31 Days of '81 Horror: Road Games (Richard Franklin)

Australian director Richard Franklin was an ardent admirer of Alfred Hitchcock, so much so that as a USC film student he was able to get the master of suspense to speak to his class. Franklin, who would go on to direct Psycho II in 1983 (my review) was definitely an alert student, and his dedication shines through in the wonderful suspense yarn, Road Game, where he takes the basic premise of Rear Window and molds it into something his own. Pat Quid (Stacey Keach), an educated American hauling pork across the highways of Australia, witnesses suspicious behavior and letting his imagination run wild, suspects a traveller of murder. Pat picks up a beautiful American hitch-hiker (Jamie Lee Curtis) who he names, ahem, Hitch, and together the duo gets wrapped up in these “road games” of proving their theories correct. But in a classic turning of the screws, the voyeur is finding himself an unwilling participant in a deadly game with the murderer who has been carefully, with the help of Pat’s sometimes erratic behavior, casting all the evidence of foul play towards the American driver.

Provided a clever script by Everret DeRoche, solid acting by the entire ensemble, and great location scouting, Franklin skillfully plays with expectations and churns out suspense masterfully. The writer and director create a community amongst the drivers and passengers on the highway, and Franklin is able to balance the suspense with some humor, as the film is essentially a character study with a murder mystery as a backdrop. With the exception of a final jump out scare, the film is light on gore, making it stand out from the other brethren of 1981 horror films. But don’t let the lack of splatter fool you; Franklin proves a deft hand at a major shock midway through the film. Like Hitchcock, Franklin flexes some major stylistic flourishes, especially in three scenes: the opening murder set at a motel which uses heavy stark white lighting from the bathroom as illumination and giallo like close-up on gloves and body parts; an impressive 360 degree shot that starts with Stacey Keach in the driver’s seat of his rig out to the road he drives and back to him; and a prolonged suspenseful scene where Pat is inspecting his load after discovering the latch open, and he walks through the eerily hung bodies of pigs (or "tomorrow’s bacon" as Hitch writes on the back of the truck), his air visible through the cold of the refrigeration.

And now we must praise Stacey Keach. Not blessed with matinee idol looks and sporting a visible hair lip when not covered by a moustache, Keach nonetheless was lucky enough to come to prominence in the 1970s, where a man of his unique physical looks and abundant talent was in demand. In films as disparate as Fat City, The Killer Inside Me, The Gravy Train, The Ninth Configuration, The Long Riders and this, Keach was able to show his versatile ability to hone thoughtful dramatic performance with a touch of humorous self-weariness. While it’s difficult to select only one from his career, I feel like Pat Quid may be Keach’s most essential role. Acting for most of the film by himself or talking to his dingo, Keach is able to project a history of the character. His character’s simultaneous boredom and joie de vivre is apparent as he has mapped out various ways to keep himself occupied and entertained by such tactics as creating identities and history for the fellow road travelers. Sure, this is aided by a well written character, but even with a good script, we have to spend a lot of time with Pat, and Keach’s laconic pleasantness is a joy. Even the love angle with Jamie Lee Curtis (making one of her final six horror appearances between the years 1978 and 1981) is tender and the duo has instant chemistry, despite the large age difference.

An accomplishment for all involved, Road Games is one of the best horror/suspense films of 1981, and a great way to close out our 31 day celebration of the year’s crop.

31 Days of '81 Horror: Deadly Blessing (Wes Craven)

There’s a reason that so many horror films are centered around religious iconography. Every religion, no matter how loose or strident, comes down to the basic tenant of using fear as a motivator. Do good and you will go to heaven to hang out with God and his hippie son Jesus with all your friends and loved ones; however be bad, or more appropriately, fail to fully follow the particular customs and rules of your particular sect, and go to hell where you will burn for eternity. More people are told these “facts” at a particularly young and impressionable age, far younger than an age when most start to watch horror films. A Mennonite community such as the Amish, with their rejection of modern technology, division from the rest of society and their uniform policy of dress (emphasis on black, with men sporting long beards) seems rife for exploiting by a horror filmmaker, but with the exception of this film, and Children of the Corn, I cannot think of another horror film set amongst the Mennonites. And after watching the amateurish, confused and mediocre Wes Craven directed film Deadly Blessing, I am still waiting for a good horror film set amongst the Mennonites.

