From Zombos' Closet

Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum (2018) Arrives September 18th

Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum arrives on DVD/Blu-ray September 18th, 2018. Here's the neatly pressed info for you for this South Korean horror. I like haunted asylum ghost stories, but found-footage, not so much. But I'll still catch it and let you know how it goes.

News Flash! – The crew of a horror web series travels to an abandoned asylum for a live broadcast. They soon encounter much more than expected as they move deeper inside the nightmarish old building in the horror  thriller GONJIAM: HAUNTED ASYLUM, terrorizing on digital, Blu-ray^™ Combo Pack and DVD September 18 from Well Go USA Entertainment. An updated take on the “found footage” genre of thrillers, Director Jung Bum-Shik (Epitaph, Horror Stories) assembled a cast of mostly newcomers for GONJIAM: HAUNTED ASYLUM, including Wi Ha-Jun, Park Sung-Hun, Lee Seung-Wook, Oh Ah-Yeon, Park Ji-Hyun, Yoo Je-Yoon and Mun Ye-Won.
 
The Story: 

Based on the local legends and stories of people who’ve visited the real-life abandoned hospital, GONJIAM: HAUNTED ASYLUM follows the crew of a horror web show who plan to stream live from inside the asylum. To attract more viewers, the show’s host arranges some scares for the team, but as they move further into the nightmarish old building, they begin to encounter much more than expected.

Death Passage (2017) Movie Review

Zombos Says: Fair Plus

A confounding script mishandled by inexperienced direction. 

Frustration is more likely to occur watching Death Passage (originally Lemon Tree Passage, 2014) than chills. James Campbell's direction is a jumbled mixture of mystery, bewildering ghostly occurrences, and insufficient clarity to progress the story where it would have done the most good to build suspense instead of confusion. It's a ghost story loosely built around the Australian Lemon Tree Passage Ghost, but the ghost here has nothing to do with that other ghost, so you may wonder why they even bothered. 

Once again, American tourists in Australia get into mischief. Of course, American tourists in horror movies always get into mischief and usually die horribly. In this movie, the mystery is whose death is fostering more death and why. Slasher film dynamics, urged on with a Grudge overlay, begin the victim pile up while the camera can't decide which one to focus on more--the slashing, the mystery, or the jumble of victimizations, familiar dialog, and murky flashbacks through it all. Given a pacing sensibility that would be more at home in the 1970s (or perhaps even a VHS shelf-warmer in the 1980s), there isn't much to engage the eye or the mind here, although the production is more than competent and the actors do provide the necessary energy, even if their characters are so much the worse from horror movie character-template wear and tear. More style, less muddle, now that would have greatly helped the storyline.

The muddling begins when American brother and sister Toby and Amelia (Tim Pocock and Pippa Black), and along-for-the-trip Maya (Jessica Tovey), befriend Aussies Geordie and Oscar (Tim Phillips and Andrew Ryan) at the beach. True to quick-scripting form, Geordie is the soft-spoken, sensitive type and Oscar is the loud, carefree sidekick who builds big dicks out of sand. Which, as we already know, is a great way to break the ice with American tourists. A quick round of cricket and some ghost storytelling by a bonfire ensues. The Lemon Tree Passage Ghost comes up and soon they are driving down that road to see its ghostly light. A flash of light does appear as they speed along the road, but that is all they, and we, see of that roadside ghost. It's the other ghost they pick up that commands the storyline from this point on. 

What could have been a refreshing switcheroo is quickly not. Not enough sense or terror is generated as the mystery progresses but does not deepen. Maya starts flipping out from frenzied visions (shown in too much closeup motion) as she becomes possessed. Sam (Nicholas Gunn), Geordie's brother, is bedeviled by an unseen force. Maya's new found friends and fellow travelers start flipping out and eventually dying around her. (What, spoiler? This is a contemporary horror movie silly. Victims die; get over it). Sam's off on his own most of the time, dealing with his own nightmare. What is happening to Sam and to Maya is kept separate until most of the running time is spent, then slammed together for a quick denouement.

When the explanation for all this mayhem finally comes it is a letdown, leaving you with the feeling that too many rewrites had left it mostly stuck in the keyboard. One curious thing: aside from the overuse of fade to black scene shifts, a quick scene switch causes a bewildering how did that happen moment, with someone suddenly tied to a tree.

Now that was spooky.

A screening link was provided for this review, courtesy of Breaking Glass Pictures.

The Forest (2016) Movie Review

Zombos Says: Good (but  not scary)

Director Jason Zada's camera framing is chokingly tight in The Forest, opening up once for a drone mounted camera overhead view that tellingly follows Sara (Natalie Dormer), Aiden (Taylor Kinney), and Michi (Yukiyoshi Ozawa) as they walk a path through Aokigahara Forest, at the foot of Mt. Fuji. The forest is a notorious place for hikers looking to commit suicide, and legend has it, is filled with Yurei (spiteful ghosts), who play deadly tricks on those who stay after dark. So you must not leave the main path and you don't stay in the forest after dark, or so goes the warning. But this is a horror movie and warnings are always ignored in horror movies. Sara meets Aiden, a reporter, who in turn knows a forest guide, Michi. Michi takes regular hikes through Aokigahara looking for suicides, and Aiden goes along for the walks, looking for a potential story.

The story Aiden finds in Sara is that her sister Jess is missing, last seen in this potentially scary forest. Being twin sisters, Sara knows Jess is still alive because she feels it. They share a preternatural ability of knowing when something is wrong with the other. It's not much help beyond that since it doesn't work like GPS, and after the few times Sara keeps insisting she knows her sister is alive because of it, you wish it had been left out of the story. It's not used well or needed. (This is when I noticed there are three credited writers, so maybe an undeveloped thread?)

Sara convinces Aiden to convince Michi to take both of them along on his jaunt through the forest. He's not happy with the idea, but agrees to help. He explains that those who are sad are most vulnerable to the dangerous spirits that lurk there. The question that unfolds and eventually is answered for us is who is actually the sad one: Jess, who's had a rocky life, or Sara, who has a happy marriage but seems to worry a lot about her sister? This becomes the underpinning for the story and provides a layer of involvement missing from the visuals. It's also an essential element within J-Horror: the character who doesn't know herself or himself and who is taken advantage of because of it.

We travel with Sara to Japan fairly quickly, slow down once we get there while she languishes lost in thought, then take the train ride and long walk to the forest with her, where we slow down again for a somewhat confusing (is she dreaming, is this real?) stock scare in the basement of the tourist cabin, and another half-hearted scare at the inn she's staying at. Then Zada jumps out of his routine by capturing the essence of Japan in a scene at twilight, involving schoolgirls crossing her path while she's, once again, lost in thought, snapping her out of her reverie to notice the inn she's standing in front of. An evocative scene that stands out among many less memorable ones. 

Finally walking through the cheery forest (those chirping birds do sound cheery), Sara ignores all of Michi's warnings and insists on staying the night after she finds her sister's yellow tent. And this is after they find a somewhat gamy suicide hanging from a tree. Aiden agrees to stay with her. As night falls, the Yurei come out. The scares do not. Either I'm too jaded or Zada hasn't seen enough Japanese horror to realize breaking a tradition or two here would have made a smarter movie. We didn't need to travel to Aokigahara to see his spirits, we've seen them often enough elsewhere. After getting us and Sara into the forest, he doesn't make us lose our way in the creepy darkness with the visual or stylish flair promised by his birds-eye view or twilight scenes earlier. What he does do well is build the paranoia Sara feels as she questions what's real and what isn't, while opening her backstory to us.

It's infectious. Why did Aiden stay with her? Does he know what happened to Jess? What exactly happened to her parents? Is Sara being tricked and lied to by malevolent spirits dressed as Japanese schoolgirls? Zada reaches a good level of uncertainty but fails to really sell it without more visually unique horrors. What he shows are standard images, within standard events, and providing standard clues. The story unfolds as it should, and there's a nice twist ending--just who exactly is the lost one here?--but it all boils down to an often seen horror scenario presented without enough visual flair or tricky timing to make it more than simply good and not nearly good enough. 

Movie Review: Lady In White (1988)

Zombos Says: Very Good

As the sun waned, I moved into the study and popped the Lady in White into the DVD player. After our Hostel experience, I wanted Zombos to watch a more subtle and traditional horror movie: one that treats murder and depravity in a respectable and nostalgic way.

