From Zombos Closet

Graphic Book Review:
The Mammoth Book of Best Horror Comics

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Almost side by side came the violence of the crime comic and the sugariness of teenage romance, then at the very end of the decade a handful of horror comics clawed their way onto the distributors’ schedules. Each spawned an abomination, the like of which had never before been seen in a comic book. Within a matter of years outrage followed on outrage as the contents of these so-called comics emerged to become the most notorious in the industry’s short-lived history. (Peter Normanton in The Mammoth Book of Best Horror Comics)

Zombos Says: Excellent

I am tired. The air is turning colder. My most singular experience is almost at an end. This is my last hope of conveying the enormity of the maddening horror, the numbing terror that has seized my heart, my mind. Sweat from fear makes it difficult to write, but I must…I must relate this most sordid of affairs, this break in the fabric of normalcy, of decency. I neither solicit your belief nor disbelief–you must listen, I beg you to listen, to heed what I say. My time grows ever shorter. He is coming closer…so damned close now. I must leave some record, some thoughts–if only I could focus better, calm my racing mind—some words to warn you before it’s too late, before he finds me…

“There you are!” said Zombos. “Time’s up. You’ve had it long enough.” He held out his hand.

“But I’m not done yet,” I pleaded. “Just another hour. One more hour, surely,” I begged.

“Nope. It’s my turn to read The Mammoth Book of Best Horror Comics. Next time, Zoc, listen to me when I tell you to order two copies.”

The grandfather clock in the hallway scolded me, or was it just striking the midnight hour? Was that the flittering of bat’s wings? Perhaps Zombos was right; maybe I had spent much too much time with these ghoulish, morbid horrors from the 1950s, 60s, and 70s? I reluctantly handed the book to Zombos. He cackled with glee and scurried back into the darkness to gnaw away on his prize–or so I imagined.

Edited by Peter Normanton (publisher of the essential From the Tomb magazine), the fifty crème de la crème horror comics and graphic stories presented within its moldering pages are enough–happily–to wake the dead and incite parents everywhere. Over four hundred pages of memorable atrocities, clawing up from the grave into your nightmares; it’s a dream come true for horrorheads everywhere!

Nightmare71 Describing how he became hooked on horror comics after seeing Sebastia Boada’s long-haired naked babe lounging with hairy ape-thing cover illustration for Skywald’s Nightmare No.17, in 1974, Normanton quickly jumps into the thick of it starting with gruesome gems from the 1940s and 50s in his section entitled The Dark Age of Comics. Although he writes “it wasn’t the bare flesh that got me excited , it was the beast looming in the background and the threat this moody scene invoked,” regarding that suggestive cover, it’s obvious his wife was looking over his shoulder when he wrote his remembrance; so I’ll cut him some geek-slack. It took me a few minutes to even notice the chained, uni-horned, beast in the moody background anyway.

Normanton gives a capsule history of this outlandish dark age, outlining publishers, titles, and the terminal impact notorious psychologist Dr. Frederick Wertham–“whose work maligning horror and crime comics appeared in an assortment of women’s journals during the 1940s and on into the early 1950s”–had on the demise of the lurid, but lucrative, bloody mayhem originally printed in four colors every month.

Each delectable story, reprinted here in ominous black and white, begins with the issue’s cover and background notes on the artist and writer (often the same person); a great way to give credit where it’s due (or the blame for that matter). For the horror comic reader, it’s information frightfully useful when compiling a must-read list of influential talents in the genre. Here you will run screaming from Don Heck’s Hitler’s Head in Weird Terror No.1, and sweat profusely along with Rudy Palais’ travelers in dire trouble in He, grippingly told in Black Cat Mystery No.38. Recurring macabre themes of the newly animated dead, the reluctantly dead, and the soon-to-be-dead, shadow dance their way among the graveyards, castles, and dark forests, partying it up with ghosts, ghouls, vampires, werewolves, and the depraved indifference exhibited by the usual neo-Nazis, scheming relatives, and whip-cracking, radiantly beautiful and well-endowed women with ill intent.

At their zenith, 1950’s horror comics contained torture, masochism, depravity, numerous dismembered and rotting parts, numerous rotting and decapitated heads, and numerous, radiantly beautiful and well-endowed women in various stages of distress (and undress). Monsters, zombies, witches, ghoulies and ghosties, leered, jeered and scared their way across the pulpy pages, leaving shock and delightfully gruesome death in their wake. Maybe Wertham wasn’t so off the mark after all?

