The Scare Salon

The year I turned thirteen was another great year for horror, and yet again, I have an equal number of honorable mentions as top five picks, making this technically a top ten. Oh well. My honorable mentions include:

The Bride: Loosely based on The Bride of Frankenstein (so, y’know, based on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein) and starring Sting, Jennifer Beals, and Clancy Brown, The Bride seemed like it was on cable several times a day in the late 80s, hence why I managed to see this thing several dozen times over the years. Critics and audiences were definitely not kind to it at the time of its release, and it was a box office bomb, but I always kinda dug it. It’s very gothic and overwrought, but there was something about its heaving trashiness that really appealed to me, and still does, as I watched it again recently and enjoyed it just as much.

Cat’s Eye: One of the better and probably more underrated Stephen King adaptations, this is also a solid anthology film featuring three of King’s short stories. The frame story involves a sweet, striped kitty cat who is apparently getting psychic visions of Drew Barrymore in distress (hey, we’ve all been there) and eventually works his way to her house by the third story, passing through the other two tales on the way. Said tales are “Quitters, Inc.,” about a clinic that’s REALLY serious about getting people to stop smoking; “The Ledge,” about a guy who crosses a crime boss and is forced to make his way around a very tall building on a teeny concrete ledge; and “General,” about the titular kitty cat fighting a really well-realized little goblin creature who is trying to steal Drew Barrymore’s breath (again, we’ve all been there). All the stories are entertaining and well-acted, with “The Ledge” in particular being pretty terrifying to someone (like me) who is scared of heights. I also love the “hero kitty” aspect of the final story as he matches wits with the creepy little goblin.

Phenomena: Not one of Dario Argento’s best films but definitely one of his more interesting, WTF ones, Phenomena (originally released as Creepers in the United States with twenty minutes cut out but later released as intended) is nominally a giallo film, but has a bunch of paranormal shit going on too. Jennifer Connelly plays an American teenager attending a remote boarding school in Switzerland who can telepathically communicate with insects, because why not. She becomes embroiled in an investigation into a run of murders committed by a necrophiliac serial killer, as her psychic link with insects (specifically flies/maggots) means she can help track the killer’s location. Donald Pleasence also stars as an entomologist who has a pet chimpanzee for some reason. The movie is kinda all over the place and doesn’t make a lot of sense, but it’s at least a somewhat original idea for a giallo, and Jennifer Connelly and Donald Pleasence are always worth watching.

Silver Bullet: Yet another Stephen King joint, this one was an adaptation of his 1983 novella Cycle of the Werewolf (which was released as a pretty kick-ass graphic novel). Corey Haim stars as a disabled boy in a town called Tarker’s Mills, Maine, who has a crazy uncle played by the irrepressible Gary Busey, whose drunken, irresponsible, but somehow charming batshittery is worth the price of admission alone. There’s also a werewolf chowing down the residents one by one, and even though it’s not much of a mystery as to who the werewolf is, this is a solid slice of cheesy 80s fun with some acceptably over the top performances and some decent gore effects.

The Stuff: Larry Cohen’s sci-fi horror parody is a delightful skewering of consumerism and food fads, a hilariously weird flick that has an absolute ball with its crazy premise. The titular substance begins bubbling out of the ground in a quarry, and after some of the workers taste it (because why wouldn’t you immediately start eating some random white goop that spewed out of the dirt), they discover it’s irresistibly delicious. A shady corporation (as if there’s any other kind, especially in 80s movies) starts selling and marketing the substance as The Stuff, a sort of calorie-free dessert akin to yogurt that also happens to not only be addictive, but is actually a living alien organism that takes over the brains of those who eat it. It’s up to industrial saboteur Mo Rutherford (played by the awesome Michael Moriarty) and bitter, broke junk food businessman Chocolate Chip Charlie Hobbs (played by the equally awesome Garrett Morris) to warn the public about The Stuff before it’s too late.

And now, on to the main event.

Day of the Dead

Although this is my (and most people’s) least favorite of George A. Romero’s original Dead trilogy, it’s still pretty rad, and has some of the best gore gags of the entire series, in my humble opinion. Plus it’s got Bub! What else do you need?