It’s 1962 in Willowpoint Falls, and in the opening montage, director Frank LaLoggia introduces us to the small town during Halloween, and to the Scarlatti family’s eccentricities. Told as a flashback by the older Frankie Scarlatti (played by LaLoggia), we see the story lightly filtered through his memories as the sensitive young Frankie (played by the big eyed and big eared Lukas Haas) let’s two bully boys trick him into getting locked into the classroom’s foreboding cloakroom. All alone, and a stone’s throw away from a cemetery to boot, Frankie soon falls asleep on the top shelf of the closet, by the window.

An in-camera time lapse shot, done through the half-moon window of the cloakroom looking onto the cemetery, reminded me of a similar effect used in Hammer’s Horror of Dracula, where the sunlight rapidly fades to darkness as seen through the tomb’s window. Darkness is not a good thing when facing vampires or when locked in ominous cloakrooms on Halloween night, to be sure.

When 10 o’clock rolls around, it’s quiet, darker still, and also time for the murder mystery and ghost story to begin. Right off the bat I can identify with Frankie: he’s wearing a black cape and a Bela Lugosi mask. In a later scene in his bedroom, he also has the Aurora monster model kits displayed in all their magnificence.

That certainly brings back memories for yours truly. But I digress.

An eerie reenactment begins as Frankie wakes up from a bad dream involving his dead mother. A cold blast of air enters the room, along with the ghost of a little girl, laughing and playing. An interesting touch here is that this is not an atmospheric haunting, where events merely play over and over again, but the ghost of the little girl responds to Frankie’s presence in the room. She seems as startled to see him as he is to see her. But past events must still play out, and soon she is callously murdered by a shadowy adult figure.

Using a black screen process to create the transparent apparition of the girl, the scene is a harsh contrast to the lighter tone presented earlier in the movie, and sets up the next, more violent scene, where young Frankie finds himself in the unenviable position of sitting on the top shelf of the cloakroom when the real child-killer enters, looking for something that he had dropped into the floor grate after strangling the girl.

The killer realizes he is not alone and shines his flashlight onto the small black caped form, wearing the Bela Lugosi mask, sitting in the corner of the top shelf. Frankie tries to escape, but quickly has the life nearly choked out of him. An effective out of body experience has Frankie meet Melissa Ann, the ghost of the little girl so cruelly murdered long ago. He finds out she is trying to find her mom. Frankie is brought back to consciousness and he is soon delving deeper into this mystery for us.

True to form for the 1960s thematic, the school janitor, an African-American, is found drunk in the basement and is immediately blamed for the attempted murder of Frankie and the murders of 11 other children, including Melissa Ann, who was the first.

Reminiscent of To Kill a Mockingbird, the movie maintains a good balance between the fanciful, Frankie’s adventure with the ghostly Melissa Ann against the blue-lit night scenes in the fairy tale stylized woods, and his coming of age and the painful loss of his mom. This theme of loss is borne also by the ghostly Melissa Ann who is looking for her mother, the ghost of her mother who is looking for Melissa Ann, and not to give too much away, one sister mourning the loss of another.

LaLoggia, who oddly enough grew up in an urban environment, creates a charming small town nostalgia and through the use of carefully controlled colors and lighting brings the hues of autumn inside to his interior scenes. The pharmacy window decorated for Halloween and the classroom scene where Frankie reads his monster story to the class is filled with shades of orange, yellow and the various colors of crisp autumn leaves.

In stark contrast, he uses reds and blues to denote the darker side of this story, and effectively uses dimmer panels to bring the light down or up to transition between important story points in the scene. The overall mood of the movie changes from charming to alarming and back to charming as the story unfolds to its incendiary ending atop the cliffs by the white cottage. LaLoggia’s simple, old-time, approach using in-camera effects combined with basic process shots build his story in an economical but creative way. Like a good ghost story, simple elements combine to create an ethereal dread, making Lady in White a memorable movie.

 

Movie Review: The Woman in Black (2012)

Zombos Says: Very Good

Hammer Film Production's return to period supernatural horror is a strongly rendered traditional ghost story set in Britain's Edwardian time. While not as scary as Robert Wise's The Haunting, or as surprisingly twisting as John Hough's The Legend of Hell House, director Jack Watkins conjures cheerless environs, a foreboding decaying mansion, and a pervasive malevolence poised to strike, in this adaptation of Susan Hill's novel. Most striking are the period sets; I kept fancying Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee would tumble out of a room at any moment with Lee baring his vampire fangs and Cushing crossing two iron candle sticks together.

The oppressive atmosphere of London's oily, sooty fog, changes to the oppressive dreariness felt when Arthur Kipps (Daniel Radcliffe) arrives at Crythin Gifford, a small town of frightened adults beset by a vengeful spirit murdering their children. Kipps, a lawyer still grieving from the loss of his wife, with a son to support and a job in jeapardy, is tasked with settling the immense amount of paperwork left behind by the late Mrs. Drablow of Eel Marsh House. The desolate house is only reachable by Nine Lives Causeway, a long stretch of road that, at certain points, becomes submerged under water during high tide. Surrounding the causeway are marshes filled with impassable, dark, viscous muck, and impenetrable fog.

At Eel Marsh House, Kipps finds Victorian stuffed monkeys, dusty tapestries and faded carpeting, creaking floorboards, thick cobwebs, peeling wallpaper, and lots of papers to go through. The phantom sounds of a carriage accident and cries in the fog, as well as seeing a mysterious figure of a woman dressed in black, put him on edge. Tragedy soon follows and the villagers want him to leave, except for Sam Daily (Ciaran Hinds), a wealthy landowner with the only car (a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost) for miles around. Invited to dinner by Daily, Kipps learns that Sam and his wife (Janet McTeer), have lost their son when Mrs. Daily enters an automatic writing trance she says is her son's way of communicating with her.

Kipps decides to spend the night at Eel Marsh House to finish his business. Sam lends his dog to Kipps for company. The Woman in Black makes sure he and the dog don't get much sleep. Apparitions, ghostly wet footprints, a very disquieting nursery, and the revealing letters Kipps discovers in a window bench keep his attention, and his wits, alert. The next morning more tragedy strikes, and worse still, Kipps learns his son and nanny are coming to Crythin Gifford and he can't stop them.

The ending of Watkin's movie is not the same as the novel, so devout readers of Susan Hill's work may be surprised. Daniel Radcliffe is superb as Arthur Kipps. The wind-up toy animals, monkees, and clowns in the nursery are quite creepy. The story has an atmosphere Ti West can only dream of. It isn't in 3D.

And as for Hammer Film Productions, you can rest assured that Hammer Horror is back with a vengeance.

Movie Review: Grave Encounters (2011)

Zombos Says: Fair

You can sum up Grave Encounters by saying "the joke's on them." 'Them' would be the Grave Encounters ghost-hunting team, a band of charlatans bolstering their television show with bought sightings of ghosts and the melodramatics of a pretend psychic (Mackenzie Gray) hamming it up for effect. After five bogus shows, they unexpectedly meet the real deal in the Collingwood Psychiatric Hospital, an abandoned structure harboring a dark past and soon to be discovered irritable inhabitants. Or is there just one joker tricking them, like the evil Emeric Belasco in Hell House?

Initially starting out with the usual furnishings moving ever so slightly and unnoticed, the team experiences more aggressive activity, then physical atacks by a demonic force. This is where the movie breaks down, abandoning the more traditional--and demanding--scares of ghostly fright that rely on subtlety and vagueness for in-your-face phantoms with CGI facial ticks and a building that refuses to let them leave.

If you recall the terrors in House on Haunted Hill (1999), the time trap of The Sick House (2008), and the standard modus operandi seen in Ghost Hunters on the Syfy channel, you already know what to expect. Like 2006's The Gravedancers, the story loses credibility by pushing its special effects beyond the story's required contextual belief, then ziplines J-horror-styled attrocites in and out of night-vision camera views, sending the Grave Encounters team screaming and running in all directions, and us watching it all collapse into the standard divide and conquer scenario. The mystery of the open window only tantalizes us with possibilities that never transpire; the room tucked away in the tunnels hints at black magic, but to what purpose? And the force stalking the Grave Encounters team never bothered the solitary caretaker, so why pick on them now?

Even if you aren't already exhausted by the cheap to produce found footage, point of view, movie schtick, this one would have been better filmed without the handheld shakycam pyrotechnics. It's a classic story: a group of unbelievers are trapped in a haunted house, teach them a lesson they won't forget (or survive). It's also the type of storyline you can fritter away when you overstep the reality-pretense of POV by squeezing it to bridge sub-genres. Grave Encounters starts as a haunting, then veers into demonic stalking, where the rules of engagement require more visual frenzy, setting up a plot contretemps that skewers the more suspenseful, understated unfolding of ghostly phenomenon. Oddly enough, when the sinister force in the hospital exerts its influence over time and space, there is no religious counter within the Grave Encounters team, a fault many horror movies that play the occultism card fail to take into consideration. Atheist or believer, when confronted by demonic activity and the breakdown of natural laws, there's a natural tendency to become very religious, very fast.

