HARUM SCARUM (1965)

 

Leave your brain at the door for this one.

Finally saw HARUM SCARUM (1965), one of the top contenders for the dubious distinction of being Elvis’s rock-bottom worst film, alongside the equally maligned KISSIN’ COUSINS (1964). While KISSIN’ COUSINS very much played into its era’s trend toward “cornpone” comedy, HARUM SCARUM harks back to the B-movie genre of “exotic” Arabian-set adventure/romances of the 1940’s and 1950’s, with California unconvincingly standing in for Middle Eastern locations. 

Originally released as a double-feature with the classic Toho kaiju flick, GHIDRAH THE THREE-HEADED MONSTER, 

I swear this actually happened. Talk about tonal whiplash... 

HARUM SCARUM finds Elvis starring as Johnny Tyrone, a nightclub entertainer and movie star on a goodwill tour of the Middle East, who is kidnapped and tasked to use his karate skills to murder the king of an isolationist desert nation that has kept Western influences at bay for two millennia. If he does not murder the king, a league of assassins will kill a troupe of performing thieves and orphans that Elvis has befriended. (Why the league of assassins don’t just dispose of the king themselves is never addressed.)

Elvis as Johnny Tyrone. Rudolph Valentino he ain't.

 There are escapes, double-crosses, mild derring-do, Michael Ansara (I DREAM OF JEANNIE's Blue Djinn and Klingon captain Kang from the original STAR TREK and STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE), the always welcome Billy Barty, and romance with the king’s gorgeous daughter, all accented with a steady roster of forgettable musical numbers.

When compared against KISSIN’ COUSINS, I have to say that I find HARUM SCARUMto be the superior film. Yes, it’s incredibly stupid, but it’s as mindlessly entertaining as any of the many faux Arabian exotica flicks that Hollywood had cranked out for the previous twenty years, and Elvis and company all look like they had a blast filming it, unlike the somnambulistic performances in KISSIN’COUSINS. The comedy, though stupid, does not insult one’s intelligence in the way that KISSIN’ COUSINS did, and the songs are all definitely better (though it's an admittedly low bar). However, the one disturbing trend of several Elvis films of the early/mid-1960's that pops up again here is Elvis engaging in a musical number with a pre-pubescent girl that, though intended to be "cute," comes off as douche-chills-inducingly borderline-pedo. (You'll know that scene when you get to it, so have your thumb on your remote's fast forward button.)

Seriously, this sequence made me squirm.

When you add it all up, it's a lot more breezy and fun than KISSIN' COUSINS and I would actually recommend it as a passable waste of 85 minutes. So, for now in my estimation, KISSIN' COUSINS retains the crown as the worst Elvis movie that I have endured. Will I find one of his other works to be somehow even worse? I intend to make my way through all of the King's cinematic oeuvre as the mood strikes me, so STAY TUNED.

Poster for the original theatrical release.

KISSIN' COUSINS (1964)

Twice the Elvis, infinite awfulness.

KISSIN’ COUSINS (1964) was Elvis’s fourteenth film in eight years — he averaged two or three films per year from 1960 through to 1969 — and by this point his movies were virtually interchangeable, distinguishable from one another only by the setting and Elvis’s vocation in the story. This time around he plays a U.S. Army lieutenant who is forced into helping the Army  obtain permission to use an area of Tennessee’s Great Smoky Mountains as the location of a top secret ICBM missile base. He’s pressed into this task because the area is owned by an ornery hillbilly stereotype who hates outsiders, especially representatives of the government, but Elvis’s character’s family were once native to the area and he’s related to the hillbily’s family because one of his elder relatives married one of the hillbilly’s relatives, so Elvis is kin and therefore not a target for murder upon entering hill country. 

With a small platoon of fellow soldiers and his commanding officer in tow, Elvis attempts to broker the land deal while fending off the hostilities of his blonde lookalike cousin, and also contending with the attentions of two cornpone cuties, one of whom is played by a pre-BATMAN Yvonne Craig, who spends much of the film running around in a yellow bikini. Oh, and the cuties in question are his cousins.

