Zombos’ Closet…a vast trove of endearingly cheap thrills, including movie and book reviews, and scans of his collections of cinema pressbooks, goofy paper-cutout Halloween decorations, and his amazing collection of Mexican lobby cards from B-grade films. If you have time to descend into a serious rabbit-hole of marvelous trash-culture nostalgia, visit that site just as soon as you possibly can.” (DangerousMinds.net)
Partly Lovecraftian, partly folk horror, there is a terror permeating the upstairs floor at The House at Black Tooth Pond and throughout the forest surrounding it. A horribly mutilated body covered in some sort of transparent gel, “like wet shellac,” kicks the horror in gear, bringing together Sheriff Gordon Parrot and coroner Melissa Crawford (looking like “a fourteen-year-old kid”) to the threshold of something quite nasty and relentless.
The Pritchett brothers take the brunt of the nasty, however, and their walks through that forest lead them further into the mystery, but more on the receiving end than the investigative one. As detectives they fall short, but their roles as victims lean toward the terminal side as they succumb to hallucinations and actions not best suited for survival. But they were not the first, and clearly, will not be the last, so expect another novel to move this terror along to flesh out the whatsis and, hopefully, how to kill it: and, on that point, rather carefully, Rainey leaves us on a suspenseful note, making you wish he writes the story’s continuance quickly.
He likes to spin tales best suited for campfires and dead of nights, so this one naturally gives credence to the small Virginian town of Sylvan County’s shady history, where his usual geographic haunts and creatures fuel the local gossip and tall tales. There is even a local folklore expert to assist the Sherif along his investigation: beginning with the Yck, which, as Professor Shelton Scales relates, originated with the Algonquin Indians. Sort of like the Wendigo, it incessantly hungers. Given the weirdness of the case, the Sherif begins to believe in the weird to find the answers, so he starts thinking maybe those tales of the Fugue Devil and assorted baddies are not all superstitious tall tale nonsense after all.
The stomping ground of the badness this time is Black Tooth Pond, the place where “despite a low breeze, the air carried no sound—no bird songs, no rustling of squirrels or other small animals” and where the sunlight’s “brilliant rays never filtered all the way down through the overhanging branches.”
Rainey’s characters’ dialogs, relationships, and positionings in his stories are always on target for moving the story along, pacing the plot, and, most importantly, creating that small town, hidden secrets, environment naturally. You also feel for every character caught in his cosmic web of Black Tooth Pond’s nefarious entity, so much so, you may find yourself wondering “you idiot!” or “okay, you’re smart, what are you going to do about it?”
Every cosmic baddie needs a home and Rainey dresses up a dilapidated homestead, situated deep in the forest of Black Tooth Pond, where the brothers discover a newly revealed pathway leading to it. A monstrous magnolia tree stands as sentinel in front of the Caviness family’s abandoned home, where a sycamore tree has taken root within, shooting its branches up to and through the ruptured roof. The upstairs is dark and brooding and best to leave alone (the darkness and those stairs look foreboding). But something calls to them and an unsettling whippoorwill’s cry is heard at the oddest times, increasing their sense of a dangerous presence in the dark. Old news clippings of dire and catastrophic events are found, piled up on the coffee table, sent in letters to the Caviness family, whose fate and background are lost in time. When Martin starts seeing “shadows of human beings— smoky, insubstantial— wavering before a nebulous, electric-blue backdrop” he begins to question his sanity, and worse, fear he is sane.
Moments of suspenseful dread are experienced by both the sheriff and the brothers independently, as their two lines of inquiry bring them closer and closer to the evil in the house, across the forest, and maybe even into the town. Whatever lurks, it had done so for a long time, and it was something the earlier locals had tried to destroy with fire. Making matters worse and weirder, the writer of those letters, filled with awfully bad news, sent to the Caviness family many years ago, shows up, moving hell a little bit closer for everyone involved.
The House at Black Tooth Pond is filled with keep-turning-those-pages suspenseful chapters. The other chapters carefully build the mystery, wrapped in layers both the sheriff, his coroner, and Martin and Phil try to unravel, which also keeps you turning those pages. Rainey is one of a handful of writers who can give you the supernatural, the cosmic, and the eldritch terror in carefully measured doses that intoxicate you their simple cleverness and their absolute dread. Lovecraft would be proud. So keep the lights on while you read, even if you are on a Kindle. You may just start hallucinating something bad in the dark, just out of reach, but some thing definitely reaching for you.
