From Zombos' Closet

Movie Review: Sweeney Todd The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007)

Zombos Says: Excellent

The best horror film of 2007 is a musical about an unkempt barber who gives nasty-close shaves and an unkempt woman who bakes meaty pies with lots of heart (and other body parts), plying their trades in an unkempt 19th century London  gorging happily on its Industrial Age.

And, yes, there is blood. Hammer horror bright, fire-engine red, hissing through the air like steam from a boiling teapot, or pooling on the floorboards like piss from a mangy dog. Mingling with the hiss and the puddles are songs; vindictive and forlorn, and sung deeply from the throat of damnation, crying out for vengeance through the unkempt, morose alleyways and lawless byways of Fleet Street, home to the courts, the barristers, and Judge Turpin.

Judge Turpin (Alan Rickman) is unkempt in body and soul. He covets Benjamin Barker's wife. The lecherous cur has Barker imprisoned on false charges, rapes his wife, steals his infant daughter, and becomes the object of vengeance that consumes Barker, now calling himself Sweeney Todd, who returns fifteen years later to his decrepit flat above Mrs. Lovett's (Helena Bonham Carter) failing pie shop. Mrs. Lovett covets Sweeney--always has--even as Sweeney covets his glistening silver set of  straight razors. All these Grand Guignol ingredients whip together in Tim Burton's mighty tasty version of this Gothic and gory folie à deux, which leaves out any whimsy to be found in the stage version. 

The Stephen Sondheim musical, in Burton's hands, becomes an unrelentingly dark tale of deliverance to sin for some, and the loss of innocence for others. This is Saucy Jack's London; an oily smudge from endless smokestacks coats everything, and daylight barely filters through the grime. The only bright spots to appear in this otherwise gloomy environment are the splotches of red spraying from severed necks, and there are lots of them--both severed necks and splotches.

Promptly taking care of Signor Pirelli's blackmail attempt, the necessity for getting rid of the foppish con man's ample frame leads to a mutually satisfying business agreement between Todd and Mrs. Lovett, and sets both on their merry way to hell in the bargain.

With a shock of white in his hair to show how much his soul has lost, Johnny Depp's Sweeney Todd is the perfect instrument for wielding death. In John Logan's screenplay and Christopher Bond's musical adaptation, not a hint of remorse nor glint of redemption show in Todd's ashen face or in his words as bodies follow one another down the chute to the oven room below.

Burton dotes on a long, disquieting interlude of song and blood with Sweeney slashing necks and slack bodies dropping effortlessly. The absurd blood-letting lulls you into a comforting sense of surrealism until the jarring thwacks of his victims, with limbs akimbo and brains splattered, hit the hard cellar floor with a smack.

Burton skillfully uses the advantages of camera and angle here, increasing the horror of the deed by bringing us closer to it than the stage play ever could; we see the terror-filled expressions of disbelief on his victims' faces as the razor slices deeply through skin and artery, and we cringe as their bodies are unceremoniously dispatched. It is a moment of sublime terror rarely captured in a horror film, let alone any musical I know of, so let this be a nightmare warning to those of you prone to such things.

While Sweeney Todd sinks deeper into the abyss, young Anthony Hope (Jamie Campbell Bower with a bit of Goth about him), happens upon Johanna--Todd's daughter, now the beautiful prisoner of Judge Turpin--as she looks out her bedroom window. Hope and Todd arrived on the same ship into London, one filled with innocence and expectation, the other with experience and hatred. Parting ways as they disembarked, their paths meet up again as Hope runs afoul of Judge Turpin and his bully-boy, Beadle Bamford. More wicked than the beadle Mr. Bumford in Oliver Twist, Timothy Spall's repugnant, ratty Bamford, with his extendable and lethal walking stick, exudes all the grimy detritus around him with malicious glee. It's an unsavory performance to be savored.

But the machineries of young love and seething hatred will not be stopped. As Hope seeks to rescue Johanna from the clutches of Judge Turpin and Beadle Bamford, Todd's hatred consumes him, turning his singular revenge plans for Judge Turpin into a plurality. Aided by Mrs. Lovett, reaping the burgeoning profits from his modus operandi, the madness begins in earnest. Soon her pie shop is buzzing with eager patrons munching away on their fellow Londoners.

Toby, the street urchin formerly in Pirelli's abusive charge, unwittingly helps serve up the meat pies until a thumb winds up in a most unexpected place and he realizes what the huge meat grinder in the cellar is really used for. His dashed hope of finding a home with Mrs. Lovett is not the greatest tragedy in this story of loss and no redemption. More tragedy awaits as another unpleasant discovery is made and more blood is spilled.

Oh, yes, there will be blood. In the ending of Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd, there will be much, much more.

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.

