31 DAYS OF HORROR 2019-Day 20: THE NAVY VS THE NIGHT MONSTERS (1966)

An acid-secreting ambulatory plant wishes in vain that it were in THE DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS (1962) instead. 

Please indulge me with this one. A film to majorly impact my formative years was the steaming turdstorm of THE NAVY VS. THE NIGHT MONSTERS (1966), a zero-budget effort implausibly based on a novel by sci-fi legend Murray Leinster.

The source material. 

Bad on so many levels, the movie is a crap-film-lover's smorgasbord of heinous acting, obviously in-studio sets trying to pass for the outdoors, man-eating, acid-secreting plants that look like they were crafted by a bunch of third graders with some papier-mache and a couple of garden hoses and the always welcome sight of Mamie Van Doren — aka "the poor man's Jayne Mansfield," but I will always enjoy the presence of a blonde 1950's B-movie bad girl type —  in a nurse's uniform that's about six sizes to small for her ample lungwarts.

Mamie Van Doren in her heyday: second only to Jayne Mansfield as the most delectable of the Marilyn Monroe clones.

In a nutshell — you'll be thankful for the brevity of this synopsis, as the movie is a seriously turgid stink bomb, trust me on that —the mixed Naval and scientific crew of a South Pacific weather station must deal with a bunch of recently-discovered prehistoric plants that shamble about and secrete a virulent natural corrosive while seeking flesh to ingest. The by-the-numbers 1950's/1960's clash of the scientific versus the military occurs, along with the expected era-and-genre-specific cringe-inducing sexism common to films of this ilk, and by the time that it's over you realize you'll never reclaim the 87 minutes of your life wasted by sitting through it. (Just ask my buddy Mountain Man, after I subjected him to it on the night before his annual birthday party a little over a decade ago. I think that movie broke him, as I have not been allowed to sit him through any movies of my suggestion ever since.)

The thing that stuck with me about this one is that it exposed my four-year-old eyes to their very first taste of cinematic gore in the form of a soldier getting his arm ripped off at the shoulder by what amounts to a carnivorous squash. Seen now the sequence is pretty tame, but it shocked the piss out me when I was little. Plus there are scenes of people getting splattered with acid, and we all know that's always good for vaporous histrionics and dripping, disfigured flesh.

The horrid results of "self-abuse."

And speaking of the memorable effects of what acid can do to human flesh as recalled by an under-five, for years afterward I could have sworn there was a scene in the film where Mamie Van Doren got her ample ass wedged into the maw of one of the plants and had to be borne away from it by a heroic Naval man while her ass literally smoldered, but that's the kind of thing that the febrile imagination of kid can falsely insert into memories of an early "shocking" cinematic moment. 

The film also introduced me to the "base under siege" trope in horror and sci-fi, with later, better examples including NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD (1968), ALIENS (1986), DOG SOLDIERS (2002), and damned near the entire Patrick Troughton era of classic DOCTOR WHO (1966-1969). Thus are the building blocks of one's genre interests collected, even if those blocks are sometimes calcified turds. They are still nonetheless stackable. Anyway, THE NAVY VS THE NIGHT MONSTERS is of interest only for Mamie Van Doren completists — who are likely to come away from this disappointed, as her tightly-attired, bullet-brassiered juvenile delinquency exploitation B-movie heyday was nearly a decade behind her at this point — fans of carnivorous plant monsters, and though awake late at night with no booze or drugs and absolutely nothing better to do with their time.

Poster from the theatrical release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2019-Day 19: THE MONSTER SQUAD (1987)

If you're gonna fight monsters, you've gotta know your shit. These kids do in no uncertain terms.

If you're a horror fan  of a certain vintage, like me, you were likely raised on a slew of classic horror movies that introduced you to monsters from all over the world, many culled from old myths and legends and a good number cribbed from literature. That early immersion served as our earliest lesson on the scary shit that's out there, even if we knew that the monsters themselves were pretend, but the wisdom imparted to us from such cinematic fare served as cautionary tales, and we sure as shit learned from it. By the time I was seven, I could tell you with authority a myriad of ways to counter or outright defeat any baleful critter you could name, and I know for a fact that I was not the only kid in my neighborhood to possess such an understanding of the eldritch mysteries. Back then we called ourselves "monster kids," and we did so with considerable pride, for we we the weird and the strange, and we wore that label with honor, while also bearing more than a little bit of identification with the monstrous. We were often bookish, imaginative, kinda quiet and reserved, our parents usually didn't understand us or our interests, and we took Halloween as something more than merely an excuse to put on shitty Ben Cooper costumes obtained at the local five-and-dime and got from door to door grubbing for bite-sized sweets. To us Halloween was a day in which to celebrate the dark things that lurk in the collective human imagination, and many of us have been able to retain that "kid wonder" and the love of all things eerie as grownups. 

