So many movies ... so little time ...

On this day in 1975 (in the U.S.), the fertile imagination of the male mind were forever piqued when Lynda Carter suited up for the very first time for the broadcast television premiere of the Superhero telefilm, The New Original Wonder Woman.  Directed by Leonard J. Horn from a story by William Moulton Marston, Stanley Ralph Ross, and Harry G. Peter, the film starred Lynda Carter, Lyle Waggoner, John Randolph, and others. 

​According to our friends at IMDB.com, here's the plot summary:

"After a dogfight with a German plane, U.S. Army Air Force pilot Steve Trevor crash lands on an uncharted island in the Bermuda Triangle. Paradise Island is inhabited only by women, and their existence has been kept a secret for thousands of years. Learning of the Nazi German threat to humanity, the Amazon princess Diana is chosen to accompany Trevor back to the United States to battle the Third Reich. Garbed in a skimpy red, white, and blue costume and armed with a magic lasso that forces anyone within its grasp to tell the truth, Diana uses her powers as Wonder Woman to battle the forces of evil."

-- EZ
​

Happy Friday, gentle readers!  Looks like we made it to the end of another work week!

In any event ...

I've been scrolling through the World Wide Web this morning looking for some content to add to this space, and I just stumbled across a trailer for the December release of Afraid? (2025) from Skydirects Flix.  While I'm not seeing a great deal of information available regarding its production or whatnot -- looks like it was made under the name of What Are You Afraid Of? -- I'm always willing to keep my eyes open for press releases and the like from other outlets.  In the meantime, let me pony up what I have found and host the coming attraction below for your entertainment.

Here's the plot summary as provided by our friends at IMDB.com:

"A group of 5 daring high school teenagers takes a weekend trip to the woods during Halloween. What starts off as a thrilling adventure quickly turns deadly."

Also according to the popular movie website, the cast includes such names and faces as P.T. Ashlock, Kendre Berry, Nakosha Briggs, Lil' Fizz, Teairra Mari, Rezia Thornton, and others.

Alas ... that's really about it.  Not seeing anything else of substance to pass along at this time, so the trailer will be below.  You know what to do about that.

-- EZ
​

(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:
“After an accident and a major transformation, an adult film star seeks revenge for all the abuse she suffered.”
 
It’s often been said that – in life and the universe – there are good ideas and there are bad ideas.
 
What grows increasingly complicated when you’re dealing with inserting ideas into storytelling is that context not only is key but also will always be the key.  Against the backdrop of characters, locations, and circumstances, the storyteller needs to be exactly certain of what he (or she) wants to say as well as putting extreme effort into guaranteeing that the ‘moral of the story’ is as accessible as it can be.  If that central precept isn’t made clear by the light of the projection lamp, then one can be assured that the message will likely wind up sacrificed because of less important decisions made somewhere along the way.  Viewers might even be confused by impressions that don’t appear in sync, and – must I say it? – methinks that’s what’s happened with the otherwise interesting parable at the heart of Mar.ia (2024).
 
Smarter people than I am have long said that the 1980’s – what with the worldwide video explosion taking place at the time – truly invented the solid B-Movie; and I’ve often argued that – if that is true – then it was the 1990’s that truly added a layer of glitz and gloss to the genre.  Cable channels and smaller studios were granted access to effects wizardry that was quickly growing more affordable by the year; and this advantage meant to more and more producers were capable of delivering unique visions to both the cineplexes and television outlets.  In many small ways, Mar.ia feels like it’s the product of that age – a dark and bloody tale broadcast after hours on pay cable that lacked the panache to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Hollywood heavyweights but, instead, was comfortable dialing up a bit of gore and sleaze in order to woo viewers over.  For the record: there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.
​

Tragically, the hot and sensuous porn sensation Maria Black (played by the comely Daria Panchenko) is (basically) killed in a car crash in California.  Not that long after her accident, her body goes missing, leaving friends and family aghast at how such a thing could happen in this time and place.  A few years later, however, a near-perfect lookalike surfaces working as – you guessed it – the hottest porn star of a somewhat new era, one wherein shooting such efforts has gone a bit underground.  When this new Maria collapses and seemingly dies again under curious circumstances during coitus, the producer and director are suddenly offered an unthinkable choice: offer up the temptress’ dead body for sex acts with a trio of masked strangers, and they’ll profit $100,00 for the deed as well as film the necrophilia for release (and profit) via the Dark Web.
 
Well, when one gets in bed with such mobsters (snicker snicker), bad things are bound to transpire.  The boss Varela (Juan Palomino) is actually being sought by authorities in a sting operation being run by … well … that’s a bit unclear in all of this.  Wanting to insure his privacy, Varela shoots the film crew dead; but, unbeknownst to him, two technicians – Mel (Sofía Gala Castiglione) and Alina (Malena Sánchez) have been bound, gagged, and locked away in the warehouse for their refusal to allow the director to go along with such a vile request.  Before the night is over, these two women will find themselves paired up with an unlikely ally – the cybernetically reanimated form of Maria who rises from the dead again – in a bid to bring down this nefarious patriarchy once and for all!
 
So … it’s Die Hard.  In a warehouse.  With porn stars.  And a robotic dominatrix.  Along with sound technicians.
 
