Tales that Witness Madness (1973): or, Try the Veal

October Horror Movie Challenge, Day 5!

 
In a high-security, hi-tech asylum in the British countryside, Professor R. C. Tremayne (Donald "Fucking" Pleasence) is doing psychological research on a ragtag group of inmates, each of whom is a "special case." Imaginative little moppet Paul (Russell Lewis) arrived after his neglectful and constantly scream-fighting parents got a first-hand introduction to his imaginary friend "Mr. Tiger." Fire-scarred junk dealer Timothy (Peter McEnery "the-Eigth-I-Am") went koo-koo upon receipt of "The Penny-Farthing," a time-traveling antique bicycle somehow linked to the constantly-changing picture of sinister Uncle Albert. (We're so sorry.) In another room, Brian (Michael Jayston) reflects on the demise of his hot, bitchy wife Bella (a never hotter nor bitchier Joan Collins), apparently at the hands...er, branches...of a jealous hunk of wood he cals "Mel." And the final patient, Auriol (screen legend Kim Novak) is still overcoming indigestion thanks to a cannibalistic "Luau" that may or may not (but almost definitely DID) include her daughter Ginny (Mary Tamm) as a main course. Dr. Tremayne claims he has "absolute proof" in these cases--but of what? And to what purpose?

Tales that Witness Madness is an old school British anthology film of the kind I absolutely ate up as a kid on Saturday afternoon TV matinees.  Director Freddie Francis is no stranger to the format (having helmed the classic Amicus anthology Tales from the Crypt just a couple years earlier), nor to the horror genre generally, as one of Britain's more prolific terror tale directors of the era (The Evil of Frankenstein, Dracula Has Risen from the Grave ,  The Creeping Flesh, and many more). Here he's got a star-studded cast who all seem game enough, but sadly the quality of the stories is not up to the same creepy level of Crypt. The stories are serviceable enough in a second-tier Twilight Zone-y kinda way, with my favorite being the opener "Mr. Tiger." The little boy's creepy Schroeder-esque piano playing, the riotously over-the-top performance by blustery Welshman Donald Houston as the boy's dad, and some nicely filmed blood-spatter imagery near the end make it a stand-out. (Another creeptastic image is the "paper faced" Uncle Albert in the time-travel segments of "Penny-Farthing." Also, the strangely sensuous half-woman/half-tree thing in "Mel" is more than a little pleasingly perverse.) Still, the lack of explanation for any of the goings on--which wouldn't have bothered me at all as a kid, it bears noting--left adult me wanting more.

Not the best example of the British horror anthology, but not terrible either. If you're looking for something a little fun that doesn't require too much mental engagement, this one could fit the bill. 1.5 thumbs.

"Show me your pecker, big boy!"

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INSIDIOUS (2010): or, Should Have Gone Further

October Horror Movie Challenge, Day 4!

Musician and exhausted mother of three Renai Lambert (Rose Byrne) and her well-meaning but more than a little thick schoolteacher husband Josh (Patrick Wilson) have just moved into a palatial, deeply shadowed old house, when their energetic oldest child Dalton (Ty Simpkins) suffers a knock on the head while exploring the requisite creepy attic. The next morning the boy has fallen into a coma, and the family begins to suffer under a plague of what paranormal experts like to call "freaky shit." Creepy voices from the nursery are overheard on the baby monitor, strange faces appear in second-floor windows, and middle son Foster (Andrew Astor) reports seeing his brother walking around at night, even when Dalton is clearly still strapped in his sick bed. Fleeing the haunting, they move into suburban crackerbox that is much more believably affordable on a high school teacher's salary, only to find that the malevolent entities have followed them. Turns out it's not their house that is haunted, but their son--his soul has come detached from his body via innocent astral projection gone too far, and the demons of the netherworld called "The Further" want to commandeer his body to wreak havoc on the living. Can Josh use his own astral projecting skills to retrieve his son and keep the demons at bay?

Spoiler: yup.

