicine cabinet was and takes a look around. The room is covered in grungy graffiti and is downright appalling. But the worst part is when she steps through a bigger hole in the wall and we, as the audience, get to see that the wall on our side is painted with a giant mouth...Candyman's mouth. Just. So. Scary.

Helen and Bernadette are soon busted snooping around by Anne-Marie - one of the locals who is tending to her young baby and has a Rottweiler for an escort - and once she's calmed down, she reiterates the story about Candyman killing Ruthie Jean.

Later, Helen returns by herself (!!) to get more photos the next day, and she is led to an outside public bathroom which is a cesspool of foulness. There, she is attacked by one of the locals who claims to be Candyman and beat up pretty bad. Obviously, he's not - but he scares the bejesus out of Helen nonetheless.

We eventually learn the actual story behind the myth, the fact that Candyman was well educated and actually came from a well-off family. But that all ended when he fell in love with a (white) plantation owner's daughter. The girl's father had no time for his offspring getting jiggy with a black man. That in itself tells a lot about the film. The stigma of racial indifference and intolerance does make it seem rather controversial, in particular because a white woman is being terrorized by a black man. And as Candyman, Tony Todd casts a very commanding and scary presence - makes my blood run cold. We find out that his lover's father exacted a horrific revenge by, among other things, cutting off Candyman's arm and covering him with honey, then letting an entire hive of bees loose on him. Okay, that's certainly unique.

The scene in the parking garage, where Candyman calls to Helen, putting her into a trance, is a turning point in the film. Hypnotized by his deep, resonating voice, Helen loses consciousness. Coming to, she awakes in a pool of blood in Anne-Marie's apartment. Hearing the young mother's deafening cries for help, she races into the next room to see the Rottwieler's head severed from its body and Anne-Marie screaming beside the baby's crib. Young Anthony is missing, and when A-M sees Helen she runs to her, accusing her of murder. There is a major struggle, and conveniently the cops bust through the door to see Helen wielding a meat cleaver over Anne-Marie's body. Not a good thing.

Helen is arrested and when she uses her one phone call she finds out her hubby isn't home - and it's 3 am. Throughout the movie you come to realize Trevor (Xander Berkeley) is a louse. He's a swarmy college professor who is obviously having an affair with a student. He does however, come and get Helen at the police station, and seems to stand by her.

This changes when Helen finally comes face to face with Candyman at her condo. He jumps out at her, hook first, through the mirror and chases her through the hallway, reaching her and putting her into said trance yet again. When Bernadette comes to visit, things don't end well. Helen is booked for murder and is sent to be evaluated by a shrink. But the wheels are already set in motion - she escapes and is left to roam through the windy city to try to make some sense of everything. She has a half-baked idea that if she is able to find Anne-Marie's baby (which she knows Candyman is hiding), she'll be forgiven and won't have to be considered a fugitive nut case anymore.

Throughout the film, you really could ask yourself if Helen is going crazy or if the legends are true. At times, it certainly seems as though she's flipped her lid. For instance, when Helen is an escaped mental patient, she goes back to her and Trevor's apartment only to find the slutty girlfriend completely redecorating the place. When Trevor comes into the room there are a few moments when Helen's wide-eyed look seems purely psychotic. But as much as Helen proclaims her innocence, no one - not even her husband at this point - believes her.

Candyman also does not stray from gore. In fact, there are some seriously gruesome scenes of violence here. When you're ripping someone open from the groin to sternum, it ain't gonna be pretty. But we are talking Clive Barker here, the man behind Hellraiser, among other things. The dude has a sick mind that most horror fans can truly appreciate as a unique, daring voice of darkness. And to me, this film is every bit as good as Hellraiser. Yes, they are vastly different, but if I had to choose I'd pick Candyman over Pinhead every time. I'll always chose the tragic hero over the demon from hell. But hey, maybe that's just me.

