Tag Archive | Poltergeist

Horror Movie Round-up Part II

Now that Halloween season is winding down, I thought I’d continue the “comprehensive” list of horror movies I’ve watched in the last couple of months.  This includes a few that I’ve seen since the list I posted last week.

Recommended:

Dead Alive

I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to get around to watching Dead Alive.  There’s no way to describe the blood and slime and hilarity and nausea in a way that would do this movie any justice.  I watched it with a friend the other night and we cringed and laughed our asses off the whole way through.  The only other movies I’ve seen that come close in terms of sheer, watching-with-mouth-hanging-open insanity are Hausu and Santa Sangre.  Whenever I think about Peter Jackson’s early films, like this or Meet the Feebles, I’m constantly amazed that this is the director they decided to entrust the Lord of the Rings trilogy with.  Maybe it shouldn’t be so surprising, though.  Dead Alive is a lovingly made film, with impeccable attention to detail.  If you haven’t seen it, stop whatever you’re doing now and watch the bloody thing.  I’ll wait.

Entertaining Diversions:

The Gate

I discussed this one briefly in my last post about suburban horror.  It’s not a frightening movie, rather a very silly one in some ways, but being a child of the 80s, I enjoyed the weird goofiness of the whole kid-focused, creepy, horror/fantasy thing, reminiscent of old favorites like Poltergeist, The Goonies, Gremlins, and the Monster Squad.  Plus, it has baby Stephen Dorff in it (who has always looked like a surly old man, apparently)!  And I really loved the best friend, the dorky know-it-all friend who “acts out” by wearing a leather jacket and listening to Satanic metal.

Return to Horror High

This was a fun horror comedy about a film crew that’s making a movie in an abandoned high school where a massacre took place a few years earlier.  Return to Horror High features Lori Lethin, who also starred in Bloody Birthday (a film I covered in Part 1), as well as a young George Clooney in his very first role! The plotline gets a little convoluted, but it’s nice to see an early example of a horror film that skewers the genre conventions by having a movie-within-a-movie – long before Scream 3.

The Burning

This is a pretty decent slasher film from 1981 (the year I was born) that catches a lot of actors early in their careers (Jason Alexander, Holly Hunter, Fisher Stevens).  There’s not too much suspense, since the killer and his motives are revealed from the get-go, but it’s a well-made movie with lots of gore and some neat twists on the summer camp slasher subgenre.  A scene near the beginning pretty much rips off Dario Argento – a prostitute gets stabbed in the heart, falls backwards through a shattering window.

Worth checking out if you’re bored:

Sleepaway Camp II: Unhappy Campers

Speaking of summer camp slashers!  The sequel to Sleepaway Camp is insanely watchable, if not entirely thrilling.  Felissa Rose from the original is replaced here by Pamela Springsteen (Bruce’s sister) as the affable and perky camp counselor Angela, who murders campers when they get out of line.  This movie has one of the funniest “meta” scenes I’ve seen in recent memory, when Angela searches the cabin, testing out each item for its effectiveness as a murder weapon.  It’s a nice twist on the serial killer who always has every possible implement of death at his/her fingertips.

Silent House

This movie is worth watching for the gimmick (filmed in one long “take,” or at least made to appear so) and for the unsettling mood created in the first three quarters.  The criticism I’ve read almost unanimously pans the ending, and I agree – it’s a terrible, terrible ending that I had figured out before I ever even saw the movie.  But it’s still a fascinating mess to watch at times.  Elizabeth Olsen is wonderful, too.

The Caller

So, I don’t know how this movie ever got made, or how they talked Luis Guzman into appearing, but bless their batshit crazy hearts.  The Caller had me in the palm of its hand for at least the first forty-five minutes; a young woman leaves her abusive husband and moves into a grimy apartment with a possessed telephone.  She keeps getting creepy phone calls from an unhinged and manipulative woman from the freaking past.  The movie kind of unravels toward the end, getting more and more sadistic and nonsensical (seriously, DO NOT attempt to think too hard about this movie).  But I’d like to commend the set designers for creating that apartment, at once depressing, quirky, cozy, and shabby.

Sorority House Massacre

Nowhere near as good as Slumber Party Massacre (no connection, really, beyond being made in the 80s and having the word “massacre” in the title), but it has its own cheesy charms.  Lots of boobs.  And a bunch-of-girls-trying-on-clothes musical montage.

Paranormal Activity 4

I talked about this one briefly in my last entry, too.  For me, this was the weakest entry in the series so far.  Most people complain about how formulaic the Paranormal Activity movies are, but I thought this one’s weakness was in how far it strayed from what works.  My roommate and I were freaked out by the earlier films because the slow burns were sooo slow.  Entire nights would pass by without any incident, but in the new film, the directors just couldn’t resist putting some kind of jump scare in every sequence.  This made it feel faster paced than its predecessors, but also too mechanical, with too much of a wink at the audience.

Next time — I’ll talk about the movies that didn’t work for me.

