The Horrible Horror Vault: The one that's the other best horror reboot

 

 

Title: Evil Dead

What Year?: 2013

Classification: Weird Sequel

Rating: That’s Good! (4/4)

 

As I write this, I’ve been debating what do for an off-week post while trying to maintain a ludicrous output for another project. After going through several promising contenders, I decided to investigate some recent chatter. That brought me back to something I had thought about reviewing for quite a while. It also brings me into territory that was already opening up once I reactivated this feature, the “modern” horror reboot, which has long since become synonymous with the most hated trends in modern genre films. Just to be contrarian, I’ll be taking on an entry in one of the most infamous and iconic franchises of all time. Here is Evil Dead, 2013 edition, and it is… really, really good???

Our story begins with a young girl captured by yokels who believe she is possessed by a demon. We then jump to the beginning of another story as we meet Mia, a young lady on her way to a cabin with her brother and her friends as part of her recovery from substance abuse. The friends soon warn the brother that Mia has already had to be resuscitated after an overdose, and this intervention must be hardcore. But the group discover signs that someone has been using the cabin, including a book with dire warnings scribbled in not to ever, ever read from it. Naturally, the smart guy of the group manages to disobey. As Mia gets wired, strange visions appear. As her madness begins to spread to the others, it becomes clear that there is a supernatural force in their midst, and the darkest secrets are what they brought with them. It’s up to Mia and the brother to defeat their literal and metaphorical demons, before Hell arrives on Earth!

Evil Dead was a 2013 horror/ dark fantasy film directed and cowritten by Fede Alvarez, developed as a reboot of the 1981 film and franchise created by Sam Raimi (see Darkman). The film reportedly entered production in 2011, with Raimi and star Bruce Campbell credited as producers. The film starred Jane Levy as Mia, with Shiloh Fernandez as the brother David. Effects for the production used a reported 70,000 gallons of fake blood, mainly for the rain of blood in the finale, breaking a record previously set by Dead Alive. The film was released by Sony in April 2013. It was a commercial success, earning $97.5 million against a $17M budget, and received largely favorable reviews. Alvarez followed the film with Don’t Breathe, also starring Levy, in 2016. A TV series Ash Vs. The Evil Dead, starring Campbell and directly following the first two films, aired on Starz from 2015 to 2018. In 2023, a new film Evil Dead Rise was released, which did not directly follow or reference any prior films.

For my experiences, what really popped into my mind going into this is that remakes and reboots are usually the kind of film that go over my radar. The further irony is that the relative few I have dealt with are easily among the best movies I have ever reviewed. In the process, I have ended up giving a reasonably comprehensive survey of the different approaches to remakes. Night of the Living Dead gave a straight do-over of the original film, with a bigger budget and a few twists to reflect changes in society at large. The Thing, by now the most revered in the whole category, went back to the pulp source material for what became a readaptation as much as a remake. In the middle, you have the 1980s The Blob and Invaders From Mars (which I now must admit belonged on my “best” list), which kept the essential concepts with plenty of updates for effects, production values and politics. By comparison with these, most of the modern remake/ reboot waves objectively reach no more or less than the proverbial high standard of mediocrity. The real result is a certainly frustrating glut of films that are simply too unambitious either to inspire or offend. The present film stands as the outlier that did something different, and that is just the beginning of why it is by far the best of an iffy lot.

Moving forward, I will add as I usually would have already that I saw this in the theater, pretty much at its opening. (Yes, I also just saw the new one, but I don’t want to talk about that one yet.) What was jarring at the outset was that it almost entirely removed the humor of the franchise, something I would have said was so essential that a film without it might as well be marketed as completely separate. In fact, what emerges from under the one-liners and splatstick is an allegory of madness, grief and redemption. I must say as a further rant that it also highlighted a counterintuitively conventional spirituality that was there all along. In the midst of the secular nihilism of the slasher era, the original films offered admittedly imperfect good against absolute supernatural evil. (I will get back to that…) The further step of making the demonic forces into a symbol of addiction and familial dysfunction was perhaps not the best or even the most original move, but it makes for a film that at a minimum has something to say. That, in turn, builds to a jaw-dropping payoff with the literally Biblical finale.

Then there are the “Deadites” themselves, which have no name here. What’s most noteworthy is that they are made far more vulnerable than their earlier counterparts, without being any less terrifying. These are true demoniacs, and as such can be permanently neutralized by the things that would kill a normal human. At the same time, the prominent role of bodily fluids gives a biological logic that supports lends itself to alternative semi-scientific explanations discussed in the film, at least for a while. The limitations of mortality are more than made up for by their utter savagery and a further penchant for self-mutilation that had not appeared in the franchise before. The most intriguing result is a genuinely two-sided escalation in brutality as the uninfected defend themselves by increasingly desperate means. Another emerging subtext is an emphasis on violence by women against men and each other, which somewhat eases the especially uncomfortable sexualization of the first film. The difference shows especially in the direct remake of the most infamous scene of the franchise to represent the possession of Mia by the slimy spawn of the Abomination. Things are toned down enough to give the feel of the symbolic, and perhaps debate the reality of the events within the film’s own universe, but the implications remain clear and brutal.

Now for the one scene, I am giving honorable mention to what was really my first choice, the smart guy reading the possession spells, which stands out as a notable remnant of the humor of this odd franchise. But I couldn’t avoid a scene that has stood out from the beginning, the first possession besides Mia’s. After the main character’s first freakout, the one character with medical training (played strikingly by Jessica Lucas from Cloverfield) runs for supplies while still covered in gunk of uncertain composition. After a few moments of conversation, we find her in a bathroom trying in vain to clean up. She finally gets out a fateful syringe and a container of medicine. The door slams shut, and she sees her own face, grinning and mutilated, before the mirror shatters. As more creepy sights builds up, she starts to withdraw into another room, further from the group. That’s when she freezes literally in her tracks, an action that feels as violent as any number of the many convulsions before and since. Then the camera zooms in on her legs, and we see another fluid trickling. It’s a subtle detail, yet brutal (and borderline misogynistic) in its implications, and it’s everything one would expect from an Evil Dead film.

In closing, what I wanted to close with is what made the Evil Dead franchise great to begin with, something that figured very much in my reactions to the latest installment. What set it apart from the first film onward was its humor. I would argue that what made it last (especially from Evil Dead 2 onward) was its underlying optimism about human nature. This is a series that says you can be weak, fallible and outright cowardly, but still have a chance as a champion of good, and if the cosmic forces of evil take your hand, replace it with a chainsaw. I posit further that this is exactly where the present film got the point of the original and ran with it all the way. For me, that’s more than enough to get it the highest rating, and that’s where I’m fine ending it. Hail to the king!

