Shocktober Revisited: The Skull

  The Skull is a movie I had heard about but hadn't seen until very recently. For some reason, I had it in my mind that it was a more obscure Hammer title, but in fact it's an Amicus release. If that name doesn't sound familiar, I'd be willing to wager that most horror fans have seen at least one of their anthology films*: Tales from the Crypt, The Vault of Horror, From Beyond the Grave, Dr. Terror's House of Horror, Asylum, or The House that Dripped Blood. The Skull is one of their non-anthology releases, and while it's a minor entry in the realm of British Horror, there are enough creepy and / or surreal flourishes to recommend the film - if you can find it.

 If this were a spoiler, I'd mark it accordingly, but before any character identifies the person who the titular object belongs to, the credits give it away by saying the film is based on Robert Bloch's "The Skull of the Marquis de Sade." After a prologue where a grave robbing phrenologist (Maurice Good) steals the Marquis' head and meets and unfortunate end for it, we move to modern day London. Amateur demonologist and collector Dr. Christopher Maitland (Peter Cushing) is at an auction and in a friendly bidding war with fellow collector Sir Matthew Phillips ("Guest Star" Christopher Lee) over a few statues representing Hell's hierarchy. Phillips bids far more than the statues are worth, but cannot explain why he was so intent on purchasing them.

 Maitland returns home, and is visited by the unsavory Anthony Marco (Patrick Wymark), who "acquires" rare pieces and sells them - cash only, please. He offers Maitland a copy of The Life of the Marquis de Sade, a book bound in human flesh, with a promise he has something "even more interesting" to bring the next night. Despite Maitland's wife, Jane (Jill Bennett)'s protestations, Marco prefers to let himself in, and the good doctor tells him that Marco is "always welcome." The following night, Marco brings along the skull of the Marquis de Sade, and seems willing to part with it for less than his initial offering price. Maitland is suspicious that it's stolen, and his suspicions are concerned when Phillips vouches for the authenticity of the object. It was stolen from him, and he doesn't want it back: the skull of the Marquis de Sade brings with it evil spirits who drive men to do horrible things during the new moon.

 But as The Skull is a horror movie, we know that Maitland will give in to temptation. It's a "curiosity killed the cat" sort of story, and while it sometimes drags a bit during its 83 minutes, once the skull starts working on Maitland, there are a few stylistic flourishes that keep you invested. The film features a rare pairing of Cushing and Lee where the latter is the voice of reason, which is worth watching, and there are a few small parts for recognizable British actors: Michael Gough (Batman) appears early as an auctioneer, and Patrick Magee (Die, Monster, Die!) is the police surgeon baffled by the means in which Marco meets his end (SPOILER). Genre go-to director Freddie Francis (Tales That Witness Madness) stages Marco's death scene without ever showing him die, in what is both an excellent bit of narrative suggestion but also a surreal break in the mostly straightforward narrative.

 Maitland hasn't decided to buy the skull yet, and is sitting in his study reading The Life of the Marquis de Sade, when his window begins to glow a strange green hue. Two policemen arrive and inform him he's under arrest, but will not tell him what he's charged with. Instead of taking him to the station, he finds himself in a large, mostly empty room. In the center is the Judge (Frank Forsyth), who never utters a word but instructs the "police" to force Maitland to play a game of Russian Roulette. When he lives, he's shoved into a red room which serves as a sort of "gas chamber" and awakens to find himself in the stairwell of Marco's apartment, a place he's never been before. Thanks to a flashback to the phrenologist's home, where his Executor is hypnotized by the skull and murders the dead man's mistress, we know that the skull is capable of creating a trance-like state, but the dream sequence adds a better sense of mystery to The Skull's midpoint.

 It also introduces the stairwell for a scene later, when Maitland returns to take the skull and confronts Marco's landlord (Peter Woodthorpe), leading to a death scene that may well have influenced the "stained glass" kill in Suspiria. I certainly thought of Argento's film when it happened, although the latter film embellishes the end result more than the earlier one does. There are several moments throughout the second half of The Skull with suspense and atmosphere, and despite some obvious wires carrying it around, the image of the floating head is striking.

 The (mostly) wordless climactic battle of wills between Maitland and the evil spirits goes on for far too long and becomes bogged down with awkwardly place religious imagery (although the return of one of the statues from the beginning is a nice touch). I get the impression that Francis and screenwriter Milton Subotsky (I, Monster) were trying to whip the audience into a frenzy of terror, but the lasting impression is more of histrionics than fear. I appreciate the ending, but at times it feels that The Skull might have been better as a part of an anthology rather than a feature unto itself. Still, for fans of Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, it's worth seeking out as a minor chiller.