That said, one flavor that often rankled  was that of the monster flick that was crafted specifically with the "kiddie" audience in mind, or at least what film studios often erroneously believed kids wanted to see in monster movies in which children were the protagonists. We all know of the specifically irritating kids found in Japanese kaiju flicks — a type so common and annoying that they have come to derisively be referred to as "Kennys" in some circles — and even western-made films that attempted to fuse kids into the monster/horror genre usually ended up as cloying exercises in nausea where there was no threat of danger and the monsters were either greatly neutered or were simply old man Jenkins in a rubber mask. I called bullshit on that when I was a kid myself and I call bullshit on it now, which is why I'm citing 1987's THE MONSTER SQUAD as the prime example of how to do a "kids meet monsters" movie right.

They came, they saw, they kicked ass.

When a group of the usual monstrous suspects — Count Dracula, the Wolf Man, the Mummy, the Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Frankenstein's monster, in other words the heavy-hitters from the classic Universal lineup (minus the Invisible Man) — is displaced through time and space to the present day Baton Rouge, Louisiana of the late-1980's, with Dracula (Duncan Regher) intent on leading the gang on a quest to obtain an amulet that the destruction of which will lead to the world being overtaken by the forces of darkness and evil. Unfortunately for the monsters, the area is home to the Monster Squad, a club of pre-teens who are obsessed with monster lore (in the exact way I described during this essay's into), and once the horror legends begin their rampage the kids put their knowledge to good use as they take the fight to the creatures. But these are no neutered SCOOBY-DOO "monsters," oh, hell naw. The monsters in this story are straight-up out to wreak murderous havoc, with Dracula at his most menacing since Christopher Lee hung up his cape. Frankenstein's monster (Tom Noonan), nearly always a misunderstood and sympathetic guy, is swayed to the side of the good guys when he's charmed and brought into the fold by the adorable Phoebe (Ashley Bank), a girl of about kindergarten age who also loves monsters but is initially denied entry into the club by the gang's leader, Sean (Andre Gower), because what boy wants his tagalong little sister hanging around and messing up his time with his like-minded bros? As the local authorities prove useless against the incursion by the forces of evil, the Monster Squad, aided by a number of older kids and "Scary German Guy" — the requisite old man in the neighborhood whom every kid fears (for no good reason) — face off against the creatures and do a jb that would make Professor Van Helsing, the Ghostbusters, and the Frog Brothers bow their heads in absolute respect.

Emerging at the ass-end of the 1980's slasher boom, THE MONSTER SQUAD was a film I ignored because I thought it looked and felt like THE GOONIES, a hit film from two years earlier that I absolutely loathed for being the kind of "kiddie" adventure that I never liked, only with the added presumed insult of dragging some of my favorite monsters down into that sort of pablum. Knowing better now, I greatly regret not supporting the film when it came out, as it is not only everything that THE GOONIES failed at, but it holds its own as a legit non-R-rated horror outing that happens to have kids as the protagonists. But don't let its starring of kids fool you, oh no. THE MONSTER SQUAD was crafted with an active brain in its head and one that understood what kids were actually like during that era, and the kids are portrayed in an incredibly believable manner. There's bad language of the kind that one heard every day in the schoolyard, rude behavior, and some bits that will likely fly over the heads of kids in the audience but that will delight (and in some cases unsettle) adult viewers. It's also genuinely scary and surprisingly dark, violent, and gory for a film aimed at a young audience, but I can't really go into detail without blowing some seriously great bits of business.  All I will say is that Dracula is a real rat bastard in this, especially from a kid's POV, the Frankenstein monster's arc will tug at your heartstrings (as it should), Phoebe is absolutely adorable but is in no way cloying (and figures majorly into the climax), and the absolute pitch-blackest moment in the whole film involves reminding us in no uncertain terms that there are far worst monsters in the real world than vampires and werewolves and suchlike. (If you've seen the film, you know exactly the reveal that I'm alluding to.)

The complete and utter excellence of Scary German Guy (Leonoardo Cimino).

Speaking as a now-grown (and ever-aging) monster kid, there's a hell of a lot to love about THE MONSTER SQUAD, and it's gratifying to see it finally achieving its rightful place as a true gem rather than just being a forgotten  footnote fro the 1980's horror landscape. I recommend this one for kids of seven at the very youngest, as the film provides moments of scares/gore/violence that most little ones might not be ready for yet — though let me tell you that I would have eaten this film up if I'd seen it during my formative years, believe you me, so carefully consider what your own wee monster kid/s can handle and proceed from there — and I will always respect films for kids that do not talk down to them and that treat their budding imaginations and intelligence as the precious things they are. Seriously, watch this 10-out-of-10 immediately and also note that it features a fantastic visual updating of the Creature from the Black Lagoon, whose original 1954 design and realization is one of the all-time masterpieces of monster cinema that still holds up today, so  that's not a compliment I bandy about lightly. Anyway, in shirt, THE MONSTER SQUAD is an often-overlooked study in genre perfection.