Directed by James Wan and written by Leigh Whannell (the horror loving duo who struck gold in 2004 with the first installment of the loved-by-some and reviled-by-others Saw series), Insidious has a few good ideas and manages a couple of extremely effective scare scenes. The movie's at its best early on, establishing Renai's exhaustion and Josh's obliviousness, then turning up the tension with the tried-and-true "child in danger" shtick. Once Josh follows his son into the Further, the ghosts and demons that inhabit the place are wonderfully creepy in a "porcelain dolls gone wrong" way; the Sith Lord-styled, Tiny Tim-loving Lipstick Face Demon is also a disturbing creation. The astral projection angle is an interesting one too, and I got a kick out of psychic Elise Ranier (Lin Shaye) and her team of nerdy paranormal techs. (The medium's method of channeling the dead while wearing a fetish-style gas mask was also a pleasingly WTF touch.)

However, much of the movie seemed to me a slightly higher-rent version of Wan's summarily awful 2007 flick Dead Silence. As in that earlier flick, Wan doesn't seem to trust his nightmare imagery to be quite scary enough, and so relies heavily on screeching strings and other loud noises to put the exclamation point on every jump scare. The director even seems to transplant the "creepy old ventriloquist lady" character from that movie into this one, here making her a netherworld demon.

The problems continue with Whannell's script, which includes such absurdities as Renai listening to a grunting, growling male voice on her baby monitor for a full three minutes (BEFORE rushing upstairs to, you know, CHECK ON THE BABY), and Josh dashing downstairs to find the front door wide open and the burglar alarm going off, then nonchalantly shutting the door, turning on the alarm, and, you know, NOT CALLING THE POLICE. 

TWICE.

Byrne and Wilson are both usually fairly decent actors, but here they both seem to be phoning it in from a great distance. And scream flick legend Barbara Hershey is similarly detached in her small role as Josh's mother. When the most engaging actors in the flick are our comic relief ghostbusters (writer Leigh Whannell as "Specs" and Angus Sampson as "Tucker"), somebody at the top of the marquee isn't pulling his or her weight.

I didn't think Insidious was really a bad movie--I can see where many viewers (especially those whippersnapping young'uns) might be thrilled and disturbed by the spookhouse scares and loud noises--but I guess it just left me a little tired and unfulfilled. It looks good though, and did manage to raise the goosebumps a couple of times, so I give it a 1.5 thumb rating.

"See you later, babe. Darth Maul and I are going to try to get in a quick 9."

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TROLLHUNTER (2010): or, Don't Feed the Trolls

October Horror Movie Challenge, Day 3!

 
A group of conservation-minded college students, on the trail of a man they think is poaching the fiercely regulated and protected bear population of their native Norway, think they have found the perfect subject for their Dokumentar 101 final project. But as they follow the rough, enigmatic hunter on his mysterious nightly raids, they find themselves at the center of a whole different wildlife conservation battle, focused on a much rarer and more dangerous native predator: the Troll.

Just when you think endless knockoffs and repetitions have completely sapped the found footage subgenre of its vitality and creativity, along comes a group of plucky Norwegians to show us there's life in the old bird yet. Combining a believable documentary style with a clear passion for the fairy tales and folklore of his native land, writer/director André Øvredal creates an exciting, funny, and truly inventive take on the old Giant Monsters Amok tropes. Throw in government cover-ups, eccentric bear hunters, and a gruff monster-fighting badass of the Ash/Reggie the Ice Cream Man stamp (Otto Jespersen, whom I could almost believe really is an honest-to-Odin Trolljegeren), and you've got a good time for everybody.

The rest of the cast is good too, but the real stars of the show are of course the trolls. Here the "documentary" style really helps a lot, as Øvredal is able to use shadows, dusky light, and night-vision effects to help sell the idea of a twenty-foot tall, three-headed beast rampaging through the forest. The movie is edited extremely well, with exciting chases and entertaining bits of dialogue explaining the folklore for the uninitiated. (For instance, it's important to the Troll Hunter to ensure that none of the documentary crew are Christians, since trolls can "smell the blood of a Christian man.") Several troll species are represented, and my favorite scene involves a witty take on one of the most treasured Grimm Fairy tales from my childhood. Most importantly, by the time the two-hundred foot Final Boss showedup, I found my imagination so engaged that I didn't even think about the CG. Which seldom happens, and is a big complement.

2.75 thumbs. Recommended!

"Do you mind? I'm tryin' to dump some gravel here!"

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Murders in the Rue Morgue (1971): or, Phantom of the Monkey Suit

October Horror Movie Challenge, Day 2!