 

 The all-natural, puberty-enflaming wonder that was Yvonne Craig.

 

There’s a time limit on making the deal, and if it does not go as planned, Elvis’s commanding officer is threatened with getting reassigned to Greenland instead of the cushy Pentagon gig that he aspires to, and if he fails he’ll take Elvis down with him.  

 

The old hillbilly proves to be stubborn about relinquishing the land, even for good compensation and a number of accompanying perks, so Elvis has his work cut out for him. And while all of this is going on, there’s romance, assorted hillbilly shenanigans with moonshine and revolting country vittles, terrible musical numbers that Elvis pretty much sleepwalks through, and, my favorite of the film’s many stupid elements, the “threat” of the Kittyhawks, a roving band of hot man-starved nymphomaniacs who roam the mountains in search of men to knock them up so they’ll have boy babies. All these idiotic elements come together at the end, when every problem is solved by a massive drunken party, with the Kittyhawks getting it on with the servicemen.

 

Elvis versus the Kitthawks. The hills are alive with the sound of nymphomania.

Considered by many to be the rock-bottom worst in the lengthy Elvis filmography, and definitely the worst that I have seen thus far. KISSIN’ COUSINS is aggressively brain-dead but is fun to sit through for its we-don’t-gove-a-fuck utter idiocy. Like most other Elvis films of the 1960’s, it runs out of steam about halfway through, but stick with it just to see the ridiculous conclusion.

 

 "You gals ever hear of buggery?"

When I ran the film for Lexi and Ginna (Lexi’s older sister and Bad Movie Night regular), Ginna noted that she, like me, had received her education on the cinema of Elvis via the times when the late, lamented 4:30 MOVIE would do an “Elvis Week” showcase, and though she had seen and enjoyed many an Elvis flick for their sheer mindless entertainment value, she had never seen KISSIN’ COUSINS. When it was over, she remarked that it was likely the worst one she had ever seen, thanks to its stagebound visual cheapness, terrible dialogue and performances, and a roster of unlistenable dreck that passed as songs.

The next Elvis outing that I plan on subjecting the sisters to is HARUM SCARUM (1965), in which Elvis goes to Arabia and engages in Arabian Nights shenanigans. It’s another strong contender for the crown as Elvis’s worst, so I can't wait to endure it.

 

 Poster for the original theatrical release.

HERCULES (2014)

Dwayne Johnson, making for an impressive Hercules.

Finally got around to checking out HERCULES (2014). Taking place after the completion of the famous twelve labors, this gives us a Hercules (Dwayne Johnson) who leads a band of mercenary heroes, including Ian McShane as a skilled spearman who sees visions of his death,  

and the athlete Atalanta (Ingrid Bolsø Berdal), here reimagined as an Amazon archery badass.  

Though widely lauded for his amazing feats and status as a demi-god, Hercules bears the guilt of having killed his wife and children, a state of mind that holds him back from true greatness, but he nonetheless leads his companions when they are hired to lead the army of Thrace against savage marauders. But all is not as it seems, with neither Hercules's culpability for his family's murders nor with the people he and his stalwart crew were hired to rout. And, interestingly, there is question as to whether the mythic hero is actually the son of Zeus, or is he just a figure whose legend grows with each retelling?

Basically a matinee popcorn muncher, I can see why this flopped, as it's little more than a throwback to the seemingly endless Italian mythological muscleman flicks of the 1950's and 1960's peplum wave, only with the production values to make it look quite lavish. It's nothing great, but lovers of ancient world epics and mythic adventure will find it an agreeable way to pass just over ninety minutes. Dwayne Johnson makes an appropriately beefy Hercules, and his band of mercenaries are all a lot of fun. It's the kind of thing I would have absolutely loved if I'd seen it at age nine, and even at my current age of fifty-nine, I was entertained. Recommended as a minor diversion for mythology goons and peplum addicts.

Poster for the theatrical release.

RED ONE (2024)

Who knew I needed to see a slap fight between the Rock and Krampus?