–Hello, stop staring at that moody, chained hairy beast already and pay attention!–

In the next section, The Terror Returns, horror comics published under the dubious auspices of the Comics Code in the 1960s and 1970s are represented quite well, beginning with my all-time favorite, The Monster of Dread End, from Dell’s Ghost Stories No.1. Gone are the more graphically executed uses for a cat-o-nine tails and the colorful eye-dangling from socket, axe-split decapitated head–held by the hair–covers and plotlines. The hideous artwork of the 50s gave way to the toned-down, more suggestive and parent-friendly stylizations of Dell, Gold Key, Charlton, Marvel and DC. That is, until publisher James Warren realized the Comics Code didn’t apply to magazines. He used the black and white magazine format for more freedom in expressing horrific storylines graphically, and with the birth of his Creepy, Eerie, and Vampirella magazines, brought sophisticated adult terror to eager young, and old, readers, alarming everyone else in the process. Other publishers sought to emulate the format after the success of  Warren Publishing’s offerings, and soon the luncheonette and newsstand magazine racks were filled to the brim with imitators and innovators. As the competition heated up, so did the mature content, which reached its creative pinnacle in Skywald’s Horror-Mood  Psycho, Nightmare, and Scream magazines.

Normanton mixes in engrossing stories from Psycho and Nightmare, as well as Charlton’s Ghostly Haunts and Ghostly Tales, and adds a story from Eerie Publications’ Weird . Eerie Publications? They’re the ones your mom warned you about. With the nastiest covers and grindhouse-level storylines imaginable, their titles stand as the epitome of entertainingly tasteless horror-fare. Normanton tosses in one of their tamer offerings.

When reading this section of Mammoth’s Best Horror Comics, the differences between the Comics Code-restrained stories, and the unfettered black and white forays into terror, offer a fascinating comparison between the creative talents involved working under both circumstances. In the comic book format, more suggestive and imaginative excursions into the supernatural are the norm, while the black and white horrors in the larger print format relied on more visually-appalling panels, and a simpler, more direct approach in story-telling.

After the explosion of horror titles ended in the 1970s, Normanton goes on to the lean years of the 1980s and 90s, and more recent horror titles in the book’s last two sections entitled, The Faithful Few, and A New Millennium for the Macabre — the 21st Century, respectively. Having rekindled my love for illustrated horror within the last two years, these sections provide a wealth of reading-list material for me to explore. From Peter Von Sholly’s photo-montage remake of John Stanley’s The Monster of Dread End, to Cal McDonald: A Letter From B.S., these stories highlight the continuing sophistication in both artwork and writing that keep the illustrated-horror genre evolving and vibrant.

The Mammoth Book of Best Horror Comics is a treasure-trove that will provide hours of pleasure to the horror lover, and mortify just about everyone else. So  better read it late at night, when the rats in the walls have quieted down, and “For the love of God, Montressor!” no longer echoes loudly through the dark, fungi-soaked catacombs, but whispers oh-so-softly at the edges of your mind. Just make sure to buy two copies, so you’ll be left in peace when the walking dead come calling to read it, too.

Interview: Mark Clark

/ Authors, Books (Non-fiction) / 2 Comments

It’s not that actors no longer give good performances in horror films (they still do), and it’s not as if direction, editing, and special effects weren’t important in the classic horror film era. But in most modern horrors, concept is more important than cast. Horror has become a director’s genre more than an actor’s genre. During the classic era, the genre’s biggest stars were Boris Karloff, Bela Lugosi, Vincent Price and Peter Cushing. In the years since, its brightest luminaries have been Mario Bava, George Romero, Wes Craven and M. Night Shyamalan. (Mark Clark in Smirk Sneer and Scream)

Director Justin Channell’s company acronym, IWC Films, seen on his Heretic Film’s distributed Die and Let Live zombies and pizza flick, sum’s up the current state of horror cinema rather well: IWC stands for Idiots With Cameras. While I admire his light touch of humor, I fear the ring of truth in those three letters is precisely why horror cinema is mostly relegated to backhanded reviews or begrudging nods of minor acceptance. Making the situation worse, it’s not just the idiots holding cameras, but also the ones pretending to act in front of them. Then you have the ones writing incomplete scripts without a hint of drama, pathos or depth, and others directing with those scripts, with nil basic training, because the digital age makes it appear so gosh darn easy to do–and Aunt Edna and Uncle Joey are available Tuesday for free.