Comic Book Review: Papercutz Tales From the Crypt 3

zomboscloset It's black Thursday here at the mansion and no shopping in sight. Thanksgiving dinner was going well until Frederico Frunken started reminiscing over his paprika hendl. Cousin Cleftus popped his monocle across the table and angrily waved a drumstick at Frederico. You can take the man out of politics, but you can't take politics out of the man. I really should be writing up some reviews. I'm running behind as usual. 03:00 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

cryptkeeper1950 @zomboscloset: Speaking of reviews, Zoc, Papercutz' Tales From the Crypt issue 3 is out. You've been kind of slipshod on the last two issue's reviews, so maybe you could put more focus on this one and be more serious? 03:05 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

zomboscloset @cryptkeeper1950: Not you again. Stop bothering me. I'll get to it when I get to it. Oh, damn, Cousin Cleftus just threw the drumstick at Frederico. Thank god Zombos's head was in the way. Lord, not the cranberry sauce, too! I've got to go! 03:07 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

cryptkeeper1950 @zomboscloset: All I'm saying is if you're goin' to be a serious reviewer you really need to stop playing around and get serious. Look at me: I'm dead, but I'm still serious. That's commitment. Even if Papercutz' insists on watering me down into a few slapstick chuckles for their 'tweener audience. I feel your pain, but unfortunately I'm stuck with Salicrup as editor. 03:08 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

zomboscloset @cryptkeeper1950: Finally, everyone is calmed down and enjoying Chef Machiavelli's scrumptiuous desserts. Speaking of just deserts, I will say Stefan Petrucha's story, "Slabbed," captures a bit of the old comeuppance magic. The story has a great balance between art and script, and it's always fun to see a bully get his due. Don Hudson's more traditional superhero-art style works quite well here.Nice to get away from that Archie comics, manga style that stifles the series. I would have liked to see more embellishment in the artwork, especially the backgrounds, though. Every story in each issue always looks like it's being rushed, especially when you consider the great talent involved. 03:12 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

cryptkeeper1950 @zomboscloset: Yeah, we snuck that one past Salicrup when he was on vacation. What did you think of A Murderin' Idol? 03:14 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

zomboscloset @cryptkeeper1950: Predictable story: wannabe rock star finds primordial book of spells to conjure pint-sized demon requiring human sacrifices to grant bigger and bigger wishes. Not really all that bad, but Todd needed to add zest into his dialog and setups. I mean, Slymon Bowel? I suppose a younger audience might find that witty. A comic take on American Idol needs more panache than potty-named monikers.As for the art, I expected Betty and Veronica to pop-up in a panel any moment. Mannion does a nice job with the panel movement, but there's that rushed, two-dot nose and eyes look butting up against the borders on every page again. The chunky demon works; mean, yet still funny in appearance. And the coloring in each panel is super across both stories, but I think Rick Parker would have been a better choice to draw that one.  He's doing a great job with the ghoulunatics sequences.Even Salicrup is writing better lead-ins to each story; but those puns are torture. 03:17 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

cryptkeeper1950 @zomboscloset: You're preachin' to the choir there, my friend. You'd never guess I went to Harvard with him writing my lines. 03:18 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

billythepupfromsaw @zomboscloset: What's real torture, Zoc, is you not reviewing Saw IV. I'm very disappointed in you. You have failed to live up to your own self-worth. I must teach you the value of being a reviewer. Maybe by poking your eyes out with rusted springs you will come to appreciate how you've left your own readers sightless by not reviewing my never-ending, bloody torture franchise. McDonald's didn't put me in their Happy Meals because of you, Zoc. They were going to put your review on the side of the paper bag, along with a shot of me stretching Ronald McDonald's feet even bigger than they are now. But no. No Zoc review, no cute little Billy the Puppet happy meal. No colorful torture toys for little girls and boys because you couldn't live up to your potential. I'm very, very, very disappointed in you. 03:19 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

zomboscloset@billythepupfromsaw: Bite me, sawdust! Nobody's got a hand up my butt telling me what to do or say. I review what I want, when I want. 03:21 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

cryptkeeper1950 @zomboscloset, @billythepupfromsaw: Say, wait a minute: we could do a gag in issue 4 with me pedaling around on a tricycle with red targets painted on my face.  Damn, I've got to call Salicrup! He'll love it. We could call me Billy Baloney and--damn, I think Pee Wee Herman  used that one. Say, wait a minute: I could dress up like Pee Wee Herman with targets on my face doing a parody of Billy the Puppet doing a parody of Saw IV, and--dialing Salicrup now, gotta go! 03:22 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

jerrymahoneytime @zomboscloset: Technically speaking, the hand is up the back. Can we keep it clean here folks. I see no reason to start flaming each other. 03:23 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

archiesgirlveronica @zomboscloset: Just what did you mean by your statement above, Zoc? Betty and I wouldn't be seen dead in a horror comic. Well, maybe dead, but, say, we could be zombies! I always thought Jughead would make a great zombie. Archie is too uptight for that kind of stuff. Ooh, dialing Jughead now! Seeya. 03:26 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

cryptkeeper1950 @archiesgirlveronica: Hot chick zombies! I love it! Message me after midnight to discuss. 03:28 PM November 22, 2007 from the web

Interview: Paul Bibeau's Sundays With Vlad

I watched Chef Machiavelli. He watched the big simmering pot on the stove while holding a large soup spoon at the ready. Zombos nervously watched Chef Machiavelli's back while glancing at our Thanksgiving menu card. A tentacle suddenly pushed the pot lid aside and wiggled defiantly in the air. Chef Machiavelli whacked it with the soup spoon, sending it back into the pot. He slid the lid back in place and resumed his stance of readiness.

"Not done yet?" I asked.

"No," said our chef, unperturbed, raising the flame a little more. He kept watching the pot.

"Look here," said Zombos, "this menu simply won't do. Yak-stuffed octopus is fine, but what about the Frunkens? You know how difficult they can be. We need a native dish they'll love."