It's just before Christmas Eve and Santa is kidnapped for a scheme that will usurp his annual duties and find all on the naughty list imprisoned forever, thus making the world a nicer place. It's up to Santa's hulking bodyguard and an amoral, world-class cyber-tracker/thief who can find anyone who doesn't want to be found to retrieve Santa and save Christmas while weathering all manner of obstacles, both fantastical and all-too-human, before the world must face a year without Christmas.

Since it was free on Amazon Prime Video, I just watched RED ONE (2024) and it was absolutely NOT what I expected going in. I anticipated a treacly Christmas movie for the kiddies, but what I got was a two-hour mashup of a TAKEN-style kidnapping rescue thriller, mismatched buddy movie, an examination of family dysfunction, monster movie, and PG-13-level violent superhero action flick. It's tonally all over the place and it's definitely not for the little ones, as it can get rather intense for a seasonal item, and that's why I'm going to wager that it will eventually find an audience of tweeners and older on home video. It's an antidote to nauseating Christmas family fare, despite wielding a number of heartwarming elements, and at its heart it's more of an action film than anything else.

I don't have kids but I would bet that at just over two hours, it's likely a tad too long for the endurance of the average moviegoing child, plus some of the concussive action, eerie visuals, and superb creature makeups may be a bit much for the really little ones, so know your kids' ability to handle such material before sitting them down with this.

Chris Evans is a lot of fun, playing a character who's the moral polar opposite of Steve Rogers, and Dwayne Johnson is his usual superhero self as the veteran head of Santa's security. They work well as a mismatched duo, and I enjoyed their dynamic quite a lot. Also, extra points for the diverse crew that populates the North Pole. There are humans (apparently), elves, trolls, and anthropomorphic polar animals, including my favorite, a polar bear security enforcer named Garcia.

 

The depiction of "Santa magic" is arguably the most interesting that this fan of fantastical tales has yet seen onscreen, and the tactical deployment of size-changing/reality-warping tech reminded me of how the Atom fights in the comics.

RED ONE is a flawed piece, but I was entertained because I took it in as a superhero movie about supers who are tied into the mythic lore of Christmas. It's definitely not for those who like their yuletide cinema to be all sentimental and sugary, though it does feature bridge-building to salve inter-familial rifts. Bottom line: At heart, this is a Christmas superhero flick, complete with powerful supernatural supervillain, and as such I say it was better than the past several MCU efforts (an admittedly low bar). Smoke a bowl, down some spiked eggnog, and enjoy it for the weird genre chimera that it is.

Poster for the theatrical release.

JOKER: FOLIE A DEUX (2024)

FOLIE A DOO-DOO, more like.

Just made it through JOKER: FOLIE A DEUX (2024). Talk about a slog...

This turd has already been dissected to death on the internet, so all I have to say is that it's a would-be opera that instead ended up as a bad, pretentious catalog of movie musical cliches, or it was intentionally crafted to troll the audience that so lauded the inexplicably overrated first film. It's a musical where the vocal performances should be outlawed by the Geneva Convention, the romance between the protagonists depends on the audience more or less taking their love as given without really doing much of anything to sell it (which did not work for me at all), and the damned thing felt as long as BERLIN ALEXANDERPLATZ. 

I didn't like the original, so whether this sequel fails or not matter not at all to me, as the only reasons I saw this were that it was free, and solely so I could see what the hoopla was about in order to be able to comment on it from an informed point of view. That said, it's a well-crafted disaster across the board. It's pretty and professionally realized, but a gilded turd is still a turd.

THE BRAVE ONE (2007)

Vengeance is mine?

Operating very much within the same territory as the exploitation classic MS .45 (1981), this Neil (THE CRYING GAME) Jordan-helmed vehicle is at first glance another in the long line of “harmed citizen strikes back” flicks, but it’s head and shoulders better than most of its brethren thanks to it having more on its mind than giving its audience the vicarious thrill of seeing the human vermin who infest the streets greet a lead slug head-on.