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Suburban Horror: From 80s Fantasy to Paranormal Activity

The Paranormal Activity franchise is like the Ikea furniture of film: they’re minimalist, functional, and completely disposable.  Even when it’s not the greatest thing in the world, it works.  My former roommate and I went to see the 4th installment last night at the Alamo Drafthouse.  Back when we lived together, we watched the 2nd and 3rd in the series, and now that she’s visiting town for Halloween, we saw the latest for old time’s sake.

There’s a big difference between watching these movies at home and watching them in the theater.  Watching at home, I was hyper-aware of the movie’s generic, domestic interiors because we were also surrounded by drab walls, cabinets, closet doors, the cookie-cutter accoutrements of modern living. My roommate and I huddled on the sofa, covering our faces with blankets when we knew something scary was going to happen.

Watching the movie in the theater was scarier in some ways; the big screen is more immersive, but when surrounded by other movie-goers, you also have your pride to consider.  I will not jump, cry out, or cower, so I steel myself extra hard.  On the other hand, in the theater I lost that sense of identification between my home and the home on the screen.  Also, it’s hard to be too scared when you’re eating pizza.  That’s just science, folks.

Architecture has always been an important component of horror movies and fear itself.  I grew up in a very old house (pre-Civil War era), and as a girl who was often afraid of her own shadow, it was like living in a real-life horror movie sometimes.  So many dark corners and hidden spaces: attics, chimneys, crawl spaces, hollow walls.  It makes sense that the traditional haunted house is a very old one that creaks at night.  The older a home is, the more likely that someone died there.  It also makes sense that ghosts, demons and evil forces would attach themselves to older structures, that ancient beings would feel a kinship to homes with history.

So it’s interesting, then, that so much horror of the last few decades has been set in shiny, anonymous suburban homes.  I have a weakness for movies that play with this juxtaposition of the old (evil forces) and the new (tract housing) even though I have never lived in the suburbs, myself.  This is part of the reason why I liked Ringu and Ju-on so much; there wasn’t anything inherently creepy about the plain and modern-looking Japanese homes, but the setting threw the horrific images of the ghosts into sharp relief.  (As a side note on effective juxtapositions, I also have mad respect for films that set their scariest sequences in broad daylight.) As I’ve mentioned before, Poltergeist was my favorite movie when I was a kid.  Maybe it wasn’t the first house-built-on-an-Indian-burial-ground film, but I think it’s had a large influence on how horror films deal with the tension between modernity and antiquity.

I just watched The Gate, a 1987 movie about a couple of kids who discover a portal to hell when their favorite tree is cut down.  It ticks off all the Poltergeist boxes: suburban home, underground evil, magic tree, creature under the bed, people trapped in the walls.  I liked the movie a lot. People have complained about how cheesy-looking the demons are, and they are somewhat comical but the movie was still unnerving due to a weird dream-logic that pervades every scene.

Another movie that’s a blatant rip-off of Poltergeist is the 2010 movie Insidious, although it seems to be more loving and knowing homage than shameless forgery.  The Buffy the Vampire Slayer television series also belongs on a list of suburban horror; Joss Whedon went to great lengths to contrast the sunny California neighborhoods and the typical American high school against the torments unleashed by the underground Hellmouth.

In suburban horror, we see the uncanny at work.  The dilapidated old mansion is scary because of its otherness; we don’t necessarily recognize our lives or routines in its vaulted ceilings, hardwood floors, or vintage wallpaper.  But when evil spirits invade our modern houses, the cozy and familiar places we call home suddenly become unfamiliar.

Home is where Hell is.

“Why Do You Love Horror Movies?”

Because I grew up in a house that was built before the Civil War.  It creaked and settled and knocked around at night.  There was a high probability someone had either died in the house or was buried in the yard somewhere.

Because I am a low-level sensation seeker, a scaredy-cat adrenaline junkie, who will never sky dive or snort coke but occasionally wants to indulge in a little emotional masochism.  Horror movies are designed purely to make you feel something, to shock or provoke an immediate reaction.

Because for some reason my parents allowed me to watch Poltergeist when I was a very small child and it became my favorite movie.  My babysitter even brought the tape over one night to watch with me because I loved it so much.

Because my parents left the light on in the hallway outside my bedroom, mistakenly thinking it would give me comfort, but really it cast shadows on my mantel that looked like blood trickling down.

Because I grew up with these books:

Because I grew up in a small town full of decaying antebellum homes, old cemeteries and Spanish moss.

Because not all horror is scary or disturbing.  Sometimes the movies can reach dizzying and glorious heights of absurdity and entertainment like few other genres.

Because my town was the home of local storytelling legend Kathryn Tucker Windham, who wrote ghost stories.  When you visited her house, there was one rocking chair you weren’t allowed to sit in, because that’s where Jeffery sat (her pet ghost).

Because I grew up in a remote, wooded countryside with no nearby neighbors and I constantly planned my escape route in case of a home invasion.

Because there was an old well under the back porch of my childhood home.

