Let’s close out spooky season with BARBARIAN, NEAR DARK and more
Plus, some Stephen King and spooky-fun family views.
Yeah, this is much better.
A few weeks ago, I announced my plan to pull back on how much I was doing for this newsletter. Not abandoning it, but reducing some of the ongoing series so that I could have some better balance between personal life, reviews and other obligations.
I’m enjoying this schedule. I’ve watched more at my own pace, my writing is more focused and I don’t feel the pressure to constantly churn out content. It’s turned this newsletter back into a joy, and I hope that translates in the writing itself.
We’re heading into Halloween weekend, and like usual, my spooky season viewing hasn’t been as constant as I’d hoped. It’s hard to find time to watch a bloody slasher flick when you have kids who could saunter in any moment. But I’ve seen and read a few things, in addition to my Evil Dead revisit from last week, and the good thing is that they’re all worth talking about. Starting next week, I’m going to try to focus a lot on catching up on some 2022 releases as we head into the final two month’s of the year, and there are some big theatrical releases coming out as well, so there should be a lot coming.
But before we do that, let’s talk about spooky stuff.
Avoid all spoilers for BARBARIAN
I’m not a spoiler-phobe. I try to avoid serious plot reveals and surprises before going into a movie, but I don’t go to the Twitter-muting/ear-plugging lengths some fans do. In my opinion, there are very few good films that can be ruined by a spoiler; the best tell their stories so well that you can still be caught up in the narrative even if you know what’s coming.
But occasionally, a movie works best when you go in as cold as possible, and this fall’s sleeper horror hit Barbarian has been described as one of those. I wasn’t able to catch the movie on its theatrical release, but it hit HBO Max this past Tuesday, and I finally was able to take a look. And I agree with those who implored curious viewers to stay as blissfully unaware as possible before their first viewing; part of the fun with this one is the wild ride it takes to end up in places it never even hints at in its first act.
I can probably set up just as much as the trailer does (which doesn’t even hint at the craziness in store over the film’s 100 minutes). A young woman named Tess (Georgina Campbell) heads to Detroit for a job interview and books an Airbnb in the heart of one of the city’s more derelict areas. She arrives late at night to find that the house has been double-booked and is currently occupied by Keith (Bill Sarsgaard), who seems just as befuddled by the error as Tess. The two try to make the most of the mistake and strike up a tentative friendship, but the film’s tone implies from the start that something is off. From that description, you might think you know where this is heading; trust me, you don’t.
It’s not that Barbarian covers new ground in horror cinema; it’s more that it’s a reliable mix of scares, gore and suspense that takes an unconventional route to get to a familiar destination. Writer-director Zach Cregger’s script smartly plays on our expectations and has a great time thwarting them, creating a film that keeps you on your toes throughout. Cregger also has an exquisite knack for creating tension, and several of the film’s best moments involve no violence or scares at all but simply play off the mounting dread.
Cregger’s background prior to Barbarian was in comedy, and I’m far from the first critic to argue that horror and comedy are cousins, each dependent on unpredictability and timing to fully work. Much of Barbarian is a slow burn, with the tension slowly ratcheting. It’s punctuated by unexpected comedy and a unique structure that allows the film to reset the pace and slowly wind itself up before delivering the next scare. By the film’s final act, it’s an unhinged, gory, delightfully weird bit of horror whose final shot is weirdly poignant.
It also helps that Barbarian has something on its mind, but to delve too deeply would ruin the surprises. The best I can say is that Cregger’s twisted story, by the end, has put a new spin on the idea of toxic masculinity, implicating not only its villains, but its ostensible protagonists. Don’t mistake this for elevated horror; it’s a squirmy, gross, scream-inducing bit of pure genre. But it’s far from empty-headed. It’s a ton of fun and one of the most enjoyable horror movies in a year full of good ones.
The meanest vampires in the West
I have a love/hate relationship with The Criterion Channel. It’s probably the one essential streaming service for any true cinephile, but its biggest problem is that its selections from month to month are so good that there’s no way I can get through them all. This month’s ‘80s horror collection is a great example. I have at least 10 of their selections added to my queue, but finding the time to delve into them is difficult.