Jason Robards, of all people, stars in this AIP version of a gothicky thriller, EXTREMELY loosely based on the famous detective story by Edgar Allen Poe--by which I mean, even less tightly than the 1932 version with Bela Lugosi. Which is to say, not really based on it at all. 

Robards plays Cesar, the manager of a Grand Guignol-esque troupe who are performing their smash hit, The Murders in the Rue Morgue, at a theatre actually located in the Rue Morgue in Paris. All is going swimmingly until one night, the actor playing the ape Erik is brutally murdered, and his killer takes his place in that night's performance, which no one realizes on account of the monkey suit. It's only later they realize how meta things have become, as they have a murder at the Murders in the Rue Morgue,  IN THE RUE MORGUE. You see what they did there?

Things are twistier here than our old pal Eddie ever imagined, though, as what follows is less a faithful retelling of his pioneering tale of ratiocination than a mash-up of the Rue Morgue, "The Premature Burial", and The Phantom of the Opera, with a little Bloody Pit of Horror thrown in for good measure. A-List baddie Herbert Lom (later famously of Peter Sellers' Pink Panther series) here reprises his Phantom role from 1961 (with almost exactly the same makeup), playing former theatrical star Rene Marot, disfigured in a freak accident on stage and later a presumed suicide. Of course he hasn't stayed dead, and along with his dapper dwarf assistant Pierre (Michael Dunn), he sets out to wreak vengeance on those who wronged him, and to win the heart of Madeline (Christine Kaufmann), the daughter of his former lover (Lilli Palmer), which is of course not creepy at all.

Dark secrets, gothic settings, and batshit plot twists make this one a real barn burner. If you love the old "man in an ape suit" trope (and if you don't, let's face it, YOU'RE DEAD INSIDE), there's plenty to love here, including ape-man bending the bars of his cage, ape-man holding up decapitated head, and even ape-man swinging Errol Flynn-style from a chandelier! In addition, we get multiple acid-disfigurations (including a particularly nasty one with Eurobabe Maria Perschy, who would later co-star with the Mighty Mighty Molina in The Hunchback of the Morgue, Exorcismo, and Blue Eyes of the Broken Doll), some stylishly filmed, borderline surreal dream sequences, and even some Shakespeare allusions via Punch and Judy shows, administrated by the aforementioned dapper dwarf. Really, it's an embarrassment of riches.

The movie might strike some as a bit slight, but I admired its energy and complete dedication to throwing everything it could at the lens to see what would stick. Robards is a bit miscast, but the rest of the troupe do well, with Kaufmann almost Adjani-esque in her "am I crazy or what?" innocent role, and Lom excellent as always in the villain slot. With more than a couple of inventive twists near the end, this one stays entertaining until the final Dummy Death curtain call. Lush production values and period costumes round out the package, earning this one a 2.5 thumb rating. Fun stuff!

"WHO'S YER MESSIAH NOW?!"

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Dark Night of the Scarecrow (1981): or, That's the Last Straw

October Horror Movie Challenge, Day 1!

A thirty-six year old, mentally challenged behemoth of a man named Bubba (Larry Drake, typecast again) draws the ire of his small, rural town's postmaster Otis P. Hazelrigg (the legendary Charles Durning) for being a bit too friendly with sweet little Marylee (Tonya Crowe). When the girl is attacked by a vicious dog and Bubba comes to her rescue, the sight of the gigantic toddler with the bloodied body of the innocent in his arms drives the letter carrier into a frenzy--he quickly recruits alcoholic farmer Harless Hooker (Lane Smith), grease-monkey and Cooter Davenport impersonator Skeeter Norris (Robert F. Lyons), and morbidly obese hypertension-sufferer Philby (Claude "No Relation to James" Earl Jones) to form the world's sweatiest posse and wreak retarded vengeance before the cops can come in and muck things up. Bubba displays a little creativity by concealing himself from the lynch mob in a well-crafted scarecrow costume, but the men aren't fooled and execute the poor slob just before learning that the girl is okay and the dog has been rightly convicted. Incredibly the men get off scot-free on the charge of galoot-icide, but soon an ominous wind blows in from the cornfield at night, bringing with in supernatural vengeance and barley-scented DEATH.