Jodie Foster plays Erica Bain, an NPR-type radio talk show host who is brutally mugged one evening and survives the assault while her fiancée perishes from his injuries (adding insult to injury, the thugs also steal her dog). Understandably traumatized, she illegally obtains a firearm and sets about cruising the NYC streets, subways and parks in search of deserving prey, all in hope of one day finding the bastards who took away her man. As her body count grows the police follow her trail, and as they draw ever closer Bain enters into a friendship with the head of the investigation, a detective named Mercer (played by IRON MAN’s Terrence Howard). The detective sees her near the site of a double homicide she’s just committed on the subway, recognizes her from her mugging (he’d seen her in the hospital) and is soon revealed to believe firmly in the letter of the law despite the fact that it doesn’t always work for those wronged, a state of reality that frustrates him immensely. As the two start up a dialogue and Bain learns to trust him, the detective sees just how messed up the vigilante talk show host is and starts to suspect she may be the killer he’s after, but does she really deserve incarceration when what she clearly needs is closure and therapy?

Therein lies the real heart of THE BRAVE ONE: the viewer isn’t prompted by the script into the bloodthirsty mania one would have expected from similar features that once populated Times Square during the golden age of grindhouse fodder, and instead we see the fear and paranoia Erica lives with when not safe within her broadcasting booth. Her recovery just is not possible until she puts down her fiancée’s killers, but until then she’s a fucking mess who’s conflicted by her own murderous nocturnal activities and the mostly-positive reception her rampage garners from the Big Apple’s population. Unlike the implacable forty-four caliber juggernauts who preceded her on the big screen, Bain is all-too-human and she’s disturbed that her hands do not shake after she terminates the city’s two-legged predators; all we want to see is her put down her pistol and get the help that she so clearly needs, never once experiencing the frisson of seeing her mete out terminal justice to a bunch of rat-fuck scumbags who really deserve it. (Okay, I admit that I wanted the pair on the subway to die most heinously, but so may you after one of them asks Erica the charming question, “Have you ever been fucked with a knife?”). No surprise, but Jodie Foster once more turns in a terrific performance, and her character’s on-the-edge-of-sanity nervousness fairly radiates from her fragile-looking frame, her haunted eyes conveying volumes of tortured emotion with just a closeup.

Terrence Howard’s Detective Mercer is also notable for being one of the more believable “noble cop” types, and as he starts to figure out that Erica is the vigilante killer, we actually want to see him catch her because he obviously cares about her mental health and perfectly understands her agony. Here is a cop who would do everything within his power to make things right for Bain, but in lieu of that being possible, what’s a guy to do?

A sobering antidote to vigilantism fantasy-fulfillment movies of the MS .45 school, THE BRAVE ONE is highly recommended, but it is in no way a cathartic feel-good date movie. It’s a study of a woman pushed past the limits of what she believes is right, and immersed into a visceral world where only the cold detachment of an urban hunter can write the final chapter in her epic of tragedy, so keep that in mind before renting.

Poster for the theatrical release.

GLADIATOR II (2024)

 

 Director Ridley Scott returns to the sands of the arena.

 

GLADIATOR II (2024) is a decent sequel, filled with all of the elements fans of the ancient world epic genre want, but with one glaring problem: its protagonist is by far the least interesting character in it. The narrative would have been much better served if it focused solely on Pedro Pascal's war-weary Roman general who only wishes to retire and spend time with his wife, but it's made clear by the twin emperors that he is their bitch and must therefore never cease conquering in the name of the empire. Also fun is Denzel Washington as an owner or gladiators who seeks to use the film's hero, the son of the original's Maximus, as his stepping stone to usurping the throne. 

 

But, whatever. 

 

There is enough pageantry, lavish costumes, well-choreographed and realistic fight scenes, cartoonish CGI animals,graphic violence, and flamboyant camp that the genre has provided since the days when Rome's Cineccita studios was cranking out badly-dubbed peplum imports by the dozen seemingly every other week to keep fans of the genre entertained. And extra points for the inclusion of Derek Jacobi, a favorite and an immortal in my eyes for his unforgettable performance in the classic I, CLAUDIUS (1976). 

 

Worth seeing, but better if seen at at cheap matinee or via streaming on a huge flatscreen at home.