Before the digital age gave any idiot with a camera the potential to become another Hitchcock or Romero, but not the sense to learn first, shoot later, horror movies more often than not had drama, pathos, and good acting that was sometimes even great. Even though many of these films were made for a quick buck, too, actors still acted, and writers wrote complete–if not always stellar– scripts. Directors learned their technique and approached their films seriously. Even if the script was underwhelming and the direction uninspired, you could still count on yesterday’s classic horror actor to give it his (or her) stylistic all. It may not have been naturalistic acting, but it was acting that convincingly and realistically entertained. Mark Clark, in his Smirk, Sneer and Scream: Great Acting in Horror Cinema, reminds us of this golden age.

If your looking for detailed plot synopses, look elsewhere: Clark focuses only on the memorable performances that show each actor’s ability to bring the house down. And while his predilection for classic horror actors fills part one, the other two parts of his book examine mainstream actors–those thespians briefly caressing the horror genre to leave their permanent scars–and the often neglected leading ladies of fright. From Boris Karloff to Anthony Perkins, and Bette Davis to Jodie Foster, Clark lists the roles that bewitched us into becoming horror fans in the first place.

After reading his fascinating book, I invited Mark Clark to step into the closet and talk about Smirk, Sneer and Scream…

Tell us about your background and how you came to write Smirk, Sneer and Scream?

I loved the classic monster movies as a kid, and even imagined someday writing a book about them after reading (and re-reading) Edward Edelson’s Weekly Reader type book, GREAT MONSTERS OF THE MOVIES. After college, I worked as a newspaper reporter and film critic for about 10 years. I eventually left that line of work because I wanted to write what I wanted to write, instead of having to write about whatever I was assigned to cover. Toward the end of my newspaper career, I discovered Tom Weaver and the Brunas brothers’ UNIVERSAL HORRORS, which brought back for me the idea of writing about horror movies. I also began writing articles and reviews for magazines like MONSTERS FROM THE VAULT, MIDNIGHT MARQUEE, SCARLET STREET and FILMFAX and launched my online DVD review column.

Why write about acting in horror films? I mean, it’s generally assumed that horror actors are not good actors, right?

Well, I wanted to write a book about horror films, but didn’t want to write a simple history. That had been done to death. I wanted an original angle, and it occurred to me that nobody had ever provided a real appreciation for the great acting performances that had been given in horror films over the years. Horror actors are usually treated like second-class citizens by critics and Academy Award voters, but that’s pure snobbery. Many fine actors worked in the horror genre, and did superb work there. I think Boris Karloff’s work in FRANKENSTEIN or THE BODY SNATCHER, for instance, stacks up with the best screen acting by anybody in any picture.

Also, I wanted to turn the spotlight back on the actors a bit. Even those people who write seriously about horror films these days tend toward narratives where the major players are directors. This is, I think, largely due to the influence of the “autuerist” film theory which emerged in the 1950s and quickly became dominant in critical thought. Personally, I believe that auteurism can be limiting, especially when oversimplified. Sure, directors are important, but film remains a collaborative art. And, as I note in my book, back in the 1930s, nobody went to see a movie based on the name James Whale or Tod Browning. They went based on the name Karloff or Lugosi. Actors and their work, as I see it, went a long way toward defining and shaping the genre, especially during its infancy.

Would you say the acting in classic horror films is different from today’s? If so, why?

Wow, these are great, thought-provoking questions!

Thank you. I amaze myself sometimes, too.

Film acting in general is much different than it was in the 1930s, 40s and 50s. And of course it’s completely different from silent film acting. During the classic movie era, actors performed in a manner that was very stylized and distinctive. It wasn’t necessarily naturalistic, but it could be very expressive. Stars tended to develop a recognizable persona they carried from film to film, but the best actors among the big stars (Humphrey Bogart, Bette Davis, Cary Grant, for example) were able to take that persona in a lot of different directions through subtle variations. With the rise of the Stanislavsky “Method” school of acting, all that changed. Naturalism became the new ideal, and anything stylized was dismissed as “phoney” or “camp.” The best screen actors (Marlon Brando, Dustin Hoffman, Meryl Streep) seemed to vanish into their characters and became almost unrecognizable from film to film. There are a few performers today who have an approach that’s a sort of a hybrid between the classic era and the modern era – actors (like George Clooney, for instance) who have a true star persona, but are capable of submerging into character when necessary.