The 1987 iteration of the Creature from the Black Lagoon. In a word, WOW.

Poster from the theatrical release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2019-Day 18: THIS NIGHT I'LL POSSESS YOUR CORPSE (1967)

Zé do Caixão (José Mojica Marins) is back...and he's psyched!

Picking up right where AT MIDNIGHT I'LL TAKE YOUR SOUL left off, the exploits of Zé do Caixão continue as our anti-hero rises after months of recovery from the metaphysical ass-kicking and blindness that he suffered at he end of the first film. Reinvigorated, Ze (Director and co-writer José Mojica Marins) once more stalks his small Brazilian town in furtherance of breeding his "perfect" seed with a woman in hope of gaining his bloodline immortality through a son, and with this renewed vigor comes the expansion of his power to induce raw terror in the locals. His mere presence sends people running and clears the streets as the devout fearfully cross themselves during his approach. And he eats up every ounce of the hatred he inspires.

Our hero (?).

Aided by the hideous and hunchbacked Bruno (Nivaldo Lima, who looks like a fez-wearing Jerry Lewis who's had a melted candle haphazardly applied to his face), Ze kidnaps six women, with the intent that one of them prove herself to be "worthy" of bearing his child. Holding the women prisoner  in his home, complete with dungeon/lab straight out of a Universal horror classic, and dressing them in sexy diaphanous nightgowns (because why not), Ze finds all of his captives to be unwilling, with the notable exception of Marcia (Nadia Frietas). Marcia proves herself courageous and worthy to be the mother of Ze's child, but when Ze murders those who failed his trial of suitability (by having them subjected to having dozens of tarantulas crawl all over their nubile bodies), Marcia rejects him. 

Unpleasant dreams.

Ze takes this as a sign of weakness, declares her a disappointment, and opts to release her, secure in the knowledge that she will not report him to the authorities because his winning ways have somehow nonetheless secured her affection and loyalty. (Don't ask me. I didn't write this.)

Worst version of THE BACHELOR ever.

Ze then shifts his breeding attentions to the sweet Laura (Tina Wohlers), the daughter of a respected local colonel, and in no time flat she falls under the spell of his manly charms and runs off with Ze. With the help of Marcia, Ze frames Truncador (Antoni Fracari), the colonel's hired muscle (literally, as he's a musclebound slab of a man), for the murder of Laura's brother, whose head was actually crushed beneath a massive stone weight by Ze and Bruno. 

But Ze's new life with Laura hits a snag when he discovers one of the women he kidnapped and murdered was pregnant, and he remembers her cursing him with her dying breath. Despite his innumerable flaws, Zé do Caixão somehow genuinely loves children (he's previously been seen protecting innocent kids in this and the previous installment), so he finds himself wracked with guilt over having unwittingly murdered an unborn baby. In a truly memorable sequence, Ze imagines himself pulled from his bed and dragged screaming to a graveyard, where the hands of the damned claw their way through the soil and drag him down to a garish Technicolor Hell, which effectively counterpoints the rest of the film's moody monochrome, even envisioning His Satanic Majesty as a dead ringer for himself. 

Ze is dragged from his bed...

 Forced to witness the tortures of Hell...

And confronted with a Satan who is a dead ringer for himself.

(Though nowhere near as extreme in its visual depiction of the horrors of the underworld, what we get here makes me wonder if Marins had seen and been influenced by Nobuo Nakagawa's 1960 JIGOKU.)

Ze's misery is short-lived as Laura announces she is pregnant (as "The Hallelujah Chorus" blares on the soundtrack). Overjoyed, Ze cannot wait to tell the people the good news — which just goes to show how oblivious and self-absorbed he is, as the entire village hates his guts. But Laura's exceedingly pissed-off  father has sprung the framed Trucador from jail and Trucador hires a pack of hardened professional thugs to take care of Zé do Caixão once and for all, and everyone in town clears the streets as the shit's about to go down. However, Zé do Caixão is determined to witness the advent of his son, so he is absolutely not going out without giving as good as he gets, or even worse. Events crescendo to a climax marked by a tough choice for Ze and righteous vengeance for the fed-up townsfolk, plus to say nothing of the spirit of the murdered woman who cursed him...