*They also released both of the Peter Cushing "Dr. Who" movies, but we won't get into that.

Quick Review: The Skull

 Like the previously reviewed Spider Baby, The Skull is a movie I had heard about but hadn't seen until very recently. For some reason, I had it in my mind that it was a more obscure Hammer title, but in fact it's an Amicus release. If that name doesn't sound familiar, I'd be willing to wager that most horror fans have seen at least one of their anthology films*: Tales from the Crypt, The Vault of Horror, From Beyond the Grave, Dr. Terror's House of Horror, Asylum, or The House that Dripped Blood. The Skull is one of their non-anthology releases, and while it's a minor entry in the realm of British Horror, there are enough creepy and / or surreal flourishes to recommend the film - if you can find it.

 If this were a spoiler, I'd mark it accordingly, but before any character identifies the person who the titular object belongs to, the credits give it away by saying the film is based on Robert Bloch's "The Skull of the Marquis de Sade." After a prologue where a grave robbing phrenologist (Maurice Good) steals the Marquis' head and meets and unfortunate end for it, we move to modern day London. Amateur demonologist and collector Dr. Christopher Maitland (Peter Cushing) is at an auction and in a friendly bidding war with fellow collector Sir Matthew Phillips ("Guest Star" Christopher Lee) over a few statues representing Hell's hierarchy. Phillips bids far more than the statues are worth, but cannot explain why he was so intent on purchasing them.

 Maitland returns home, and is visited by the unsavory Anthony Marco (Patrick Wymark), who "acquires" rare pieces and sells them - cash only, please. He offers Maitland a copy of The Life of the Marquis de Sade, a book bound in human flesh, with a promise he has something "even more interesting" to bring the next night. Despite Maitland's wife, Jane (Jill Bennett)'s protestations, Marco prefers to let himself in, and the good doctor tells him that Marco is "always welcome." The following night, Marco brings along the skull of the Marquis de Sade, and seems willing to part with it for less than his initial offering price. Maitland is suspicious that it's stolen, and his suspicions are concerned when Phillips vouches for the authenticity of the object. It was stolen from him, and he doesn't want it back: the skull of the Marquis de Sade brings with it evil spirits who drive men to do horrible things during the new moon.

 But as The Skull is a horror movie, we know that Maitland will give in to temptation. It's a "curiosity killed the cat" sort of story, and while it sometimes drags a bit during its 83 minutes, once the skull starts working on Maitland, there are a few stylistic flourishes that keep you invested. The film features a rare pairing of Cushing and Lee where the latter is the voice of reason, which is worth watching, and there are a few small parts for recognizable British actors: Michael Gough (Batman) appears early as an auctioneer, and Patrick Magee (Die, Monster, Die!) is the police surgeon baffled by the means in which Marco meets his end (SPOILER). Genre go-to director Freddie Francis (Tales That Witness Madness) stages Marco's death scene without ever showing him die, in what is both an excellent bit of narrative suggestion but also a surreal break in the mostly straightforward narrative.

 Maitland hasn't decided to buy the skull yet, and is sitting in his study reading The Life of the Marquis de Sade, when his window begins to glow a strange green hue. Two policemen arrive and inform him he's under arrest, but will not tell him what he's charged with. Instead of taking him to the station, he finds himself in a large, mostly empty room. In the center is the Judge (Frank Forsyth), who never utters a word but instructs the "police" to force Maitland to play a game of Russian Roulette. When he lives, he's shoved into a red room which serves as a sort of "gas chamber" and awakens to find himself in the stairwell of Marco's apartment, a place he's never been before. Thanks to a flashback to the phrenologist's home, where his Executor is hypnotized by the skull and murders the dead man's mistress, we know that the skull is capable of creating a trance-like state, but the dream sequence adds a better sense of mystery to The Skull's midpoint.

 It also introduces the stairwell for a scene later, when Maitland returns to take the skull and confronts Marco's landlord (Peter Woodthorpe), leading to a death scene that may well have influenced the "stained glass" kill in Suspiria. I certainly thought of Argento's film when it happened, although the latter film embellishes the end result more than the earlier one does. There are several moments throughout the second half of The Skull with suspense and atmosphere, and despite some obvious wires carrying it around, the image of the floating head is striking.

 The (mostly) wordless climactic battle of wills between Maitland and the evil spirits goes on for far too long and becomes bogged down with awkwardly place religious imagery (although the return of one of the statues from the beginning is a nice touch). I get the impression that Francis and screenwriter Milton Subotsky (I, Monster) were trying to whip the audience into a frenzy of terror, but the lasting impression is more of histrionics than fear. I appreciate the ending, but at times it feels that The Skull might have been better as a part of an anthology rather than a feature unto itself. Still, for fans of Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, it's worth seeking out as a minor chiller.





