- Published on
As I’ve said before, I’m quite smitten with the world of film noir.
Honestly, I love it for a whole lot of reasons but only one in particular that I often share with readers here: I see film noir as a black-and-white existence most often populated with broken people making broken choices, and I like to call these characters ‘monsters of a sort.’ That’s why I’ll occasionally cover noirs in this space – along with Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror features – when I get the inkling or opportunity, and that happens a lot when I can squeeze in the screenings.
Today’s exhibit: 1955’s The Desperate Hours was directed by William Wyler from a story crafted by Joseph Hayes and Jay Dratler. The home invasion thriller starred Humphrey Bogart, Fredric March, Arthur Kennedy, Martha Scott, and Dewey Martin in big roles. Based loosely on true events, the story dealt with what happened when a trio of escaped criminals descend upon a somewhat average American household, take the family hostage, and push all involved to their emotional limit. The Turner Classic Movies website states that although the film was largely received favorably by critics, it was no barnburner at the box office.
I have read that the script – adapted first from a novel and then a stage play – was rewritten specifically to make the lead villain Glenn Griffin older so that a marquee star like Bogart could fill the dastardly man’s shoes. Perhaps coming near the end of the actor’s professional career didn’t serve the picture as well as producers had initially hoped, but I’d still argue this is one of his best screen performances. He’s particularly good in the flick’s second half, growing increasingly despondent over the loss of thuggish control of his fellow escapees and their captives alike. So far as this reviewer is concerned, the man’s participation is reason enough to see this one … and see it you should.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last three paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Three escaped convicts move in on and terrorize a suburban household.”
Frankly, the home invasion thriller isn’t exactly a contemporary phenomenon.
In fact, a quick search over at Google.com will show anyone interested that all the way back in 1909 revered Hollywood heavyweight D.W. Griffith crafted and released The Lonely Villa, a feature that kinda/sorta served to introduce this unique sub-genre of the Horror category. Granted, it may not have had significant traction with audiences until much later; and I think it’s safe to suggest that this type of flick came into its own in the 1950’s with topical entries like Count The Hours (1953), Dial M For Murder (1954), Suddenly (1954), and today’s nifty little classic The Desperate Hours (1955). Of this short list, I’ve seen three; and I’d argue that Hours is, arguably, the best creative stand-out. This is probably because I think the production really capitalizes on strong visuals – thanks to director William Wyler – and some modest character moments that elevate it into a class all its own.
Honestly, I love it for a whole lot of reasons but only one in particular that I often share with readers here: I see film noir as a black-and-white existence most often populated with broken people making broken choices, and I like to call these characters ‘monsters of a sort.’ That’s why I’ll occasionally cover noirs in this space – along with Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror features – when I get the inkling or opportunity, and that happens a lot when I can squeeze in the screenings.
Today’s exhibit: 1955’s The Desperate Hours was directed by William Wyler from a story crafted by Joseph Hayes and Jay Dratler. The home invasion thriller starred Humphrey Bogart, Fredric March, Arthur Kennedy, Martha Scott, and Dewey Martin in big roles. Based loosely on true events, the story dealt with what happened when a trio of escaped criminals descend upon a somewhat average American household, take the family hostage, and push all involved to their emotional limit. The Turner Classic Movies website states that although the film was largely received favorably by critics, it was no barnburner at the box office.
I have read that the script – adapted first from a novel and then a stage play – was rewritten specifically to make the lead villain Glenn Griffin older so that a marquee star like Bogart could fill the dastardly man’s shoes. Perhaps coming near the end of the actor’s professional career didn’t serve the picture as well as producers had initially hoped, but I’d still argue this is one of his best screen performances. He’s particularly good in the flick’s second half, growing increasingly despondent over the loss of thuggish control of his fellow escapees and their captives alike. So far as this reviewer is concerned, the man’s participation is reason enough to see this one … and see it you should.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last three paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Three escaped convicts move in on and terrorize a suburban household.”
Frankly, the home invasion thriller isn’t exactly a contemporary phenomenon.
In fact, a quick search over at Google.com will show anyone interested that all the way back in 1909 revered Hollywood heavyweight D.W. Griffith crafted and released The Lonely Villa, a feature that kinda/sorta served to introduce this unique sub-genre of the Horror category. Granted, it may not have had significant traction with audiences until much later; and I think it’s safe to suggest that this type of flick came into its own in the 1950’s with topical entries like Count The Hours (1953), Dial M For Murder (1954), Suddenly (1954), and today’s nifty little classic The Desperate Hours (1955). Of this short list, I’ve seen three; and I’d argue that Hours is, arguably, the best creative stand-out. This is probably because I think the production really capitalizes on strong visuals – thanks to director William Wyler – and some modest character moments that elevate it into a class all its own.
Humphrey Bogart rather admirably returns to the world of the screen heavy. His character of Glenn Griffin isn’t all that much different from some of the gangsters he was playing at the dawn of his screen career, but given the man’s advanced age – and earned talent – the actor was far more capable of created menace with greater nuance, thus giving the script the dimension it needed with some of its quieter moments. Furthermore, it was an older and wiser Bogart who was able to convey Griffin’s growing paranoia over his increasing loss of control of the situation, circumstances, and even those around him. Because it did come very late in his career, I’d also argue it probably didn’t garner the attention it deserved at the time; still, it’s a great – in a small way – even if it shows that the trajectory of his acting had done little more than come full circle.
Already established as a director with a reputation for staging excellent visuals, Wyler added a bit of something extra to Hours that probably goes by unnoticed by casual viewers: on the front lawn before the Hilliard home, young Ralphy’s abandoned bicycle lay in a bit of a heap near a tree. Symbolically, the bike could stand for any number of things – a means of transportation, a representation of childhood, etc. – and I think it’s safe to conclude that Wyler wanted it as such. As the film opens, we learn that, indeed, Ralphy is tired to being considered a child, so much so that he prefers to go by simply ‘Ralph’ as a means of demonstrating some maturity. It’s conceivable natural that the unattended bike was also something the child was leaving behind, making the object signify a transition between the old and the new in perhaps the same way all of the lives of the Hilliard family will be affected by what’s about to transpire onscreen.
Just as his youngest is evolving at his own pace, the elder Daniel Hilliard will come to grips with forced change late in the picture. In the final reel, he’s forced into the ultimate confrontation between himself and Griffin as both men are squared off opposite the other, guns in hand. Once Griffin falls to Hilliard’s trick and finds himself defenseless, the hardened criminal remarks that the elder finally “has it in him” to stand up for himself and his family. Hilliard necessarily argues that – if he finally has found the courage to take up arms in their defense – it’s because the actions of Griffin and his accomplices “had put it in him.”
Like son, like father … both men – young and old – are constantly not only evolving but also they’re recognizing the need to do so when and if their respective circumstances require it of them.
The Desperate Hours (1955) was produced by Paramount Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the good folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? Though I’m no trained video expert, I thought that the sights-and-sounds to this newly restored 6K restoration (from the original VistaVision negative) were exceptional from start-to-finish. Rarely do films this aged look this damn great, and that’s wonderful. As for the special features? I was only provided a physical copy of the disc, so I can’t speak to any of the advertised packaging materials (or their efficacy), but the disc boasts a new audio commentary from film historian Daniel Kremer (a bit boring, honestly); some nice featurettes about the production and its legacy; some archival interviews; and the theatrical trailer. It’s a pretty solid collection for those who like this sort of content.
Highest recommendation possible.
Honestly, The Desperate Hours has always been one of my private favorite thrillers, but I’ve just never stopped and given it the love it deserves. Hopefully I’ve done this – to a small degree – in this review as I think it’s one of the essential viewing experiences of both film noir and the quintessential home invasion sub-genre. It boasts a (mostly) tight script – albeit I’m no big fan of Robert Middleton’s moments in the guise of the crooked Sam Kobish as they cheapen the film with predictability – and a fabulous cast who play with the big and small moments with great deftness. And anyone considering himself or herself a fan of Bogart would be a fool not to relish one of the actor’s last appearances in the spotlight as he especially makes the film a sight to behold.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray screening copy of The Desperate Hours (1955) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Already established as a director with a reputation for staging excellent visuals, Wyler added a bit of something extra to Hours that probably goes by unnoticed by casual viewers: on the front lawn before the Hilliard home, young Ralphy’s abandoned bicycle lay in a bit of a heap near a tree. Symbolically, the bike could stand for any number of things – a means of transportation, a representation of childhood, etc. – and I think it’s safe to conclude that Wyler wanted it as such. As the film opens, we learn that, indeed, Ralphy is tired to being considered a child, so much so that he prefers to go by simply ‘Ralph’ as a means of demonstrating some maturity. It’s conceivable natural that the unattended bike was also something the child was leaving behind, making the object signify a transition between the old and the new in perhaps the same way all of the lives of the Hilliard family will be affected by what’s about to transpire onscreen.
Just as his youngest is evolving at his own pace, the elder Daniel Hilliard will come to grips with forced change late in the picture. In the final reel, he’s forced into the ultimate confrontation between himself and Griffin as both men are squared off opposite the other, guns in hand. Once Griffin falls to Hilliard’s trick and finds himself defenseless, the hardened criminal remarks that the elder finally “has it in him” to stand up for himself and his family. Hilliard necessarily argues that – if he finally has found the courage to take up arms in their defense – it’s because the actions of Griffin and his accomplices “had put it in him.”