I wrote this review for The Horror Zine.
Hello, My Children –
I’ve been sitting here going through Cousin Estil’s footlocker, uncovering many treasures from the golden age of radio, especially the Top Forty era when all of us teenagers had our ears tuned to our transistor radios jammin’ to the latest hits from the local Top Forty Survey. It was a magical time and we each had our favorite artists and groups. Mine were Ricky Nelson, The Four Seasons, some guy named Elvis, Ral Donner, The Tornados, The Beatles, and The Dave Clark Five. Cousin Estil had saved many hits by these and others in the footlocker, as well as old 78s, commercials and radio copy. As I told you last time he also saved some radio spot records from movies he liked, I guess.
The first one of his I have chosen to highlight is actually one of my favorites, as well. It’s from 1959 and is called The Angry Red Planet. It was written by Sid Pink and directed by Ib Melchior.
I remember seeing this in the theater in early June, 1960, and was enthralled by it. It was filmed in a process called Cinemagic and I was impressed! It really made you feel like you were on the Red Planet. It had nightmarish Martian creatures and a cool Martian, too! The creepy music and sound effects gave it an alien atmosphere. I thought it was neat!
Ah, Cinemagic, a process discovered quite by accident. When it was decided to change filming from color to black and white to save money, a reel that was shot was accidentally mis-developed, either by an errant exposure to light or through a chemical mix-up. When viewed, the negative film took on a solarised effect where parts were in the negative and parts were positive. Shadows became white, and various elements shifted and glowed. The look appealed to producer Norman Maurer (The Three Stooges’ Moe Howard’s son-in-law) and director Melchior, and they decided it gave the perfect look to scenes shot on Mars, especially if the film were dyed red. It also would help disguise the cheaply-made studio sets. So, it was decided to shoot the non-Martian scenes in color and intercut the two.
Despite working with a restricted budget and a nine day shooting schedule, the producers came up with some creative visuals using rear projection with effective miniatures, a full-scale claw of the Ratbatspidercrab monster, an eerie amoeba monster, clever artwork for distant scenery and half mile-high Martian buildings, and a horrifying costume for the giant Martian. Everything looks so other-worldly that it is difficult to not get caught up in the reality of it all. I find it interesting that the on-set vegetation pieces and some of the flowers were actually real props, built and painted to look like they were drawn figures which blended in perfectly with the artwork used as backgrounds. Even the wonderful amoeba model, which was constructed so it could be manipulated to look like it was breathing, was painted to look like a drawing. The special effects and visual effects technicians as well as the set designers are to be commended for their work.
The cast is good with Les Tremayne adding his expertise and great voice to the proceedings, and blue-eyed Nora Hayden adding the feminine pulchritude. Gerald Mohr and Jack Kruschen are the strong alpha types taking leadership roles. The scene where Kruschen’s character gets absorbed by the giant amoeba is chilling.
I watched The Angry Red Planet the other night and was still impressed by it all. I thought it was atmospheric and well done. I was somewhat surprised to see that American International’s publicity department released only two radio spots for it – a sixty and a thirty. There was so much more they could’ve done if they would have had sufficient money in the marketing budget.
So, from Cousin Estil’s footlocker of forgotten treasures, join me as we venture to The Angry Red Planet!
Zombos’ Says: Will probably increase sales of those ugly little noise bangers for scary pranks. Or cause many to be thrown out, just in case. That popcorn bucket looks pretty awesome for collectors, too. This cheeky absurd horror is not a monkey’s uncle.
Osgood Perkins creates nasty little cinema-goodies that match the mental image you get just saying his name. That’s a good thing. He has a cheeky knack for horomedy that makes the kills in Final Destination look amateurish. So while we watch with our mouths open in shock (and mirth!), The Monkey does something one better: it brings a sense of Greek Theater to the story of two brothers, doomed if they do and doomed if they don’t. With help from Stephen King, of course; but, creating the visuals and dramedy elements (yeah, turn that key if you hate these labels), with a tongue-in-cheek glee for terminal eviscerations, does take skill (or a Looney Tunes’ serial killer’s mindset). His pacing is just right; that really creepy large mechanical monkey is perfectly frightening and threatening with its arm raising, drumstick twirling, suspense moving to bloody turmoil panache that does have a rat-tat-tat, glad it’s not me getting skewered, chopped or minced, beat to it.