Sean Rogerson as Lance Preston, the team's leader, self-consciously chews up his role  instead of allowing it to digest. White (Juan Riedinger), the tech expert, wears a KICK ME  sign early on, so we know he's going down first. Sasha (Ashleigh Gryzko) is the token screaming female; not much hope for her, either. The camera guy, T.C. (Merwin Mondesir), acts like every other black camera guy character named T.C. is supposed to do--anger, frustration, despair, and done. Mackenzie Gray's psychic is the only character to play it evenly. He looks like a psychic should look, a little weird, a lot of Hollywood groom. He should have had more to do.

Grave Encounters should have had more for its characters and story to do, too.

Movie Review: Whispering Corridors (1998)

Zombos Says: Very Good

Of all the places to die, why choose school?

 

Ki-hyeong Park's Whispering Corridors (Yeogo Goedam)  balances commentary on the psychological and physical abuse found in South Korean girls' schools, sympathy for a lost spirit dwelling equally in daylight and black of night, and a symbolic use of pouring blood to tell a story of loss, brief redemption, and continued loss.

It opens with the ghost prowling school grounds at night, seeking vengeance on a teacher who mistreated her.  The discovery of the teacher's hanging body the next day is seen first in the surprised face of the student who finds it, then next from behind her as she views it, but her head blocks our view. Finally, a step to her left and we see the entire body in the farground with the back of the student in the foreground, side by side. Other student's reactions are then shown in still shots as they come upon the body.

Muted, somber colors inside and out lend starkness to the secrecy unfolding to discovery in the school, toned by the callous mistreatment of the students and the teachers' indifference to their emotional needs. Male teachers in the school are chauvinistic and condenscending, and become violent with little provocation. Mr. Oh (Mad Dog, as the students call him), with his stick and sarcastic temperament, reminded me of a math teacher I suffered through one semester in grade school. He also carried a stick and whacked us on the head with it at little provocation. It is in this restrictive, competitive, and individuality-stifling environment the ghost haunts day and night: by day, as one of the students blending into class for years without any teacher realizing she's hung around year after year, and by night as a vengeance spirit, murdering those teachers who mistreated her or mistreat other girls.

It isn't impossible for a student to attend classes for years and not be noticed: I sat in two college classes, back to back, with the same boring professor and he didn't remember my name or that I had taken another class with him the previous semester. And I sat in the second row, directly in front of him all that time. Park is simply emphasizing how teachers are more involved with keeping authority and class order instead of attending to students' individual needs.

The ghost just wants to be normal, to relive her classroom life again and again in hopes of getting it right. She doesn't want to harm anyone, but vindictive and sadistic teachers keep mistreating the students, bringing on her vengeance-side. While it appears only three times, each occurrence is heralded by supernatural events, leading to a bloody attack, but without gore. Blood isn't used for shock value, especially at the end when a classroom becomes inundated with it, but to convey the flow of life can be either positive or negative, given the ghost of a chance either way.

Movie Review: The Haunting In Connecticut (2009) Boo Who?

Since its inception in the field of spiritualism, the concept of ectoplasm has escaped to become a staple in popular culture and fictional supernatural lore. Notable examples include Noel Coward's 1941 play Blithe Spirit, and the 1984 film Ghostbusters, in which "ectoplasmic residue" secreted by ghosts is portrayed as viscous, cloudy and greenish-white, similar to nasal mucus, famously referred to in Bill Murray's lines "Your mucous", and "He slimed me!" (Wikipedia).

Zombos Says: Good

Right before I drove to the theater last night, to watch a late showing of The Haunting in Connecticut, a lightning storm sparkled and boomed through Westbury, dropping pea-sized hail and fat raindrops by the bucketful. Perfectly horrid weather for, as it turned out, a not so perfect horror movie. While director Peter Cornwell and writers did manage to startle me twice, The Haunting in Connecticut has more in common with Tobe Hooper's energetic spookfest Poltergeist than the lingering, atmospheric scares in Lewis Allen's The Uninvited or Robert Wise's The Haunting, but not enough in common to make it as good.

The Snedeker family's travails with a reportedly true-life demonic haunting in Southington, Connecticut have been documented (I'll leave it up to you if you'd like to put quotes around documented or not) in an episode of A Haunting, which aired on the Discovery Channel, and in Ray Garton's book, In A Dark Place. Taking the cheerless funeral home ambiance and malevolent presence aspects of their paranormal experience, the movie embellishes it with necromancy, runic magic, angry earthbound spirits (earthbound spirits in horror movies always seem to be angry), and spiritualism. This backstory, involving seances run by the sinister Dr. Aickman and his reluctant medium, Jonah, would have made a more effective and terrifying movie entirely on its own.

Movie Review: The Victim (2006)

Zombos Says: Very Good

"Maybe you can reenact the mystery?" said Lawn Gisland. He stretched his unusually long legs out in front of him and yawned. "Like Ting, 'cept less'n the melodrama a mite." He pulled at his cookie duster. "Say, Zoc, squeeze me 'nother one of those cappurino's, por favor."

"Sure pardner," I said, firing up the old cappuccino steam engine. The sound of pent-up steam escaping echoed through the cinematorium.

Zombos continued to look high and low for his eyeglasses, holding up our viewing of the Thai horror movie, The Victim. We were half-way through it before Zombos needed to hit the toilet; three large mocha cappuccinos were a record for him. When he came back he realized he misplaced his second pair of eyes.

Lawn stood up, all six feet and three inches of him, and joined the search. Having starred in numerous Westerns on the little screen during the 1950s and 1960s, he and Zombos went way back together. He had hung up his spurs and retired to Florida to wrestle gators for the tourists. Getting bored with that he scratched his itch by touring as a circus cowboy, doing trick shooting and fancy riding. He was visiting the mansion while the Smith and Walloo Brothers 3-in-1 tent show set up in Long Island. For a man his age, he didn't show it. Zombos often joked that Lawn must have a decrepit looking portrait in his attic like Dorian Gray.

I bet he did.

"Here. Wet your whistle while you search." I handed the cappuccino to him. He downed it in three gulps. Something crunched sharply under his right Black Jack Hornback Alligator boot heel as he handed me his empty mug.

Zombos froze, his eyes widened.

"Found them," said Lawn. He stooped to pick up them up and handed the mangled eyeglasses back to Zombos.

After I hastily retrieved Zombos' second pair from the library we continued our viewing of The Victim.

Considering Thailand's strong superstitions about ghostly phenomena, it's a wonder Ghost Hunters Jason and Grant haven't visited that country yet. In The Victim, spirits are everywhere, especially as the sprightly aspiring actor Ting (Pitchanart Sakakorn) goes around reenacting the victims' parts in real-life crime scene recreations, places where bad karma is rife.

One spirit in particular piques her interest, and challenges her acting skills to the fullest as she reenacts the circumstances surrounding the disappearance and death of Meen, a former Miss Thailand.

It soon appears that Ting is losing herself as she prepares for the reenactment of the crime, succumbing to violent flashbacks involving Meen, and disturbing, sometimes bloody, visitations by earthbound ghosts looking for help or vengeance.

The ghostly imagery, directed by Monthon Arayangkoon, moves between poetically eerie glimpses of a genuinely unnerving twilight world filled with pitiable and vengeful spirits at arm's reach, and the usual shocks we are now accustomed to. The pacing slowly moves the story along, and the interplay of bright colors across light and dark scenes, contrasting with darker-toned scenes earlier in the movie, provides visual cuing for the sudden story within the story transition. Just when you think you know what's going on, bingo! you scramble for the remote to go back and see if you missed something.

In an unusual move for Thai horror, Arayangkoon pulls the rug out from under Ting, Meen, and the whole criminal scene investigation storyline by beginning a new storyline, creating a story you thought was happening within the story that is happening. While it starts out as a ghost story, it morphs into a "who's the ghost?" story, and even then, not satisfied with changing Ting's role completely, and meddling with the principal ghost involved, the reasons for all the vengeful havoc befalling Ting and others is revealed to be entirely different from what it seemed to be.

The Victim is an ambitious, more complex movie than usually comes out of T-Horror cinema, and it can be confusing, especially with the little helpful English subtitles that fail to capture the nuances of the Thai language; but it's still a pleasantly surprising departure from the usually straightforward horror fare we've come to expect from Asia. The cultural oddity, for us, with Thai police reenacting crime scenes using actors and the alleged criminal to provide the press with a photo op, and perhaps the spirits of victims with a modicum of peace, separates us from the business as usual horror shown in American cinema, and puts us off-balance immediately.