Like son, like father … both men – young and old – are constantly not only evolving but also they’re recognizing the need to do so when and if their respective circumstances require it of them.
The Desperate Hours (1955) was produced by Paramount Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the good folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? Though I’m no trained video expert, I thought that the sights-and-sounds to this newly restored 6K restoration (from the original VistaVision negative) were exceptional from start-to-finish. Rarely do films this aged look this damn great, and that’s wonderful. As for the special features? I was only provided a physical copy of the disc, so I can’t speak to any of the advertised packaging materials (or their efficacy), but the disc boasts a new audio commentary from film historian Daniel Kremer (a bit boring, honestly); some nice featurettes about the production and its legacy; some archival interviews; and the theatrical trailer. It’s a pretty solid collection for those who like this sort of content.
Highest recommendation possible.
Honestly, The Desperate Hours has always been one of my private favorite thrillers, but I’ve just never stopped and given it the love it deserves. Hopefully I’ve done this – to a small degree – in this review as I think it’s one of the essential viewing experiences of both film noir and the quintessential home invasion sub-genre. It boasts a (mostly) tight script – albeit I’m no big fan of Robert Middleton’s moments in the guise of the crooked Sam Kobish as they cheapen the film with predictability – and a fabulous cast who play with the big and small moments with great deftness. And anyone considering himself or herself a fan of Bogart would be a fool not to relish one of the actor’s last appearances in the spotlight as he especially makes the film a sight to behold.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray screening copy of The Desperate Hours (1955) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
At a time when Universal Pictures were achieving the unthinkable, unimaginable success in creating some of film’s most enduring Horror creations, Paramount Pictures kinda/sorta slipped one in under the radar and – gasp – even made film history … but some might not ever know it.
1931’s Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde – directed by Rouben Mamoulian – certainly wasn’t the first adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case Of Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde (first published in 1886); and yet the motion picture does have a few ‘firsts deserving of mention and celebration, especially given that’s precisely what we do in this space on SciFiHistory.Net. According to IMDB.com, this Jekyll had the honor of being the first picture screened at the first first film festival ever: the Venice Film Festival came into being in 1932, and it continues hosting some of the screen’s best nearly a century later. Furthermore, at a time when Universal’s productions were thrilling and chilling American audiences, it was Jekyll’s Fredric March – in the guise of the medicinally-tormented physician turned madman – who won Horror’s very first Academy Award ever.
Those are two feathers in an incredible cap, indeed.
Alas, it wasn’t even a decade after the film’s release that it was nearly forgotten, and such an oversight was deliberate. As Fate would have it, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer secured the rights to produce their version of the Stevenson story; and – in the process – they went out of their way to have the 1931 incarnation suppressed. Wikipedia.org suggests that the studio went so far as to local and destroy what they believe to have been all prints of March’s star-turning performance; and the feature was believed for many years to have been lost. Thankfully, it survives to this day despite a rather nefarious campaign to see it unnecessarily removed from history.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Dr. Jekyll faces horrible consequences when he lets his dark side run wild with a potion that transforms him into the animalistic Mr. Hyde.”
As impressive as the 1931 incarnation of Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde is – and make no mistake as this one is very impressive for its day and endures quite well even today – it still includes some curious choices that I think lessen the experience.
In ways, it’s almost like director Rouben Mamoulian was experimenting at times with other ways to craft his narrative; and – as interesting as they might be – I thought the visual trickery occasionally got in the way of the story being told. There are a few sequences captured as if they’re intended to be first person – told directly from the point of view of Dr. Jekyll – and I found myself wondering why on more than once. For example, when he’s in the world of Mr. Hyde, such flourish makes more sense – the audience gets transported in such a way that they see the world through the eyes of a lunatic. But there just weren’t enough differences between the two perspectives – Jekyll vs. Hyde – to have the technique register as smartly as it probably could have, making it a bit of a misfire for me.
1931’s Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde – directed by Rouben Mamoulian – certainly wasn’t the first adaptation of Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case Of Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde (first published in 1886); and yet the motion picture does have a few ‘firsts deserving of mention and celebration, especially given that’s precisely what we do in this space on SciFiHistory.Net. According to IMDB.com, this Jekyll had the honor of being the first picture screened at the first first film festival ever: the Venice Film Festival came into being in 1932, and it continues hosting some of the screen’s best nearly a century later. Furthermore, at a time when Universal’s productions were thrilling and chilling American audiences, it was Jekyll’s Fredric March – in the guise of the medicinally-tormented physician turned madman – who won Horror’s very first Academy Award ever.
Those are two feathers in an incredible cap, indeed.
Alas, it wasn’t even a decade after the film’s release that it was nearly forgotten, and such an oversight was deliberate. As Fate would have it, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer secured the rights to produce their version of the Stevenson story; and – in the process – they went out of their way to have the 1931 incarnation suppressed. Wikipedia.org suggests that the studio went so far as to local and destroy what they believe to have been all prints of March’s star-turning performance; and the feature was believed for many years to have been lost. Thankfully, it survives to this day despite a rather nefarious campaign to see it unnecessarily removed from history.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Dr. Jekyll faces horrible consequences when he lets his dark side run wild with a potion that transforms him into the animalistic Mr. Hyde.”
As impressive as the 1931 incarnation of Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde is – and make no mistake as this one is very impressive for its day and endures quite well even today – it still includes some curious choices that I think lessen the experience.
In ways, it’s almost like director Rouben Mamoulian was experimenting at times with other ways to craft his narrative; and – as interesting as they might be – I thought the visual trickery occasionally got in the way of the story being told. There are a few sequences captured as if they’re intended to be first person – told directly from the point of view of Dr. Jekyll – and I found myself wondering why on more than once. For example, when he’s in the world of Mr. Hyde, such flourish makes more sense – the audience gets transported in such a way that they see the world through the eyes of a lunatic. But there just weren’t enough differences between the two perspectives – Jekyll vs. Hyde – to have the technique register as smartly as it probably could have, making it a bit of a misfire for me.
Additionally, Mamoulian employed some other wipe dissolves, a way of deliberately showing the demarcation between two scenes while an obvious bar separates them for clarity’s sake. (As this dissolve evolved in film, the bar became much less noticeable, thankfully.) Essentially, it would appear that the director wanted to demonstrate (rather obviously) the duality of the story and its various circumstances, perhaps doubling down on the motif of two personalities that ties directly to the central subject matter. Sure, it’s a nice way of showing what’s going on simultaneously with different characters, but I thought it grew tiring after the first few uses. Later in the flick, it’s almost downright parodic the way Mamoulian chose to hold two opposing viewpoints for so long; if the point can’t be made in a few seconds, then perhaps it should’ve been jettisoned.
Setting aside my reservations with the finished product, there is just so much remaining that’s worthy of some unquestioned love.
Because this was made before the Hays Code went into effect (1934-1968), this Jekyll retains an incredible and noticeable undercurrent of human sexuality, something later iterations would temper if not ignore completely. For example, Dr. Jekyll expends a great deal of heartfelt expressions of traditional love for his fiancé, Muriel Carew (Rose Hobart). He speaks somewhat profoundly and poetically about his feelings for her, and she responds with equal almost Shakespearean aplomb. But such flowery language has no place in the exchanges between Mr. Hyde and Ivy Pearson (Miriam Hopkins as a bar-singing temptress); he’s prone to violence and torture in their moments alone, driven somewhat obsessed with her voluptuousness. Though I’ve read these romantic entanglements were not part of the original Stevenson tale, they’re introduced and handled so elegantly here one might wonder how they were ever possibly left out.
Still, what works best in all of this is March, so much so that his Academy Award win makes perfect sense. He handles the dual roles here with incredible ease, imbuing Hyde with an almost animalistic propensity to every subtle gesture while allowing Jekyll to possess that world-serving high-mindedness whenever he’s on screen. The actor clearly foisted this whole affair onto his capable shoulders, and I’ve read that audiences of the day loved it, making it stand alongside Universal’s monster universe as it should.
This one definitely earned its place in history despite the efforts of some who would rather have had it forgotten for all the wrong reasons.
Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde (1931) was produced by Paramount Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Bros. via the WB Archive Collection. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I thought the pictures sights and sounds were very good from start-to-finish. As for the special features? Given the fact that I viewed this one on television, there were no special features under consideration.
Highest recommendation possible.
In the interests of fairness, I viewed Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde (1931) from a recent airing on Turner Classic Movies; and I was in no way, shape, or form beholden to anyone to produce a review. I did this one entirely because I wanted to, and I’m glad I did. This version is, arguably, one of the best out there.
-- EZ
Setting aside my reservations with the finished product, there is just so much remaining that’s worthy of some unquestioned love.
Because this was made before the Hays Code went into effect (1934-1968), this Jekyll retains an incredible and noticeable undercurrent of human sexuality, something later iterations would temper if not ignore completely. For example, Dr. Jekyll expends a great deal of heartfelt expressions of traditional love for his fiancé, Muriel Carew (Rose Hobart). He speaks somewhat profoundly and poetically about his feelings for her, and she responds with equal almost Shakespearean aplomb. But such flowery language has no place in the exchanges between Mr. Hyde and Ivy Pearson (Miriam Hopkins as a bar-singing temptress); he’s prone to violence and torture in their moments alone, driven somewhat obsessed with her voluptuousness. Though I’ve read these romantic entanglements were not part of the original Stevenson tale, they’re introduced and handled so elegantly here one might wonder how they were ever possibly left out.