Rightly hailed as one of the best made-for-TV horror movies of the Big Network Era, Dark Night of the Scarecrow is a beautifully shot, expertly paced thriller many genuinely creepy scenes and even some surprisingly effective emotional moments. Director Frank De Felitta does a great job with J.D. Feigelson's story, displaying a deft hand for suspense and never letting the proceedings drag. He's aided by an absolutely stellar cast--character actors Jones and Lyons are fantastic as the basically decent but tragically misguided stooges of Hazelrigg, and Lane Smith hits all the right notes as the slimiest of crew. (Lyons in particular impresses by seeming to channel character-acting god Elisha Cook Jr. to great effect, especially in one of the great "losing his shit" scenes in TV movie history.) Most importantly, we get Charles Durning at his Durning-est, playing the postmaster as an angry little man with delusions of grandeur (note the prominent Patton photos in his sad boardinghouse bedroom), taking out his frustrations on hapless ogre Drake. There's really not a bad performance in the movie--A-level stuff, all the way across the board.

There's more than a touch of MADNESS to savor here too, as we get strict observance of the Chekhov rule ("If you show a wood-chipper in act one..."), amber waves of PAIN, impromptu exhumation, a gas stove explosion powerful enough to split the atom, and even an obvious but wonderfully done homage to the "flowers" scene from James Whale's Frankenstein (1931). And the post-comeuppance coda has a nice little ghostly chill in it as well, wrapping everything up with a satisfying shiver.

A great way to start my October Horror Movie challenge, Dark Night of the Scarecrow gets a solid 2.5 thumbs up. Made-for-TV fans and horror lovers in general should seek it out for their Halloween viewing posthaste!

"If I only had a brain. Yours, I mean. On the end of a pitchfork."

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Track of the Moon Beast (1976), Or Stalk Like A Dinosaur

Special Guest Post by Jose Cruz of Mephisto's Castle!

Fellow MMMMad movie lovers and maniacs in general, it is with great pleasure and honor that I, El Jose, write this rabid review for you today. Being a devout member of the Church of Cheesy Cinema, I was eager in sending a message inked in the perspiration of 100 Italian prostitutes to see if the honorable Vicar and Duke would lend me an ear… and any other necessary organs that I might need. And when the message returned (though the pony it was sent with had mysteriously disappeared upon arriving at the gilded gates of the Vicarage) with a gracious consent, I leaped forth from my filthy grotto, chittering like an Appalachian love slave in heated excitement.

“So what,” you impatiently ask in between savory chomps of your roasted dragon thigh, “did you decide to offer us for today, you sniveling knave?”

Why, none other than one of the many hidden treasures on the glorious 50 Chilling Classics Set put out by the fine folks at Mill Creek. And having a deep and affectionate love for lycanthropes, I was immediately drawn to the freaky-sounding flick Track of the Moon Beast. But, dear reader, I was quick to find out that we weren’t dealing with the usual furry-faced fiends that serve as the wolfish, flesh-chomping mascots of Daninsky U, but a poor soul who instead turns into a leathery lizard-creature upon the night of the full moon in order to get his cold-blooded groove on.

Intrigued? So was I! So take the perfumed, gloved hand I offer to you now and journey with me into the slithery shenanigans of this kooky drive-in monsterama… 

Our film opens up with a dumpy-looking fellow fiddling around in an observatory which is quickly followed up with a news report concerning a flaming meteorite that is on a crash course with Earth’s moon. Nothing to worry about, we are assured. After all, the meteorite appears to be a crumpled-up page from the script that some foolhardy crew hand set on fire and is twirling around on a string in the grand tradition of Ed Wood. As the blazing spitball meteorite comes ever closer, a group of elder Native Americans are getting’ jiggy with it in the middle of the New Mexican desert, waving large baby rattles as an imminent warning of the meteor’s approach.

 It's coming right fer us!

The next day, good-looking-in-a-70s-sense Paul Carlson (Chase Cordell) speeds into the arid desert on his motorbike and dismounts in order to do some archaeological digging. Making sure to take his shirt off in order to show off his impressive pecs and expose himself to the sun’s merciless rays, Paul gets a great find in the form of a bone approximately two inches under the sand, only to be spooked by a bloodcurdling scream that echoes off the mountains. Looking around, he spies a giant metal mask peering down at him that apparently grew its own pair of legs and mounted itself on a ledge.