However, I did have a pocket of time last weekend to watch Near Dark on the streamer. Katherine Bigelow’s 1987 vampire western had been on my to-watch list for years, but it’s been extremely hard to find on physical or digital rental spaces. I saw several fellow film lovers express excitement when Criterion announced it as an October feature, and made sure it was one of the ones I prioritized this Halloween, and I’m glad I did.
I suppose the presence of vampires could make Near Dark considered a horror movie, and there’s certainly a terrifying sequence at its center. But at heart, the movie’s a modern western, complete with the requisite scenes where the bad guys commandeer a saloon, a close-quarters shootout with law, and a finale in which a lone ranger rides down Main Street on his horse to bring the bad guys to justice. It’s just that when these bad hombres say they’re out for blood, they literally mean it.
Adrian Pasdar plays Caleb, a young man bored out of his mind in his tiny Oklahoma town. One night, he meets the mysterious Mae (Jenny Wright), who he spends the evening trying to woo. When she becomes increasingly insistent that he get her home before the sun rises and he tries to make that difficult, she rewards him with a bite on the neck. It’s not long before Caleb starts feeling sick and is quickly kidnapped by a community of vampires who travel the countryside in an RV. They initially mistake him for a potential snack, but when Mae reveals he’s been turned, they give him an ultimatum: learn to get your own food within the space of a week, or they’ll kill him.
This was Bigelow’s second film as a director, but already she shows a knack for drawing out tension and letting it explode in violent catharsis. Caleb’s not a bad guy, although his initial night with Mae early on displays some gross male aggressiveness. But as he wrestles with his new identity and comes to learn more about the gang he now depends on to stay alive(ish), he’s deeply disturbed by their lust for violence and the way they get off on terrorizing others. Since the gang includes Lance Henriksen and Bill Paxton, you can probably guess how scary they truly are.
The film’s central set piece is an extended sequence where the vampires lock themselves in a shit-kicker bar and proceed to terrorize and slaughter almost the entire clientele. Whether it’s Henriksen and Jenette Goldstein (who play long-time companions) teaming up to kill a waiter or Mae seducing a hapless patron, the ease with which they commit murder is chilling. But it’s nothing compared to Paxton, who delivers a career-best performance, as his vampire intimidates and goads his victims before killing them, making it very obvious he gets off on the power he has and the fear he elicits. I don’t often find vampires scary – and, incidentally, the word is never uttered in this film – because the glamor and seductiveness tends to defang (sorry) the primal terror; but in Near Dark, they scared me for their sheer cruelty and unpredictability.
I’ve loved many of Bigelow’s films, but this is among her best. The bar sequence is an all-time bit of horror, but there’s also a tense shoot-out in a motel shortly after, and the film’s climax is an explosive bit of action. But Bigelow also brings a sleek style to the mix; there’s genuine eroticism in the burgeoning relationship between Caleb and Mae, and I appreciate the vulnerability and humanity Pasdar brings to a role that otherwise could have been the wet blanket character in the movie. I don’t quite think the film’s attempts to find a solution to vampirism work, and the way it ties up the Caleb and Mae relationship with a neat bow is a touch too tidy. But still, this one’s a classic, and I’m glad I took the time.
Illustration by Yani-X on DeviantArt.
King of Halloween
I haven’t been able to watch any other Stephen King adaptations this Halloween, but I did read more of Nightmares and Dreamscapes. I’m about halfway through, and it might be one of the more consistent and well-written of King’s short story collections. It’s really solid stuff.
In the afterward, King suggests that the titular character of “Popsy” might be one and the same with the titular character in “The Night Flier,” and it’s definitely an interesting choice to put the collections two vampire stories back to back. But where “Night Flier” was an epic, sprawling bit of terror, “Popsy” is a more focused, claustrophobic short story. Told through the eyes of a man who abducts children from the mall at the behest of a mob sicko, the story picks up on the time he snatches the wrong kid. King has a knack for tapping into the perspective of pathetic men pushed to pathetic actions, and he doesn’t try to make his central character likable, which makes it all the more enjoyable when he gets his comeuppance at the hands of a blood-thirsty old man and his doting grandson. Fun, with that mean edge King often brought to the table.