Still, what works best in all of this is March, so much so that his Academy Award win makes perfect sense. He handles the dual roles here with incredible ease, imbuing Hyde with an almost animalistic propensity to every subtle gesture while allowing Jekyll to possess that world-serving high-mindedness whenever he’s on screen. The actor clearly foisted this whole affair onto his capable shoulders, and I’ve read that audiences of the day loved it, making it stand alongside Universal’s monster universe as it should.
This one definitely earned its place in history despite the efforts of some who would rather have had it forgotten for all the wrong reasons.
Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde (1931) was produced by Paramount Pictures. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Bros. via the WB Archive Collection. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I thought the pictures sights and sounds were very good from start-to-finish. As for the special features? Given the fact that I viewed this one on television, there were no special features under consideration.
Highest recommendation possible.
In the interests of fairness, I viewed Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde (1931) from a recent airing on Turner Classic Movies; and I was in no way, shape, or form beholden to anyone to produce a review. I did this one entirely because I wanted to, and I’m glad I did. This version is, arguably, one of the best out there.
-- EZ
- Published on
Good morning and Happy Monday, gentle readers; and welcome to the start of an all-new week! Here's hoping that your weekend was spectacular, but don't let the fact that it's a new week set you back, peeps. Seize the day! SEIZE THE DAY! Tame that b#tch, and make it your own! You deserve no less.
Well, well, well ... what do I have for you today?
Not a whole lot to ruminate over from the weekend. It was reasonably busy, true, but not a lot to report as it pertains to All Things Genre. I did, however, manage to watch on television last night the 1931 version of Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde. It's honestly a very impressive adaptation, and it's very smartly made. The director included some weird visual cuts between a few scenes that were a bit experimental, it would seem, that I found distracting. They weren't as seamless as I think they could've been, but who knows? The producers might've wanted to tinker with the technology of the day to show audiences something different, especially given the era. I'll do some reading on it, and then I'll likely pen a review for this space. Interested readers should keep their eyes peeled.
As for today's citations?
There's a goodly amount -- an amazing 63, at present -- and I do have a few more that I'll likely be adding over the course of the day. I'm still working on a review for The Desperate Hours that I intend to get up this afternoon (at the latest) -- it's one of the better film noirs ever made, as I see things -- and maybe a few other surprises. But among the highlights for today is included the 25th anniversay of Soldier, a Kurt Russell flick that never got enough love. Good picture. Excellent ideas. And yet it's a feature that feels forgotten. That's sad.
In any event, I won't belabor the issue for you. What you really want is the gateway -- the link -- to all this gathered goodness, and here it is ...
Well, well, well ... what do I have for you today?
Not a whole lot to ruminate over from the weekend. It was reasonably busy, true, but not a lot to report as it pertains to All Things Genre. I did, however, manage to watch on television last night the 1931 version of Dr. Jekyll And Mr. Hyde. It's honestly a very impressive adaptation, and it's very smartly made. The director included some weird visual cuts between a few scenes that were a bit experimental, it would seem, that I found distracting. They weren't as seamless as I think they could've been, but who knows? The producers might've wanted to tinker with the technology of the day to show audiences something different, especially given the era. I'll do some reading on it, and then I'll likely pen a review for this space. Interested readers should keep their eyes peeled.
As for today's citations?
There's a goodly amount -- an amazing 63, at present -- and I do have a few more that I'll likely be adding over the course of the day. I'm still working on a review for The Desperate Hours that I intend to get up this afternoon (at the latest) -- it's one of the better film noirs ever made, as I see things -- and maybe a few other surprises. But among the highlights for today is included the 25th anniversay of Soldier, a Kurt Russell flick that never got enough love. Good picture. Excellent ideas. And yet it's a feature that feels forgotten. That's sad.
In any event, I won't belabor the issue for you. What you really want is the gateway -- the link -- to all this gathered goodness, and here it is ...
As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing (always a huge plus, folks) ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
One of Horror’s enduring rewards is that – even when done poorly – the films often tell us something about our society.
These pictures speak to what frightens us, what motivates us when we’re trapped in the direst set of circumstances. By unlocking these fears, we’re informed about just how we got to this place – what it means to ignore the warnings of prophecy or reject the advice of those who might know better – and how far we’re willing to sacrifice our individual humanity in pursuit of living another day. Such examinations might tell us where we’re headed as a society, and they might even produce a diagnosis that the social justice warriors among us use to enact whatever form of positive social change they find necessary to propel us into the next generation. Sadly, such revolution will last only until the next trend in terror puts us on a new trajectory, leaving that vicious cycle to play out over and over and over again … or, at least, until those of us who seemingly knew better are little more than six feet under or ashes in colorful urns on mantles of our descendants.
Sigh.
But sometimes into this process a motion picture gets inserted that doesn’t quite fit the bill. Let’s say it’s a story not unlike a beautiful young woman going in search of a lost father who never quite finds him but does locate a seaside town where residents worship some creature from the past whose return will herald a new age of atrocities. Though this film may have all of the elements prescribed to produce nightmares for the audience, it’s strung together so curiously – with far too many vague intentions and characters – that it instead musters up little more than a collective headache.
For me, Messiah Of Evil is such an attempt.
And – unlike it – I won’t leave you hanging for answers.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
These pictures speak to what frightens us, what motivates us when we’re trapped in the direst set of circumstances. By unlocking these fears, we’re informed about just how we got to this place – what it means to ignore the warnings of prophecy or reject the advice of those who might know better – and how far we’re willing to sacrifice our individual humanity in pursuit of living another day. Such examinations might tell us where we’re headed as a society, and they might even produce a diagnosis that the social justice warriors among us use to enact whatever form of positive social change they find necessary to propel us into the next generation. Sadly, such revolution will last only until the next trend in terror puts us on a new trajectory, leaving that vicious cycle to play out over and over and over again … or, at least, until those of us who seemingly knew better are little more than six feet under or ashes in colorful urns on mantles of our descendants.
Sigh.
But sometimes into this process a motion picture gets inserted that doesn’t quite fit the bill. Let’s say it’s a story not unlike a beautiful young woman going in search of a lost father who never quite finds him but does locate a seaside town where residents worship some creature from the past whose return will herald a new age of atrocities. Though this film may have all of the elements prescribed to produce nightmares for the audience, it’s strung together so curiously – with far too many vague intentions and characters – that it instead musters up little more than a collective headache.
For me, Messiah Of Evil is such an attempt.
And – unlike it – I won’t leave you hanging for answers.
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A young woman goes searching for her missing artist father. Her journey takes her to a strange Californian seaside town governed by a mysterious undead cult.”
Horror – much like comedy – can be difficult to achieve the desired results. For example, what I find funny isn’t exactly what you find funny – and so on and so forth – and Horror works much the same. What truly frightens me isn’t necessarily what truly frightens you, so the task of both evaluating and recommending such films for mass consumption can be a trying experience. So I do try to approach both of these genres with what I think is a very broad brush, honing in on the specifics of what worked and what didn’t as opposed to concentrating solely on what’s funny (or horrific) and what’s flat (or unscary).
Does that make sense?
Well, that statement alone might make more sense than does a significant portion of Messiah Of Evil. Frankly, the film’s void of any messiah to begin with – oh, yes, there are some rather obvious hints – and just what his (or her) role might be both in the film and across its story was handled with far too much restraint for my tastes. Evil works best when it’s fully defined – with all its blemishes – but this Messiah trafficked in too much atmosphere and too little specificity to be appreciated beyond just film scholars, genre fanatics, and academics. It’s never truly scary, to be honest, though it does deliver some occasionally infectious ideas here and there.
Written and directed by the team of Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz (the same team that just over a decade later would produce – with George Lucas, nonetheless – the cinematic fart that was 1986’s Howard The Duck), Messiah stars the beautiful Marianna Hill as Arletty Lang, a young maiden with (apparently) no real past who goes in search of her father Joseph (Royal Dano) reported missing from his residence in Point Dume. (For reasons I can’t figure, the town is rather vastly regarded as ‘Point Dune’ across the World Wide Web, but it’s rather clearly spelled P-o-i-n-t D-u-m-e in the film’s materials. So sue me, haters.) Arletty finds no big clues in his curiously artistic home but manages to locate his written journal which basically only clarifies that the village and its residents are not quite what they seem … as if the audience didn’t already know.
Still, she does find a seaside world that’s curiously out-of-sync in ways that defy the mechanics of typical small towns. No one seems to speak to one another. They spend their days walking about in a kinda/sorta zombified stupor, and they’re even occasionally shown bleeding from their eyes or munching on packages of raw meat at the local grocery store. The curator of the local art gallery – a place where Arletty’s father showed some of his works – is run by a blind woman. At night, the townsfolk gather on the beaches, light small bonfires, and stare in silence at the surf constantly berating the shore. There’s a suggestion that they’re waiting for something or someone, and this reality feeds heavily into Messiah’s second half, though it’s ultimately left unresolved (so far as I can tell).