 

Poster for the theatrical release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2024 - Day 31: LATE NIGHT WITH THE DEVIL (2024)

 

When a Sweeps Week stunt goes horribly wrong.

As the 1960's gave way to the turbulent 1970's, television more than ever brought the horrors of the world directly into our living rooms, and that dire deluge was pointedly offset by fare such as late-night talk shows, with THE TONIGHT SHOW with Johnny Carson becoming a broadcast monolith. In1971, the UBC network launches NIGHT OWLS, hosted by former radio personality Jack Delroy (David Dastmalchian), who seeks to challenge Carson's late-night supremacy. Welcomed to the network with a five-year contract, Jack builds an audience, but he and his show remain in the shadow of his rival.

Jack is happily married to stage actress Madeleine Piper (Georgina Haig), his deeply-loved muse,  and their marriage is hailed as one of the most solid in the entertainment biz, but his other support is the Grove, a men-only club sequestered deep in the redwoods of California. Established in the 1800's and comprised of politicians, entertainers, and captains of industry, the Grove presents itself to the outside world as a harmless diversion for the rich and powerful, complete with rituals and accompanying owl-based garb, but it somehow has the power to make or break careers. 

A ritual at the Grove. 

By the end of Jack's fourth year with the network, the ratings still can't touch Carson's and though repeatedly nominated for prestigious awards, Jack remains an also-ran. Then, in 1976, Madeleine is diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. When Madeleine dies, a distraught Jack vanishes to parts unknown for a month, but Jack soon returns and, in a bid to bolster ever-flagging ratings, books controversial and exploitative guests. As ratings steadily plummet, a desperate Jack plans a live Sweeps Week Halloween installment that will hopefully turn things around. With the cultural impact of THE EXORCIST (1973) and the perception that the world had entered a satanic era very much in the zeitgeist, the night's featured guests include a spiritualist (Fayssal Bazzi) who claims to hear the voices of the dead, a former magician (Ian Bliss) who debunks metaphysical frauds, and a parapsychologist (Laura Gordon) whose star patient and subject of a best-selling case study, an eerie 13-year-old girl (Ingrid Torelli), is the sole survivor of a satanic cult's mass suicide and who purportedly is host to the demon Abraxas. What results is a live event that shocked the nation and that is presented to us as the found master tape of that episode, plus behind the scenes footage, and none of it goes well for any and all involved.

Regan McNeal redux.

I wanted to close this year's round of 31 DAYS OF HORROR with something truly good and of recent vintage, and LATE NIGHT WITH THE DEVIL more than meets that criteria. In fact, I'll go out on a limb and preemptively hail it as a modern classic, one of the finest horror offerings of the 21st Century thus far.

The film perfectly captures the smarmy and trite banality of the 1970's late-night talk show genre, a look and feel that will be instantly recognizable to those of us who experienced the decades-long reign of THE TONIGHT SHOW, and the entire cast perform their roles with utterly believable verisimilitude while the narrative examines the price of fame and power. Jack Delroy is a study in ruthless show biz narcissism and lust for power, no matter who is exploited or hurt, and when the proceedings veer deep into the dark side, things become quite unnerving and downright Lovecraftian. To say more would ruin the fun, so I'll just sign off by giving LATE NIGHT WITH THE DEVIL very high marks indeed. It's a must-see for all horror devotees, especially those who feel that the whole "devil junk" teat was milked dry after fifty years of attempts at topping THE EXORCIST. Proof positive that quality, intelligent, genuinely creepy and scary horror still exists.

And that concludes another round of 31 DAYS OF HORROR, my own humble annual veneration of the frisson that the cinema of the macabre bestows upon our hearts and minds. Thank you for reading my blather, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed reliving these flicks. See you back here next year for more!

Poster for the theatrical release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2024-Day 30: SLEEPAWAY CAMP (1983)

  Fun in the sun...NOT.

1975: Young siblings Angela and Peter go on a boating trip with their father and his male lover. When the boat capsizes, the father and kids end up in the path of careless teens in a motorboat and are struck. The father and one of the children are killed.