Drawing strength from its cultural perspectives, the movie draws on real crimes, and was shot on the actual locations where victims met their violent deaths. Building on this unpleasant reality, the movie's artificial reality has an earnest sense of its supernatural underpinnings. The carefully accentuated coloration of these locations, Ting's flashbacks, and the ghostly phenomena that befalls unsuspecting victims creates stark contrasts against each other, especially the later scenes, using a carefully executed palette that is above the over-used blanched fluorescent lighting simplicity seen in Saw, Dark Corners, and other American hard horror endeavors.

With the revelation of the second story, entering on the heels of a revealed lesbian relationship, the movie becomes a who's next? more than a whodunit?, and characters are powerless against a malevolent spirit that neither a traditional Thai spirit house or magic-bestowing tattoo inked with a bamboo needle will appease or avert. In one notable scene, framed through a narrow doorway, a pair of ghostly hands, at the ends of stretching...stretching...stretching arms, reach out to grab one unsuspecting victim.

Watch this movie late at night, when all is quiet and the world is right, and you just may find yourself checking to see if the front door is locked. Again, and again.

Just remember that doors don't stop ghosts, especially when you're alone and in the dark.

With them.

 

Movie Review: The Gravedancers (2006)

Zombos Says: Good

Step on a crack, break your back.
Step under a ladder, fall with a clatter.
Dance on a grave, get your ass kicked.

Zombos and I were out in the family cemetery, in the tepid air of a late summer night, prowling around for blurry apparitions to capture on video and unintelligible but spooky noises to record on our digital recorders. He was so excited after watching the new episodes of Ghost Hunters and the Haunted Collector on the Syfy Channel he went online and bought a bunch of spirit-busting gizmos.

"I think I have Uncle Clarence on the thermal imaging scope," he said with glee. He pointed to a pink blob in the lower left corner. It was bent over at an odd angle; Uncle Clarence was always bent over from the weight of his hunchback.

"That's your thumb," I finally said. He grunted his disappointment and moved his thumb out of the way.

"Hullo, what's that?" I pointed to a dark shape floating just above Cousin Shoemaker's tombstone. The Ghost-Mart Smart-Budget EMF reader's numbers were jumping into the high digits.

We cautiously approached the globular shape that quietly hovered above the grave.

"Quick, ask some questions so we can capture its voice on the digital recorder," Zombos directed.

"Are you Cousin Titus Shoemaker? If so, where did you bury your fortune in the mansion? And how much is it worth? And is it true that Aunt Matilda hit you in the head forty-one times with that meat cleaver Chef Machiavelli still insists on keeping in the third drawer to the right of the triple sink just because you snored?"

"Oh, bugger!" Zombos had gotten close enough to touch the floating shape. "It is not ectoplasm. It is a Barney helium balloon."

"Damn." I turned off the digital recorder. "Well, perhaps we should just watchThe Gravedancers instead?"

"Capital idea!" someone said.

Zombos looked at me. I looked at him. We looked around the empty cemetery. We kept looking back at it as we ran to the safety of the mansion.

 

While the smartly dressed paranormal investigators in The Gravedancers aren't exactly the plumbers by day, fearless supernatural inquirers by night kind, they still manage to do a few things right. But in the end, when you go dancing on other people's graves, you might as well stick a "Kick Me" sign on your back and be done with it.

The nearer to death among you may remember the 1942 Lights Out radio drama, Poltergeist, about the terminal effects from gravedancing. Building on this premise, Mike Mendez' movie is a tidy little romp in the spirit world that draws inspiration and visual styling from such gems as Night of the Demons, The Frighteners, and Poltergeist.

Unfortunately, it also draws a bit too much from the over the top remake of The Haunting, and that's where it loses the scary-cred it builds up in the first two-thirds of the story. For a low-budget fright-flick, however, it's stylish, has good acting, and has coherent—if not always best for the situation—dialog. Toss in its few good shocks and you've got a good ghost flick to add to your Halloween viewing list.

Three long-time, but haven't-seen-each-other-in-a-while friends get together for another friend's funeral. Oddly enough, the funeral has nothing to do with the now obligatory horror movie shock opening in the first few minutes. It's thrilling and chilling, but don't expect it to tie in anytime soon with the rest of the story. At the goading of the friend who's yearbook photo has noted "voted the most likely to succeed at Kinkos," they wind up back at the grave in Crescent View Cemetery, late at night, and stone-cold drunk.

Oh look! Someone's left an odd card at their friend's tombstone.

It reads to party all night, and dance over as many graves as possible to loud rock music.

Sure, why not?

Their luck goes downhill from here. The camera nervously peeks around at the shocked tombstones as our bunch, led by that Kinkos ne'er-do-idiot, dance on the resting spots of the town's worst former inhabitants: an incendiary child guilty of multiple homicides; a pillar of the community who tortured many women tied to it; and a piano teacher who chopped up her lover when not playing Chopin; making that a neat one ghost each for them and their death-mocking dance.

In the weeks that follow, creepy sounds, flickering lights, doors opening on their own, a frightened cat, and a piano playing by itself spook Harris McKay (Dominic Purcell) and his significantly-spooked other, Allison (Clare Kramer). They follow up with Kira, another gravely afflicted cemetery party-goer, who has been having her own ups and downs with a spirit that alternately bites and molests her. They bring her to a hospital; a setup for a wonderfully frightening encounter with a spirited gurney.

Their third dance partner, that Kinkos guy who got them in this mess, has been having some hot issues of his own. When they go to visit him, he's already called in the local college's paranormal investigation team (all the rage now, really) headed by Vincent (Tcheky Karyo), and his comely assistant, Culpepper (Meghann Perry). It takes the investigators little time to figure out it's the old dancing-on-graves curse at work, which persists from moon to moon, or until the cursed person dies. I bet Jason and Grant from TAPS never heard of that one.

So it's back to Crescent View Cemetery, in the dead of night (of course), to rebury the remains of the antagonized ghosts in hopes of putting them to rest—again. What ensues is a nicely choreographed example of why you shouldn't jump into graves with very spiteful ghosts itching to bury you, too. It gets worse when one of the investigators decides to do something very unprofessional, leading to more animatronic special effects, surprisingly well done on such a small budget, but somewhat over the top for what started as a more intimate haunting.

Everyone regroups at the investigators' stately mansion (Jason and Grant, eat your heart out), but soon they're bickering over who slept with whom and arguing over old relationship issues. You know, the sorts of things every potential victim in a horror movie does just before he or she dies. An unexpected rearrangement of the landscape keeps them locked in the mansion, trying to fend off their three ghostly antagonists who keep coming on strong.

The climax is a heady mix of really big, ghostly CGI animation, a determined floating bloody corpse wielding a very sharp axe, and a skillful product placement for HUMMER—I'd like to see a Prius save the day like that.

After this movie, I guarantee you'll not dance on any graves any time soon, and you'll pay more attention to Jason and Grant on Ghost Hunters, looking for as many useful pointers as possible to ward off vengeful spirits.

You never know.

 

Movie Review: Naina (2005)

Zombos Says: Good

It took a few attempts to get Shripal Morakhia's Naina into the DVD player. After the first bottle of Claret, my coordination deteriorated rapidly. I finally loaded the disc and Zombos and I were soon watching this intriguing Bollywood Horror remake of The Eye.

With a matter-of-fact tagline that reads, "Twenty years of darkness, seven days of hell, no one could survive it, SHE DID," we did not have very high expectations. But the Claret made us stronger and more daring.

Then there are the cultural differences: how would a Hindi version of The Eye fit in with the melodramatic and religious aspects of Bollywood cinema? And most importantly of all, would there be singing and dancing?

"Bring on the dancing and singing Gopis," hiccupped Zombos. "If I could stand it in Rocky Horror, I can stand it here."

"There were no Gopis in The Rocky Horror Picture Show," I told him.

"Not dressed as such, but the premise is the same."

"Point taken," I conceded. "But there are no Gopis, nor singing or dancing in this movie."

"What? Impossible! I thought that was a contractual requirement for every Bollywood movie?"

"Apparently horror movies are excluded from that requirement." I said.

I started the movie.

The opening shows the accident that leaves young Naina blind, intercut with a bloody cesarean-section of a still-born baby girl that suddenly comes back to life just as Naina's parents are killed in an accident. Then there is an eclipse of the sun. We move ahead years later to a point where Naina is ready to undergo a cornea transplant operation.

"I am already confused," said Zombos.

I refilled his glass. "There, that should help."