Robot Revolution: The one that's the worst Alien movie

 

 

Title: Alien: Resurrection

What Year?: 1997

Classification: Weird Sequel

Rating: It’s Okay! (3/4)

 

With this review, I’m continuing my survey of robot movies, and after Willy’s Wonderland, I decided to do one more movie that I have been simply looking for an opening to review. As I have regularly commented, there are many movies that are simply “above the radar” for what I do, especially when it comes to franchises. I have worked around this rule when it comes to sequels, especially of the controversial and obscure variety. Even so, there is one franchise that I have still never featured, despite discussing it regularly since my second review. (Yeah, Inseminoid, you all owe me.) That ends now, and while I’m at it, I’m going to talk about why this monster franchise is also a big part of the history of robot cinema. I present Alien: Resurrection, and yes, it is not great. But, it can be a whole lot of fun.

Our story begins in deep space, where a secret government project has resurrected both the Alien and Ellen Ripley. They are both put under the care of one of the maddest mad scientists in history, who still hasn’t considered that if you need a host for a dangerous parasitoid, a dog or a pig should work as well as a human. Enter a crew of space pirates with a crop of kidnapped workers in suspended animation, who will never discuss the ethics of this again. The aliens spawn faster than usual, while the nosiest of the pirates connects with the clone of Ripley, now a hybrid of human and xenomorph. Alas, the aliens escape, with literally no opposition from the military crew, leaving the pirates and the Ali-Ellen trapped on board with the aliens. They must fight their way to an escape craft with the help of the least trustworthy of the remaining staff. But one of the renegades is not what he/ she/ it seems, and the queen is about to give birth to a brand new abomination!

Alien: Resurrection was a 1997 science fiction/ horror film from Fox and Brandywine Pictures. It was the fourth film in the Alien franchise created by Dan O’Bannon, developed after the character of Ellen Ripley was killed at the insistence of Sigourney Weaver in Alien 3. (Yeah, still thinking about that one.) The film was directed by French director Jean-Pierre Jeunet from a script by Joss Whedon. Weaver returned as the clone of Ripley, with Winona Ryder as Call and Brad Dourif as the mad doctor. Other cast included Ron Perlman (see Island of Dr. Moreau) as the pirate Johner and Leland Orser of Saving Private Ryan (yes, I recognized him) as the infected Purvis. The film was a commercial success, earning a box office of over $161 million against a $70 million budget. Jeunet returned to filmmaking in France, notably with the romantic comedy Amelie in 2001. The Alien franchise was not revived again until Alien Vs. Predator in 2004, which Weaver had refused to appear in prior to the release of Alien 3. Alien: Resurrection remains the final film in chronological order with Alien.

For my experiences, the Alien franchise was one more thing that I only got into at a ludicrously late date, which didn’t stop me from falling in deep. In all that time, my longest-running rant has been that I simply don’t believe in “canon” as applicable to the franchise (see, if anything, my review of Contamination). A big part of this is what Fox brought on themselves by dragging Alien 3 through development Hell just to turn out the most divisive entry in the entire franchise. But it’s also what I consider to be the best use of the franchise and creature: Keep the xenomorph, the universe and a few core characters, then let each creator do what they want. This has made me tolerant. I can take Alien, Aliens, Dark Horse, AVP, and even Alien 3 all in their place. The one thing I don’t like is being told that one entry in this vast mythos has to be accepted at the expense of any other, which has really happened only once. By comparison, the present film is the closest we ever got to an “official” film that embraced my own view of the franchise, and I have no qualms saying that what works bears out my point.

Moving forward, what can really be said about this movie is everything good and bad about the franchise, dialed up exponentially. Yes, the Aliens get as much plot armor as any of the human characters. Yes, the ship design is willfully useless. Yes, the characters repeatedly make stupid decisions for the benefit of the plot. But these are egregious for the franchise, not unique, and there are plenty of good points here, particularly a character actor-heavy cast that is well above average. Perlman and Dourif in particular are in top scenery-stomping form, somehow actually matched by Weaver. The Aliens, too, reach a surreal peak. The fine cinematography brings out the calculating menace of the creatures, and there’s real pathos from the final hybrid abomination. My pick for the two best shots in the movie are the intimate closeup of two preparing to dispatch a third (why did only Dark Horse ever think of making a cage out of dead Aliens?) and the CGI effect of a pair under water, not flailing but holding their arms at their sides for a torpedo profile. At peak momentum, this feels like either a live-action Dark Horse comic or what might have been if Roger Corman had made the first movie. (Old rant, yes, Galaxy of Terror was a rip-off, but Fox did kind of rip Corman off first…)

Then there is the robot angle. While the franchise has always been known for its title creature, it has always featured creative artificial intelligence, and this film in particular, the concepts are both developed and varied. On one hand, the ship’s computer “Father” is a fitting successor to the ship computer in the first film (really already there in Dark Star). The unobtrusive details of the ship’s functions gives a picture of decentralized artificial intelligence that is in many ways is more convincing now. Then there is (spoiler) Ryder as the android, powered by the still-unexplained gooey semi-organic tech. If anything, her character and arc is the one element that was clearly intended to be more than it is, an occupational hazard with a cast and story this bonkers. Still, she does have a part to play that becomes greater as her capabilities are revealed. It’s all the more intriguing to compare her with Ash and Bishop from the previous films. The earlier bots turned in some of the most memorable moments of the franchise, but they did not fundamentally challenge the role of the robot as either antagonist or subservient helper. Here, we truly have an AI with its (?) own agenda, with all the nuances and paradoxes that implies. There’s an extra layer of retrospective fascination in small details of behavior that don’t serve what we learn of her higher purposes. My personal favorite, by all means due for honorable mention as “one scene”, is an attempt to pick things up while wearing boxing gloves, with absolutely no pressure or encouragement from anyone else. It is a truly random moment, and that is exactly what makes a character interesting, AI or not.

That leaves the “one scene”, and I’m going with the one that has fascinated me for a very long time. As the inevitable escape unfolds, we find the military complement of the research ship running away, not only without firing a shot but seemingly without their guns. The troops at least line up to board the life pods in good order, overseen by the designated military man played by Dan Hedaya, if anything one of the more subdued of the character actors on hand. We get a good look at the pods, which have iris hatches and nifty retracting ladders. We see one or two on their way before an Alien comes into the frame, apparently still at some distance from the pod currently loading. We see the last guy climb in, then cut to the exterior, to find that the CGI-rendered creature has already reached the hatch. What follows is a stylized exterior view of the carnage (wait, is this referencing O’Bannon’s “B-17” segment in Heavy Metal?), culminating in the same unlucky guy trying frantically to get out. The commander shows no emotion as he sends a grenade clattering on the deck, shown with one of several very odd Rube Goldberg action/ reaction slow-motion shots. The pod ejects, just before exploding. That’s when we cut to the commander saluting his subordinate, without looking back at what’s coming. It may sound absurd in cold blood, and it is, but it’s a striking example of what makes the film actually work.

