From Zombos' Closet

Movie Review: Dead of Night (1945)

Zombos Says: Classic

Make me a willow cabin at your gate,
And call upon my soul within the house;
Write loyal cantons of contemned love
And sing them loud even in the dead of night;
(from William Shakespeare's Twelfth Night)

"You must be kidding," said Zombos, tossing the DVD over to me.

"No, really, it's a hoot," said Paul Hollstenwall. This time he brought along the straight to DVD movie The Blood Shed. The man has gone too far this time.

"Your average inbred, hillbilly, cannibalistic family," I read out loud from the DVD cover. "Paul, I'm not sure this is appropriate. I can't imagine watching this while sipping my hot chocolate and Sambuca. How about we start with something more apropos of the holiday season? A cozy journey into hysteria and terror by a roaring fireplace might be good. And a twist ending. There's nothing like hysteria and terror with a twist ending."

"Something with a touch of ghosts and evil spirits, I think, and British accents," added Zombos.

"Dead of Night," we both volunteered.

"Well, okay. But then will you watch The Blood Shed afterwards?" asked Paul eagerly. "It goes great with popcorn."

We grimly nodded yes. Such are the vagaries of the horror movie fan's life. Maybe I’ll have the League of Reluctant Reviewers deal with The Blood Shed. They are my go-to people for reviewing the most questionable (or is that objectionable) in horror cinema. But for now, the Dead of Night beckons.

 

It is the starched collar, stiff upper lip in the face of the irrational that gives this British horror entry an unusual cadence, which still works its devilish magic today. Mervyn Johns, the quintessential Bob Cratchit in 1951's Scrooge, plays architect Walter Craig. His modest appearance, his earnest demeanor, and his nightmare-bedeviled mind come up against the weird at a country estate where he unexpectedly meets those persons, now real flesh and blood, rattling him in his sleep. Is it déjà vu, or is something more sinister afoot?

Assembled in the living room of the country house he's come to remodel, they are, at first, surprised by his assertions of familiarity. They quickly warm up to his odd precognition, however, and eagerly describe their own brushes with the preternatural, one by one, including the pooh-poohing psychologist, who saves the most chilling encounter for last.

This sets up the movie's stories within a framing narrative, with each tale delivering a stronger jolt of the inexplicable intruding into the mundane world; culminating in a whirligig ending, with Craig smack in the thick of it, twisting back to the beginning. But the beginning is the main question he desperately puts the puzzling pieces together in search of an answer.

The caliber of acting is A movie. Michael Redgrave caps off the strong cast with his portrayal of a frazzled ventriloquist whose vent dummy won't shut up. In the last and strongest story to be told, this one by the psychologist who admits he's baffled by the encounter.

Ventriloquist Maxwell Frere no longer does all the talking in his act. When his dapper but nasty alter ego, Hugo, goes looking for a new lap to sit in, Frere goes off the very deep end and winds up bashing the dummy's face to pulp. But you just can't keep a bad dummy down in horror, so Hugo returns to run the act his way. Madness? Perhaps. But there's still an air of the weird with Hugo appearing larger than his wooden life would normally allow.

Another strong segment involves a three-panel mirror bought in an antique shop. Old, ornate, and decidedly evil in its reflections, the mirror bodes ill to the poor fellow who receives it as a birthday present from his wife. Obviously not a watcher of the Antiques Roadshow, she decides to learn the provenance of the damned thing after she buys it, much to her regret. Of course, when the shopkeeper tells her about the mirror's previous owner's misfortune, prefacing his horrifying story with his hope she's not superstitious, the chill-to-her-bone realization of what's happening to her husband sends her straight away to set matters right. This story’s mood of impending doom comes from the mirror's reflection of a sinister-looking Victorian room, and the deleterious effect it has on her husband who only sees himself standing in it even when his wife is by his side.