As you can see, there’s a lot to unpack with Mar.ia; and, frankly, there isn’t a lot of it that harmonizes.  The writing and directing team of Gabriel Grieco and Nicanor Loreti clearly are trying to say something about the greater nature of mankind here, but far too much of it gets buried alive under neon lights, gender politics, over-the-top sound cues, and exploitation.  When one is trying to expose the harm to the fairer sex that takes place in the hidden corners of the world, is that treatise best delivered salaciously?  Everything about Mar.ia – from our sex worker set-up where she’s clearly living her best life (before her multiple deaths) to her Terminator-style killing spree – is presented with the pomp and circumstance of extravagant exaggeration, so much so that it’s hard not to see some of this as unintentional high camp.  Complicating matters, the directors choose to employ some bizarre technological trickery – whenever Mar.ia (the killer robot) kicks into high gear, they adorn the screen with almost anime-like cybernetic inserts – and the whole effect feels more comic than stridently serious.
​

Additively, there are sequences in the film wherein two characters separated suddenly appear back together without the filler of showing them catch up with one another.  Mainly, this occurs in the second half when the forces of evil are hunting down the female technicians fleeing for their lives; and – as continuity errors go – some might see them as negligible, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that they’re still there.  Also, Mel and Alina – only shown previously as being loosely at odds with each other before teaming up – are suddenly exposed as … erm … lesbians in a somewhat former relationship, a development that had no underpinning so far as I could tell whatsoever.  (They clearly knew one another, but the fact that they apparently may’ve been coupled previously – in some relationship – escaped me entirely.)
 
Furthermore, the script gives no logical reason why Mar.ia – the nimble sexbot – died on the conjugal bed during her video shoot.  In fact, she was presented entirely as the picture of perfect health, and she’s depicted as rather aggressively enjoying everything that’s taking place.  It’s only after climbing atop her willing partner that she develops a nosebleed and simply keels over, perhaps giving the slight suggestion of having suffered some cerebral event.  Later in the film, Grieco and Loreti loosely incorporate the suggestion that her faked death was part and parcel of some larger scheme to lure Varela and his goons to expose them for their necromania, hinting that such a lifestyle choice is a vastly greater problem in some countries than I personally would choose to accept.
 
To their credit, the storytellers bury the most obvious evidence of their political intent in a long after-the-credits sequence: a pair of nurses working on the automaton incarnation of the porn star are shown on screen with a digital overlay showing the mechanical woman’s programming.  (This is a direct visual nod to the scene from 1987’s RoboCop wherein the deceased Alex Murphy awakens, and the perspective is rendered as if through robot eyes.)  The newfangled Maria has been created to:

• Directive 1: Protect Women’s Lives.
• Directive 2: Protect Women’s Civil Rights.
• Directive 3: Gather Information To Assure A Better Future For The Feminine Gender.
• Directive 4: Classified.”

​

Undoubtedly, this implies that women – in this universe – are subject to some despicable injustices; and I’m certain that this viewpoint serves as the foundation for all of what services as a story herein.  Where I take issue with it is the fact that – were this fully the case – then why was Maria of the film’s opening living life to the fullest?  She wasn’t in any pain.  She certainly wasn’t in any despair.  Are they trying to say that her death – shown entirely as an accident – was a necessary part in her coming to ‘see the light,’ that the patriarchy was an instrument of evil?  She was reaping untold rewards, and – for all I know – went into the business willingly – so why are men to blame?  Because they’re the consumers?  Or is it because they’re always the first ones – rather easily – blamed for the state of global affairs?
 
I hate playing the odd man out here, but Mar.ia – as a completed whole – suffers precisely because of the gaps left in place by Grieco and Loreti … both men last I looked.  Yes, their film is an occasionally entertaining bit of B-Movie schlock.  Yes, it can be gratuitous with cheap thrills and only infrequent but tasteful flashes of skin.  But when it comes to preaching about the ills of the world?  Well, perhaps that may ultimately be handled better being left to the females in the industry.  An otherwise paper-thin story with this many flaws and some narrative inconsistencies might, at best, get them laid in certain circles, but I don’t think it’s really going to convince many members of the patriarchy to change their ways.  No insult intended.
 
Now – in fairness – I want to admit that some of my confusion could very well be the result of being a bit ‘lost in translation.’  This Spanish-language import shot in Argentina is a dubbed cut; and the Blu-ray provides no closed captioning.  While there isn’t exactly a mountain of dialogue in here, what remains is rather lazily dubbed, so much so that I’ll admit to watching the film’s opening set-up twice: it’s a black-and-white sequence that’s somewhat choppily rendered, and it feels very much like some reason for its existence is missing.  (I find close captioning generally better fills in these holes.)  Suffice it to say, even after a second view I still wasn’t entirely certain what the takeaway here was intending; sadly, it really doesn’t grow any clearer once a few clues are dropped later in the flick.  I needed a bit more; and, yes, this could be one reason why Mar.ia left me underwhelmed.
​

Mar.ia (2024) was produced by Camauer, Crep Films, and Lahaye Media.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Leomark and Black Mandala.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure readers that the provided sights and sounds are, mostly, good: as I said above, I’m not a fan of forced visual trickery effects and clumsy dubbing, but … sigh … it is what it is.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  Disappointingly, the disc is empty of anything, including even a Main Menu.  Talk about your bargain basement!
 
Mildly Recommended.
 
Despite a litany of narrative problems, Mar.ia (2024) occasionally delivers a few respectable moments.  However, doesn’t packaging a ‘message movie’ beneath the slick veneer of genre exploitation make the storytellers arguably as guilty here as the world they’re trying to condemn?  While I’m not opposed to didactic mythmaking, I’m at a loss to understand precisely what lesson Grieco and Loreti wish to take away from their fictional exposé: (1) treat women better or (2) don’t smash a robot?  Those two morals aren’t exactly mutually exclusive, and their yarn could’ve been more fulfilling if it had greater context.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Allied Vaughn provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Mar.ia (2024) 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
​

Editor's Note:
​
Folks, I've told the story before, so please bear with me for new readers.  Having written reviews for products for well into three decades, I maintain a mountain of material, much of which was used back in the day when I was an Amazon Top 1,000 Reviewer.  Now, these were composed under an entirely different format, meaning that they're not nearly as in-depth compared to what I do today ... and, yet, I hate to see these lost to history entirely.  As such, when I have a few free moments I pull one out, dust it off a bit, and reframe it for use here on SciFiHistory.Net.  Such is the case here with my reflections on Ghost Of Goodnight Lane ... enjoy ...