In closing, what I come back to is how I would rank not just this film but the franchise as a whole. When it comes to the first film and its original sequel, I have always punted. They are both excellent, yet at the same time too fundamentally different for direct comparison. By further comparison, the present film and Alien 3 are each flawed in their own ways, and by any standard outside of effects and action sequences, this one is far inferior. What makes the difference to me is that I find it to be the one entry that truly lets you take it or leave it. On top of its internal insanity, it sets itself far enough ahead that the events of the preceding films become more like legends and myth than “fact”. In this context, you could just as well say that this is a comic book or video game within the Alien/ Aliens cinematic universe, and its relative merits would be no less. Per my standard rants, this was in fact an acceptable “norm” well into the modern era of franchise genre films. I still stand by it as a valid alternative to the canon overanalysis people have become used to. With that, I can say that I have finally covered one more iconic franchise. That’s enough for one day. “Punch it, Bishop!”

Futures Past: "It's A Good Life" classic sci fi/ horror/ fantasy story

 As I write this, it’s the middle of the week, and I’ve been wavering between a number of different ideas what to do. I finally decided it was time to do something different, which was when I remembered I already had this, a post I hadn’t finished. I have recently been on a Twilight Zone binge, which ultimately included a review of the 1980s movie. Another resulting tangent was a reread of the story that was the basis for one of the most famous TZ episodes of all, “It’s A Good Life” by Jerome Bixby, the tale of a town held hostage by one Anthony Freeman, a child with the powers of a god. To accompany my review, I posted a few thoughts on the story in a newsgroup. With this post, I’m expanding this into a true essay.

The main thing I decided was worth writing about further is my personal experience with both the episode and the story. I saw the episode at a very early date, possibly about as soon as I had access to a TV. As I commented in the review of the movie, at that time, Twilight Zone still had a huge footprint. It aired regularly on weekend and daytime TV, plus the “marathons” that usually cropped up once or twice a year. There was also plenty of associated media, which would soon include parodies on the Simpsons Treehouse of Horror, not to mention the 1980s revival. Of course, the episode made a strong impression on me. That still leads to one of my specific memories of the franchise: At age 10 or 11, I recounted the episode to an older family friend who said he hadn’t watched the show. When I described the ending, he said he could picture it all.

It was a while later that I read the story, in hindsight after I must have read several other stories by the author. I probably first ran across it in the Science Fiction Hall Of Fame, which I believe may have been the only time I read it before my recent reread. It did stay in my mind as it continued to turn up in other anthologies I read or collected, including a collection from Frederick Pohl’s Star anthology series where the story first appeared. More recently, it has apparently slipped into public domain, leading to a number of postings of the full texts as well as a variety of readings and adaptations. Then and now, it fit my impressions of the writer before and since: Competent, polished, and creatively subversive, yet ultimately, deceptively unremarkable. My further and strongest impression was that the story is a very different and far more unsettling experience than the TV episode, even though the adaptation is among the most faithful on record.

Coming to the story, what can easily derail any further analysis is how to classify this very odd beast. It’s really science fiction only in the sense that it was first appeared in a genre publication, and then in an anthology format that offered far greater flexibility. “Dark fantasy” would be a better fit, yet still imperfect. The most obvious answer is to call it supernatural horror, notably at a historical low point when Weird Tales was a few years from extinction and only comics like Tales From The Crypt were moving in to replace it (one more important datum on how this ended up in an SF publication). To me, the best fit is “regional” fiction, especially in terms of the polished “mainstream” realism that is prominent both here and in the whole of the author’s body of work. (“Our Town”, which has turned up on public-domain sites, is if possible an even more horrific case in point.) What’s striking is that the story becomes even more jarring and perverse considered in these terms. In place of amiable stereotypes and idealized everymen, we have people who by all indications were in miserable poverty even before the actual demigod showed up. I find myself wondering if the author’s whole career amounted to jumping the fence of a field that had become even more hidebound and moralizing than science fiction had been in the 1930s.

Finally coming to the story itself, my first and central observation is that the scenario is so brutal that the only conclusion to be made is that these people are simply doomed. In the story, Anthony is only three, and has possessed his powers literally from birth. There are already fewer than 50 people left alive in the town, including less than 20 children. While no corresponding figure is given for the population pre-Anthony, the number of referenced and implied deaths (one from apparently natural causes) is surely in the double digits and very possibly in the hundreds. Thus, the few survivors who remain are most likely less than half the original population, and it will become clear that those who remain have not gotten any better at staying alive. On top of that, it seems very possible that Anthony may actually grow more powerful with age.

Meanwhile, what may prove especially jarring in comparison to the TZ treatment is that Anthony is treated quite sympathetically. Much of the story is for all intents and purposes from his point of view, and in his perceptions, the world of the story is one of wonder and ethereal beauty. It is especially intriguing to see an idyllic pond he has created for the town’s wildlife. Of course, even here, there are punishments meted out and a casualty from simple absentmindedness. This ultimately provides key context for the greatest horror of the tale: Anthony really wants to be a benefactor to the townspeople as he is to the animals, in exchange for the same simple-minded gratitude. The actual result is that his attempts to “help” terrify the townspeople even more than his sometimes justified outbursts of anger. This is illustrated early on by an ominously vague account of Anthony bringing a grieving widow’s husband back to life.

A fair amount has already been said about strong insinuations that Anthony isn't fully human in appearance, which culminate in a brief and grisly recounting of his birth. It's made explicit in the process that he has had his powers from birth. What I found most jarring, especially compared to the show and the movie, is that he only speaks once in the entire story, and then literally 2 words. This actually fits with his age as given in the story, with the surely intended implication that he could actually grow more powerful with time. One more especially striking difference from the TV and movie adaptations is that Anthony is actively sadistic rather than merely disproportionate in retaliation, notably compelling a rat to "eat itself" in the first scene. This gives a whole new element of horror, but to me, it actually makes the story feel significantly more routine. Unromanticized depictions of childhood were fairly common in and outside science fiction in the 1950s, which makes this story simply part of a trend. (However, it’s noteworthy that it was published a little before Golding’s Lord of the Flies.) What I found odd is that nothing more is made of this in the story as a whole, which ultimately makes a missed opportunity to challenge perceptions of “normal” behavior.