“A young woman goes searching for her missing artist father. Her journey takes her to a strange Californian seaside town governed by a mysterious undead cult.”
Horror – much like comedy – can be difficult to achieve the desired results. For example, what I find funny isn’t exactly what you find funny – and so on and so forth – and Horror works much the same. What truly frightens me isn’t necessarily what truly frightens you, so the task of both evaluating and recommending such films for mass consumption can be a trying experience. So I do try to approach both of these genres with what I think is a very broad brush, honing in on the specifics of what worked and what didn’t as opposed to concentrating solely on what’s funny (or horrific) and what’s flat (or unscary).
Does that make sense?
Well, that statement alone might make more sense than does a significant portion of Messiah Of Evil. Frankly, the film’s void of any messiah to begin with – oh, yes, there are some rather obvious hints – and just what his (or her) role might be both in the film and across its story was handled with far too much restraint for my tastes. Evil works best when it’s fully defined – with all its blemishes – but this Messiah trafficked in too much atmosphere and too little specificity to be appreciated beyond just film scholars, genre fanatics, and academics. It’s never truly scary, to be honest, though it does deliver some occasionally infectious ideas here and there.
Written and directed by the team of Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz (the same team that just over a decade later would produce – with George Lucas, nonetheless – the cinematic fart that was 1986’s Howard The Duck), Messiah stars the beautiful Marianna Hill as Arletty Lang, a young maiden with (apparently) no real past who goes in search of her father Joseph (Royal Dano) reported missing from his residence in Point Dume. (For reasons I can’t figure, the town is rather vastly regarded as ‘Point Dune’ across the World Wide Web, but it’s rather clearly spelled P-o-i-n-t D-u-m-e in the film’s materials. So sue me, haters.) Arletty finds no big clues in his curiously artistic home but manages to locate his written journal which basically only clarifies that the village and its residents are not quite what they seem … as if the audience didn’t already know.
Still, she does find a seaside world that’s curiously out-of-sync in ways that defy the mechanics of typical small towns. No one seems to speak to one another. They spend their days walking about in a kinda/sorta zombified stupor, and they’re even occasionally shown bleeding from their eyes or munching on packages of raw meat at the local grocery store. The curator of the local art gallery – a place where Arletty’s father showed some of his works – is run by a blind woman. At night, the townsfolk gather on the beaches, light small bonfires, and stare in silence at the surf constantly berating the shore. There’s a suggestion that they’re waiting for something or someone, and this reality feeds heavily into Messiah’s second half, though it’s ultimately left unresolved (so far as I can tell).
In her quest to locate her missing dad, Arletty is joined by Thom (Michael Greer) and his free-spirited travelling companions, Toni (Joy Bang) and Laura (Anitra Ford). Once it becomes obvious that they’ve lost Thom’s affections – which are now squarely focused on seducing Arletty – the ladies become traditional Horror victims, falling to the bloody way of life that makes up residency in Point Dume. While tragic, their respective passings serve to finally shed a bit of light on what’s wrong with these townsfolk: they’ve become mesmerized by cannibalism – introduced to them by a traveler in the past whose return has been prophesized – a reality that puts any and all outsiders on the proverbial menu.
Part of my problem in both understanding and endorsing Messiah is that its narrative rarely if ever clarifies what’s authentically going on.
For example, in an early scene Arletty stops at a roadside gas station for service only to discover the attendant wildly shooting his revolver in the adjacent field. Though he says something about wolves and/or dogs howling in the night, the audience is never told what he’s up to nor why this scene is even in the film. The attendant does become a victim of a violent albino (Bennie Robinson) who appears several times in the picture, always tied to such acts of civil disobedience; but his increasingly bizarre behavior is never defined. He’s macabre and violent for the sake of being macabre and violent.
And, frankly, I could go on and on and on with many more examples because that’s a good degree of what makes up this overall plot of Messiah. Strange scenes – along with some bloody sequences – are strung together with what I can only suggest was desired to create the atmosphere of ‘something wicked this way comes.’ If all of this was tied directly to the village’s history, then why couldn’t it have been perfectly spelled out? If they’ve been like this for decades, then how is it that there are still residents who’ve seemingly resisted the temptation to resort to cannibalism and the like? So very much of what transpires within feels like it was intentionally plotted out to be nothing more than weird; and weird without context is just … well … it’s just plain weird.
Messiah very strongly reminded me of another picture, 1981’s Dead & Buried (directed by Gary Sherman). In that film, the new sheriff to a small seaside town slowly uncovers a very dark secret about the residents and himself; and the script as fashioned by Jeff Millar, Alex Stern, and Ronald Shusett takes the audience on this journey of discovery, concluding with our lead’s unearthing his own dark fate. In ways big and small, Messiah feels like this was an earlier attempt to crack open the veneer of a sleepy yet equally exotic locale to find a cultural monster lurking beneath. The problem, however, is that so very little is spelled out, leaving me – as the voyeur – to fill in the blanks and make sense of pieces that should’ve been assembled by a better storyteller … unless confusion was the intended result.
The real shame to all of this is that both Hill and Greer showed up and hit their marks, as did Bang, Ford, and even Robinson. No one ‘phoned it in,’ and it’s very clear these players were committed to bringing something authentically bizarre to life; I just wish I knew more about what that was. Heck, even the great Hollywood regular Elisha Cook Jr. has a few good scenes wherein he’s clearly trying to warn Arletty that residence in Point Dume does not come without consequence; sadly, she ignores his cautioning probably because so much of what he said made so very little sense … much like I found this film.
Part of my problem in both understanding and endorsing Messiah is that its narrative rarely if ever clarifies what’s authentically going on.
For example, in an early scene Arletty stops at a roadside gas station for service only to discover the attendant wildly shooting his revolver in the adjacent field. Though he says something about wolves and/or dogs howling in the night, the audience is never told what he’s up to nor why this scene is even in the film. The attendant does become a victim of a violent albino (Bennie Robinson) who appears several times in the picture, always tied to such acts of civil disobedience; but his increasingly bizarre behavior is never defined. He’s macabre and violent for the sake of being macabre and violent.
And, frankly, I could go on and on and on with many more examples because that’s a good degree of what makes up this overall plot of Messiah. Strange scenes – along with some bloody sequences – are strung together with what I can only suggest was desired to create the atmosphere of ‘something wicked this way comes.’ If all of this was tied directly to the village’s history, then why couldn’t it have been perfectly spelled out? If they’ve been like this for decades, then how is it that there are still residents who’ve seemingly resisted the temptation to resort to cannibalism and the like? So very much of what transpires within feels like it was intentionally plotted out to be nothing more than weird; and weird without context is just … well … it’s just plain weird.
Messiah very strongly reminded me of another picture, 1981’s Dead & Buried (directed by Gary Sherman). In that film, the new sheriff to a small seaside town slowly uncovers a very dark secret about the residents and himself; and the script as fashioned by Jeff Millar, Alex Stern, and Ronald Shusett takes the audience on this journey of discovery, concluding with our lead’s unearthing his own dark fate. In ways big and small, Messiah feels like this was an earlier attempt to crack open the veneer of a sleepy yet equally exotic locale to find a cultural monster lurking beneath. The problem, however, is that so very little is spelled out, leaving me – as the voyeur – to fill in the blanks and make sense of pieces that should’ve been assembled by a better storyteller … unless confusion was the intended result.
The real shame to all of this is that both Hill and Greer showed up and hit their marks, as did Bang, Ford, and even Robinson. No one ‘phoned it in,’ and it’s very clear these players were committed to bringing something authentically bizarre to life; I just wish I knew more about what that was. Heck, even the great Hollywood regular Elisha Cook Jr. has a few good scenes wherein he’s clearly trying to warn Arletty that residence in Point Dume does not come without consequence; sadly, she ignores his cautioning probably because so much of what he said made so very little sense … much like I found this film.
Messiah Of Evil (1974) [aka Messiah Of The Living Dead; aka Return Of The Living Dead] was produced by V/M Productions and International Cine Film Corporation. DVD distribution (for this particular ‘limited edition’ release) is being coordinated by the fine folks at Radiance Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights and sounds to this all-new reported 4K restoration to be exceptionally good; there are a few sequences here and there with some obvious grain, but I think it’s all in keeping with the overall mood of the piece, so it’s not distracting in the slightest.
