“Halloween” Series – That First Great Slice and The Best of the Rest

"Halloween"

Released:  1978

Director:  John Carpenter

Writer: John Carpenter & Debra Hill

Starring: Donald Pleasence, Jamie Lee Curtis, P.J. Soles, Nancy Loomis

"Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers"

Released:  1988

Director:  Dwight H. Little

Writer: Alan B. McElroy

Starring: Donald Pleasence, Ellie Cornell, Danielle Harris, Michael Pataki

"You can’t kill the Boogey Man!”

I first saw John Carpenter’s Halloween as a midnight show during the 1980 re-release.  I’d been too young to get in during the initial run, but I was 17 when it finally rolled back around.  No parent or guardian required now, baby.  Haddonfield, here we come!

I went with a friend who’d been lucky enough to see it in ‘78.  For two years, I listened to him go on and on about how scary it was.  Finally, I could see for myself.  So... Was it the Boogey Man? 

As a matter of fact, it was.

Every fan should see Halloween in a crowded theater, at least once.  Carpenter frames the film as a series of reveals, and leaves it up to each viewer to catch on.  As a result, you can literally feel waves of fear ripple through the crowd, as each new person spots Michael in the background of this shot or that.

In fact, I can thank Carpenter’s eye for framing as the reason why I never became a VHS collector.

Don’t get me wrong, I was a kid in a candy store when the first rental shops opened, just like every other film geek.  Then one night, I decided to introduce my roommate, Scott (he, who would have none of Pieces), to Halloween.

The VHS transfer was murky.  Bad news for the night scenes.  Worse, it was pan & scan.  Carpenter’s brilliant use of the rectangular Cinemascope frame had been chopped down to a center-cut square.  As they say in the disclaimers, “formatted to fit your television.”

Or as I like to say, formatted to cut-off half of the movie.

For much of the viewing, I couldn’t figure out why the film wasn’t as scary as I remembered.  Then, we hit the money shot.  The one that made me jump out of my seat in the theater.

Laurie Strode discovers her dead friends.  She collapses against a darkened doorway.  We hold on her terrified face.  Off to the side, a white mask ever so slowly becomes visible.  Michael is right beside her!

Be-De-Booo!

There’s even a musical sting on the soundtrack to goose you, in case you hadn’t yet noticed Michael for yourself.

Watching the film with Scott, I tensed up on instinct as Laurie collapsed against the door.  And, then… Nothing.  The sting came and went.  We both sat there, unmoved.  Michael was a no show.  He’d been cropped out of the frame! 

Scott shrugged his indifference as the end credits rolled.  I made a mental note about the drawbacks of VHS.

Calendar pages flew by.  I caught Halloween II on cable.  Meh…

I saw Halloween III: Season of the Witch opening weekend with Scott.  I loved it.  Scott, not so much.  For the rest of October, I tormented him with the Silver Shamrock jingle.  “Hurry up, it's Halloween, Halloween, Halloween…”

I was temporarily back in New Jersey when Halloween 4 opened.  By then, I’d seen one too many bad Slashers.  When it played our local twin, I laid down my money for U2’s Rattle & Hum, instead of The Return of Michael Myers.

The next Halloween film that I saw was H20.  Again, in a theater.  I liked that enough that I sought out the others on this fancy new format called DVD.

Eventually, I came to see all of the films in the series.  In the wrong order… some in theaters, some on home video… and many, years after their initial release.  A hodgepodge.  My thoughts on the series were just as disorganized.

“What’s your favorite sequel?”

“Um, I remember one of them was pretty good.  Was it 5?  No, maybe 4?” 

“How about 6?”

“Uh, which was that?”

Thoughtful analysis, this was not.  And that brings us full circle… To this Halloween.

It was a rough October.  My mother fell and fractured her wrist.  That set off a bunch of related, but unexpected, complications and left me spending a lot of time at her place, playing caregiver.

As a reward for being such a good son, I decided to do something completely selfish.  A huge storm was forecast to hit L.A. on the Friday before Halloween.  A perfect excuse not to leave the house!  I told my mom to call if she needed anything, made a big pot of coffee and then curled up in front of the TV.

For the next 16 hours, I binge-watched all eight of the original Halloween movies.  For those keeping score at home, that’s Michael Myers: 7, Conal Cochran: 1.

Ripping through much of Shout! Factory’s outstanding Halloween: The Complete Collection in a single sitting (the 15-disc Limited Deluxe Edition… Who wants to touch me?), I was able to gather my thoughts on the series as a whole.

The first thing I noticed is that the movies pair up nicely into double features, which is great for planning much needed breaks:

Halloween I and II make the complete "Night HE Came Home". 

Halloween 4 and 5 form “The Jamie Lloyd Saga".

Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers and H20 mark “Two Ends for Two Arcs”.

Resurrection and Halloween III remain “Outliers”, the movies with the least connection to the others.