John Schmidt (Jeff East) is a former member of an Amish like church called Hittites, led by Ernest Borgnine. Although he still lives on a property neighboring the Hittites’ camps and has a good relationship with much of his former flock, the elders are disgusted at John’s marriage to the secular hottie Martha (Maren Jensen), and believe the house is their rightful possession. The newlyweds also have to deal with Michael Berryman going around calling them “the incubus” all the time, but to be fair, Michael Berryman does that all the time anyway. Soon it becomes obvious that tactics are being taken to scare the Schmidts off the land, primarily the suspicious death of John. When two equally attractive friends of Martha (including a very young Sharon Stone) move in to console the mourning widow, efforts seem ramped up to get them out as the young women teach some Hittites’ males an unexpected lesson in sexuality.

Though by this point director Wes Craven had already created the influential duo of Last House on the Left and The Hills Have Eyes, and was a few years away from creating one of the two films he is now most associated with amongst the general public (A Nightmare on Elm Street, 1996’s Scream being the other), the amateurish and poor craftsmanship displayed in Deadly Blessing is a microcosm for his overall inconsistent career. It’s amazing to compare Craven to John Carpenter who steadily improved from a technical standpoint and cultivated his own cinematic identity in the same era. Sure, you could say Last House was never a technical feat, but at least he was able to churn suspense and turn stomach. But here there’s no suspense, and the indifferent style seems TV movie-ish (actually Dark Night of the Scarecrow, which did premiere on television is far more cinematic). There’s no tone or rhythm, and when things get supernatural, well, they just kind of happen, in fairness the confusing piecemeal script (credited to Glenn Benest, Matthew Barr and Craven) pays the director no assistance. Interestingly though, there are at least three shot compositions that feel like beta testing for scenes that Craven would later recycle for Elm Street, I guess he figured no one was watching or would remember Deadly Blessing. The most obvious of which is a bathtub sequence that is pretty much a frame for frame precursor to the famous scene with Heather Lagenkamp in Elm Street, only with a giant python in the place of Freddy Krueger’s knife glove.

31 Days of '81 Horror: Dead & Buried (Gary Sherman)

Welcome to the small fog enshrouded beach town of Potter’s Bluff, where things are the way they used to be, even if the citizens have to kill for it. Sheriff Dan Gillis (James Farentino) who has returned with his wife (Flash Gordon’s Melody Anderson) to his childhood hometown is in charge of investigating a rash of suspicious fatal accidents befalling tourists. Gillis seems to continually hit dead end after dead end as most of the residents deny ever seeing the deceased persons and he just can’t get proper assistance from the town kooky perfectionist mortician William Dobbs (Jack Albertson), a nattily attired elderly man who still drives a model T. The further Gillis investigates, the closer he comes to unraveling the town’s morbid secret, and the more he puts himself at risk.

Director Gary Sherman, and a team of four writers including Alien scripter Dan O’Bannon provide a light horror tone reminiscent of a different era (apropos for the film’s theme) yet when things need to get to a dark or gory place, Dead and Buried is able to navigate those waters with ease, reminiscent of the tonal shifts in a future O’Bannon film, Return of the Living Dead. The central mystery is pretty easy to deduce (I won’t spoil it here though) but leads to a great “the protagonist is fucked” endgame, and I got a kick out of the theme of the ironic extremes that a small town would go to keep itself distant from the modern “element”. The film features early work by special effects wizard Stan Winston (The Terminator, Jurassic Park), which though effective from afar, reveal the small budget and greenness of Winston’s experience in close-up shots. Dead and Buried is a small gem worth checking out, just don’t make any vacation plans in Potter’s Bluff.