If you’re looking for special features? Blu-ray.com has a full listing of them, so I’m doing the copy-and-paste from their site for posterity’s sake:
Recommended, but …
I’ve always been a fan of obscure films, mostly because I try to go into the whole experience with some intention of figuring out why a feature may or may not have resonated more strongly with audiences; but I’ll admit I find all of the high praise I’ve read online for Messiah Of Evil more than a bit confusing. While the production easily scores some impressive marks on creating and heightening atmosphere, the script from Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz explains so very little of these characters and what’s happening that I’m at a loss over what to make of a few sequences. If this makes sense, Messiah ‘feels’ more frightening than it ever ‘shows,’ and I believe those who are apt to spend their spare time trying to figure out what it all meant will enjoy this one more than most. It’s an oddity … but in a good way.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Radiance Films provided me with a Blu-ray screener copy of Messiah Of Evil (1974) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
If you’re looking for special features? Blu-ray.com has a full listing of them, so I’m doing the copy-and-paste from their site for posterity’s sake:
- NEW 4K RESTORATION from the best-surviving elements of the film from the Academy Film Archive (2023)
- Uncompressed mono PCM audio
- Audio commentary by critics and horror experts Kim Newman and Stephen Thrower
- Archival interview with co-writer-director Willard Huyck by Mike White from the Projection Booth Podcast
- A new documentary on the film with more information to be revealed
- Visual essay on the American Gothic by critic Kat Ellinger
- Trailer
- English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing
- Reversible sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Time Tomorrow
- Limited edition 80-page booklet featuring new and archival writing
- Limited edition of 3000 copies, presented in rigid box and full-height Scanavo packaging with removable OBI strip leaving packaging free of certificates and markings
Recommended, but …
I’ve always been a fan of obscure films, mostly because I try to go into the whole experience with some intention of figuring out why a feature may or may not have resonated more strongly with audiences; but I’ll admit I find all of the high praise I’ve read online for Messiah Of Evil more than a bit confusing. While the production easily scores some impressive marks on creating and heightening atmosphere, the script from Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz explains so very little of these characters and what’s happening that I’m at a loss over what to make of a few sequences. If this makes sense, Messiah ‘feels’ more frightening than it ever ‘shows,’ and I believe those who are apt to spend their spare time trying to figure out what it all meant will enjoy this one more than most. It’s an oddity … but in a good way.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Radiance Films provided me with a Blu-ray screener copy of Messiah Of Evil (1974) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last three paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Four friends are kidnapped by a madman and locked in a house with six other people. Each of the captives has to endure life-threatening torture to fill a device attached to their heads or they will be trapped inside forever.”
Never let it be said that Horror films make perfect sense.
For clarity’s sake, let me further explain the plot: each of these inhabitants abducted and detained in this fully sealed house has been specially fitted with a medical instrument that extracts chemicals manufactured by his or her brain only during moments of extreme stress. Tampering with it in any way will cause the instrument to release a deadly toxin that will kill the wearer. Over the course of the next twenty-four hours, the group is tasked with cooperating to produce the desired amount of these sought after chemicals; should they successfully complete the task, then they’ll presumably be set free. If they fail to do so, they’ll all be murdered.
How can they produce what’s desired?
Why, they need to torture one another, of course.
However, at one point in Eric Jay Beck and Rob Kowsaluk’s script for Vile – originally shot and released over a decade ago but likely seeing new light-of-day thanks to director Taylor Sheridan’s rising stardom (with the Yellowstone TV saga) – one character points out that these same brain chemicals sought by their captor are produced both in torture as well as during sex. (I’ve done a bit of Googling, and, yes, this would appear to be the case, though I did follow one rabbit hole suggesting levels may’ve been much lower.) So when sex and even masturbation could’ve done the job, this group of wayward souls instead decided torture was the way to go.
Good grief. No wonder we’re going extinct.
Essentially, that’s about all there is to the increasingly bloody yarn that makes up all of Vile. Similar in concept to the popular Saw franchise (albeit with vastly more primitive sequences), the film goes about the business of beating, batting, breaking, bloodying, and bruising these occupants in ways that do grow a bit more creative with each tick of the clock and never revisits why they’re all so damn happy to sacrifice their humanity at such a heavy price. Naturally, it unspools with shifting alliances – as you can imagine, a few of them take a bit too vigorously to these pursuits – and there are hints that one or another might even be behind all of it … but such nuance never really matters when the butts in the seats are motivated chiefly by the gratuitous violence.
And, yes, there’s plenty of that.
IMDB.com reports that Vile was previously released theatrically and on home video over a decade ago, so why (oh why) would it take ten years for this gruesome little picture to be rediscovered? Though I could be wrong, I’m inclined to point fingers at Sheridan’s involvement as serving as the catalyst for its re-release. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of capitalism here and there, but given this one’s bare bones construction a thinking person might question whether or not Sheridan would want his name attached to this one any longer. Now that he’s found stardom, such baseless pursuits might cheapen his brand. But who knows? A buck made is a buck made, after all, and kudos to all of those who showed up and bled for the cause.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Four friends are kidnapped by a madman and locked in a house with six other people. Each of the captives has to endure life-threatening torture to fill a device attached to their heads or they will be trapped inside forever.”
Never let it be said that Horror films make perfect sense.
For clarity’s sake, let me further explain the plot: each of these inhabitants abducted and detained in this fully sealed house has been specially fitted with a medical instrument that extracts chemicals manufactured by his or her brain only during moments of extreme stress. Tampering with it in any way will cause the instrument to release a deadly toxin that will kill the wearer. Over the course of the next twenty-four hours, the group is tasked with cooperating to produce the desired amount of these sought after chemicals; should they successfully complete the task, then they’ll presumably be set free. If they fail to do so, they’ll all be murdered.
How can they produce what’s desired?
Why, they need to torture one another, of course.
However, at one point in Eric Jay Beck and Rob Kowsaluk’s script for Vile – originally shot and released over a decade ago but likely seeing new light-of-day thanks to director Taylor Sheridan’s rising stardom (with the Yellowstone TV saga) – one character points out that these same brain chemicals sought by their captor are produced both in torture as well as during sex. (I’ve done a bit of Googling, and, yes, this would appear to be the case, though I did follow one rabbit hole suggesting levels may’ve been much lower.) So when sex and even masturbation could’ve done the job, this group of wayward souls instead decided torture was the way to go.
Good grief. No wonder we’re going extinct.
Essentially, that’s about all there is to the increasingly bloody yarn that makes up all of Vile. Similar in concept to the popular Saw franchise (albeit with vastly more primitive sequences), the film goes about the business of beating, batting, breaking, bloodying, and bruising these occupants in ways that do grow a bit more creative with each tick of the clock and never revisits why they’re all so damn happy to sacrifice their humanity at such a heavy price. Naturally, it unspools with shifting alliances – as you can imagine, a few of them take a bit too vigorously to these pursuits – and there are hints that one or another might even be behind all of it … but such nuance never really matters when the butts in the seats are motivated chiefly by the gratuitous violence.
And, yes, there’s plenty of that.
IMDB.com reports that Vile was previously released theatrically and on home video over a decade ago, so why (oh why) would it take ten years for this gruesome little picture to be rediscovered? Though I could be wrong, I’m inclined to point fingers at Sheridan’s involvement as serving as the catalyst for its re-release. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of capitalism here and there, but given this one’s bare bones construction a thinking person might question whether or not Sheridan would want his name attached to this one any longer. Now that he’s found stardom, such baseless pursuits might cheapen his brand. But who knows? A buck made is a buck made, after all, and kudos to all of those who showed up and bled for the cause.
Alas, there’s just not a good deal to react to with Vile. Its pursuits are the kind of thing that audiences are either into or they’re not – meaning torture – so any further dissection is really best left to what transpires on screen.
Its performances – while nice here and there – don’t offer up anything new or novel to the whole torture sub-genre. Screenwriter Beck also gets top billing here, and why shouldn’t he? Wasn’t it safest for him to show his fellow castmates that he, too, was willing to put his mouth where his money was? Sadly, far too many of the others just blend together too much to draw much praise or reflect on what they accomplished. In fact, I question why so little effort was made by these characters to truly explore their prison – was there really no means of escape? – but perhaps that’s fodder left on the cutting room floor. The players all vacillate reasonably well between moments of mental and physical angst. A stronger script might’ve given them more to work with when it comes to their respective motivations; but – at the end of it all – what was required was a lot of screaming, wriggling, crying, sweating, moaning, staring, and bleeding.
Their demographic excels in all of those categories.
Vile (2011) was produced by Tony-Seven Films and Vile Entertainment. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the fine folks at MVD Visual Entertainment Group. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I had some minor issues with the sights and sounds on this one, though it’s far more a question of aesthetic choice than anything else. Why capture some sequences like they were home video bits? Why not commit fully to a theatrical format as so much of the picture was done? It’s a distraction, but thankfully it only works in bookend segments to the production. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? There are a few deleted scenes (mostly unnecessary filler that never quite progresses the plot) and the theatrical trailer, but that’s all, folks. Disappointing as I’m probably one of the last reviewers alive who dig commentaries, but it is what it is.
Recommended because …
There will likely always be an audience for this kind of violent picture, and I say that not in any way to celebrate the torture that fuels nearly each and every scene of Vile (2011). Fans of Horror have a long fascination with such acts, all the way back to the schlock days when pioneering auteurs introduced power tools to a handful of direct-to-VHS release markets. Screenwriters Beck and Kowsaluk do try (in small ways) to give a few of these players some added dimensions, but – hey – don’t kid yourselves, folks. Those who screen this are chiefly interested in the torture, and until they’re dishing out Oscars in the category “Most Bloodcurdling Screamer In A Supporting Role” that’ll always likely be the case.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at MVD Visual Entertainment provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Vile (2011) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Its performances – while nice here and there – don’t offer up anything new or novel to the whole torture sub-genre. Screenwriter Beck also gets top billing here, and why shouldn’t he? Wasn’t it safest for him to show his fellow castmates that he, too, was willing to put his mouth where his money was? Sadly, far too many of the others just blend together too much to draw much praise or reflect on what they accomplished. In fact, I question why so little effort was made by these characters to truly explore their prison – was there really no means of escape? – but perhaps that’s fodder left on the cutting room floor. The players all vacillate reasonably well between moments of mental and physical angst. A stronger script might’ve given them more to work with when it comes to their respective motivations; but – at the end of it all – what was required was a lot of screaming, wriggling, crying, sweating, moaning, staring, and bleeding.