Next, I was able to gain some clarity on the usual fanboy disagreements:

Is Halloween II better than H20, just because Carpenter was involved in one but not the other?  Is Resurrection worse than The Curse of Michael Myers, just because one is gleefully stupid while the other is earnestly so?  Is Halloween III the worst, just because it doesn’t feature Michael Myers?

At last, I can say with confidence: no, no, and don’t even talk to me.

Last, but not least, I came to appreciate just how good Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers really is.

For the record, here's my final ranking:

Halloween

Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers

Halloween III: Season of the Witch

Halloween H20: Twenty Years Later

Halloween II

Halloween 5: The Revenge of Michael Myers

Halloween: Resurrection

Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers

You can argue with my order for the lesser titles, but not the top two.  If Carpenter’s original is indisputably the gold standard, Halloween 4 is a lock for the silver. 

Halloween 4 pulls off an almost impossible feat.  It is both a respectful bookend to the original as well as something completely fresh.  It’s the movie you wish Halloween II could have been.

I’ll push even further.  In some ways, Halloween 4 surpasses the original. 

Say whaaaaaa?

That isn’t a knock on Halloween.  The original is the ultimate suspense machine.  By design, the first 70 minutes are all set-up.  Threads are opened and left to dangle as Carpenter tightens the noose.

Why did Michael steal Judith’s tombstone?  What is he doing over there at Annie’s?  Will Loomis ever catch on to what’s happening?  Is there a Boogey Man?  And if so, can you kill him?

Then, we hit the final act.  And 20 perfect minutes.

Laurie steps out on the porch.  She looks at the darkened house across the street. What is going on over there?  Tentatively, she starts to walk over…

From that moment on, Carpenter hits us with an avalanche of pay-offs, each more shocking than the last.  By the time he’s done, we’re left cowering on the floor, like Laurie herself.

Halloween 4 does not end with 20 perfect minutes, but it does build to one perfect moment.  The ending.

But let’s start at the beginning.  And the not so perfect.

The first half hour of Halloween 4 is a bumpy ride.  Right away we’re into a scene that reveals Michael and Dr. Loomis somehow survived the explosive finale from Halloween II.  Worse, some dumb administrator has once again decided to move Michael on the night before Halloween.

Personally, none of that bothers me.  It’s a sequel, folks!  They have to get the knife back into Michael’s hand somehow.  You buy the ticket, you take the ride.

What does bother me is the poor handling of the “Nightmare man” dreams.

Although director Dwight Little proves adept at generating suspense by the end of the film, he repeatedly blows a simple cinematic trick in the early going.  It’s the old Slasher trope of “now you see him, now you don’t.” 

Carpenter beats this horse to death in the original.  But it works in that film.  Every single time…  Here, something is off in the editing and, frankly, the results are confusing as fuck.

The hardware store scene, for example:  Little Jamie Lloyd shops for a costume.  Behind her, Michael’s scarred hand reaches down to steal a mask.  We see this, Jamie does not.  Since the shot is not from anyone’s POV, Michael must really be there. 

Moments later, Michael steps up behind Jamie.  She freaks out, crashes into a mirror, and he disappears.  That moment is played like another of Jamie’s bad dreams.

So, which is it?  If Michael is there, why didn’t he just kill Jamie?  If he’s not there, why did we see something no one else did?  For the sake of a quick scare, logic is shattered.

One mistake can be forgiven.  Little attempts this trick four times in the first 30 minutes and it never makes sense.  Not once.  That’s a huge red flag.

In his commentary on the Anchor Bay DiviMax DVD, writer Alan B. McElroy, points out these flaws and explains what he and Little were trying to accomplish.  Had they been able to nail the “Nightmare man” theme, as McElroy presents, the film would have been much stronger.  The fact that the ending still plays as well as it does, despite the botched set-up, is a testament to the strength of the idea.

Now for the good… And there’s a lot of it.

The main characters in Halloween 4 ­– Jamie, Rachel, Sheriff Meeker – draw upon counterparts in the original, yet each is unique and compelling.  Even Loomis is stronger in this sequel.

In the original, the relationship between Laurie and Tommy Doyle – babysitter and child – is central to the film.  Tommy is one of the first characters that Laurie runs into that Halloween morning and he is also the one who connects Michael to the Boogey Man legend.

McElroy retains that core sitter/child relationship for his story, but wisely flips the script.  Who could be more vulnerable than a virginal, teenage babysitter?  How about a seven-year-old orphan girl!

Halloween 4 is told through the eyes of Jamie.  This is a bold move.  One false step and the audience could turn on the filmmakers:  How DARE they torture a helpless child like that?!

Yet Jamie isn’t helpless, and the decision to focus on her makes the film deeper and darker.

Let’s face it, Laurie Strode doesn’t have much of a backstory.  She’s a smart girl who can’t get a date.  That makes for some fun banter, but great drama?  Nuh-uh.

Jamie Lloyd, on the other hand, has issues.  Her parents are dead, she’s struggling to find her place within a foster family, and she has recurring nightmares that someone is out to get her.  Now, that’s drama!