Separating these two tales of stark terror is a pawky romantic rivalry between two quirky golfers and their infatuation with a woman who can't decide which to marry. Loosely based on H.G. Wells' The Story of the Inexperienced Ghost, it is often criticized as the weakest of the five stories. However, it does provide an absurd humor interlude from the more serious scares. Told by the host of the country house who doesn't have a real supernatural encounter to relate—but makes one up anyway—it's an Alfred Hitchock Presents-styled twist ending involving an unwanted haunting and the need for fair play. Its whimsical nature fits in with the host's personality, and provides contrast to the overall narrative of Craig's predicament. It also provides a showcase for the British comedy duo of Basil Radford and Naunton Wayne (Charters and Caldicott in Hitchcock's The Lady Vanishes).

As each story is told, Craig and the psychiatrist argue over their true supernatural experiences. More and more, the architect becomes trapped by events playing out according to his dream, leading him to an inescapable compulsion. But what is real, and what are whispers and shadows heard and seen only in the dead of night is anyone's guess; especially Craig's.

This portmanteau movie's five segments were handled by four directors, and each story supports the main narrative of Walter Craig's nightmare dilemma. In its initial American release, the opening Yuletide ghost story and the lighter golfing interlude were cut, muddling the pacing and leaving one lodge guest without a story to tell.

This classic compendium of the macabre had a strong influence on subsequent horror movies because of its eerie moodiness and is well worth a view, especially in the dead of night.

Horror Fan Holiday Gift Guide

"This is not right at all," lamented Zombos. He exerted great effort to disentangle himself from the strings of Christmas tree lights tightly winding around him. We were engaged in putting the lights on the tree, but that didn't go as planned.

"I hear putting up a menorah is much easier," I said. "You just plug it in."

I watched in wonder as the mesmerizing, brightly-colored bulbs blinked on and off, bathing him in their warm glow. The cheery colors were comforting even while he struggled helplessly against their ever-tightening grip; the Saw torture devices were not as insidious. I sipped my Toboggon' Egg-Noggin' prepared by Chef Machiavelli, with a dash of rum and splash of lime.

"Perhaps if I unplug the main strand from the wall socket, that might help?" I volunteered. It didn't. Deep within that mess of tortuous cords was the perfect analogy for heaven, limbo and hell. Heaven was definitely your destination, but you're stuck in limbo with hell to pay before you could get there.

Feel that way with your gift-giving? Frantic now that you've wasted all year planning to shop early but didn't? Shame on you. But there's still time, you know. Here are some last minute ideas to light up the weird, scary, and fantastic-loving fan on your list.

Any fan of Weird Tales and Arkham House is familiar with Lee Brown Coye's monstrous abominations put to paper. His distorted, macabre drawings hint at the abnormal, the unsavory, and the unholy.

In Arts Unknown: The Life and Art of Lee Brown Coye, Luis Ortiz brings us into Coye's fantastic, anatomically-skewed world. This hard cover book is filled with illustrations and insights, giving us morbidly curious a long hard stare into the life and work of a man whose vision pushed well past conventional boundaries. An accomplished muralist and sculptor, Coye is fondly remembered for his vague, but suggestive black and white illustrations for Arkham House editions of Lovecraft's stories.

Ortiz describes the artist's influences, his parents, his upbringing, and his struggle to pay the bills while pursuing his artistic career. Coye's terrifying summertime experience at his grandfather's house, his strange encounter in the stick house in the woods that led to his  motif of rough sticks in many of his drawings, and his morbid sense of humor are captured for posterity, along with his art. From the Great Depression, through a world war, and at five dollars an illustration for Weird Tales, Ortiz captures Lee Brown Coye's defiance of the mundane to become an American original.

Now I know it would be narrow-minded of me to say that the '50s and '60s were a wonderful time for everyone who grew up then, but I can say with certainty that there was one wonderful part of it that anyone could share in, whatever you were: Zacherley. In Richard Scrivani's book, Goodnight, Whatever You Are!: My Journey with Zacherley, the Cool Ghoul, he reminds us of a time when monsters ruled the nascent airwaves, and Zacherley reigned as the TV horror host with the most, and flaunted it to the horror of many parents and authoritarians.

Scrivani documents Zacherle's start as Philadelphia's WCAU-TV's host, Roland, and the ghastly business-side antics that led to his eventual move to ABC-TV in New York to become the nationally known ghoulish gagster, Zacherley. With lots of photos, and a clever interview format that continues throughout the book, this look at Zacherley's rise to notoriety provides a revealing look at early television, which was a roll-up-your-sleeves time when local stations created much of their own programming and broadcast live entertainment.