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You can thank the Spaghetti Westerns (1960s and 1970s) for the movies and streaming series that took the wholesomeness of early cowboys roaming the range (with happy songs, a chaste behavior under those big hats, and their trick horses), and made them all gritty, grimy, and bristling with beardy machismo and sweaty violence. So when you cringe at the uncivilized behaviors and dirty faces in American Primeval, don’t forget to blame Italy for moving the genre into a blood-running prone, over-realism that gave Clint Eastwood his big break.
God Forgives…I Don’t from Italy, courtesy of AIP, involves the script staples of a train robbery and stolen gold. Mayhem follows. Not quite at the level of Sergio Leone, but still an enjoyable dusty romp. The pressbook highlights the “exotic beauty” of Gina Rovere and how the western reflects American folklore. The poster art is quite a beauty too.
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From Paul at It Came From Hollywood: “Beyond bizarre offering from Albert Zugsmith. His name may trip a memory or two as he produced The Incredible Shrinking Man (1957), Orson Welle’s Touch of Evil, and High School Confidential, both in 1958 and Confessions of an Opium Eater (1962). Zugsmith’s filmography is studied today in College film courses because he invented, improved upon, and re-created an entire genre of film that defies explanation and, often, logic.
“Films like Sex Kittens Go to College (1960), Platinum High School, also 1960, and Russ Meyer’s Fanny Hill (1964) defined what Albert Zugsmith was about. On Her Bed of Roses reflects none of those films; instead, it dives into Charles Whitman territory with sprinkles of rose fetishism kink. Something I believe Zugsmith held dear to his heart, witness Two Roses and a Golden Rod (1969.) It is a piece of Hollywood history. On Her Bed of Roses is not for the meek (or weak) of heart. Still, everyone can appreciate the pressbook and its over-the-top ballyhoo of a film that is, in itself, over-the-top!” …
Such Interesting Stuff in my inbox…
Universal City, Calif., March 5, 2025 – On June 20, 1975, Steven Spielberg’s Jaws was unleashed by Universal Pictures, quickly becoming a cultural phenomenon. Now, 50 years later, the film remains one of the most influential and gripping adventures in motion picture history. To mark this milestone, a nearly year-long celebration has kicked off through a theatrical re-release, an anniversary edition on Digital and Blu-ray, summer streaming on Peacock of the film, all-new merchandise in various categories and much more — including the upcoming Jaws: The Exhibition, planned by the Academy Museum. The most epic summer blockbuster is back and bigger than ever!
As announced during the 97th Oscars telecast this past weekend, the Academy Museum of Motion Pictures will debut Jaws: The Exhibition on view beginning September 14, with tickets available now. The Academy Museum exhibition, the first ever of this size dedicated to a specific film, celebrates the Academy’s largest collection object—the sole surviving shark from Jaws —and is timed to the film’s landmark anniversary. Visitors will step into the world of the iconic film, scene-by-scene, as it translates the movie into a spatial experience with over 200 original objects including concept illustrations, costumes and props. To top it off, exclusive new merchandise will be available in the Academy Museum Store celebrating the legacy of the film. …
The Spider Returns 15-chapter serial brings the pulp hero, The Spider, to the big screen for a second time. This sequel to 1938’s The Spiders Web, is a bit more tongue-in-cheek with the usual fisticuffs and mayhem delivered by the Gargoyle, another crimelord with Fifth Column connections, with his usual assortment of ruffians to do his bidding. The movies embellished on The Spider’s (played by Warren Hull) wardrobe by giving him a spiderweb pattern across his cape and head disguise. Otherwise, he’d be the spitting image of The Shadow, another popular pulp hero dressed all in black, who hit the movies starting in 1941. It is interesting to note the Newspaper Slants – School Tips page suggests contacting schools to hype the movie.