A special shout-out to Danielle Harris for her wonderful performance as Jamie in her debut film.  Danielle’s face reflects her emotions with such transparency that she both steals your heart (“Double scoops?”) and breaks it (“Whoever you are, I have a big dog and he bites!”).  Plus, her final scowl is positively chilling.

Ellie Cornell is appealing, as well, as Rachel Carruthers, Jamie’s foster sister.  McElroy pins the heart of the film on Rachel’s arc, which is summed up nicely in a line from her dad: “That little girl needs all the love we can give her and all you can do is think about yourself.”

From that moment on, Rachel does everything she can to show Jamie how much she cares, from taking her trick-or-treating to running over the Nightmare Man with a pick-up truck.

Even a supporting character like Sheriff Meeker is given a moment or two to shine.  In the original, Sheriff Brackett is relegated to the role of Loomis’s sidekick.  He never confronts Michael and never realizes that his own daughter is in danger.

In Halloween 4, Meeker is a man of action.  He scoops up the girls and brings them to his house, to protect them from Michael.  Then, he grabs his shotgun and hits the streets, to protect his town from the “beer bellies.”  When the shit hits the fan, Meeker is the man you want at your side.

Loomis has a better arc, as well.  The film both celebrates and openly questions his obsession with Michael.  This uneasy mix is nicely illustrated when Loomis almost shoots a trick-or-treater dressed as Michael, only to back off when two other kids appear with the same costume.

As with many moments throughout Halloween 4, the incident recalls an earlier one.  This time, from Halloween II: the scene where unlucky Ben Tramer is mistaken for Michael, chased at gunpoint into the street by Loomis, and hit by a car.

The scene plays better in Halloween 4.  Not only does it make more sense – Michael’s infamous mask could have become a meme by ‘88, whereas Tramer couldn’t possibly have been dressed as Michael on that night in ’78 – but we also get to witness Loomis’s confidence cracking over his near fatal mistake.  In Halloween II, he refuses to acknowledge that he might be wrong.

In another moment that builds upon ideas from the earlier films, Loomis declares that he has defeated the “E-ville” at the end, only to discover that it very much lives on.  In the original, Loomis processes this failure with unblinking disbelief.  In Halloween 4, he loses his mind!  His anguished cries of “No, NO!” cement the film’s powerful ending.

Finally, there are the “Beer Bellies.”  These all new, all drunk, all heavily armed buffoons start out as comic relief and end up as body count.  In between, they provide a tragic distraction for the Sheriff and even achieve a whiff of redemption by the end.  Their inclusion makes for the type of entertaining subplot that would have helped Halloween II immensely.

Of course the lifeblood of any Slasher is the set piece, and Halloween 4 delivers some classics:  The trick-or-treat separation, the Meeker house lockdown, the rooftop escape, and even the absurd pick-up truck massacre.

Each is completely original and the constant change in setting, as well as attack, keeps the story moving along nicely.

And then there’s that ending.

I won’t spoil the twist, but I will say it is heart-breaking and well earned.  It circles back to the original with a clever nod and makes you identify with the monster in a way that Rob Zombie’s remake can only dream of.  It is one of those endings that is so satisfying that it makes you want to re-watch the entire film again as soon as you see it.

Looking back on it now, I wish I’d bought a ticket for Halloween 4 on that long ago October night.   Seeing the film in a crowded theater, on opening weekend, might have been as much fun as seeing the original.

This time, along with waves of fear, there would have been waves of surprise.  A person here, a person there… Setting aside their doubts and getting caught up in the movie.  For each viewer, a different tipping point.

Perhaps it’s when Jamie makes a new friend while trick-or-treating, or when Rachel catches her date at the home of the Sheriff’s daughter.  And you realize that you actually like these characters.

Or maybe it’s when Sheriff Meeker accepts Loomis’s story, instead of denying the danger, or when Loomis encourages the beer bellies to patrol the streets, because they are all that stands between the town and Michael Myers.  And you think, Hey, wait a minute… These people are acting smart, instead of stupid…

And that’s when the anticipation sets in.  Could it be?  Could this sequel actually be good? 

As horror fans, we want to believe.  Please, let this group of untested filmmakers succeed where the others have failed.  Let this movie make us fear the Boogey Man, again.

A movie like Halloween 4 rewards the trip back to Haddonfield.

Footnotes:

1. The pictures on this page are screengrabs from the Anchor Bay DVDs, not the Shout! Factory Blu-rays because my computer set-up is that old.  Besides, the photos are heavily compressed and do not represent the actual PQ, anyway.

2. Yes, I’ve seen both cuts of The Curse of Michael Myers and, no, I don’t find the so-called Producer’s Cut to be any sort of revelation.  The entire "Curse of Thorn" detour is a mistake.  Plain & simple.