Urmila Matondkar plays Naina Shah with a touch of melodrama—after all this is a Bollywood movie—and grandmotherly Mrs. Shah (Kamini Khanna) is constantly by her side. Yet the coloration of the movie, the cinematography, and, to some extent the somber, bittersweet, piano score give this movie a J-Horror style.

Naina speaks briefly to a boy in the hospital who is undergoing numerous brain operations, before she undergoes surgery to restore her sight. After the operation she begins to see dark figures through her blurry vision. These figures lead patients away. She also hears spooky sounds and sees dead people. Every dead person she sees is dressed in crisp white, neatly-pressed, clothes. It's comforting to know there are laundries in the after-life.

Mrs. Shah quickly pulls out the eligible bachelor photos for Naina now that she can see, and starts working the old marriage magic on her. But Naina is becoming more and more distraught as her visions become more frightening. As Hindi cinema tradition would have it, the psychiatrist Mrs. Shah brings Naina to for help is handsome, eligible, and immediately infatuated with her loveliness—it's love at first sight for both of them. A somewhat derailing Love Boat-styled romantic montage ensues and the horror is put on hold while love is in the air.

"Wake me when we get back to the dead people," said Zombos.

I took a long sip of Claret. And another long sip of Claret.

Eventually Naina sees more and deader people and now they see her. From hanged men dressed in clean white clothes in restaurants, to little girls with little curls in hallways asking, "Have you seen my mommy?" Understandably, she becomes more distraught. Her psychiatrist boyfriend thinks it's all in her mind (no, really?) and she can't convince Mrs. Shah that those creepy black figures and talkative dead people are driving her to new heights of over-acting.

Then there's the elevator scene.

It works well and puts you on the edge of your seat with its scary encounter in a tight spot. After that she's back in the hospital and seeing more creepy black figures. A walk through the morgue as she follows eerie sounds and black figures is done with her as the only moving figure in a frozen room of doctors, nurses, and bodies in various stages of dissection. Gruesome.

At this point in her travails, she begins to question God. You don't see much questioning of God in American horror movies unless some victim or madman is yelling expletives. She questions why God is showing her these sights. He tells her it's time for the intermission.

No, I’m just kidding you, but the movie does stop—remember this is a DVD—with a big "Intermission" shown onscreen. You certainly don't see this in American Horror DVDs or movies either.

I waited to see if a dancing bag of Buttery Sally Popcorn and Mr. Straw jumping into a cup of Coke would appear, singing "Let's all go to the concession stand and have ourselves a snack."

"Thank god," said Zombos. "I really need to take a p—"

"I'll get more Sherry and Coke."

"Capital idea!" he said, hurrying to the bathroom.

 

INTERMISSION

While we wait for intermission to end, let me direct your attention to how this movie caused a lot of concern when it was released:

 

NEW DELHI (Reuters, 2005) – Indian eye doctors have asked a court to ban a movie in which the heroine sees ghosts after a cornea transplant, saying it will scare off donors and patients. The All India Ophthalmological Society complained to Delhi's high court that the movie "Naina" (Eyes), starring Bollywood bombshell Urmila Matondkar, would reinforce myths about cornea transplants, The Times of India said Friday. "This movie could create a fear psychosis among cornea recipients and their relatives as well as among potential eye donors," ophthalmologist Navin Sakhuja told Reuters. Would-be donors could be frightened off, afraid their eyes would "live on after they are dead," said Sakhuja, a member of the society. "We have a huge backlog of people, particularly children, waiting to get new corneas. His movie adds to misconceptions and could hurt efforts to get them those corneas." Naina's director says the heroine's visions after the transplant following 20 years of blindness are caused by what the donor had seen and experienced in life. "If such objections are taken into account, no horror film will ever be made," the Times quoted Shripal Morakhia saying. The court is due to hear the case Wednesday, but the movie was released nationally Friday. India needs 40,000-50,000 corneas a year but only 15,000 are donated. Hindus believe in reincarnation and that what they do and how they behave in this life affects the next. Doctors say some people fear they will be reborn blind if they give up their eyes.”

 

END OF INTERMISSION

 

Now let’s back to our movie, shall we?

Naina is riding the train, talking to the psychiatrist boyfriend on her cell phone, when a revelation occurs, forcing her to suddenly question not only God, but who she is and the person who donated the corneas. Naina drags her reluctant boyfriend along to a place she's seen in a vision. She stops being a victim and becomes resolute in finding answers. This sudden shift in the story is surprising and suspenseful, and adds an intriguing layer to it. Naina overcomes her fear as she investigates what happened to the eye donor, learns why dead people are attracted to her, and seeks to complete a broken cycle of reincarnation, even as those black figures begin to congregate in larger numbers.

Naina is similar to Premonition and Sixth Sense, but the mixing of J-Horror elements with Bollywood-Horror makes a story that’s part horror, part mystery, part ghost story, and worth a view by any horrorhead looking for something out of the ordinary.

And there's no dancing or singing, either. 

Tap Dancing to Hell and a Pot o'Gold Part 3 The Ghosts You Know The Haunting (1963)

Tap Dancing to Hell and a Pot o'Gold Part 3 (Part 2)

Zombos Says: Classic

"Do you see him?" asked Curly Joe.

"No." I shone my flashlight down the long tunnel. "This is just great."

The tunnel we were standing in was long, narrow, and filled with doors; ominous, gray, metal-clad doors that practically screamed "Stay Out!" They were the types of doors you see in movies like Hostel. I hate doors like that.

"What's this?" he asked.

“‘Help Zombos Go Home,’” I read out loud, in the dim light of my flashlight. The large letters were written in script across the brick wall, with a kid’s pink chalk stick by the look of it.

"Who the hell’l want ta write in pink chalk down here?”

"No, not chalk," I said, touching it with my fingertip and tasting it. "Like chalk, I'd say."

"I should’a listened ta the other plumbers ‘bout this place. Now I’m playin’ in Zork-land." He sat on his rump and put his head in his hands. "Ya realize yer gonna get one hell of a bill, don't ya?"

Zombos pays the bills so I ignored him. "You know, this writing reminds me of that scary Shirley Jackson ghost story directed by Robert Wise, The Haunting."

Curly Joe perked up. "Say, I remember dat movie; pretty scary, even though ya never see any ghosts."

Perhaps this is the best way to describe The Haunting: a frightening ghost story because it doesn't show any ghosts. Unlike today’s vivid use of Japanese Onryô apparitions—in need of a shampoo and cut—vindictively mauling everyone onscreen, Wise only suggests ghosts, creating one of the scariest movies by sound and implication.

Taken from Jackson’s novel, The Haunting of Hill House, Nelson Gidding’s psychological screenplay uses her ambiguous supernatural inferences occurring within the house and leaves out those happening outside (such as the unsettling phantom picnic); keeping the tension-building squarely in the house as Dr. Markway's (Richard Johnson) skittish paranormal investigators experience the teasingly malevolent manifestations of Hill House’s former tenants.

In the foreboding opening montage, Dr. Markway relates the sordid history of Hill House, from the tragic death of Hugh Crain's first wife before she actually sees the morose mansion, to the mysterious death of his second wife down a long flight of, and finally the suicide of Abigail’s nurse-companion. Abigail was Hugh Crain’s repressed daughter. The companion, who inherited the estate because there was no one else to give it to after Abigail died a lonely death, hung herself from the wrought-iron spiral staircase in the sunless library; perhaps because she was never really left alone in the sprawling, gloomy house.

Clearly, Hill House has issues, and that's what draws the attention of Dr. Markway: he's looking for "the key to another world," and believes Hill House will provide it. And boy does it do so with relish. As he assembles his team from the dwindling group of people that still dare to enter Hill House after they learn about its unsavory past, he chooses Eleanor (Julie Harris), a fragile woman with no life of her own. She's a walking, living, ghost herself, and after spending the last eleven years taking care of her invalid mother, has nothing to call her own: not a relationship, not a career, not a hobby, not even her own place to live. She sees Dr. Markway's invitation as her great escape, her final chance to spread her wings and breathe freedom. This makes her dangerously vulnerable to the influences of Hill House. And Abigail, whose declining years were spent isolated, with only her companion to provide company.

Another member of Dr. Markway's team is Theo, a psychic sponge who knows everyone intimately on first meeting. She’s hip, she’s smart, and she takes a fancy to Eleanor, but Eleanor's fancy is tickled more by Dr. Markway, which leads to earthly tension in a house where Hugh Crane derided earthly pleasures. Just look at the ugly bible illustrations of damnation for the wicked he foisted on poor little Abigail: it’s the proverbial bible for horror movie victimology 101: enjoy thyself and die, oh wicked one!