With THIS NIGHT I'LL POSSESS YOUR CORPSE, the overall production is a considerable refinement of what its predecessor brought to the table, with its performances conveyed in a naturalistic manner as opposed to the spooky Sunday school play histrionics of AT MIDNIGHT I'LL TAKE YOUR SOUL. Boasting a more rounded script and slicker production values than the DIY charms of the first outing, the film achieves far more than merely being offensive to the devout. Whereas he was originally conceived to viscerally shock Brazil's native Catholic audience, Ze is no longer a caricature of evil rendered in the most broad and over-the-top of strokes. Marins displays a considerable depth of range while essaying what could easily have been a one-note character, and this film allows him to explore what motivates this fascinating figure of near-absolute immorality. We are treated to more of his philosophical ruminations upon life, death, and the nature of existence, all of which grants Zé do Caixão more genuine personality and twisted logic to his motivations than the vast majority of horror movie villains. We may not like the guy, but we sure as hell understand what he's striving for, no matter how warped the path he takes to reach his goals. It's a tour de force performance that held me invested throughout, and it's no wonder why Zé do Caixão has since become something of an iconic face on the international horror landscape.

Marins and Zé do Caixão returned some 40 years later in 2008's EMBODIMENT OF EVIL, and I am absolutely interested in tracking it down to review for next year's round of 31 DAYS OF HORROR. I just hope that Marins lost none of his signature touch during the intervening decades...

Poster from the original theatrical release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2019-Day 17: AT MIDNIGHT I'LL TAKE YOUR SOUL (1964)

When a movie opens with a witch warning you not to watch it, you know you're onto something.

In a small Brazilian town, sinister undertaker Zé do Caixão — commonly translated into English as "Coffin Joe" — terrorizes the locals with his nasty, violent nature and obsesses over the continuation of his lineage with a son. Unfortunately, his wife cannot conceive children, so Ze sets his sights on his best friend's fiancee, who wants nothing to do with him, and embarks on a campaign of murder and brutality in order to achieve his goal.

Of interest for a number of reasons, including it being Brazil's first horror film, AT MIDNIGHT I'LL TAKE YOUR SOUL is less of what American horror fans might consider a straight "horror" movie per se, but is instead rather a character study about utter immorality that comes into direct conflict with the strictures of hardcore Latin-style Catholicism. Virtually every aspect of Zé do Caixão himself is an affront to the Catholic faith and all it stands for, so his depiction must have been quite a kick in the head for believers in his native audience. Brought to vivid, histrionic life by multitasking filmmaker José Mojica Marins, Ze is perpetually dressed in a black suit with cape and top hat (presumably proper attire for his profession in that era) but for all intents and purposes he resembles some sort of baleful dabbler in the black arts or some kind of South American iteration of the classical Gothic vampire. He also sports long, talon-like nails and exudes an air of near-palpable evil, so his mere presence is quite off-putting. Plus to say nothing of the fact that he is an aggressively unrepentant asshole in general.

The study in gallant, feel-good charm that is Zé do Caixão (José Mojica Marins).

The acts that Ze gets up to amount to a catalog of distinctly indecent behavior that is frowned upon by basically any religion one can name, but his transgressions bear considerable weight when factored against how a good practicing Catholic is supposed to conduct oneself. Among Ze's many, many offenses can be counted blasphemy, the eating of meat on a Friday during lent (which he defiantly and amusingly does in full view of a priest-led procession of the faithful that passes by his open window), unabashed lust, betrayal of friends, intent to rape, association with witches, savage abuse of women, acts of unprovoked violence and mutilation, and a couple of instances of outright murder.

Kiss those eyes goodbye, dude.

With its atmospheric setting being pretty much a South American answer to classic Universal or Hammer's European hamlets where all manner of diabolical ghastliness occurs, the true horror here is the towering assholism of Zé do Caixão, a human monster in no uncertain terms. Though wielding no supernatural powers or special knowledge of the "darke artes," in terms of sheer malevolence, Ze easily earns his place among the roster of all-time great evil cinematic presences. Sure, he's very culturally and era-specific, but that's what makes him interesting and worth checking out, and believe me, there's more to come...

Poster for the theatrical release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2019-Day 16: ROSEMARY'S BABY (1968)

Remember, kids: Anagrams keep you on point.