Something else I felt worth discussing are two characters in both the story and the episode, Aunt Amy and Dan Hollis. Amy is described at the outset as the victim of Anthony’s outbursts, which left her alive yet all but destroyed mentally. What becomes quite disconcerting is that she actually acts more “normal” than anyone else, and even gets away with complaining far more than anyone else. As a further nuance, it’s mentioned that Anthony might restore her to her former self once he better understands his actions, which of course only brings up still more horrifying possibilities. By further comparison, Hollis as the single human victim whose fate is shown in the story is far more obnoxious and ignominiously dispatched. At the party in his honor, he gets drunk and genuinely acts like a jerk to everyone present. The most striking difference is that he doesn't even get the benefit of the defiant, arguably heroic speech to Anthony that made the episode’s searing ending. Instead, he doesn’t even realize Anthony is there until it is clearly too late, then barely gets off a word before he's transformed into an undescribed abomination.

The greatest horror of the story ultimately lies in its most striking point of ambiguity, whether Anthony can simply bring people back to life. It’s already up in the air whether Anthony has isolated the town from the world or destroyed everything else, a point that works far better in the printed story. The further and increasingly strong implication is that this is for all intents and purposes a world of Anthony’s creation, and there is ample reason to consider whether the people are likewise his warped handiwork. As noted, we find out early that Anthony has tried to bring one person back to life, however imperfectly. Therefore, it is certainly possible that those who have survived are alive by his whim. The limited, already terrifying scenario (mentioned by others but not stated to my satisfaction) is that there are people the child demigod will not allow to die. The maximized interpretation is that those who think they have been spared have really already been killed and resurrected an indefinite number of times, very possibly remade each time even more according to his warped perception. An extra detail that fits far too well is Anthony’s “television” night, which the story portrays as entirely incomprehensible sounds and images- not “real” TV, but perhaps a child’s perception and idea of TV.

In conclusion, what I find after going through this is that I am conflicted about both the Twilight Zone episode and the story. As good as it was an adaptation, I no longer consider the episode among the best of the series. (The one that’s really crept up for that distinction is “The Silence”, which isn’t even “real” sci fi or fantasy/ horror.) Viewing it as an adult, I find it takes the right mood to appreciate it as anything but overdone. The story has aged far better, but stands out far more as a product of its time and a writer who could never quite make it into the top ranks. One might further wish that there could be a “do over” of the TZ episode that wasn’t limited by either censorship or effects technology. (The descriptions of the "sky" and "sun" would be hard to do with anything but CGI.) However, we already had our shot with the movie, and the people involved made what was probably the best choice by taking a different path entirely. Ultimately, the verdict on the story even more than the episode is that its greatest accomplishment was laying the way for better things. By all means read it if you haven’t, and reread it if you have. Just remember, things could be worse.

Miniature Giants: Campus Cuties!

 

As I write this, I'm at a watershed moment with my Marx figure collecting: I have been covering things on my godforsaken Youtube channel before I posted about them on this godforsaken blog. (Of course, I'm also finally doing another installment of this feature in the same month as the last one.) One thing that came up recently is that I did a video in connection with the Star Wars scale Japanese soldiers where I discussed the general question of the rarest Marx figures. In the course of that video, I finally showed off something that was backlogged a long time, a representative set of Marx Campus Cutie figures. Here are 2 of them in full... um... glory?

"I'm like any college student... I go to class in the morning, show up for work at noon and pick up my kids at night."

For the usual backstory, the Campus Cuties were perhaps the most notorious line released by Marx in the 1960s if not their entire history. (See Marx Wild West for most of the details.) Eight of these figures were released in 1964, the second year of production for Marx 6-inch figures. The concept was exactly as advertised, a lineup of perky, perhaps flirty young ladies in detailed outfits that, as many observers noted, had little if anything to do with academic pursuits. In further hindsight, these conspicuously failed to anticipate to anticipate either the fashion or the politics of the rest of the decade, though there were several sculpts that showed athletics and outdoor activities. (I will get to that...) The exact reasoning behind the line remains debatable. It did roughly coincided with efforts by Marx to expend into toys for girls, as evidenced by their dollhouse figures. It also would have offered an opening for sales to teenage and adult males. The latter scenario would further account for an apparent decision to market them as models for painting. As a result, a large percentage of the specimens in circulation have been hand-painted, as seen here. This particular set was sold to me by a seller who claimed or implied to have painted the figures. I bought it primarily for the pair shown immediately above, labeled Shopping Anyone? and Stormy Weather. Here's one more pic.

"This is lame, let's go to Woolworth's..."

Now, the unavoidable joke here is that, even given the spectacularly dated clothes and assumed gender roles, these look anything but youthful. In considering a place for these in my emerging Marx-based universe, I immediately associated the one on the right with a character who was supposed to be over 40. The other one at least looks like she could be college-aged, but she looks more like a senior with her own apartment than a romping freshman. Then there is the paint. It will be evident from the pics so far that the work on these two is pretty good in both quality and current condition. The third, on the other hand, was different.

This one is marked On The Beach, which for the easy gag was indeed the title of the "classic" post-apocalyptic film released in 1959. The first thing to note about this one is that the outfit is in fact a bathing suit typical for the 1950s and/or early '60s. If anything, the sculpt actually looks more risque without factoring that in. As far as the paint, this was done well enough that the straps on the suit are neatly painted. The head is not so good, I'm sure in part because of damage to the hair. The fundamental problem is the pose and posture. To be blunt, she looks either morbidly depressed or actually stoned. (Heck, maybe she is in On The Beach...) And here's a closeup pic. The paint isn't good, but I'm not satisfied it could have gone this bad if there wasn't already a problem.

And here's closeups for the other two.

"Well, why can't `Campus Cuties' include adjunct faculty?"

Now, there is a little more backstory that led to this post. The original eight Cuties were produced in significant numbers, and remain available as reissues and recasts. Fortunately, these are easy to tell apart, originals being a pink flesh tone and reissues tending toward white, grey or tan, and as often happens with Marx figures, there isn't that big a price difference to begin with. The values are somewhat above average, from about $10 for likely reissues to $50 or so for full sets. However, a second series was made in evidently limited numbers, without any report of reissue. These were a vast improvement in both aesthetics and relevance, complete with jeans, trendy jackets and accessories, and one pair of glasses between the lot of them. Alas, they are also so scarce that there is not a frame of reference for their value. By comparison, the astonishingly expensive Marvel figures (which I barely got one of) are at least available in sufficient numbers to track their prices at any given time. The second-wave Cuties, on the other hand, are simply a Wall of Nothing. Nobody is buying them, because nobody is selling them, because in all likelihood, nobody who would sell through normal channels has them. The only things comparable are a few items that I have called Marx's equivalent of the rocket-firing Boba Fett, prototypes like the Superman figure that never saw the light of day and novelties like the nude figure that were never intended to. This was the state of affairs for months, and then years, until about a month ago, I found a seller offering two sets of these damn things.