​I get slagged a lot for either being too easy on films or too picky – which, at the end of the day, can only really mean that there’s no way to please all readers. 
 
In fact, I’ve often spent more time with smaller releases – exactly the kind of film that Ghost Of Goodnight Lane (2014) both is and tries to be – because they’re an affordable and reasonable alternative to the latest bloated-budget craptacular spectacle available for your viewing pleasure (or displeasure) at the multiplexes or your preferred streaming platform.  Now, Ghost isn’t perfect – far from it – and here’s the dirty little secret few will tell you: it probably was never meant to be. 
 
You want a little mindless escape for 90 minutes?
 
Then it’s right up your alley.
 
(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 my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
​

From the product packaging:
“In a Dallas film studio the actors and crew of a horror film become the victims of their own bloody horror story.  One by one, they are killed off by a vengeful ghost who seems to be re-enacting some of the scariest moments in the history of film.  As the director (Billy Zane) and his pretty actresses begin to piece together a forty-year-old puzzle, it may be too late for them all.  The key to their freedom is held by a creepy old woman who reveals a murder mystery with a shocking and sinister twist.”
 
The straight dope is that so very much of Ghost Of Goodnight Lane is handled exactly the way it should be for its intended audiences: everything in it is very tongue-in-cheek camp. 
 
The story as detailed above pokes an awful lot of fun at the conventions of mainstream horror movies, and writer/director Alin Bijan imbues about fifty percent of it with what I’d call an almost ‘Scooby Doo’ vibe.  Nothing – or very little of it – is intended to make literal sense.  It’s a bit goofy.  It’s a bit silly.  It isn’t meant to be taken seriously.  After all, half the fun charged to your average horror flick is just you watching, sitting patiently in wait for the most likely suspects to become the next victim – and (most definitely) none of it is meant to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with, say, 1942’s Casablanca.  This is the world of ghosts and demons and old crones and creepy children and other things that go bump in the night.  What you think is Billy Zane’s tired expression for agreeing to star in yet one more direct-to-DVD release is actually Billy Zane – the actor -- acting like a disenfranchised direct-to-DVD film producer/director who’s about at the end of his wits with the (God)damn entertainment business.  There’s a difference, you know?
 
To my delight, Ghost was moderately enjoyable.  If you’re paying attention, the script is smart enough to poke holes in half of the ideas it toys with visually; but – out of quintessential respect for the genre – it still manages to serve up more than a fair share of good old-fashioned scares alongside some obvious post-production camera trickery.  For example, watch for Zane to misinterpret a video snippet of the young ghost when he cracks, “Is that CGI? I didn’t authorize that!”
 
The rest of the cast is rounded out by a roster of familiar faces, all who’ve made marks in smaller projects (like that that this film represents).  Each turns up, delivers the lines, and (I suspect) had a little fun over a weekend gig.  Matt Dallas (TV’s Kyle XY, 2018’s Along Came The Devil) tries to be the calming force behind so much of the chaos.  Scream queen Danielle Harris (the Hatchet franchise, 2007’s Halloween, and a great many other chillers) is the good-girl-gone-bad only so far as it makes her capable of paying the rent.  Richard Tyson (1987’s underrated Three O’Clock High, 2000’s Battlefield Earth) shows up in the opening segment in a bit meant to set this small affair in motion.  And the lovely Lacey Chabert (1998’s Lost In Space and a whole slew of Hallmark movies) – a young lady who only grows more and more fetching with each opportunity – is the good-girl-who-stays-good who is also hell bent on uncovering the mystery behind all of this and bring this Ghost’s glory days to a fitting and timely end.
​

But … will you remember it next week to recommend to your friends?
 
Survey says, “Not likely.”
 
Ghost Of Goodnight Lane (2014) was produced by FTG Media, Media World Studios, and Media World Television.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by Inception Media Group.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert … this is still one smartly assembled piece of work.  The producers spared no expense in serving up some high-quality sights and sounds, as well as some modestly impressive digital and in-camera horror effects work.  Lastly – if it’s special features you’re looking for – then prepare to be disappointed as there’s nothing extra.
 
Mildly Recommended. 
 
Sometimes the only way to endorse a movie these days is to offer the simplest explanation possible: (A) it didn’t suck, and (B) it actually kept my interest.  There’s nothing wrong with such quality craftsmanship with smaller releases like Ghost Of Goodnight Lane; and that’s precisely why you’re drawn to them when you find them.  You give ‘em a chance to ‘wow’ you for 90 minutes, and they either work or not.  Trust me when I caution that you could do far worse.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Inception Media Group provided me with a DVD copy of Ghost Of Goodnight Lane 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
​

Regular readers of SciFiHistory.Net know of my fondness for independent films.
 
Rather than delve into any great essay about why I tend to gravitate toward these smaller, quieter, gentler films, let me offer up only a few reasons.  First, they’re often times much more obvious efforts of love on the part of those involved: like it or not, you can tell when a picture has been assembled by those who’ve enjoyed time spent together.  Second, there’s usually a freshness to the ideas; and this doesn’t mean the story is necessarily brand-new but – at the same time – these films minimally offer an alternative, less-expansive take on subjects that perhaps we’ve seen elsewhere.  Lastly, as someone who watches more films in the average year than the next person can shake a stick at, I’d rather wear out my shoes walking miles with projects and people who don’t get near as much exposure as major studios push because – quite frankly – I’m disappointed with most of what survives as ‘mainstream entertainment’ these days.  If this is all Hollywood can do, then … well … I’ll happily look elsewhere … and I think the struggles of the American box office alone suggests that’s become a shared reality.
 
