Horror on Film, part 5: Slice, dice and mutilate

Let's talk about the slasher film. If you haven't delved beyond the obligatory American slasher films--I'm talking Friday the 13th, Nightmare On Elm Street, My Bloody Valentine, et al.--then you probably believe, as do most casual horror fans and critics alike, that Carpenter's Halloween is the most noteworthy slasher film of all time.

You would be wrong.

In fact, by the time Carpenter's Halloween was released theatrically, a better slasher film had already been released in North America. Director Bob Clark, he of Porky's fame, in 1974 released Black Christmas to Canadian audiences. Black Christmas is a wonderful horror film, one of my favorites, and you should stick with the original, not the inane American remake (2006). Black Christmas is about an escaped lunatic who hides in a sorority house. Through a series of phone calls made to the girls in the house, we slowly understand the killer's enigmatic story. What I love is that there are no flashbacks, nor is anything explained. This killer just is. Black Christmas also features some funny bits and a wonderful performance by Margot Kidder as a mouthy sorority sister. John Saxon is strong as a frustrated police Lieutenant dealing with a doofus of a uniformed officer. This doofus of an officer may very well be related to the posters on the IMDB message board for Black Christmas, continuously saying they don't understand the film. I imagine these doofuses wouldn't deal particularly well with an Atom Egoyan film. In this blogger's modest opinion, Carpenter's Halloween gets way too much credit for its poignancy in the slasher genre, Clark's Black Christmas not nearly enough.

If you move further back in American horror film history, you encounter Hitchcock's brilliant Psycho (1960), based on the Robert Bloch novel of the same name. Norman Bates, the antagonist in both the print and film version of Psycho is based loosely--and I mean oh so loosely--on infamous Wisconsin serial killer, Ed Gein. If you want to read more about the ghoulish Ed Gein, check out his story on crimelibrary.com. In truth, Norman Bates is about as close to Gein as President Obama is to Ronald Reagan. About the only similarity is that both were serial killers with mother attachments. Bates, if he were truly a chip off the old block, would have had a house full of bones and body parts. That notwithstanding, Psycho is a masterpiece, and certainly influential in the genre. You can see Hitchcock's style and deft camera work bleeding into the material of Italian horror maestro, Dario Argento.

It was the Italians, after all, who carved the deepest incisions in the slasher genre.

The Giallo
The term has become synonymous with slasher films originating in Italy. The word literally means yellow, and it signifies the source of the giallo film--the pulp comics printed in the 1920's and 30's literally on yellow paper. It took some decades before the giallo came to the screen.

Mario Bava
Mario Bava's The Girl Who Knew Too Much (1963) is regarded as the first true giallo film. In 1964, Bava directed Blood and Black Lace, about a killing preying on lovely, young models (shame, shame). Many of Bava's films, in fact, featured beautiful women and lush colors. Bava's violent film, Twitch of the Death Nerve (1971), aka Bay of Blood, has a direct influence on many modern American slasher films, most notably Friday the 13th. If you've seen both films but don't recognize the similarities, you're flat out in denial.

Here are some other notable films by Mario Bava. I don't detail them here because they're not slasher films, but I have to mention them because they are absolutely brilliant.

• Black Sunday (1960) - great dual performance by sexy horror scream queen, Barbara Steele
• Black Sabbath (1963) - great anthology, and the first story, about the revenge taken on a thieving nurse by a dead woman, is alone worth the price of admission. Also starring Boris Karloff, he of Frankenstein's Monster fame

Dario Argento
By the 1970's, Dario Argento, Mario Bava's understudy, came to the forefront of the giallo. While the 1970's was a dry period for Vincent Price, Peter Cushing and other horror legends, it was a golden period of the giallo. If you consider yourself a fan of the horror film, but aren't familiar with these Italian films of the 1970's, I regret to inform you, darling, but you have some catching up to do.

There is just something different about the films of Dario Argento. Few of his films, if any, follow a linear, logical storyline. Experiencing his films is like a wakeful nightmare, the characters odd, the violence visceral and unflinching. In 1970, Argento directed his first film, The Bird With the Crystal Plumage. This is a nice, traditional giallo, and still holds up well today. The hard-working Argento released two more features in 1971, with The Cat o' Nine Tails and Four Flies on Grey Velvet. Neither film is a masterpiece, both both show glimpses of Argento's potential as a filmmaker. In 1975, he directed Deep Red (aka Profondo Rosso), considered by many of his fans to be his greatest achievement as a director. I'm undecided whether Deep Red is my favorite, but it's a brilliant horror film with some creative death scenes and a twisting, turning plot.