You know someone from Cleveland? Well then, pick up a copy of Ghoulardi: Inside Cleveland TV's Wildest Ride by Tom Feran and Rich Heldenfels. In the 1960's , the hottest show on Cleveland's WJW late-night television was Ernie Anderson's beatnik persona, bad horror movie put-down artist extraodinaire, Ghoulardi, jiving to an internal beat that rocked audiences, especially his younger fans, with his wacky shenanigans. As horror host to some of the worst films imaginable, he warned, "this movie is so bad, you should just go to bed." But his audience didn't go to bed, and instead tuned in as he turned them on with laughs by dropping into a film's godawful scenes by superimposing himself onto the film, hamming it up with his improvisations. Anything and anyone was fair game for his outlandish antics, and making with the boom booms (fireworks) was a highlight of the show until he almost burned the studio down. Comedian Drew Carey paid tribute to Ernie Anderson's Ghoulardi by wearing a faded Ghoulardi t-shirt on his sitcom, The Drew Carey Show.

It's the explorer, the discoverer in me that enjoys reading about creepy bumps-in the-night; Vampire Universe by Jonathan Maberry and The Cryptopedia: A Dictionary of the Weird, Strange, and Downright Bizarre by Jonathan Maberry and David F. Kramer, are filled with lots of these wonderfully creepy bumps and more. 

Both books are filled with fascinating information that can be leisurely browsed through as you sit by the fire, or speedily referenced in case something horrible is rapping at your chamber door. For horror and fantasy writers, they are an essential source of inspirational material. Even if you're not a writer, any horror fan interested in well-researched information about the culturally significant supernatural beings that make up the mythology of a country will not be disappointed. To really know a people, you need to know what they're afraid of. After you read Vampire Universe, you'll be able to make an expert judgment whether to fight or flee. As for me, I'd probably just run like hell anyway; but at least I'd know what was chasing me.

Got an Aztec God problem? Need to know what an Apache Tear is? Crack open the Cryptopedia and find answers. From monsters, to gods, to New Age terrors, it's in there. Keep both books next to your copy of Dictionary of Demons by Fred Gettings, and you'll sleep more soundly at night for sure.

Nothing says you really care more to a horror fan than giving him or her those  unwholesomely gruesome terror comics from the 1950s. The EC Archives: Tales From the Crypt, Volume One reprints the first six issues of the legendary EC Comics horror title that did more to scare parents than their kids who eagerly devoured each issue before the Comics Code Authority came along to ruin the fun. Between the hard covers of this oversized book, every wart, decaying zombie, freshly dug grave, and frightened victim is back for more in vivid color, as well as each issue's striking cover and Crypt-Keeper's Corner letter section. Pair it up with The EC Archives: The Vault of Horror, Volume One, and you'll be more popular than the yule log this holiday season.

For the zombie lover on your list, the ultimate gift is The Walking Dead, Book One. This continuing story of survival horror remains a nail-biting drama as writer Robert Kirkman, and artists Tony Moore and Charlie Adlard focus on the people living a nightmare that never ends. Waking from a coma, the terror is just beginning for Rick Grimes, who must be alert every minute of every day as the zombies prowl everywhere, ready to bite down hard. Meeting survivors along the way, his struggle becomes their's, and soon it's not just the dead causing problems. The black and white illustration is gory when it needs to be, but mostly tells the growing and failing relationships between the people constantly moving to find shelter, food, and a peaceful night's sleep with straightforward style and clarity. Between zombie attacks, heated arguments, lucky chances and bad choices, The Walking Dead is a continuing series that never slackens its pace.

I know what I'll be looking for under my Christmas tree this holiday season. 

Manga: Horror Books To Read

"Are they gone yet?" asked Zombos, stretching his thin, long arm longer than he really should to reach the top of the Christmas tree. Precariously balancing the golden star of Bethlehem in one hand and the bright silver garland of hope in his other, he stood on tiptoes atop the ten-foot ladder, straining to reach the top of our vibrant green tree a scant few inches from his grasp. I suppose that's what faith is all about.