Set seven years after Dawn of the Dead, the world in the meantime has gone to shit. Zombies have ravaged humanity, and a ragtag group of survivors is holed up in an underground bunker in the Florida Everglades. Being a Florida native myself, I’m not entirely sure how feasible a bunker would be under a swamp (pretty much all of Florida is right smack at sea level, if you didn’t know), but as I’m neither a structural engineer nor in the midst of a zombie apocalypse, I’ll give it a pass.

Anyway, our cast of potential zombie hors d’oeuvres includes Sarah (Lori Cardille), a scientist who’s way too sensible for this shit; John aka Flyboy (Terry Alexander), a chill helicopter pilot who’d rather sip cocktails on a beach; and a passel of trigger-happy soldiers led by Captain Rhodes (Joseph Pilato), one of the most rabid assholes ever immortalized on film. They’re all stuck together, trying to figure out how to survive while zombies shuffle around outside like boomers waiting for Golden Corral to open.

There’s also Dr. Logan, aka “Frankenstein” (Richard Liberty), who’s obsessed with domesticating zombies. His star pupil is Bub (Sherman Howard), a friendly (ish) zombie who salutes, listens to music on a Walkman, and even tries to talk. This is all really adorable, until you remember he’d still eat your face off if given half the chance. Logan’s big plan is to train zombies to be less… bitey, which is a noble goal all things considered, but Rhodes and his goons think science is for nerds and would rather shoot everything that moves.

As you might expect, tensions between the two factions boil over pretty quickly, especially after Rhodes discovers that Logan has been feeding bits of his dead comrades to Bub as reinforcement for good behavior. Which, as big of a douchebag as Rhodes is, is still pretty fucked up. So Logan has gone full on bananapants, Rhodes has locked up and/or beaten anyone who isn’t going along with his agenda, and the zombies are just waiting for someone to leave the bunker door unlocked. Spoiler alert: someone does. Cue the requisite zombie invasion in which several people are gruesomely killed, and Rhodes in particular gets his delicious, amazingly disgusting comeuppance by being completely torn in half while hoarsely screaming, “Choke on ’em!” The “’em” in question, of course, being his glistening, delectable entrails.

Oh, and fun fact: almost all the guts you see sloshing out of Rhodes are real pig entrails, and effects master Tom Savini tells a wonderful story about the refrigerator where the entrails were stored losing power over the Christmas holiday. The cast was thus obliged to film the scene with menthol-soaked cotton balls up their noses because of the horrible smell. The sacrifices horror actors and crew members have to make just to entertain weirdos like me will never fail to be awe-inspiring.

Day of the Dead is a darkly funny mix of gore, existential dread, and humans being their own worst enemies. The special effects are spectacular (besides the Rhodes-getting-ripped-in-half gag, there’s also a fantastic sequence where an eviscerated zombie rolls over on a gurney and all his innards plop out), the vibe is satirical but grim and claustrophobically tense at the same time, and Bub is easily the most lovable, sympathetic character in the whole thing, rightfully becoming a minor horror icon.

Fright Night

I’ve already written a bit about Tom Holland’s directorial debut (and about its better-than-it-needed-to-be sequel), but let’s be honest: how could I not include one of the best vampire films of all time, not to mention one of the best horror comedies? I’ll try not to repeat myself, but I just love Fright Night so fucking much, and it’s a movie I never tire of revisiting.

Charley Brewster (William Ragsdale), a slightly dweeby but affable horror-obsessed high schooler, lives a perfectly normal suburban life with his single mom (Dorothy Fielding). He has a like-minded best friend called Evil Ed (Stephen Geoffreys) and a goody-two-shoes girlfriend named Amy (Amanda Bearse), whose high-waisted 80s pants he’s been trying (and failing) to get into.

Everything’s going along swimmingly until one night he notices his suave, handsome new neighbor, Jerry Dandrige (Chris Sarandon), sinking a disturbingly authentic-looking set of fangs into the throat of a beautiful young woman he’s brought home. Not long afterward, Charley sees Jerry and Jerry’s “roommate,” Billy Cole (Jonathan Stark), carrying a suspiciously corpse-shaped garbage bag out of the house and loading it into the back of their car. To his horror, Charley later sees the woman’s picture on the news after her body is found.