Starting with Deep Red, Argento would direct four consecutive films often considered to be the highest achievements on his resume. In 1977, Suspiria, Argento's most famous film, was released. Suspiria is not a giallo in the truest sense, but it has enough giallo elements to make it worth mentioning. Suspiria, the story of an American who attends a Swiss dance academy run by witches, is an intriguing, surreal film with one of the best opening murder scenes in cinematic history. Suspiria was the first of Argento's Three Mother's Trilogy, a trilogy which wouldn't see completion until 2007. In 1980, three years after Suspiria, Inferno was released. Inferno is the second film in the Three Mother's Trilogy, and is about a force of evil spanning from Rome to New York. Inferno is even less of a giallo than Suspiria, but it's a brilliant supernatural film, and perhaps my favorite Dario Argento film. Inferno is truly a nightmare caught on film.

In 1980, Argento returned to his giallo roots with Tenebrae. This is easily one of the best Argento films, features insane camera angles, a pulsating soundtrack and stunning violence. The final murder scene is certainly one of the most violent ever put on film and must have enraged critics in 1980. Tenebrae was released in the U.S. in butchered format under the title of Unsane, but it's since been restored to uncut glory under its original name.

It wouldn't be inaccurate to say that Argento's career started to bottom out at that point, but I think Phenomena (1985) and Opera (1987) are both fine horror films. I also adore The Mother of Tears (2007), the last Three Mother's film, despite some criticism by both fans and critics.

Lucio Fulci
Lucio Fulci, the grand poobah of gore, has made films in a variety of genres, most notably horror. A more experimental filmmaker has probably not existed. Fulci has made spaghetti westerns, zombie flicks (including his wonderful Zombie, aka Zombi 2, aka Zombie Flesheaters), and he also made some fine giallos. His most notable film in the subgenre, at least in my opinion, is Una lucertola con la pelle di donna, aka Lizard in a Woman's Skin (1972). This is a fast-moving film with a twisting, turning plot, and although not as gory as some his other work, as satisfying a film as Fulci has ever made. The following year, Fulci, getting into the act like Dario Argento, directed Don't Torture a Duckling, another fine effort. From there, Fulci really ventured into the supernatural. Ten years after Duckling, he would return to the giallo with New York Ripper, and extremely gory and sadistic film. 


Fulci has made too many noteworthy films to mention here, and they really run the gamut from pure slasher films to zombie and supernatural films--and even a few spaghetti westerns. Fulci's material was typically extreme, both in terms of violence and sex, and the faint of heart would probably not "get him."


The Others
Umberto Lenzi, Sergio Martino, Ruggero Deodato, Lamberto Bava (Mario's son), Pupi Avati and other Italian directors got into the giallo business. Pupi Avati's House With Laughing Windows (1976) is one of my all-time favorite giallos, about an artist, hired to restore some ancient paintings and stumbling into a towns ancient secrets.


The Americans Rush to the Show
They did ... eventually. But, you see, there were already dozens and dozens and dozens of slasher films already made when Carpeter was credited with pioneering the genre with Halloween (1978). Carpenter, to be honest, didn't pioneer much of anything at all; he took the ideas of Hitchcock and the Italian directors and, to his credit, introduced this style of filmmaking to American audiences. Halloween was a really good film, but unfortunately, it probably did more harm to the genre than good; in the years that followed, filmmakers would ignore Halloween's clever techniques, including its filming and its soundtrack. What lesser directors took away from Halloween, unfortunately, was its killer, a fellow who didn't want to die. And nor did Jason of Friday the 13th fame want to die, and nor would Freddie Krueger want to die. This style of film--the American slasher--would become a staple in the genre. Sex-crazed teenagers were murdered one of a time in creative ways--and sometimes not-so-creative ways. 