*They also released both of the Peter Cushing "Dr. Who" movies, but we won't get into that.

Blogorium Review: Hugo

 When reading reviews for Martin Scorsese's Hugo, his first 3-D film (and arguably first family film, although I certainly don't see how you could say that when Bringing Out the Dead has been out for thirteen years), they tend to fall into one of two categories: the ones that tell you about who one of the major characters in the film actually is and the ones that don't. The ones that don't limit themselves, because then you can only vaguely dance around what happens in the second half of Hugo. Since it's been out for a while now and I think you're all capable of handling a "spoiler," I'm going to go ahead and tell you - in a few paragraphs.

 If you're afraid that this might ruin your experience of watching Hugo (double SPOILER: it won't), please know that it's a fine film that does not actually represent a) Scorsese selling out, or b) the decline of cinema through more 3-D gimmickry. It's a fine film, one that adults and children alike will enjoy, and is a celebration of the art of cinema in the purest sense. I firmly believe you'll have a fine time watching Hugo and your kids might even learn something about the so-called "boring" world of silent, black-and-white cinema. I bet you could even get them to sit down and watch The Artist with you afterward. Well, that's your spoiler-free review. There are a few more paragraphs and then I'll go ahead and blow the "twist," so if that frets you, stick around as long as you feel comfortable, knowing I dug the film.

 Early on, I was worried about Hugo for two reasons. The first one is that it's readily apparent when you're watching Hugo in 2-D (which is how most of you will be seeing it on home video) that the opening is meant to be seen in 3-D, and it's a little disconcerting. The opening shot where Scorsese travels through the train station, passing between trains and through the crowds milling about, has a strange processed look like a computer was designed to process layers in a 3-D manner. I'm not describing it effectively, but that's because it's the sort of thing you'll understand when you see it. Likewise, when Hugo Cabret (Asa Butterfield) is running around through the innards of the train station, between pipes and clockwork, it's readily apparent we're missing out on some level of extra-dimensionality. I was greatly concerned this would affect watching Hugo in the only way I could (at the time), but the film gradually settles down these flourishes by the time the narrative kicks in.

 Of greater concern was the opening segment designed to introduce the people who work in the train station. Things start off innocently enough with Papa Georges (Ben Kingsley) and his adopted "daughter" Isabelle (Chloë Grace Moretz), but then we start meeting people who seem to fill anonymous, stock roles you need for kids' movies. There's the fat guy, Monsieur Frick (Richard Griffiths), who has a crush on the lady with the hat and dog, Madame Emilie (Frances de la Tour). The dog doesn't like the man, so he's scared away. There's the nice flower lady, Lisette (Emily Mortimer), a creepy looking librarian, Monsieur Labisse (Christopher Lee), and Django Reinhardt (Emil Lager), who plays with his band.

 And then what I call the "stupid kids' crap" happens, and that REALLY worried me. See, the thing I hate about movies for kids is the idea that there need to be shenanigans that children will enjoy in order to keep them engaged, so the chase scene between Hugo, the Station Inspector (Sacha Baron Cohen), and his doberman was cause for concern. Not only are there plenty of pratfalls for Cohen, who has a brace on one leg and runs awkwardly, including the inspector running into a cello and knocking over tables and chairs, but the scene culminates in the kind of groan-inducing slapstick I hate. Hugo manages to escape because one of the train doors catches the Inspector's brace, and he is dragged alongside the train until a few well placed pieces of luggage and boxes provide us with a "nut-shot," followed by a shot of the doberman looking away, embarrassed by his owner.

 Thankfully, that's largely the extent of the "kids' movie crap" that prevented me from enjoying Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone and most live action films with child protagonists (with the exception, of course, of Catch That Kid). After Martin Scorsese puts the pieces in place, he begins to focus less on pratfalls and anthropomorphic reaction shots, and more on a central mystery: the automation Hugo has been trying to fix. That, in large part, links Cabret with Isabelle, Georges, and his wife Jeanne (Helen McCrory).

 Papa Georges, it turns out, is Georges Méliès, one of the early pioneers of fantasy films and special effects, best known for making Le Voyage dans la lune (A Trip to the Moon) that everyone who ever took a film appreciation class or has opened a book on film history knows. By the time Hugo takes place, his films have all been lost and his career forgotten, and Georges works in the train station selling wind-up toys. I'm not really sure that his identity is such a spoiler, since there's a poster for A Trip to the Moon prominently displayed on the wall of his shop*. The filmmaker refuses to talk about his past, until Hugo and Isabelle meet Rene Tabard (Michael Stuhlbarg), a film historian who happens to have found one of the "lost" films of Méliès. While the mystery of the automaton is tied up into this revelation, the second half of Hugo is largely about Méliès and appreciating film's impact on audiences.