Of course, this tectonic shift in styles was felt in the horror genre, too. Plus, other changes also had a major impact. The breakup of the studio system brought the death knell for typecasting in the classical definition of the term. Studios couldn’t force an actor to make a career out of one type of character or film. Or, at least, not as easily. If actors had always been free agents, as they are today, we might never have known such a thing as a “horror star” in the first place. Nobody wants to get pigeon-holed as one type of character or too readily associated with one type of film. It’s seen as a bad career move. Left to their own devices, most if not all of the great horror stars would have abandoned the genre to stretch their muscles in different sorts of roles. In the last 20 or 25 years, the only actor who comes close to being a true horror star is Robert Englund. Now, I’ve interviewed Robert and I like him a lot. He’s very intelligent and very funny. But let’s face it, his body of work isn’t going to make anybody forget about Boris Karloff or Peter Cushing. Anyhow, the lack of horror stars has turned horror into more of a director’s genre. Although there are still good performances given in horror movies, often the acting almost seems beside the point. CLOVERFIELD, for instance, strikes me as pretty well-acted, but the film derives most of its power through technique, rather than performance. That’s common now.

You devote a chapter to the leading ladies of horror, including actors like Bette Davis, Jaime Lee Curtis, and Simone Simon. Why? Isn’t horror a man’s game?

Now you’re baiting me! Actually, I found writing that particular chapter more enjoyable than any other in the book. In retrospect, I think an entire book could be written on the subject of women in horror films – not a compendium of biographies like Gregory Mank’s two-volume WOMEN IN HORROR FILMS, but rather a survey of how women’s roles in horror films have reflected the changing place of women in American society over the past century. It’s a fascinating subject, which I touched on (again somewhat indirectly) in SMIRK, but which deserves further consideration and discussion. In the context of SMIRK, my primary focus was to draw attention to the many great performances by women that have graced the horror film, like those by Mia Farrow in ROSEMARY’S BABY and Sissy Spacek in CARRIE in addition to those you mentioned. There were so many great ones, it was tough to narrow it down. That was the hardest part of the entire project, actually — keeping it from growing as big as the NYC yellow pages. There are so many great performances out there, it was impossible to cover them all. My book was intended to be a starting place for discussion, not the final word.

In our email discussions, you mentioned there were  elements you were trying to weave into Smirk, Sneer and Scream you don’t think fully came off. Can you elaborate on them?

Some of them I’ve already touched on, like the impact the rise of method acting and the breakup of the studio system had on horror film acting, and on the evolution of the genre itself. While writing the book, I tried to deal with these developments in a way that, looking back, was too subtle – you can get the narrative, but it’s broken up in bits and pieces in several different write-ups, rather than being stated in a clear, unified manner. I won’t be making that mistake again. In my current book, all my ideas are up front, offered in a clear, linear way. For better or for worse!

Who’s your favorite actor in classic and contemporary horror, and why?

Among the classic horror performers, it’s almost impossible to go wrong with Peter Cushing or Lon Chaney Sr. I think Lionel Atwill and George Zucco are underrated. I love Bela Lugosi and Vincent Price. But my favorite is definitely Karloff. He was just such a master. At the top of his game, his performances could be tremendously subtle and moving. He could scare the hell out of you, or he could break your heart. I don’t think any other horror star has a filmography as full of varied, three-dimensional characters as Karloff, and I don’t think any other star had as significant an impact on the development of the horror film. For decades, he was the face of the genre, the same way John Wayne personified the Western. In terms of contemporary horror films, I tend to like individual performances more than particular actors.

How did you conduct your research for Smirk, Sneer and Scream?

I watched and rewatched hundreds of movies and took copious notes. Very detailed notes. Lots of rewinding, pausing, jotting things down. I tried to break down the physicality of the actor’s performance – not just the line delivery but posture, gait, gestures. What was he or she doing in the scene that really brought the character to life? How did he or she relate to the other players in the scene? How did the actor’s choices differ from or align with the performer’s work in other films? Or with the way other performers had approached similar roles? The hardest part was not getting distracted by other elements in the film, staying focused on just the acting aspect. It required a great deal of discipline and could be exhausting, frankly. Try it some time and see!

