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Few Movies Love Horror More than ‘Popcorn’

Few Movies Love Horror More than ‘Popcorn’

I once attended a retrospective screening of the original “Friday the 13th” where the audience was sprayed with “blood.”

The theater also arranged for a man in a hockey mask to stalk the aisles every 30 minutes. It was a midnight showing at the legendary Mayan Theater in Denver, and no one seemed to mind that they were being spritzed with water containing red food coloring.

Nor that “Jason” didn’t even appear in the movie we were watching. It was an awesome way to watch an awful movie.

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The shenanigans by the managers of the Mayan clearly wanted to evoke the late, great William Castle, who used to jerry-rig selected movie theaters with gimmicks to lure audiences.

Castle famously made movies where the audience was encouraged to scream their heads off (“The Tingler”), dread bed sheets that stood in for ghosts (“13 Ghosts”) and sign pre-screening wavers in case of death during the movie (he did this a lot for many of his titles). The movies themselves were crude but made with affection and unintentionally hilarious C-rate drive-in thrillers.

I miss guys like Castle, though there are still filmmakers who exude that kind of showmanship (John Waters and Lloyd Kaufman are prime examples).

“Popcorn,” a 1991 horror film with an adoring cult following, knows all too well how cool this kind of gonzo night at the movies is. It shares an affection for Castle’s films and is strikingly similar to Joe Dante’s 1993 masterpiece, “Matinee” (that is, if “Matinee” weren’t a coming-of-age high school comedy but a shot-in-Jamaica teen slasher film).

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Nineties Scream Queen and genre veteran Jill Schoelen stars as Maggie, a college film student who is plagued by bizarre nightmares. Her film club stages an elaborate fundraiser: they renovate a movie theater, dress it up with jerry-rigged props and interactive gags and oversee (in costume and in character) a B-movie triple feature.

The three movies (fictional works we’re offered glimpses of, titled “Mosquito!,” “Attack of the Amazing Electrified Man” and “The Stench”) play on a night when the monster from Maggie’s dreams appears to be making a reappearance in the theater.

While this is stronger as an ode to ’50s horror than a consistent slasher/whodunit, the villain has a cool mask and a Gaston Leroux-like pathos. Genre pro Dee Wallace Stone, Tony Roberts and especially Ray Walston are very good in small roles, but the movie belongs to the plucky Schoelen and a memorable character turn by Tom Villard.

The film had a rocky beginning: Weeks into the filming of “Popcorn,” Alan Ormsby was replaced as director by “Porky’s” actor Mark Herrier, who does well to inject style when necessary and keeps the pace moving.

Schoelen was a replacement for Amy O’Neill (best known as the eldest daughter in “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids”) and extensive reshoots took place. Evidence of a troubled production are in the wobbly tone, which is cheerful and jokey one minute, cold and sadistic the next.

A scene involving Stone, a supernatural marquee and a monster loose in a darkened movie theater, is stylish but nonsensical.

There’s also the question of how much money the film club was allotted for the central event. Overseeing the triple feature, utilizing large-scale physical effects and extensively dressing up a movie theater appears to be more expensive than any imaginable college funds could allow. Yet, “Popcorn” appears as concerned with logic as “Mosquito!,” which is somehow fitting.

How’s this for showmanship? We get three B-movies within this B-movie. It manages to always be entertaining and exude a warmth for old-time movie magic, even when it gets dark and violent. The genuinely freaky experimental films we witness and the initial unveiling of the villain (both are by far the scariest things in “Popcorn”) are old-school thrills.

This is a junk food gourmet, not a feast of cinema history, but it can be fun to see cheesy late 20th century film tropes gel with effective recreations of ’50s monster movies, ’60s art cinema, ’70s and ’80s horror tropes and the much older, classic works. This odd synergy of cinema history resonates in a crass but clever line early on, when a film student compares Bergman to “Police Academy 5.”

Like the post-modernist horror films that emerged later in the decade, the characters of “Popcorn” seem vaguely aware that they’re in a horror film. Maggie scoffs at her boyfriend’s sexual advances early on, declaring, “This is the age of safe sex.”

She and the movie follow suit. There is no sex or nudity in “Popcorn.”

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Schoelen revealed in a recent Fangoria interview that Bob Clark ghost-produced the film. Clark is the Canadian wunderkind who directed the crucial 1972 “Black Christmas,” the classic “A Christmas Story” (1983) and the surprise smash “Porky’s” (1981).

Clark’s influence seems to be present, as moments suggest a gentler fusion of his teen sex comedy and highly influential horror movie. Alas, there is not a trace of Ralphie or his Red Rider BB Gun.

“Popcorn” is certainly corny, but it’s always fun and reminds genre fans how much fun movies like this (or “Mosquito!”) are, especially if you see them in a movie theater.

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‘In the Mouth of Madness’ Is John Carpenter’s ‘Misery’

‘In the Mouth of Madness’ Is John Carpenter’s ‘Misery’

John Carpenter’s “In the Mouth of Madness” (1995) was immediately dismissed in theaters, as its brief theatrical run was met with empty theaters and bad reviews.

Naturally, a new perspective was in order, as horror fans who eventually saw it weren’t just delighted by Carpenter’s especially playful, funny and jolting commentary on fandom and pop literary figures.  They recognized it as a career high point for “The Master of Terror.”

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Sam Neill stars as a professional skeptic who investigates author Sutter Cane’s sudden disappearance, which is noted to coincide with the author’s new book hitting the shelves. Cane’s publisher (played with charm and a wink by Charlton Heston) reveals that Cane’s vanishing isn’t a stunt, while the author’s publicist (Julie Carmen, star of “Fright Night Part II”) reminds everyone that Cane is the real deal, as he “outsells Stephen King.”

The opening credits are of a printing press, piecing together paperbacks of Cane’s latest, while theme music that very badly wants to be Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” blasts over the soundtrack.

Carpenter’s film explores the way the Horror genre, either in print or on film, affects its audience. Call it “John Carpenter’s New Nightmare.” Like Wes Craven’s brilliant satire/fright fest from the year before, this offers a satirical, self-reflective commentary on horror artists and their work.

Just as crucial is how effective this is as a jolt inducer, as “In the Mouth of Madness” is one of Carpenter’s most frightening films, containing some of the scariest imagery of his career.

“In the Mouth of Madness” has a knowing take on fandom, acknowledging the point that affection can cross the line into obsession.

RELATED: WHY JOHN CARPENTER’s ‘THE FOG’ DESERVES YOUR RESPECT

Movie buffs can be an intense crowd, particularly when they’re camping out in line for tickets, waiting hours (or days) to get into the theater and grab the best seat in the house. There is no getting in the way of a fan who is living for the next installment of a series or artist they can’t get enough of.

It’s no different in the literary world.

Proof of this came to me years ago, when I once attended a Harry Potter book release event at a Barnes & Noble store. It was midnight, but there were children everywhere, many in costume, all waiting in a long line, tickets in hand to exchange for the latest, hefty volume of J.K. Rowling storytelling.

An image I’ve never forgotten was a little girl, dressed like Hermione, who was the first in line, bought a copy of the book and pressed it lovingly against her chest, sort of hugging it. She then walked across the room, sat down in an unattended aisle and furiously began reading.

It was quite the spectacle, seeing dozens of kids, obsessed with the unveiling of a new book and unable to keep themselves from reading the moment they had a copy in their hands.

Being a lifelong King reader and present at a few bookstore releases of his work, I’ve been a part of that kind of fandom, too. I can’t say I ever literally embraced a brand-new copy of “It” but when the desire to read a new book is like the burning need to scratch a fuzzy itch on your back, bookworms can become ravenous.

Carpenter’s “In the Mouth of Madness” takes this even further, as fans of Sutter Cane become Darwinian monsters after reading his latest novel.

Only Carpenter would select such a colorful, seemingly mismatched but cleverly assembled ensemble, which includes John Glover, David Warner, Jurgen Prochnow (as Cane) and, again, Heston! Frances Bay is especially unsettling as the seemingly innocent Mrs. Pickman, Prochnow (with a mop of hair) makes Cane genuinely spooky and in the lead, Neill conveys the fear of a cynic who becomes a believer.