Their demographic excels in all of those categories.
Vile (2011) was produced by Tony-Seven Films and Vile Entertainment. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the fine folks at MVD Visual Entertainment Group. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I had some minor issues with the sights and sounds on this one, though it’s far more a question of aesthetic choice than anything else. Why capture some sequences like they were home video bits? Why not commit fully to a theatrical format as so much of the picture was done? It’s a distraction, but thankfully it only works in bookend segments to the production. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? There are a few deleted scenes (mostly unnecessary filler that never quite progresses the plot) and the theatrical trailer, but that’s all, folks. Disappointing as I’m probably one of the last reviewers alive who dig commentaries, but it is what it is.
Recommended because …
There will likely always be an audience for this kind of violent picture, and I say that not in any way to celebrate the torture that fuels nearly each and every scene of Vile (2011). Fans of Horror have a long fascination with such acts, all the way back to the schlock days when pioneering auteurs introduced power tools to a handful of direct-to-VHS release markets. Screenwriters Beck and Kowsaluk do try (in small ways) to give a few of these players some added dimensions, but – hey – don’t kid yourselves, folks. Those who screen this are chiefly interested in the torture, and until they’re dishing out Oscars in the category “Most Bloodcurdling Screamer In A Supporting Role” that’ll always likely be the case.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at MVD Visual Entertainment provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Vile (2011) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters. If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Medieval knights executed for their black magic rituals come back as zombies to torment a group of vacationing college kids.”
Well … good grief, IMDB.com. Not that anyone’s watching sometimes, but that synopsis? That’s barely even accurate. Yes, Tombs Of The Blind Dead does focus on these re-animated medieval knights – they definitely possess a Templar-style look, though I’ve read that was not specifically intended – but the vacationing college kids? The two women were former college roommates – a curiously-included subplot involved their (cough cough) dalliance with lesbianism, a make-out session that pretty much sprang up with what I’ll call European ease – but they’ve clearly moved on from school and are in the prime of their post-educational lives. Granted, one of them still has her schoolgirl charms (and looks), but the other? Well … who am I to talk?
As has been known to happen to me when I’m exploring some of these throwback Horror imports, I’ll do a bit of research that leads me to find both the making-of these pictures and what happens to them subsequently far more interesting than the stories themselves. This isn’t to suggest that Tombs is all that bad as a feature production; it’s loaded with some solid location photography along with some very proficient in-camera effects work from the era. I don’t believe writer/director Amando de Ossorio achieved anything deserving huge accolades with this work, but I have read that it was mostly warmly received by Spanish audiences as well as other European markets. In fact, one source strongly suggests that Ossorio almost singlehandedly resurrected the zombie flick for Spain; and I suppose that fact alone explains just how this otherwise thin affair paved the way for not one, not two, but (apparently) three sequels.
Such success always says something, though I’ll admit to some confusion as to what specifically.
As for outside of Spain? Horror scholars and academics have apparently written fondly about Tombs. Wikipedia.org states that it was originally known as The Blind Dead in the United States, though a few years later some enterprising studio executives crafted the idea to re-edit the production alongside newly inserted footage that somehow (???) tied the resulting adventure into the more widely known Planet Of The Apes saga. The new cut was, aptly, titled Revenge From Planet Ape. Go figure.
But as to the efficacy of the original?
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Medieval knights executed for their black magic rituals come back as zombies to torment a group of vacationing college kids.”
Well … good grief, IMDB.com. Not that anyone’s watching sometimes, but that synopsis? That’s barely even accurate. Yes, Tombs Of The Blind Dead does focus on these re-animated medieval knights – they definitely possess a Templar-style look, though I’ve read that was not specifically intended – but the vacationing college kids? The two women were former college roommates – a curiously-included subplot involved their (cough cough) dalliance with lesbianism, a make-out session that pretty much sprang up with what I’ll call European ease – but they’ve clearly moved on from school and are in the prime of their post-educational lives. Granted, one of them still has her schoolgirl charms (and looks), but the other? Well … who am I to talk?
As has been known to happen to me when I’m exploring some of these throwback Horror imports, I’ll do a bit of research that leads me to find both the making-of these pictures and what happens to them subsequently far more interesting than the stories themselves. This isn’t to suggest that Tombs is all that bad as a feature production; it’s loaded with some solid location photography along with some very proficient in-camera effects work from the era. I don’t believe writer/director Amando de Ossorio achieved anything deserving huge accolades with this work, but I have read that it was mostly warmly received by Spanish audiences as well as other European markets. In fact, one source strongly suggests that Ossorio almost singlehandedly resurrected the zombie flick for Spain; and I suppose that fact alone explains just how this otherwise thin affair paved the way for not one, not two, but (apparently) three sequels.
Such success always says something, though I’ll admit to some confusion as to what specifically.
As for outside of Spain? Horror scholars and academics have apparently written fondly about Tombs. Wikipedia.org states that it was originally known as The Blind Dead in the United States, though a few years later some enterprising studio executives crafted the idea to re-edit the production alongside newly inserted footage that somehow (???) tied the resulting adventure into the more widely known Planet Of The Apes saga. The new cut was, aptly, titled Revenge From Planet Ape. Go figure.
But as to the efficacy of the original?
Having seen an ungodly number of zombie pictures myself, I just fail to see a good deal worth writing home about. I’ve always been a stickler for the ‘hows’ and the ‘whys’ that make these supernatural yarns work, and Tomb is more than a bit light. It would seem that these knights come out of their graves at night for the sole purpose of … well … other than sucking the blood from anyone who might happen along this haunt in the Spanish outskirts that would appear to be their only nocturnal activity. (Me? I prefer a good book.) Ossorio’s script suggests that the locals are fully aware that this tiny, abandoned villa is haunted, and it doesn’t appear to have impacted tourism to the country’s detriment. Sadly, ghostbusting didn’t grow en vogue until the mid-1980’s, but that’s another franchise entirely.
My biggest concern with it is the fact that these knights both are and are not presented as zombies … at least, so far as audiences have been educated on such matters. Clearly, they’re ghosts of a sort … right? I mean, these are reanimated ghouls shown rising out of their individual graves – giving credence to their being legitimate ‘undead’ – but apparently, they sleep through the day, very similar to the science of vampires. And they’re shown sustaining themselves with the drinking of blood of their victims, swinging that door open to defining in as something more than traditional zombies – whose diet consists of flesh and brains – but Ossorio stops short of confirming any greater specificity. So they’re arguably more than the routine walking dead, and I think a stronger script should’ve given viewers a bit more for their investment.
Ultimately, Horror films are about atmosphere, and I’m happy to say that in that respect Tombs works in spite of any narrative weakness. The director assembled the requisite time and place wherein this spectral madness comes to life, choosing to set his nightmare amidst the blackness of night and seemingly tying the deeds of these dark knights to this abandoned locale. He doesn’t exactly stick to those particulars perfectly, but regardless Tombs achieves good results as a haunted house story, one given a suitable mythological origin that should’ve served as a warning to any wayward traveler: look elsewhere for your own personal safety or enter at your own risk. This alone makes it a worthy picture.
Outside of the solid but small(ish) effects, location shooting, and costume work, Tombs is still a bit flat.
Betty Turner (played by Lone Fleming) inadvertently steals the male gaze of Roger Whelan (César Burner) away from her former college roommate, Virginia White (María Elena Arpón). In a form of silent protest, Virginia takes her luggage and leaps from the slow-moving train the three have boarded for a weekend away; and she instead takes up holiday in the ghostly town of Berzano. As you might’ve guessed (or should’ve at this point), the knights rise after dark, take more than a few bites from the fetching lass, and leave her for dead. Once they realize that the lady might be in some jeopardy, Betty and Roger make their way to the spooky village, where they are greeted by the police who’ve discovered Ms. White’s grizzled body. At this point, Roger and Betty decide they’re going to privately get to the bottom of this mystery, a crusade that ultimately won’t end well … but does it ever in zombie pictures?
My biggest concern with it is the fact that these knights both are and are not presented as zombies … at least, so far as audiences have been educated on such matters. Clearly, they’re ghosts of a sort … right? I mean, these are reanimated ghouls shown rising out of their individual graves – giving credence to their being legitimate ‘undead’ – but apparently, they sleep through the day, very similar to the science of vampires. And they’re shown sustaining themselves with the drinking of blood of their victims, swinging that door open to defining in as something more than traditional zombies – whose diet consists of flesh and brains – but Ossorio stops short of confirming any greater specificity. So they’re arguably more than the routine walking dead, and I think a stronger script should’ve given viewers a bit more for their investment.
Ultimately, Horror films are about atmosphere, and I’m happy to say that in that respect Tombs works in spite of any narrative weakness. The director assembled the requisite time and place wherein this spectral madness comes to life, choosing to set his nightmare amidst the blackness of night and seemingly tying the deeds of these dark knights to this abandoned locale. He doesn’t exactly stick to those particulars perfectly, but regardless Tombs achieves good results as a haunted house story, one given a suitable mythological origin that should’ve served as a warning to any wayward traveler: look elsewhere for your own personal safety or enter at your own risk. This alone makes it a worthy picture.