Charley tries to convince everyone that the new neighbor is a bona fide creature of the night, but they all think he’s just watched too many scary movies and is wildly overreacting. Desperate, Charley contacts a washed-up horror host named Peter Vincent (Roddy McDowall, who is an utter delight in this), whose local late night show he’s long been a fan of. Peter also thinks the kid is nuts and blows him off as an obsessed stalker, but Amy and Evil Ed grow so worried about Charley’s mental state that they bribe Peter into conducting a “vampire test” on Jerry to dissuade Charley from his seeming delusions.

Well, since Jerry actually IS a vampire, and eventually seduces and attempts to turn Amy, the gang has to sharpen their stakes and battle the bloodsucker before he kills them all, a particularly tall order for Peter Vincent, who despite his “vampire killer” TV persona, is a certified coward.

Fright Night boasts a flawless balance of horror, comedy, and genuine emotional stakes; all the characters are really endearing and play well off one another, with the chemistry being especially good between Charley and Peter. Jerry Dandrige is a fantastic villain, too: smooth, charming, and charismatic, but genuinely menacing and frightening at times. The special effects are also incredible, with standouts being Evil Ed’s wolf transformation scene and Amy’s grotesque vampire form. In short, everything about Fright Night is perfect and I wouldn’t change a single frame.

Lifeforce

Let me throw two phrases at you: “Tobe Hooper” and “naked space vampires.” If your interest isn’t piqued by that combination of words, I’m not sure we can be friends.

Based on Colin Wilson’s 1976 novel, bearing the on-the-nose title of The Space Vampires, Lifeforce was Hooper’s seventh film and the first one he directed after the massive success of 1982’s Poltergeist. It was pretty much eviscerated by critics and didn’t even make half its budget back, but as with many films of its ilk, it eventually went on to garner a much deserved cult following.

So we have a crew of British and American astronauts, led by the ruggedly optimistic Colonel Tom Carlsen (Steve Railsback), stumbling upon a derelict alien ship tucked away in Halley’s Comet. Inside, they find three humanoid corpses in glass coffins—two hunky dudes and one smoking hot and very naked lady, played by impossibly beautiful French actress/director Mathilda May. The crew decides, just for shits and giggles, to bring the napping nude people (as well as an alien bat creature) back to Earth with them. The space shuttle they were traveling in, called The Churchill, is gutted by fire, but Carlsen manages to return home alone in an escape pod, while the naked aliens’ coffins are recovered from the ruins of the shuttle.

As you might expect, the humanoids awaken in short order and start sucking the bioenergy (or “lifeforce,” one might say) from all and sundry. The special effects on the desiccated victims, by the way, look awesome, and have always been some of my favorite visuals from any 80s horror film.

We also discover that Carlsen somehow has a psychic link with the naked woman vampire (because…reasons), and that by the way, the vampires can also shapeshift and impersonate other people, which serves them well when they bust out of the facility they’re being housed in and start draining the residents of London left and right. Mathilda May accomplishes this entire rampage without putting on a stitch of clothing, which is one huge point in the movie’s favor, because hubba hubba. It all ends in a big fiery spectacle where the male vampires get killed and Carlsen eventually sacrifices himself to kill the female vampire in an energy explosion that blows out the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral.

Lifeforce is a deliriously bonkers flick that leans hard into the absurdity and is all the better for it, like an unhinged fever dream that just throws everything at the wall to see what sticks. It’s got exploding corpses, folks being chugged down to husks, copious nudity and gore, and Steve Railsback making out with Patrick Stewart. What’s not to love?

Re-Animator

Yet another film that I could watch a thousand times and never get sick of, Re-Animator is equal parts unhinged genius and utterly hilarious batshit insanity. Based very (very) loosely on H.P. Lovecraft’s 1922 novelette, “Herbert West–Reanimator,” this quintessential cult classic was directed by the amazing Stuart Gordon and features one of my longtime horror crushes, the inimitable Jeffrey Combs, who makes everything he’s in a million times better.

Combs plays Herbert West, a medical student who gets kicked out of the University of Zurich after bringing his dead professor back to life with a glowing green serum of his own invention. Not one to let one little botched resurrection cramp his style, he enrolls at Miskatonic University in Arkham, Massachusetts, with a view to continuing his work.