31 Days of '81 Horror: Galaxy of Terror (Bruce D. Clark)

A few years ago I noticed that MAD magazine was still around, and that they were skewering the big release of the summer, The Dark Knight (I am assuming their parody was entitled “The Fart Knight”). The thing that got to me was this particular issue was coming out pretty much the same week as Christopher Nolan’s film. Knowing how deadlines work and how long it takes to write, ink and edit the piece, it occurred to me that this MAD piece was probably generated based on previews and other marketing tactics, whereas I know that in 1989, because I bought the issue, that their parody of Tim Burton’s film Batman (which I seem to recall was entitled “Blecchman”) came out in September, meaning, it was more likely the writers and artists actually had the opportunity to see the finish product that were satirizing beforehand, thus making their work more a response to the product than to the marketing. Now obviously the way information is disseminated these days requires a quick turnaround, and even a monster hit like The Dark Knight is probably gone from most cinemas three months’ after its release date, and is far enough removed from public consciousness that a MAD parody will feel stale, well more stale than usual for a MAD parody. Another example, and one that actually relates to the film being discussed today (yes, I’ll eventually provide some reviewing in this review) is the modern churner of direct to DVD rip-off releases of big blockbusters, Asylum Pictures. I should mention that I’ve never actually have seen one of their works in its entirety, but knowing what I know of their quality, I am going to take a stab that things like the Transmorphers series, and their hope that illiterate people grab this thinking that somehow they found a DVD of a film just released theatrically, aren’t exactly grand artistic achievements, or even try to be.

From the 1960’s to the 1980’s producer Roger Corman was the king of capitalizing on successful films of the day. Of course, back then successful films were not the manifest destinies they are today, so Corman and the filmmakers that worked for him had to wait to see which film audiences enjoyed. Thus, his “rip-offs” (for better lack of a word) were a response to their actual content and entailed a study of the film to see what made them work, a process that would take a few years generally. So Bonnie and Clyde (1967) begat Bloody Mama (1970), Jaws (1975) begat Piranha (1979), Star Wars (1977) begat Battle Beyond the Stars (1980), and yes, Alien (1979) begat Galaxy of Terror (1981).

Galaxy of Terror is basically Alien for those without an attention span, in fact the deliberate pacing of Ridley Scott’s film seem to be practically mocked when our captain Trantor (Grace Zabriskie) kicks off their crews mission to discover the whereabouts of a missing ship by kicking their shuttle into speeds so fast, it can only be visually implied with the actual film speeding up. The film packs as much disgusting space horrors: tentacles ripping off faces, body parts being torn off, faces exploding, even death via rape from a giant worm, as it can in its brief 81 minute running time, perhaps enough to equal the entire Alien series.

That’s of course not to say it’s anywhere in the class of Scott’s film, but unlike the previously mentioned Asylum production films, there was care put into making it a quality film. Even though it’s low budget surfaces during certain special effect sequences, a lot of attention was paid to the fine set design and matte paintings. The world created by the designers, which interestingly enough included future director of Aliens, James Cameron (another in the long tradition of Corman protégés that went on to bigger things), is a fog enshrouded, cavernous one, with a pyramid as the central force, and a very MC Escher vibe to the style. The practical effects of the tentacles can be very effectively skin crawling, especially when provided a good angle and darkness to hide the relative cheapness of them.

While the direction can be a little stiff at time, Bruce D. Clark is able to move things along at the breakneck pace clearly. The screenplay by Clark and Marc Siegler is a little heady and full of big announcements and platitudes for what is essentially a body count in space film, but I did love this one exchange: “Aren’t you afraid?” “No, I’m too scared to be” which enters the pantheon for ridiculous lines delivered with conviction along with such favorites as Road House’s “Pain don’t hurt”. A game cast includes Happy Days’ Joanie, Erin Moran, whose passing resemblance to Sigourney Weaver is actually subverted with her character’s fate, genre favorite Sid Haig, future Freddy Krueger Robert England, future softcore director Zalman King, and as the cook, Ray Walston, whose career would get a shot in the arm one year later, as Mr. Hand in Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Galaxy of Terror is not a great film, but it’s a fun and obviously lovingly made B-movie, something that’s becoming more and more of a rarity these days.