"No, not yet. They've started a bonfire on the north lawn," I said, looking out the window at the torch-wielding mob of angry holiday shoppers. They began chanting the same thing over and over again.

"What is that? What are they saying?"

"Give us more, give us more, give us more, and something about a dreidel," I told Zombos. "I think they want more gift ideas for the horror fans on their shopping list."

"Well, then, what are you waiting for? If they want more, give it to them."

"Alright, then. Manga will make them merry," I said, and got down to business.

Japanese horror manga, while similar to our comic book format, has been around for centuries. Heavily influenced in the past few decades by the atrocities of a world war, status competition, familial disaffection, and American culture, it's illustrations and storylines can be grotesque and arabesque, or comically naughty, or a mix of all three with a dash of irony.

In no other manga series is the grotesque and arabesque displayed so poetically than in Junji Ito's Lovecraftian-styled confection of spiraling, out of control horror, Uzumaki, Volumes 1, 2 and 3. Combining absurdity, whimsy, terror and alienation in three volumes, it stands out as one of the most entertainingly creepy and original series of manga stories currently available.

The town of Kurozu-cho is beset by spirals spinning out of control into the psyches and lives of the townspeople, bringing madness, other-worldly change, and twirling, gruesome death. Whence the spirals came, and how the town is slowly being driven to destruction, is a reading experience not to be missed. Uzumaki was turned into an equally disquieting film in 2000.

High school student Kirie Goshima is witness to the ever widening madness and physical change that affects her classmates and the town's buildings. In these pages you will find a heady blend of black and white illustration and bizarre events best read with all the lights on. In Ito's manga universe, the natural laws of physics and biology warp into chaos, transforming the lives of his ordinary characters, inch by inch, until their existence becomes the horror.

Ito has a fetish for beautiful, long-haired high school girls, and in Museum of Terror : Tomie, Volumes 1 and 2, he unleashes from his morbid mind his most beguiling black-haired beauty to terrorize her unending succession of admirers. It wouldn't be so bad if they would just stop murdering her and cutting her up into bloody chunks. She doesn't really seem to mind, however, because she keeps coming back. Again and again, she grows from a bit here and there back into her beautiful, long-haired, beguiling self, driving the men in her "lives" to obsession and murder. Again and again. She has a nasty habit of leaving them worse for wear, too. Given such a clever, natural plot-thread for sequelization possibilities, it's no wonder Tomie was turned into a series of films.

In Museum of Terror: The Long Hair in the Attic, Ito turns his fancy to another long-haired beauty named Chiemi. When she returns home with a broken heart, rats in the attic take a liking to her. Actually, to her hair more than her, but what's a girl to do? Before she can cut it into a shorter doo, her hair has other plans. This title story is just one of many that places high-school girls and boys in various predicaments of terror.

Where Junji Ito's normal characters suffer from peer relationships gone sour, bullying, and the pressures of attaining social status or losing it, Hideshi Hino creates dysfunctional families that are like the Addams Family in the bizarro world. It's just his families have no redeeming values whatsoever.

Hino said it was after reading Ray Bradbury's The Illustrated Man that he felt the need to combine horror with a sense of fairy tale. This led him to mix monstrous birth defects, other-worldly transmogrifications, and hideously deformed characters with Japanese folktales, producing uniquely unsettling, culture-transcending stories. His characters are often trapped in a mad world of disease, insanity, and demons, and none of his characters ever start off normal.

In his Lullabies From Hell collection of stories, he draws himself as the young narrator in A Lullaby From Hell, introducing himself as a mangaka (manga author) who is obsessed with terrible, unmentioned things peeking just above the surface of normalcy. Soon, as things both living and dead bleed into his manga mind, he collects their rotting parts in big glass jars so he can stare in admiration at them for hours on end, while dreaming of monsters and demons from hell that would, at his bidding, devour and torture people--especially those that abuse him. Needless to say, reading Hideshi Hino requires a strong stomach and a sense of black humor. His stories are like crushing a mucous-filled bug on your arm: an icky, but oddly exhilarating feeling at the same time.