The screenplay by Michael De Luca (who, at one point, became the head of New Line Cinema, the company that distributed this film) is witty and fiendishly imaginative. Cane appears to be an unholy combo of Stephen King, H.P. Lovecraft and Clive Barker and, among the many titles in his catalog, a few that stand out are “The Basement’ and “The Feeding.”

While Cane’s origins are never fully revealed, a sci-fi explanation is teased.

DeLuca’s screenplay has a wicked sense of humor (note Neill’s intro line: “Sorry about the balls! It was a lucky shot, that’s all!”), but not every audacious touch works. On occasion, Carpenter’s low-budget background hurts him: gun fire squibs are cheaply replaced by flashes of light, and some of the monsters are barely visible.

The last scene is a clever but failed attempt to break the fourth wall. It might have been kind of fun in movie theaters, but the closing scene is the lone moment where De Luca and Carpenter think big but can’t quite reach as high as their aim.

Some of the visuals reminded me of “The Thing” (1982) and the comparison is favorable. There are also thematic ties to Carpenter’s later “The Ward” (2010), which also questions the point of view of the protagonist’s sanity.

This is one of several Carpenter films depicting horror in small, very American town – Carpenter’s own 1995 remake of “Village of the Damned,” likewise, explored this and arrived a few months later; like “In the Mouth of Madness,” Carpenter’s “Village of the Damned” also failed initially to connect with audiences and critics.

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Carpenter has stated “In the Mouth of Madness” is the third in his “Apocalypse Trilogy,” coming after “The Thing” (1982) and “Prince of Darkness” (1987). There’s no missing the connective threads, as well as noting that Neill, in his second Carpenter film after the overlooked “Memoirs of an Invisible Man” (1992) appears to be having a grand ol’ time.

The film cheekily comments on the publishing mania that still exists between the publishing house and the readers. Everything from the early editions of “The Hunger Games,” “Fifty Shades of Grey,” “Twilight” and anything from Rowling, and the way their distributors turn their works into bestseller frenzy events, applies to the notion that Cane is enabled by his handlers as well as his readers.

The best, most disturbing scenes of “In the Mouth of Madness” play on a demented loop, repeating a cycle of events until the fear is maximized. Neill’s initial reading of Cane’s novel, a night drive to Cane’s fabled Hobb’s End and the failed escape attempt that winds up in the same spot, are among Carpenter’s most brilliant set pieces.

While the creator of “Halloween” (1978) has made better movies, this is his scariest.

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How ‘Truth & Treason’ Differs from Most Nazi Dramas

How ‘Truth & Treason’ Differs from Most Nazi Dramas

We’re still learning about the heroes who stood tall against the Nazi regime.

The latest yarn ripped from the history books is “Truth & Treason,” an impeccably produced tale steeped in faith. Google the real story, and the ending won’t come as a shock. It’s still an enthralling tale filled with the kind of nuance missing in some Nazi-era stories.

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Young Helmuth Hübener (Ewan Horrocks) is the prototypical “good German” during World War II. He’s young and talented, and he’s eager to use his intellect to help the Third Reich. He loves his homeland, after all, and local news reports cover up the truth about, well, everything.

That changes when a Jewish friend disappears under mysterious circumstances. Helmuth also finds a radio that allows him to hear forbidden broadcasts from outside the Nazi bubble. He quickly learns the true nature of the war and yearns to fight back.

He starts mass-producing leaflets that share the truth about the Nazi regime, spreading them across his neighborhood with the help of two dear friends. His persuasive writing makes the leaflets all the more effective, drawing the ire of local officials.

No one knows about his campaign, not even his parents. Can he stay under the Nazi’s radar long enough to make a difference?

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“Truth & Treason” embraces its hero’s faith and how it intersects with his dangerous mission. What Christian could sit by and watch his country crumble under Hitler’s boot? The film is never preachy, but it directly connects our hero’s faith with his actions.

That nimble touch often eludes filmmakers. Not here.

Director/co-writer Matt Whitaker establishes Helmuth’s friend circle with care, capturing moments that make the characters more than historical stand-ins. Horrocks brings a youthful enthusiasm to the part, and when his character strikes up a romance with a co-worker, it’s heartbreaking.

We know this relationship is doomed, but Whitaker lets it play out for our consideration. This is just part of what the lad gives up by refusing to stay silent.

It’s equally hard to watch Helmuth’s father decry his son’s quest for the truth.

This isn’t a thriller by any definition, but a few scenes crackle as Nazi soldiers chase Helmuth down after handing out his latest leaflet.

It’s easy to demonize German officials for their complicity in the Nazi nightmares, but “Truth & Treason” gives grace to the film’s ostensible villain. Rupert Evans plays Erwin Mussener, the Nazi officer tasked with squeezing young Helmuth hard enough to give up his co-conspirators.

Erwin’s family gets a brief, and harrowing back story that fleshes out his character. And when things look grim for Helmuth, Erwin’s reactions prove achingly human. Evans plays those contradictions perfectly.

That element, along with our hero’s assured faith, makes “Truth & Treason” one of the best WWII films in some time.

HiT or Miss: “Truth & Treason” delivers powerful lessons on faith, resilience and heroism in the darkest hours.

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‘Tremors’ – The Perfect Comedy-Horror Hybrid

‘Tremors’ – The Perfect Comedy-Horror Hybrid

The key to why Ron Underwood’s “Tremors” (1990) works so well is that it never forgets it’s a comedy.

Yes, there are giant, worm-like creatures in the ground that pull you under and lots of scary moments, but this sci-fi/horror comedy-contemporary western hybrid never loses its sense of humor and forgets what it is.

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Fred Ward and Kevin Bacon star as Earl and Valentine, two good ol’ boy repairmen who live out in an isolated desert town. Earl and Valentine are a real piece of work: these guys literally sleep in their pick-up truck, eat “bacon and beans” for breakfast, always wear jeans and flannel shirts and are, in the nicest sense, a couple of knuckleheads.

They’re known for being a rascally but dependable team for the town of Perfection which, if I counted right, has about a dozen people living there. The townfolk are warm, surprisingly diverse and share a family dynamic. The setting and look evoke a Western feel that is just right.

When Perfection’s citizens are randomly appearing to be sucked underground, Earl and Valentine are the first to discover in full what they’re up against: hungry, fast and vicious creatures that someone helpfully names “Graboids.”

In the same way “An American Werewolf in London” (1981), “Ghostbusters” (1984), “Tucker & Dale Vs. Evil” (2010) and “The Cabin in the Woods” (2011) are all comedies but have the bite of a scare fest, “Tremors” is that rare, enjoyable two-headed beast that also has it both ways.

I’ve never met anyone who saw “Tremors” and didn’t love it, which is why the film’s brief run in the theaters has always puzzled me. I saw it on opening week (on my birthday, no less) and remember the packed theater at the Wharf Cinema Center going nuts over it.

The screams and laughter were loud and in equal measure from start to finish, but “Tremors” wasn’t a success for its studio until it gradually became a cult favorite.

Part of the film’s undeniable charm comes from its cast. It’s harder than it looks to play “dumb,” especially when the actors in question are Ward and Bacon, two of the most interesting, hardest-working actors of their generation (it’s especially amazing to note that, after this, Ward played Henry Miller in “Henry & June” the same year).

They both fully invest in the endearing nitwits they play, creating a comic duo that is so rich, it could have sustained another movie.

The great Victor Wong and future “Jurassic Park” star Ariana Richards are also in the supporting cast, but the real surprise is seeing Michael Gross (fresh off playing the father on “Family Ties”) and Reba McIntire(!) portray gun-toting survivalists.

Their big scene, in which the sound of gunfire trailing off, then returning, has some of the biggest sustained laughs in the movie.

Yet, even when “Tremors” threatens to become utterly goofy and more of a spoof than a horror movie, it tightens the suspense and keeps us on edge.

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The premise could have been a disaster in the wrong hands, but director Ron Underwood (whose follow-up was the 1991 blockbuster comedy “City Slickers”) gets the story right and creatively stages the attack scenes.
The ground-level POV camera work is an obvious ode to Sam Raimi’s most famous shots from “The Evil Dead” (1983). Though Underwood is working with a budget barely more substantial than what Raimi had on his early films.