This is why I’m glad to spend time with The Strange Dark (2024). 
 
It’s a clever yarn deserving of its title; and – from what I’ve read online – has been garnering some positive praise from screenings on the film festival circuit.  Written and directed by Chris Messineo – himself and owner, director, and educator of the NJ Film School – Dark is kind of story that gets told so well in a certain format that its characters and events become inseparable in such a way it becomes impossible to imagine it as a web being spun in any other fashion.  (Trust me: I’ll explain below.)  It stars Nili Bassman, Caleb Scott, Carmen Borla, Bates Wilder, John Beckwith, Carson Jean Holly, and Athan Sporek in roles they uniquely make their own, all coming together in a plot that suggests the secrets to understanding the future might lie in the stars right over our heads.
​

(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:
“Edgar believes he can see the future, but his wife thinks he's mad, his daughter thinks he's strange, and the agents from double star accounting will stop at nothing to get their data back.”
 
Storytelling works best when it’s done economically.
 
Back in my college days, I had a professor in a film class who explained this by suggesting that only those elements absolutely needed to tell the story completely need be kept in any shooting script.  Anything extraneous – whether it was good, bad, or ugly – had to go as it ultimately gets in the way of the tale being told.  Writers – like any artist – can get attached to their words, making it difficult to trim some eloquently composed speeches even if they’re only partially referential.  As one can imagine, this is a hard lesson to learn – a bitter pill to swallow – and probably accounts for a great deal of controversy in the editing suite where a passionate narrator wants to preserve what he or she feels might be the best work.
 
Clearly, writer/director Messineo knows this fundamental guideline as his latest – The Strange Dark – percolates on such an economy.  While I can say that there were a few of those moments wherein I questioned the purpose of a scene or even a snippet of dialogue, the film justifies everything in here in its own due course.  Some viewers will have to be patient as Dark unfolds in a non-linear format, a construct largely made famous (or, at least, mainstream) by Quentin Tarantino with his groundbreaking Pulp Fiction (1994) but expanded upon by other directors in such features as Memento (2000), Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind (2004), or even Weapons (2025).  In other words, what you might question in, say, Part I has a necessary payoff in Part III.  So … be patient.  All will be revealed.  But truth – like good fiction – takes time.
​

Two ominious Men In Black (my term, not Messineo’s) – Maria (played by Carmen Borla) and Frank (Bates Wilder) – show up unannounced one evening at your typical suburban home.  At the front door, they announce themselves as employees of Double Star Accounting and their intention to locate a missing employee, Edgar (Caleb Scott).  Susan (Nili Bassman) explains that she and Eddie have separated; but before you know it our corporate bounty hunters are inside, initially playing nice but growing increasingly frustrated with the woman’s refusal to answer their questions.  As they begin to threaten her health and safety – as well as that of her child Taylor (Carson Jean Holley) – Edgar reveals himself … but the twists and turns of only one busy evening have only just begun.
 
As appreciating a great many genre potboilers requires little to no foreknowledge of surprises, I won’t spoil anything major in this space.  Suffice it to say, Double Star Accounting isn’t exactly an accounting firm – not the kind regular folks would be familiar with anyway – and Edgar isn’t exactly working solely with numbers.  It would seem that he’s an experienced specialist at cracking numeric codes; and he’s discovered that the secret to prognosticating one’s future lies in the ability to interpret phosphenes – those curious flashes of light each of sees when applying pressure to closed eyes – alongside some ‘movie science’ math involving starlight.  The point is that he’s broken a code so strongly that everyone around him thinks he’s lost his mind; and it’s this intersection that supplies most of the intrigue, comedy, and drama for what evolves as a single-location storyline.
 
The importance to making an ensemble work is in casting the right talent to fill each identity; and, mostly, that’s Dark’s greatest strength.
 
Though Scott is a bit light on the mania required to fully sell what’s suggested as a kinda/sorta mental breakdown (or mental lapse, one significant enough to crumble his dynamic), he’s entirely affable as the Average Joe – part brainiac – who has stumbled into a life-altering discovery.  Of course, it helps that Bassman – as the wife who still loves him in spite of their marital woes – is that ‘strong woman behind every man,’ and the two make for an entirely credible pairing with maybe even a bit of chemistry to spare.  When he’s weak, she’s strong – and vice versa – so their match-up grounds everything that transpires herein.  Holley – as their only child – is given a limited handful of tasks to accomplish here; and yet she, too, comes off looking, sounding, and behaving entirely like the product of her good-intentioned parents with the typical wild streak as it applies to youthful indiscretion.
​

On the other side of the coin, our screen villains are also evenly matched.  Borla suffers a bit as the evil lead mostly because she’s only shown as the kind of mover and shaker who gives orders: for me, Messineo’s script lacks a scene convincing of the reputation she’s apparently earned around the office.  (Barking commands is one thing: a willingness to get one’s hands authentically dirty is another.  She does 'pony up' in the last reel, but it felt a little too little a little too late for me.)  Beckwith – as curiously named ‘The Kid’ – winds up being a bit more comic relief than anything else: his purpose is largely to establish there’s more to Double Star’s hierarchy than what meets the eye, and – while nice – it really never resonates beyond a bit of narrative convention.  Wilder’s Frank – an obvious corporate goon trying very hard to hide what beats as a heart of gold – steals scenes in small, funny ways that feel so authentic one wonders if they weren’t ad-libbed.  If not, no worries … because comedy works best when you don’t see it coming.
 