3. For reasons unknown, Anchor Bay dropped the writer’s commentary for the Blu-ray of Halloween 4.  Therefore, it did not make it into the Shout! Factory box set, either.  This is my only real gripe with the set, which can be bought here.  It’s not a deal-breaker, but McElroy’s commentary is fun and informative.  Seek it out, if you’re curious.

Underrated '86

Something a little different for you, this time, folks.

Bob Freelander is hosting a wonderful series over at RupertPupkin Speaks, inviting guest bloggers to discuss the most underrated films of 1986.

I’ve decided to play along. 

You see, 1986 was a watershed year for me.  That spring, I graduated from the UCLA Motion Picture & Television Department, ready and raring to go conquer Hollywood.  Fueling my wide-eyed optimism was a banner crop of life-changing films that opened that year.  Yeah, I said it.  Life-changing!  Movies that spoke of love and life… And that whispered the secrets of storytelling.

Forget a Top 10 list, I could easily craft a Top 25 for 1986!

In fact, in order to narrow down my own Underrated ’86 list, I had to apply strict guidelines.

1) No films that I didn’t actually see in 1986. 

Sorry, Betty Blue, Sid & Nancy, and A Better Tomorrow, but we didn’t meet and fall in love until much later.

2) No films that were huge hits at the time

I heart you Aliens, Back to School, and The Color of Money.  And so does everyone else.

3) No films, no matter how brilliant, that I don’t re-visit on a regular basis

I’ll catch you later, Something Wild, Salvador, and At CloseRange.   It’s not you, it’s me.

What’s left are a handful of mangy mutts.  Each has some flaw, real or imagined, that wounded it in the eyes of the public.   Yet, I find my appreciation growing with each passing year.

So, let’s get started! 

Big Trouble In Little China

Big Trouble in Little China threw me a lifeline in the weeks after graduating college. 

My life had completely changed – I was done with school! – and it hadn’t changed at all.  I was still working the same dead end, fast food job in L.A., and I still had a summer job in a factory waiting for me in New Jersey.  Same shit, different year.

By this time, I was already a huge fan of both John Carpenter and Kurt Russell, but there was a third name in the mix that made me even more excited to see this film: Co-screenwriter W.D.Richter.  A couple of years before, Richter directed a film called The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension, which is a completely uncategorizable sci-fi/rock ‘n’ roll/superhero mash-up. 

The film played a run of midnight shows at the Nuart Theater in L.A. and became a touchstone for a group of friends and I who worked there.   The movie is packed with all of these strange, nonsense asides and we loved hurling quotes at each other, as we tore tickets and shoveled popcorn.

By the time BTiLC came out, the group had become scattered.  Yet, as the lights dimmed and the film came up, I felt like I was right back in their company.  

BTiLC has some of the most quotable lines of the ‘80s:

  “It’s all in the reflexes!”

  “If we’re not back by dawn… Call the president.”

  “Everybody relax.  I’m here.”

  “I feel kind of… Invincible.”

  “You know what Jack Burton always says at a time like this?”

  “Jack Burton.  Me!”

The lines may seem meaningless outside the context of the movie, but the joke is that they are just as ridiculous in context.  Yet, when you’re in over your head, and the weight of adulthood is staring you down like a wild-eyed, eight-foot tall maniac, you could do worse than remember what ol’ Jack Burton always says at a time like this…

“Have you paid your dues, Jack?”  “Yessir, the check’s in the mail.”

I saw the film four times in two weeks, and then Aliens opened.  1986 was that kind of year.

8 Million Ways to Die

I saw 8 Million Ways to Die in a half-empty house on opening night.  That was rare in Westwood, back in the day, when even obvious crap, such as St. Elmo’s Fire, would sell out.

The ensuing years have not been kinder. 

The film has never been released on DVD or Blu-ray in the US.  In fact, after my well-loved VHS started to falter, I had to import a DVD from the U.K.

Honestly, I can’t understand how this film has become so forgotten.  Written by Oliver Stone (and David Lee Henry), directed by Hal Ashby and starring Jeff Bridges, Roseanna Arquette and Andy Garcia, the production is A-list all the way. 

Have you ever heard of Andy Garcia?  Do you know why?!  This film!!

Let’s put it this way… Jeff Bridges gives one of his best performances, as alcoholic detective, Matthew Scudder.  Yet, Garcia almost over-shadows him, in his first major role.

Garcia’s performance is so unpredictable, so entertaining that he literally made himself a star here.  As the dangerously coked-up drug dealer, Angel Maldonado.  Garcia flirts with going over the top, perhaps best exemplified by his peevish insistence on pronouncing Scudder’s name as “Scooter” throughout the film.  Yet, you never doubt for a moment that underneath the cool surface, a psychotic rage boils inside Maldonado.

Accompanying the action is a wonderfully woozy score by James Newton Howard.  Certain films make me stop and watch them, no matter what I am doing, as soon as I hear the opening notes of their themes:  8 Million Ways to Die, The Dead Zone (Composer: Michael Kamen), and The Hitcher (Composer: Mark Isham) top that list.