The key is to makes audiences squirm and tuck their legs over their knees and off the ground, in fear that something will pull them down. “Tremors” still has that quality, in which wide open spaces in an isolated mountain town feel like a threat, not a place of solitude.

The forgotten “Blood Beach” (1981) tried an early version of this concept and failed to get it right (it also lacks entertainment value and any reason to exist). “Tremors” gets the B-movie thrills it’s going after and, unlike a lot of horror movies, it’s intentionally hilarious and gets better every time you see it.

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Jacob’s Ladder Remains a Can’t Miss Horror Classic

Jacob’s Ladder Remains a Can’t Miss Horror Classic

Adrien Lyne’s “Jacob’s Ladder” (1990) will be too much for most audiences, even the most hardened horror movie watchers.

From the opening scene, Lyne is warning us – don’t get too comfortable, as this is just the beginning.

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We meet Jacob Singer (Tim Robbins) as a soldier in Vietnam. He’s having a lighthearted moment with members of his platoon before enemy gunfire breaks out. The story then jumps ahead years later, with Jacob now living in New York, working as a postman and sharing an apartment with his beautiful girlfriend, Jezzie (Elizabeth Peña).

Jacob seems haunted but comfortable with his new life, until the day he is locked in a subway tunnel and begins to have visions of demons in the midst of the city.

Only Jacob’s chiropractor (Danny Aiello) offers him any verbal comfort. The more Jacob seeks to grasp his state of mind, the more his visions flare up. Is it a conspiracy or is Jacob truly seeing angels and demons in New York City?

Bruce Joel Rubin’s screenplay for “Jacob’s Ladder” was famous for being one of the most beloved but unproduced screenplays in Hollywood. Big-name directors and actors were lured to the project, then abandoned it, believing what Rubin created was brilliant but would never translate to the big screen.

Rubin’s story, of a man haunted by daily glimpses of demons and monsters in his everyday life, offered a straight-faced, no-nonsense exploration of matters both spiritual and secular. The story was bold, challenging and, on paper, easy to read as a tonally difficult project.

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Enter Adrian Lyne, the director of slick, well-crafted films such as “Fatal Attraction” (1987), “Flashdance” (1983) and “9 1/2 Weeks” (1986), who believed (correctly) that, in order for Rubin’s screenplay to work as a movie, the imagery of angels and demons in a modern setting needed to made interpretive, not literal.

By making Rubin’s Dante-esque notions of Hell and Earth and the struggle for salvation more grounded and less f/x-heavy, “Jacob’s Ladder” became accessible and relatable, though no less impactful.

The tortured journey of Singer is all the more harrowing because we genuinely like him. As played by a young, boyish Robbins, Singer is a sweet, long-suffering veteran who genuinely does not deserve the relentless onslaught of anguish and mental torture he faces.

“Jacob’s Ladder” was a turning point for Robbins, who was primarily known for comedies like “Bull Durham” (1988), “Erik the Viking” (1989) “Cadillac Man” (1990) and a well-known flop called “Howard the Duck” (1986). He brings neither movie star bravado nor a comic distance from the material.

In fact, Robbins is so utterly vulnerable, sweet and relatable as Jacob Singer, I can’t imagine the film working without him. He gives himself to every scene, committing to moments that would be challenging and painful for any actor.

The film’s other secret weapons are Robbins’ co-stars, Peña and Aiello. Pena, as Jacob’s girlfriend Jezebel, cannily portrays a dual nature to her mysterious character and is no less than sensational. The late Peña, who excelled in comedies and dramas, gave her best work here.

This may sound like faint praise, but I don’t mean it that way – Aiello is playing the most sympathetic, father-like chiropractor in cinema. His intimate therapy session scenes with Robbins are moving and a necessary break from the more grueling passages.

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“Jacob’s Ladder” is full of great scenes throughout that are mini masterpieces, in both ambition and execution: a late-night walk through an empty subway station, the horrifying dance party transformation, the moment with the tell-tale penny shifting on the ground, the journey on the hospital gurney and Peña’s chilling close-up near the end, all fantastic.

Yet, the most extraordinary passage involves a bathtub and, what we hope, is the reveal of Jacob waking from a nightmare to be with the ones he loves. This portion, which features a pre-“Home Alone” Macaulay Culkin, is the emotional core of the movie, and it’s a real heartbreaker.

I missed seeing this in the theater when it was released during the fall of 1990. Decades later, I caught a revival screening of “Jacob’s Ladder” in Denver. It made me extremely grateful to have missed seeing it in a movie theater when I was 13 years old, as I wouldn’t have been prepared for it.

Few movies have scared me as much as this one, and the demands it makes on the audience (both the attention that must be paid and the scenes that are to be endured) will be too much for some. Yet, a film this terrific is easy to recommend, as it rewards our patience with a tale that, when all is revealed in the end, proves to be uncommonly compassionate.

“Jacob’s Ladder” can be brutal, but few films are this deeply committed to expressing the value of being present and grateful for life’s most irreplaceable moments. Horror films aren’t usually described as beautiful, but this one most certainly is.

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Here’s What Made ‘Fright Night’ Unforgettable

Here’s What Made ‘Fright Night’ Unforgettable

Tom Holland’s “Fright Night” (1985) has held a steady presence with horror fans and vampire movie aficionados alike.

William Ragsdale stars as Charley Brewster, a high school kid who is too shy to initiate third base with his girlfriend (Amanda Bearse) and especially on edge when he discovers that his new neighbor is a bloodsucker. The man next door, Jerry Dandridge, played with humor and great presence by Chris Sarandon, warns Charlie to keep quiet about his discovery.

The undead charmer toys with Charley, threatening to kill him and his mother if he can’t keep his mouth shut.

Charlie’s last resort, after the police and his friends don’t believe him, is hiring movie star Peter Vincent (Roddy McDowall) to get rid of the bloodsucker.

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Vincent is the host of a horror movie TV series that showcases many of his old movies, boasts cheap production values and is bookended by the host talking directly into the camera. I grew up with shows like this. I used to watch “Creature Feature,” which showcased movies like “Godzilla 1985,” and I was (and remain) a huge fan of Elvira, Mistress of the Dark.

These inexpensive shows, which relied heavily on cheesy effects (particularly a busy fog machine), cornball one-liners and (most importantly) a lively “undead” host, still exist but barely. Like drive-in movie theaters, they’re out there.

On occasion, I still watch “Svengoolie” in MeTV and old episodes of “Movie Macabre with Elvira.” There’s something delicious about the airing of a B-movie, hosted by someone who is either a “monster” or a “monster hunter” (Sybil Danning’s “Adventure Video” intros fit into the latter).

The concept of Holland’s “Fright Night” suggests that the horror host hamming it up on TV is the most astute protection you’d need from the vampire living next door to your home, because they’ve seen all the same movies you have and know how to protect themselves and you.

Ragsdale and Bearse are too old to pull off high schoolers, though the film’s comic relief, Stephen Geoffreys (as “Evil Ed”), is believably youthful and appropriately annoying. Far better are Sarandon and McDowell, both terrific.

Holland does a fine job of building the tension by allowing the stillness of the atmosphere to creep in.

The quiet suburbia where Brewster lives, as well as the small town around it, seems more sinister than All-American. While not the full-bodied mix of horror and humor that “The Lost Boys” would prove to be two years later, “Fright Night” is a sly throwback to classic horror films (making it an anomaly in the age of Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger) and as scary and funny as it needs to be.

One sequence, set in an improbable nightclub (seemingly out of place in a small town), showcases the MTV-ready soundtrack and feels like teen audience bait. However, since the scene in question allows Sarandon to be so sexy and play up the seductive nature of the vampire, the movie gets away with it.

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“Fright Night” is vampire-lite, compared to the likes of the subsequent Kathryn Bigelow’s “Near Dark” (1986) and Francis Ford Coppola’s “Bram Stoker’s Dracula” (1992). Nevertheless, while those movies are heavier with their violence and intensity, it’d be wrong to overlook how “Fright Night” and even “The Monster Squad” (1987) were distinctly old school in their depiction of vampirism poisoning the American bloodstream.