Horror on Film, part 4: The Zombie Apocalypse

Oh, those shambling zombies. So lovable, aren't they. We can divide zombies on film into roughly two periods, B.G. and A.G. The G in both cases stands for George, as in Mr. Romero, whom, in 1968, influenced heavily by Richard Matheson's novel I Am Legend, put his stamp on a genre, so made it his own, that he's a sure-fire horror hall-of-famer. A.G., starting with Mr. Romero's groundbreaking Night of the Living Dead(1968) created the shambling, rotting creature we all know and love.

Before George (1932 - 1968)
Before George there was no light. Only darkness. Just kidding. Well, things were decidedly different before Romero's NotLD. Zombies were animated by black magic. In 1932, horror legend Bela Lugosi played a diabolical voodoo priest in Haiti who had his own platoon of the dead. The name of this film was White Zombie, and yes, you guessed it--Rob Zombie likes this film. Lugosi's dead were mostly cheap labor. They also provided cheap labor in films which followed White Zombie, including King of the Zombies, Revolt of the Zombies and Revenge of the Zombies.

One of my favorite films from this period is I Walked With a Zombie (1943). In its truest sense, I Walked is a pure horror film more than a zombie film, but it still featured the black magic-animated dead customary for the period. Val Lewton, low-budger producer extraordinaire, produced the film for RKO pictures. A true classic.

Move ahead twenty years where Vincent Price plays the lead in Last Man on Earth (1964), the first film adaptation of Matheson's I Am Legend. The creatures in Last Man were vampires, not zombies, but both the novel and the film were influential on Romero when he would release his momentous Night of the Living Dead.

After George (1968 - present)
IF you haven't seen the original Night of the Living Dead (1968), your zombie gene is deeply deprived. There's nothing more for me to say about the film which hasn't been said; from the black and white filming, to the razor sharp ending, which juxtaposes men and monsters. Night is not a gory, nor even a particularly violent film, but it's infinitely watchable, even now. There's just something earnestly alluring about this film. One of the great American horror films, IMO. Moreover, Night was filmed in two locations which are in close proximity to my home. One of which, Livermore Cemetery, namesake of the now defunct town, flooded by the building the the Conemaugh Dam.

Some clumsy attempts to utilize Romero's slow-walking dead appeared early in the 1970's, but it was Europe which took advantage of Romero's invention. Tombs of the Blind Dead (1971) is a wonderfully atmospheric film in which the nasties were really zombies, but Knights Templar raised from the dead. In 1974, Let Sleeping Corpses Lie shows an English countryside overwhelmed by zombies.

Romero was busy as well. In 1978, he created Dawn of the Dead, the sequel to Night. Dawn raised a lot of eyebrows at the time for its explicit gore at the time. Dawn is a revered film even today, but in this writer's opinion, Dawn is more notable for its central message more than its actual execution. Dawn is a ponderously long film, and you will notice, by today's standards, the makeup and effects in Dawn are not particularly good--the result of budgetary constraints. Romero's social commentary, as with Night, is razor sharp; Dawn is essentially about a new society cannibalizing an existing society. One of his central motifs is consumerism, and this stands up well today, in our shallow, cell-phone-pasted-to-face society.

The best thing Dawn gave us, aside from the social commentary, was an unofficial sequel. In 1979, Lucio Fulci's Zombie was released. This is a notable film for a number of reasons. For one, the fun quotient may be the highest ever in the zombie genre. Second of all, Fulci, himself working under the constraints of a low budget, managed to outstrip the makeup and gore in Dawn, taking things to a new level.

Let's talking about the name of this film. If you're from the U.S., you most likely know this film simply as Zombie. People overseas have seen the names Zombi 2 (Italy) and Zombie-Flesheaters (England). Why so many names? Well, it's complicated, you could say. Romero's Dawn of the Dead, when it was released in Italy, took the name "Zombi". Thus, when Fulci's masterpiece came along, it took the name Zombi 2. In other countries, of course, it fell under different names. The resemblance between Dawn of the Dead and Zombie is rudimentary at best; Zombi goes in its own direction, using the age-old black magic like the earliest zombie films, to animate the dead. Zombie, as is typical of the work of Lucio Fulci, is violent and over the top. Who can't love a film featuring an underwater fight between a shark and a zombie? And who can't love that special Fulci eye moment? The makeup is some of the best I've seen in a zombie film. These zombies truly look, well, dead.