It's 1965 and young marrieds Rosemary (Mia Farrow) and Guy Woodhouse (John Cassavetes) move into NYC's Branford building, an opulent and ominous apartment complex that has a long history of association with cannibalism, witchcraft, and murder, thus earning it the nickname "the Black Branford." Guy is an aspiring theater actor who can't catch a break, while Rosemary is a stereotypical WASPy Catholic who's the epitome of the "good girl." Upon moving in, Rosemary befriends Terry (Victoria Vetri), another young female tenant who is the focus of the rather intrusive attentions of Roman (Sidney Blackmer) and Minnie Castavet (Ruth Gordon), a pair of elderly residents who have been in the building for ages. When Terry dies in a questionable manner that appears to be a grisly suicide, the Castavets, transfer their intrusive presence to Guy and Rosemary, suddenly expressing an obsessive interest in whether or not the young couple plans on having children. Humoring the Castavets out of consideration for their grief over the loss of their pregnant object of attention, the Woodhouses allow the oldsters into their lives, and from then on Roman and Minnie, especially Minnie, become an almost-constant presence. They introduce the Woodhouses to their group of equally decrepit friends and Guy strangely becomes firmly entrenched in their group.

Then comes an evening when the young marrieds enjoy a meal and some wine, just the two of them, and Rosemary becomes quite drunk, more drunk than one should be from just a few glasses of wine. Guy takes her to bed, where Rosemary slips in and out of consciousness, seemingly dreaming the presence of the Castavets and their crew of fogies along with Guy, all of them naked and surrounding her now-naked body on her bed.

It is then that a vision of the Devil himself enters the scene...and Rosemary. As Rosemary is apparently ceremonially raped by Satan, she perceives, to her utter horror, what's happening not as a dream, but as an event occurring in the very immediate here and now. 

Upon waking the following morning, a hungover Rosemary notes scratches all over her body, which Guy explains away by creepily stating that the wine got the better of him during the previous night, so he had sex with the totally out-of-it Rosemary, noting that he got so into it that he ended up scratching her with his nails, which he notes he subsequently filed down...

Rosemary finds herself pregnant and she is over the moon with happiness, joyously imagining a son named "Andy," and once the news is out the Castavets and he rest of the coffin-dodgers become inescapable. The old women feed Rosemary weird concoctions cited as "folk remedies" that will help with her pregnancy, along with giving her a charm of Tannis root to be worn around her neck as a kind of good luck charm for an expectant mother. This charm also happened to be identical to one worn by the deceased Terry, and it too was a gift from the Castavets... And while all of this is going on, Guy's acting career suddenly begins to ignite.

For the rest of her progressing pregnancy, Rosemary is pretty much kept isolated from the outside world, save for the regular fixtures of Guy and the Castavets. Her physical health undergoes a number of very bizarre changes, but Dr. Saperstein, an obstetrician conveniently recommended by Roman and Minnie (who just so happen to be tight with him), takes over her prenatal care and assures her that everything is going just fine, despite all the evidence to the contrary. Rosemary's best friend, an older gentleman named Hutch (Maurice Evans), takes note of all of this and, already being aware of the Branford's dark history, starts looking into matters. Hutch then unexpectedly dies, but he leaves Rosemary a copy of the book ALL OF THEM WITCHES, along with a warning that "the name is an anagram." With that mystery set before her and her date for giving birth fast approaching, Rosemary begins to piece together the dire truth behind all that's been going on, and that truth is one that a good Catholic girl is in no way prepared for, especially not in the allegedly rational/empirical New York City of the 20th century... 

 

Rosemary meets her bouncing baby boy...

In the five years prior to the release of THE EXORCIST and the deluge of diabolical fare that swiftly followed in its wake, the film adaptation of ROSEMARY'S BABY, from the best-selling novel by Ira Levin, was the "big one" in the sub-genre of devil cinema, and it remains one of the very finest of such entries. A study in suspense from the word "go," the narrative is firmly grounded in a wholly believable reality, and it is that utter realism that makes the story work. This is not a "BOO!!!" tale meant to send viewers jumping out of their seats. Oh, no; it is instead a well-paced slow burn of tension and escalating paranoia that makes us wonder if all of this devil nonsense is all just in Rosemary's head. It's  very low-key in terms of visceral shocks expected from the horror flavor, but when one sits down and really thinks through all that has been done to Rosemary, especially by her fully-complicit piece of shit of a husband, the Devil almost comes off as something of a Piker when one does all the math.

Bottom line: ROSEMARY'S BABY is at the top of the heap of the entire horror genre, or any other type of cinema for that matter, and that's a considerable achievement. Director Roman Polanski — yes, that Roman Polanski —wove a masterwork with this one, and it's perfect in just about every way. In fact, if truth be told, ROSEMARY'S BABY was my very favorite horror film from the time I was nine until I hit my mid-twenties, largely due to just how well-crafted and believable it was. But as I grew older and began to approach the horror genre as something for consideration as an art form,   THE TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE  (1974) took its place as my favorite, by virtue of it being the elemental cautionary horror story told at its most basic for the modern era. ROSEMARY'S BABY, on the other hand, is anything but basic, as it examines a number of deep-rooted fears within the human psyche, with the fears of the unknown aspects of a woman's first experiences with the primal realities of pregnancy, childbirth, and motherhood. A simple campfire spooker this ain't, and over five decades later it still stands as a towering achievement in its niche. One of the all-time classics, if you have not see this, watch it immediately.

