Horror All Night Long: the Joys of All-Night Drive-In Horror-thons

 

How one was first exposed to the joys and frights of Horror films has much to do with when that first exposure took place.  For those fortunate enough to be there at the beginning, their first taste of horror came in a theater, as the classic Universal Monsters first thrilled audiences.  If that initial experience happened in the late 1950s, then in all likelihood it came in the form of a local Horror Host, airing twenty-year-old cheesy movies to a late-night weekend audience, while dressed in a goofy outfit and doing his best to sound like Boris Karloff or Bela Lugosi [any resemblance to a certain Vampire Count of my acquaintance is purely a coincidence].  And to those of us who spent our formative years in the 1960s and ‘70s patronizing the local Drive-In Theater, there was a regular ritual in which we took part at least once a season, often once a month.  That’s when, apart from the routine Friday or Saturday night visits to our favorite ozoner, we would indulge in the All-Night Horror Movie Marathon, or Horror-thon.

Often used as a way to package films too played out for a regular run, even for easy-to-please Drive-In crowds, the Horror-thon was just another example of the need exhibitors had to wring every possible cent out of their venues, especially in the troubled decade of the ‘70s.  The decline of the Drive-In was well underway by the middle of the decade, exacerbated by the 1974 OPEC (Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries) oil embargo, and the resultant Energy Crisis, which had a profound effect on all industries dependent upon the American love affair with the Automobile, Drive-In theaters included. 

Another cause of the industry’s poor health, though still in nascent form, was the growing Home Video revolution.  While the battle still raged between VHS and Betamax to determine which format would become dominant, there was no longer any doubt that home video was the wave of the future, and that the ability for consumers to own copies of their favorite films, for them to enjoy in the privacy and comfort of their own homes, and at their convenience, would strike a severe blow to motion picture exhibitors at every level of the industry.  In order to fight back, theaters in general, and ozoners in particular, had to constantly strive to give the consumer more bang for their buck, and in so doing were faced with ever shrinking profit margins.  Keeping their establishments going all night long, while screening cheaply-acquired films that would bring in a guaranteed audience, was an economically safe bet.

However, the youthful Unimonster was blissfully ignorant of the socio-economic motivations behind these all-night fright-fests.  When I was a ten-year-old Horror fanatic, voraciously devouring everything I could in the way of monsters and scary movies, these dusk-to-dawn bacchanalias of terror were a godsend, an easy way for this young MonsterKid to feast upon the latest and greatest Low-Budget Horror available.

The first time I saw Night of the Living Dead was at just such a festival of fear and the same holds for such classics as Blood Feast, Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things, and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  Movies as diverse as The Navy vs. the Night Monsters, Shriek of the Mutilated, and both Dr. Phibes films were screened for my eager enjoyment at such events, as were a panoply of Hammer’s finest Horrors, the titans of Toho, and the sexy, sensational, salacious Horrors from France, Spain, and Italy.

One might be inclined to say that I was on the young side for viewing many of these films, and I would, of course, be forced to agree.  However, I was blessed with an older sister possessed of three great attributes: a vehicle with a spacious trunk, a susceptibility to a little sibling bribery and/or blackmail, and rather liberal attitudes on just what constituted appropriate viewing for her younger brothers.  Suffice it to say that, the MPAA ratings notwithstanding, even as a ten-year-old I managed to see whatever I wished.

Today, in the age of streaming media, round-the-clock movie channels, and video-on-demand, the notion of sitting in one’s car overnight, to watch movies on an outdoor screen, in the company of squadrons of mosquitoes seems rather quaint—if not completely ludicrous.  And that’s sad, really.  Because those of us who shared the joys of warm summer nights under the stars, watching blood-spattered images flicker across the screen, gained so much more than just the movies we watched. 

We gained the indelible memories of how we watched them—and fell in love with Horror films for the first time.

The 1980s—Horror’s Greatest Decade

 

In the more than one century of Horror cinema, there have been many watershed years, years that have shaped and defined the genre.  1922 saw the first truly great Horror film—Nosferatu, directed by F. W. Murnau.  1931 marked the birth of the American Horror film, as Universal unleashed its twin titans, Dracula and Frankenstein.  1951 which marked the beginning of the era of the Science Fiction Horrors with the release of The Day the Earth Stood Still and The Thing from Another World.  And 1968, wherein one movie, George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead, separated what had been considered Horror, from what would henceforth be Horror—with a line that was sharp and bright, and black and white.

But those were individual years, brief moments in time that stand out because a small, discrete number of films released in those years were transformative to the genre.  Though great Horror films may have been produced in the years preceding or following the years we have singled out, they lack the importance of those we have chosen.

But what if there were an entire decade that was, start to finish, that transformative, that influential, to the genre as a whole?  What if there was a decade that altered how filmmakers made Horror films; how distributors marketed Horror films; and how the horror fans viewed Horror films?  We’ve discussed how one or two films, in a single extraordinary year can change the way the Horror film is perceived by the public.  Can there be an extraordinary decade of extraordinary years?  There can be, and there was—the years from 1980 to 1989, the decade of the 1980s.

In the ‘80s, each year saw an increasingly rich cornucopia of Horror flooding Drive-Ins, Main Street theaters, Multiplexes, and eventually, our neighborhood video stores.  The decade began with movies such as Alligator, The Awakening, The Changeling, Fade to Black, The Fog, Friday the 13^th, Humanoids from the Deep, Maniac, Motel Hell, Prom Night, and The Shining.  It ended with La Chiesa (The Church), Leviathan, Offerings, Pet Sematary, Society, and

The Woman in Black.  In between lay a decade filled with some of the greatest Horror films ever made. 