Because the heightened tension and emotions found in horror films can be a good platform for talking about the Big Issues or for getting at something deeper about human nature.

Because nothing can deliver a good WTF moment like a terrible, terrible horror movie.

Because, when you grow up in such close proximity to nature, you realize how small you are and how easily it can all go wrong, like the time a snake crawled up the side of the house and swallowed all the baby birds from their window nest where I’d been watching them grow.  Or the time we lost electricity for a week after a snowstorm and had to keep our water supply in a bathtub and cook our food over fire.  Or all the times I listened to mice and birds dying inside the walls after they fell from the attic.

Because of attics.

Because I owe my sexual awakening to Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise and Antonio Banderas in Interview with the Vampire.

Because horror is a genre and every genre has conventions and tropes that create limitations for writers to work around.  There’s a lot of derivative crap in the horror genre, but it’s all the more fascinating to see a filmmaker wring new life out of the same old stories.

Because we all know there may come a time when The Bad Thing happens to us, no matter what form it might take, and we want to inoculate ourselves, to prepare ourselves for the worst that life can throw at us.

Because laughing away the jitters is one of the best feelings in the world.  Hey guys, we made it.  We survived.

Why do you love horror movies?

Mother Suspiria Jumped the Gun: 31 Days of Horror

Make-Out With Violence

It’s October, which means I’ve been watching horror movies almost non-stop for the last three weeks.  In fact, I think my Netflix account is starting to judge me a little, each day coming closer to the conclusion that I’m a psychopath.  Everyone’s familiar with horror tropes by now, but those genre conventions are brought into even sharper relief when you watch movies back to back to back.  I’ve put together a few suggested double features based on the noticeable parallels.

 

The “She’s a Real Sweet Girl” Double Feature: May and Audition

The female leads in both films are shy, sweet, soft spoken, and endearingly off-kilter.  But you’d better run like hell, because they have a penchant for dismemberment.

 

The “Location, Location, Location” Double Feature: Session 9 and The Descent

The Danvers State Mental Hospital in Session 9 and the caverns in The Descent are both monsters in their own right, even before the spooky shit starts to happen.  The characters, already damaged by personal trauma, begin to unravel in claustrophobic spaces.  The Descent throws in literal monsters for good measure, but both films have a haunted, melancholy atmosphere that would have been frightening enough without things that go bump in the night.

 

The “You’re Not From Around Here” Double Feature: Don’t Look Now and The Wicker Man

Donald Sutherland and Edward Woodward both search frantically for a lost little girl (one dead, the other imaginary) in unfamiliar places (Venice/Summerisle).  Stymied at every turn by creepy old ladies and local authorities, they struggle to take power into their own hands.  Little do they know that a mysterious plot is tightening its noose around them. See also: Antichrist vs. Don’t Look Now.  Explicit married sex.  Death of a child. Restorative vacation turned destructive.

 

The “Let’s Go to the Mall” Double Feature: Return of the Living Dead and Night of the Comet

Teenagers! 80s Music! 80s Fashion! Talking Zombies! The government ruins everything! See also: Dawn of the Dead.

 

The “My Girlfriend is a Corpse” Double Feature: Deadgirl and Make-Out with Violence

Make-Out with Violence is a much sweeter and more subdued film, but both are twisted coming of age tales about teenage boys and their friendships.  Plus an undead girl tied to the bed.  Deadgirl seems to be about impotence (or misogyny, or something), while Make-Out with Violence is more about coping with grief, but both films are creepy parables about playing house with a girl too zonked to even participate in the relationship.  See also: Doghouse vs. Deadgirl, on the zombie chauvinism front.  Alternately, Lake Mungo vs. Make-Out with Violence, from the “ghosts and zombies are a metaphor for not letting go of loved ones” angle.

 

The “Shit’s All Freaky” Double Feature: Poltergeist and Insidious

Haunted houses.  Creepy children. Malevolent spirits.  Objects that move around by themselves.  Alternate dimensions.  Psychics and hapless ghost hunters.  Insidious even features a subtle homage to Poltergeist when one of the embattled ghost hunters soothes his bruises with a steak to the face.  Sadly, the steak does not crawl across the table. See also: House of the Devil, another straight-faced modern film with a loving callback to spooky 80s movies.

 

The “Vampires Are So 2010” Double Feature: Cronos and Thirst

Two directors known for daring and originality: Guillermo Del Toro and Chan-Wook Park (Oldboy).  Two takes on vampire mythology so radical that the classic creatures of the night are barely even recognizable.

 

Here are the other movies I’ve watched in the last few weeks, even though I couldn’t quite pair them up for an effective double feature:

Dario Argento’s Inferno (probably best with any other Argento film, especially Suspiria)

Peeping Tom (pair with another moody classic, like Eyes Without a Face, Diabolique, or something by Hitchcock)

Red State

Frozen

Them (suggested with atmospheric European thrillers, like The Vanishing or another home invasion story, The Strangers.)

 

October isn’t over yet.  More to come.