Richard Edlund’s visual effects, created a year after his milestone work for “Ghostbusters,” are no less impressive. Holland’s “Child’s Play” (1988) and “Psycho II” (released in 1983, which Holland wrote but didn’t direct) are much scarier, but he should be proud of “Fright Night.”

It pays loving homage to the creaky spookfests that came before it, provides genuine jolts and, unlike most horror films released in 1985, it’s such a treasure chest and spooky, cob-webbed coffin of fun.

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‘After the Hunt’ Tackles Woke Culture Head On

‘After the Hunt’ Tackles Woke Culture Head On

Better late than never?

The same Hollywood that bowed to the woke mind virus is finally confronting it on screen, albeit in halting fashion. Think “Dream Scenario” (2023), “Tar” (2022) and, now, “After the Hunt.”

The previous films nibbled around woke’s toxic edges. “After the Hunt” goes for the jugular, but director Luca Guadagnino isn’t sure what he wants to say about it.

He’s fashioned an intriguing op-ed about ego, academia and privilege, both the white variety and less acknowledged models. It’s dull before it grabs us by the collar, but even an unexpected coda feels too conflicted to land a cultural haymaker.

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Julia Roberts shines as Alma, a Yale professor who seemingly has it all – a handsome husband (Michael Stuhlbarg), a devoted fellow professor (Andrew Garfield as Hank) and a rising star who sees her as a mentor.

That’s Maggie (Ayo Edebiri), a lesbian PhD student who accuses Hank of sexually assaulting her after leaving Alma’s house party one night.

Is Hank guilty? Will he get a fair chance to defend himself? Should Alma stand by Maggie through a very public accusation, one that rocks Yale’s storied traditions?

The plot suggests a juicy, eight-part Netflix series, but Guadagnino and screenwriter Nora Garrett immerse us in academic culture before any questions can be answered. Early scenes are laborious in nature, letting us observe upper-middle-class life in all its insufferable glory.

It’s a chore to connect with anyone on screen.

Maggie’s social justice warrior pose feels off-putting yet accurate. And what if she’s telling the truth about Hank? Why won’t Alma rush to her side, rather than navigate a system where justice isn’t the prime directive?

“After the Hunt” offers a slow-burn approach to the culture wars, and Roberts is the perfect vehicle from which to observe the muted fireworks. Alma wants to do the right thing, but she craves tenure more than she cares to admit.

 

 
 
 
 
 
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Garrett’s screenplay touches on privilege, pronouns and other woke flourishes. At times, those elements plug effortlessly into the story. A few scenes feel stripped from a college paper on restorative justice.

Late in the film, we hear a news snippet tied to DEI’s recent decline. No filmmaker of Guadagnino’s status should lean on such narrative gimmicks.

One sequence mimics “Tar’s” viral clip, where Cate Blanchett’s character excoriates a woke student. Roberts handles the moment beautifully, with Guadagnino’s camera capturing both Alma’s rage and the reaction from her startled students.

The Alma/Hank dynamic reminds of how good Garfield can be when handed challenging material. Their bond gives the third act its undeniable firepower, and the actors brilliantly work through an encounter that could have descended into parody.

The film’s discordant score, courtesy of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, veers from a relentless ticking clock to more conventional notes. We’re uncomfortable from start to finish, an appropriate match for the material.

If “After the Hunt” is the director’s attempt to address the culture wars, it’s not always clear what he wants to say. One undeniable message? Get uncomfortable. That’s where growth happens, be it in a classroom or elsewhere.

It’s why “After the Hunt,” as messy as it may be, is the kind of thought-provoking tale we need.

HiT or Miss: “After the Hunt” features a bravura performance by Julia Roberts and mixed messaging about the dying woke revolution.

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How Wes Craven’s ‘Cursed’ Felt Hollywood’s Wrath

How Wes Craven’s ‘Cursed’ Felt Hollywood’s Wrath

Wes Craven’s “Cursed” (2005) had a scandalously troubled production and, at one point, seemed in danger of never being released.

Few films have been through the post-production nightmare this one endured and, truth be told, the end result is messy but a lot of fun and suggests it was headed in the right direction.

The ironically titled “Cursed,” which began filming in 2003 and belatedly arrived in 2005, stars Christina Ricci as Ellie, a car crash survivor who, along with her brother Jimmy (Jesse Eisenberg), is attacked by a werewolf. That this happens in Hollywood leads to a highly skeptical reaction: Nick Offerman has a funny cameo as a medic who improbably reveals “there hasn’t been a wolf attack in 70 years.”

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Ellie, post-wolf bite, is acting strangely at her job, working at “The Late Late Show with Craig Kilborn” (yes, it’s awkward to note that Kilborn wasn’t even the host by the time this played in theaters and has an unfortunate cameo appearance).

Meanwhile, Eisenberg’s Jimmy is quick to realize what’s happening (in the same way Jamie Kennedy in “Scream” was a know-it-all doomsayer). Meanwhile, Ellie’s boyfriend (a never-better Joshua Jackson) notices how odd she’s acting, as bodies and werewolf sightings begin to stack up in The Entertainment Capitol of the World.

According to various news reports, sad accounts and Craven himself, the behind-the-scenes story goes like this: “Cursed” was to be the red-hot collaboration and re-teaming of Craven with his “Scream” author, Kevin Williamson. Their werewolf tale had a colorful ensemble cast, the financial backing of Dimension Films (who funded and distributed the “Scream” movies) and a novel, updated take on lycanthropy.

FAST FACT: Christina Ricci made her big-screen acting debut in 1990’s “Mermaids” co-starring Cher.

Apparently, at some point near post-production, the powers-that-be decided the film required massive re-shoots with a mostly new cast.

Suddenly, Skeet Ulrich was out, and his role was now played by Jackson. Eisenberg (in his first major film role) was no longer playing Ricci’s boyfriend but her brother. Among those cut entirely were “A Nightmare on Elm Street” star Heather Langenkamp and Corey Feldman.

After the highly compromised second version wrapped filming, Craven had the indignity of his R-rated film not only being cut down to a PG-13, but also dumped into theaters in February, without a critic’s screening. It died in theaters after a weak opening weekend and bad word of mouth.

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Craven’s latter films have been inconsistent, to say the least, but he was in no danger of having his Master of Horror title revoked, and there’s lots in “Cursed” to suggest, minus the studio tampering, the film could have worked in full instead of in part.

Even with the jumbled narrative, it’s clear Craven and Williamson were aiming to make “The Player” with werewolves. It’s even possible to see themes and story aspects from Craven’s 1994 masterpiece, “Wes Craven’s New Nightmare,” which also explored the nature of identity in the lives of those who play make-believe for a living.

Using Hollywood as a springboard for the werewolf lore provides a few ripe targets, particularly Judy Greer’s juicy role as a caustic star agent: I encountered someone like her character at Comic Con years ago and can vouch that the sort of real monster she’s playing, while a necessary evil in show business, is spot-on.

The scenes of Eisenberg going Teen Wolf at his high school are very funny, with much of the credit going to the actor, who gives an inspired comic turn.

The missed opportunities are also in plain view: why cast Scott Baio as “himself” (he presumably took over for Feldman) if he isn’t going to wind up playing a werewolf? Why offer two big, extensive, action-packed climaxes but no real ending?

The final fade-out is a stop, not a real narrative closure.

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Ricci is a major talent and a darling of the independent film world, whose career got sidelined by appearing in too many sub-par horror movies (though this is the best one she made). She has a great scene where her character (not unlike Jack Nicholson in the 1994 “Wolf”) uses her wolf powers to go hunting at work.

Likewise, Eisenberg has a hilarious bit where he discovers his dog is also going through a drastic change. For all the good scenes scattered throughout, it still feels like a first cut.

The visual effects range from impressive to painfully unfinished: the werewolves sometimes appear vivid, through CGI or creature effects, but there are a couple of regrettable shots in which actors seem to be dressed in fuzzy monster costumes.

RELATED: CRAVEN’S ‘DEADLY BLESSING’ REVEALS AUTEUR IN TRANSITION

For Craven completists (I hope I’m not the only one out there), this is better, more ambitious, funnier and sharper than the late-career misses of “Shocker” (1989), “Deadly Friend” (1986) and “Scream 3” (2000). Similar to Craven’s “Vampire in Brooklyn” (1995), it deserves its cult following and is better than its initial reputation.