 I haven't read The Invention of Hugo Cabret by Brian Selznick (the grandcousin[?] of film producer David O. Selznick) so I don't know if it pushes for film preservation and retrospectives as much as Hugo does or if that's Scorsese's fetish shining through (screenwriter John Logan too, I suppose). Either way, once Scorsese gets tired to stupid kid crap, Hugo makes a turn in the right direction, first as a movie about horrible things that happened to Hugo Cabret before we meet him, and then as a love letter to the movies. The stock characters filling up the train station begin to flesh out a bit more, and suddenly it feels like we're watching a real movie and not a dumb kid's movie from the director of frequently violent or disturbing films.

 Speaking of which, the film has a habit of tricking audiences into forgetting the horrible ways that Hugo's first two "father figures" meet their maker: his clock-making father (Jude Law) dies in a fire / explosion in the museum he works at, and Uncle Claude (Ray Winstone) drowns in the river Seine and isn't found for months (which explains how Hugo was able to continue fixing the clocks without the Inspector thinking twice about it). It's not as though he lives a charmed life, by any means; Hugo has the apartment he lives in, his automaton, and whatever he can scrounge from the station without being seen. I'm not saying Hugo has it easy or anything, is all.

 I would like to point out that not only are all of the people I listed early in the review given more depth than simply filling out "types" that children can easily recognize, but Sacha Baron Cohen's Station Inspector has a character arc all of his own. Not only is he infatuated with Lisette, the florist, but held back because he's self-conscious about his brace (a result of World War I injuries), there's also a very good reason that he insists of sending children he catches to the orphanage. There are tiny touches of dialogue between the Inspector and other character that give you the impression he's a human being and not just a convenient plot device to keep Hugo from wandering about freely. I appreciate that, because it's not something you get all the time.

 Hugo feels like a hybrid of children's entertainment and the passions of Martin Scorsese, a union that works in ways that a director of lesser talent would be incapable of. In fact, I don't know that anyone else could have found the delicate balance needed to keep Hugo from being boring to kids or insipid to adults. It allows the director to also sneak in a lesson about film history to audiences that won't be expecting it, integrated in such a wonderful way that it feels like the only way Hugo could end. I wish I had seen it in 3-D, if only because there are a few instances late in the movie where Scorsese plays with the technique to emulate how audiences reacted to early cinema. However, if you can't see it in 3-D, just be ready for a bumpy opening followed by an engrossing experience, even if it is in two dimensions.


 * This may be the only "plot hole" in Hugo that stuck out to me. If Georges is so saddened by the loss of his films that he refuses to talk about "the past," why on earth would he keep a poster for one of his films in his shop?

Retro Fifteen Minute Cranpire Movie Review: Season of the Witch

...And they said it couldn't be done. This will also be the "year end recap" write up for Season of the Witch, as there are literally dozens of movies I'd watch before finishing this film.

 Waaaaaay back in the spring or early summer of 2011, before we committed our time to Drive Angry and The Mechanic, the Cranpire and I tried watching Season of the Witch. You know, the Nicolas Cage / Ron Perlman / Christopher Lee joint about a few AWOL Crusaders roped into helping the Church escort a witch to a church or.. something. That movie. The one you heard nothing about after groaning at the trailer (and Cage's recycled wig from The Sorcerer's Apprentice). The one you see in the lower corner of Redbox or your Netflix "new arrivals" and think to yourself "maybe when I'm drunk enough."

 If you're me, you thought "Ooh! Cranpire movie!" because Nicolas Cage and Ron Perlman and witches is exactly the combination a guy who tries to get me to watch Evil Bong is going to go for. Sure enough, he was game. I was game, because we tend to attack these films without mercy. The stupider the better, we figure; it is the same impetus that brought us to Drive Angry, after all.

 For the first ten minutes, we weren't really let down: there was a dumb prologue about killing witches and one that backfires because - of course - there's an ACTUAL witch. We then follow two Crusaders (Cage and Perlman) as they gleefully slaughter heathens, villagers, and anyone dumb enough to hover near their swords. They have "buddy" banter about who can kill more people and then drink to their murderous ways. In the span of five minutes the film jumps forward thereabouts ten years* when they somehow develop consciences because they see fellow soldiers kill women and children. Because they've never even accidentally done that during their wanton days of butchering.