As a writer, what’s your regimen to get words onto the page?

A source of ongoing pain, frankly! I tend to write in fits and starts, working very intensely for a while and then not at all for a while. This is absolutely not the way to approach writing, and I am trying to become more steady and disciplined. It’s also a big reason why I took me so long (over six years) to write SMIRK. I need to improve if I’m ever going to write all the books I want to write.

What other books can we see from your digital pen? More on horror, I hope.

I’m currently co-authoring (with Bryan Senn) a book with the working title SIXTIES SHOCKERS: HORROR FILMS OF THE 1960s. It’s going to cover, comprehensively, one of the richest, most varied and most dynamic periods in the history of the genre, a time when the classic horror era overlapped with the dawn of the modern era. I’m especially interested in writing about the way the social upheavals of the era played out in that decade’s horror films. I’m very excited about it. I hope to finish it this year and have it on the market in 2009. Again, McFarland will publish it.

Shameless plug department: By the way, if anybody else out there liked SMIRK, I urge them to check out a book called SCIENCE FICTION AMERICA. Edited by David Hogan, the book contains essays from several writers (including me) about the way social issues have been portrayed in sci-fi films over the years. All the essays are excellent. My two (about I MARRIED A MONSTER FROM OUTER SPACE and the first two ALIEN films) are the best work I have published so far. SCIENCE FICTION AMERICA is available from McFarland.

What’s the one question you’ve been dying to be asked, if any, and what’s your answer?

Q: Can I buy the film rights to SMIRK for a million bucks?

A: Yes. Just make the check payable to me.

Cloverfield (2008)

/ Movies (Horror) / 4 Comments

CloverfieldMonster
Zombos Says: Very Good

In 1954’s classic horror movie, Gojira (Godzilla), the atomic age of mass destruction spawns the monstrous reptile Godzilla, a prehistoric creature rising from the depths of the Pacific Ocean to wreak havoc on Tokyo. As city buildings crumble to dust and thousands of people die, a humbled military fight back in a futile attempt to stop the destruction. A renegade scientist is finally convinced to use his own weapon of mass destruction to destroy Godzilla, but he takes his own life to make sure the weapon will never be used again.

In Cloverfield, we have a newer horror movie more suited to our age of uncertainty and unreason, in which a monstrous creature of unknown origin comes from the depths of the Hudson River (or so it seems) to destroy New York City. With no conclaves of nodding scientists struggling to understand why and no military strategy sessions to explore best options for defense, it’s not clear where it–a huge bat-like creature that looks very much like the huge bat-like creature in The Angry Red Planet–comes from or why it’s destroying everything in sight; but the sudden appearance leaves no time for heroics, strategies, or any of the characters making sense out of what is happening. As Manhattan crumbles into dust and people die, a desperate and overwhelmed military fight on as the creature and the many smaller multi-legged beasties tagging along with it wreak havoc and death.

This is not the first time New York City has been laid waste by a giant monster that comes out of the harbor. In 1953’s The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms another prehistoric reptile, awakened by nuclear radiation, stomps and chomps down on the city and Coney Island until a radioactive isotope, shot from a rifle held at the top of the Cyclone roller-coaster, enters the creature’s earlier bazooka-induced neck wound to stop it cold; but not before a virulent contagion, spread by the blood oozing from that neck wound, takes it’s devastating toll on the population. The Manhattanites in Cloverfield do not fare much better.

What is different here is we get to see the carnage from the civilian perspective, at street level, without miniatures being stomped on, when a going-away party turns into a nightmare for five twenty-something friends. There is no renegade scientist (sane or questionably sane) to save the day, no atomic age rationale to explain and provide a simple solution, and the friends are only trying to stay alive under killer circumstances. Keeping us shoulder-to-shoulder with them is director Matt Reeves shaky camcorder view of the carnage and chaos throughout. Yes, it is one of those point of view, found footage movies. But stick with it even if you are not all that into such techniques of storytelling as it is worth your time.