Outside of the solid but small(ish) effects, location shooting, and costume work, Tombs is still a bit flat.
Betty Turner (played by Lone Fleming) inadvertently steals the male gaze of Roger Whelan (César Burner) away from her former college roommate, Virginia White (María Elena Arpón). In a form of silent protest, Virginia takes her luggage and leaps from the slow-moving train the three have boarded for a weekend away; and she instead takes up holiday in the ghostly town of Berzano. As you might’ve guessed (or should’ve at this point), the knights rise after dark, take more than a few bites from the fetching lass, and leave her for dead. Once they realize that the lady might be in some jeopardy, Betty and Roger make their way to the spooky village, where they are greeted by the police who’ve discovered Ms. White’s grizzled body. At this point, Roger and Betty decide they’re going to privately get to the bottom of this mystery, a crusade that ultimately won’t end well … but does it ever in zombie pictures?
There’s a bit more to the story – subplots involving a group of nearby smugglers and one of filmdom’s least necessary rape sequences – but all of this is truly second-fiddle to the knights and their quest to … well … just haunt the place and drink blood. Performances of the live players are mostly flat and predictable, though I’ll admit to having a soft spot for Veronica Llimera’s tragically underused character of ‘Maria,’ Betty’s comely assistance back at the mannequin factory. (She’s a bit full of herself but in a good way.) It all comes to an end with more than a few more curious deaths and the cannibalization of the passengers of a passing train. Yes, it’s all left so obviously wide open for a follow-up that I suspect even George A. Romero was blushing at the prospects.
Sometimes, it’s all just better off dead.
Tombs Of The Blind Dead (1972) was produced by Interfilme and Plata Films S.A. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the fine folks at Synapse Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights-and-sounds to be of exceptional quality, though I’ll admit to being no huge fan of mono soundtracks. (It’s a bit tinny here and there, so be warned.) Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? This two-disc set includes the original Spanish-language uncut version of the film along with a curious ‘Americanized’ edit (that ties in with the Planet Of The Apes franchise) along with multiple commentary tracks; a full-length documentary exploring Spain’s flirtation with zombie pictures; some featurettes; a still gallery; theatrical trailers; and a few tidbits to explore. It’s a very impressive collection, and I suspect fans of this production – as well as Horror aficionados – will spend some time with it.
Recommended.
Tombs Of The Blind Dead (1972) manages to occasionally evoke some interesting atmosphere, and that’s a huge plus to all of this considering how bland most of performances are from those still living with a pulse. While the film is credited with giving Spanish Horror a bit of a theatrical resurgence, I can’t help but figure there are better examples of such frightening delights in that nation’s expansive catalogue of efforts. It’s a bit long – and even a bit dull in a rather exhaustive set-up – and yet some of it works marvelously in spite of itself.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Synapse Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Tombs Of The Blind Dead (1972) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Sometimes, it’s all just better off dead.
Tombs Of The Blind Dead (1972) was produced by Interfilme and Plata Films S.A. DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the fine folks at Synapse Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights-and-sounds to be of exceptional quality, though I’ll admit to being no huge fan of mono soundtracks. (It’s a bit tinny here and there, so be warned.) Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? This two-disc set includes the original Spanish-language uncut version of the film along with a curious ‘Americanized’ edit (that ties in with the Planet Of The Apes franchise) along with multiple commentary tracks; a full-length documentary exploring Spain’s flirtation with zombie pictures; some featurettes; a still gallery; theatrical trailers; and a few tidbits to explore. It’s a very impressive collection, and I suspect fans of this production – as well as Horror aficionados – will spend some time with it.
Recommended.
Tombs Of The Blind Dead (1972) manages to occasionally evoke some interesting atmosphere, and that’s a huge plus to all of this considering how bland most of performances are from those still living with a pulse. While the film is credited with giving Spanish Horror a bit of a theatrical resurgence, I can’t help but figure there are better examples of such frightening delights in that nation’s expansive catalogue of efforts. It’s a bit long – and even a bit dull in a rather exhaustive set-up – and yet some of it works marvelously in spite of itself.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Synapse Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Tombs Of The Blind Dead (1972) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
Good morning and Happy Thursday, gentle readers! Welcome to the better half of the week -- as they say! It's all starting to wind down, and I can sense the anticipation for another weekend starting to creep into the morning air. In the meantime, batten down the hatches and get 'er done!
Haha!
As my own public service announcement, I just posted my review of 1972's Horrorific spectral yarn -- Tombs Of The Blind Dead -- right here, and I encourage interested folks to both check it out and maybe even consider picking up a copy. EuroHorror isn't for everyone, I realize, but this one is quite adept in creating a wonderful atmosphere for the cast and crew to exploit in bringing things that go bump in the night to cinematic life. I've read that the film did fuel a bit of a resurgence in popularity in Spanish Horror -- I'll admit to not seeing a great many entries in that field -- so it certainly did something right. It all gets a bit loose in the big finish for my tastes -- when storytellers can't quite close the deal because they want to leave things undone for sequels and the like, I tend to get cold feet -- but it's still an interesting diversion. And this is the month of true Horror, after all, what with Halloween lurking right around the corner.
That reminds me: I've got to get my Halloween decorations up soon.
Egad. Is my work never done?!
In any event, I'm here to encourage all interested parties to check out the trivia citations for this day of the Lord -- October 19th, 2023 -- as there are a good handful of trivia nuggets in there. One of my favorite genre actors -- Roger Cross -- turns a year older and wiser, as does famed storyteller, actor, and director Jon Favreau. (You still disappointed me in not defending Gina Carano, Jon!) Of course, there's more -- a lot more -- and I'm even scanning the Archives for a few new possible additions. I might get them up today ... or I might call it quits to work on some Halloween decor. I really do need to get going on that. My yard is usually quite legendary, if I do say so myself.
Haha!
As my own public service announcement, I just posted my review of 1972's Horrorific spectral yarn -- Tombs Of The Blind Dead -- right here, and I encourage interested folks to both check it out and maybe even consider picking up a copy. EuroHorror isn't for everyone, I realize, but this one is quite adept in creating a wonderful atmosphere for the cast and crew to exploit in bringing things that go bump in the night to cinematic life. I've read that the film did fuel a bit of a resurgence in popularity in Spanish Horror -- I'll admit to not seeing a great many entries in that field -- so it certainly did something right. It all gets a bit loose in the big finish for my tastes -- when storytellers can't quite close the deal because they want to leave things undone for sequels and the like, I tend to get cold feet -- but it's still an interesting diversion. And this is the month of true Horror, after all, what with Halloween lurking right around the corner.
That reminds me: I've got to get my Halloween decorations up soon.
Egad. Is my work never done?!
In any event, I'm here to encourage all interested parties to check out the trivia citations for this day of the Lord -- October 19th, 2023 -- as there are a good handful of trivia nuggets in there. One of my favorite genre actors -- Roger Cross -- turns a year older and wiser, as does famed storyteller, actor, and director Jon Favreau. (You still disappointed me in not defending Gina Carano, Jon!) Of course, there's more -- a lot more -- and I'm even scanning the Archives for a few new possible additions. I might get them up today ... or I might call it quits to work on some Halloween decor. I really do need to get going on that. My yard is usually quite legendary, if I do say so myself.
As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ
- Published on
From time-to-time, I do remind faithful readers that one need not be a Hollywood heavyweight to garner the attention of those of us who toil away daily in championing All Things Genre. In fact, all it really takes in a single solid turnout, and voila! You get a citation. At least, that's how things work on SciFiHistory.Net so long as I'm calling the shots.
So -- yes -- Burt Young is far more well known for his work in the wide, wide Rocky universe of films. His heartfelt turn as Rocky's best friend and brother-in-law 'Paulie' in the boxing saga is a justly celebrated work from the actor, and I'll always encourage folks to check out that Sylvester Stallone headlined work as it's arguably still one of my personal favorites. Young was around for the fights and whatnot all the way until 2006's Rocky Balboa, and he'll likely always be remembered for sticking in Rocky's corner through thick and thin.
As for genre appearances?
There are a few, and I'll always give them the attention they're owed in this space as time permits.
Some consider 1977's Twilight's Last Gleaming a Science Fiction entry. This highly-regarded Cold War thriller postulates a kinda/sorta World War III scenario, but I've always looked on it more as a political film than anything true genre specific. Granted it was set slightly in the future (shot in 1977, it takes place in 1981), so I suppose there's some small merit to its consideration, and Young enjoyed a secondary role in it ... so there, purists.
1980's Blood Beach -- a true SciFi/Horror hybrid -- came from the mind of writer/director Jeffrey Bloom; and it essentially tried to take a bit of commercial advantage to the still lingering scare of audiences to go back to the beach (thanks, Jaws, for that trend). If I remeber this one correctly, I believe Young played a police detective or something tasked with investigating some of the dark events of a subterranean terror.
In 1982, Young showed up prominently in the cast of Amityville II: The Possession, a sequel to 1979's box office success story that the true-life-story-inspired The Amityville Horror brought into being. I couldn't say anything about this one as I've never seen it. But kudos on Young for braving things that go bump in the night.