And again, I would be negligent if I didn't mention the music of Candyman. The consummate composer, Philip Glass has given this film a true touch of class with his piano, organ and voice-oriented score. The main theme is haunting and unforgettable, and one of my favorites.
As is the film. If you haven't seen it, there's really no excuse for you not to go rent it or pick it up immediately. You will not be disappointed.

31 days, 31 faves: Night of the Living Dead (1968)

Because I'm from the greater Pittsburgh area, I do believe I am required to like George Romero. Thankfully, I'm happy to do so. An affection for zombies is also a mandatory condition of my address as well, and while I much prefer the other brand of the living-challenged (read: vampires) I do, in fact, have some love for those cadaverous wraiths Romero is so fond of.

On Halloween night each year, while others are out trick-or-treating or partying hard at some random costume party, I'm easing into my couch with a spirit or two of my own (the liquid variety, natch) to turn out the lights and watch Night of the Living Dead (1968). And while other people claim one of the other Dead films as their favorite, I'm old-school. Black and white. Lumbering zombies. Little if no humor. Dense blondes with trauma-induced stupidity. Street smart heroes with an actual brain instead of a whole lot of one-liners.
Behold the classic.

So many of the masses attempt to find something new to scare the pants off them to celebrate the holiday...and though I like discovering fresh horror, I'm quite happy to enjoy my old stand-by come October 31st. (Though this year I'll be jumping for joy to make it a zombie-filled Halloween with the premiere of The Walking Dead on AMC - yay!) To me, it just isn't Halloween till someone's throwing another one on the fire, so to speak.

For those born under a very large, constricting rock, Night of the Living Dead starts out with Barbra (Judith O'Dea) and Johnny (Russell Streiner) making a long trek into the rural outskirts of Pittsburgh to place a wreath on their father's grave. Once there, Johnny teases Barbra about being frightened of the cemetery, uttering the famous line "They're coming to get you, Barbra!" and pointing to a disheveled man who is staggering around the tombstones, coming their way. Turns out, they are coming to get Barbra, and the Lerch look-alike attacks her. Johnny comes to her aid but miraculously is a total misfit when it comes to fighting, and is dropped, bashing his head against the side of a grave. Down for the count!

Barbra runs, losing a shoe, falling down a few times, and not gaining any ground - as most horror movie female victims do. She makes it to the car but manages to wreck it into a tree after being accosted by said zombie (who makes quick work of the distance Barbara puts between them, for sure). Jumping from said car, she runs (if you can call it that) to a nearby farmhouse.

Soon after, our hero Ben arrives and starts boarding up the house (with no help from nearly catatonic Barbra, who I would have kicked to the curb by now) with anything he can find. They have a discussion (well, Ben does all the chatting while Barbra sits there dumbfounded) about whether or not anyone has a car, how she came to be at the house, and just what the devil these "things" are. Soon, Barbra starts prattling on about saving Johnny and blah blah blah - I honestly just want Ben to throw her outside into the yard, which incidentally is filling up with the living dead PDQ.

Meanwhile, there is a family of three and a couple who have taken cover in the basement. Harry and Helen Cooper (Karl Hardman, Marilyn Eastman) are caring for their ill daughter Karen (Kyra Schon) and are hiding out with a young couple, Tom (Keith Wayne) and Judy (Judith Ridley). Their idea is to stay concealed in the cellar and hope things are resolved briskly.
Good luck with that.

By the time the upstairs duo finally meet up with the five people hiding in the basement (who get a scolding from Ben because they never came upstairs to help zombie-proof the house), tension is riding high and arguments begin over how to act and what their next move should be. Making things even worse is the fact that Karen has been bitten by a zombie. Do I really need to add that zombie bites are toxic?