It’s still an interesting miss and not the classic it could and should have been.

That may sound like faint praise, but the blueprint for a great horror/comedy is in plain sight. Even as a flawed work, it’s more fun than its reputation would leave you to expect.

Craven may have gone down with the ship on the initial reception of “Cursed,” though a cult following has given it a slightly better reception than the initial reaction 20 years ago. Thankfully, Craven had the acclaimed hit “Red Eye” in theaters six months later, reclaiming his status as a genre master and briefly putting aside memories of “Cursed” to rest.

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‘The Bride’ Is a Totally ’80s Misfire

‘The Bride’ Is a Totally ’80s Misfire

Franc Roddam’s “The Bride” (1985) is among the most peculiar adaptations of James Whale’s “The Bride of Frankenstein” (1935).

Despite a massive budget, support from the studio and the casting of Sting as Dr. Frankenstein (at the height of his Police popularity) and Jennifer Beals (post-“Flashdance” ascension) as The Bride, it’s half a good movie and the best half isn’t the one with them in it.

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It begins with rain outside a castle window. Sting, filmed in profile as lightning strikes, broods us into a perfect start. We’re watching Dr. Frankenstein in the moment before The Bride is created.

The Bride is eventually named “Eva” and, in the manner of Dr. Higgins and Eliza Rose, is instructed how to be a model individual in sophisticated society. There are some setbacks, of course, particularly a choice moment where Eva sees a cat for the first time and hisses at it.

Meanwhile, Frankenstein’s Monster (Clancy Brown) his first and unloved creation, is now roaming the earth and befriends a performer named Reynaldo. Brown, (post-“Buckaroo Banzai” in 1984, but pre-“Highlander” in 1986) gives a limited but undeniably fascinating take on The Monster, who is sometimes referred to as “Viktor.”

The Monster is paired for most of the film with Renaldo, played by David Rappaport, the lead of the short-lived but fondly remembered TV series “The Wizard” (1986-87).

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Although “The Wizard” lasted one season, Rappaport was a compelling lead. Likewise, even with bigger names on the call sheet, Rappaport steals “The Bride” and his scenes with Brown are the most impactful.
The strong beginning leads to segments with choppy editing, cutting back and forth between Eva and The Monster at random moments, suggesting there are lots of missing scenes here.

Considering the muted eroticism and some brutal moments, I wonder if this used to be a hard-R but was chopped down to something more mainstream.

Brown is playing The Monster in the way Karloff once did – Brown’s performance and characterization get better over the course of the film, but he can’t make the role his own. I even prefer Emma Stone’s Oscar-winning and overrated turn in “Poor Things” (2023) to what Brown does here.

Anthony Higgins, the terrific actor who played a scene-stealing role of a mentor in “Young Sherlock Holmes” (1985) is wasted here in a reactionary part. Higgins, who can be intense and terrific in the right role, should have been given more to do than just comment on how odd Eva is acting.

It’s not just the townsfolk who are mean to The Monster – the movie is also cruel. Note the bit where The Monster tosses a gift he bought the Bride; the movie and its meanness towards The Monster never ceases. I wished there was at least one segment where the movie could give us a break from the cruelty The Monster faces. That said, I recognize that this is “Frankenstein,” not “Little Women.”

“The Bride” emerges as an unpleasant meditation on how life and especially mankind punish the innocent. Kindness and naivete are crushed in this cruel world.

Sting and Beals were already 1980s icons at this point and are always fun to watch. I wish Sting had contributed more to this than his steadily cranky performance. Yes, Sting captures the madness within, but his Frankenstein mostly seems irritated.

As Gothic Horror goes, “The Bride” looks great and certain shots can mesmerize. Maurice Jarre’s score is both robustly romantic and eerie. As lush as the film is, I still think Ridley Scott would’ve been a better choice as director, though Scott was suffering through the difficult shoot of “Legend” at the time this was being made.

It’s established that there’s a psychic connection between The Bride and The Monster, a compelling touch that is never explained and goes nowhere. Likewise, Cary Elwes is cast as a romantic threat and possible suitor for The Bride; considering how he starred in “The Princess Bride” two years later, the idea of The Monster and Westley fighting over the Bride of Frankenstein is delicious!

The ending is a rushed disaster, as all goodwill literally goes out the castle window. “The Bride” falls apart at the ending, which was reportedly reshot, though it could have benefited from another try at a proper conclusion.

Minor spoiler: the end credits leave us with Beals sporting her familiar “Flashdance” (1983) era hair, so there’s that (and by “that,” I mean the filmmakers are throwing a measly bone at the audience demographic that went to see this).

With Maggie Gyllenhaal’s “The Bride!” scheduled to open in March of 2026, with Christian Bale playing Frankenstein’s Monster and Jessie Buckley as Frankenstein’s Bride, I wonder if another lavish go at this story will go the distance or emerge another misshapen creature.

Gyllenhaal’s film has been delayed twice, a possible sign of it running into the same problems as “The Bride.”

To be fair, a delayed release doesn’t always mean the film in question doesn’t work (David Fincher’s “Zodiac” was pushed down the road enough to distract some from initially catching the best film of 2007 in theaters).

I wish Gyllenhaal luck, as they not only have to compete with Whale and Elsa Lancaster, as well as Sting and Beals, but Guillermo Del Toro’s “Frankenstein,” which opens in November (and the likeliest reason “The Bride!” is being pushed out of fall).

Let’s hope “The Bride!” is a worthy representation of “Frankenstein” and the patched together Franken-monster that is “The Bride.”

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‘Roofman’ Flexes Power of Christian Redemption

‘Roofman’ Flexes Power of Christian Redemption

“Roofman” is so crazy it must be based on actual events.

Phew … it is.

That gives this engaging film an edge and some necessary structure. Few would buy a kindhearted thief who spent months living in a toy store while wooing a comely Christian. The film’s real roots still pose a problem, but it’s one star Channing Tatum makes us mostly forget with his winning performance.

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Tatum stars as Jeffrey Manchester, a military veteran struggling to make ends meet. He can’t even afford a bike for his adorable daughter.

So he taps into his curious skill set – he’s handy with tools and notices things few others can spot. That leads to a life of crime, specifically breaking into fast-food joints through the ceiling to grab their cash.

He’s unfailingly polite while robbing perfect strangers, even giving one worker the coat off his back before locking him in the restaurant’s cooler. Awwww. The press dubs him Roofman for his preferred point of entry, but before long police crack his criminal code.

He uses those same skills to escape prison, finding a temporary home within the bowels of a Toys ‘R Us store. He eventually meets a sweet divorcee named Leigh (Kirsten Dunst), essentially starting a second family in the process.

Awww. Ewww?

“Roofman” is so invested in Jeffrey’s sweet nature that it doesn’t fully come to grips with his trickery. It helps that Tatum is at his most charming here, flashing kindness to everyone he meets. 

That’s actually a problem.

Surely the real Manchester had a demon or two to slay, or at the very least compartmentalized his actions in a way that hid their cruelty. We see little of the kind here, save a driving sequence where Jeffrey pushes matters too far.

Yet director Derek Cianfrance (“Blue Valentine”) keeps the mood light and limber, even extending grace to a Christian subplot. Jeffrey connects with both Leigh and her church community, a rare mainstream example of faith given a gentle close-up.

That includes the great Ben Mendelsohn as a church leader, but “Rooftop” doesn’t give the “Bloodline” alum much to do. Inconceivable!

Peter Dinklage gets more mileage from his character, an unctuous Toys ‘R Us boss who gives his scenes a necessary snap.

Tatum and Dunst share sweet chemistry, with the latter flashing a shocking naivety about her beau’s tics. His excuses for his curious lifestyle (a mysterious job and much more) should trigger her Spidey senses, but she’s hungry for companionship and kindness.

Who can’t relate?

“Roofman” is about redemption as well as a crazed reality worthy of the big screen. The story in question can only deliver so much cinematic warmth, but the film and the real world overlap just enough to offer hope in dark times.

HiT or Miss: “Roofman” is a sweet, sentimental yarn based on events so crazy even the best screenwriter couldn’t make them up.