I don't care what the hell others say. Zombie is an absolute masterpiece of splatter cinema. Definitely not for the faint of heart, though; if you're squeamish, avoid this film like the zombie plague.

The 1980's brought some gems to the genre, starting with Dead and Buried (1981), which is kind of a true zombie film, and kind of isn't. But, it's a fun, traditional horror films, and one of my favorites. The famous Evil Dead followed in 1982, but again, I'm not sure this is a true zombie film--just a hell of a lot of fun. 1985 brought the zombie comedy, ever ascending fun quotient called Return of the Living Dead. 1987 offered Evil Dead II, 1988 The Dead Next Door--and we've bypassed one very important film.

In 1985, George Romero followed up with his third zombie film, Day of the Dead. What George Romero's opinion of this film is now, I don't know, especially given that it turned out not to be the film he wanted--oh, those pesky budgetary constraints. My opinion of Day, however is quite clear: Day of the Dead is the greatest zombie film of all time. It also happens to be one of the best American horror films of all time. If you saw Day of the Dead the first time and hated it, watch it again. That very phenomenon happened to me; hate turned to love during my second film. Maybe the reason for this is that Day is a particularly angry film; the survivors are going crazy trapped together in a military bunker. The military loathe the scientists and vice versa. And somewhere between it all is a crazy scientist the military affectionately call Frankenstein (you see, the doctor, not the monster) who has sort of a pet zombie (they call him Bub) who can remember bits and pieces of his past life as a human. Day of the Dead is an inventive and dark nihilistic film which features some of the best gore effects ever seen on film (remember, Hollywood, when we did things the old fashioned way, when we didn't resort to those fake-looking CGI effects which completely fail when simulating human/humanoid creatures? Remember that, hmm?)

Okay, and then after Day, we went into the nineties, and we hit 2000 and more zombie films came and more came and more came. Wait, can't we talk about Day of the Dead some more?

Okay, look, there were a few notables films in the 1990's. Braindead, aka Dead Alive was the effort of Peter Jackson, he of Lord of the Rings Fame, and a film made long before Jackson had begun having masturbatory fantasies about adding more CGI to his films. Dead Alive is really good, actually, and has the feel of an over-the-top gore comedy. The other notable film in this decade is Cemetery Man, aka Dellamorte Dellamore, one of my personal favorites, and sort of a comedy/fantasy/horror film with the deliciously lovely Anna Falchi (come to pappa) and an ending that ... well, you have to see this film.

The 2000's brought some honorable shambling dead including three more films from George Romero, Land of the Dead (2005), Diary of the Dead (2007) and Survival of the Dead (2009). I regret to inform my readers that Mr. Romero's best days may be behind him. Sorry, George, but Land does nothing for me. Good cast, decent story, but it felt as though you were just going through the motions. It doesn't feel as though the characters in Land are ever in serious jeopardy--certainly not like it did in Night, Dawn and Day. Diary of the Dead was marginally better. I actually found it to be somewhat creative, but Day of the Dead it isn't (it seems that, for Romero, the zombie has become an excuse for social commentary). I haven't seen Survival yet, but the initial reports don't look promising, but you know what they say: there's no accounting for taste.

In 2004, we saw Dawn of the Dead, a remake of the original. I must say, I love this film--I actually prefer it to the original (at least we don't have to look at green skin bleeding purple blood; yikes, what truly bad special effects those were; sorry, George). 2004 also offered the effective horror/comedy, Shaun of the Dead. I love this film. This decade also offered 28 Days Later and its sequel, 28 Weeks Later. I've seen 28 Days Later, and I must say, it's a blind spot for me; I don't get the praise. I actually prefer the Aussie film, Undead (2003), which I believe is underrated. Fido (2006) is an interesting film, though it's more social satire than horror film.

So, despite the popularity of the zombie in modern culture, there haven't exactly been a plethora of great zombie films (though there are a plethora of really, really bad zombie films, none of which are mentioned in this blog, are they, Bruno Mattei?)

What will the future bring? Hopefully a film version of Max Brooks's World War Z. The project is scheduled for completion in 2012, but who knows? How they bring a novel of that detail and complexity to film, I don't know. Brooks, unfortunately, doesn't have a creative voice in the project. The original script, leaked on the Internet and called brilliant by those who read it, has been rewritten. If it was that brilliant, why rewrite it? Brooks's novel is an astonishing work of genius and detail, taking the zombie to place I never thought he'd go. Maybe we'll get a film to match, but I'm incredulous. I predict another shallow, CGI-riddled, Hollywood wankfest.