Oh yes...the Frunkens. Distant relatives on Zombos' side, originally hailing from Transylvania, recently moved to Pennsylvania under mysterious political circumstances, and soon to grace our annual family get-together with their vexing personalities. I was worried, too. Anything could set them off down the road to our damnation, ruining the festive Thanksgiving we planned for weeks. As for me, simple turkey and cranberry sauce is all I need for a festive dinner. Toss in a few bread rolls, mashed potatoes and gravy, and corn, and, as Emeril would say, "Bam!"

Wait a minute. Transylvania? Transylvania? I started to remember something--oh, bugger, I had almost forgotten! Paul Bibeau's Sundays with Vlad and his journey to find the true Dracula of Bram Stoker's novel, and in our psyche; I'm late in writing up the interview I recently had with him.

"I've got to ask him about that paprika hendl dish he talks about," I said out loud, making a mental note I needed to follow up on.

"Perfetta!" cried Chef Machiavelli, wrestling the soup spoon free from a tenacious tentacle entwined tightly around it. He turned to Zombos. "Paprika hendl," he said, while banging the tentacle back into the pot with his soup spoon. He resumed his stance of readiness.

Zombos clapped his hands together. "Superb! Paprika hendl it is. Capital idea, Zoc."

Finally. Now to more important matters: the interview with Paul Bibeau!

What insane impulse drove you to write Sundays With Vlad?

Like all insane impulses, it seemed very, very rational at the time. I was writing an article for Maxim magazine about the failure of the Dracula-themed amusement park in Romania . It seemed startling to me that Romania was filled with places connected to one of the most famous cultural icons in the world, and yet they couldn’t or wouldn’t cash in. But as I researched the story I began to realize that the Romanian Dracula and our western Dracula were very different. Plus, the stories of the people surrounding Drac were as interesting as the subject matter itself. It was bizarre and rich and complicated, and I had to write about it.

Why are you so obsessed with Dracula? Why not the Wolf Man, or zombies for that matter?

The Wolf Man’s a victim of his curse. Zombies can barely even think beyond how to crack open their next skull. Dracula’s smart, cultured, and in complete control of himself. He really wants to kill you, and he has the skills to go about doing that. He’s Hannibal Lector, and every Bond villain you’ve ever heard of. He’s actually much closer to the Western image of the devil than the others. “A man of wealth and taste,” as someone once said.

That's my understanding of the character also.  I always felt that Bela Lugosi was the embodiment of this "man of wealth and taste?" Do you agree?

Bela was definitely the ultimate "cultured Dracula," as opposed to the animalistic Nosferatu of Murnau's film. Lugosi's son mentioned that Bela started wearing his own opera suit during the play version of Dracula, and continued it with the movie. That style of dress became completely entwined with Dracula itself.

How would you compare Lugosi's Dracula to Christopher Lee's portrayal, given what you know about the real Dracula, Vlad Tepes?

If you remember, Lee portrayed Vlad himself in the documentary, In Search Of Dracula.  I don't have an opinion whether he played a more "Vlad-ish" Count, but his Dracula was definitely more animalistic, closer to the Nosferatu.  And ultimately closer to Stoker's portrayal. The Lugosi portrayal was further away, but at the same time compelling in its own way. I'd compare it to the Kubrick version of The Shining, which departed from the book, but became a classic in its own right.

You wrote "cook a Hungarian dish called Paprika Hendl, and it will tell you everything you need to know about Dracula." What did you mean by that?

The act of taking an ethnic recipe and preparing it in your own home is a kind of data vampirism.  And it shows the fragility of culture -- because culture after all is made of data and information. But I can adopt your recipes, laws, and folkways, and change them into whatever I want. Jonathan Harker mentions he's going to take a recipe back home to Mina at the beginning of Dracula.  Later the Count brags about his knowledge of English culture.  Before we talk about blood and land, we are talking about the real weakness of a culture -- their data. For the data is the life.

After mentioning Bela Lugosi in your book, I think it safe to say you're a monsterkid from way back. Tell us about your monsterific childhood and why you think the horror genre has influenced you so much.

My favorite holiday was Halloween, and my favorite TV special was the Disney version of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow. And then there’s the In Search Of episode on Vlad the Impaler that I write about in my book. I loved that whole series. Leonard Nimoy and his turtleneck brought the horror and mystery of real life into my home, and it damaged me in a wonderful way.

Have you seen the new series, Supernatural Science on television? If so, how do you think it compares to Nimoy and his turtleneck?

I never saw it.  I now have to.

How does your wife do it? I mean put up with your horror-leanings? And has she let you wear a cape yet?

She keeps me in check. She probably would let me wear a cape if I persisted, but I want to keep her happy. I sometimes go through a Jethro Tull phase where I listen to Thick as a Brick a lot, and ponder wearing a codpiece. But that’s out, as well. I love my wife very much, and not a day goes by that I don’t feel thankful for her incredibly low self-esteem, or whatever filthy, filthy fetish she has that makes her hang out with me.

What's your Dracula Was Framed blog all about?

I want to get people to treat the compilation of journals and newspaper clips that make up Dracula as if they were real, honest-to-God testimony about a paranormal event. What’s missing? What seems like it’s not right? How would you reinterpret, rewrite, add to, or generally screw with the text of Stoker’s novel? A fun exercise in critical thinking or creative writing or both. That’s what I want.

In your book, you cover the Dracula/Vampire influence in many areas. One area is the Goth scene. What was it like--a nice, vampire-loving journalist like yourself--entering that culture?