Now, there’s a curious development late in the picture – a vignette involving Taylor’s boyfriend escaping on foot – that momentarily hijacks what otherwise was smooth sailing.  Though none of what occurred outside the home between the fleeing youth and Frank is shown, there’s a strong hint that our enforcer’s explanation of how the kid got away wasn’t exactly the truth and nothing but the truth; or, maybe, all of that is speculation on my part.  The way the rest of Dark works, I sensed that Frank’s account was going to turn out to be manufactured, and we – the audience – would be shown what truly went down in another sequence.  That doesn’t happen, and I’ll simply leave it at that, always skeptical over just how our lovable heavy actually tore that hole in his pants.
 
It's often been said that the beauty of knowing whether or not viewers connected with a specific story’s characters is whether or not the film ends with the audience acknowledging a desire to spend more time with them; and I’m happy to say that’s the case here.  The ensemble clicks.  The story is smart – or smart enough – and the non-linear format works so well that I think it’d be improbable for all of this to function this effectively in any other manner.  In fact, this suburban trio’s story about bridging time and space is really just beginning.  I’m not sure the magic could necessarily be recaptured in the further adventures Edgar, Susan, and Taylor, but I suppose the temptation could be there if this first part gets the attention it deserves.
​

The Strange Dark (2024) was produced by Anthony Pettine and Chris Messineo.  A quick search of Google.com shows that the project is tentatively scheduled for release for streaming on Plex, Netflix, Amazon Prime, and Fandango this forthcoming December 5th.  (Additionally, there are plans for a forthcoming Blu-ray/DVD which I'm told will contain a commentary track, a making-of documentary, and bloopers.)  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure readers that the provided sights-and-sounds are top notch, especially in the world of independent productions.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  As I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
 
Strongly Recommended.
 
Without a doubt, I think the single greatest reason to take in a nifty little flick like The Strange Dark (2024) is because – without obvious designs or weighty pretentions – it shows audiences exactly what’s possible with not only Science Fiction and Fantasy attempted on a small scale but also serves as a textbook example of what’s possible with a solid independent effort.  Small in scale but big in stagecraft, the story and its characters deliver expertly on what’s expected here, never reaching for anything greater than the sum of what’s achievable and feasible at this level.  (Trust me: I’ve seen a great many indie films destroyed by trying to live beyond their means, and –thankfully – that isn’t the case here.)  My only complaint – I reserve the right to always have one – is that it ends with my wanting to spend more time with these players … even the villains … and that rarely happens in my corner of the webosphere.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that writer/director Chris Messineo provided me with complimentary streaming access to The Strange Dark (2024) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review.  His contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

-- EZ
​

Putting together even just a single episode for any television program takes a great degree of dedication.

It's been said that there are a great many balls that must be juggled.  From screenwriters to props and costumes along with make-up and set dressing, everything needs a bit of attention in order for the pieces to come together.  Its in this capacity that a director -- of course, along with a great producer -- attempts to fill every hole possible.  He or she takes as much control of the endeavor as is necessary to direct the people to keep an eye on their respective jobs while he (or she) does what's required to bring it all to fruition.

Many of these folks -- especially in the world of episodic television -- go unnoticed, but I've been told by many that they're the unsung heroes of a great many franchises we celebrate ... and Ralph Senensky was just such a man.  Across his years in the entertainment business, he helped bring to life installments for such enterprises as The Twilight Zone, The Wild Wild West, Mission: Impossible, Star Trek, I Spy, Night Gallery, Search, Planet Of The Apes, and countless other adventures in mainstream fare that doesn't get covered on SciFiHistory.Net.  While Trek wasn't his only domain in Science Fiction and Fantasy, it speaks volumes that the guy directed an incredible seven episodes for the beloved classic series.

Alas ... none of us lasts forever ... and word reached the World Wide Web this morning regarding the man's passing.

Our warmest prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Mr. Senensky.

May he rest in peace.

-- EZ

Folks, word reached the World Wide Web today regarding the passing of actress Diane Ladd.

As I often mention, a great many of these talents aren't exactly well known for their appearances in the world of genre entertainment ... well, the kind of genre stuff that I focus on almost exclusively on SciFiHistory.Net.  Still, I feel a duty to post an In Memoriam and pass along a few highlights that we may know something about, often time even encouraging readers to go and out and explore some of these quirky and overlooked yarns.

As I mention in my post on her birthday, I do recall watching 1993's Carnosaur.  If I remember correctly, I believe this was someone attached to Roger Corman; and it's rushed production and release was intended to capitalize on another dino-themed thriller that swept through the cineplexes that year, namely Steven Spielberg's Jurassic Park.  Without anything remotely near the same budget much less the groundbreaking original story (by Michael Crichton, no less), Carnosaur was one of those flicks that -- if it had a theatrical run -- came and went, essentially created to be dumped onto home video.  While I do remember watching it, I don't recall Ladd's work in the film, a surprise especially given the fact that the picture highlighted on the corresponding Daily Citation Page for November 29th is a bit ... erm ... grisly?  One would think I'd at least remember that, but -- alas -- the mind is a fragile instrument, and I've chocked it full with far too many tidbits.

Other genre appearances include work aboard such projects as The Devil's Daughter (1973), Embryo (1976), Something Wicked This Way Comes (1983), Faerie Tale Theatre, Cold Lazarus (miniseries), and Touched By An Angel.

Our warmest prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Diane Ladd.

May she rest in peace.

​-- EZ

(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:
“When a nobleman is murdered, a professor of the occult blames vampires, but not all is what it seems.”
 
There are times, gentle readers, when I’m honestly mystified over how a specific film might benefit from such a great reputation.
 
Now – to be fair – we’ve all experienced this at one time or another.  We’ve all been the victims of word-of-mouth setting our expectations to a high bar only to be let down by our own impressions of a book, movie, or television show.  Sometimes, the disappointment can be minor; and yet there are those instances wherein we consciously wonder what it is our good friends, our family members, or even our favorite critics were watching compared to what we endured.  Did they see some alternate cut?  Were they privy to some insider information that dramatically restructures the narrative?  Whatever the case may be, we’re surprised to have been so easily convinced that what lie in wait would be a veritable classic of unimaginable proportions when – in reality – it’s simply more of the same … or – gasp! – even less.
 