Needless to say, I was very interested and wildly incapable of meeting the lowest minimum bid for the listings, a partial painted set and a full set that was in pristine condition. My suspicion was that these were not going to sell for more than the $30-40 per figure that came out of subdividing the minimum bids, which I knew to be typical for Marvel figures (and maybe originals of the Universal Monsters line). Given the obscurity of the items compared to the (fair!) price, it seemed conceivable they might not sell at all. I was optimistic enough that I reached out privately to discuss buying one individually or at least reposting the seller's absolutely beautiful photos here. As it turned out, the painted set sold within the range I suspected, a fact I reported in my most recent video. When I reviewed the listings, however, I discovered that the complete set had gone for much more than the minimum bid, as in over $60 per figure with shipping factored in. That, of course, is still not exceptional compared to a Blue Snaggletooth. Alas, while I did successfully correspond with the seller, I received no reply regarding permission to reuse images, so I have nothing to show for it here but the tale.

So, I have one more chapter done in my adventures in Marx figure collecting. All in all, these are an essential part of any Marx collection. The only caution in order is that it's best not to go overboard, which is why I haven't gone further than this. And I couldn't avoid an extra pic with the Truckstop Queen (and Connie)...

"Let me get this straight, women's jeans were invented in 1934???"

That's all for now, more to come!

Animation Defenestration: The other one from Netflix

 

 

Title: Pinocchio aka Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio

What Year?: 2022

Classification: Weird Sequel/ Improbable Experiment

Rating: What The Hell??? (2/4)

 

As I write this, I’m just coming out of a spell that has beat the Hell out of my blogging, and well aware that I was having plenty of trouble before. One thing I remembered in the process ia that it has been a really long time since I did an animation review. That brought me to look through some new and old material I had been meaning to get to, and that led me to something truly different, except for the time I did the exact same thing. I present Pinocchio, the Netflix version, and it is… odd. Even for me.

Our story begins with an introduction to Geppetto, a toymaker who tragically loses his only child to war. Fast forward, and we find him as an old man wishing for a second chance. Somehow, his wish reaches the Blue Fairy, a freaky entity that looks half old-school fairy and half hard-core Biblical angel, who as usual does what nobody asked for and won’t necessarily help by bringing one of his wooden puppets to life. In this variation, the townspeople actually notice a fully sentient magical entity in their midst and prepare to destroy the abomination. The love of Geppetto wins them over, however, at least for the time being. Things go awry when the father tries to send his son to school for no obvious reason, only to have him wander off with a literal slavemaster of a showman who still actually puts the puppet to productive work. As the misadventures continue, Pinocchio discovers the price of the miracle that brought him to life: He can die after a fashion, as explained by the actually helpful Queen of the Netherworld, but he is destined to return to life every time. This soon attracts the interest of the military, which turns out to be the forces of Mussolini, while Geppetto is swallowed by the enormous Dogfish. Pinocchio must escape the actual Fascists and save his father from the sea monster, but the price of his choices may be forever!

Pinocchio is a 2022 Claymation film by Guillermo Del Toro (see Mimic 2, kind of) and Jim Henson Productions, based on the novel The Adventures of Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi (see… Pinocchio In Outer Space?). Del Toro had reportedly developed the project since 2008, before securing funding from Netflix (see The Mitchells Vs. The Machines). It was released for streaming in 2022, coinciding with a Disney remake of the 1940 film of the same name (no way in Hell…) and at least one other adaptation of the book. In contrast to the Disney film, the Netflix film was well-received by animation fans and critics. It remains available for streaming on Netflix.

For my experiences, what stands out in my mind is that I had a reverse of the usual pop culture experience: When I was a kid, I obviously knew of the Disney film, but my one direct experience with the strange mythos was reading an apparently faithful storybook version of the novel. In full hindsight, I came to two conclusions. First, the Disney film is the all-around best the studio ever made, which is like a confession under torture for a lifelong Fantasia junkie like me. (See Allegro Non Troppo, if anything…) Second, almost everything the film achieved was in spite of source material that is, to use “authentic” Serbo-Croatian, absolute kaka. Sure, I didn’t read the “real” book, but I got through the original story without prejudice, and it couldn’t win over kid me. Moreover, every account I can recall from those who have credibly claimed to be familiar with the  novel are even less favorable than mine, to the point of raising the question if the author qualifies as proto-Fascist. (Oh yeah, everybody hates the Blue Fairy.) With all that unloaded, I freely admit to being puzzled why such an inauspicious book has been adapted repeatedly, before and after the Disney film, and why, outside of the Disney influence, it would continue to attract interest today. If you’re asking these questions, the present film offers some answers, but still won’t help.

Moving forward, the obvious thing to say about this film is that it is both beautifully animated and strikingly mature. This surely accounts for why it has won over animation reviewers, who have long since tired of both mindlessly cute “kids” animation and gross-out gags posing as “adult” animation. If there is a problem, it is that this is neither fish nor fowl. The very freaky animation is not going to win over kids, while the story is still not as dark as the novel or even the Disney original. Then there are two specific choices that can be considered bold yet don’t deliver a proportionate payoff. First, the literally rough-hewn design of Pinocchio himself is an odd point to depart from both Disney and the novel, which can border on distracting. The only real “plus” to come with it is that it’s easier to accept the nose of this unsanded wooden boy sprouting into a sapling. Second, the Pleasure Island episode is entirely replaced with a new anti-war narrative. This removes the most famous, memorable and flatly horrifying scenes of the core narrative, and with it admittedly a number of effects that could have turned out badly in the Claymation medium. Of course, the question is and should be what we get in return. The explicit depiction of Fascism gives the film a much stronger political bite, in many ways on par with the actual Disney propaganda cartoons. Even so, the return is modest at best, and again, it just feels like a poor compromise. It isn’t nearly edgy enough to push this into adult-oriented satire, yet it falls even further short of the sheer existential terror of the allegedly all-ages Disney “original”.

That still leaves the bigger question, what does this do with the story and especially the character? If there’s a distinct “take” here, it is that this Pinocchio has even fewer moral flaws than the Disneyfied version, without losing all nuance. He is seemingly incapable of the foul temper and outright malice of the novel’s antihero (you can bet I always knew what happens to the cricket, but he can most certainly be manipulated, deceived and coerced. What one is tempted to look for is any sign of the story questioning the very skewed “lessons” of the novel. We get a little of this in a late sequence where Pinocchio freely uses his growing nose to good purpose, in the process clearly delineating between obvious fantasy and damaging untruths. The greatest potential lies in Pinocchio being sent to school. Here, we are given a clear rationale, which could have been an intriguing if Pinocchio actually got into the classroom. What would have been most interesting, however, would have been a legitimate debate over whether human education would benefit an entity who demonstrates the power to speak at a minimum within moments of his creation. That leaves one more unavoidable rant on Del Toro, who has rarely turned out anything I didn’t promptly see and like. In light of that history, this film felt like the epitaph of a good friend who died doing something stupid. There’s all the wonder and weirdness he brought to Mimic, Pan’s Labyrinth and Hellboy. But with it is the inescapable feeling that even then, he was hitting the boundaries of his own limitations as much as what the studio system would support.