Luke (Russ Tamblyn) is the skeptic. Not part of Dr. Markway’s team, he's there because he's inheriting the house and wants to look after his future interests. He doesn't believe in spirits unless they’re bottled. Tamblyn’s Luke is armed with quick-with-a-quip resolve. He jokes to dispel the awkward feeling the unknown gives him when explanations are needy.

Julie Harris, Wise's choice for the role of Eleanor, or Nell as Theo calls her, is the character everyone and everything in the house becomes enamored with. Her clumsy shyness hides her need to desperately belong somewhere, anywhere, even if it is here; and Claire Bloom's alluring but predatory "nature's mistake" Theo resents the house's need for Nell as much as she resents her own need for Nell. Both women alternately bond, break apart, and bond again, trading biting insults as their relationship becomes as difficult to navigate as the house’s hallways.

The outside shots of Hill House—in actuality the Ettington Park Hotel in England—are made even more ominously brooding by Wise's shrewd use of infra-red movie to sharpen and darken the arched, neo-gothic windows and towering brick facade to the point of austerity. His technique of darkening the mansion under angry clouds, when a supernatural event is about to happen, cues the chills for us even more. Choosing the naturally more gritty and spooky quality of black and white movie stock over color also intensifies the brooding interplay of stark shadows and lightness in the interiors of the mansion, emphasizing the not-quite-right nature of the house that Hugh Crain built, where doors shut themselves, walls meet at odd angles, and "nothing seems to move until you look away."

Looking for ways to enhance the foreboding atmosphere of his movie, Wise jumped at the chance to use a newly available prototype 35mm lens that presented a slight distortion for his Panavision landscape, increasing the unnaturalness of the mansion's rooms and exteriors in a subtle way. He had to sign a waiver releasing the manufacturer from any liability before he could acquire it (Bryan Senn, Cinematic Hauntings).

Wise's unique visual styling of the movie aside, it's his minimalist depiction of terrifying events assailing Nell and Theo that turn The Haunting into a classic, adult tale of suspenseful frights. The violent nighttime encounter with something conspicuously making its way through the halls to find them in their bedroom, the intense pounding on the door, the scuffling, and the heart-stopping turning doorknob as it seeks to get in is a nerve-tingling blend of spiraling camera work, fearful reactions as Nell and Theo look to each other for support, and loud, disorientating banging following by silence. This impression of what may be trying to get in generates genuine scares. I dare you to watch this late at night and alone.

Wise builds friction between the investigators as Nell begins to lose herself to the intoxicating and liberating influence of Hill House, between alternating bouts of willingness and reluctance. As a kindred spirit—albeit a living one—to Abigail's companion, it is never made clear who or what exactly is enamored with Nell aside from Theo. Is it Abigail, seeking a companion again, or is it the companion, trapped alone, seeking release from a vengeful Abigail?

‘Help Eleanor Come Home,’ found written in large letters with "something like chalk," is seen on a hallway wall. Dr. Markway now realizes what we already know: how vulnerable Nell really is to this key to another world. One side of him wants Eleanor to leave for her own safety, but the other realizes she is the lightning rod, the attractor for the haunting. Or is he becoming more amenable to Nell’s obvious infatuation with him, or maybe he’s concerned she has no other place to go?

When Dr. Markway's wife (Lois Maxwell), another skeptic, unexpectedly visits, pleading with him to end his ridiculous ghost-hunting nonsense, Nell, in a fit of jealous pique, mentions the nursery when Mrs. Markway asks for the scariest room to sleep in. Although Nell realizes the seriousness of what she said—the nursery is the evil heart of Hill House—Mrs. Markway insists on staying in the room. Although Mrs. Markway refuses to stay with the others, Dr. Markway insists everyone else spend the night together for safety, while he and Luke take turns watching the nursery for any sign of trouble. When Luke sneaks into the parlor for a quick, fortifying drink, the door slams shut with a loud bang, waking the others. Once again, a door becomes the only separation between the living and the unknown, and Luke comes to an abrupt realization that he'll have a lot of trouble trying to sell Hill House. Wise ups the ante for terror here with a simple, non-CGI, effect that will send chills down your spine.

When whatever is doing the pounding heads upstairs to the nursery, Luke, now a card-carrying believer in the supernatural, fights Dr. Markway to keep the door closed, and Nell, visibly and metaphorically, retreats into the bowels of Hill House. Like Abigail's companion, she heads to the library where, at the top of the rickety spiral staircase, she contemplates a similar fate.

Will Hill House have what it wants? Will Eleanor? What happens to Mrs. Markway? Will she live long enough to become a believer in the supernatural, too?

The Haunting must be watched at night with the lights off, or in a darkened theater, well into the evening. It is a sophisticated, well-crafted foray into the ghostly realm, and one that will leave you exhilarated and scared and happy such horror movies still may be found.

Do not confuse this movie with its befuddled remake.

This one’s the real scary deal.

 

Part 4

Tap Dancing to Hell and a Pot o'Gold Part 2 Black Sunday (1960)

Part 1 

Zombos Says: Classic

"Well this is just swell," I said. "Now we've lost Chef Machiavelli."

"He cannot have gone too far ahead." Zombos shone his flashlight down the tunnel on the left.

We were standing in the second large chamber of the perpendicular brick Gothic-arched basement that ran like a rabbit's warren beneath the mansion and toward the beach. Expanded by the original owner of the mansion before he went insane, the basement was a mosaic of tunnels and vaulted rooms running from and connecting to three large circular chambers with vaulted ceilings. Before the expansion, boot-leggers used the tunnels to run hootch during Prohibition, and before them, pirates used the beach tunnels to hide their rum and booty. The plumber was not in the boiler room, but the good thing was we now had heat. He must have gotten lost heading back upstairs.

"Well then, let us go this way," said Zombos. "Take a note: we really need to replace these burned-out light bulbs." He pointed to the many dark spots in the string of lights strung along the walls of the basement. There were a lot of dark spots because no one liked coming down here, especially me, to replace them.

A few yards into the tunnel he tripped over something sticking out of the dirt floor. He swung the light over as he picked himself up. It was an arm. In the clenched fist were daisies. We looked down and saw a large patch of bright yellow daisies growing all around the elbow.

"Good lord! Pull man, pull!" We grabbed hold of the arm and pulled as hard as we could. Together we unburied the plumber.

"What the hell! I'll murderlize da bum," spat the plumber, along with some daisies. He pulled himself out of the dirt the rest of the way, spitting daisies from his mouth and brushing dirt off his clothes.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I got tha boiler workin'," said Curly Joe. "Then I'm packin' up and I hear dis voice comin’ from one of the tunnels. Nice, sexy voice, you know, just like Barbara Steele sounds like. I go lookin' and the next thing I know a little guy is cursin' me and I'm cursin' him back. Last thing I remember is I'm tellin' him he's goin' ta be pushin' up daisies if he keeps yellin' at me and bam, I'm spittin' up daisies and dirt."

"This isn't good," I said. "It sounds like—"

"Did you say Barbara Steele?" interrupted Zombos.

"Yeah, ya know that sultry knockout horror dame. I know they often dubbed her voice in those eye-talian movies, but that voice made me think of her. Just watched Black Sunday last night, too."

"Now's not the time to discuss—"

"Oh, right, The Mask of Satan, also known as Black Sunday. I say, a capital Italian Gothic horror movie," said Zombos. "In fact, we were just discussing Barbara Steele in Castle of Blood before we found you. Good thing we did—find you, that is."

"Speaking of Mario Bava's evil witchcraft-laced Black Sunday," continued Zombos, "I am simply amazed at his use of rolling camera work and cobwebbed framing to create a modestly budgeted masterpiece of the supernatural. It is the quintessential Italian Gothic. The movie is a licorice and vanilla confection, filled with sugary, gamboling fog, bitter, dark chocolate forests stuffed with dead trees whose crunchy branches clutch at unwary travelers, and landscapes overflowing with the cream of foreboding."

I looked at Zombos. Curly Joe looked at Zombos. I leaned against the slimy brick wall and tried to make myself as comfortable as possible: we were going to be there for a while.

 

Whenever you have a large muscular, sweaty guy heating up a branding iron in a brazier, other hooded guys holding smoking torches, and no marshmallows or guitars in sight, you know something evil is afoot. Princess Asa (Barbara Steele) has been a naughty witch and vampire, and her relatives have called this little crisis-intervention to hammer some sense into that beautiful, but evil head of hers. She'd rather they didn't do the hammering with that wicked, multi-spike bronze mask, of course, but family never listens, right? That chilling close-up of the inside of the mask, with all those long, sharp spikes, doesn't thrill her, either.