Quite honestly the zombies themselves aren't really frightening. To me, it's the idea of the dead actually coming back that is so scary. Sure seems like you could outrun those dudes in their hospital gowns and split-down-the-back suits, right? More chilling yet is the radio broadcasts. Here's where the tension is unbearable for me. When you hear newscasters explaining that the dead are coming back to life and consuming the living, it's not going to be your finest hour. It made it all the more realistic for me the first few times I saw it because the newscasters were talking about local places that I knew - places I'd been and still go to. I can imagine anyone in western Pennsylvania got a little distressed way back in 1968 when the film came out. It surely would have had a War of the Worlds effect on me, if I hadn't been in diapers at that time.

So I will have to admit one of my favorite things about the film though, is the name-dropping. As I said, being a native of the area, it is always so awesome when they start showing those names of towns all over the television screen, like Butler and Ford City, both of which I am quite close to. Seeing Bill "Chilly-Billy" Cardille as the newscaster just makes me smile as well.

Anyway, when our gang decides they can't just sit around and wait to die, they start being pro-active and making plans. That being said, the best laid plans don't always work out...and these were not the best laid plans. Ben and Tom decide to drive the running-on-fumes truck Ben came in to the nearby gas pumps on the property, but they get a bit overrun by the moving lawn ornaments who want nothing more than to eat their livers (with or without the Chianti, I'm sure). A major mishap occurs when Harry throws a Molotov cocktail out the window to distract the zombies (once again, fire is the leading deterrent for the any varietal of undead) and sets spilled gasoline on fire. And what happens when there's fire at the gas pumps? Well, some of those zombies are having barbeque, that's what.

With that plan foiled and Karen inside chomping on her mother, the outlook here is fairly grim. The rest of them hole up in the house and continue to fight off the menacing and determined ghouls. As it is, Ben ends up back in the basement and listens as the zombies make their way into the house. The ending of NOTLD is a bleak one, yet still somewhat unexpected. But then again, how can it not be with the dead reanimating and eating the living? It all comes down to this: that shit's just wrong. But damn if it doesn't make for compelling storytelling.

Night of the Living Dead is such an incredibly important and influential film, not just in the zombie sub-genre, but for horror in general. There are many firsts associated with this one, not the least of which being Duane Jones (Ben) being one of the first black "heroes" in a film.
In addition, showing the graphic scenes of intestinal consumption, albeit in monochrome, hadn't really been done in such a blatantly obvious way either. How I love to see those crazy zombies pulling guts out and chowing down.

This film set off a chain reaction that is still quite relevant today. People are just utterly obsessed with zombies. I've never been a colossal fan of them, truth be told. I think it is because they are just too inhuman for me to relate to. I prefer a monster that has some humanity in there somewhere, something that gives them just pause before they rip your head off. My favorite monsters are such, like Frankenstein or the Wolfman - they still have a thought process that gives them some empathy. (The exception to this rule, as far as zombies go, may be Bub from Romero's Day of the Dead, 1985.) Generally though, the collapse of the human psyche at death causes zombies to basically just be mindless killing machines.
But hey, that in and of itself is what makes them so scary. And Night of the Living Dead is really the pinnacle of the zombie genre, and certainly one of my favorite films.

31 days, 31 faves: Dark Night of the Scarecrow

Way back in the prolific horror year of 1981, a made-for-television movie came out that can certainly be considered one of the best of its kind. Not only are there not a lot of good movies out there about scarecrows, but let's be frank -there are only a smattering of really good tv horror movies as it is. This one gave me the heebie-jeebies when I was younger.

Dark Night of the Scarecrow is a not just a horror movie, it's a tale of injustice and intolerance.
Of prejudice and damaged mind-sets. But it's also a really well crafted and truly edgy film for its time, particularly for television.

Bubba (Larry Drake, "Dr. Giggles" to you youngins) is a hapless hulk of a man, thirty six years old but with the mind of a six year old. He spends his afternoons frolicking in the fields with the young children of the neighborhood, one in particular has become a special friend - Marylee. Now before you go all pedophile on me, you have to know that though Bubba's thought process is slow, his heart is genuine. It would never occur to him to harm anyone, in any way. Certainly, he is a child himself. Singing songs and exchanging flowers are his main source of fun.