Once arriving, he rents a room from another medical student named Dan (Bruce Abbott), whose gorgeous girlfriend Megan (played by another of my horror crushes, Barbara Crampton) is the daughter of the dean of the university.

Soon enough, West has set up shop in the basement of the rental house, and though he’s clearly a total weirdo, Dan is reluctantly curious about what he’s up to down there. After West demonstrates his serum by bringing Dan’s dead cat back to life, Dan decides to help West in his experiments.

Because the university faculty isn’t on board with all this mad science mumbo jumbo, West and his sidekick are obliged to conduct their experiments on the down-low. But there’s good news and bad news: the good news is, the serum works like gangbusters. The bad news is, the corpses who get revived are just a touch aggro and usually have to be taken down with extreme prejudice, resulting in fountains and fountains of goopy, glorious gore.

Jeffrey Combs absolutely steals the show here with his condescending attitude and his stubborn single-mindedness, but the whole film just hangs together so well, both as a gross-out mad science horror and as a pitch black comedy. The special effects are outstanding, and some of the gags just have to be seen to be believed, such as the infamous sequence where a reanimated Dr. Hill (David Gale) uses his own severed head to attempt cunnilingus on a naked Barbara Crampton.

Re-Animator was, of course, followed by another Stuart Gordon-directed Lovecraft adaptation, 1986’s From Beyond (which will likely make an appearance on my next list), as well as two decent sequels, Bride of Re-Animator (1990) and Beyond Re-Animator (2003). Any horror hound who hasn’t seen at least the first Re-Animator has some serious catching up to do, as it’s pretty much universally beloved for a reason.

Return of the Living Dead

Nothing (directly) to do with George Romero’s Dead franchise (though it was based on John Russo’s sequel novel to Romero’s Night of the Living Dead), Return of the Living Dead was the directorial debut of genre stalwart Dan O’Bannon, probably best known for writing the screenplay for Alien. Like the aforementioned Re-Animator and Fright Night, Return is an unabashed horror comedy, an over-the-top zombie flick with a pronounced punk rock edge. It’s also the movie that introduced the concept of zombies specifically eating “BRAAAAINS!”

The plot kicks off when two bumbling warehouse workers, foreman Frank (James Karen) and new hire Freddy (Thom Mathews), accidentally crack open a canister of a mysterious military toxin that reanimates a convenient cadaver, transforming it into the iconic Tarman zombie (played by both Allan Trautman and Robert Bennett), so dubbed because of his dark, melted appearance.

Frank, Freddy, and their later-arriving boss Burt (Clu Gulager) manage to subdue the zombie and cut it into pieces, but not only do they discover that all the pieces can survive independently, but they’ve unwittingly released the toxic gas, Trioxin, into the surrounding area.

Meanwhile, a gang of 80s punk rockers with names like Spider (Miguel A. Núñez Jr.), Scuz (Brian Peck), and Suicide (Mark Venturini) are hanging out at a local cemetery, where their cohort Trash (played by horror darling Linnea Quigley) does a very naked dance on a tombstone. There’s a lot of naked ladies in this list, if you hadn’t noticed, but then again, the 80s was a very naked decade.

Long story short, corpses start crawling out of the ground and shambling all over the place, and unlike Romero-style zombies, these can run, talk, and plan ahead. One of the best sequences, in fact, is when a zombie horde has just dispatched a contingent of law enforcement officers who arrived at the scene, and one of the zombies uses the police radio in one of the cruisers to politely request, “Send more cops.”

The undead outbreak gets so bad that the US military calls down a nuclear strike on Louisville, Kentucky, where the warehouse and cemetery are located, pretty much wiping out all the characters. However, the nuke itself releases even more of the toxin into the atmosphere, making it fall as acid rain, thus setting up the excellent sequel (which came out in 1988), and the subsequent franchise, which at this writing totals five movies.

The Return of the Living Dead is like the Platonic ideal of an 80s horror comedy, shot through with seedy deathrock sensibilities. It’s wonderfully gooey and gross, it’s irreverent and sorta deranged, and has a kick-ass soundtrack featuring The Cramps, 45 Grave, T.S.O.L., and The Damned. It’s also fun as hell and is an absolute blast from start to finish.

Well, there’s 1985 wrapped up, so be sure to keep watching this space for whenever I get around to doing 1986. And remember to always keep it creepy, my friends.