Goths are some of the nicest people you’d ever want to meet! They’re deeply sweet people. Sometimes geeky. Sometimes oddly cool. But they are really fun to hang out with, and once you convince them that you’re not going to be completely mean-spirited and mocking, they are quite helpful about explaining the ins and outs of the goth culture today. And as much as we love to poke fun at it (and no one makes fun of goths like the goths themselves), it’s also important to note that it’s still with us, more than a hundred years after the birth of the gothic novel. So that says something.

You took some chances when visiting Lugoj, and other places in your quest to find the "real" Dracula. Why put yourself in harm's way like that?

You don’t spend time as a reporter without meeting people who are much braver than you. I’ve interviewed New York City cops who survived gunfights that would make me piss my pants. So I look at my risk-taking as pretty minor in comparison. Also, don’t discount stupidity! A lot of the risks I took were just because I didn’t know how scary things would get until it was too late.

You're a writer, journalist, and monologuist. What's a monologuist?

I wrote a collection of funny, scary short stories called “The Big Money,” and to publicize them, I did a series of monologues around Virginia dramatizing them. I’m still a theater geek at heart.

Tell us more about this collection of short stories. What are they about?

They are a mix of horror, suspense, and humor. Drug dealers, bank robberies, rants about love, a tale of revenge, and a novella about working at a women's fashion magazine.

Given your style of writing, have you read O. Henry?

Actually, no.

As a journalist, what do you normally write about?

Spies and criminals, actually. I wrote a profile on Eric Haney, one of the first generation of Delta Force operators. Haney was part of the Iranian hostage rescue mission. And I have interviewed a guy named Antonio Mendez, the CIA officer who successfully rescued the Americans who’d escaped the Iranian embassy during the hostage crisis, and were hiding out with the Canadians. I also wrote an investigative article on a domestic terrorism case and an article on a stripper who ripped off a NASCAR team for a million dollars.

What current horror films do you like? Why?

I have no interest in seeing any of the torture movies. Just doesn’t do it for me. I own the VHS tape of John Carpenter’s Halloween, and when we got a DVD player my wife bought me the DVD version. When they change the technology again, I’ll probably go out and buy it once more. I always want to have that movie on hand, and I try to watch it every Halloween. It’s not just one of the best horror movies ever made, I think it’s a modern legend – The Grimm Brothers retold in suburban America with a bit of the “call is coming from inside the house” thrown in. The Blair Witch Project doesn’t survive multiple viewings – not having a script is a real liability – but it does have moments of horror genius. And limiting the blood and the body count really made it scary. That’s something I wish more people knew.  Ghost Story, The Changeling, The Fog…My favorites come from about twenty years ago, and they try not to show a severed limb or a guy in the rubber suit every 30 seconds.

I’m not a prude. I’m not offended by it. But a movie that combines high production values, extreme violence, CGI out the wazoo, and characters who wouldn’t be believable in a Dentyne commercial leaves me feeling utterly indifferent and not scared at all.

What question have you been dying to be asked, and what's your answer?

Do you think it was fair to lose your job as an advice columnist at Mademoiselle? And the answer is, yes and no.

After two years writing advice on guy-related issues for that magazine back in the late 1990’s, I wrote one section entirely in the voice of Vincent “the Chin” Gigante, the accused boss of the Genovese crime family who was then on trial and constantly strolling around Greenwich Village in his bathrobe, allegedly pretending to be a crazy old man. This did not go over well. The people at Mademoiselle did not want jokes about putting folks into car compactors in their fashion and beauty magazine. In my defense, the piece was very funny. On the other hand, maybe I was not a good fit for that magazine.

Monarch Models' Nosferatu Kit

There is nothing like the smell of styrene in the morning. Monarch's Nosferatu hits the shelves in time for the monsterkid gift-giving season--hint, hint. So stop drooling and buy one already. And don't forget to mail in the club membership. Click each image to get the big picture.

Interview: Count Gore De Vol Still Counting After All These Years

Dick Dyszel's undying alter-ego, Count Gore De Vol, haunted Washington DC's television screens from 1973 to 1987 as TV horror host for station WDCA. Beginning as the character M.T. Graves on the Bozo the Clown show, he parlayed his monstrous likability into hosting his own popular program, Creature Feature. His satirical approach to politics and the sexual revolution kept his show fresh and on the air until all local programming was canceled by the new owners of the station.

The unstoppable count rose from the grave once more, becoming the first Internet Horror Host to haunt the flickering computer screens, entertaining his devoted, and now international, fans every week.

While not putting together his weekly show, you can find him at conventions, hosting horror film festivals, and doing movies. He is featured in American Scary, a documentary devoted to the horror host phenomenon, and appears as The Narrator in Midnight Syndicate's The Dead Matter.

We got a hold of Dick Dyszel and didn't let go until he answered a few questions for your edification pleasure.

What keeps you going after all these wonderful years of horror hosting on television and the Internet?

EGO! I must be the center of the universe....or at least the center of my own modest web program. I, like most actors, love the attention.....particularly when you can do it your way.

Tell us about your early days in the television industry. What was it like?

I could write a book about this...and actually got one started before I lost interest. I was very fortunate in starting my TV career at a brand new UHF station in Paducah, Kentucky. Because we had a small staff, but great facilities, everyone got to do everything. I took advantage of the situation, which led to many 100 hour work weeks. But I also came away with a huge amount of practical knowledge. This allowed me to get off to a fast start in Washington. You have to understand that the 70's and 80’s were the last years of creative local entertainment programming on TV. It was a great time to be alive and in the business.