In Zoroku, the hapless title character yearns to draw colorful pictures, but evil villagers make fun of him... and his condition. It seems that a little rash has turned to a boil, and a boil to many, and many to something much, much worse. Poor Zoroku becomes covered with a "colorful purulence," and the villagers and their children drive him away to solitude, deep into the forest by a strange lake. Unfortunately for him, the purulence gives off an odor that would curl paint, and his boils ooze so badly, maggots infest them in the hundreds. The story does have a happy ending, though, sort of.

Any hardcore horror fan would love a copy of Lullabies and his Hino Horror 1: The Red Snake. Here, the younger member of a truly unsavory family is trapped by a dark forest that never lets him leave, and a house that contains an ancient mirror, behind which lies a maze of long corridors filled with demons from hell. And you thought the commute to work was bad. Grandma thinks she's a chicken and lives in a nest of twigs, Grandpa has puss-filled warts that he likes having squeezed, and dad collects bugs, lots of bugs. All hell breaks loose when a crack in the mirror lets the demons out. Just make sure you don't eat before reading this one.

No manga library would be complete without the engrossing The Drifting Classroom, Volumes 1-11, by Kazuo Umezu (also made into a 1987 film). Sho has a fight with his mom, and when both wish the other would never come back, the universe obliges them. Unfortunately for Sho's classmates and teachers, the universe includes the entire Yamato Elementary School along with him. What follows is something like Stephen King's The Mist, but with kids.

In Volume 1, the realization of what happened slowly sinks in and the hunt for food begins. Sho takes the leadership role as the struggle to survive against the desolate world they find themselves in butts up against the growing panic quickly setting in, pitting kid against kid and teacher against teacher. Be warned: kids and teachers drop like flies in this manga. While there is little gory illustration, Umezu keeps constant tension going from panel to panel, and the frying relationships between everyone moves the story at a fever pitch. There is a real sense of horror here as estrangement from their normal life and parents leaves the kids in shock and disbelief, and the teachers without a clue as to what to do.

In subsequent volumes, more about the world they find themselves is learned, but food and water is running out, teachers are in despair and committing suicide, or murder, and the lunch guy everyone loved turns into the nastiest SOB in the school--with a gun. Then Umezu tosses in carnivorous monsters, insane adults, and a mother's love that overcomes time and space to save her son. He also makes sure the school's only 230 IQ geek explains exactly what happened. Once you start reading, you won't be able to put it down, so if you buy this as a gift, I beg you, don't open the covers--or just order doubles to play safe.

Remember that manga is usually presented in the Japanese format. While it's translated into English, you start reading from the back of the book, right page first, then left page. And on each page, read the panels from right to left, too. It takes a little getting used to, but you'll catch on quick. I invite readers to add their recommendations for other great manga gifts in the comments section.

Holiday Horror Fan Gift Guide

No, no, no,
No, no, no,
Hell no all the way,
Oh what horror it is to get a tacky gift today, hey!

Are the ghosts of bad Christmas presents past haunting you? Is the dread of finding a delightfully thoughtful gift, instead of another frightfully awful one, dancing madly in your head instead of sugar plums? Why chance disappointing someone again with more of those darn Fandango movie gift tickets that say, "I gave up! Didn't have a clue!" Any one of these stocking-stuffers will electrify any horror fan more than the Frankenstein monster, and show them you really care.

In his book, Sundays with Vlad: From Pennsylvania to Transylvania, One Man's Quest to Live in the World of the Undead, journalist Paul Bibeau packs his lifelong fascination with vampires into his Gladstone bag and heads for the hills of Transylvania to find the true Dracula. What he finds along the way is hilarious, delirious, and never disingenuous. From the foothills of the Carpathians, to the wild woods of New Jersey and the wide aisles of Wal-Mart, his search for the real Dracula will leave you wishing you were along for the ride. Along the way you will meet Bela Lugosi Jr., fighting to protect his famous father's rights of publicity, enter the Goth world of eternal night, with or without fangs, and trip the light fantasy with LARPers, those cheeky-geeky live action role playing savants we all publicly deride, but secretly yearn to be.