That’s the case today as I’ll try to dissect 1935’s Mark Of The Vampire, a feature production showcasing the original bloodsucker himself – Bela Lugosi – in the guise of Count Mora, a dastardly predator who – along with his similarly-afflicted daughter Luna (Carroll Borland) – are believed to be responsible for several deaths in a tiny European village.  Not all of the actions revolves around this pair – Mark’s script is somewhat weighted down by several subplots and a time jump or two (depending upon one’s perception) – but as they’re clearly tied to the film’s foundation it’s fair to suggest that it’s their story (as monsters).  Also, neither have a great deal to say in here, but their shared shenanigans remain a focal point for much of the what transpires.  Sadly, neither get much character development – nor even an interesting backstory – and really only exist as traditional monsters up to a point (which is critical to understanding and interpreting the finale).
 
So …
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In the film’s beginning, Sir Karell Borotyn (Holmes Herbert) is found murdered with the usual two pinpricks of blood on his neck suggesting that he suffered his demise at the hands (and fangs!) of sanguivore.  As Fate would have it, these dastardly vampires then set their sights on the dead man’s daughter Irena (Elizabeth Allan) and eventually her fiancé Fedor Vincente (Henry Wadsworth), a development that has Police Inspector Neumann (Lionel Atwill) joining forces with Professor Zelen (Lionel Barrymore) to both save the young couple and expose these vampires for all of their nefarious wrongdoings.  However, Mark’s last-breaking ‘twist’ – which has to be disclosed in order to honestly critique this flick – has Zelen hypnotizing Sir Karell’s friend – Baron Otto von Zinden (Jean Hersholt) – to take the cast (and the audience by proxy) on a tour through the night that Borotyn died.  As it turns out, the vampires had nothing to do with it – in fact, they’re not vampires at all but local actors hired to play the part – and Baron Otto is exposed to a somewhat hammy plot about his love for Irena forcing him to kill her father who wouldn’t agree to their coupling.
 
Did you catch all of that?
 
So rather than be an authentic Horror film, Mark Of The Vampire – as scripted by Guy Endore and Bernard Schubert – is a ‘gotcha’ movie.  All of it is an elaborate ruse played out on the silver screen meant to coax a confession out of Baron Otto who – last I checked – was under the influence of hypnotism so I’m not even sure any of it would logically hold up in court.  But what makes the flick an utter failure – so far as these learned eyes are concerned – is that there are entire sequences played out that don’t even involved the Baron, meaning that functionally these vignettes didn’t even need to be performed!  To put it simply, if my job is to trick you – and only you – then I wouldn’t need any storyline wherein you weren’t present: these bits would be extraneous and entirely unnecessary to the purpose of my sting operation.  Such things happen in here – happen a great deal – and they defy narrative logic.
 
Director Tod Browning – certainly an accomplished name when it comes to genre entertainment – stages sequences that require special effects to bring not one but two vampires to life.  There’s one cycle involving a transformation into a bat, and there are other bits which serve to display the extent of their supernatural powers.  We – the audience, when even the guilty Baron is not around – are shown evidence to prove that these Dracula are real; yet – in the finale – the rug is pulled out from under us – again, not the Baron – when they’re shown to be little more than vaudeville performers.  As a consequence, the entire story falls apart, and I suspect a great many folks exit this one scratching their head as to how and why this curious failure ever got into production much less shown in theaters.
 
As sometimes happens, a bad film earns a good reputation; and Mark presently enjoys a mid-60’s rating (out of 100) on IMDB.com.  Even more befuddling (at least to me), it retains a mid-80’s score (also out of 100) on RottenTomatoes.com, a site which is supposed to be an aggregate measurement of recognized film critics.  All of that’s well and good – opinions vary, as they say – but beyond some good screen atmosphere and respectable cinematography, how can a tale that makes no coherent sense remain so revered?  This isn’t the kind of production that should benefit from such acclaim – not in these parts – and I’m confounded as to how so many embrace such disjointed storytelling.
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Lastly, I will say that there’s been a great deal of reporting as to the fact that a huge chunk of material was apparently censored by the studio, some of which I’ve read kinda/sorta explains a few characters and their motivations better.  (For example, Count Mora has a significant scar on his face; and its explanation was excised in order to remove a subplot executives who felt morally inappropriate.)  While that’s all well and good, I – as a critic – can only react to what’s provided in the existing cut: perhaps granting the finished film credit for things I didn’t see is the kind of tactic others think is acceptable.  I strongly disagree, and – as such – I think Mark Of The Vampire is a vastly inferior effort.
 
Mark Of The Vampire (1935) was produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at Warner Archive.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can still assure readers that the provided sights-and-sounds are all very good: yes, there’s the usual grain associated to pictures of the era, but there’s no glaring blemishes that distract in any meaningful way.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  The disc boasts an audio commentary that’s mildly informative and a few other items from the era.
 
Alas … this one is Hard To Recommend.
 
Look: if you’re a fan of vintage Horror, then you might get a few tickles out of 1935’s Mark Of The Vampire.  While even I’ll concede that it’s great to see Lugosi at his prime doing the kind of thing only he did so well, Mark just falls apart in that last reel, so much so that I found myself backtracking to scenes to see if I’d missed something.  When I realized I hadn’t – that the entire experience wasn’t so much a misdirection against one character so much as it was THE VIEWING AUDIENCE – I can to the conclusion that so much of it escaped reality … and I just can’t recommend that even though I’ll personally applaud the effort.  A big mess, if you ask me, and I have to leave it at that.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary copy of Mark Of The Vampire (1935) – as part of their Blu-ray set of Hollywood Legends Of Horror Collection – 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
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Today’s history lesson, gentle readers, involves the disappointing cultural reception – though perfectly well understood – of 1935’s Mad Love, one of the screen’s earliest attempts at Body Horror.
 