That leaves the “one scene”, and the one I decided to come back to was his first meeting with the Queen of the Netherworld, who has no name within the film. After Pinocchio is carried into the underworld, he emerges from a ceremonial coffin and talks to a group of odd characters who brought him in. One of them comments that he will have to see “the boss”, without interrupting a card game. Sure enough, a red light shines on Pinocchio, and he comes into the presence of the Queen. At first, she is only evidenced by two glowing spotlight eyes and her voice, the latter courtesy of Tilda Swinton. The form comes into full view as the most strange and memorable creature in the movie, something like a manticore with horns, semi-vestigial wings and a surplus of eyes. The most unsettling feature is that there is no movement of her lips as she explains Pinocchio’s plight with far more clarity and empathy than the Blue Fairy, referred to as her “sister”. One can read reincarnation or resurrection into her description of Pinocchio as a “wooden boy with a borrowed soul”, but nothing more is said to clarify the issue. Her final reveal is that Pinocchio will spend more time in the Netherworld each time he dies, shown with an ominous hourglass. The wooden boy declares that he has a question, but of course, his time has run out. It’s a great scene in a generally good movie, and that sums up why I find the whole less than its parts.

In closing, I come as usual to the rating. This is one case where I freely admit that my rating is harsher than the objective quality warrants. However, I have always said that my reviews are on a curve that can swing both ways. Given what I’m usually dealing with, that means I’m being generous far more often than not, but that doesn’t mean I have gone so nose-blind that I cannot hold truly talented creators to a higher and completely appropriate standard. For me personally, the rating is first and foremost an expression of my disappointment. It’s obviously not bad, it’s certainly better than other movies I have given the same rating (see Chicken Little), it’s just not the same from a creator who can usually hit my soft spots even on his off-day. For me, that’s enough to count as closure. “If I had legs…”

The Legion of Silly Dinosaurs: Generic giant Oviraptor and friends!

 

As I write this, it's the last day of the year, and I've gone a whole week without a post. I knew if there was one thing I had to get done, it was a dino blog. Fortunately, over the last shopping days before Christmas, I made it to a little store that is my favorite place for things paleo related, the way The Falling is my favorite Alien knockoff. It's a concentration of incredibly weird and wonky dinos that has already been the source of the ankylosaur dino bot, the generic dino bag, and a plurality of my "in the wild" pics (surprisingly not so much round 2). I was counting on finding something worthy of this feature. I knew I had it when I saw this guy.

This is, as anyone who found their way here undoubtedly knows, an Oviraptor, very possibly the weirdest dinosaur ever discovered. The thing about that title that the non-paleo public doesn't get is that very, very few dinosaurs are really that strange as dinosaurs, particularly among the therepods. The medium-sized herbivores could be pretty weird, the most unique being none other than the beloved stegosaurs. By comparison, the big, famous carnosaurs are mostly bigger or smaller versions of the same body plan, with only Dilophosaurus, Carnotaurus (see the mystery box post) and to a lesser extent Ceratosaurus going far from form. We now know the spinosaurs got weird enough to be their own thing, but they were ultimately nothing more or less than a reversion back to the Triassic crocomorphs (absolutely the most scientificest term ever) that the dinosaurs descended from in the first place. 

But the oviraptors have a skull structure so unique that we still have no idea how they actually fed. In fact, as nobody but me has ever commented, the one thing it does resemble is a flamingo, the filter-feeding bird, which I semi-seriously considered as a solution to their diet before we found one that weighed two tons. From what we knew then and now, the diet really couldn't have been that strange, as lizards and/ or small dino remains have been found as stomach contents and other closely associated remains. As you all undoubtedly know, the name was based on the fact that the very first specimen was found on top of a nest of eggs that it was assumed to be feeding on, until we figured out 70 years later that those were its own eggs. This specimen is a pretty good representation of how we thought they looked by the mid-1980s, before revisionists started drawing them with feathers. Here's some more pics of the glorious datedness. And yes, I could not get a single one of this thing standing up on its own.

"You'd protect your eggs too if you had to squeeze this one out..."

The thing that really seals the deal is that egg. If this was anywhere near normal size for an oviraptorosaur, this would be the size of a football, which would be about as big as actual titanosaur eggs. It is hollow, squeezable and cast in two pieces, which seemed to indicate it would be more or less removable. I initially wondered if it would have a baby dino inside. I figured from inspection in the package that it would be held on with tape or a bit of super glue at most. Naturally, handling quickly established that this thing is going nowhere without cutting something off. The lingering mystery is, what the hell is that tube thing???

As it happens, this gigantic dino still came in a bagged set with a couple more dinos, an out-of-scale stego and a brachiosaur that is probably even more disproportioned but still huge. As usual, the brachiosaur has no semblance of the soft tissue we know it had. It's still a decent old-school dino. The stego is very good, and might have been better with painted eyes, if, of course, they had been painted with competence not in evidence. Here's more pics of the pair.

And here's a couple with a 70mm Space Guy for scale...

If the gun is as effective as usual, we can assume it's a .410 loaded with rock salt.

Naturally, the set also came with some vegetation for scenery. This time around, it's quite decent. Here's a diorama shot with the space marine analogs.

And that's enough for another day and another year. I'm still thinking over what I want to do with this blog, but one thing you can count on is that the Legion will press on. That's all for now, more to come!

The Kong File: The one that was the first sequel

 

 

Title: Son of Kong

What Year?: 1933

Classification: Weird Sequel

Rating: It’s Okay! (3/4)

 

As I write this, I’m looking at things to clear out my backlog, and that brought me to an idea I’ve had on hold for quite a while. It’s nothing less than a survey of the oldest, most influential and most eclectic science fiction franchise of all time, which has already figured frequently on this blog and my fiction and non-fiction as a whole. Needless to say, I will be looking at the obscure and very odd outliers of a wild and woolly franchise whose management has been uneven to put it mildly. There was no better place to start than ground zero. I present Son Of Kong, the very first sequel to the original monster movie blockbuster.