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While heading in to see Companion, I saw these standees at my local AMC. I also saw they now highlight promotional popcorn buckets in the glass showcase at the concession stand. I confess I can’t resist collecting them. If I had the room, I’d collect the standees too 🙂 I’m dying to see the one for the Fantastic Four. The initial trailer hints they finally got Galactus right. Not too thrilled about their choice for Silver Surfer though, but we’ll see. Changing Jack Kirby’s designs is a Bozo No-No for me, nuff said. I was puzzled by the small size of the Dog Man standee until I realized it’s a kid’s movie, so a kid-sized standee provided a good photo op. However, it did get dwarfed by the the much larger standees I walked past, especially the Snow White live-action one with the dwarves holding up a billboard of the Queen and Snow looking very movie-ish, while only those dwarfish legs showed underneath. Clever. As for me, though, the animated original is a classic that can’t be repeated, but I hope the live-action does well and pleases new audiences. I just hope they don’t forget the original.
Zombos’ Closet says very good. With or without the subtextual themes, the movie is a fast-paced horror that twists and turns.
Companion firmly places any and all subtext to the background (yeah, right, just bear with me for a moment here), and pushes both robots and humans front and center, in a firmly, awkwardly, and then deadly series of tilting dominos for greet, eat, scheme, love, hate, and death. The deaths line up through a black comedy of errors, missed purposes, and clumsiness, nudging you with subtext without upstaging the horror. So in the background it stays while we get to enjoy a fast-paced comedy of terminal errors. Companion lines up its victims on both sides, leaving us wondering how something we secretly desire to happen in real life can be such a downer given human, and soon-to-worry-about, robotic natures. As for the subtexts, best you figure them out for yourself because you don’t need to figure them out for the movie to enjoy it. They are just the icing on this bloody confection.
Iris (Sophie Thatcher) and Josh (Jack Quaid), drive up to a well secluded lake house as guests, joining Kat (Megan Suri), Eli (Harvey Guillen), Patrick (Lucas Gage), and Sergey (Rupert Friend). Kat and Sergey are an item, along with Eli and Patrick, so this makes three couples planning on enjoying a quiet and fun get-together at the rich Sergey’s hide-away. They dine, they dance, then they start dying. This is a horror movie after all, so director and writer Drew Hancock moves quickly to set up the tear downs. Not all is what it seems as relationships loosen and get confused. Making matters worse is Josh’s illegal modding of software (doing your own custom programming changes that can void the warranty, etc.) on Iris, his rented boy-toy. Using his smartphone app to adjust just about anything in her robotic functions, control of her becomes part of the deadly play to follow. Even Iris finds it amusing, and useful, once she can get her hands on it.
That modding leads to the first casualty. With one person down, and the cops slowly…very slowly…heading to the lake house, events continue to spiral out of control even after Josh commands Iris to sleep. Now he’s worried about his illegal tampering of her functions, but he’s hiding a secret that worries him even more. At this point you may notice the early coloration, saturation, and tonal balance of the more copacetic opening scenes, including a cute flashback narrative opener, changes to a darker, more gritty hue and depth. Forbes ran an instructive article on how Vanessa Porter costumed both humans and robots in the movie, adding to the subtextual nature of the robot in action in subtle ways. For instance, the blood soaking Iris wears so well, is very different than the usual splattering. Her clothes are also doll-like to begin with and remain neat to a fault, even when dirty and blood soaked. There is also a 1950s Florida postcard look and feel to her clothes and headband and the early scenes.
At times, the upper hand goes to Josh, then Iris, then back to Josh, then over to somebody else, then back to Iris, then, on and on, like a game of hot potato. Jack Quaid twists Josh through a 360 so well, he is disarmingly bad with puppy dog eyes, but his practical and greedy hubris eventually works against him. Sophie Thatcher’s Iris simply is innocent at first but learns from her mistakes how to become guilty, and how to take control, deal with losing it, then taking it back.
Speaking of that hot potato, most fun of all is the MacGuffin, which is just a fancy name for something that keeps the plot moving around it. Once the secret is revealed, it rewires Kat, Eli, Patrick, and Iris in different ways as two of them become aware of it, then motivated by it, adding to the terror and fun, and wild sudden outcomes as everything moves from plan to new plan to revised new plan. What started as a pleasant get-away to lounge in and around a beautiful large house nestled by a pristene, quiet, lake in first appearance, turns into a slug-fest and fight for survival. The essence of great horror. And the script doesn’t get in the way of that by, instead, focusing on the characters and their bad decisions, twisting our perceptions into knots and making us cheer and boo for everyone as the robots become more human and the humans become more robotic in their cores.