Directed by Karl Freund from a story based on the novel “The Hands Of Orlac” by Maurice Renard, Mad Love is a somewhat mildly convoluted tale of a kinda/sorta love triangle between three principles: rising theater star Yvonne Orlac, her concert pianist husband Stephen Orlac, and famed surgeon and philanthropist Dr. Gogol.  Essentially, these three characters collide in a dark tale of … well … let’s call it love and madness – hence, the film’s title – wherein even acts of professional charity prove yet again that no good deed goes unpunished.  Even though audiences probably knew full well going in that such emotional fixations between men and women can lead to tragic turns of Fate, the motion picture never quite developed a head of steam anywhere it was screened; but the truth is that the circumstances for its failure are a bit more complex.
 
America was in the midst of the Great Depression.  Experts suggest that this dark phase of American History was at its worst between 1932 and 1934; and that reality alone might lead one to conclude that tragedies probably were far from the top of the list for what viewers wanted to endure for at a night out at the movies, the place where they go seeking an escape from the trials of daily life.  Indeed, Horror movies in particular had shown a rather precipitous plunge in box office receipts; and studios, too, had fallen into a bit of fiscal disarray.  They had pushed this relatively new genre into overdrive based on earlier efforts’ popularity – i.e. Universal’s Dracula (1931), Frankenstein (1931), The Invisible Man (1933), etc. – but by 1936 even Universal Pictures was seized out from under its owners – the Laemmle family – over the studio’s inability to handle its debts.  Couple this downturn with the fact that the Hays Code – the industry’s self-imposed requirements to curb explorations of violence – went into 1934, storytellers were hard-pressed to develop Horror projects because … well … what good is a thriller/chiller devoid of even modest graphic ferocity?  These new rules favored psychological twists as opposed to sensational images; and such new constructs meant that the old stories wouldn’t quite work.
 
Additionally, foreign markets had grown increasingly skeptical of placing such American offerings into theatrical circulation.  These countries, too, were finding these stories increasingly void of morality and virtues; and, while not every nation completely shut down access to Horror films, the impact on the entertainment industry – i.e. lost ticket sales – was a significant loss of revenue.  Reel life collided with real life in ways no executive quite expected; and, as such, prospects for just about anything Horror or Horror-adjacent were sometimes as grim as these pictures’ subject matter.  While this global embargo wouldn’t last long, its effects were definitely felt for a few critical years … and it’s this timeframe – 1935 – in which Peter Lorre’s American debut occurred.
 
So … what’s an otherwise good scare to do? 
​

Mad Love pretty much disappeared as quickly as it emerged; and I’ve read that this disappearing act endured for – gasp! – several decades.  From what I understand, many credit the late movie critic Pauline Kael for its rediscovery: in her 1971 essay regarding the making of 1941’s Citizen Kane, she mentioned that that picture’s cinematographer – the much-praised Gregg Toland – had worked on Mad Love and, stylistically, the two films looked related.  Naturally, film scholars, academics, and cineastes took notice of Kael’s association; and this prompted them to seek out and explore a flick of which many of them had never heard.  Cult status was soon afforded Love; and this is largely how the picture is thought of today.
 
My two cents?
 
Yes, it deserves better.
 
(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:
“In Paris, a demented surgeon's obsession with a British actress leads him to secretly replace her concert-pianist husband's mangled hands with those of a guillotined murderer with a gift for knife-throwing.”
 
While it can be said that even the best films have some blemishes, I’ve often argued that some of the worst regarded projects might still show us something worthwhile.
 
Largely, that’s the case with Mad Love, a film that – like the little engine that could – is still fighting an uphill battle for mere respectability given the fact that it was mostly torched by everyone in its screen infancy.  The mid-1930’s are exactly revered for its Horror output; but Love suffered a great deal of criticisms more for when it was released – out of synch culturally, out of step with global interests in entertainment, etc. – than it rightly deserved.  Actor Peter Lorre delivers an interesting leading performance, but the script – attributed to P.J. Wolfson and John L. Balderston – also shifts gears a bit too quickly in his descent into madness.  Occasionally, the script feels so lost in transition that one might wonder if the screenwriters were commenting on their era more than they were the struggles of a brilliant yet flawed mind.  When you propose a situation with this much to unpack, every development needs a bit more extrapolation: when that doesn’t happen, it’s easy for viewers to get lost along the way.
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On the eve of her last show, actress Yvonne Orlac (played by Frances Drake) finds herself cornered by her biggest admirer: famed surgeon Dr. Gogol (Peter Lorre) admits to being the play’s biggest benefactor exclusively owed to his physical attraction to the woman.  Shocked to learn that she’s been secretly married to pianist Stephen (Colin Clive) for over a year, he suddenly feels that the lady has made the fool of him and his affections, reducing him in front of her castmates to the role of a cuckold.  After the show’s curtain call, the good doctor ravishes her with an unwanted, inappropriate kiss – a necessary reward for his investment to the troupe – and this moment demonstrates that – when it comes to Yvonne – he’s a broken psyche.
 
Later that evening, Steven is returning home from a concert via train only to find himself gravely wounded when it derails.  Frantic, Yvonne rushes to the scene with the police where she’s aghast to see that her beloved’s hands – the source of their livelihood – have been crushed in the accident.  At the hospital, the responding surgeon insists that they must be amputated; but Yvonne – knowing what a friend she has in Gogol – demands that her husband be transferred to his facility, believing that perhaps he has the genius sufficient to save Stephen’s hands.  Indeed, the doctor privately concocts a scheme wherein he’ll secretly replace these mangled appendages with those of a recently executed murderer – Rollo (Edward Brophy) – who was also aboard the ill-fated train. 
 