Speaking of The Hitcher…

The  Hitcher

As soon as C. Thomas Howell’s character threw open his car door to Rutger Hauer’s hitchhiker and uttered the immortal line, “My mother warned me never to do this,” I knew that I was going to love The Hitcher.

What I didn’t expect was how much every one else would hate it.

Today, The Hitcher may seem downright restrained in its violence, but at the time of its release, it stirred up a shit-storm.  Famously, the "Los Angeles Times" ran a cover story, in its Sunday Calendar section, with the poisonously double-edged headline: “How do these movies get made?”

To this day, The Hitcher remains the most unfairly maligned film of the ‘80s.

The vitriol with which it was attacked probably helped make it one of my favorite films.  Time and again, I re-visit it, partly because it is such a great ride, and partly to mine for evidence against claims that it is misogynistic and pointless.  The film is so stripped down, in both characterization and motive, that its theme is stubbornly elusive.  Yet something deep and disturbing churns beneath the surface of this sunny actioner.

To me, the film is very much akin to the later, more celebrated Seven.  It rewards repeat viewings.

Still not convinced?   Watch it anyway, if only to hear composer Mark Isham’s complex, haunting, and otherwise unavailable score.   Man, would I love to watch this film with an isolated music track! 

Twilight Time, are you listening?

One day, I’ll give this film the in-depth post it deserves (as I’ve promised since Day One).  Until then, swing open your door and give it a lift.

Manhunter & The Fly

I lump these last two films together because I saw them together.

They were released within weeks of each in August 1986, as I was winding up that final summer at home with my mom, before moving back to Los Angeles for good.   You know, to conquer Hollywood, and all that…

Somehow, during this time, my mom and I had fallen into a habit of going to the movies every Wednesday night.   For one of our last outings, I suggested Manhunter, as my mom likes thrillers.  Once that ended, I talked her into sneaking over to see The Fly, on the screen next door!    What a strange double-bill to see with your mom, right?  Regardless, I was immediately taken with both films.

Of course, Manhunter suffers from being “that other Hannibal Lechter film,” the one made before Anthony Hopkins stole (and ate) our hearts in The Silence of the Lambs.  In fact, this film was later remade, as Red Dragon, solely so they could have Hopkins reprise the role of Lechter, one last time (Brian Cox plays him here.  Different, but no less effective). 

They shouldn’t have bothered.  There was nothing wrong with this film in the first place.

Lektor (as the good doctor’s name is spelled in Manhunter…for no apparent reason) is only the appetizer.  William Petersen’s performance, as FBI agent, Will Graham, is the main course.

Throughout the film, Graham struggles with how far to push himself, while trying to climb into the headspace of the serial killer whom he’s tracking. “They’re the worst thoughts in the world,” he explains to his son at one point.

Finally, in one of my favorites scenes of that year, Graham cracks how the killer is choosing his victims.

On the eve of the next murder, with no breakthrough in sight, Graham dives off the deep end.  He watches the 8mm family films of the previous victims, over and over, trying to see these people as the killer does. “See the woman?  See the bloom on the woman?”  He’s skating the edge of sanity, and sending back dispatches that only barely make sense

Petersen is magnetic in this scene and Graham’s sudden, stunning insight into the killer’s MO is one of the great meta- moments in cinema.

Ever wonder how TV came to be awash in crime scene forensics and criminal profiling shows?  This film (and the book on which it based) led the way.

As for The Fly, the film needs no defense from me.  Along with John Carpenter’s The Thing, it is rightly considered one of the best remakes of all time.   Yet, I’m not convinced that it fully receives its props as a love story.

I’m not kidding.

I mean, I’m all in for the David Cronenberg body-horror, as well as the quintessentially quirky performance by Jeff Goldblum.  But, as Cronenberg has pointed out, this film is at heart a tragic love story.  Befitting a tragedy, it has the most heartless ending ever. 

Spoilers ahead... 

When his final teleportation awry, Goldblum becomes an abomination, a man/pod/insect hybrid.  Geena Davis, the ex-lover, is repulsed by what he has become yet still has feelings for the man that he was.  She grabs a shotgun but can’t bring herself to kill him.   He pleads, and out of love, or mercy, or pity, she pulls the trigger.   Boom!    His head explodes. 

And… black.   The End.

Wait.  What?

Imagine for a moment, if Love Story, the weepy classic from the ‘70s, ended the second that Jenny died.  No reconciliation between Oliver and his father.  No final narration, celebrating all that was Jenny.   Just boop-boop-beeeeeeeeeeep! 

And… black.

This is a cruel and cunning move by Cronenberg.    Any other film would have had a comforting coda to ease us back into the world of the living, as we watch Davis’s character pull it together and move forward…  Life goes on, right?

Not in this film, it doesn’t.

Right at the pinnacle of despair and horror?  Black...  Show’s over, folks!  Sort through all of those complex emotions on the way home.   Have a nice night!