Just be sure to skip the awful made-for-TV sequel, LOOK WHAT'S HAPPENED TO ROSEMARY'S BABY (1976) and the dreadful sequel novel, SON OF ROSEMARY (1997), also by original author Ira Levin, which features possibly the very worst ending that I have ever read in any novel. Just so you won't waste your time reading that outright waste of trees, allow me to spoil the ending for you: Rosemary's son has grown up to age 33 and is about to embark on a plan that will destroy all human life on earth, with a now-aged Rosemary as the one positioned to thwart him. As things come to Satanic fruition, Rosemary suddenly awakens and it's 1965. The events f the first novel/movie adaptation and the sequel novel were all just in bad dream brought on by her reading Bram Stoker's DRACULA in bed. No, seriously. I shit you not, that's actually how the book ended, thus rendering one of the best horror stories ever told utterly null and void. In the words of my late, esteemed Christian grandmother, "FUCK THAT BULLSHIT."

Poster from the theatrical relase.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2019-Day 15: DEEP BLUE SEA (1999)

Darling, it's better down where it's wetter...NOT.

At the isolated Aquatica undersea research lab, bio-engineers seek the cure for Alzheimer's disease by chemically altering the brains of deadly Mako sharks, making them super-intelligent in the process. What could possibly go wrong? The answer to that sarcastic question is "pretty much everything," as the sharks go buck-wild, graphically kicking things off by depriving one of the scientists of his arm.

You, sir, are royally fucked.

Medical evac is called for but the rescue effort is thwarted by a severe storm while the pissed-off sharks attack the submerged lab, flooding the facility and trapping the occupants within. As the water level rises and the humans attempt to make their way up through the structure to the surface, the site becomes a watery, claustrophobic labyrinth in which relentless, razor-toothed death lurks around every corner.

Basically a DOCTOR WHO-style "base under siege" story, DEEP BLUE SEA enjoys something of a mixed reputation, depending on who you ask, and I come down firmly in the camp of those who love it. Directed by Renny Harlin, who had previously provided such solid actioners as DIE HARD 2 (1990), CLIFFHANGER (1993), and the criminally-underrated THE LONG KISS GOODNIGHT (1996), the film is very "Hollywood slick" for what is essentially a popcorn-muncher of a monster movie, but it is undeniably suspenseful as hell and a great deal of fun. I pretty much summed up the gist of the story, though I intentionally shied away from giving away too much, as the film packs a good number of very visceral surprises, including one truly shocking and utterly memorable moment that has earned the movie smiles of remembrance once it comes up in conversation. If you've seen this film, you know exactly what moment I'm referring to.

When your day at work goes from bad to worse.

In the wake of the international blockbuster success of JAWS, filmmakers around the world sought to cash in and unleashed a torrent of mostly awful shark movies, so when looking at shark thrillers as a sub-genre of horror, the roster of genuinely good or worthwhile entries is indeed a short one. Thankfully, DEEP BLUE SEA is one of the best of the lot, and it comes in third in my personal ranking of "shark as sea monster" flicks, with  THE SHALLOWS at number 2 and, of course, JAWS taking the top spot. Absolutely worth your time and featuring terrific-looking sharks and some very nasty kills, this one is popcorn cinema at its most enjoyable.

(SIDE NOTE: This film came out around the same time as THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, and after my friends and I saw that critical and box office darling and found it to be a boring, un-scary disappointment, we sought to salve our irritation by going to DEEP BLUE SEA. It did the trick.)

Poster from the theatrical release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2019-Day 14: CURSED Unrated Version (2004)

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes...

It's funny how returning to a movie over a decade after first seeing it can rewrite one's opinion on the piece. Case in point, legendary horror auteur Wes Craven's much-maligned CURSED, a werewolf outing that fell victim to studio tampering and neutering. As stated previously in some of this series' previous essays, werewolves are my very favorite of the go-to horror mainstays, so I'm willing to sit through pretty much anything featuring them, but more often than not they are ill-served by bad scripts or unimaginatively-handled budgetary limitations. When CURSED came out it was lambasted as possibly the worst of Wes Craven's efforts, but that was a criticism hurled at the film for its castrated PG-13 version. The behind-the-scenes accounts of constant studio meddling and rewrites, plus the unthinkable firing of practical effects wizard Rick Baker — the Academy Award-winning hand behind the groundbreaking makeup and practical effects for AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON — painted the picture of a doomed production, so fans of the genre responded with something other than open-armed enthusiasm. But now it's a hell of a lot better with the benefit of hindsight. With the furor over how its theatrical version was raped by the Weinsteins pretty much forgotten in the years since the theatrical release, the film, especially in its originally-intended version, can finally be fairly reappraised. It's really pretty good and in no way deserves the reputation it's been saddled with, and I say that as a person who initially found it a disappointment. It's also fun to see it now, as most of its cast has since gone on to bigger and better things and are now recognizable commodities.