How did M.T. Graves evolve into Count Gore De Vol?

The general manager wanted a name change, or he wouldn’t approve the show. He said he wanted something “gory” so that’s what we gave him.

How much of Dick Dyszel's personality is part of the Count's?

I’ve been told that Gore is a secret extension of Dick’s personality. Who am I to argue with that?

You are the first horror host to bring his show to the Internet, back in 1998. Can you tell us what inspired you to do that?

In 1987, when I left Channel 20 in Washington, I was really burned out.  I took ten years off, moved to Chicago and discovered the Internet. After a couple of years of people finding me through my DJ site, and encouraging me to bring Gore back, I got the itch to become the first horror host of the Internet. I learned how to do HTML, put the first weekly show on July 11, 1998 and the rest is history. So, I guess it’s the fans that inspired me!

Do you find you have much more creative freedom doing shows on the Internet as opposed to television?

The difference is not as much as you might suspect. At Channel 20 I had a tremendous amount of creative freedom. Heck, my program director used to say, “I don’t want to know what you’re doing!” So, I honored his request! But I did have to deal with other folks picking movies, scheduling production sessions and such. Now, I do all that. It’s a bit more freedom, but a whole lot more responsibility.

What trials, tribulations, and triumphs did you encounter when doing your Internet horror show?

The biggest trials have to do with evolving the program as technology evolves. When we first started we couldn’t stream video because everyone had 28.8 dial-up connections, so we streamed audio. Then came small screen video, then larger and larger and now certain video is streamed at full screen! Next will be high definition. But the worry is timing. When is the technology matured enough and wide enough spread to justify the change.

The triumphs include continued support from a great group of contributors! I could NOT do this weekly web program without their contributions. My longest running contributor is J.L. Comeau, The TombKeeper, who interviews authors and reviews books.

My newest contributor is Duncan Meerod, our paranormal investigator. Other triumphs include a Rondo Award win in 2004 and runner up finishes in 2005 and 2006. But the biggest triumphs have to deal with fan support from not only around the country....but around the world!

Speaking of the paranormal, do you believe in it? and if so, any firsthand experiences?

I have never had a paranormal experience and that really bothers me. I've been in one situation that supposedly was "real" but I quickly saw through the hoax. I someday hope to have such an experience...maybe even on video tape!

How do you keep coming up with ideas for your shows?

Magic! And I’m serious....I have no idea where most of the ideas come from. I do look at the films, the stars, the plots, the recent headlines, Washington politics and how I feel that day! Somehow it all comes together once the camera starts recording.....most of the time.

What advice can you give us on becoming a successful horror host and staying that way?

The best advice it to keep your expectations reasonable and don’t be afraid of new things. It also helps to love what you do! Right now the biggest decision most new hosts have to make is whether to go cable access or Internet! They both have advantages, but if you’re totally new to TV, I think it’s incredibly valuable to get that experience at a cable access studio, but not be afraid to make the leap to Internet.

You've done quite a few interviews with notable personalities: which interviews did you enjoy doing the most and why?

I always enjoy interviewing Dee Wallace Stone...she’s just wonderful. In that same category I would put Brinke Stevens, Reggie Bannister, Bruce Campbell, Lynn Lowery and author David Weber. The reason they are so wonderful is that they are willing to open up to questions based on their own answers. You never know where that will take you, but it breaks the standard response interview.

Tell us about your work on The Dead Matter. What was the experience like being "The Narrator?"

When Edward Douglas of Midnight Syndicate fame asked me to be in the film...not as Gore, but acting as another character, I couldn't say no. After I read the script, I became excited. "The Narrator" is actually a small role that's part of a dream-like sequence. I do both narration and portray a sinister teacher on camera. The experience of shooting on film with a full professional crew was fabulous. I've known Edward through a number of interviews for about 6 years. I knew there was a movie concept perking on the back burner and was thrilled to be part of it. Now we just need for it to be a huge financial success.

What are your favorite and least favorite horror films?

Among my favorites are “Bride of Frankenstein,” “The Thing from Another Planet,” “Alien,” “30 Days of Night,” and “Fright Night.”  I’m not a big fan of “Beast of Yucca Flats,” “Hostel 2,” or “The Village.”

What's the one question you would love to be asked, and what's your answer?

I used to ask this question and never got any good answers, but on some significant thought, I don’t have a good answer (or question) either.

Movie Review: Two Thousand Maniacs! (1964)

Zombos Says: Classic

Glenor Glenda was upside down. Rather, her face was upside down. Or maybe I was upside down. I couldn't tell much through the foggy haze. Suddenly her face changed to Saw's Billy the Puppet's upside down face, leering at me with those cold, unblinking eyes. I shut my eyes wishing him to go away. I mean her to go away. I mean I don’t know what I mean.

"Good lord, now what?" I heard Zombos say.

"He passed out!" she  said. "I think he was watching Two Thousand Maniacs! when he fainted."

"Here, then, give me the smelling salts. And stop bending over him like that. Give him some air."

I opened my eyes. Zombos' face was upside down now, leering at me with its stern, accusatory eyes. I wished him to go away, too.

"You ninny," he said, holding the smelling salts under my nose. "I do not know why you insist on putting yourself through these exercises in self-punishment. If you do not want to see Saw IV, then just do not see it."

He helped me to my feet, though I was still a bit wobbly.

"I thought if I prepared myself by watching one of the earliest gore movies it would help desensitize me. I have a responsibility to our readers," I explained.