Meanwhile, the townsfolk (led by bastard-for-hire postman Otis, played with vigor by the always seemingly intense Charles Durning) have a hard-on about giving Bubba his due. It's plain to see that they just don't like Bubba because he's a simpleton. Determined to catch him in some kind of compromising position with his little friend Marylee, Otis and Co. lay in wait for something to happen.

When Marylee sneaks into a neighbors yard and gets attacked by their dog (honestly a very un-scary black labrador), Bubba shows up at Marylee's house, carrying her and crying that he "didn't do it!" Naturally this just fuels the neighborhood fire and Mr. Postman and his cronies take off after Bubba, gathering all the town losers as they go. Their only intent is to exact revenge on Marylee's "killer".

Bubba's mother, at the same time, has heard Bubba's story and of course believes her son. She explains that they are going to play 'the hiding game' and the next thing you know the townsfolk, with their trusty hound dogs, have tracked Bubba to an empty cornfield where he has been disguised as a scarecrow (what else did you expect with the movie's title). But Otis sees through Bubba's disguise and soon after, he and the other men empty their shotguns into poor Bubba.

Directly after (and I'm talking not even a minute passes), the guys get a call over the radio that Marylee is fine. Just a little shaken up. Naturally they are all appalled, yet frightened at the same time, considering they just murdered an innocent man. To make things appear the way they want them in order to not be charged, they stick a pitchfork in Bubba's hand - making it seem like Bubba came after them, which is completely implausible. But that's their story and they're sticking to it. Regardless, they end up in court.
Though a totally shallow tale, the men end up beating the charges due to lack of evidence.
Bubba's mother warns them in the courtroom that there are "other kinds of justice".

Indeed there is. One by one, the conscience-stricken men become victims of an unseen assailant. Just to see the men practically piss their pants is nearly enough revenge as far as I'm concerned, but the film takes it all the way, giving us killer-point-of-view camera angles, menacing footsteps, and dastardly accidents in order to prove that justice will be served.

Otis becomes utterly freaked out when, after confronting Marylee, she tells him she still sees Bubba and that she knows the true story of what happened. Furthermore, as Otis's friends all meet a gruesome death (come on, am I really spoiling anything here?) he tries to place the blame on Bubba's mother. In a fit of rage, he scares the living daylights out of her at her own home, clamping his hand over her mouth and warning her to stop her shenanigans (well, he didn't use that word, but I like to use it whenever I can). Unfortunately for Otis, the old woman had a bad heart, and expires with him still in the house.
He covers the evidence of the crime by burning the house down, and then drags one of the more unintelligent buddies of his to head to the cemetery to make sure Bubba is truly dead.

Whether they find him there or not is for you to find out when you see this little gem of a film. The best parts of the movie are when you see the scarecrow waaay out in the field....and you wonder, as the unfortunate men do as well, what the hell it's doing there. It's truly good stuff that puts you in mind of Jeepers Creepers - the moment when they see the Creeper hanging up on the pole like a scarecrow - that film seriously had to have ripped that moment off of Dark Night.

In the film, you never truly see the scarecrow killing anyone. The suspense of "what if?" joyfully gives us room to debate as to whether he is actually behind what is happening or not. But at the end....the final scenes...you realize revenge has been served up, just like mama said.

These kind of films are so very rare these days, wherein the filmmakers build tension and uncertainty until a conclusion is finally given. And of course, there is very little blood here, just a bit here and there. You can't be going all Hostel on a television audience, now can you? But believe me when I say you won't miss it.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

Friday the 13th Part 3



Count Dracula's Great Love



Dark Night of the Scarecrow




Dead Silence



Saw 3 (nasty one, that.)

31 days, 31 faves: The Shining

Ahh, Jack.
Good ol' Jack Torrance. Recovering alcoholic and domestic abuser seeks new job caretaking a grand old hotel deep in the mountains...isolated yet charming, immense yet oh-so-stifling.