The future is robots, AI, and humans, but, as Companion makes clear, it is the human part that may need the most modding.
Kubrick shot mostly on location in real houses and apartments, so “only four sets were builit in a small factory: the Korova Milk Bar, the Prison Check-in, the Writer’s Bathroom, and the Entrance Hall to the writer’s house. He chose locations by looking through British architectural magazines. The movie was controversial for its time, but today would seem tame given our manic society of late. It still resonates with themes that remain relevant (which, sadly to say, makes us still stuck in that same loop). See The Film Sets and Furniture of Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange: A Real Horror Show at the Film and Furniture website (right, I didn’t know about it either). Also check out Cinephilia Beyond’s A Clockwork Orange: Kubrick and Burgess’ Vision of the Modern World.
Comic reader version: Download A Clockwork Orange Pressbook
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Greetings, Lovers of Radio Spots and all things collectible.
I hope this week’s installment finds you doing well.
This year has gotten off to a bittersweet start for me. My very distant cousin, Estil Yancey, passed away early last week, and, since I was the only surviving relative, I was called on to help put his final things in order. He was 104 years old and I didn’t know him that well, having only seen him a few times in my life. He lived over in Possum Hollow so it was quite a ways away.
I grabbed Uncle Oscar and we made the three-hour journey over to the funeral home to make final arrangements. We met with his lawyer and the funeral director, a gaunt-looking fellow named Phineas Grimm. He looked so nice, so natural. He showed us Cousin Estil’s insurance policy and I couldn’t believe all the extra charges the funeral home had tacked on. These places really make a killing! I had to come up with an extra $100 to cover the overages. Uncle Oscar and I made plans to pick up Cousin Estil’s body in two days for interment in Witchwood Cemetery. We planned to have a simple memorial service before he was laid to rest. Uncle Oscar said he would handle everything. It was a serious undertaking.
The lawyer told me that I was the sole heir of Cousin Estil’s estate and that everything in and including his house was mine. He told me that Estil had been in poor health for most of last year, but he was still bright and alert. For some time he had volunteered in the geriatric ward at the local hospital because “he wanted to help the old people.” I told him I had no use for the house and he said he would take care of getting it listed on the market.
Before we left to go to the house, Uncle Oscar and I got to see Cousin Estil. Poor old critter. He was skin and bones. The lawyer told us that neighbors had helped bring him food and that nurses had checked on him everyday at the end. It was a grave situation. One day he fell and broke his hip, was taken to the hospital, and died of pneumonia a few days later.
Cousin Estil’s house was a modest little cottage with few things. After we saw what was there I decided to give his possessions to Goodwill. However, we did find a large footlocker in his bedroom which contained a treasure trove of valuable memorabilia. For much of his life Cousin Estil had worked in radio, serving as a DJ, a program manager, and in management. We found stacks of old 78 rpm records from artists like Kay Kyser, Glenn Miller, Perry Como, Dean Martin and others, as well as 45s and LPs from the rock-and-roll era. We also found old transcription disks of vintage commercials, lots of scripts and copy, and, believe it or not, a few radio spot records.
Uncle Oscar and I loaded up his things, dropped off most at the Goodwill and headed home. I spent a few hours that night going through the footlocker, reliving the past and playing some of my favorite Kay Kyser songs.
The radio spots were priceless and you’ll hear them over the next few weeks. Since I remember Cousin Estil being a fitness buff and in the prime of life back when I knew him, I decided to choose a sword-and-sandal double feature to honor him in this week’s installment.
So, from early Spring, 1964, listen as Paul Frees tells us about the American International combo Goliath and the Sins of Babylon, with Mark Forest, and Samson and the Slave Queen, with Alan Steel. Thank you, Cousin Estil, for having the foresight to save this and the others for me to share on my site all these years later. Rest In Peace, and may “the hits just keep on comin.”
Edmund Lowe starred in Chandu the Magician (1932), against Bela Lugosi’s evil villain, Roxor. In 1934, Lugosi took over as Chandu in the 12 chapter serial, The Return of Chandu, while Lowe starred in Bombay Mail. Although set in Bombay, it was actually filmed on various sets that included several railway stations and a studio-built Imperial Indian Mail train. Lowe learned his trade in vaudeville and silent films. Although the quintessential Hollywood leading man at that time, as he grew older Hollywood relegated him to Poverty Row productions.
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