31 Days of '81 Horror: The Nesting (Armand Weston)

Horror novelist Laura Cochran (Robin Groves) is facing writer’s block and emotional instability in her New York neighborhood. She can’t leave the apartment without having nervous convulsion that her psychiatrist diagnoses as a case of agoraphobia. His recommendation is for her to get away from the big city (though that would seem a difficult task for an agoraphobic, but blah, logic) and she finds an old large abandoned and house in a small isolated lakeside town that she rents with the intention of fixing up. Shortly though, as is apt to happen in old large abandoned houses, especially one that we learn in the first sequence was the site of a post-World War II slaughter (the second 1981 horror film to open with murders involving homecoming WWII soldiers discussed here, the first being The Prowler), strange occurrences plague the writer. She has even more intense dreams, flashbacks of the houses past incarnation as a brothel, and visions of a faceless woman. What does the history of the house have to do with Laura? And why does it seem to manifest itself into terror to the ones that attempt to do her harm?

A case of decent parts adding up to a meh sum, The Nesting never really capitalizes on its potential. A haunted house story always leads to the inevitable suspension of disbelief in the viewer of why the person or persons doesn’t just leave (see Eddie Murphy’s routine about Amityville Horror in Delirious), however, with an agoraphobic lead character, the possibility for torment not only is more intense, but creates a self-writing character arc. Unfortunately, once she’s arrived in the new place, the agoraphobia issue is never again mentioned. The central resolution of the mystery is compelling, but that too is botched by just being revealed via an exposition heavy monologue (albeit by the awesome John Carradine) and a flashback that just serves as an addendum to the story instead of part of it. Director Armand Weston does a decent job, and there’s a good scythe to the face murder, but he mainly relies on old genre generic scare tactics like old phonographs playing themselves, windows shuttering and creaking hardwood floors. The central location is a scouting location coup though, and has great ambience, it would well serve a better film.

31 Days of '81 Horror: Dark Night of the Scarecrow (Frank DeFellitta)

Pity to the simple minded giants in a horror movie for death or injury at the hands of a bloodthirsty mob is never far behind. Frankenstein’s monster just wanted some human companionship, but unable to process his full strength, he unexpectedly tossed a poor little girl to her death. In the made for TV, but surprisingly suspenseful and bloody, movie, Dark Night of the Scarecrow, slow witted child’s mind-in-a-man’s body, Bubba Ritter (Larry Drake), actually saves his young friend’s life, but is not sparred from the wrath of a small town gaggle of men, spurred on by voyeuristic, and possibly perverted minded, postal worker Otis Hazelrigg (Charles Durning).

Bubba’s best friend, a ten year old flower obsessed girl named Mary Lee decides to take a peak over the fence of a neighbor’s yard, but before we can cutaway to ominous looking gnomes, a German Shepard pounces on her. Bubba brings the unconscious child to her mother, but wires are crossed, and Otis, thinking that there’s no other explanation than Bubba must have finally snapped, gathers a posse to implement a little small town justice. Scared, Bubba, at the insistence of his mother, hides from the men, in their field, disguised as a scarecrow. But the posse discovers the ruse and kills Bubba, shooting first and asking questions later. Planting a pitchfork on Bubba, the men get off of murder charges by claiming a self-defense plea. Shortly after, the men responsible for Bubba’s death have scarecrows mysteriously appear in their own yards and are systemically killed. Is this the work of Bubba’s mother? The D.A. who swears for justice? Or has Bubba returned from the dead?

While a little padded for the simple nature of the film (probably to fit a 2 hour block of time with commercials), and prone to the occasional disinterested shot composition and technical aspects that one generally associates with the made for television films of the era, Dark Night also is very effective, both emotionally and suspense wise. The film was originally conceived to be made independently and then sold for theatrical release, so while some scenes of gore may have been edited for broadcast, it still has its share of bloodshed, and is more suspense than gore based either way. The scene where Bubba’s disguise is revealed is particularly harrowing and well executed. I would have liked one of the members of the posse to have misgivings about their participation, but really appreciated Durning’s, reveling in playing the villain, Otis becoming more power hungry and obsessive after getting away with murder. The film serves as a prototype for the Final Destination series, as it keeps the source of the mystery ambiguous, and each person dies in a Rube Goldberg-inspired method that could be explained away easily via circumstances.