The decade opened strong, with films such as An American Werewolf in London, Dead and Buried, Ghost Story, My Bloody Valentine, and Scanners in 1981.  1982 gave us Basket Case, Cat People, Creepshow, Pieces, Poltergeist, The Slumber Party Massacre, and John Carpenter’s The Thing, keeping the streak going.  1983 was no less impressive—Cujo and Christine, Psycho II and Sleepaway Camp.

In this spectacular decade, 1984 would have to be regarded as the standout year.  Any year that saw the release of C.H.U.D., Children of the Corn, Firestarter, Gremlins, Night of the Comet, and Silent Night, Deadly Night would be a memorable one by any standard.  However, in November of that year we would see the release of one of the most important movies of the decade, the film that launched the third great Slasher franchise, Wes Craven’s A Nightmare on Elm Street.  Freddy Krueger, personified by a stellar performance by Robert Englund, redefined the Slasher genre.  The first era of the Slasher had passed its zenith, and the second era, characterized less by the silent, psychopathic, “unstoppable” slashers, and more by the smart, wisecracking, undeniably supernatural beings such as Freddy, Chuckie, or the evil Djinn from the Wishmaster films, had begun.

1985 was only slightly less remarkable than the preceding year.  Several of the best Horror films of the decade were released in 1985, films such as the conclusion to George Romero’s Dead trilogy, Day of the Dead; Fright Night, directed by Tom Holland; Tobe Hooper’s space vampire film Lifeforce; Re-Animator, directed by Stuart Gordon, and based on a story by H. P. Lovecraft; The Return of the Living Dead, Dan O’Bannon’s self-referential take on the Romero Zombie-verse; Silver Bullet, based on a Stephen King graphic novel, and directed by Daniel Attias; and Larry Cohen’s The Stuff.

1986, while not the equal of the previous two years in terms of quality, certainly excelled in terms of quantity.  Aliens, April Fool’s Day, Chopping Mall, Demons, The Fly, Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, The Hitcher, House, Night of the Creeps, Rawhead Rex, and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2—among others.  None, with the possible exception of Night of the Creeps, are great movies (and yes, that’s my opinion … but then, everything I write is my opinion).  But they’re all good—and that’s a lot of good movies for one year.

1987 was the first year of the final third of the decade.  By this point, most Horror fans would be expecting a let-down, but the ‘80s offered no real let-downs.  Yes, if you only associate ‘80s Horror with Slasher movies, then you will be disappointed as the decade wears on.  But ‘80s Horror was so much more than that.  Of the films that I consider the year’s standouts, none are Slasher films.  Angel Heart, Evil Dead 2, Hellraiser, The Lost Boys, The Monster Squad, Near Dark, Night of the Demons, John Carpenter’s Prince of Darkness—they show the breadth of Horror in the 1980s.

Likewise, 1988 saw the release of some of my favorite ‘80s movies.  Beetlejuice, The Blob, The Church, Child’s Play, Killer Klowns from Outer Space, The Lady in White, Pumpkinhead, and Waxwork might not have been the decade’s biggest or best, but they were highly entertaining, and hugely successful.

The end of the 1980s marked the end of this period of unparalleled Horror film popularity.  Fittingly, 1989 lacked some of the excellence of the rest of the decade, though there are still gems to be had.  Three in particular served to ring out the ‘80s in style, and all three are uniquely ‘80s movies.  The ‘Burbs, directed by the great Joe Dante, and starring Tom Hanks, came towards the tail end of the actor’s forays into comedy, and this is one of his better examples, as well as being an excellent Horror Comedy.  Mary Lambert’s Pet Sematary might be the best adaptation yet of a Stephen King novel.  And Society, directed by Brian Yuzna, is the perfect summation to the “decade of greed and excess.”

Were the 1980s Horror’s greatest decade?  While any use of the appellation “greatest” is by its very nature subjective, I certainly believe that it applies in this instance.  Yes, the first half of the decade of the 1930s were certainly groundbreaking, marking the birth of the American concept of the Horror film.  One could make an argument for the latter half of the ‘60s, or the opening years of the 21^st Century.  Even today, occasionally, the Horror gods smile down on Hollywood and we are blessed with a phenomenal year or two.  But never before, and never since, have we had a full decade as spectacular, as impactful to the genre, as the decade of the 1980s.

The Devil Made Them Do It—the Three Movies that Defined the Satanic Scares of the ‘70s

 

Beginning in the late 1950s, the relaxation of censorship laws governing motion pictures, as well as an increasing sophistication on the part of audiences, a number of newer topics and themes began to be explored in American cinema, especially in the Horror genre.  One of the most popular and persistent involved Satanism, Witchcraft, and Demonology.  There were a scattering of such films between 1958 and 1968, but after the end of the Production Code in 1967, the subgenre virtually exploded, and the 1970s became, in many ways, the decade of the Devil in film. 

There were many such films produced after 1967.  A few became classics—The Sentinel (1977), Inferno (1980), The Wicker Man (1973), or Suspira (1977).  Some were okay—Race with the Devil (1975), El Diablo se Lleva los Muertos –aka— Lisa and the Devil (1974), or To the Devil a Daughter (1976).  Most were just bad.  Movies such as Ruby (1977), Abby (1974), or Simon, King of the Witches (1971), while undeniably inferior movies, still packed audiences into Drive-Ins and Grindhouses.

Three films, however, would stand out from the crowd, and be recognized as outstanding examples of filmmaking, and not just in the Horror genre.  These would be Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby, released in 1968; William Friedkin’s The Exorcist, in 1973; and Richard Donner’s The Omen, from 1976.  Together, they would come to symbolize the Satanic films of the ‘70s.

While Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby wasn’t the first Horror film with satanic themes (1913’s The Student of Prague, directed by Stellan Rye, probably holds that distinction), it was one of the first to take advantage of the newfound realism of the late ‘60s cinema.  Prior to Polanski’s groundbreaking film, themes of Satanism, Devil Worship, Witchcraft, and Cults were approached with caution by Hollywood, if at all.  The Production Code, put into place by the Hays Office in 1930 in an effort by the studios to avoid official censorship, was fully in control by 1934, severely restricting the content of motion pictures.  Though depictions of Satanism or Devil-Worship weren’t specifically forbidden under the code, the major studios were generally unwilling to approach, much less push, the boundaries set by the Hays Office.

One of the last Satanically-themed films produced before the Production Code took full effect was Edgar Ulmer’s 1934 classic The Black Cat, by Universal.  With overt themes of satanic worship and implied necrophilia and virgin sacrifice, it would have been impossible to release just a year later.  As it was, studio executives ordered the film to be cut in order to lessen the violence and horror, while allowing Ulmer to slip some of the movie’s most decadent bits past them.

In 1943, working within the confines of the Code, RKO Pictures produced The Seventh Victim, directed by Mark Robson and produced by Val Lewton, RKO’s hired gun brought in to compete with Universal’s Horror franchise.  The film concerned a young woman’s search for her missing sister, and her discovery that her sister was a member of a Satanic cult.  Though in my opinion it’s the best of the Horror films Lewton created for RKO, a very ham-fisted job of editing meant that the theatrical release was a confusing mess, and it did poorly at the box office.

The Production Code was officially in place until 1967, though in reality numerous factors had been whittling away at it for many years prior to that date.  First, the code only applied to films produced in the US.  While other nations’ cinemas had their own censorship issues to deal with, those tended to be more politically, rather than morally, oriented.

The second circumstance that led to the downfall of the Production Code was that, with increasing rapidity, Courts were conferring greater and greater protection to motion pictures under the aegis of the First Amendment.  The Supreme Court, in 1915, had ruled that motion pictures were a business, not art, and thus weren’t protected speech under the First Amendment.  However, that view had been shifting since the early 1950s, coinciding with the end of the Studio System.  As local censorship laws began to be struck down, there was increasing pressure on the Supreme Court to revisit their earlier decision, to bring order out of the patchwork quilt of censorship laws which covered the nation.

Third, and most importantly, the Code was entirely voluntary.  The major studios were the only ones bothering to abide by the code, and were the least interested in fighting censorship.  That fight was left to the independent Exploitation filmmakers, those who fought a constant battle with local censors for the right to exhibit their wares.  It was they who dragged the majors, kicking and screaming, into the modern era, which rendered the Production Code an archaic afterthought.

As the code began to crack and come apart, Satanically-themed films began to appear sporadically at Drive-Ins and Conventional theatres.  One of the best of this era was a British import, based on the M. R. James novel “Casting the Runes,” and directed by Jacques Tourneur.  Night of the Demon, released in the US as Curse of the Demon, was heavily edited prior to its theatrical release (approximately twelve minutes were cut); in its original form, it was a well-written and –directed, if at times slow paced, Horror film.  Literate, mature, and intelligent, it was the framework upon which the best of the Devil-Worship films were constructed.

Ten years after Night of the Demon hit theatres, low-budget Horror producer/director William Castle brought a project he was interested in developing to Robert Evans at Paramount.  Castle had gotten the advance galley proofs of a new novel by Ira Levin entitled Rosemary’s Baby from the book’s publisher, Random House.  Evans loved the story, and could see its potential as a feature film.  His only stipulation involved William Castle.  Well aware of the latter’s reputation for camp and gimmickry, Evans said that he could produce the film, but he wanted another director to helm the project.  They gave the job to an up-and-coming Polish filmmaker who was developing a solid reputation in Europe. 

Roman Polanski, then thirty-five, had just filmed a supposed Horror-Comedy, The Fearless Vampire Killers, released in the US by MGM (I say “supposed” because in my opinion it fails at both genres).  Polanski, best known for his 1965 film Repulsion, which had drawn critical praise, seemed a good fit for Rosemary’s Baby, at its core a psychological horror similar in tone to Repulsion.  And with the increased freedom following the demise of the Production Code, Polanski had the opportunity to make the first truly serious, mature Horror film.

Despite my personal animus towards Polanski as a person, which I have written of prior to this, I will give him his due as a talented director.  And Rosemary’s Baby might be his best film; certainly his best early work.  With a cast led by Mia Farrow and John Cassavetes, Polanski crafted a slow, suspenseful build-up to a shocking ending.  Critics loved it.  Moviegoers loved it.  And Hollywood took notice, and began developing similar properties in order to cash in. 

In the wake of the blockbuster success of Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby, every studio, from the Hollywood Majors to low-budget exploiteers, wanted their own Satanic, demonic, or cult-themed film.  That’s the nature of the business; one innovates, everyone else imitates.  Within a year or two, Horror films involving witches, covens, and Devil-Worshippers were a standard trope in low-budget Horror films.  Matthew Hopkins, Witchfinder General, directed by Michael Reeves and starring Vincent Price, actually beat the Polanski film into theaters, at least in Great Britain.  Though not strictly speaking a Horror film (though it was marketed as such, especially in the US where it was retitled The Conqueror Worm, after an Edgar Allan Poe poem), it nonetheless demonstrates that such topics were beginning to permeate the zeitgeist.

1971 saw an explosion of such movies, and titles such as The Brotherhood of Satan, The Mephisto Waltz, Tombs of the Blind Dead, and The Devil’s Nightmare were popular low-budget entries into the genre.  Similar films would be released in 1972, including Daughters of Satan and Horror Rises from the Tomb.  But it would be 1973 before the majors came back to the subject of demonic movies, and when they did, it would be with a vengeance. 