Turns out it’s the work of college couple Budd and Janet (dammit!) and Paul’s good friend Professor Johnny Longbow (the charismatic Gregorio Sala) who decided to play a prank on the muscley anthropologist. Paul also meets leggy photojournalist Kathy Nolan (Leigh Drake) who makes her attraction to Paul IMMEDIATELY known. Like, before they’re introduced.

 The spirit of Chief Walla-Walla-Bing-Bang presides over all.

Paul is eager to reciprocate the obvious flirtation, telling the shutterbug he knows of some great photo spots but that they’re a little off the beaten track. So without taking the time to consider the possibility that Paul is a sweet-faced homicidal maniac that wants to knit a sweater from her succulent ass cheeks, Kathy happily hops onto his moped and drives off to possible death in the name of an easy lay.

While having lunch, Janet is frightened by a scampering lizard, which prompts Johnny to go full-on Native American and illustrate the episode using an ancient folktale involving the Coyote and the Lizard and their argument on what form Man should take.* That night Paul and Kathy stand atop a windy hill in which Kathy has surprisingly not been buried in, the blonde vixen rubbing the chiseled stud’s hairy chest while he waxes romantic. And right in the middle of his poetic soliloquy, the dazzling meteorite shower descends from the heavens and knocks the lovers to the ground with its blinding intensity.

*Mankind retains Lizard's five-fingered hands but get to keep Coyote's mortality. Fair trade, right?

Paul gets a scratch on his head, and Kathy tends to the wound with a handkerchief while the lummox picks up a fragment of the miraculously cool “moon rock” for a keepsake. Kathy aloofly tosses the hankie aside (she don’t give a fuck for no Crying Indian) and takes Paul’s suggestion to go to his house for medicinal needs as an invitation to jump his bones. Heading off, they miss the lizard that has crawled on to the now ominously-glowing hankie as a sign of terrible things to come…

 "Well if you must know, that telescope there should give you a good estimation..."

At Paul’s home, the hunk lets it slip during the pre-sexcapades that he lives with his mom (it’s okay—she’s away on vacation) and his bedroom comes fully equipped with adorable childhood photographs, a telescope, and a freakin’ Komodo dragon in a cage named Ty! You would think the implication that she may be horribly raped and have her remains fed to the vicious reptile would be scaring her, but Kathy admits to Paul—whom she has only met that very same day—that “It’s us I’m really frightened about.” Seeing a way to approach their growing relationship in an adult manner, they make out.

Ty watching all the while.

 Giggity!

The next afternoon finds Paul in the university museum checking out moon rock samples similar to his souvenir from the previous night and Kathy attempting to take snapshots of his rock-hard ass. But the camera’s flash sets off a cartoon sound effect in Paul’s head that leaves him dizzier than an iguana dipped in tequila. Later Paul, Kathy, and Johnny go to a local show for some entertainment put on by the pastiest guy in New Mexico and his band of fellow hippies.

 "This IS my farmer's tan!"

Feeling a little woozy, Paul is taken from the AMAZINGLY PACKED HOUSE back to his place to west his wittle head. After being tucked in by Kathy and awaking from a fitful slumber, Paul paces across his room, illuminated by the full moon’s beams. Clutching the moon rock to his chest, Paul looks wearily up at the caged Ty and then…

We cut to a random drunk old man trying to get into his house and showing us the seat of his wrinkled, probably-filled-with-unchanged-diapers pants for a good 10 seconds. Old Guy’s overweight, chain-smoking wife ain’t having none of his inebriated hijinks and sees fit to keep him locked outside. The poor drunk finds out that a little hair of the dog gains him a tooth from the lizard when some shambling, unseen creature stalks up on him and goes in for a nibble. Alarmed by a scream and the puddle of blood that is now oozing under her front door, Roseanne suffers a heart attack when she sees her hubby’s corpse set up on the stoop James Cagney-style.

 "I regret nothing!"