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‘Arachnophobia’ Remains King of the Spider Thriller

‘Arachnophobia’ Remains King of the Spider Thriller

Frank Marshall’s “Arachnophobia” (1990) remains the gold standard for spider-themed horror movies, an oddity, since this gritty PG-13 comic thriller is actually a Disney movie in disguise.

The premise sounds right out of a Roger Corman movie, as a new doctor in a small town (Jeff Daniels) must face his severe fear of spiders when the townsfolk are suddenly dying from spider bites. A cluster of scientists and even a local bug man (played by John Goodman) are puzzled by the unusual nature of the rising death toll.

Yes, folks, it’s a Disney movie!

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Specifically, it’s the first from its Hollywood Pictures, another adult-minded film distributor spin-off, which later released everything from “Alive” (1993) to “The Sixth Sense” (1999). Whereas Touchstone Pictures, the first Disney release label for grown-up offerings, made its debut with “Splash” (1984), this one has a body count, major jump scares and Daniels’ best performance prior to teaming with Jim Carrey.

While not a success on the level of “Jaws” (1975), Marshall’s low-key but effective thriller managed to be a mid-sized, acclaimed hit, with a title that has stayed in the public lexicon.

The only thing about “Arachnophobia” that never caught on was the studio’s insistence that this was a “Thrill-omedy.” That odd, unappealing juxtaposition of two words was in most of the early press releases, for some reason.

Being the first Disney film to be distributed by their newly minted studio and production label, the Mouse House may not have sold us on the coinage of a “thrill-omedy” but they sure got us to remember what Arachnophobia is.

By the way, the original title was “Itsy Bitsy” at one point.

The early scenes had me worried, as the tone is initially so lightweight, I wondered if the terror this movie once instilled in me was due to my being 13 when it came out. The buildup is akin to the similar “Jaws” (1975), which, likewise, requires the viewer to be patient.

The big jumps are on the way.

As gentle as the character-establishing scenes of “Arachnophobia” are, they give way to what director Frank Marshall (whose best movie this is) and executive producer Steven Spielberg are aiming for: a full-throttle, B-movie scare-a-thon.

By the second act, a playfully nasty, drive-in movie approach takes over.

While the movie is never mean-spirited, gory and overly offensive, it becomes like its central monster: out in the open, unleashed and ready to attack.

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Daniels is good at making us feel his character’s crippling fear of arachnids, and it’s impossible not to enjoy Goodman’s extended cameo as a braggadocios bug exterminator. Really, though, the humans are spider food.

The real stars are the eight-legged critters. Daniels even refers to them as “Eight Legged Freaks” at one point, though this is a scarier, better movie than the 2002, David Arquette-starring giant spider monster mash.
I’m not sure if “Arachnophobia” is better than the William Shatner-starring “Kingdom of Spiders” (1977), but I’m still giving this one the edge.

The go-for-broke finale, with Daniels facing an army of arachnids with a flame thrower, plays like the ending of “Aliens” (1986), albeit with more legs scurrying across the floor.

The many scenes of spiders sneaking into the homes and private spaces of local townspeople have the power to fully creep anyone out. For a Disney movie, “Arachnophobia” still has lots of bite.

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‘Tron: Ares’ Offers A.I. for Dummies

‘Tron: Ares’ Offers A.I. for Dummies

Did anyone ask for another “Tron” installment?

The 1982 original famously failed before becoming a cult favorite. The 2010 sequel “Tron: Legacy” proved modestly successful, with few clamoring for more.

Now, with the advent of A.I., it makes sense to revive the sleeping franchise, but “Tron: Ares” suggests a Grok-ian screenplay led the way.

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The film is obviously linked to the 1982 source material, but much of “Legacy” is left behind. We see fleeting images of that film’s stars (Garrett Hedlund, Olivia Wilde), little more than visual Easter eggs.

This story pits Kevin Flynn’s enduring ENCOM versus a meany corporation named Dillinger seeking to weaponize A.I. The problem? Whatever Team Dillinger creates in the real world turns to black dust after 30 minutes.

They need to find the Permanence Code to fix the situation and change the world.

ENCOM’s scrappy leader, Eve Kim (Greta Lee), thinks she has the solution, but Dillinger’s A.I. soldiers are tasked with stopping her at all costs. That includes Ares (Jared Leto) and Athena (Jodie Turner-Smith), and they’re not limited to computer screens.

They walk among us.

Athena is a generic bad-ass, but Ares swiftly shows signs of, well, more than just artificial life. Think Data from “Star Trek: TNG” or even Ah-nold from “Terminator: Judgment Day.”

More human than human? But why the rush? It’s not Leto’s fault. His performance intrigues, but he’s been saddled with cutesy dialogue that speeds through his “evolution.” Sorry, a few shout-outs to Depeche Mode don’t seal the deal.

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The story itself is simplified in a way that doesn’t suit the heady themes in play. None of that matters, for a spell, due to the visual opulence ruling every shot. Director Joachim Rønning (“Maleficent: Mistress of Evil”) and his crew of FX wizards have outdone themselves here.

New worlds. New visuals. Stunning, all stunning. The NIN soundtrack slots effortlessly into this cyber-realm, distracting us from the sad truth. This is a glib, crowd-pleasing sequel with all the depth of a Sunday morning puddle.

It’s never dull, and the able cast creates some tension that’s sadly lacking in the screenplay. Evan Peters isn’t up to the task of playing the film’s heavy – the head of Dillinger. His scenes with co-star Gillian Anderson, playing his common-sense Momma, come up as minor at best.

A few action scenes crackle, but they’re burdened with franchise call-outs. Why do those Tron bikes still leave a physical wall in their wake? Can’t we move on from those disc-like weapons?

The project feels like a contractual obligation, rather than a new story born from a fascinating but flawed ’80s feature.

That leads us to Jeff Bridges’ return, a glorified cameo that adds little to the proceedings beyond the obligatory member berries.

“Tron: Ares” looks like the future of filmmaking, but in more ways than one, it’s rooted in the franchise-heavy present.

HiT or Miss: “Tron: Ares” is slick and easily digested, but you’ll forget what you saw on the ride home from the theater.

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Is ‘Misery’ the Best Stephen King Adaptation?

Is ‘Misery’ the Best Stephen King Adaptation?

Rob Reiner’s “Misery” (1990) has become one of the director’s most well-known and frequently quoted films, which is ironic, as Reiner mostly made comedies up to that point.

“I’m your number one fan.”

Is there anyone alive who doesn’t know the origin of that quote? While many have uttered that phrase, it’s safe to say that few have meant it as much as Annie Wilkes, in declaring her love for Paul Sheldon, her favorite writer and captive.

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In Stephen King’s 1987 novel, “Misery,” Wilkes, a reclusive former nurse, is keeping her favorite writer holed up in her cabin. Their relationship turns from devoted fan/guest to brutal punisher/captive, as she forces him to write a blatantly commercial novel…or else. Reiner’s film of King’s “Misery,” adapted by William Goldman for the screen, remains an artistic high point for everyone involved.

Reiner’s sole thriller is his best film, a cleverly constructed seat gripper that was a real surprise coming from him. At this point in his career, Reiner had made “This is Spinal Tap” (1984), “The Sure Thing” (1985), “Stand by Me” (1986), “The Princess Bride” (1987) and “When Harry Met Sally…” (1989), all great films, none of them remotely like the other.

The only connective thread they share is Reiner’s consistent directorial flexibility, in which he was willing to adapt to the demands and tone of the material.

Working with Goldman’s smart, rich screenplay and Barry Sonnenfeld’s versatile, acrobatic cinematography, Reiner manages to set the story mostly in one room, which alternates between appearing either invitingly warm or a dreaded location for a wake.

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The cast is another essential reason for the film’s success. James Caan was no one’s first pick for a romance novelist, and the against-type casting works. Caan’s Paul Sheldon is admittedly writing the Misery Chastain novels as an artistic compromise and a means for revenue, not critical acclaim.

Caan’s face conveys the long, sad, sell-out that Sheldon has been enduring and how the creation of his latest, Misery-free novel is a reason to feel alive again.