This abrupt cessation -- movie/no movie -- hits you exactly like your worst break-up.   There is no hope, no glimmer of light.  There is no…more.  It’s over.  Deal with it.

And you thought this was just a fable about technology gone awry, didn’t you?  Ha!  Your ex-girlfriend called.  She wants your future back.

                                                                                     *****

There you have it, folks.  1986!  An important time in my life.  Fresh out of school, whole life ahead of me, a bevy of great movies pointing the way to success in Hollywood…

30 years ago... Where does the time go? 

And… black.

Footnotes:

1. Tell me you don't want to watch the rest of the movie after hearing the opening theme of 8 Million Ways to Die, above.  Also, tell me that the credits design did not influence Nicolas Winding Refn for Drive.

2. All of the screen grabs for the posters were taken from MoviePoster.com, a site that I wish existed in 1986.

3. Big Trouble in Little China and The Fly have been treated well by Fox on home video.  Blu-rays of each available on Amazon, here and here.

4. Manhunter has just been re-released as a Collector's Edition blu-ray from the always awesome folks at Shout! Factory, available here.

5. The Hitcher and 8 Million Ways to Die are the least respected, as always.  Go region-free and pick up these great DVD releases of the title from Amazon U.K., here and here.

“Make Them Die Slowly” on The Deuce

(a/k/a "Cannibal Ferox")

Released:  1983 (in USA)

Director:  Umberto Lenzi

Writer:  Umberto Lenzi

Starring:  Giovanni Radice (as John Morghen), Lorraine De Selle, Danilo Mattei (as Bryan Redford), Zora Kerova, Walter Lucchini (as Walter Lloyd), Fiamma Maglione (as Meg Fleming)

"Oh God, please let her die soon...And let me die soon, too, please!"

Recently, I visited New York City for the first time in about 20 years.  Although I was only there for the weekend, I carved out time to stroll The Deuce on Saturday night.

The makeover of Times Square was well underway the last time that I walked those streets.  So, I wasn’t surprised to find the grindhouses of 42nd Street gone.  Still, the area retains its electric vibe and it was a nice to see outposts of AMC Theaters and Regal Cinemas had opened on the block.

At least, you can still catch a movie in the one-time “Entertainment Capital of the World”.

I was even more delighted to see that the old Liberty Theater is now one of those “Odditoriums” for Ripley’s Believe It or Not!  

How perfect is that?

One summer night, in the early ‘80s, I stood in front of the Liberty for about a half-hour trying to screw up enough courage to cross the threshold…

They were showing a pair of films that I could scarcely believe existed.   The titles were impossibly lurid.  The images on the posters, beyond shocking.   The double-bill?

Trap Them and Kill Them and Make Them Die Slowly.

At this point, your vision should become all wavy, as we flashback to a simpler time.  Before the author was forced to confront the complete depravity of the Italian cannibal genre...

When I was about 15 or 16, I started buying the “Village Voice” from my local newsstand in Cranford, N.J.  That paper opened up a whole new world of moviegoing to me.

Soon, my friends and I began to trek in to the awesome revival houses in Manhattan: 8th Street Playhouse, Bleeker Street Cinemas, the Thalia.  For our efforts, we were introduced to the works of Kubrick, Scorcese, Bergman, and even Russ Meyer.

The trip in from New Jersey could go one of two ways.  If you took the train into Manhattan, you stepped out at Penn Station.  33rd Street.  Madison Square Garden, Macy’s, Empire State Building...  Nice neighborhood. 

If you took the bus in, you stepped out into Port Authority.  42nd Street and 8th Ave.  Literally, the belly of the beast.

As far back as I can remember I wanted to visit 42nd Street.  I’d watch all those cautionary tales about the big city, you know the ones: Taxi Driver, Death Wish, The Exterminator…  And in every one, there’s a scene where the hero walks down 42nd Street.

Oh sure, in the movies, he (always a he) ends up propositioned by a strung-out hooker, threatened by a switchblade-wielding pimp, or mugged by some coked-up street punks.

But BEFORE that happens, usually in some darkly lit alley, the hero is first seen walking down one of the most brightly lit and garishly colorful streets in America. 

It wasn’t the sex or drugs or violence that I wanted to see.  It was those movie theaters!

Seriously.  Go back and re-watch those films.  42nd Street looks like the coolest place on earth!   All of those marquees, barely in focus, behind the narrowing eyes of our pushed-too-far hero, promising “Three Big Hits!” or “Double-Fisted Fury.”

The best my local Cranford Theater could muster was, “Kiddie Matinee.” 

The first time that I stepped onto 42nd Street I could not believe my eyes.  It was even BETTER than it looked in the movies!  There were a dozen theaters on that single block, between 7th and 8th Avenues.

And they showed the craziest flicks!

I used to convince my friends to swing by there, on our way to a more sensible part of town, just so I could check out the posters.