Also along the way, the actor scored visits to such entries as HBO's Tales From The Crypt serial, the 1990's incarnation of The Outer Limits, and the 2002 SciFi/Comedy The Adventures Of Pluto Nash headlined by funnyman Eddie Murphy.
Our warmest thoughts and prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Burt Young.
May he forever rest in peace.
-- EZ
So -- yes -- Burt Young is far more well known for his work in the wide, wide Rocky universe of films. His heartfelt turn as Rocky's best friend and brother-in-law 'Paulie' in the boxing saga is a justly celebrated work from the actor, and I'll always encourage folks to check out that Sylvester Stallone headlined work as it's arguably still one of my personal favorites. Young was around for the fights and whatnot all the way until 2006's Rocky Balboa, and he'll likely always be remembered for sticking in Rocky's corner through thick and thin.
As for genre appearances?
There are a few, and I'll always give them the attention they're owed in this space as time permits.
Some consider 1977's Twilight's Last Gleaming a Science Fiction entry. This highly-regarded Cold War thriller postulates a kinda/sorta World War III scenario, but I've always looked on it more as a political film than anything true genre specific. Granted it was set slightly in the future (shot in 1977, it takes place in 1981), so I suppose there's some small merit to its consideration, and Young enjoyed a secondary role in it ... so there, purists.
1980's Blood Beach -- a true SciFi/Horror hybrid -- came from the mind of writer/director Jeffrey Bloom; and it essentially tried to take a bit of commercial advantage to the still lingering scare of audiences to go back to the beach (thanks, Jaws, for that trend). If I remeber this one correctly, I believe Young played a police detective or something tasked with investigating some of the dark events of a subterranean terror.
In 1982, Young showed up prominently in the cast of Amityville II: The Possession, a sequel to 1979's box office success story that the true-life-story-inspired The Amityville Horror brought into being. I couldn't say anything about this one as I've never seen it. But kudos on Young for braving things that go bump in the night.
Also along the way, the actor scored visits to such entries as HBO's Tales From The Crypt serial, the 1990's incarnation of The Outer Limits, and the 2002 SciFi/Comedy The Adventures Of Pluto Nash headlined by funnyman Eddie Murphy.
Our warmest thoughts and prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Burt Young.
May he forever rest in peace.
-- EZ
- Published on
Folks, I've said many times before that one of the coolest things about having friends inside the Media/Entertainmentn Industrial Complex is getting a bit of advanced notice to projects coming down the pike -- as they say -- and that's the case this morning as I was just treated to the announcement of the forthcoming Zombie/Comedy As We Know It from Buffalo 8 Productions. According to some of the information I've found online (as of this morning), this one is getting a limited theatrical run in the United States starting on November 24th but it will be screening earlier in select cities across the fruited plains.
Written (in part) and directed by Josh Monkarsh, the cast includes such luminaries as Taylor Blackwell, Mike Castle, Oliver Cooper, Pam Grier, and Chris Parnell. According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"In the late '90s, James Bishop is dealing with a complicated breakup with the help of his best friend, while trying to finish his book before the impending zombie apocalypse."
It's also worth pointing out that -- per the advertising materials I've been provided -- As We Know It has become a bit of a sensation on the film festival circuit, one of Tinseltown's best means to gauge the potential success of a film's resonance with viewers. Let's hope that our cultural betters can tell a good Apocalypse from a bad one as this one's trailer does look quite funny.
Details will be copied and pasted below.
Written (in part) and directed by Josh Monkarsh, the cast includes such luminaries as Taylor Blackwell, Mike Castle, Oliver Cooper, Pam Grier, and Chris Parnell. According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:
"In the late '90s, James Bishop is dealing with a complicated breakup with the help of his best friend, while trying to finish his book before the impending zombie apocalypse."
It's also worth pointing out that -- per the advertising materials I've been provided -- As We Know It has become a bit of a sensation on the film festival circuit, one of Tinseltown's best means to gauge the potential success of a film's resonance with viewers. Let's hope that our cultural betters can tell a good Apocalypse from a bad one as this one's trailer does look quite funny.
Details will be copied and pasted below.
SCREENING IN U.S. THEATERS
November 10, 2023
New York City, Chicago, Seattle
November 15, 2023
Los Angeles
November 17, 2023
Boston
When a zombie outbreak occurs, a group of friends must try to reconcile their relationships and enjoy what little time they have left… before the end of the world.
November 10, 2023
New York City, Chicago, Seattle
November 15, 2023
Los Angeles
November 17, 2023
Boston
When a zombie outbreak occurs, a group of friends must try to reconcile their relationships and enjoy what little time they have left… before the end of the world.
Set in Los Angeles in the late 1990s, struggling writer James Bishop grapples with the emotional shrapnel of a recent breakup with his longtime girlfriend, Emily. As James holds up in his Hollywood Hills home with writer's block, his eccentric best friend Bruce shows up with bad news. The city has plunged into chaos by an unusual zombie outbreak, courtesy of tainted soy milk, wreaking havoc on James' semi-charmed kinda life.
With the streets of Los Angeles swarming with the undead, James, Bruce, and Emily come together to barricade themselves in the house while reconciling their personal struggles. And occasionally, letting in the only food delivery service still operating, Abracadabra.
Bringing together elements of romance, friendship, and the absurdity of survival, AS WE KNOW IT is a rollercoaster of laughs and unexpected twists. With the fate of humanity hanging in the balance, our trio must confront their own demons, rekindle lost love, and, of course, avoid being turned into the living dead. Packed with witty dialogue, nostalgic nods to the '90s, and a unique blend of comedy and horror, AS WE KNOW IT is a riotous ride that proves even in the face of an apocalypse, there's always room for love and laughter.
AS WE KNOW IT is co-written and directed by Josh Monkarsh. Co-written by Brandon DePaolo and Christopher Francis. Produced by Monkarsh and Daniel Cummings, and Co-produced by K. Asher Levin and Joshua Fruehling. Cinematography by Stephen St. Peter. Composed by Michl Britsch. A Traffic City Productions film.
With the streets of Los Angeles swarming with the undead, James, Bruce, and Emily come together to barricade themselves in the house while reconciling their personal struggles. And occasionally, letting in the only food delivery service still operating, Abracadabra.
Bringing together elements of romance, friendship, and the absurdity of survival, AS WE KNOW IT is a rollercoaster of laughs and unexpected twists. With the fate of humanity hanging in the balance, our trio must confront their own demons, rekindle lost love, and, of course, avoid being turned into the living dead. Packed with witty dialogue, nostalgic nods to the '90s, and a unique blend of comedy and horror, AS WE KNOW IT is a riotous ride that proves even in the face of an apocalypse, there's always room for love and laughter.
AS WE KNOW IT is co-written and directed by Josh Monkarsh. Co-written by Brandon DePaolo and Christopher Francis. Produced by Monkarsh and Daniel Cummings, and Co-produced by K. Asher Levin and Joshua Fruehling. Cinematography by Stephen St. Peter. Composed by Michl Britsch. A Traffic City Productions film.
- Published on
Well, well, well ... good afternoon, gentle readers, and welcome to Wednesday!
Might I extend to all of you my deepest, deepest apologies for not getting this daily announcement up earlier. I was up and puttering this morning, but I needed to get in my morning jog, and then I had to get ready to head out to school (it was my morning volunteering to coach one of the local speech teams), and then it all just slipped away from me until moments ago ... at which point I fully remembered that I hadn't put anything up already ... so shame on me!
In any event ...
I did manage to watch a few films yesterday, and I'm fully intent upon penning two new reviews for the Main Page. I'm also pondering some deep, deep thoughts as to what I made of The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon's first season. Frankly, I'm not sure I'll get up a review for that, but it's looking more favorable with each passing day. As I mentioned previously, I decided to forego individual episode reviews, and I'll stick by that: I just didn't see enough substantively to comment on with the separate installments, but I do think I have something to say about the full journey of the inaugural season. So watch this space tomorrow, as I don't think I'll finish any of these up today. Who knows? I've been wrong before ...
But what matters most is the Daily Citations, and I'm thrilled to share an incredible 61 different blurbs for your attention. Interested patrons can find them right here ...
Might I extend to all of you my deepest, deepest apologies for not getting this daily announcement up earlier. I was up and puttering this morning, but I needed to get in my morning jog, and then I had to get ready to head out to school (it was my morning volunteering to coach one of the local speech teams), and then it all just slipped away from me until moments ago ... at which point I fully remembered that I hadn't put anything up already ... so shame on me!
In any event ...
I did manage to watch a few films yesterday, and I'm fully intent upon penning two new reviews for the Main Page. I'm also pondering some deep, deep thoughts as to what I made of The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon's first season. Frankly, I'm not sure I'll get up a review for that, but it's looking more favorable with each passing day. As I mentioned previously, I decided to forego individual episode reviews, and I'll stick by that: I just didn't see enough substantively to comment on with the separate installments, but I do think I have something to say about the full journey of the inaugural season. So watch this space tomorrow, as I don't think I'll finish any of these up today. Who knows? I've been wrong before ...
But what matters most is the Daily Citations, and I'm thrilled to share an incredible 61 different blurbs for your attention. Interested patrons can find them right here ...
As always, thanks for reading ... thanks for sharing ... thanks for being a fan ... and live long and prosper!
-- EZ