In 1971, author William Peter Blatty, inspired by a 1949 case of reported demonic possession, published a novel telling the story of a young girl, tormented by such a occurrence, and two Catholic priests who fight to save her soul from a demon.  The Exorcist was a runaway best-seller in print form, and it was only a matter of time before it was adapted for the screen.  Warner Bros. purchased the film rights to the book, and chose William Friedkin, coming off directing The French Connection, winner of five Oscars including Best Picture and Best Director, to helm it. 

With a script by Blatty, the author of the source novel; a cast comprised of veteran actors such as Max Von Sydow and Lee J. Cobb, lesser-known performers like Ellen Burstyn and Mercedes McCambridge, and a host of unknowns, such as Linda Blair and Jason Miller; and armed with a budget of $12 million, Friedkin crafted the definitive movie about demonic possession, one that would earn nearly $450 million at the Box Office, as well as ten Academy Award nominations, including Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Adapted Screenplay.  It won two, including Best Adapted Screenplay for Blatty’s script.  It is still regarded by many to be the most frightening Horror film ever.  And every studio and independent producer wanted to duplicate it.

Seemingly overnight theaters and Drive-Ins were swamped with demons and devils, witches and warlocks.  Time magazine might have declared God dead, but Satan was alive and well and living in Hollywood.  As is often the case with efforts to capitalize on a newly burgeoning trend in Hollywood, most of these low-budget Exploitation film takes on the subject weren’t very good.  However Italian and Spanish filmmakers, with deep roots in Catholic theological tradition, generally fared better with these themes, perhaps as an expression of rebellion against the cultural domination on the part of the Church in those countries.  In particular, a Spanish director named Jesús Franco showed a marked antipathy towards the Church, so much so that the Vatican declared him, along with fellow Spaniard Luis Buñuel, the most dangerous filmmakers in the world.

Sometime in 1973, Bob Munger, a friend of producer Harvey Bernhard, suggested to the latter that a movie about the Antichrist, the son of Satan, would be good box office.  Bernhard agreed, and immediately hired David Seltzer to turn the idea into a screenplay.  Seltzer, who had gotten his start in the business with an uncredited rewrite of Roald Dahl’s script for Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, took a year to finish the assignment, but when it was completed, everyone connected with the project felt that The Omen would be a winner.  Richard Donner, an experienced film and television director, was selected to helm the project for Warner Bros.

Starring Gregory Peck, Lee Remick, and David Warner, the story concerns an American diplomat and his wife, whose adopted son turns out to be the Antichrist foretold in the Book of Revelations.  Just as Rosemary’s Baby dealt with Satan from what might be described as a secular viewpoint, and The Exorcist was a study in Catholic theological dogma, The Omen was grounded in the Protestant Fundamentalist views on Armageddon and the Apocalypse.  This becomes more noticeable when one considers that most of the Catholic clergy are depicted as being in league with the Devil, certainly a Protestant prejudice.  Though the film failed to garner the critical praise that had been heaped upon the previous two linchpins of the subgenre, it was a box office hit, earning $61 million on a budget of $2.8 million.

As the Slasher films began to dominate the Horror genre in the late 1970s, the Satanic films waned in popularity, though never completely disappearing.  In the decades since, they have remained a staple of the Horror fan’s diet, holding their own against the vampires, ghosts, aliens, and zombies that populate modern Horror films.  I don’t see that changing anytime soon—after all, the battle between Good and Evil is as old as Mankind itself.

DVD Review: THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT Unrated Collector’s Edition

Title:  THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT Unrated Collector’s Edition

Year of Release—Film:  1972

Year of Release—DVD:  2008

DVD Label:  M-G-M / 20^th Century Fox Home Entertainment

Recently, critics have been guilty of overusing the term “Grindhouse”, referencing any film about which they wish to convey a sense of excessive gore or violence.  In the 1960’s and ‘70’s, however, there were films that earned that appellation honestly; indeed films that made the Grindhouse theaters a necessity.  Perhaps the most famous such film was Wes Craven’s 1972 thriller THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT.  Filmed on the cheap by Craven and friend Sean Cunningham, their stated goal was to shock the audience with over-the-top gore and violence, as realistically as possible.  They accomplished that goal.

Though not as relentlessly abusive to the viewer as Meir Zarchi’s similar-themed I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE (1978), it’s far from a pleasant film to watch.  The plot is simple:  A group of criminals, led by Krug Stillo, (David Hess) takes two young girls captive and heads out into the woods.  Their car breaks down, and they decide it’s a good spot to finish off their hostages and dump the bodies.  After the girls are tortured, raped and murdered, the killers seek shelter at the home of the Collingwoods, the only house in the area.  What the Stillo gang doesn’t know, to their detriment, is that it’s the home of Mari, one of the young girls they just viciously slaughtered.  When the parents of the murdered girl discover what has happened, and who was responsible, they go on a rampage of violence, one that makes the murder of the two girls pale in comparison.

Given the meager budget Craven was working with, and the absolute lack of name talent associated with the film, the accomplishment is notable.  The story is direct, engaging, and original… at least, it was when Ingmar Bergman filmed THE VIRGIN SPRING in 1959.  Craven lifted the bones of the plot from the far more literate and artistic Swedish film, gave them an update, and tossed in a full measure of ultra-realistic violence and a few quarts of fake blood.  The result was a qualified success.  It certainly met Craven’s goal of a film that would shock audiences, though that task was demonstrably easier in 1972.  Where Craven failed, though perhaps that’s too strong a word, is in creating a film that works as entertainment.  The film is too graphic, too gritty, and has far too much of a Cinema Verite feel to be truly entertaining.  But it is skillfully constructed; even at this early date, Craven’s potential is obvious.  The only note that rings false is the comedy relief Sheriff and Deputy.  Comic relief has no place in a film of this type; either remain true to the darkness of the film’s subject, or lighten it up overall.