1983: The surviving kid, Angela (Felissa Rose), has grown into a traumatized and withdrawn teen who lives with her weirdo psychiatrist aunt and her cousin Ricky, who's for all intents and purposes Angela's surrogate brother. Angela and Ricky are sent to Camp Arawak for the summer, where Angela's shy and quiet nature instantly finds her marked for abuse by bullies and the camp's pedophile cook. Ricky does his best to protect her, but he can't be everywhere. The usual summer camp movie tropes and hijinx ensue, but then "accidents" begin to occur, and then a series of killings that escalate in levels of nastiness. As the bodies pile up and the mystery deepens, the question is who is the killer? The answer is revealed in a disturbing flashback that leads to a now legendary shock ending.

 

Just one of the many fun summer activities at Camp Arawak.

Of the many '80's slasher movies set at a summer camp, SLEEPAWAY CAMP is perhaps the most unusual. We get a decent number of kills, including vaginal penetration with a hot electric curling iron and death by active beehive, and the script treats the audience like it's not composed solely of drooling idiots. We automatically identify with the traumatized and abused Angela, so it's cathartic seeing her tormentors meet horrible fates.  

                   A slasher movie first: death by vaginal penetration with a hot electric curling iron.

I was late to the party on this one, not seeing it until the early 2000's, when I should have seen it at the legendary Norwalk Theater during, but at the time I was in the midst of my first semester of college, so I seldom went to the movies and spent more time doing my damnedest to pursue college girls. I regret missing it in the theater, but when I finally got around to it, I was surprised by how good it was. Yes, the bar for quality was quite low when it came to films from the '80's deluge of stalk 'n' kill flicks, so this one being as good as it is was a welcome surprise, and I think it may have gotten lost in the shuffle if I saw it during the sub-genre's heyday.

You'll not I do not go into much detail regarding the plot, and there's a reason for that. SLEEPAWAY CAMP is best approached with little or no knowledge of its particulars, and the information that I outlined is just the bare basics, so nothing was ruined. If you have not already seen it, avoid other reviews, as most of them give away everything, and some of the recent posters for the film spoil the ending, presumably because, much like PSYCHO (1960), its final twist is now famous, even to those who have not seen the film. It's not a masterpiece, but it is a solid little summertime shocker, and it deserves to be seen without much foreknowledge. Definitely one of the Top 10 slashers of its era.

Poster for the theatrical release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2024 - Day 29: EVENT HORIZON (1997)

Space is infinite... and so are its terrors.

2047: A rescue mission is sent to the orbit of Neptune, where seven years earlier the spaceship Event Horizon activated an experimental gravity drive and disappeared without a trace, but it has now suddenly returned. The designer of the gravity drive (Sam Neill) accompanies the rescue team and informs them that the gravity drive creates a black hole within its ship, which folds time and space, thus bypassing lengthy space voyages where the crew would remain in stasis until the destination is reached. Upon entering the Event Horizon, the rescuers find what remains of the crew to be dead, killed in horrific ways, with no explanation immediately apparent. The ship's log tape is reviewed, and its imagery cuts out just as the Event Horizon's captain initiates the gravity drive. The rescuers and the designer explore the ship, and what they find amounts to, well... Basically, the Event Horizon fucked off to another dimension, a place that's basically our concept of Hell, and the gravity drive has gained a malevolent sentience. It does not go well for the rescuers.

EVENT HORIZON wears its ALIEN influence on its sleeve, and features a game cast, great sets, and is gerally well-crafted all around. That said, It's definitely not for me. One of my least favorite flavors in horror is the haunted house. There are exceptions, but for the most part haunted house stories just don;t do it for me, and EVENT HORIZON is nothing if not a haunted house story set in deep space. It's good, but I kept check my watch to see how much longer I had to go until the end. Your mileage, however, is likely to vary. I know many who love it, and that's fine, but when it comes to haunted house chills, I'll take POLTERGEIST over this in a heartbeat. Anyway, it's a free country (for now), so you decide.

Poster for the theatrical release.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2024 - Day 28: THE NIGHT STRANGLER (1973)

Relentless investigative reporter Carl Kolchak (Darren McGavin) returns. 