31 Days of '81 Horror: Ghost Story (John Irvin)

The premise of Ghost Story, four elderly men with a macabre secret from their past who meet weekly as the Chowder Society, where they tell one another scary stories is rife with potential for evocative subtext leaden spectral vengeance. Does this fifty year old practice really serve as a sort of coping mechanism for their guilty consciousness? Or is it possible subconscious self-punishment? And what happens when the spirits set their sights on the offspring of the Chowder Society members? Perhaps Peter Straub’s bestselling 560 page novel delves into these aspects…or at least is a compelling narrative, because unfortunately, the film adaptation bungles the promising premise and is a tonal mess and a bit of a dirge.

Director John Irvin, who did a fine job with the exciting mercenary film Dogs of War (my review) which was released in February of 1981, and screenwriter Lawrence Cohen (not too be confused with It’s Alive b-movie auteur Larry Cohen), certainly have some high ambitions for the film: dream sequences, long flashback sequences and no strict leading characters, that give it a more novelistic approach than a straight three act structure, but it feels like too much was condensed from the novel to fit a just under two hour running time, resulting in a film that feels too short for its ambitions, but too long for what it actually is. The film opens with an effective sequence showing the four elderly leads (Fred Astaire, John Houseman, Douglas Fairbanks Jr, and Melvyn Douglas) being shaken from their sleep, set to an effectively eerie score by composer Phillipe Sarde. The film has nice snowy atmosphere, but Irvin has no feel for manufacturing thrills or working with special effects, diminishing what should be the film’s strongest moments. From there on, most of the scare tactics are juvenile jump scares and ineffective.

The other major flaw is the film’s schizophrenic tone. A major marketing of the film was the assembled cast from Hollywood’s past, but what’s not accounted for is that with the exception of Douglas none of the foursome is exactly known for their horror chops (though Houseman appeared in 1980’s The Fog and Douglas in The Changeling), and only Houseman actually seems particularly interested in the genre at this point. And sexuality is a major component for a movie starring several elderly people; hopefully the audience who grew up watching Astaire films appreciated their glimpses at a full frontal Craig Wasson!

31 Days of '81 Horror: Blood Beach (Jeffrey Bloom)

Thirty years later and that poster and its tagline (“Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water, you can’t get to it!”—a riff on the famous Jaws 2 marketing) is still indelible for genre fans. Unfortunately, it appears the poster was conceived first, probably by legendary exploitation market producer Jerry Gross (Teenage Mother, I Drink Your Blood), and the film second, since both that image as well as the tagline are recreated on screen (John Saxon gets the pleasure of reciting that line!)

Blood Beach combines elements from both the burgeoning slasher genre as well as the more classic 1950s era monster movie tropes and transplants them to a beach setting. A quiet community (played by Santa Monica) is shocked as residents seemingly vanish in thin air while on the beach. The effect of sand sucking people into it is pretty good considering the low budget of the film, though each victim seems to have a completely different injuries resulting via the sand monster that range from disappearing entirely, getting decapitated, the rapist who gets his dick torn off, and most heinous of all, the teenage girl whose legs get all scratched up!!!

The problem is that the set pieces are either very short or we just witness the aftermath, and for the rest of the running time we are stuck with long stretches comprised solely of the lame “witty banter” of cops Saxon, Otis Young and Burt Young and the budding rekindled romance of the bland lifeguard lead (David Huffman) and his old flame (Marianna Hill). When the “exciting” moments do occur on screen, they are over quickly and sans any sense of suspense or atmosphere from director Jeffrey Bloom (Flowers in the Attic). Spoiler alert: the monster perpetrating these acts looks like an artichoke.