No matter, we still have Day of the Dead (1985). They've just released a special edition blue ray with 100 hours of extras (well, not that many, but a lot). I have to get myself a blue ray player just for that film. I love you, Bub and Frankenstein.

Horror on Film, part 3: A New Horror Icon

There are few famous people I revere as much as the late, great Vincent Price. Mr. Price was more than just an actor. He was an art collector, a great cook, iconic personality and philanthropist. His voice is as famous as his distinctive face (nice portrait on deviantart.com.). Of the famous people, living and dead, I would choose to meet, Vincent Price would be in the top five. A cursory glance at Vincent Price's resume on IMDB.com indicates that Mr. Price participated in 185 films and television series, voice or otherwise, over a period of more than fifty years. He became famous for portraying villainous characters, particular in horror films. Price could be sinister, deft and swank, often at the same moment.

Mr. Price began his career as an actor in 1938. It was in Laura (1944) that he began attracting the attention of filmmakers. By this point, however, Price had already forayed into horror with Tower of London (1939), The Invisible Man Returns (1940) and House of the Seven Gables (1940).  Mr. Price would spend the rest of the forties playing mostly in film noirs (another genre your host passionately loves).

In the 1950's, Vincent Price became the horror icon he is known as today. His first signature role in a horror film came in 1953, when the played the lead in House of Wax. The film, according to wikipedia, was the first 3-D film to crack the year's top ten in the North American box office. That aside, House of Wax is an exceptional film, one of my favorites, and stands up well today. Price plays a gentle wax museum curator, who, after his partner double crosses him, delivering horrific burns, turns to the evil--and decides to create wax exhibits of a different kind.

Later in the decade, Price played in The Fly (1958) and House on Haunted Hill (1959), both excellent horror films which would be remade decades after the originals. His role in Haunted Hill is particularly notable, as he plays an amiable and eccentric millionaire with a cavalier attitude toward others.

In the 1960's, Price did a lot of work with producer/director Roger Corman, starring in a number of films based on the work of Edgar Allen Poe:  House of Usher (1960), The Pit and the Pendulum (1961), Tales of Terror (1962), The Comedy of Terrors (1963) The Raven (1963), The Masque of the Red Death (1964) andThe Tomb of Ligeia (1965). All are excellent films, well worth seeing. I particularly like Usher, Raven and Comedy of Terror, the latter the black comedy pairing of Price and Peter Lorre.

In 1964, Price played the lead in The Last Man on Earth, which is based on Richard Matheson's influential novel, "I Am Legend." This film is notable for a number of reasons. For one thing, Price stepped out of his comfort zone and played the hero. Secondly, Legend was a huge influence for George Romero's Night of the Living Dead (1968)--as was Last Man on Earth.

In 1968, Price played one of my favorite roles of his, as the lead in Witchfinder General. Though Price was always charismatic on screen, even in villainous roles--I thank you, Mr. Price, for my deep admiration for villains--the character he portrays in Witchfinder is one of the nastiest I've ever seen on film. There is just nothing redeeming about him, which I still think is great (we can't sympathize with all villains). It also shows a lot of range to portray a person so deeply cold and nasty (no doubt the concordant opposite to Vincent Price's true nature). Witchfinder, for its time, ruffled a lot of feathers.

The seventies saw two more of his great, villainous roles in The Abominable Dr. Phibes (1971) and The Theater of Blood (1973). Both are fun, creative horror films, the former about a man, scarred by an accident, who takes revenge on the doctors he blames for his wife's death. In Theater, Price plays a shunned stage actor who takes revenge on his critics. Horror having dried up in the seventies, Price shifted his focus to television, radio and the stage.

In 1982, Price did a voice part in Michael Jackson's Thriller. A year later, he starred with Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing and John Carradine in House of the Long Shadows. It was the first time all four horror legends had appeared together in the same film (Price had worked with each of the men separately in the past). By 1992, Price's failing health, the result of smoking and Parkinson's disease, restricted his role in Edward Scissorhands to a minor part (definitely not director Tim Burton's original intention). In 1993, Vincent Price died of lung cancer.