The plot deals with a pair of siblings (Christina Ricci and Jesse Eisenberg) who hit an animal while driving late at night, causing a devastating car wreck. When they attempt to rescue the driver of the car they collided with, their efforts are cut short when the driver is pulled from the wreckage by a ravening beast and literally torn in half. As the brother and sister attempt to flee, the beast attacks the pair of them, causing minor wounds. They manage to escape but it soon becomes apparent that they have survived an attack by a straight-up werewolf, and they begin to display the heightened senses granted by the lycanthropic curse. Further complicating matters is the fact that the werewolf is still out there and rampaging and it appears to be getting closer to our protagonists, but for what purpose?

The unrated CURSED has the feel of teen/YA horror along the lines of BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER, only with considerably more gore and violence, and as such it's a lot of fun. There are a number of surprises and a couple of genuinely good twists that keep the expected tropes fresh, and it all moves at a brisk pace.Too bad the studio opted to neuter its impact in pursuit of a more lucrative PG-13 rating and replacing Baker's work with CGI effects.

Not only does this werewolf talk, it flips the bird to its pursuers.

The film is also of interest to horror fans for being arguably the most-lightweight of Wes Craven's efforts. It's not at all a flavor that one would expect from the director who gave the genre such landmarks as THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT (1972), THE HILLS HAVE EYES (1977), A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET (1984), and SCREAM (1996), and as such it is worth a second look. Not as strong meat as all-time classics of the werewolf roster, such as THE WOLF MAN (1941), THE CURSE OF THE WEREWOLF (1961), THE HOWLING and AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON (both 1981), or even more recent works such as DOG SOLDIERS (2002) and LATE PHASES (2014), but definitely worth including in your library of lycanthrope flicks. Juts make sure you get your hands on the unrated version, as the visceral, rapacious activities of werewolves need to be as ferociously bloody as possible, as befits one of the horror genre's apex predators.

Packaging art for the unrated home video release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2019-Day 13: FROM HELL IT CAME (1957)

"'Scuse me while I make like a tree...and leaf! I'm here all week, folks!"

A Polynesian prince is betrayed by a usurper (with the willing aid of his duplicitous wife) and is wrongfully executed for the death of his father, a demise actually caused a plague that happens to occur at the same time as fallout from a nearby U.S. atomic bomb test. When his body is dumped into a swamp, a creepy-looking tree grows grows from the spot where his corpse landed, and the tree is uprooted and taken into a lab for examination by American scientists who are present to monitor the effects of the aforementioned fallout. This being the 1950's, the scientists of course infuse the tree with radioactive chemicals, and in no time the prince is reborn as an awkwardly-shambling tree-monster called the "Tabonga." The Tabonga goes on a cheapjack rampage, exacting vengeance upon those who wronged him during his life as the prince, plus a few ancillary victims for spice.

The Tabonga: Treebeard he ain't. 

I first saw FROM HELL IT CAME during my formative "monster kid" years, and I distinctly remember the five-year-old me saying to myself, "Okay, this is just ridiculous." I mean, really. The Tabonga is first and foremost a goddamned tree, reanimated vengeance-seeking spirit or not, and as such it's not exactly going to get around with speed and grace to match Jesse Owens. It's clear that the poor bastard squeezed into the cumbersome and borderline-immobile could barely put one foot in front of the other, let alone see where he was going, and it would seem to be a pretty easy task to avoid such a creature, but the Tabonga nonetheless manages to grab and kill people and kidnap women for nefarious purposes. (Though not of the EVIL DEAD variety, thank the gods.)

Not even gonna try and pretend this is in any way a good movie — it's not — but FROM HELL IT CAME is a fun and ridiculous way to kill 71 minutes, and I recommend it for its utterly phony "Hollywood" depiction of South Seas island culture and the Tabonga. Yes, it's utterly ludicrous-looking and not scary worth a damn, but it's certainly memorable in the charming way the monsters from childhood favorites like LOST IN SPACE and ULTRAMAN are. In fact, the Tabonga would have been pretty cool if it had had the luck to have been deployed in a DOCTOR WHO story airing anywhere between 1965 and 1976. Worth a look for possible Halloween costume/cosplay inspiration.