It is pleasing to this reviewer that the distributors used a very nice looking print for this release.  Those who are familiar with this film primarily from aging VHS tapes will appreciate the improved quality.  Still, when you begin with what is essentially a no-budget student film, no amount of restoration will transform it into a thing of beauty.  The biggest improvement over the VHS release, at least, the copy in the Unimonster’s collection, is the sound.  Muddy and distorted on VHS, it’s actually understandable on this DVD.

Included on this release are several special features worth noting.  Extra footage has been included in the film itself, which is the reason for the “Unrated” status.  Nothing that really alters the film, just serves to lengthen and intensify the violence… as though it needed that.  Two features that are needed, and are very interesting, are a pair of documentaries featuring director Wes Craven.  Craven, who in the decades following the release of LAST HOUSE… has become the most influential horror director extant, discusses both the making of the original and the 2009 remake, directed by Dennis Iliadis.  Also included is an unfinished short film by Craven, TALES THAT WILL TEAR YOUR HEART OUT.

While this will never be the first film I’ll take off the shelf for a relaxing evening’s viewing, it is an important film that every Horror fan should be familiar with, and every Craven fan should own.  I suggest a definite rental if you’re the former; a buy if the latter.

First Impressions, and Second Looks by The Unimonster

As is probably the case with most people these days, when I listen to music it’s usually in the form of mp3s, on my cell phone. For someone whose second album purchase (ten points if you get the significance of that) was the soundtrack of Superman, the Movie on an 8-track tape, things have come a long way. One thing that hasn't changed or at least, I didn't think it had, is my taste in music. I grew up in a house filled with music lovers, though each followed the beat of a different drummer. My eldest sister Wanda Susan loved Motown, our sister Dee Karen was deep into what I still think of as ‘hippie music’, the Beatles, the Doors, Janis Joplin. Our brother David was Southern Rock—Lynyrd Skynyrd, Molly Hatchet, Blackfoot. The youngest boy, Mark, was a heavy metal headbanger who loved Def Leppard. Our mother was pure country. And from all of these influences, and others, my rather broad and eclectic musical predilections were formed.

I long ago thought that my musical preferences were set, carved in stone, beyond the point of change. From pure honky-tonk country, to 1950s Doo-Wop, to the symphonic works of Tchaikovsky, music remains one of the great joys of my life, and until recently I was content. However, while talking with a friend, the topic moved to favorite music, and she mentioned a favorite song of hers, one that she loved as a child, one that was on an old cassette of her mother’s. That song was Eric Carmen’s Make Me Lose Control, which topped out at #3 in 1988. My first thought was that I was twenty-four when that song came out, and she was not yet born. My second thought was that I hated Eric Carmen when he was ‘popular’, and then I realized, that very song is on my phone. Not only is it on my phone, but I paid $1.29 to put it there. When in the hell did I start liking Eric Carmen?

But as I pondered that, a more disturbing thought arose. That wasn't the only Carmen song on there, including some of his work when he was lead singer with the Raspberries. I soon realized that there were more songs from artists who I once disliked and who I now enjoy.

Okay, before you regular readers start believing that the Unimonster is now doing a music blog; let me reassure you that this article is about horror movies. It occurred to me, as I was considering the rather surprising turn in my musical affections, that there are movies which I disliked upon first viewing them, and about which my opinions have mellowed, somewhat.

One of these, and the one that might be the most surprising for those readers familiar with my love of the classics, is the 1992 version of Dracula, Francis Ford Coppola’s take on Bram Stoker’s classic novel. Though far more faithful to Stoker’s vision than most of the films that preceded it, upon my first viewing of it twenty-two years ago I found it slow-paced, talky, and for the most part uninteresting. My thoughts on it, from the personal notes from my database of Horror films, were, “Overly pretentious version of the Classic vampire tale nearly works, but is finally dragged down by the weight of its own pomposity, as well as Keanu Reeves’ absolutely wretched performance as Jonathan Harker.” Recently however, I bought the Collector’s Edition DVD, released by Sony Home Entertainment in October, 2007. While Reeves’ performance is still just as wretched (seriously, was every other possible choice for Harker tied up at the time?), and the film still comes off as pretentious, I found it far more enjoyable that I did then. The 49-year-old Unimonster was more appreciative of the theme of the film, which is ‘Love, lost yet still eternal’, than the 28-year-old Unimonster had been. I also found the manner in which the historical Vlad Tepes, also known as Vlad Dracula, was reconciled with Stoker’s fictional Count very satisfying. It will never be my favorite version of the story, but it’s definitely one I will watch again.

Another that has grown on me with repeated viewings is The Rocky Horror Picture Show. This picture has gone from being one that left me cold, to being one of my favorites. My first thoughts on this movie, again from my database: “Though it may rule the midnight movie show, on TV it's just a silly, dated musical. Tim Curry's performance is inspired, but it can't lift this out of mediocrity alone. Without the insanity that is the Audience Participation, it just falls flat.” Boy has my opinion changed! So much so that I’m embarrassed at how wrong I was about this movie. While I've yet to attend a midnight showing of the film, experiencing it the way it was meant to be experienced, I can say that the experience of sitting in your living room, singing along with all the songs as the dog looks at you with a strange mix of concern and, yes, pity, must be similar.