The following afternoon Police Captain McCabe (Patrick Wright) calls in Johnny to have him weigh in his opinion on the deaths. Seeing the shredded remains of the victim, Johnny guesses it’s the work of a mountain lion, but the Scooby Doo-esque handprint that the beast left behind after it tripped over the garden hose confirms that we’re in Roger Corman territory now. Kathy wakes Paul up back at the house, and the two are startled to discover that Ty has seemingly escaped from his cage! At the university, Johnny says it’s possible that a footprint found at the crime scene could have been made by a Komodo dragon. But the print had to have been made by an upright creature, and McCabe speculates that they could be dealing with a T-rex.

Yeah. That second one is more plausible.

 Out of options, the gang decided to consult with the reanimated remains of Abraham Lincoln.

To get their mind off things, Paul, Kathy, and Johnny head out into the desert and see two children participating in a game of archery. Paul and Johnny decide to play William Tell with ears of corn standing in for apples, but Paul has another one of his spells. Given a glass of warm milk and a kiss from Mommy Kathy, Paul awakens yet again during the night by the moon’s haunting light.

We then cut to a group of three campers in the woods, playing cards and jovially chatting as a fire crackles. But the revelry is disturbed when the Moon Beast rudely interrupts their game of Old Maid, their asses severely chewed out and WHOLE ARMS RIPPED FROM SOCKETS in a hideous display of scaly slaughter. This was a wonderfully executed (heh), high-energy scene, and couldn’t help but remind me of the bum massacre from An American Werewolf in London. And we didn’t even get full-on dismemberment in THAT movie.

Paul wakes up from Nappy Time the next morning and, after being chided by Kathy for being a baby (yuh think?), he’s taken to the hospital to get his head examined. The X-rays come up showing something abnormal in Paul’s skull (barring severe independence, that is) and plans are made to operate. It seems that the buckaroo didn’t walk away from that meteorite shower as unscathed as he first thought, as a small piece from the moon rock has lodged itself into his brain meats. Just WHY exactly that forces Paul to metamorphose into a six-foot-tall gecko when the bad moon comes arising is left completely unexplained, but if we were cinematic prudes we wouldn’t be here in the first place, would we?

 "Ma always said there were rocks in my head, BUT THIS IS RIDICULOUS!"

Meanwhile the murder investigation continues as Johnny presents McCabe with a slideshow detailing a Native American legend about a tribesman who was struck by a beam of light and thus turned into a “demon-lizard-monster.” That’s right, folks. This isn’t some prissy, tampon-wearing lizard-monster. This is a DEMON-lizard-monster, so you know this is some heavy dinosaur shit we’re dealing with here.

At any rate, this demon-lizard-wrestler-thunder god-monster caused much havoc before it spontaneously combusted for no other reason than it simply couldn’t handle its own awesomeness. Sensing that Paul has taken the monster mantle, Longbow persuades McCabe to go along with locking Paul into his hospital room that night to see what happens. Ridiculous hunches prevail though, as all those in attendance watch as Paul’s tan features become exceedingly dryer and more rubbery.

The expert doctors are called in and they are quick to diagnose that the moon rock particles in Paul’s body are spreading in his system at such a rate that they will eventually cause him to burst open faster than a piñata at a diabetic birthday party. Paul’s not a sit-down-and-explode kind of guy (at least not in this sense), and he’s intent on doing… something… before he can make like a geisha and blow. There’s the requisite dramatic scene between the two lovers, Kathy weeping "Oh, Paul. Why did this have to happen to you?" and Paul cleverly answering “It did happen. That’s all I know” in between squirmy, grinding kisses of awkwardness. Just before leaving, Paul finally resolves: “I wanna die looking like a man, not a monster…”

 "... just not in this fucking gown."

Disguised as a doctor, Paul snatches a motorbike from the parking lot and purchases a gun from Colonel Sanders at a local ammunition shop, planning to kill himself atop the windy hill he loves so much. Kathy heads there after him, Longbow and the police quick on her tail. Finding Paul, she tries to talk him out of his suicide mission before he blows to smithereens and/or is gunned down by the coppers. Things are looking bad, especially with the sun going down in a matter of SECONDS and Paul beginning to walk a little too much like a dinosaur.

 "Is there something on my face?"