"Oh, I think the five of them really do not want to see Saw IV, either," joked Zombos. At least I hope he was joking. "How far did you get into Herschell Gordon Lewis' movie?"

"Up to the axe scene. When she got her thumb cut off I started getting woozy. The axe scene did me in after that." I sipped the glass of Glen Caren Glenor handed to me. There's nothing like a vatted malt whiskey to bring back the color in your cheeks; bright red color, like the color of freshly spilled blood.

 

And there's lots of bright 1960s-colored blood in Two Thousand Maniacs!, the second movie in the Godfather of Gore's blood trilogy that ushered in the splatter-horror genre to an eager drive-in movie audience. Dipping once too often into the nudie-cutie and exploitation well, Lewis and his partner David Friedman searched for their next commercial gusher. They found it in colorized gore, delivered with manic glee, cheap setups, and lingering eyefuls.

Perhaps it's the gleefully sadistic way in which the Brigadoon-like southern townspeople of Pleasant Valley go about torturing and killing the slow-to-grasp-the-situation northerners, or maybe it's the hokey acting and poor direction slamming against the energetically strummed banjo songs, sung by the strolling bluegrass trio as the entire town celebrates its revenge-fueled centennial. Whatever the reasons, the movie is still a wild southern fried terror ride that revels in its nastiness while cheekily grinning from ear to ear. The gore is mild compared to today's more graphic, mechanically-oriented, dismembering and mashing appliances, but a simple knife, or axe, or sharp nail-lined barrel always provides a homey touch of stark horror whimsy to any victimization.

Every hundred years the town of Pleasant Valley comes to life, looking for a little cold comfort by revenging its destruction on those damn Yankees that decimated it during the civil war. Since revenge mostly involves innocent people in horror movies—dumb, innocent people—and sometimes those who instigated the problem in the first place, the townsfolk detour a few northern-born passersby off the highway and into the town as centennial guests of honor.

A carload of two bickering couples—bickering couples are a staple in horror movies, too—are the first to be invited to the barbecue. The couple with extra-kinky shenanigans in mind—my, this one is full of staples, isn’t it?—are the first to succumb to the town's madness. They each go off looking for a tryst with a local yokel, but find terror instead.

By the pricking of her thumb, she loses a digit with more to come.

In a violent scene that holds intensity with its sudden brutality, the hot-to-trot blond gets her thumb maliciously cut off by the town's dashing, rope-belted, blue jeans hunk. With blood spilling all over the place, she's hustled into the "doctor's" office, where quick surgery with an axe really makes a mess of things. Lewis' direction throughout this unpleasant business is over the top. The contradiction between the laughing good-ol' boys hovering over the bleeding, shocked, and dismembered woman is held in the camera's eye long enough to register a disturbing absurdity and disgust, delivering a grindhouse-styled wallop to the senses even a Saw-jaded fan could appreciate.

Her husband doesn't fare all that well, either. After waking from a drunken stupor, he finds himself with a hangover and tied to four horses pointed in different directions. Lewis tones down the shock by cutting away when the horses prance off, only showing a bloody limb dragged over the ground afterwards. For a moment, his camera dwells on the unhappy looks of the spectators, realizing the horror of what they've just done; but only for a moment.

The festivities continue.

Lewis' pièce de résistance is a barrel rolling contest with a nail-barrel. Forced into a gaily-colored barrel, the male half of our second unfortunate couple is perturbed when the mayor starts pounding large sharp nails into it, leaving the prickly points exposed inside the barrel. A short kick down a long hill leaves one more brightly-colored victim dressed in blood-red as the townspeople cheer.

The third couple fares better. A hitchhiking teacher and the woman who picked him up catch on pretty quickly that not all's fun and games in Pleasant Valley. When communication to the outside world is cut off, the teacher realizes it's time to hightail it out of there. The only obstacle to overcome is finding the car key and getting past Billy the kid.

Billy (Vincent Santo), whose favorite pastime is tying mini-nooses to strangle cats with, knows where the car key is, but he drives a hard bargain to fess up. Watching Billy, I couldn't shake the creepy feeling he looked awfully like Billy the Puppet. Just paint two large red targets on his cheeks, darken his hair, stick him on a tricycle, and you'd swear he looks just like him. Or maybe it's just me.

Lewis' budget ($65K in 1960s dollars) for Two Thousand Maniacs! was higher than his more explicit gore-fests in the trilogy, Blood Feast and Color Me Blood Red, allowing him to devote more time to the story and the setups for each gore-effect. Ironically, this may have hurt his directorial style more than helped, but Maniacs! holds up well primarily because of its rough edges.

 

"Feeling better," asked Zombos.

With his help, and three glasses of Glen Caren, I had watched Two Thousand Maniacs! in its entirety.

'Much better," I said.

"Good, then perhaps we should move you up to The Wizard of Gore. Lewis really piles on the bloody gore as a maniac magician's illusions leave his volunteers in pieces. Good lord, not again. Glenor! Quick! Bring the smelling salts!”

 

Spookies (1987) The Other Plan 9

Zombos Says: Poor (but fun to raz on)

Listen to the Movie Review

"Come again?" I asked.

"Cinderella. He wants to dress up as Cinderella for Halloween," said Zombos, glummer than usual.

"Okay. Why not?"