What you will see is the non-stop recording of Rob’s (Michael Stahl-David) party by his friend Hud (T. J. Miller) morph into a reasonable contrivance for the found footage delivery. We follow Rob and friends up to the rooftop to see what is going on after the building shakes and the power goes out, then hastily run down the stairs and onto the street with them as things heat up. When the Statue of Liberty’s head comes, very impressively, crashing and rolling down the street, confusion and fear kick in, leading to an escape run to get out of Manhattan. The rough handling and sudden gaps in scenes as Hud mishandles his camcorder creates realistic, nerve-wracking tension, and a damn-it-Hud-stand-still annoyance from us; but the quality of his experience, and therefore ours, is exactly what you would expect from anyone using a camcorder during a crisis situation, responding to events unfolding in rapid succession while trying not to trip over their own feet in the process.

This is where a suspension of disbelief comes in handy: Hud keeps filming EVERYTHING through his camera, even though any normal person would chuck the bloody thing and run like hell for safety. All found footage movies must, eventually, rely on the viewer to disengage common sense for the story to work; some use a more natural integration of it, like Troll Hunter, where a bunch of college students are already filming a documentary within the movie’s framework, so they would, naturally, want to record everything that happens. Their found footage is plausible enough, because of this, for us to accept.

Cloverfield integrates its shaky cam with precision, providing enough visual teasers to keep scenes tense and visually engrossing. Given the twenty-something generation’s need to be constantly connected socially to share every storm and urge, it is not a long stretch to believe Hud would keep filming through thick and thin. YouTube and Instagram love you-are-there footage like that. I wish I knew the brand name of that camcorder, though, since its battery life is amazing. It never wears down

Also amazing are the claustrophobic and dismal scenes of turmoil. While the man-in-suit Godzilla and Ray Harryhausen’s stop-motion monsters were state of the art for the 1950s, today’s minute-timer, media-savvy, audiences require more realism and relevance. Seen through Hud’s camcorder, the mix of scene staging, tantalizing creature glimpses, and frenetic action stay believable through its lens. Highlights include Rob turning on the camcorder’s night vision in the subway tunnel to see what’s spooking the rats—really should have done that sooner—and Hud’s close-encounter of the monster kind, giving us a long hard look at the skyscraper-sized creature’s face: classic terror elements jazzed up for the digital age. Scripter Drew Goddard knows his horror: the Brooklyn Bridge encounter, reminiscent of a similar monster-whump in It Came From Beneath the Sea is a terrifying jolt.

While Cloverfield is classic horror at heart, there is a love story driving the action in the right direction too (gladly for us horror fans; sadly, not really well for the characters).

After Rob has a blow-out with his girlfriend at the party, when she later calls his cell phone, hurt and pleading for help, he is off and running to save her, even though his path leads right into the chaos. His friends decide to stay close. Reaching the building where Beth (Odette Yustman) lives, Hud’s “don’t tell me that’s where she lives!” line sums it up best. This is when the struggle really begins.

For all its social-generational look and feel, Cloverfield relies on good old-fashioned horror themes like big monsters whumping big cities to deliver the shocks.

Sweeney Todd
The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (2007)

/ Movies (Horror) / 4 Comments

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.

Horror Fan Holiday Gift Guide

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“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

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"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.

UzumakiIn 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.

Tomie 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.

Museum3 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.Lullabies

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.

Redsnake 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 quicklyDriftingclassroom 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

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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.

Sundays01 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.

…

Holiday Horror Fan Gift GuideRead More »

Comic Book Review:
Papercutz Tales From the Crypt 3

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Ilozzoc 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 webCrypt3comicov

Papercutzcryptkeeper1950 @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

Ilozzoczomboscloset @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

Papercutzcryptkeeper1950 @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

Ilozzoczomboscloset @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

Papercutzcryptkeeper1950 @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

Ilozzoczomboscloset @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

Papercutzcryptkeeper1950 @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

Billythepuppet_2 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

Ilozzoczomboscloset@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


Papercutzcryptkeeper1950 @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

Jerrymahoneyjerrymahoneytime @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

Veronicaarchiesgirlveronica @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

Papercutzcryptkeeper1950 @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

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Vlad01 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!

Vladtepes 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.

Lugosi 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.

Leonard_nimoy_simpsons 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.

Chris_lee_dracula 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.

Bibeau 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

/ Model Kits/Figures / 3 Comments

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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.

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

/ Horror Hosts / Leave a Comment

Count Gore Devol glaring at youDick 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.

Two Thousand Maniacs! (1964)

/ Movies (Drive-in), Movies (Gore) / Leave a Comment

 

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!”