 So they run. They tuck their swords away, hide in barns, and try to sneak off. They are exposed when some guy notices Cage's weapon and a creepy Cardinal with hideous sores (Lee) strongarms them into escorting a witch... somewhere.

 That's where we stopped, because the film suddenly lost all sense of momentum, lost any sense of being interesting, and we decided that anything else would be worth watching. Or just going home, which is what I did. Cranpire probably watched Netflix or went to bed. I promptly forgot about the prologue until he reminded me several months later. That doesn't speak well for Season of the Witch, which now has the distinction of being less memorable of the George Romero film that nobody knows exists, which really says something.

 If I saved this for my "year end recap," chances are I wouldn't remember that I saw any part of Season of the Witch. It's not bad enough to be entertaining and not good enough to overcome being slow and unengaged. It wouldn't shock me to discover that The Sorcerer's Apprentice was more watchable. The End.



* Sorry, I'm not going to go back and check the accuracy of that, but YEARS do pass by.

Top Ten Horror Movies

You got lucky, Blogorium readers: the Cap'n was thinking of taking the night off, what with a wedding to attend tomorrow, but a social network-related message from an old co-worker prompted your fearless leader to spend far more time than should be necessary to put together a list.

His message, in its entirety, read "top ten horror films..."

So you try that. Try to do it quickly. Maybe you can, maybe you can't. Do you go for the easy answers? The best known favorites? Do you throw in something that you love but you know others aren't as familiar with? Is that why he asked the Cap'n in the first place? Am I supposed to go unorthodox?

After mulling it over, I put in the first two without hesitation. Here's the entire list (which is technically twelve movies, so sue me):


The Haunting (1963)
The Evil Dead
Let the Right One In
Re-Animator / From Beyond
The Wicker Man (1978)
Night of the Living Dead
In the Mouth of Madness
Hellbound: Hellraiser II
Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter
From Beyond the Grave / Tales from the Crypt



Notice I left out the entirety of the Universal "Classic Horror" films, in part because as much as I love Frankenstein, The Wolf Man, The Mummy, The Invisible Man, The Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Dracula, I feel like everybody's seen them at one point or another in their life. The same cannot always be said of The Evil Dead and Night of the Living Dead, which are recognized more for having popular sequels than are seen.

I left off A Nightmare on Elm Street... well, I'm not sure why. Most of you (I'd imagine all of you reading this) have seen the first Nightmare over and over again, and maybe I just wanted to branch out a little bit. Even rabid fans of Re-Animator haven't necessarily seen From Beyond, which is as good if not better. I remain an ardent supporter of John Carpenter's In the Mouth of Madness, in part because it's construction replicates the experience of reading H.P. Lovecraft in a way most direct Lovecraft adaptations don't.

As sequels go, Hellbound and The Final Chapter are on par with the original film and in many ways both more successful. From Beyond the Grave and Tales from the Crypt are two of my favorite anthology films, a sub-genre in horror that doesn't get enough love from my perspective.

Oh, and The Haunting and The Wicker Man just creep me out. Put them on late at night, in the dark, right before bed. Good luck sleeping.

One thing I'd like to point out is until the very last second Terrovision was in the "top ten" list, and then I replaced it with Let the Right One In, which is a hard - but fair - substitution. Slashers films didn't get much of a showing there, and neither did "true story" movies like Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Horror comedies went largely unrepresented, but what can you do? I had ten spots to fill and no more.

As I challenged him, so too do I challenge you to provide me with your top ten horror films. Would you include Near Dark? Return of the Living Dead? Black Christmas? Ginger Snaps? An American Werewolf in London? The Fall of the House of Usher? Suspiria? The Hills have Eyes? The Horror of Dracula? Nosferatu? The Exorcist? Martin? The Thing? Phantasm? [REC]? Cat People?

You have ten slots to fill. You can push it to twelve, but they'd better be closely linked, and no more. Good luck.

Horror Fest Day One: The Wicker Man

I scarcely remember watching The Wicker Man last night. I know I did, although I may have been in and out of consciousness while I was watching it, but it did leave strange imprints on my groggy brain.

The songs are certainly stranger when you're a little loopy, in particular Britt Ekland's temptress dance. The sense of dread is still palpable on me, but how much of that was the X-Files and how much was the last ten minutes of The Wicker Man, I am unsure.

That being said, I do think that it's better to watch Robin Hardy's little ode to pagans in the wee hours than with sunlight pouring into the room, as I did the first time I saw it. And I can't fathom the remake working at all.

Up next... haven't decided. MST3K's keeping the VCR warm in the other room, but I'll choose a movie proper shortly. Expect my first reaction to Slither later tonight.