As the big muscular guy walks over with a hammer that would put Mjolnir to shame, the mask is held over her terrified face. Her accomplice, Javutich (the naturally creepy-looking Arturo Dominici is back again), already had his facial so he's enjoying the snooze of the damned. She, understandably, curses everybody in sight before the mask is pounded down with verve, sending blood sprays out around its edges. For the 1960s this was strong stuff, even after clipping some minutes for the American market.

Two-hundred years later, her curse is about to descend on her descendants as two travelers— the usual academic men-of-science who are also quite clumsy—stumble on her tomb and unwittingly release her vengeful spirit.

Where would horror movies be without them?

Making their way through the dark, mist-shrouded forest, a wheel pops off the coach. To kill time while the coachman attends to the ‘flat,’ they explore the surrounding woods and come across the ruins of an old church and cemetery. Dr. Gorobec (John Richardson) and Dr. Kruvajan (Andrea Checchi) find Asa's tomb and dutifully remove all the protections that have locked her undying spirit in her crypt for two centuries in their examination of it. The scenes of the church ruins, the cemetery, and the crypt are scened like illustrations in a child's sinister fairy tale. They are surprisingly ‘literary,’ effectively dismal, and eerie as the rim of the somber sky merges into the bleak forest. When the two doctors enter the crypt, the camera swings three-sixty to highlight the decay, cobwebs, and charnel artifacts of her abandoned resting place, bringing out every decrepit nook and cranny to perfection before returning to them.

Before leaving, Dr. Kruvajan makes sure to cut his hand and bleed over the princess' exposed corpse, releasing drops of blood that will start her revivification. Mario Bava's practical use of special effect lighting makes the transformation of the putrid corpse to voluptuous witch-woman—even with those large holes in her face—a morbid delight to watch. Egg yolks, rice, and lighting filters to highlight different colored makeup layers on her face create an inexpensive but highly effective transformation. A similar process was used on Frederick March in Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde for his startling change into the amoral Hyde using color makeups, undetectable in a black and white movie.

The beautiful Katia (Barbara Steele in a dual role) greets the two doctors as they exit the tomb. Bearing a striking resemblance to her ancestor, Asa, she will become the target for the evil witch's rebirth. Cue the romantic music first, however, as Dr. Gorobec immediately takes a fancy to her. In no time at all, the evil Asa revives her cohort, Vivutich, and begins her plan of revenge.

Her first order of business is to frighten the life out of the current prince, Katia's father, who holds title to the family castle, then lure Dr. Kruvajan to her and wring the rest of his blood from him. With them under her control she will possess the body of Katia. While she's still reviving in her tomb she sends Vivutich to do her dirty work.

The attack on the prince (Ivo Garanni), Katia’s father, begins with the large fireplace opening to reveal a secret passageway to Princess Asa's tomb. The spectral presence of Vivutich charges forth, knocking down the suits of armor lining the hallway as he invisibly makes his way up to the bedroom where the cowering prince waits in dread for the evil by night. The prince wards off the attack with a crucifix, but he's driven nearly insane by the encounter.

Next, in dreamlike slow-motion, Vivutich races through the mist-choked forest in a black rococo-styled coach to bring Dr. Kruvajan to Asa. The good doctor falls into the trap, and after a bumpy coach ride, he is led, unknowingly, through the castle and the secret passageway, back into the tomb where it all started. This sequence, with Vivutich leading the way holding a lantern, from beginning to end, encapsulates the gloominess of Gothic horror with its stark black and white imagery depicting the eldritch tableau, with Dr. Kruvajan running to catch up only to find the lantern no longer held by Vivutich, but hovering in mid-air as the door to Asa's tomb slowly opens. Kruvajan never knew what hit him.

Princess Asa executes her final plan of conquest. The castle is overrun with evil as servants are killed and Dr. Gorobec and Katia's brother square off against Vivutich in a final confrontation involving a big nasty hole in the floor. Meanwhile, Katia is lured to and trapped in the witch's tomb, while angry villagers, in grand Universal Studios horror tradition, light the torches and storm the castle to confront the evil in their midst.

 

"I say, what is that?" asked Zombos.

"What?" I said.

"There, at your feet." Zombos pointed. A little opening had appeared where I was leaning against the wall. My shoulder must have pressed some hidden mechanism.

He shone his flashlight into the opening. I reached in and pulled out a wooden box. I opened it.

"How odd. They are tap dancing shoes," said Zombos, holding up the pair of shiny black shoes. "They look like my size. I do not know why, but I simply must try them on."

"Wait a minute," I said. "Didn't you see Red Shoes?" He didn't listen.

"Incredible. They are absolutely comfortable. I almost feel like I could tap dance forever in them. I have always wanted to tap dance, you know, ever since I was a little boy. Father would have none of it."

His right foot started first, then his left, and pretty soon he was doing a paddle and roll.

"I thought you said you didn't know how to tap dance?"

"I do not!" Zombos was now doing the shim sham shimmy.

"You better take those off."

"I cannot! I cannot stop myself!"

I motioned to Curly Joe to grab him around the arms while I reached for his shoes, but Zombos was already shuffling down the tunnel to the Susquehanna three-step before I could untie them.

"Zoc, Zoc, stop these crazy things!" he cried as he disappeared into the distance.

Curly Joe and I looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders, and raced after him.

Part 3

Tap Dancing to Hell and a Pot o'Gold Part 1 The Living and the Dead Castle of Blood (1964)

Zombos Says: Very Good

"More hot chocolate please," I said to Chef Machiavelli.

He put down the large and very sharp looking knife he was using to fillet the eel for his incredible eel livornese and refilled my cup. His hot chocolate is exquisite; filled with little lumps of white vanilla, a little anisette, and lots of dark, sweet chocolate. It's the perfect warmer-upper. I was sitting in the kitchen waiting for the plumber to find the problem with our recalcitrant boiler. He was sure taking his time.

"I will take a cup, too," said Zombos joining us to bask in the warmth coming from the brick oven. "I wonder what's taking the plumber so long."

"You did give him the map?" I asked.

"Yes, of course. I do not want to lose another plumber down there. They are skittish as it is. Lucky for us this fellow is new." He sipped his hot chocolate.

It was so hard trying to get plumbers to come out to the mansion; even harder keeping them once they saw our basement. The labyrinthine passages and rooms below us would give even Erik, the poor suffering Phantom of the Paris Opera, a run for his money.

While we waited, I looked at the long, gleaming knife Chef Machiavelli was using. I found it fascinating that a sharp implement can slice through atoms and molecules, severing their tenuous connections so easily—and the whole concept of self-sharpening was beyond me.

"How is the time doing?" asked Zombos.

We looked at our watches.

"Merda!" cursed Chef Machiavelli. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his eel-skin wallet. He handed Zombos five dollars.

"I'm still good," I said as Zombos tucked the fiver into his shirt pocket with a grin.

"We will see about that," he said.

We had placed bets on when the plumber would be done and Chef Machiavelli's chosen time had passed. I was still on target, though. I crossed my fingers. I really hate losing a bet to Zombos: he was rich enough.

"This wagering reminds me of that horror movie, Castle of Blood, where the journalist bets he can stay in a haunted castle for the night," I said.

"I remember that movie." Zombos sipped his hot chocolate. "Barbara Steele is in it."

"Yes, and gamboling fog as the journalist enters the Poor Devil Inn—how apropos," I continued. "When he comes upon the table where Edgar Allan Poe (Silvano Tranquilli) and the owner of the haunted castle are discussing the reality of the supernatural, he can't help but listen and take the wager of staying overnight in that place where no one has survived the stay. Soon they're off to the castle and the journalist's misadventure with the undead begins."

 

Early Italian supernatural horror movies are often atmospheric and filled with dread, from the music to the melodramatic storyline, and Antonio Margheritti directs Castle of Blood with classic Gothic imagery in vivid black and white to increase the menace.

Arriving at the castle, the stalwart journalist Alan Foster (Georges Riviére), a man of reason and science, is about to have his wits reshuffled. Bad enough he has to spend a night in a decaying castle on All Soul's Eve, but after pushing his way through the tall wrought iron gate, he has to walk through an overgrown and fog-filled cemetery to make his way to the castle entrance.

What the hell is that black cat doing jumping in between the tombstones?

Playful black cats in cemeteries in the dead of night are always unsettling. The movie hasn't kicked quite into gear yet and already my pants would be flying through the air and out the gate--with me in them.