Out story begins with Carl Denham, the adventurer and showman who brought King Kong to New York, now at the center of a very realistic wave of litigation. To stay out of court and perhaps improve his finances, Denham sets out on another expedition to Skull Island, following an obviously unreliable rumor of treasure. Everyone’s back except Anne and Jack, including the minority comic relief cook. Along the way, they pick up a new romantic interest, a clearly untrustworthy sailor who might know about the island, and finally a smaller and more friendly Kong. There’s wacky hijinks, strange creatures, and old fashioned heroics ahead as the expedition explores the island. But when the island is destroyed by a volcanic eruption, it will take all their daring do to get out alive!

Son of Kong was a 1933 science fantasy film by RKO, created as a sequel to King Kong released the same year. The film was the only direct sequel to Kong made by RKO and the cast and crew of the original film. A script was created by Ruth Rose, credited as co-writer on the original film; Rose stated that the script was written to replace all dramatic elements with comedy. The film starred Robert Armstrong returning as Carl Denham and Helen Mack as his romantic interest, identified as Hilda but not named in the film. Other returning cast included Frank Reicher as Captain Engelhorn, Victor Wong as Charlie and Noble Johnson as the islanders’ chief. Fay Wray and Bruce Cabot did not participate, nor was there any evidence that they were offered the opportunity to do so. Willis O’Brien again created special effects for the film, which were limited by RKO’s decision to complete and release the film by the end of 1933. Armstrong reportedly favored the sequel for the expanded role of his character. It was not otherwise well-regarded by critics or fans, and became largely obscure. In 2005, the film was released as a set with the original film and Mighty Joe Young. It is currently available on digital platforms including free streaming from Tubi.

For my experiences, the real background here is the misadventures I went through to get the original King Kong in the 1990s-early 2000s, which I covered when I reviewed the 1976 De Laurentiis remake (see also Mighty Peking Man). After the difficulties I went through for that, I was neither optimistic about nor particularly interested in finding the present film, which I definitely knew about. I finally watched when I got the “franchise” box set as a gift, around the time the 2005 remake came out. Once I did see it, I immediately found my opinions mixed. On one hand, it was obviously far inferior to the original, as well as clearly further weighed down by the rushed production. On the other hand, it is far better than one might gather from casual accounts, and in certain lights better than it had any right to be.

Moving forward, the obvious strengths of the movie lie in the cast, which is mostly a case of leaving well enough alone. Armstrong as Denham is as good as before if not better, in situations that genuinely develop his character. The inherited supporting cast prove that they were always part of the successful equation, especially Johnson (see my rants under Gone With The Wind and Ingagi), with Wong coming up from behind as underrated. Most impressively, Mack is in many ways an improvement on Wray. By my assessment, she gives her character a more mature and melancholy quality than Ann Darrow, which is all the more striking since she was actually significantly younger. That coupled with Armstrong’s more subdued character gives a chemistry far more interesting than that of `the original leading pair. (On the other hand, the real-life age difference gives a solid cringe.) Beyond these obvious points, the story truly builds on the original with some surprisingly realistic consequences. There are even moments where the effects and camerawork improve rather embarrassingly on the previous film, particularly a trip through a half-submerged cave and a dynamic head-on shot of a charging cave bear.

That leaves the stop-motion, which is normally where I would be holding myself back. The unfortunate reality is, it’s not hard to envision the film done just as well entirely without them. The little Kong is a fine creation that takes the art and technology in new directions (compare especially with the prince in Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger). In far too many ways, however, it’s a case of too much and not enough. The animation isn’t nearly up to the standards of other O’Brien films. (And if you don’t want to be horrified and depressed, do not look up his biography for this time period…) At the same time, the “cute” moments tend to be predictable at best and overdone at worst, with only a mishap with a gun really building on the character. The problems are magnified with the other creatures. The best of the lot is a ceratopsian, originally in the “spider pit” scene of the original, while the bear and a briefly seen plesiosaur both pass. Things get far more difficult with the dragon-like creature of the intended climactic battle, which is the best explanation I can think of for certain talk of a spinosaur somewhere in the franchise. It should have been among O’Brien’s work, and it is by all means very good, yet there are too many corners cut in both the model and the animation, egregiously the uncanny eyes. The common denominator is that only the laziest, greediest suits could have thought that an early release date was a fair trade for the money and time that could have been put into improving the effects. It gets that much harder to take little Kong’s repeatedly extended digit as anything but an expression of Obie’s feelings on the studio system.

Now for the “one scene”, I was honestly debating between a few choices. I finally skipped ahead in the review just to take a look at one of them. At only the 13-minute mark, the leading lady is introduced as Helen, the star attraction of a late-colonial backwater theater. As she takes the stage, Charlie loudly claps, conspicuously alone. She then goes into her predictably underwhelming act, while the camera mercilessly shows the silent stares of the audience. In the middle, we cut to Denham and the captain as they comment at her expense. Denham says in her defense, “She’s got personality… if someone would show her what to do with it.” It’s an effective introduction to a character. The truly funny part for the seasoned bad-movie veteran is that as not-great as it is, the “joke” act is still vastly better than plenty of completely “straight” musical numbers. And that reminds me, I have to do something with Wild World Of Batwoman…

In conclusion, what I come back to is what I am always saying about sequels (see Ghostbusters 2). Sequels are always going to be stuck between studio management, fans and general audiences who have consistently failed to comprehend the things that make an actually good one. The present film is at face value depressing proof that things were no different in the days when sound film was a new and nearly unknown medium. The brighter side is that it proves that even maximum interference and stupidity are not quite enough to keep genuine merit from shining through. The final proof is that I can absolutely say that this film is nowhere near the worst one I have considered for this lineup. And with that, I’m going to go lie down for a while.

The Horrible Horror Vault: The one that's the best horror reboot

 

 

Title: Halloween

What Year?: 2018

Classification: Weird Sequel

Rating: That’s Good! (4/4)

 

As I write this, it’s the end of a week off, and I’ve been going through leftovers from Halloween. That happened to bring me back to something I had considered during my informal survey of the slasher genre. It’s one of the more recent entries in the long list of genre film remakes, which for once was both good and well-received at the time. It also happened to be quite possibly the one film that got me interested enough to look into slashers far enough to lay the groundwork for this feature. I present Halloween, 2018 edition, the horror reboot that people liked.

Our story begins with a couple reporters investigating the tale of Michael Myers and Laurie Stroud, 40 years after their fateful encounter. It turns out that Michael is back in the asylum (which really should have been closed around the time he was eclipsed by Jason and Freddy), still not saying a word, while Laurie has become a survivalist shut-in on the outs with her adult daughter. Right when she is trying to reach out to her only grandchild, Michael escapes during a transfer between facilities. His new doctor teams up with an old lawman who witnessed his first rampage for a manhunt as Michael ramps up his mayhem. But what he’s really after is a rematch with the woman who bested him, and Laurie has had 40 years to prepare. It all comes down to a showdown at her new place- if she can get her family together first!