However, the movie that surprised me with how my opinions have changed over the years is one that, if I had to be honest about at this point in time, is in my personal top ten of Horror films, of all-time. That movie is Sam Raimi’s classic The Evil Dead. Now when I watch it, I see one of the most imaginative, innovative horror films of the last half of the 20th Century, a movie that defied conventions, low-budget, and good taste to become one of the most popular films of the Drive-In era. Compare that to my database: “Made on a nothing budget, Sam Raimi’s cult blockbuster has never been a favorite of mine. Still, its popularity can’t be denied … it’s become one of the biggest Horror franchises ever.” Well, I was right … and wrong. Not about the historical significance of Raimi’s movie; but about it not being a favorite of mine. That part is no longer true.

Will my taste continue to evolve over time? What will the 60-year-old Unimonster’s opinion be of the movies that his 50-year-old self detested? Some, I’m sure, will have aged well in my eyes, perhaps prompting a similar look back in the 2024 version of the Unimonster’s Crypt, delivered via thought waves directly into the brains of my readers. Does that mean I’ll be sitting through my eighth or ninth viewing of Snakes on a Plane? I wouldn't bet on that.

Godzilla / The Quiet Ones / The Amazing Spider-Man 2 Drive-In Triple-Feature

Title(s):  Godzilla / The Quiet Ones / The Amazing Spider-Man 2

Date of Theatrical Release(s):  May 16, 2014 / April 25, 2014 / May 2, 2014

MPAA Rating:  PG-13 (all)

On the 16^th of May, your friendly ol’ Unimonster loaded the family truckster with food, drink, blankets, the Uni-Nephew, and the Rug-Monkey, and headed out to the local Drive-In.  Our primary goal for the night was to have a great time watching the new Godzilla film, but good timing (plus a little bit of relocating from one screen to the next during intermission) allowed us to score a triple-feature of genre films.  It was also my first chance to check out the Tibbs since they upgraded to Digital over the off-season.

Since the boys and I watched these movies as a team, we’ll review them as a team.  Each review will include their thoughts on the film in question.  So let’s go to the Drive-in!

Godzilla

We were all looking forward to Gareth Edwards’ Godzilla, the big budget reinvention of the King of all Monsters.  Following a spring filled with hype about this movie, we were all a little concerned that it might fail to deliver as much as was promised … I more so than the boys.  I still have vivid recollections of the last time the Big G appeared on American shores, in the 1998 Roland Emmerich-directed GINO (Godzilla … In Name Only) stinkfest.  It too had been massively hyped, only to disappoint legions of loyal Kaijû fans, including the Unimonster.  I hoped history wouldn’t repeat itself, but Hollywood has a poor track record in this area.

After viewing, all I can say is … this movie was fantastic!  For once, the hype wasn’t overdone; if anything, the movie was better than I expected.  This is Godzilla; Americanized, sure … but still recognizable as the Big G.  If the trailers mislead on any point, it’s the impression that Bryan Cranston is the star of the film.  His performance as Joe Brody, the first to give warning of Godzilla’s presence is good, and the character is important to the plot, but his screen time is limited.  Never having seen an episode of Breaking Bad, my impressions of Cranston all revolve around his Emmy-nominated role of Hal, Malcolm’s long-suffering father on the hit series Malcolm in the Middle.  It’s different seeing him in a dramatic role; good, but different.  I kept expecting Hal to pop-up.

The lead is nominally Aaron Taylor-Johnson, familiar to genre fans as Dave Lizewski / Kick-Ass, from Kick-Ass and Kick-Ass 2 (both highly recommended, btw), but make no mistake, the star of this film is 250 feet tall and scaly.  This is Godzilla’s film, and though I would’ve like to see more of him on-screen, his impact is unquestionable.

The one problem I do have with the film is that far too much of it looks as though it was lit with a 40-watt light bulb.  I understand using shadows to conceal something in order to build suspense, but in order for there to be shadows there must also be light.  When you’re seeing one- or two-minute sequences that are essentially just a black screen, that’s not building suspense; that’s taking the audience out of the action.

Still, that’s my one complaint, and it’s not a major one.  Overall, it’s a tremendous movie, and easily vaults to the top of my list for Movie of the Year.

The Uni-Nephew’s Review:  “Godzilla was a great movie, with lots of action and a great story!”
The Rug-Monkey’s Review:  “Great!”

The Quiet Ones

Ever since the resurrection of Hammer Films, and their first unqualified success with The Woman in Black, I’ve been waiting for the follow-up.  Something, anything, to show that the studio’s new incarnation was for real.  The Quiet Ones, the studio’s first release since The Woman in Black, is not that film.

Starring Jared Harris, Sam Claflin, and Olivia Cooke, The Quiet Ones is the type of Supernatural / Psychological horror that Hammer used to do very well, with films such as 1963’s Paranoiac or 1964’s Nightmare.  My issues with this film are that, for a “Horror” film, there’s a distinct lack of … well, Horror.  To describe the film as slow-moving would be an understatement; the movie plods along with the deliberateness of a stagnant creek.  John Pogue directed this tortoise of a film, working from a script he co-wrote with Craig Rosenberg and Oren Moverman.  I don’t know if ‘glacial’ was the pace he was shooting for … if so, then he hit the mark.

 

The characters are on the whole unlikeable; Claflin’s Brian McNeil is the closest you get to a hero for the piece, though not a very effective one.  Professor Joseph Coupland (Harris), the head of the group, is the perfect example of the ‘creepy uncle’, the kind which parents don’t let their kids visit unsupervised.  Only Cooke, as Jane Harper, the subject of the Professor’s experiments, is entertaining.  And I get the impression that that’s an accidental occurrence.

Despite all this, The Quiet Ones isn't a horrible movie … just a profoundly disappointing one.

The Uni-Nephew’s Review:  “The Quiet Ones was a good movie but could’ve been a bit faster-paced, with more horror aspects to it (considering it’s a horror movie).”
The Rug-Monkey’s Review:  “The Quiet Ones was okay, but wasn’t what I expected.”