Kat screams bloody murder, which somehow convinces the Moon Beast NOT to eat her, and a couple of cops try taking shots at the beast before he washes his claws in their sweet, bacony blood. Johnny is here to save the day, as he’s devised to sharpen a piece of the moon rock into an arrowhead and wreak sweet Tonto action onto Paul’s leathery hindquarters. Kathy tries driving off but is cornered by the beastie. Johnny is quick on the feet and faster on the draw though as he sends the lunar arrow straight into the creature’s beating heart! The particle reaction sped up in its body, the Moon Beast disintegrates into ashes in a flurry of psychedelic lights. Completely spent and craving some good burritos, our heroes walk off down the dark road.

Parishioners, it would be haughty of me indeed to claim that Track of the Moon Beast is a monumental achievement of genre cinema and that you all must make haste in sacrificing baby newts at its epic altar of grandness (as cool as that might be). What the movie IS, though, is a fun little drive-in feature that is kind enough to throw some rubber-suited monster action our way and a pint of sticky blood to wash it down. And that, friends and loved ones, is something to stand up and cheer for.

 Dancin' In The Street

Performances overall are adequate, but the script never demands too much on the actor’s part. Chase Cordell as the Lawrence Talbot-stand in though is sadly devoid of any real tragic qualities about him, despite the major suckage of his situation. Cordell’s performance never really pulls you in and has you rooting for his doomed protagonist, which is the ultimate goal of any lycanthrope worth their silver.

He still isn’t horrible, though, and Cordell is at least able to pull off his shirt some worthwhile dramatic moments. Sala as Johnny Longbow is the picture of charm and suavity as the world-wise American Indian, and his presence just screams bad ass at times. The rest of the cast fill in their telegraphed roles with the aplomb of dedicated TV actors, so there’s that too.

The film seems like it could have easily been an episode from Kolchak: The Night Stalker as it has all the foamy creatures and MAD monster mythology that made that series so great. And while there are undoubtedly allusions to many a werewolf feature, this movie has a surprising reference to the Val Lewton chiller The Leopard Man (1943).

Not only does that movie also take place in the New Mexican desert, but it deals with an escaped animal (in that case the titular feline) that the countryside believes to be the culprit behind a series of recent murders, mirroring Ty the Dragon’s break-out from this flick. However, writers Charles Sinclair and Bill Finger (the very same one who developed the original conception of Batman with Bob Kane!) do absolutely nothing with that plotline. Perhaps they wanted to leave room open for the summer blockbuster sequel, Commando Komodo?

On the whole, I can give Track of the Moon Beast a solid 2 thumbs. Fans of popcorn creature features will surely get a kick out of this one, and it comes equipped with a few MAD moments to keep the smiles coming. Definitely apply some lotion after watching it though.

And take that last statement how you will.

More images from Track of the Moon Beast (1976): 

Mind the Rattlers

Amaize-ing Precision

Even A Man Who Is Hard In Pec

"Daddy's home."

"Cool ghost stories. But could we turn the lights on now please?"

Fried Chicken and Firearms: A Colonel's Story

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

 "I'm the gawd-damn INDIAN, man!"

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News and Notes from the Vicarage

Greetings, friends and former lovers! As I'm sure you've noticed, things continue to move slowly around the Vicarage and Duchy these days, for which I can only say I'm very sorry. It's not for lack of desire, I can tell you--but this cloud of malaise is proving difficult to disperse, the Joybaloo increasingly elusive.

BUT--if you can judge a Vicar by the quality of his friends, then I'm a rich clergyman indeed. In a couple days' time in this very spot, tune in for a guest post by Parishioner Par Excellance Jose Cruz, who is taking time out from his stellar work at Mephisto's Castle to contribute a review to Mad Mad Mad Mad Movies.

Another good friend of the site, the brilliant and devious Dr. Vulnavia Morbius of the consistently excellent Krell Labs, is doing her best to smack the Vicar out of his laziness by throwing down the leather gauntlet of the 7th Annual October Horror Movie Challenge--participants agree to watch and write about 31 movies in the 31 days of October, more than half of which have to be new to the watcher. It's a hefty challenge, and a big commitment, but what the hell--I'm in! More info can be found at the Challenge's Facebook page, where you can also sign up yourself. Thirty-one straight days of Madness with the Vicar...GET READY!

I also have a couple of brief DVD reviews I hope to get done by the end of the week. And that should be enough for you, ya heathens! Now go! I have to meditate to prepare myself for my latest ascent from the grave.

Bunnies,
VoV

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