When The Shining reached my VCR (because yes, I'm that old), I freaked out like nobody's business. I'd read the book a few years before I saw the film, so I kind of knew what to expect. But what I got was a tour de force performance by one Jack Nicholson and a movie that would change the way I saw movies forever.

As if you didn't already know, The Shining is the story of Jack Torrance. He's just accepted a position as a winter caretaker at the gorgeous Overlook Hotel high in the Rocky Mountains and well removed from any civilization whatsoever once the snow flies. He lugs along his plain-jane wife Wendy and their "special" son (special as in gifted, not slow) and the first few weeks are sheer bliss. Running through the ridiculously creepy hedge maze, big wheels traversing the carpeted hallways, a ballroom ready for grooving the night away, and a first snow of epic proportions to enjoy.
Yeah, right.

Settling in to a regular routine of writing (because Jack gave up his teaching job to write the great American novel, apparently), Jack begins to...change. At first it's subtle. A weird look here or there, a few unkind words to the wifey while typing away on the typewriter. Crazy daydreams that plague him and cause Wendy extra worry. And as Danny's gifts start warning him that the hotel has other surprises in store, Wendy sees a shift in Jack's mood. And it all goes south from there.

It's been said (over and over again) that Stephen King isn't a fan of how Kubrick manipulated his material into a totally different entity than the book. And while I am a HUGE fan of the book (it's in my top five all-time), I am also a major fan of the (Kubrick) movie version. But I do separate them as two different stories, I have to. The differences aren't wildly dissimilar, but to be sure I don't think King meant for Jack to be bat-shit crazy just for the hell of it. In the book, it is more the alcoholism and the cabin fever that get to him, with a bit of spooky haunted hotel thrown in for good measure. In the film, holy crap - Jack's like the Mad Hatter. But it was perfectly done by Nicholson, in all his bombastic glory. Over the top? Yep. But would we have it any other way?

In addition to Nicholson, the other characters in the film version are well played indeed, from the sublime mousiness of Shelley Duvall's meek yet determined Wendy to the clueless, sweater-rockin' Danny Lloyd (Danny), whom it is said had no idea he was even acting in a movie. Well he did a damn convincing job, the little twirp. And who wasn't keen on Scatman Crothers (as beloved cook, Dick Hallorann) and Danny having some chocolate ice cream while they chat about shining and the heinous Room 237.
I have a special affection as well, for bartender extraordinaire Lloyd. He just reeks cool.

But by far, in Kubrick's masterpiece, the hotel itself is the star. So much is going on there it's nearly hard to keep track. Besides the crazy geometric carpeting, we've got bartenders who aren't really there but are pouring the Jack Daniels like there's no tomorrow, former caretakers who dish out advice on how to 'correct' children, fine-looking women who morph into the witch from Snow White, elevators that gush blood, two downright terrifying little girls who just want to play, costumed guests who are having bizarre same-sex encounters with the doors left wide open, and ax-wielding dads who quote Ed McMahon.

I seriously think The Shining is one of the most quoted horror films out there. I mean, who hasn't at some point, given a wicked grin and spouted off the signature line "Heeeeere's Johnny!!" at one time or another? My personal fave is the "Wendy....Darling...Light of my life..." speech, which never fails to amuse me on some sick level.
But there is a reason The Shining is quoted so much: it's a DAMN good film that most horror fans consider one of their favorites and stacked against other films, it is leaps and bounds above the rest.

And on that note, I leave you with images from the film. Because nearly everyone I know has seen it, appreciated it, and loves to be reminded of the terror.

31 days, 31 faves: Profondo Rosso (Deep Red)

October is here, finally. Meaning for me, it's not only my favorite time of the year, but a month-long celebration of my (and probably yours if you're reading this) favorite holiday.

Each year here on FWF, it's a goal to try to think of something to do to commemorate Halloween - a month-long theme - and this year is no exception. So I've decided to simply pick 31 of my favorite horror movies and do a (sometimes restrained) review and let you know a few reasons why I love it so much.