The Amazing Spider-Man 2

Okay, confession time … I’ve never been a fan of Marvel’s Superheroes (DC all the WAY!), and Spider-Man was always my least favorite of the bunch.  Still, the recent Marvel blockbusters have made me a (partial) convert—with one exception:  Spidey.  To this old comic-book lovin’ Unimonster, he still comes across as comical, almost a parody of superheroes.  Truthfully, I fell asleep during the last big-screen adaptation of Stan Lee’s most famous creation, and expected to do the same with this one.  No one was more surprised than I that, not only did I make it through the entire film (though some credit has to go to having two rambunctious teenagers in a tightly enclosed space … think ‘pair of chimps in a Gemini space capsule’), I actually enjoyed the movie.

Granted, I know next to nothing of the character’s back story, or the various comic-book iterations of it that exist.  Andrew Garfield did a very good job playing Spider-Man, but more importantly, he did a great job playing Peter Parker, the harder of the two roles.  To be the superhero, the man or woman in the mask, cape, or tights, is easy.  It’s all action.  All one has to do is be heroic.  It’s as their secret selves that you see the cost of being the hero, as with Christian Bale’s Bruce Wayne.

Emma Stone (Garfield’s real-life girlfriend) plays Gwen Stacy, the love-interest of Parker / Spider-Man, as she is aware of his secret.  This threw me at first, as the little that I do recall of the comic book Spider-Man was that his girlfriend was named Mary Jane, but I was enlightened as to the discrepancy by the boys.  Stone gives a very good performance, and there’s no denying that she’s one of the most beautiful actresses in Hollywood.

The cast overall does an excellent job, aided by a superb script from Alex Kurtzman, Roberto Orci, and Jeff Pinkner.  Kurtzman and Orci have been one of the most successful screenwriting duos of the last decade, penning the Transformers, Spider-Man, and Star Trek franchises to box-office gold.  Marc Webb does well as director; though to be honest, with this level of talent on board, it would be hard not to.

While Spider-Man will never be a favorite Superhero of mine, not even my favorite Marvel hero, this movie surprised me in just how much I enjoyed it.

The Uni-Nephew’s Review:  “The Amazing Spider-Man 2 was a very good movie.  It has many twists to it, and a very good story.”
The Rug-Monkey’s Review:  “The Amazing Spider-Man 2 was really amazing!”

One final word on the Tibbs Drive-In’s digital upgrade is in order.  The picture quality was very good, not as vast an improvement as you would see in a similar upgrade in a conventional theater, but that’s a function of the limited amount of light that can be projected onto the screen when that screen is a hundred or more yards away from the projector, as opposed to a hundred or so feet.  Still, I mourn the loss of film, and the idiosyncrasies associated with it.  Progress may be more efficient, but it’s nostalgia that stirs the heart.

Unimonster's Drive-In Classics - Roger Corman’s Cult Classics—Nurses Collection Box Set: Candy Stripe Nurses; Night Call Nurses; Private Duty Nurses; The Young Nurses

Title:  Roger Corman’s Cult Classics—Nurses Collection Box Set: Candy Stripe Nurses; Night Call Nurses; Private Duty Nurses; The Young Nurses

Year of Release—Film:  1974; 1972; 1971; 1973

Year of Release—DVD:  2012

DVD Label:  Shout! Factory

Reviewer:  Unimonster

Anyone who is a fan of the CBS comedy series How I Met Your Mother is familiar with the theory expounded by Barney Stinson, played by Neil Patrick Harris, that in every era there is a profession towards which hot young women naturally gravitate.  In the early 1970s, there were two such professions—stewardesses (not flight attendants, that would come later), and nurses.  And true to form, both professions were frequently the subject of Exploitation films.

Roger Corman, the master of the low-budget movie, was never one to miss a trend, and often initiated them.  Such was the case when his newly formed New World Pictures chose as its first release in 1970 The Student Nurses, directed by Stephanie Rothman.  The movie did well enough to lead Corman to produce at least four more such films, and in 2012 these four were released in another of Shout! Factory’s excellent series of Roger Corman’s Cult Classics DVD sets.

Corman’s formula for these films was a simple one—take three or four beautiful young nurses, give each a plotline to follow, which would typically be something trendy or politically topical.  One girl would be the sweetheart, either innocent or slutty, looking for Mr. Right, or just Mr. Right Now.  One would be highly intelligent, usually more so than the doctors, and anxious to prove it; and the third girl would be the radical, representing the liberal feminist and racial themes that were close to both Cormans’—Roger and his wife Julie, who was producer on these movies—hearts.  Stir in generous helpings of sex, nudity, and action, and these movies were guaranteed box-office gold.

Private Duty Nurses (1971)

The earliest film in the set (one wishes that The Student Nurses had been included); this was the weakest of the four films, in my opinion.  It lacks many of the elements that one would expect to find in this kind of movie, namely copious amounts of female nudity, some measure of humor, and any semblance of a coherent plot—much less three of them.

Written and directed by George Armitage, what story there is in the movie is focused on the male counterparts to our three leading ladies—Spring (Kathy Cannon), who gets involved with a Vietnam vet with a death wish; Lynn (Pegi Boucher), who falls for a married ambulance attendant whom she meets when she finds a dead body on the beach; and Lola (Joyce Williams), who is dating a black doctor who’s the victim of discriminatory practices at the hospital where the girls work.