Kathy Bates was the film’s biggest discovery, as the former stage star and sometime character actress was assigned a role conceived by King as older. From her first moment on camera, Bates is ideal as Annie Wilkes, making the character’s brute strength, folksy demeanor, and pride a thin mask of sanity that is always about to break.

Her outbursts become bigger and scarier as the film progresses, and Bates makes Wilkes a hypnotic tour de force.

I share a film buff’s enthusiasm for “The Shawshank Redemption” (1994), “The Shining” (1980), “The Dead Zone” (1983), “Pet Sematary” (both versions), “The Mist” (2007), “Dolores Claiborne” (1995), “Cat’s Eye” (1985), “The Green Mile’ (1999), “1408” (2007) and Reiner’s “Stand By Me” (1986) but I’d say “Misery” is the best King film. The core reason is that it’s a much better movie than it is a book.

Reiner and Goldman have deleted the aspects of the novel that were, to use King’s terminology, “gooshy.” An absurd murder with a lawn mower and a too-much moment with an axe (replaced, rather artfully, in the film with a sledgehammer) have been altered or are altogether gone.

“Misery” is quite violent at times and the grisly moments are well-earned and expertly staged.

 

Reiner has made it more of a psychological chess match than a gory free-for-all that King inched towards. The emphasis on Buster the Sheriff (movingly played by Richard Farnsworth), his wife (the always-wonderful Frances Sternhagen) and Paul’s literary agent (film legend Lauren Bacall) adds a relief from the two-person structure and welcome comic relief. The actors make these figures engaging and real, as opposed to mere supporting character distractions.

“Misery” became a Broadway stage play at the Broadhurst Theater in 2015. Laurie Metcalfe played Wilkes and, as Paul Sheldon, her co-star was no less than Bruce Willis. While the Broadway adaptation was written by Goldman, I was present at the legendary 2008 production, penned by Simon Moore, that took place in the Miner’s Alley Playhouse in Golden, CO.

It was a two-person show starring Paige Larson and Carjado Lindsey (both riveting as Wilkes and Sheldon). The production maintained the original foot-severing scene from King’s novel. It made for a terrifying night of theater that still haunts my wife and me.

“Misery” is a perfect thriller and a rich commentary on how one writes “for a living,” literally and figuratively. It works as a cautionary tale against embracing one’s fandom. It’s also a grisly romantic comedy.

Even the final scene, which could have played as a jokey fade-out, is truly chilling in its implications. When you’re Paul Sheldon (or Stephen King, or Steven Spielberg, or anyone famous), everyone you meet is a potential Annie Wilkes.

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PMPF Reviews: ‘Frenzy Moon,’ ‘Spelonk,’ ‘Beyond the Drumlins’

PMPF Reviews: ‘Frenzy Moon,’ ‘Spelonk,’ ‘Beyond the Drumlins’

Werewolves never go out of style.

The howling. The body horror on steroids. The sense that our closest friend or neighbor could be a snarling beast come nightfall.

“Frenzy Moon” leans hard into that spirit, along with some “Let’s put on a show” gumption given its small, partially crowd-funded budget. Sadly, the best genre intentions can’t lift the well-meaning shocker out of mediocrity.

A bloody prologue sets the story in motion, a cheeky nod to the film’s B-movie gumption. Three couples decamp for a, wait for it, cabin in the woods. Along the way, one of the couples hits a stranger with their car.

Said stranger knows what the six pals don’t, at least not yet. Werewolves stalk the grounds, and their vacation break will swiftly become a nightmare.

Director Gregory Lamberson, who walked off with the Pittsburgh Moving Picture Festival’s Best Horror Movie honors, pours on the practical effects and gore. That should satiate horror junkies, as will the frequent creature close-ups.

Still, the more we see of the beasts, the less ferocious they appear.

Less history, more mystery, as the dating advice goes. Or, as Steven Spielberg learned via that malfunctioning shark on the “Jaws” set, less is more. There’s no shame in throwing shadows over scenes to camouflage sub-Savini FX.

The main characters offer enough dubious behavior to merit their potential kill scenes, but a mid-film twist and some furious, third-act gunplay can’t raise the stakes as hoped.

“Spelonk”

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Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.

So goeth “Spelonk,” a wildly original tale from filmmaker Desmond Denton. The hour-long feature follows a warrior with serious Mad Max vibes as he wanders through a dystopian future where water is in short supply.

The indie film stretches its modest budget to the brink, a lesson mainstream Hollywood dwellers would be wise to consider. Denton ingeniously depicts a future hellscape complete with nightmarish characters and fascinating tech tools.

It’s a triumph of production design and craftiness, a storyteller refusing to bow to his fiscal constraints. Any given scene is a visual triumph, and the film’s blend of high-tech goodies and swordplay reflects a fascinating realm worth exploring.

The story still feels undernourished, clunkily shifting from scene to scene as if critical moments were left in a dystopian scrap heap.

The film’s heartfelt moments hit harder than expected, and star Eric Uys brings a melancholy spirit to the film without shedding his humanity.

“Spelonk” feels like a work in progress, a project demanding a serious second look. That might reveal something … revelatory.

‘Beyond the Drumlins’

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A kindly professor (co-writer Michael Kowalski) leads a troupe into the woods for an archaeological field trip. It’s a chance to flex his knowledge and give an inquisitive TA (Emma Jessop) some real-world experience.

The trip starts innocently enough, even if all they initially uncover is a rusty bottlecap. Soon, the TA develops a mysterious cough, the crew’s hired hand (Goodfella Mike G) falls into a stupor and a member of the group goes missing.

That’s just the beginning. The mysteries deepen, the danger escalates and we’re left wondering if any of the likable characters will emerge unscathed.

Co-writer/director Daniel W. Bowhers ladles out the mysteries with care, using the landscape’s natural beauty to his advantage. Performances are strong, and the cinematography veers from bucolic to unsettling as needed.

No spoilers here, but the film’s gentle sci-fi rhythms grow darker as the story unfolds.

The film, dubbed the PMPF’s best science fiction feature, proves a satisfying head-scratcher, even if its final seconds leave audiences hungry for more.

The 2025 Pittsburgh Moving Picture Festival runs through Oct. 9.

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‘Lord of Illusions’ Is Clive Barker at His Bloodiest

‘Lord of Illusions’ Is Clive Barker at His Bloodiest

Clive Barker’s “Lord of Illusions” (1995) requires patience and a strong stomach.

I resisted this horror/detective thriller hybrid for years before finally becoming a fan after a fourth attempted viewing. Here’s the thing: if you’re a fan of imaginative, layered horror films and aren’t especially squeamish, this will work for you.

If you’re feeling like an adventurous filmgoer, know this: the first 20 minutes of “Lord of Illusions” are pretty disgusting, full of gag-inducing imagery that made me want to abandon ship.

Then, the story begins to take hold, the tone takes a no-kidding modern film noir approach, and the really gross and disconnected elements start to cohere.

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The story opens on a Charles Manson-like cult, living in the desert and lingering on every word of the devilish Nix (the late Daniel von Bargen), who knows real magic. Swann (Kevin J. O’Conner), an ex-cult member, storms Nix’s hideout, guns blazing and both frees an abducted prisoner and battles Nix using his own methods of magic.

The establishing scene, involving Nix’s grotesque followers, Nix flying through the air and an angry baboon, is so intense, it’s hard to watch. The way Nix is subdued and placed under control is, likewise, not fun to witness.

The story then jumps ahead years later, with Scott Bakula introduced as Harry D’Amour, a detective who specializes in the supernatural. His latest case involves a connection to a former member of Nix’s cult, as well as the reemergence of Swann as a famous stage magician.

Harry comes across a murder victim who has been impaled with more utensils than a Cutco sheaf.

This visual, of a ritual killing survivor, made me ready to say “uncle” and bid adieu to Barker’s uniquely grotesque visions of modern horror. To my surprise, the story settled down, the characters became richer and my endurance was replaced by true fascination.

For starters, Bakula is wonderful as Harry, carrying this bizarre vehicle with a presence and style that’s a striking difference from his goofy, affable turn on “Quantum Leap.” Then there’s Famke Janssen, in her other ’95 breakout role in a United Artists film (her Bond Villain in “GoldenEye” being the other one).