"What do you mean why not? No son of mine is going to—"

"Wait a minute," I interrupted. "Look, I'm on the phone here. I still can't find someone to come with me to see Saw IV. I'm sorry you've got issues with Zombos Junior dressing up as a princess for Halloween, but I need—Hello? I’m trying to reach an Elvis Mitchell. What? Retired? What the hell? Is Peter Travers there, then?”

Zombos moaned. "Oh, lord, dressing up as a girl! At least if he would be Prince Charming, I could accept that. I should have realized something was amiss when he preferred watching America's Next Top Model instead of the Goosebumps marathon. I blame Zimba for this."

"Maybe you can get him to dress up as Maleficent instead? Damn it all, he hung up. Who else can I call," I said to myself. I was desperate. I should review the bloody movie, but I can't take all that sadistic, gory torture stuff that keeps the Saw franchise alive. I needed moral support. And someone to tell me what happens when I close my eyes.

"Why do you need someone to hold your hand just to see a stupid horror movie. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"You're just mad Zombos Junior prefers Cinderella to that Jack Sparrow pirate costume you bought him. Look, so what if he's transgender? He's still your son, right? Maybe he's got an Ed Wood thing going. That would be super, wouldn’t it?”

In the hallway, Zimba and Junior went running by. She yelled at him to give her high-heels back and to stay out of her makeup case. Zombos moaned even louder.

"Oh, bugger. At this rate, Saw IV will be on DVD before I get a chance to see it. Maybe I'll review that cinematic train wreck, Spookies, instead."

"I thought it was only available through Amazon UK?" said Zombos.

"That's right. But I just got my region-free DVD player, so now I can play all those nifty UK horror movies I've been dying to see."

"Count me in," said Zombos, looking for any diversion to take his mind off of Junior.

We headed to the cinematorium to watch Spookies.

 

If you’re looking for the perfect second-half of a double-bill Halloween show with Plan 9 From Outer Space, look no further. Spookies is a movie to be savored for its underdone acting, overbearing dialog, and sheer incoherence. Rarely do horror movies reach this pinnacle of hilarious ineptitude.

Originally started as Twisted Souls, that unfinished movie gave birth to a spook show hodgepodge of 1980s makeup and monster effects colliding head on with badly edited additional footage from yet another unfinished movie, resulting in a two-headed storyline that never meets eye to eye (or should I say eyes to eyes?).

Billy (Alec Nemsir), possibly the dumbest thirteen year-old ever appearing on screen, runs away from home because his parents forgot his birthday. What that has to do with the two cars, filled with bickering couples from Brooklyn—judging by their accents—beats me, but they're in this movie, too.

The kid and bickering couples wind up at a decrepit sorcerer's ominously dark and creepy home: it's ominous because it has an old graveyard surrounding it. Billy is the first to enter the empty house. In the dining room he finds presents and birthday decorations, and quickly concludes his parents are throwing a surprise party for him; in a stranger’s house. Billy doesn’t notice the ominous cemetery or the creepiness. He admires the presents and opens the biggest box, asking out loud if it's a bowling ball. That’s right, a bowling ball. High on every kid’s birthday list, I’m sure. Instead, the sorcerer's smiling head is in the box. Billy screams and runs out of the house, straight into a freshly dug grave. One down, now it’s time for the bickering couples to play their roles as proper horror movie victims, which involves acting dumb and dumber when it can cause the most bodily damage.

Now back to the two cars filled with the bickering couples. Oh, and there's one solo guy: he's the one with the sock puppet sitting alone in the back seat. And not a very good sock puppet. They wind up at the ominously creepy and dark mansion just when young Billy is coughing up dirt as a purple-faced werewolf buries him alive.

Yes, that's right, a purple-faced werewolf. Just go with it. Nothing in this movie makes sense so get used to it now.

The werewolf not only enjoys burying little boys alive, he gets a kick out of holding doors shut on people, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Couples and sock puppet guy enter the mansion to party hardy, and you know what happens to party people in horror movies, don't you? They die hardy.

The Sal Mineo look-alike insists on breaking into a padlocked closet and finds a corpse clutching a Ouija board. Ignoring the significance of a corpse CLUTCHING A QUIJA BOARD, Carly (Lisa Friede), the quiet, Ouija-savvy girl of the group, knows what to do with the planchette. They continue their bickering over what questions to ask like "will we get out alive," while we cut to the sorcerer (Felix Ward) playing a game of chess, although he never moves any of the pieces. He needs souls to revive his wife, who poisoned herself to get away from him. Finally, a little peek at the plot! Enjoy it while it lasts because a peek is all you get.

Carly becomes possessed by the sorcerer and goes after the others. As they run out the front door, zombies pop up out of the graveyard to stop them. They run back into the house screaming hysterically. You will be screaming with laughter at this point. The bickering continues forcing them to split up. That’s another cardinal rule for victims in horror movies: split up to die more easily. Every lazy horror movie scriptwriter knows that one.

Let me recap this for you: with zombies outside, a demon-possessed Carly on the inside, a purple-faced werewolf holding doors shut on them, and a gloating sorcerer playing chess without moving the pieces, THEY SPLIT UP. At least they spend a few minutes bickering over the pros and cons of SPLITTING UP.

Here's where you notice the acting in no way attempts to accommodate the adrenalin-rush terror befalling them. The three directors--yes, I said three--must have been on a coffee break during these crucial scenes. With directors missing in action, the makeup and special effects crew indulge their fancies. The 1980s is THE decade for puffy, rubbery monster suits, herky-jerky animatronics, skittery stop-motion, and glistening, greenish-purplish makeup. You see all of it in this movie with varying degrees of success.