Halloween was a 2018 film by Miramax, produced as both a direct sequel and franchise reboot to the 1978 film of the same name. It was at least the second remake/ reboot, following the 2007 film by Rob Zombie. The film was directed by David Gordon Green, from a script cowritten with Danny McBride and Jeff Bradley. Jamie Lee Curtis (see Terror Train, Everything Everywhere All At Once) returned as Laurie Strode, with Judy Greer and Andi Matchak as her daughter and granddaughter. The role of Michael Myers was given to James Jude Courtney. Nick Castle, the actor/ stuntman who played the villain in the original film, also briefly appeared in the role. John Carpenter (Dark Star, They Live, The Thing, etc) received credit for the film’s music. The movie was well-received by fans and critics. It received two sequels, Halloween Kills and Halloween Ends, in 2021 and 2022.

For my experiences, I already pretty well recounted my arc reviewing Halloween 3. (See also Sleepaway Camp while you're at it...) Up to 2018, I was aware of the franchise but had respectfully declined to look into it. When the reboot came out, I decided to watch it and the original film. The curious thing is, even with my usual world’s-worst-superpower memory, I can’t say for sure which I saw first. What I do remember with striking clarity is that there were several points where I recognized references to the original film (and for that matter the second one) while watching the reboot in the theater. That in itself is a striking testimony to the groundwork that those involved were building on. Whether or not you ever saw the first film, even whether or not you knew if you saw it, you knew of it. The foundation of the present film was that the filmmakers took that for granted and built it into a shared inside joke. The vaguely embarrassing part is that, as the quasi-parody of Twitch of the Death Nerve, the results compare startlingly well with its “straight” predecessors.

Moving forward, what is established from the opening scenes is a post-modern feel that was arguably there all along. The elemental strength of Carpenter’s original lay in a story that was theoretically cliched even then, in fact seemingly drawn from “urban legends” at least as it was from “proto-slasher” films up to that point. The present film builds on the secular implications with “meta” commentary on the media and the vastly changed “real-life” landscape; the horrors of Michael’s night out are now almost quaint, a point driven home early and explicitly in the kids’ dialogue. It’s debatable whether it is a matter of irony or merely conceding to trends that the body count is raised accordingly, resulting in more deaths by the time Michael gets his mask back than there were in the whole first film. Even then, there is an implicit contrast between his up-close methods and the randomized mayhem of more recent events. A good deal of further effort goes into making the slasher scenario relevant in the age of the internet and smart phones. There is indeed believability and tension in the many foul-ups and near-misses as Laurie and the authorities try to track both Michael and errant family members.

The real new ground is Laurie, simultaneously traumatized and hardened. It needs to be said that this isn’t that “unique”. Still, this is certainly a raw and believable take on the aftermath of trauma. Laurie was never a simple damsel in distress. By now, she has hardened herself to the point of becoming in some lights more of a cliché than she would have been if she had been written that way in the first place. The nuance lies in our glimpses of her everyday life. She jabs back at anyone who challenges the more obvious problems of her skewed worldview, and the story does not downplay that the doubters have a point. Yet, she still shows clear concern and moments of tenderness, especially with the granddaughter, and even a kind of maternal tone when addressing Michael. To me, it would have been more interesting to have her shown as a functional community activist, which is what I would consider the norm for the self-advocates I have met. As it is, there is a deeper mutual illogic. On one hand, barring certain lore that is downplayed if not quite rejected here, the idea that Michael would come after her again is just a wild guess. On the other, if it took almost 20 years for Michael to escape the first time, there’s no downside to living a normal life.

That brings me back around to Michael, and I have space to go a little longer. To me, slasher villains tend to be a weak link under ideal circumstances. As I have already repeatedly ranted, it was established with the giallo genre that the identity and motives of a killer were an interchangeable parts. In the Halloween series, I find that there is a tendency to acknowledge the conceit without quite freeing themselves from it. Michael is the perfect rejoinder to the fixation on the killer: He has no motive, no backstory that would change the story, and no perceptible human weaknesses, all because he is simply the vessel of a unspecified, potentially supernatural force of evil. The strange thing, which gets more frustrating when the franchise is considered as a whole, is that it has repeatedly been broadcast that he might be replaced, which would fit the implied philosophical and theological themes. In fact, of all the entries in the franchise (including the most recent), this is after Halloween 3 the one that comes closest to meaning it. When a certain character goes off the rails (someone recently pointed out to me I don’t do spoilers, but then I don’t really do much with movies that need them), we get a villain as intriguing as Michael. In the process, we get certain further questions about how Michael got loose in the first place. Ultimately, however, he’s only in the mix long enough to stop anyone from trying to dispatch the real star with some point-blank head trauma.

That leaves the “one scene”, and I’m going with the opening. It starts with the reporters entering the asylum, and the surprising part is that there is no effort to make it look gloomy or authoritarian. It’s just a well-lit, clean, clinical environment. They’re met by the doctor, who gives much of the exposition as he talks about Michael’s treatment. Most intriguingly, he insists that Michael can talk (though he “should” still be stuck around age 6), but “chooses not to”. They finally get to the central courtyard, which is possibly the most intriguing environment in the film, open, bright and even fairly colorful thanks to a red-and-white checkerboard. Michael is waiting in a delineated center square, which nobody is trying to keep him in and the doctor warns the visitors not to enter. The guy reporter approaches right to the edge and gets out the iconic mask, now grayed and grungy with age. There’s just a hint of a reaction as he calls out to the villain, finally saying fatefully, “Say something, Michael.” The only further response comes from the other inmates as they become agitated. Their reactions and sounds are mixed, as those with the right experience would expect, some unnerving, some just as disconcertingly incongruous, particularly one who sings “Figaro”. It’s a very effective sequence, and perhaps the perfect illustration of the seductive and almost always false attraction of madness.

In closing, I come back to a question I have been working my way around: Is there a “best” slasher movie? I would honestly say, by any technical measure, this one is the winner hands down, if only because its budget and talent rise far above anything that was being made in the timeframe of the original. With the field narrowed down to “vintage” films, I would choose Halloween 2, which gets its own asterisk for being effectively the second half of the same story as the first film. Again, what lingers in my mind is what might have been if people had simply left well enough alone and let things end with Michael emphatically and canonically dead. As already noted, it wouldn’t have stopped the slasher juggernaut, but it would have kept the present franchise different from the rest. With that, I can call my project done and bid the genre a less-than-fond farewell for a while. Rest in pieces…