Under the influence of his broken mind, Gogol believes – albeit mistakenly – that his sparing Stephen such a consequential loss to his career will drive the grateful Yvonne out of that man’s arms into his, a development that never transpires.  When this doesn’t happen, the screws in the man’s fractured brain are thematically only twisted further; and he hatches an even darker scheme to brainwash the pianist into believing that his new hands are actually haunted by the influence of the murderous Rollo.  Since Stephen has suddenly developed a penchant for accurately throwing knives – the killer’s signature technique – the trip to Crazy Town isn’t as far-fetched as it would initially seem.
 
Suffice it to say, Love works on a fair degree of convolution.  Watchers have to suspend their disbelief over whether or not such a trait as knife throwing could be passed on from person-to-person; but this is a small leap for those who enjoy Body Horror, of which Love certainly qualifies.  (For those unaware, Body Horror involves the use or loss of control of one’s body as a central conceit; and it generally includes the transformation of the victim from an ordinary person into something monstrous.)  Succinctly, Stephen isn’t the only one here undergoing a metamorphosis; viewers watch in delight (or dismay if not downright disgust) as Gogol, too, begins to come out of his prim, proper, and poised demeanor into something deliciously evil.

Just as Helen of Troy gets blamed with having a face that sent nations to war, Yvonne – or, at least, her beauty – serves as the catalyst to drive Stephen and Gogol to (in different ways) do what they do in pursuit of her affection.  While Stephen’s is the vastly more acceptable portrayal of a man driven to do what he can to keep their union intact, it still taxes him psychologically.  One might even conclude that it’s this undercurrent of sexual desire that manifests his dark side: clearly, the difficulty of coming to grips (pun intended) with the changes he’s undergoing has created untold stress.  Gogol – in his duplicitous state – capitalizes on that emotional pain, and he rather easily pushes his competitor into his hysteria.  Little does the doctor know that it will prove his very own undoing.
 
Where Love doesn’t quite work as well is in handling its assortment of subplots.
 
In order to demonstrate how driven he is to possess Yvonne, Gogol purchases the wax likeness of the actress on display in the theater lobby.  Secreting it away into his private study, it becomes a visual clue to his obsession, one which only a few key players will know about and speak over rather conveniently when the need arises.  One such person is Gogol’s housemaid, Françoise (May Beatty), a role played so downright vaudevillian it feels like it belongs in a different picture.  In fact, the way she prattle about constantly – in a relatively low-brow state of attire – beggars the question of why Gogol would’ve hired such a nincompoop in the first place.  Eventually, she’s bribed by a bottle of liquor, and barely even a swallow induces her to a state of double vision, an element which plays out in cringeworthy fashion in the latter half.
 
Additionally, audiences are introduced to an American reporter: Reagan (Ted Healy) has been dispatched to Europe to cover Rollo’s execution, an event that occurs apparently only moments after the villain survives the aforementioned train crash.  While enjoying the foreign land, Reagan also takes it upon himself to try to recruit the world-renowned Gogol to pen feature commentaries for his newspaper, a plot point which essentially goes nowhere in the already fairly-heavily-involved premise.  The perception is given that several months go by between Love’s start and finish; and yet there’s no plausible theory offered for why the reporter remains on the scene in France when – more likely – he would’ve been recalled by his editors given the state of the world at the time.
 
Still, Love’s greatest asset is in resting the lion’s share of its narrative weight on Lorre’s capable shoulders.  What emerges under his interpretation is how fragile a learned man’s mind could be turned to villainy.  Often quoting mythology and poetry, Gogol dresses impeccably, speaks eloquently, and plays the role of the man about town with great finesse.  It’s in the picture’s smaller yet duskier moments that his monomaniacal nature springs to life; and we witness the good doctor completely incapacitated when a young child requiring surgery shows up on his operating table.  Overcome with grief over the loss of Yvonne and now gripped with auditory hallucinations, he’s the shell of the man we saw earlier … but the cackling wacko – complete with one of the most macabre costumes of a beheaded man seemingly made whole again by science – slowly coming to life will be anything but silent in his relentless pursuit of love gone mad.
​

Mad Love (1935) was produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at Warner Archive.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I can assure readers that this picture both looks and sounds pretty fabulous throughout: there are a few scenes with the usual grain – and one with a weird edit (which must go back to the source material) – but there’s nothing that impedes the entertainment value.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  All the disc boasts is an audio commentary from film historian Steve Haberman which – at times – sounds more like he’s reading from his book report than actually ‘commentating,’ but maybe that’s just me.  It’s definitely informative, but it also has several silent passages wherein he’s clearly lost in thought or watching the picture.
 
Recommended.
 
Having finally seen a film I’ve read so much about, I’m thrilled to say that – most definitely – I found it as worthwhile an effort have so many have already proclaimed.  Mad Love is a curious delight – one with flaws tied more to the era of its production than anything else – but that’s not to say its perfect.  The humor with Gogol’s housekeeper never quite settles in and feels like it should’ve been sent to another flick; and there’s no sufficient explanation for why an American news reporter sent overseas to cover an execution remains embedded in France what I’m led to believe is months later.  Furthermore, Orlac begins to question his own sanity a bit too easily; and the story covers so much ground – with subplots coming and going – that the pacing suffers in a few spots.  But … behold Lorre!  He gives a pretty impressive turn as the eventually unraveled physician, a man whose obviously learned mind betrays him.  Yeah … maybe it happens a bit too easily … but there’s still a bit of wired lunacy that shows just what talent the actor controlled.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary copy of Mad Love (1935) – as part of their Blu-ray set of Hollywood Legends Of Horror Collection – 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
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