In the hands of a more competent director, there’s enough meat on these bones to flesh out a decent movie.  However, the women in the cast are given little to do except stand in the background, look pretty, listen to the men speak their lines, and (not nearly enough to save this movie) take their clothes off.  Not only does the lack of focus on the titular leads hurt this movie, but it’s by far the most political of the films, with the viewer constantly pummeled by the big three of the early 1970s causes—Vietnam, Racial Unrest, and the Environment.  That couldn't have been very entertaining in 1971; it definitely isn't now.

Night Call Nurses (1972)

Following on the heels of Private Duty Nurses, Jonathan Kaplan’s Night Call Nurses corrected some of the flaws present in the earlier film.  Kaplan, who was recommended to the Cormans by Martin Scorsese, was given a great degree of freedom by Corman.  He was allowed to rewrite the script, cast the movie, and edit the finished product—a massive amount of responsibility for a 25-year-old making his directorial debut.  The only part that was cast when Kaplan came on board was that of Janis, to be played by Alana Collins, the future former Mrs. George Hamilton and Rod Stewart—not at the same time.

Barbara (Patti T. Byrne), Sandra (Mittie Lawrence), and Janis are nurses in a psychiatric ward at an inner-city hospital.  Innocent young Barbara, under pressure from her boyfriend to conquer her sexual hang-ups and consummate their relationship, is seeing a sex therapist (Clint Kimbrough, who a year later would direct The Young Nurses) who has an unprofessional interest in the girl.  She soon becomes aware that she is being stalked—by a mysterious figure in a nurse’s uniform.

Janis, meanwhile, has become infatuated with a truck driver who has been in the hospital treating his addiction to amphetamine.  He claims that he only takes it in order to do his job, and that without it he can’t meet his schedules.  She takes him under her care—in more ways than one.

While this has been taking place, Sandra has been approached by a black militant seeking to get a message through to the leader of his movement, currently in the hospital’s jail ward after an alleged suicide attempt in prison.  At first resistant, Sandra soon becomes embroiled in a plan to free the prisoner.

Narrowly losing out to Candy Stripe Nurses as the best of Corman’s ‘Nurse’ films, despite having a weaker cast and script, the movie’s quality, what there is of it, can be ascribed to Kaplan’s ability as director.  The only one of the four featured in this set to have success as a mainstream filmmaker, Kaplan directed Jodie Foster in her Best Actress Oscar-winning role as Sarah Tobias in 1988’s The Accused.

The Young Nurses (1973)

When the first camera shot post-opening credits is a lovely young blonde sunning herself topless on a sailboat, you know that whatever else The Young Nurses is going to be, a thought-provoking, sensitive, intellectual study of the day-to-day lives of medical professionals it isn’t.  Directed by Clint Kimbrough, a long-time member of Corman’s stock company, The Young Nurses is pure exploitation; what plot exists is there solely by chance, and is for the most part too convoluted to engender any interest on the part of the viewer.

Three young nurses (despite there being four women on the poster, there were only three female leads … Corman’s ‘Nurse’ posters always featured an extra nurse) work at the only hospital to seemingly have an attached marina.  Kitty (Jean Manson), the beautiful blonde mentioned above, rescues then falls in love with a young man who managed to fall overboard from his boat while ogling her sunbathing.  Joanne (Ashley Porter), a brilliant nurse, believes she knows more than half the doctors on staff—and doesn’t hesitate to act like it.  And Michelle (Angela Gibbs) is hot on the trail of pushers who are flooding the streets with a deadly new drug.  That’s it … that’s the script.  The rest is filler—nurses getting naked on cue, the obligatory bumbling doctors, actors who either overplay or underplay every scene, and just enough nudity, sex and action to make it all fun.

The only bright points in the film are the performance of Allan Arbus as Dr. Krebs, and the final on-screen appearance of Mantan Moreland (billed as Man Tan Moreland) in a cameo role.  Arbus, best remembered as Dr. Sidney Freedman, the wise-cracking psychiatrist from the TV series M*A*S*H, is clearly the only member of the cast present for his acting ability.  Moreland, whose career began in the era of segregated films in the 1930s, had his most memorable role as Birmingham Brown in the series of Charlie Chan movies produced by Monogram Pictures in the mid-1940s.

All that being said, The Young Nurses does what it’s supposed to do.  It just doesn’t go overboard doing it … I know, I apologize.

Candy Stripe Nurses (1974)

The end of Corman’s ‘Nurse’ cycle was also the best of the series, Alan Holleb’s Candy Stripe Nurses.  Providing just the right balance of sex, plot, action and humor, and starring the queen of sexploitation films in the early ‘70s, Candice Rialson, Candy Stripe Nurses manages to be entertaining on a number of levels.

The film follows the exploits of three ‘candy-stripers’, young women who volunteer as nurses at a big city hospital.  Each girl has her own motives for volunteering:  Sandy (Rialson) simply wants to be close to her doctor boyfriend (as well as several of her patients); Dianne (Robin Mattson) sees it as the first step on her way to becoming a doctor; and Marisa (Maria Rojo), was ordered to volunteer as a consequence of attacking a teacher at her school.  The trio each finds a challenge to their talents, medical and otherwise.  Sandy works her way into the hospital’s sex clinic as a receptionist, a position which she uses to meet up with a famous rock and roll star who’s suffering, in the pre-Viagra 1970s, from an embarrassing lack of, um … enthusiasm, for his groupies.

Dianne falls in love with a basketball player who was admitted with what she believes were the symptoms of a drug overdose, but no one believes her, especially when the blood test comes back negative.  And Marisa takes up the cause of a young man in the prison ward, charged with robbing a gas station.  Only he swears to her that he is innocent.

The three plots are well-managed, and Holleb keeps things from becoming too tangled and confusing.  It’s not high art, but then what Corman film is?  It does the job, providing an hour and twenty minutes of mindless entertainment while munching popcorn.  That’s what it was intended to do in 1974, and it still does it today.