During one of our excursions, we ran into the Original Cocaine Smitty, Jr.  He walked right up and introduced himself, just like that.  He was a drug dealer, of course, but you probably guessed that.

Smitty tried to usher us into his “office”, which was the Church’s Fried Chicken on 42nd and 8th.  When we politely declined, he sized us up and declared, “Why the hell did you drag your white asses all the way out from Jersey if you don’t want some blow?” 

It was a scene right out of one of those movies!

That was 30 years ago.  Since then, I’ve met hundreds of people whose names I can no longer remember.  But I’ve never forgotten the Original Cocaine Smitty, Jr.

As we never actually DID anything on 42nd Street, except gawk, my friends soon grew tired of Times Square.   So, I went on my own.

I’d walk the block, and plan an imaginary night of moviegoing.  Should I see the pair of Kung Fu flicks, or maybe the Blaxploitation triple-bill?  Then, I’d come up with some excuse not to go inside.  “I’ve already seen that first movie,” or “The poster for the bottom half of the bill looks really bad.”

Eventually, I’d hop on the subway and do something far from the chicken joint that the Original Cocaine Smitty, Jr. called home.  Far from those other chicken places, as well.  The ones burned into my brain at the tip of John Eastland’s flamethrower.

Then, came that summer night.  I spotted the marquee as soon as I turned the corner.

Trap Them and Kill Them and Make Them Die Slowly.

What.  The.  Fuck?!?!

I knew movies.  I read the “Village Voice”, for god’s sake!  Yet Andrew Sarris and J. Hoberman never mentioned these.  It was like a giant rift in the space/time continuum had opened up before me.

Carefully, I sidestepped the abyss and circled the block, as usual.  I looked over the other posters, but all I could think about was the Liberty.  Eventually, I found myself back in their foyer.

“The Most Violent Film Ever Made” screamed the placard over the entranceway.  “Banned in 31 Countries!”  There was a portable TV near the box office, which showed the trailer on a loop.

I couldn’t process any of this.

At that point, I’d never heard of the cannibal genre.  In fact, I’d only seen one Italian gore film, Lucio Fulci’s Zombie, and I hadn’t yet learned that that film was Italian!

The trailer didn’t help.  It featured scenes of some cheesy New York crime film, intercut with…I don’t know what.  Raw footage of hell?

What the fuck were these films? 

Of course, the answer was right inside.  I just had to buy a ticket… I hemmed and hawed.

One the one hand, this was surely the only time these films would ever screen in public.  By the next morning, anyone who worked at this theater would be in jail and the prints of these features, or whatever they were, would be burned.

On the other hand, if New York was as dangerous as all of those movies made it seem, and if Times Square was a magnet for the worst of the worst, then surely EVERY PERVERT IN THE CITY was inside this theater right now!

What to do?  What to do??

I did what any white-ass boy from New Jersey would do.  I thrust my hands down into my pockets and skulked away. 

I turned my back on Make Them Die Slowly.  But like the original Cocaine Smitty, Jr., I couldn’t forget it.

I reshaped the whole humiliating evening into a humorous story, which I told to anyone who ever brought up Times Square.  “Guess what was playing there?  Go on, guess!”  It never failed to get a chuckle of disbelief.

A few years later, I was living in Los Angeles and working at Trans World Entertainment, a Cannon Films wannabe.  One of of my duties as a “runner” was to swing by the warehouse and pick up promo pieces and screeners for the sales staff. 

One day while helping the warehouse guys search the shelves, I came across a stack of posters for Make Them Die Slowly.   It turns out that one of the heads of TWE also ran a company called Continental Motion Pictures, which held rights to the film in Central America, or some such place.  I asked, but no one on the sales staff had a VHS copy.

A decade went by.  I now lived in Hollywood and loved hanging out at the fleapit cinemas on the Boulevard.  Imagine my shock, when I picked up the “L.A. Weekly” one day in 1997 and saw an ad for a screening of Cannibal Ferox (the more accurate name for Make Them Die Slowly), about a mile from my apartment…

Held the night before!

Of course, that screening at the Vine Theater lives on forever, as it was videotaped by Sage Stallone and Bob Murawski and the footage later included as an extra on the DVD.  Cannibal Ferox was one of the first releases from Grindhouse Releasing and you’d better believe that I snatched it up as soon as it hit the shelves.

So, you may ask, how is this film, that burned its name so deeply into memory?  It’s pretty crappy, actually.

In the years that have gone by, I’ve read enough to understand Cannibal Ferox’s place within that strange offshoot of Italian horror, the cannibal genre.  And thanks to the internet and the DVD revolution, I’ve now tracked down most of the related films. 

They are as violent, sleazy, racist, misogynistic and, above all else, morally indefensible as you’ve heard.  That said, I’ll argue that there are some compelling ideas in a few of the cannibal films, including that OTHER notorious entry, Cannibal Holocaust.

Cannibal Ferox?  Not so much.