Seattle, Washington — 

Having been run out of Las Vegas in the wake of the previous year's Janos Skorzeny vampire murder spree, investigative journalist Carl Kolchak (Darren McGavin) relocates to Seattle, Washington in search of work. He is once again hired by former boss Tony Vincenzo (Simon Oakland), who is also now in Seattle, just as young women being turning up murdered. All were strangled, or, more precisely, their necks were crushed by an assailant possessing superhuman strength, and the corpses each feature a small hole at the base of the skull, from which their blood was stolen via a hypodermic needle. 

 

An invulnerable superhuman strangler hunts the nighttime streets.

Kolchak's investigation uncovers a cycle of such slayings every 21 years, beginning in 1868, with the killer operating within a window of eighteen days, after which he disappears for another 21 years, after which the cycle resumes, over and over. Witnesses to the slayings describe the murderer as having a skull-like visage or resembling a rotting corpse, and during a very much one-sided run-in with cops witnessed by Kolchak, the killer is impervious to bullets. Aided by a graduate student (Jo Ann Pflug) who's working her way through college as a belly dancer, Kolchak discovers that the killer is a 19th Century physician named Dr. Richard Malcolm (Richard Anderson), a surgeon in the Union army during the American Civil War, who has mastered alchemy and discovered the Elixir of Life, which grants him immortality.  

But the elixir requires blood from female victims, six to be exact, to remain effective, lest its user begin rapidly aging, and Malcolm is nothing if not savagely relentless in the pursuit of the required component. The trail leads to a final confrontation in the ruins of an underground city, the famous Underground, beneath the living sidewalks of Seattle, where Malcolm proves to be coolly urbane, but clearly and quite homicidally mad, and Kolchak is trapped in his eerie lair, a morbid sanctum that presages the dining room from the climax of THE TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE the following year.

The eternal Dr. Richard Malcolm (Richard Anderson). So what if innocent women have to die horribly to sustain his immortality?

With 1972's THE NIGHT STALKER proving an unexpected ratings smash, a sequel was quickly rushed into production, and THE NIGHT STRANGLER is the end result. It's pretty much a remake of its predecessor, albeit with a shift in location and murderous creature, and as such it's merely okay. Its saving grace is Darren McGavin returning as Kolchak, and he remains as endearing as ever while his efforts are forever scoffed at, frustrated, and suppressed by his boss and hostile authorities. But we have seen this basic setup before, and previously done far better, so despite being-well-made and sporting a script by  returning horror master Richard Matheson, the proceedings are rather dull, though it does come to life during the final act, when the killer relates his history to Kolchak, who has invaded his lair. 

When immortality comes to a sudden halt and time catches up.

My re-watch of this was the first time I've seen this film since sitting through it during a family trip to Atlanta 51 years ago, and I clearly recall finding it entertaining because it distracted me from my parents' endless fighting during the vacation, as it was close to the last legs of their marriage. I liked the character of Kolchak, if not much else about the film, so I was on board when the character was granted his own weekly series, KOLCHAK: THE NIGHT STALKER, which lasted for one season (1975-1975). That show was a monster kid's dream, bringing a different monster to the screen with every installment, and I, along with most of the American monster kids of my generation, never missed an episode. I did not see the original THE NIGHT STALKER until I was in high school, and I understood why it was popular enough to warrant a sequel and subsequent series. 

This one's only for Kolchak completists, of which I unabashedly am one, but even I found this to mostly be a slog. I nearly fell asleep on it twice, and I was watching it during an afternoon. That said, you can skip this and miss nothing. I cite it solely for historical purposes, and also to advise you to skip straight to the weekly TV series instead.

 TV GUIDE ad for the film's broadcast premiere.

31 DAYS OF HORROR 2024 - Day 27: THEATRE OF BLOOD (1973)

 

Brush up your Shakespeare.