Poster from the theatrical release.

31 DYAS OF HORROR 2019-Day 12: A GIRL WALKS HOME ALONE AT NIGHT (2014)

A new take on "finger food."

In a desolate, surreal borderline-ghost town in modern Iran, a silent, chador-wearing vampire (Shiela Vand) stalks the nighttime streets in search of prey. Her adventures bring her into the lives of a hard-working young handyman (Arash Marandi) who is burdening with caring for his heroin-addicted father (Marshall Manesh), a nasty drug-dealing pimp (Dominic Rains), an aging prostitute (Mozhan Marnò), and a money-grubbing street urchin. The dreamlike narrative flows at a leisurely pace and offers a welcome reprieve from the sparkly teen-angst nonsense of TWILIGHT and other recent vampire stories that pretty much neutered the undead suckface as a staple horror entity, and it wears its black-and-white art house origins on its sleeve.

Shiela Vand as the unnamed vampire, listed in the credits as "The Girl."

Rich in atmosphere and definitely worth checking out, some hail this work as beings something of a modern classic, possibly even "the best vampire film ever made," and while I did find it interesting while watching it, the more time I have had to think about it, the more I find it be be noteworthy but sometimes too artsy for its own good. The script and performances are quite solid, but if one is looking for genuine visceral scares, this is not the film for you. The gore is minimal — though a scene involving a finger is a real "Oh, SHIT!!!" moment — and the piece is the slowest of slow burns, but I really liked Shiela Vand's vampire, whose chador replaces the requisite opera cape as an eerie shroud, especially as she makes her way through the barren urban wasteland like a lonely shadow. If I had to single out a favorite moment, it's when the vampire decides to fuck with the head of the aforementioned street kid. During that sequence the audience is completely aware of what she is, but the child is not (at first), so when she blocks his path no matter which way he turns, it's unnerving. She draws him close and reveals her fangs, thus alerting him to the indisputable fact that his life is utterly in her hands, and though she does not feed upon him she lets him know that she could at any moment she wished and that he had better be good, for she will be keeping her eye on him. It's subtle, genuinely terrifying in a very quiet and intimate way, and it's vexing that the rest of the film could not maintain that level of edge-of-your seat tension throughout.

Shot on a budget that would not buy a decent bucket of friend chicken, writer/director Ana Lily Amirpour turns in a well-crafted directorial debut that is worthy of praise, despite my own personal reservations regarding certain aspects of the film. It's better-crafted than major studio productions whose budgets could fund small countries and it displays more creativity than the churned-out product that gluts the nation's movie screens, so it's worthy of support. And though it's an American film that was shot in California, A GIRL WALKS HOME ALONE AT NIGHT is entirely in Farsi with English subtitles, which gives it the feel and flavor of a foreign film in the guise of an art house modern-day western with at vampire as its nexus. It's a strange little film, and I'm intrigued by where Amirpour's evolution as a filmmaker will take her and her audience going forward.

Poster from the theatrical release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2019-Day 11: MONSTER HOUSE (2006)

A haunted house and then some.

Every neighborhood has the one house that everyone avoids, and in the case of young D.J. and his best friend, Chowder, that distinction falls on the dilapidated home of old man Nebbercracker. Nebbercracker is the personification of every scary old "You kids git offa my lawn" stereotype, going so far as to confiscate any toys or tricycles and such that wind up in his yard, along with ominously extending the warning "You'll be dead!!!" to any terrified children who trespass. 

Old man Nebbercracker.

But while most such houses in suburban neighborhoods in stories of this ilk usually turn out to simply be bolstered by years of urban legend and misunderstanding, the Nebbercracker domicile actually is alive and nasty, regularly devouring locals and pets. The two boys both witness the house's malevolence and fail in their attempts at convincing those older than themselves of the clear and present danger, but the pair are soon joined by private school girl Jenny Bennett (whom both lads are crushing hard over) and the trio joins forces to put a stop to the ravenous abode.

Jenny, D.J., and Chowder: an entry-level Scooby Gang.

MONSTER HOUSE is a fun and family-friendly horror offering that serves quite nicely as a gateway piece for the little ones, though things do get a bit scary during the last act, when the secret of the house is revealed and the dwelling goes on a rampage of destruction through the neighborhood. It's about as pure and simple as it gets, and it refreshingly shies away from the puerile gags that the makers of films for children seem to think should be shoehorned into all such fare. MONSTER HOUSE is there to bring some spooky fun to younger audiences and it succeeds at doing so while respecting the imagination and intelligence of kids. Definitely recommended for the young 'uns, and also fun for now-grown former "monster kids."

Poster from the theatrical release.