She’s a 100% proof femme fatale, making a striking entrance and holding the screen every bit as entrancingly as Bakula.

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Playing the truly vile Nix, von Bargen is terrifying, arguable the scariest on-screen Barker villain. The weak link is O’Conner, a good actor who fails to make Swann a dynamic figure, both on stage and as a threat. Yet, the character seems like a precursor to Criss Angel as much as Nix is clearly a warlock variation on Manson.

There’s a scene set in the Hollywood Magic Castle club for magicians (a real place!). Barker deliciously syncs this up with Erasure’s “Magic Moments” playing on the soundtrack. We get a view of the club members, enthusiastic but glib magicians who are both fearful and in awe of Swann’s abilities.

At this point, I could see where Barker was going with this, melding the world of stage illusionists with the suggestion that real magic and actual power can only corrupt the soul.

The most famous sequence is of Swann’s stage show, in which a spectacular illusion goes awry and becomes a messy form of performance art (the CGI during these and other scenes is primitive but enjoyably stylish). Then the earth-shaking, kitchen-sink-and-everything-else grand finale, which is wild, excessive and completely nuts.

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There have been more thoughtful, psychologically complex depictions of those who perform magic as a profession, and Barker’s unflinching depiction of sadistic violence makes this difficult to recommend for casual moviegoers.

Even those who tell me they “can take” graphic violence may not be ready for Barker; his onscreen bloodletting is uncannily off-putting, though, come to think of it, that may be the point and a good one at that.

There is a rich, thoughtful, go-for-the-throat approach to cinematic storytelling in Barker’s films. “Nightbreed” may be his masterpiece, but “Lord of Illusions” is an equally memorable sleight of hand.

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‘Stephen King’s Cat’s Eye’ – When King Ruled Pop Culture

‘Stephen King’s Cat’s Eye’ – When King Ruled Pop Culture

“Stephen’s King’s Cat’s Eye” (1985, which King wrote, and Lewis Teague directed, is set in a time when King was as present in pop culture as Walt Disney.

While King’s popularity has never waned, there was a moment when his name and works were ubiquitous. You couldn’t go to a bookstore, turn on a TV, read a magazine or go to a multiplex and not see his name, seemingly everywhere.

In the mid-’80s, King’s novels, TV-movies and film adaptations, magazine cover stories and TV interviews were unavoidable. The enjoyable quality of “Stephen King’s Cat’s Eye” is that, right from the start, the film knows we’re living in King’s world.

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After an eerie, dazzling opening title shot (in which the screen is engulfed by a feline’s pupil), we see a cat running through suburbia, encountering characters from King’s movies. “Cujo” the dog and “Christine” the killer car make cameo appearances, the first of many out-in-the-open nods to King’s omnipresence in pop culture.

Later, characters are seen reading his books and watching his movies. Rather than a cheeky joke, it feels just right. After all, why wouldn’t King be as popular in one of his screenplays as he is in real life?

RELATED: HOW ROB REINER SAVED STEPHEN KING MOVIES

The cat, who is later named “General,” is on an odd quest, being led to the home of a young girl named Amanda (Drew Barrymore, utterly adorable), who summons the feline to protect her. It’s a strange concept that the story never resolves (when the cat finally gets to Amanda, there’s no explanation of the psychic connection between them and the plot angle is dropped altogether).

Yet, as a plot line to string together the three stories (two of which are adaptations from King’s 1978 “Night Shift” collection), it keeps us intrigued. Also helping enormously is that the cat in question is likable and “acts” convincingly.

The animal’s trainer somehow makes us believe that “General” is driven, compassionate and on-edge (as opposed to bored, hungry, tired and annoyed, like most normal cats).

 

The first vignette, “Quitters Inc.,” is the film’s best, smartest sequence. The cat winds up in New York and comes into the life of a chain smoker (James Woods) who tries to quit his habit by enrolling in a “radical” new form of therapy.

The No Smoking guru is played by Alan King, and the sequence, both diabolical and quite funny, has an appropriate, if jarring, mean streak. Woods and King are visibly taking their roles seriously, but only to a point and appear to be enjoying themselves.

A party sequence at the mid-point doesn’t really work (the comic relief is too much), but the wrap-up and surprise at the end are chilling.

The cat escapes from King’s clutches and winds up in Atlantic City for the second story, “The Ledge.” Robert Hays plays an unfortunate soul who, against his will, must climb along the edge of a tall building.

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The forced perspectives, miniatures and sets are so good, the sequence conveys the horror of being stuck on the side of a building, with every step a bet against gravity.

Somehow, the cat (who is quite the traveler) ditches the high rise and winds up in suburbia for the third vignette. He finally connects with Barrymore’s Amanda, who is terrorized by a monster living in her bedroom wall.

As a kid, this was my favorite sequence – what’s not to love about a cat fending off a gruesome but goofy troll who attacks you as you sleep? As in the prior episode, the sets and special effects are exceptional.

Director Teague (whose prior film was the terrifying “Cujo” in 1983) appears to be having fun and so does everyone else. Barrymore’s multiple appearances are striking, particularly the touching way she plays Wood’s special-needs daughter in the first sequence.

Alan Silvestri’s synthesizer score can be corny, but his title theme is seriously spooky. So is much of “Cat’s Eye,” which has an edge and earns its PG-13 rating, though it’s still sillier and more fun than most King adaptations.

While not on the level of brilliant works like “The Shining” (1980), “Misery” (1990) or “The Shawshank Redemption” (1994), “Stephen King’s Cat’s Eye” is nastier, pulpier and even weirder than his earlier “Creepshow.” It demonstrates that, in the movies as well as real life, people read an awful lot of Stephen King novels.

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PMPF Review: ‘Dead, White & Blue’

PMPF Review: ‘Dead, White & Blue’

Director Mike Davis knows there’s a treasure trove of public domain footage just waiting to be recycled.

“I wanted to make a film, but I didn’t have any money,” the director told the audience at this year’s Pittsburgh Moving Picture Festival in Sewickley, Pa.

So he tapped that supply of forgotten video for the cultural satire “Dead, White & Blue.” The comedy offers a steady stream of big, unexpected laughs along with plenty of social commentary, nearly all from the Left side of the political aisle.

Funny is funny, and you don’t need to share Davis’ worldview to laugh, and laugh a lot, at this thoroughly original film.

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The story, although using that term defies the project’s stream-of-consciousness spirit, follows an Atlanta mayor’s abduction. Meanwhile, a black man has been shot by a racist white cop, and both the U.S. Military and the KKK are trying to retrieve the bullet that took him down for disparate reasons.

How? It involves a bizarre shrinking experiment that’s so patently silly it fits with the film’s absurdist tone.

From there, Davis concocts a comedy with nearly as many jokes as “Airplane!” Most land as intended, from sly innuendos to running gags that never wear out their welcome.

The stock and public domain footage in play likely hail from the 1950s through the early 1990s. It’s been stitched together by Davis and his creative team, at times creating a surprisingly smooth sequence of events.

The footage alone is sometimes howl-worthy. What were they thinking?

The film’s dubbed dialogue, often with flat line readings that make the punch lines funnier, sells the material. Even when the narrative appears to fly in a dozen new directions.

The KKK plays a sizable role in the story, leading to endless puns and some sly sight gags.

The film’s retro look matches its societal X-ray. It’s 2025 and race relations aren’t like the societal landmines depicted here. Not even close.

That takes the sting from some of the gags, particularly jokes tied to police brutality. The film’s wry dialogue and pop culture awareness mean all audiences can appreciate the humor, if not the cultural perspective.

A few jokes are still groaners, like a quip about Israeli forces bombing hospitals and a quick banned books aside.

“Dead, White & Blue” is pure gimmick, but the script makes sure it can sustain its feature-length running time. It’s easy to imagine this approach being replicated for a limited-run series on any number of choice topics.

The sky’s the limit when an indie filmmaker sets his or her mind to it. That’s precisely why Davis’ “Dead, White & Blue” feels like a minor revelation. And a hilarious one at that.

“Dead, White & Blue” screened at the Pittsburgh Moving Picture Festival on Oct. 4.

HiT or Miss: “Dead, White & Blue” is a fiercely original comedy culled from forgotten videos that is sure to make audiences howl.

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