One by one, the blundering, bickering over-aged teens get taken out by one monstrosity after another. Interspersed between each tableau of gory doom, the sorcerer gloats in a bad, Lugosi-styled accent and summons more creatures of the night through Carly. And each time someone scrambles to get out of a room there’s the purple werewolf outside, holding the door closed on one side while they pull hard to open it on the other.

The creatures encountered are like those you'd find on a Skywald horror magazine cover: there are the sod-men in the cellar, farting with each step they take  (I can now unequivocally say farting ruins suspenseful terror); there's the spider-woman (Soo Paek) that sucks the juices out of the annoying sock-puppet guy, actually deflating him as she slurps him up; there’s the grim reaper statue coming to life with blazing red eyes and wielding a mean scythe; and there’s a tentacled, sucker-fish-looking creature that shoots electric bolts. Go figure. The creations are fun to watch in action and help you ignore the messed up storyline.

While everyone is getting killed a la carte, the sorcerer's bride awakens and runs away. A witch-thingie stops her and forces her to run to the graveyard, where more zombies pop up and grab her in an overdrawn groping romp that needed splicing badly. She manages to break free long enough to run into the purple werewolf. There’s no door between them, though. The end makes no sense whatsoever: it's done for visual flair only. Indeed, the entire movie is a series of visual setups, strung between the incongruous sorcerer gloating, party people screaming and dying, the purple werewolf holding doors closed with glee, and a bride loathing her predicament.

If ever there was a reason to throw popcorn at a movie screen, this is it.

This movie is so goofy nonsensical you'll love watching it while deriding the hell out of it. I’m surprised no one’s made this a stage play yet. I’d love to see Spookies, the musical. 

Interview: Spooking in a Haunt Attraction

While chatting with Max, the Drunken Severed Head on the phone (he uses voice dial and a headset, of course), I was surprised to find out he worked as a spooker in a haunted house attraction. This was back in the days when he had a body. Naturally, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to learn all about it.

Which haunted attractions did you spook in, and when?

In the St. Louis attraction "Dr. Zurheide's Asylum", (built inside a very old, former brewery), I was the title character for the first season, and part of the second season. (I think this was in 1995 and 1996; I'd have to unearth my performing resume to be sure, and that might take a good bit of time.

Also in '96 I was a variety of characters for another attraction, whose name escapes me,which was set up outdoors as a maze. Of course, this was all before the circumstances that left me a drunken severed head.

How did you come be involved with it?

Dr. Zurheide's Asylum had an ad I responded to, I think. And as I had previously played a mad scientist in a locally staged horror movie spoof, "Monster House Party", I had pictures that convinced them to use me. ("Zurheide" was the name of one of the owners of the attraction.)

As for the outdoor attraction, I went to them and applied. I had not been happy with the working conditions at Zurheide's.

What were the working conditions like?

They are typical conditions in many attractions: stuffy and smoky from the "fog" pumped in from time to time, breaks were too rare, the sound was loud, and the hours were long. The owners themselves were nice people, but had never opened their own place before and didn't expect how rough it was gonna be.

What part did you play in scaring the paying customers?

Well, as Dr. Zurheide I was a scientist in a large operating theatre, where I had fake corpses to "experiment" on (with scalpels, hypodermics and other such props), and lots of fake body parts. I spend much of my time cackling, muttering, cursing (without profanity), and pretending to do all kinds of nasty stuff to the stiffs and the various amputated parts, including pretending to eat them.

In the outdoor attraction, I played different masked monsters, but the most vivid memory was one night wearing an "Alien" costume. That's right; 5'6" me was in full rubber Alien drag (a professional, beautiful costume), and playing an 8 foot tall character! I think I was frightening in the dark outdoors, but perhaps I was scary only to the very shortest customers! I do remember that I had to wear a vest ringed with ice-packs because the costume was so hot, especially with that large wienie-shaped headpiece that I had to wear. The costume was something assigned to as many actors as possible, because wearing it was such a chore. It had overlapping pieces, which is the reason it could fit people of different sizes.

I've spent all my life daydreaming such stuff! Watched monster movies ever since I was a child. My mother was a horror movie fan. And in "Monster House Party" I had been "Dr. Stein", a Karloff-inspired, wild-eyed nut-job that came in handy when playing another wild-eyed nut-job at the Asylum. I'd also done improvisational comedy with a few different troupes, and improvisational murder mysteries.

What wacky stuff happened to you?

You had to watch out for people who wanted to grab you. Teenage boys and drunks of all ages liked to try it. In the Asylum, most "scenes" had bars between the actor and the customers, so it was much easier to prevent that. No one ever bothered the masked actors who wielded chainsaws. Of course, the saws have no chains on them, so they can't cut anyone, but you can't tell that in a dark attraction, and I think many people were genuinely afraid of being accidentally hacked to bits if they got too close. In the Asylum attraction I did have women surprise me by flashing me their breasts! So, despite the low pay, the job had some benefits!

What other interesting tidbits about your experience can you tell us?

Good weather was important. Rain would drive down the number of customers a great deal, even for indoor attractions. I also remember that at the Asylum the music played over the speakers actually creeped me out. They played the title music, from the film THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL. It's very spooky. Even though I heard it over and over, it gave me goosebumps every night.

Would you do it again?

In a heart beat! A very loud, maddening heart beat...