Price was a graduate of Yale, a major in art history. He was an art collector over the years, and contributed a number of works to a college in California. He was also a gourmet chef, authoring several cookbooks.

Above all, Price was a legend in horror. He transcended horror, and in the sixties and seventies, became a true celebrity. Has there ever been, or will there ever be a more poignant presence in the horror genre? Probably not. A lot of greats have come and gone, but Price accomplished more in his career than anyone else in the history of horror film. Really, you should see every film mentioned. If you haven't already.

Horror on Film, part 2: Monsters Resurrected, new legends are born

Before we continue to the next display, allow me to tie up some loose ends. How are those chicken wings, young one? Mum, may I refill her cranberry punch? No, well, understood. We wouldn't want those lovely fangs to decay.

Universal wasn't the only studio enjoying the early horror craze. Tod Browning, who directed Dracula, also directed two notable non-Universal films in this period: Freaks (1932) and The Devil-Doll (1936). Let me tell, you dearie, if you haven't seen Mr. Browning's Freaks, do yourself a favor and get to that one as quickly as possible. Freaks was especially shocking for its time, featuring real carnival freaks in the cast, and the ending packs one hell of an impact--especially the first time you've seen it. The Devil-Doll is a hell of a lot of fun, and probably an influential film for the sci-fi craze in the 1950's.

The excellent Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933), which would be remade in the 1950's with horror icon Vincent Price in the lead role (more on that later).

I'll also mention a few others from the 1930's. Paramount's exceptional Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde with an astounding performance by Fredric March in a dual role. Jekyll and Hyde, to this day--and not just the films but the novel as well--is an astounding commentary on the duality of the human creature.

In the 1940's, Val Lewton produced a series of low-budget horror films for RKO pictures, the most notable of which were Cat People (1942), I Walked With a Zombie (1943) and The Seventh Victim (1943). Oh, Seventh Victim, how many ways I do love thee. But, I digress. The named film, like the excellent Black Cat (1932), had a noirish atmosphere to it, and felt almost a precursor to Rosemary's Baby.

The Ghoul (1933), a vehicle for Englishman Boris Karloff, is regarded as England's first speaking horror film--and the first to receive the dreaded H-rating from Britain's film rating system. "H" meant horrific; horror, in the mind of Brits, oughtn't to be too horrific, and The Ghoul apparently was. In 1945, England produced the excellent horror anthology, Dead of Night. Each of the stories is quite good, as is the clever central narration, but the last segment, about a wooden dummy with a life of its own, is worth the price of admission. Dead of Night is another of my personal favorites. I shall have to get around to listing them on the blog one of these days. What do you mean, young one, haven't been taking notes?

By the 1950's, Britain's Hammer Studios had become a huge staple in the horror genre. The Curse of Frankenstein (1957) established the traditions of Hammer studios: lush color, deliciously gothic atmosphere and blood like no other studio had shown before. Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee, in the roles as doctor and his monster, respectively, would become horror legends. A year later, Hammer would release Dracula (also known in U.S. as The Horror of Dracula, and almost universally now as Hammer's Dracula). Lee played the count not as a charming human with a dark side, but as a monster--and you get the feeling from watching Lee's performance that the human side of the count, what little there is, is just a pretense. Lee's Dracula was all about primordial savagery.

Step this way, folks. Let's move to our next exhibit: another horror film legend.

Horror on Film, part 1: the classics

Welcome. Come inside. Stand beside the fire and warm yourself. Go into the adjacent room if you'd like a refreshment. This, my friends, is the virtual museum of horror films. There are no pictures to be found, no theatrical posters. Only you and me and your imagination. If you have one. If I've written well enough to encourage you to be imaginative. Well, before I destroy the grand illusion, step inside. Don't be afraid. Have a drink if you'd like. And when you're down, we'll take a walk. Our first exhibit, this curtain and cobweb infested corner with a blazing hearth, is dedicated to classic horror films.

Long before Hitchcock's Psycho happened along--let alone The Exorcist, Carpenter's Halloween, or the Saw series, heaven help us--there were classic films that established roots in the genre. The earliest of these were the German Expressionist films such as The Golem and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari.

Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) deserves special notice, IMO, because it was a groundbreaking film. A silent classic, Caligari established a tone of surreal horror and perhaps the first twist ending recorded on film. Caligari predates sound on film. I know, I know. You hate silent films. They're boring. Well, I'm proud to inform you that Caligari isn't boring. It clocks in at just over an hour, and is an exercise in surreal horror. Caligari himself is a doctor who arrives at a local fair and applies for a permit to put on his own exhibit: a somnambulist he controls. That somnambulist, I tell you, is one of the creepiest critters, human or otherwise, I've ever seen on film. In addition to his terminal sleep, the somnambulist can wake by command of Caligari and predict the future. If you think his predictions are ominous, then you've hit the nail on the head.

The sets for Caligari, designed by artists and looking nothing like reality, help to paint an atmosphere of dread. Caligari is the closest thing to a nightmare I've ever seen on film. Reality ends long before the opening credits roll.

A history of horror wouldn't be complete, though, if we didn't also mention Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, released the same year, 1920, as the Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. This was the film film version of the Robert Louis Stevenson Classic, and a Tour de Force for actor John Barrymore, who didn't have the benefit of sound to augment his performance. Both the Barrymore and Frederic March version (1931) are excellent, and you should see both. Unquestionably.

As the Germans were spinning their surreal, expressionist tales, the horror film had established itself in the United States in 1923, with The Hunchback of Notre Dame, starring pioneering makeup/performance artist Lon Chaney in the title role. Hunchback was so popular that in 1925, Chaney was given another title role, that of The Phantom of the Opera. Phantom, like Caligari, is one of my favorite horror films. Just a stunning work of genius. Another gem from this period is The Man Who Laughs (1928), especially notable for the lead performance by Conrad Veidt.

Universal, the studio behind these three American films, wouldn't really get its wheels fully turning until the 1930's. Universal featured classic monsters, and actors who quickly became staples in the horror genre: Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff. Lon Chaney, unfortunately, died in 1930. Universal made some notable films in this period, including Dracula and Frankenstein, both released in 1931. My favorite Universal films from this period:

• The Old, Dark House (1932)
• The Black Cat (1934)
• The Raven (1935)
• Bride of Frankenstein (1935)
• Dracula's Daughter (1936)

The Black Cat was directed by Edgar Ulmer, who did the expressionist set designs for The Golem, Fritz Lang's outstanding Metropolis (more sci-fi than horror, though) and M (1931), an early vehicle for Peter Lorre, playing a madman of the worst kind. Black Cat has a decidedly different atmosphere from most other Universal films of the period. Its noirish in its texture, and the story itself is an unusual and sublime vehicle for both Karloff and Lugosi.

By the 1940's, Universal were turning out sequels and remakes. 1941 also saw the highly regarded Wolf Man, featuring Lon Chaney, Jr. in the title role. My favorite Universal films from this period are The Wolf Man (1941) and--believe it or not--the excellent comedy, Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein (1948), which featured Lugosi as Dracula and Chaney, Jr. as the Wolf Man. Glenn Strange as Frankenstein's Monster (Okay, I have to say this. If you've been calling this creature "Frankenstein"--and you know who you are--then you've been doing it all wrong. Frankenstein, you see, was the doctor. His creation was Frankenstein's Monster. So, writer's, if you use the Frankenstein anology, do it correctly, please. Don't write they've created a Frankenstein. No. They've created a Frankenstein's Monster. End rant. So, if you tell me you're coming to my house dressed like "Frankenstein", I'll expect you to look like a mad scientist. You should not have bolts in your neck. Have I made my point yet?).

The 1950's, called a revival for Universal, featured Abbott and Costello in three different monster films, and it also produced the excellent Creature From the Black Lagoon (1954) and it's not-so-excellent sequels. By this time, however, two things had happened. England's Hammer Studios began releasing its own versions of the monster films--Dracula, the mummy and Frankenstein's monster (yes, those films are about the creature. The doctor is cool as well, but everyone just wanted to see the creature). And in the U.S., everyone was drunk on the notion of oversized bugs and alien invaders. The 1950's become the sci-fi, drive-in era.

So, that concludes the first part of our tour. Have some more refreshments. Cranberry juice and chicken wings. Has anyone tried the wings? Oh, go ahead, they're only meant to appear as severed human fingers. They're really chicken wings. I promise.