And while I am busy writing for other sites and guest posting here and there (because everybody picks October to dish out the good stuff), I shall try my damnedest to get these posts up. They will be in no particular order - that's just too freaking hard for me.

First up, an Argento favorite of mine.



Boasting a rare 100% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, Profondo Rosso (a.k.a. Deep Red; a.k.a. The Hatchet Murders) is probably considered director Dario Argento's most famous and significant work. But why is it special to me?

Well, when I was a teenager and looking through the racks at the video store, I always gravitated toward the most graphic VHS covers. Even then, I was a gore-hound, and the cover of Deep Red was nasty enough to hit my carnage meter fairly quick. I grabbed it up, and headed home to experience something I'd never yet seen. Beautiful death.
I've written about this and Dario Argento at greater length here, and rambled on about it here, so I won't go any further into that subject. But suffice it to say, it was my first experience with Argento, which essentially means I've been watching his films for over 25 years. Lucky me!

Deep Red starts with the audience being witness to a struggle and eventual murder as seen by a small child. Nothing more is given to us, and we are left to wonder how that sequence will prove to be important. We see the shadows of fighting adults, hear a small child's erratic breathing, see a bloody knife, and wonder why on earth the kid is dressed like something out of an Austrian musical. We assume, however, that this has happened in the past, once the film continues on.

Moving into the present, we witness the murder of Helga (Macha Meril), a renowned psychic. Just prior to her death, she was addressing a theater audience and got a strange sensation (okay, she quite literally freaks out) that someone in the audience was a murderer. This proves true indeed, as she is violently dispatched in the next five minutes of the film.
We then see British musician Marcus Daly (David Hemmings), who just happens to be walking alone on a deserted street when he overhears Helga's frantic screams of distress. Running to her aid, he is unable to get there in time to save her life, but once inside the apartment building where the murder takes place, he sees what he thinks may have been the killer's reflection in a group of pictures on the wall. Alas, though - he has an unfortunate case of short term memory loss.

Part of the mystery of the film is Marcus's dismay at not being able to remember what he believes to be a vital clue in the murder investigation.
He meets up with Gianna (Daria Nicolodi, in terrific form here), a spitfire of a reporter who Marcus not only teams up with to investigate, but also begins a rather comical romance with. The scenes of the two of them cramming themselves into Gianna's tiny car is amusing as hell.

With the daunting task of trying to recall that important tidbit of information, Marcus is taken on a roller coaster ride of confusion that certainly Argento is rather famous for. In flashbacks we come to understand that the opening scenes involving the horrific murder has taken place in someone's past - but the real treat of the film is figuring out just what happened, and just who did it, so we're right there alongside Marcus when he finally discovers the truth.

The voyeuristic camera work (perhaps done better only in Tenebrae) heightens your sense of fear and forboding as Marcus and Gianna dig further into a mystery that the killer is determined to keep buried.
Imagery, as is paramount in Argento's films, takes priority here as well, giving us not only loads of the red stuff, but creepy dolls (for which I will never forgive him, I can still conjure up a pretty good nightmare from that one menacing puppet!), bloody knives in the hands of children, creepy old houses with disturbing drawings hiding behind the plaster (let alone what else is hiding behind those walls!), and ghastly deaths - he's got it all going on, and it's amazing. And surprisingly, the plot and narratives are actually better here than most of his films. It's just a total package.

While discussing Deep Red, I would be remiss not to mention one of my favorite things about the film: the music. Naturally, Goblin is again at the wheel and that damned 'children's theme' is an ear-worm of epic proportions. Once it's in your head you'll take it to your grave, it's just that kind of tune. And the music that plays in the background each time Marcus seems to be remembering an important tidbit is as calculating and macabre as it gets. While I won't say the score is as good as Suspiria, it's very memorable.

The same can be said of the film itself. It's one of my go-to movies for a late Saturday night when I need a little of the red stuff.