Master thespian Edward Lionheart (Vincent Price) has trod the boards of the British stage with his performances of the works of Shakespeare for decades, crafting an impressive legacy, but when it is time for his career to be recognized with a prestigious award, his deserved accolade is instead bestowed upon some newcomer nobody by a panel of nine theater critics who have viciously used their reviews to tear down and ridicule the actor for years. 

Master thespian Edward Lionheart (Vincent Price).

Secure in their own haughty self-presumed superiority, the critics think nothing of how their snubs humiliate and destroy the men and women who work so hard to hone their craft, all in the name of promoting the arts, honoring the classics, and entertaining an audience, and their treatment of Lioneart drives him to throw himself to his death from penthouse room where the critics panel goes to celebrate after the awards ceremony. But Lionheart survives, fished out of the river by a gang of alcoholic derelicts, and takes up residence in an opulent abandoned theater. From there he plots revenge upon his critics with grisly reenactments of murders from the works of the Bard, plays for which he was renowned. Aided by his loyal daughter, Edwina (Diana Rigg), Lionheart works his way down the roster of those who humiliated him, while also staying one step ahead of the police. Aided by key theatrical detractor Peregrine Devlin (Ian Hendry), the authorities rely on Devlin's familiarity with Shakespeare and Lionheart's repertoire to predict which famous murder will next be enacted in real life. Unlike the other critics, Devlin holds genuine respect for Lionheart's talents, but he used his critical platform to attempt to goad the actor into stepping into genres other than Shakespeare, as he felt that sticking strictly within the Shakespearean was holding Lionheart back. Nonetheless, hell hath no fury like a thespian scorned, and Lionheart is one vengeful and creative homicidal maniac.

Shylock, from THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, prepares to extract his pound of flesh.

Ah, the utter delight that is 1973's THEATRE OF BLOOD, perhaps the ultimate showcase for the singular excellence that was Vincent Price. One of the grandmasters of cinematic horror, Price has long been one of my favorite actors, for his ability to portray the sinister and the kindly with equal aplomb, but it was as a villain where he was sublime. Some considered his approach to be overwrought, rather fey, and even downright hammy, but I delight in seeing him chew the scenery like nobody's business, and this film provides him with a banquet for his scenery-chewing appetites.

The immolation of Joan of Arc in HENRY VI Part 1, given a 20th Century spin.

Reportedly Price's favorite of his films, THEATRE OF BLOOD allowed Price to go hog wild and play several of the classic Shakespearen roles that he was denied during his career, perhaps due to him being forever pigeonholed as merely a horror actor. In 104 minutes, Price unleashes superb interpretations of characters and murderous scenarios from JULIUS CAESAR, TROILUS AND CRESSIDA, CYMBELINE, THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, RICHARD III, ROMEO AND JULIET, OTHELLO, HENRY VI Part 1, TITUS ANDRONICUS, and KING LEAR, and it's a joy to see him flex his legit stage acting chops. He's simply fantastic, simultaneously classy, chilling, and dryly hilarious as Lionheart, and though the character is insane and homicidal, I could not help but root for him to achieve his goals against his critics, whom are a pack of arrogant and pretentious assholes.  

 

Lionheart, in disguise as flamboyant hairdresser "Butch."

As per the works of Willy S., we are treated to a multiple stabbing, a spear impalement, 

 

decapitation, 

 

a pound of flesh extracted (a heart removed steaming from the victim's chest), 

 

drowning an a wine barrel, a sword fight, the orchestrated strangling of a wife by her jealous husband, electrocution to replicate the immolation of Joan of Arc,  force-feeding, 

 

and more. Played totally straight, it's all the blackest of black comedy and it is glorious, especially if you happen to be a Shakespeare nerd.

The entire cast is game, and the ever-classy Diana Rigg tackles the role of Lionheart's equally-Shakespearean daughter with gusto, spending much of the movie unrecognizable in drag in order to throw the authorities off of suspecting her as being her father's accomplice as the body count escalates.

 Diana Rigg.

 

As is no doubt readily apparent, I love THEATRE OF BLOOD and I cannot recommend it highly enough. Price was clearly having the time of his life, and his sense of fun is downright infectious. A must-watch.

Poster for the theatrical release.