Still, if you are fan of F’dup Flix, and have a strong stomach, it remains a rite of passage.

Cannibal Ferox was directed by Umberto Lenzi, who made a string of fine Giallo and Poliziotteschi films (Italian slasher and crime films, respectively).  Lenzi also directed an interesting adventure film called Man from Deep River. 

That flick is a rip-off of the American Western, A Man Called Horse, with Thai tribesmen subbing for Native Americans.  Aside from the locale switch, it had one other minor twist.  The main tribe, the one that comes to accept the white warrior, lives in fear of another, even more barbaric tribe.  One that EATS their enemies.

And with that simple, sleazy addition, Lenzi gave birth to the cannibal genre.

By the time of Cannibal Ferox, Lenzi was chowing down on his third helping of flesh (Eaten Alive was his second effort).  You can sense his post-meal stupor throughout the film.  In an interview on Grindhouse’s release, Lenzi states that he never wanted to be the king of the cannibal genre.  In fact, he correctly hands that crown to his friend, Ruggero Deodato.

Ever the journeyman, Lenzi would deliver just what the distributors wanted, even if his heart wasn’t in it.  So, if Deodato’s Cannibal Holocaust raised the bar on disturbing imagery, Lenzi would projectile vomit over it.

As noted by everyone, Cannibal Ferox’s story is a pale reflection of Cannibal Holocaust.  The basic set-up remains the same – white people with an interest in anthropology go searching for primitive tribes in the Amazon, treat them poorly, and rue the day. 

Yet, Lenzi strips away all of the earlier film’s complexities: The found footage idea is ditched, the fractured time structure is smoothed back out, and the search & rescue framing device becomes a half-baked police procedural.

Most crucially, all of the troubling ethical sins are scrubbed from the anthropologists and handed to a lone outsider character, a drug addicted lowlife on the run from the NYC mob.

As Mike, Giovanni Radice (billed as John Morghen) bursts out of the jungle and onto the screen in full-on, batshit crazy mode.  Within seconds he’s calling Gloria (Lorraine de Selle), our doctoral student/heroine, “a twat.”  Minutes later, he’s knifing a piglet and snorting coke.  In a ridiculous plot development, Gloria’s friend, an out-of-place party-girl named Pat (Zora Kerova), finds all of this an irresistible turn-on.

Meanwhile in New York…

I kid you not!   The film also features a running subplot about Myrna (Fiamma Maglione), a woman that Mike left behind in New York, who is also under the spell of this psycho.  Questioned by the cops and threatened by the mob, Myrna refuses to believe that Mike is the bad guy that everyone says. 

In another absurd story reach, Myrna eventually heads down to South America to search for him, herself.  Because, you know… Love.

Finally, we come to the reason why this film is so famous.  After an hour of Gloria & Co. stumbling around in the jungle while Mike sadistically tortures every living thing that crosses his path, the floodgates open.  Much like the 3rd act of a rape/revenge flick, the put-upon natives rise up and exact justice…in the most graphic ways imaginable.

If you’re looking for gore, Cannibal Ferox is your huckleberry.  Castration, decapitation, amputation, disembowelment, eye-gouging and, of course, the infamous breast-piercing. 

Yep.  It’s here.  It’s gross.  Hooray?

If you’re looking for something more to chew on, you’re out of luck.  Well, there is one nice moment, where the girls comfort each other, while in a literal black pit of despair, by singing “Red River Valley”.  Of course, it’s absurd – does Lenzi believe that Americans still sing this folk song from the 1800s?  Yet, it’s also a rare tender moment in an otherwise brutal film.

So, yeah...

Unless you’ve been waiting 20 years to see this film, don’t see the film. 

But, pick up the Grindhouse Releasing Blu-ray, anyway!  I’m serious.  I don’t like the film, and I still jumped at the chance to upgrade.

The 3-disc set is so cram-packed with interviews, documentaries and just plain LOVE for all things grindhouse-y, that you can skip the movie and still feel like you walked those mean streets of Times Square, back in the day.   Just like me… 

And the Original Cocaine Smitty, Jr.

Come to think of it, this movie would have been a whole lot better if Radice’s character had half the charm of the Original Cocaine Smitty, Jr.

I mean, why drag your white asses all the way down to the Amazon, if you don’t want some blow?

Footnotes:

1. The screengrabs on this page are from the DVD, not the Blu-ray!, from Grindhouse Releasing, because, yes, my computer is that old.  Besides, the photos are heavily compressed and do not represent the actual PQ, anyway.  The DVD now appears to be out of print, but you can buy the Blu-ray here.

2. I never did see Emanuelle and the Last Cannibals, the more accurate title of Trap Them and Kill Them.  I lost interest once I read that it was directed by Joe D'Amato.

3. The name of the Original Cocaine Smitty, Jr. was not changed to protect the innocent.  If anyone else ever met him, please post about it below!  I am sorely disappointed that Google has never heard of him.  Hopefully, this post now changes that.