Most of you will have likely picked up on the abbreviated version of the quotation utilized above as the title. . . a reference to the seminal Eagles song ‘Hotel California’, which, in many ways, could be the title track of Luis Buñuel’s 1962 fantastical dramedy The Exterminating Angel. To further my point, look for the italicized text throughout the review, as it will be part of the classic rock tune. From the mind of the master of surrealism comes this, just another one of his mind-benders, a tale that follows a group of extravagant people who come together for a lavish dinner party. And, though the mansion is such a lovely place, the servants who have worked there obediently for many years almost instinctively decide to depart (despite their duties), as the guests arrive. Only the major-domo, that is, the head servant of the household, stays to help.

Uniting a superlative film noir cast, 1946's The Strange Love of Martha Ivers, directed by Lewis Milestone (a two time Academy Award winner, one of which he earned for All Quiet on the Western Front), begins with a triumvirate of childhood friends witnessing a crime which forges a unique bond between them, it informing their respective directions into adulthood. Building off of her performance in Double Indemnity two years earlier, Barbara Stanwyck, playing the title character, once again proves why she is one of the all-time great femme fatales. . . a calm, controlled, ruthless Machiavellian puppet master, she not only pulls the strings of her weak and feeble alcoholic husband Walter O’Neil (Kirk Douglas in his first film role – and against type from what we would later know) – who truly loves her, but she also has a manipulative control over the entire city in which she lives – owner of the plant that gives its people their jobs, the police that protect it (thanks to her husband, who is the district attorney), and everything else in between.

Talk about an opening hook: “This is the true story of a man and a gun and a car. The gun belonged to the man. The car might have been yours – or that young couple across the aisle. What you will see in the next seventy minutes could have happened to you. For the facts are actual.” A perfect film noir introduction, the 1953 crime thriller The Hitch-Hiker, co-written and directed by Ida Lupino, is a seventy-one minute ride down a road you most definitely would not want to travel. In a simpler time (when people still picked up hitch-hikers), Emmett Myers (William Talman – best known as District Attorney Hamilton Burger on Perry Mason) utilizes this mode of transportation to evade the police. . . murdering those kind enough to pick him up. Dumping the body (or bodies) and abandoning the car, his thumb then goes up as he plays the stranded traveller – his two newest would-be-victims are Roy Collins (Edmond O’Brien – D.O.A.; White Heat) and Gilbert Bowen (Frank Lovejoy – In a Lonely Place; House of Wax).

Though most will immediately connect the name John Carpenter with iconic director, many do not know that the legendary filmmaker is also the composer of most of his works – think The Fog, Escape from New York, Halloween (considered one of the greatest horror scores of all-time) and so many others. So, when it was announced that Carpenter would be doing a North American concert tour called “Anthology” – the title of his new album, needless to say, it was on my radar. Carpenter visited the M Telus ampitheatre (formerly the Metropolis) in Montreal this past Monday, the 13th of November, and, as you likely guessed, I was there. Fusing horror motifs, synthesizers, and stadium-sized rock n roll together, it was a powerful, emotive night led by the maestro himself. Rearranging each of his memorable scores into approximately four minute segments, the music alone brought the sold out, movie-crazy crowd back to the first time they experienced one of his films – though a montage of each movie’s greatest hits was projected onto a multi-angled screen behind the band. His son, Cody Carpenter (playing lead synthesizer), and lead guitarist/godson Daniel Davies (son of The Kinks’ rock legend Dave Davies), accompanied him both on the album and live, while, also on stage was drummer Scott Seiver, rhythm guitarist John Konesky and bassist John Spiker (all three also played a part in the making of the album).

There is something alluring about ghost tales being told in the darkness of the night. . . the way in which John Carpenter’s 1980 horror thriller The Fog opens – with a grizzled seafarer (John Houseman) recounting (to a group of wide-eyed children) the story of a ship of sailors who died in a horrific manner off of the coast of their small town one hundred years earlier. Building off of the success of his hit from two years earlier, Halloween, Carpenter once again shows his skills at developing an immersive world – this time creating a realistic ocean-side town packed with intriguing personas (in both films, he does so with a very limited budget). The locale, Antonio Bay, California, is celebrating its one hundredth anniversary, something the townsfolk are very proud of, especially Kathy Williams (Janet Leigh), one of the organizers of the festivities.

Talk about a hook of an opener – an extended tracking shot follows a man from behind as he enters a police station to report a murder. . . his own, and, rather interestingly, it seems as though the detectives were waiting for him. The man – Frank Bigelow (Edmond O’Brien); the film noir, D.O.A., a 1949 mystery directed by Rudolph Maté (a man who made several quality movies, though is better known for his superlative work as a cinematographer – think of Carl Theodor Dreyer’s two silent masterpieces The Passion of Joan of Arc and Vampyr, or later, Alfred Hitchcock’s Foreign Correspondent, Ernst Lubitsch’s To Be or Not to Be and Charles Vidor’s Gilda). Bigelow narrates his story to the men, transporting us back to the beginning of the tale.