Foster continues onward and pokes around in the empty horse stable for a few minutes. Riz Ortolani's music rises and falls in strident tones from somber, foreboding strings as Foster methodically makes his way through the cemetery, the stable, and eventually into the castle. In this opening sequence, the Gothic images of death, bad luck, and wind-tossed barren tree branches merge into a dark, spook show chiaroscuro.

Ignoring all these dire portents, he finds a taper, lights it, and boldly proceeds up the front steps into the dark recesses of the castle. Doffing his cape and lighting candles, he begins to explore. The absence of music as he walks through the rooms allows his footsteps to be heard, accentuating his aloneness.

Suddenly the grandmother clock—its pendulum unmoving—chimes the half-hour before midnight. He goes to investigate and is puzzled to find no movement or ticking sound from the clock. The sounds of a party coming from the other room draw his attention, but he finds only an empty room with a dust-covered clavichord. He lights more candles. Yeah, I'd light more candles, too, at this point.

He tickles the keys on the clavichord. Why does everyone in a haunted house or spooky castle movie always insist on playing the cobwebbed piano or organ, or clavichord in this case, after some phantom melody plays? Elizabeth’s (Barbara Steele) hand on his shoulder startles him. Here begins the true art of the Italian ghost story movie: the soap-opera relationships and bawdy entanglements leading to sinister and tragic events.

She tells him about her brother, the man he wagered with, and why her brother does it—to make sure she has a companion for one night out of the year. She, apparently, is "looking for happiness with the man I love." Foster falls for her seductive charms hook, line, and sinker, then Julia (Margarete Robsahm) shows up. The women start fighting over him, so he retires to a bedroom, wondering at his newfound popularity with dead women.

Of course, he doesn't know they're dead until Elizabeth sneaks into his room and they start kissing passionately while Julia steams outside, listening to their ardor. When Foster can't find a heartbeat, Elizabeth let's him in on the secret: she's dead and has been for ten years. Before it all registers, Herbert, the strapping beefcake stable boy barges in and stabs Elizabeth to death. Foster whips out his pistol (shame on you for thinking that!) and shoots Herbert dead. The stiff upper lip of the journalist finally starts to tremble as he blinks and finds himself alone again, with no bodies sprawled on the bedroom floor. Frantically searching for Elizabeth he runs into Doctor Carmus (Arturo Dominici).

Carmus tells Foster about death and dying and the restless spirits of the castle: Elizabeth, Julia and Herbert. We and Foster see events replay themselves, revealing the macabre dance of death that has doomed the castle's over-heated ghosts to walk its empty hallways for one night every year.

Now take a deep breath. Ready? Here we go.

Herbert and Elizabeth had a love affair going on while Elizabeth's husband was away. When he returned, she told Herbert they couldn’t see each other anymore. He gets mad and tries to murder Elizabeth and her husband while they're making love. Julia barges in and murders him before he can kill Elizabeth. With two male bodies on the floor, Julia puts the moves on Elizabeth, prompting Elizabeth, who’s also been doing a little dallying with Julia, to end that relationship abruptly. Three bodies are now sprawled on the floor, but there’s still one more to go.

Doctor Carmus tells Foster he must escape before the sun rises, otherwise the dead in the castle will feast on his "fountain" of blood so they can spend another night viva la dead loco. Elizabeth, who started this whole mess, wants to help him escape. She rushes to Foster's side as the others try to trap him in Herbert's crypt, with the deadly ghosts appearing from mist entering through the gap between the locked crypt door and the floor. Will Foster escape? I wouldn’t bet on it if I were you.

 

"I say," said Zombos, "it is getting rather late. We better go find that plumber and make sure he has not gotten himself lost."

We grabbed flashlights from the cupboard. The basement lighting was terrible in some spots. Chef Machiavelli grabbed his biggest, sharpest knife.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"Molti ratti," he replied, swinging the knife up and down.

Zombos looked at me. We looked at Chef Machiavelli.

"You go first," we said together.

Part 2 

Movie Review: The Abandoned (2006) Ghostly Evil In a Haunted Forest

Zombos Says: Good

Russian horror movies are a lot like those matryoshka wooden nesting dolls: the horror is nested deep within cultural metaphors that quickly open up, again and again, to reveal an allegory at its heart. I'm not very good with allegory. Looking over my notes for the The Abandoned I have 'Why?' jotted down a few times. That's not to say these are bad in this case. It just means I'm not good with allegory—or metaphors for that matter.

Even if you're not good with metaphor and allegory either, director Nacho Cerda and writer Karim Hussain unfold an intricate and unrelenting story that looks like a ghost story until it opens to reveal something else. Inside this ghost story is another story about a wicked house deep in a dark, evil forest surrounded by water—looks like a metaphor to me. Inside the evil house are creepy, white-eyed ghosts—heavy on the metaphors, maybe toss in a little allegory here also. There is also a locked door in the flooded basement. Something waits behind it to be freed at the stroke of midnight on her birthday. But what is it and why?

"It is not a Russian horror movie," said Zombos, derailing the caboose in my train of thought.

"What?"

"Director and co-writer, Nacho Cerda, that's not a Russian name. Cerda is a Spanish director. Did that controversial movie, Aftermath, back in 94." Zombos flipped to the next page in his magazine and crossed his legs.

"But it was shown in—"

"In Bulgaria, not Russia." He turned another page.

"Even so," I thought out loud, "there are Russian actors, art directors, production and second unit directors involved. And Spanish horror often is filled with metaphors and allegory. Just look at Del Toro's The Devil's Backbone, or even Pan's Labyrinth. I think my use of the matryoska dolls simile is still valid."

Zombos looked up at me. "And those insufferable Higglytown Heroes are matryoska dolls, too. Why not use them, then?" He crossed his legs in reverse and flipped another page.

I was beginning to hate multi-nationally produced horror movies.

As I pondered where I was going with all this, I watched the rain spatter across the library's windows. My mind filled with images of Twinkle and Eubie being chased by ghosts in a dark and decrepit Higglytown Town Hall. Perhaps I should tackle this review using a different perspective?

That's it! Perspective!

From the perspective of Marie (Anastasia Hille), who travels to her family home after forty years of not knowing anything about it or her biological parents, this soon becomes a journey of frightening discoveries. The opening scenes, filled with rolling camera views, close-ups of frightened faces, and beautiful, but ominous storm-filled landscapes, show the bloody tragedy leading to her adoption.

Now she returns to Russia, reluctantly looking for answers about her past, and not fully sure why she's bothering to find out. She heads to the countryside and hires transportation to take her to her family's home, deep in the woods. The only way to get to it is over a bridge as it's completely surrounded by water.

More metaphor, perhaps?

If that weren't foreboding enough, the superstitious country-folk also think the land is cursed. One blind old woman tries to keep her from going, tugging on her arm and pleading with her in Russian. I thought back to how Renfield ignored the same warning in Dracula and headed to his doom.

Anatoliy (Carlos Reig-Plaza), the truck driver taking her deep into the woods to "the island" where her parent's home quietly decays, is gruffly laconic and full of foreboding stares and glares. Driving for hours, he stops the truck in the dead of night, in the middle of nowhere, and leaves her alone as he disappears into the forest, mumbling something about going on ahead. Yes. Alone in that forest; the cursed one filled with eerie sounds and odd shadows darting in and out of her sight range. Of course Marie jumps out of the truck to go find the errant truck driver, in the dead of night in the middle of nowhere IN THAT SPOOKY FOREST and right after the truck radio DIES OUT; but not before playing something that sounds awfully like the words 'Satan will eat you alive' played backwards in a kind of freaky static choking way, ending in silence.

Using the flashlight she rummaged from the truck, she makes her way to the house. Once inside, the sounds of a child crying and odd rustling, beautifully enhanced by music, lead her upstairs. Someone keeps walking around, just out of her sight. She finds a zombie-like, blanched-eye doppelganger, dripping wet, who attacks her.

But why?

Water and fish metaphors abound as she's knocked senseless and wakes up to find another person, her brother, in the house.

As siblings are prone to do, she knocks him senseless, but when he comes to, they explore the house together, especially the locked door in the basement from which her brother, Nicolai (Karel Roden), heard moaning. Both realize they've been lured back to the family homestead by an evil presence. Why? Who or what is behind all this? And why does the house seem to be alive?

The Abandoned is a perplexing and demanding horror movie. The cinematography, acting, makeup, and special effects combine to create a surprising experience from a modestly budgeted movie. While the story lags a bit in the middle, as brother and sister explore their situation, the denouement is chilling. Like those nested wooden dolls, it looks like a horror movie on the outside, but when you start to open it up you will find a ghost story within a haunted house story within an evil in the forest primeval story. And even then, much remains unanswered, leaving you wondering why and perhaps a little scared, too.