“It Grows On You” is an early story taking place in King’s famous fictional town of Castle Rock, Maine, but since Nightmares and Dreamscapes was published after Needful Things, marketed as the final Castle Rock story, this 1973 short is actually a chance to pay one last visit to the hamlet (although in subsequent years, King has done a few Castle Rock-set works). It’s a leisurely bit of mood-building that examines the effect one nasty old man and his nasty wife have on the sleepy town. It’s a beautifully written piece, imagine Wendell Berry crossed with Edgar Allen Poe, and the horror lurks at the edges. The story never has giant scares, but it creeps under your skin.
“Chattery Teeth” is a weird tale that probably goes on a bit longer than it needs to. It’s about a man who pays a visit to a roadside attraction, is taken with a novelty item and then has a horrific encounter on the road that may or may not be related. Its finale is gruesome and there’s a dark punchline that makes the story worth it, but its wind-up is a bit longer than it needs to be.
“Dedication” is a quintessential bit of young King in that it’s sufficiently spooky and gross, and fairly problematic. The story is basically one long conversation between a hotel maid and her co-worker, discussing the events surrounding her son’s birth and the, um, contributions of a wealthy hotel guest. It’s an unsettling, often ugly story, mixing in elements of spousal abuse, white privilege and witchcraft. There’s a crucial moment in the story that is nauseating and dark even for seasoned King readers. King has a knack for crafting stories around two-person dialogues, and this is never dull. But early King was a bit shaky when it came to writing stories from other racial perspectives, and while I wouldn’t call this a racist story — indeed, it’s very much a story about the ugliness of racism — he does venture into uncomfortable stereotypes that I imagine even he’d have trouble reconciling these days.
Not sure I’ll finish this before Halloween; I’m debating whether to finish it this year or save the un-read stories for next Halloween.
Creepy, kooky, mysterious and spooky family watches
My kids are 10 and 7, which makes them the perfect ages for Halloween. And we’ve spent much of the past month watching scary(ish) movies together. That started with Disney+’s Hocus Pocus 2, which I was not a fan of. But we rebounded shortly after with our annual viewing of The Nightmare Before Christmas, a movie I never saw in theaters but have fallen in love with over the last decade.
I still think it’s Henry Selick’s masterpiece (and, although he didn’t direct it, probably Tim Burton’s as well). The stop-motion animation is fun and haunting in equal measures, and it feels like a very personal story for Burton, whose attempts to fit in with the Disney brand early in his career felt like a bad fit with a man who was clearly interested in darker things; Burton’s a Halloween person who was trying to be a Christmas person, and when he embraced his darker instincts, he found his voice (his eventual relationship with Disney has been spotty at best). I love the look of this movie and I adore the songs. I really hope when it hits its 30th anniversary next year, Disney releases it in theaters in 3D; this is a movie I’d love to be immersed in. I still think the Sally/Doctor subplot, as well as her relationship with Jack; cut those, and you have a fantastic short Halloween special for TV. I’m also really glad no one ever made a sequel.
Finally, last night we watched The Addams Family. My kids had seen the recent animated adaptation (and my daughter loves the theme song), but they hadn’t seen Barry Sonnenfeld’s 1991 directorial debut. I hadn’t seen it in at least 25 years myself. And man, does it hold up. A lot of people still mistakenly believe Tim Burton helmed this one (he’s had nothing to do with the franchise, but does have the Netflix show Wednesday coming shortly). I think Burton would have brought a weight of angst to the story that would have undercut the humor; Sonnenfeld’s aware he’s making a straight comedy, and has a lot of fun with the dark humor. The set design is fantastic, and while I’d remembered how great Christina Ricci was as Wednesday, I’d forgotten how perfect a performance Raul Julia gives as Gomez. The film’s extremely quotable, and the kids particularly enjoyed Cousin Itt and Puggsley and Wednesday’s bloody school play. I think a Thanksgiving viewing of Addams Family Values might be in order.
And that’s where we’ll stop this week. I think next week might shape up to be a pretty eventful newsletter. Perry and I have a new episode of We’re Watching Here we’re planning to record, I’m hoping to get started on my 2022 catch-ups, and I think there’s been enough interesting developments to talk a little bit about the current state of superhero cinema. So, until then, have a happy Halloween everyone!