Unwelcome Caller

When given a specific set of instructions, it is always best to follow them. . . after all, Ikea furniture can look pretty daunting if you’re missing that annoying Allen key and have to improvise. But, as horrific as the above scenario might sound, of course I’m actually talking about horror movies – specifically, a hair-raising four minute short film called Latch (2017), written and directed by Landon Stahmer. It all starts off simple enough – here are the instructions: “Hold out the match and say ‘show me the light or leave me in the darkness’. . . If you hear something, turn away, light the match and wait. DON’T LOOK BACK. . . but if you look, you might see something looking back at you”. A somewhat typical game teens might play late into the night during a sleep over, our girl receiving said instructions is Sofia (Sarah Bartholomew), a prototypical ‘I’m not scared of anything’ kind of teen. . . her brother, Daniel (Brandon Johnston), the one seemingly trying to spook her. But we know better, there is no Narnia in the wardrobe she is entering, but rather, she is playing with some sort of folkloric ritual.

One of the most infamous horror films of all-time, 1932's Freaks can arguably be called the most daunting watch of the pre-Code era. Transporting the viewer inside the private part of the very public lives of a Great Depression era traveling circus, the film is populated by only a few professional actors, most of the cast featuring sideshow performers with real disabilities. So controversial was it that negative test screenings forced the MGM studio execs to edit out some of its more disturbing elements, chopping twenty-six minutes of its (at that time) ninety minute runtime – the original cut has sadly been lost. Further adding to its dark mystique, the picture’s director, Tod Browning, fresh off of the success of his gargantuan hit of the previous year, Dracula, was able to choose the project he wanted (and he, in retrospect, made the wrong choice with this unusual horror drama with romantic tinges). So repulsed were some critics, sections of America (and the world), as well as Hollywood elites, that it brought forth the end of his career at the prime age of fifty-two.

A rare example of a remake done right, 2020's The Invisible Man, written and directed by Leigh Whannell, takes the general idea from the 1933 classic (as well as the 1897 novel by H.G. Wells) and updates it for the twenty-first century, never going too far, giving it a crisp, claustrophobic feeling. Stuck in a violent, psychologically draining relationship, we are dropped right into the troubled life of Cecilia Kass (Elisabeth Moss), a woman who is trapped under the all-controlling dome of tech wiz millionaire Adrian Griffin (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) – who has hit it big in the field of optics. Disturbingly controlling, his abode, like the overall story, has been updated for the twenty-first century – instead of a gothic castle full of secret passages and torches, it is a sleek, ultra modern, hyper reflective open floor-plan mansion teetering on the edge of the ocean. . . with all of the technology needed to keep the outside world at bay (and the inside guests trapped).

If you were ever to create a list of unsafe places to travel, it is unlikely that Sweden would even make it anywhere near that piece of paper, or tech device – for those more modern individuals. Though after watching 2019's Midsommar, written and directed by Ari Aster (who exploded onto the scene with 2018's Hereditary), some people might be reconsidering the stunning Scandinavian country. A slow burner of a dark horror mystery fairytale in the vein of The Wicker Man (preferably the 1973 vehicle starring Christopher Lee rather than the 2006 remake with Nicholas Cage), this narrative starts off in a pretty dark and depressing way. Let’s just say that Dani (Florence Pugh – Little Women), who is in her early twenties, becomes orphaned in the blink of an eye.

Of course, it is a good rule of thumb to never fool around with any zombies – after all, they can really make a mess of your pristine clothing – not to mention the whole ‘eating you’ thing. But here is something you perhaps didn’t know. . . the worst zombie of all – the ancient Etruscan. A gonzo, go for broke, grindhouse motion picture out of Italy, 1981's Burial Ground, directed by Andrea Bianchi (a wildcard, edgy film maker if there ever was one), is not for the faint of heart. Set in a stunning, if slightly shabby country villa (beautifully shot on location), a group of people have the misfortune of having been invited to celebrate a professor’s exciting new discovery. . . only problem, by the time they all arrive, the scientific mind (Raimondo Barbieri), has already been ripped to shreds by these walking dead Etruscans – you don’t have to worry too much, the prof’s fashion sense wasn’t very good.

A bizarre, below B grade indie horror/sci-fi/teen sex comedy hybrid, 1985's Evils of the Night, co-written and directed by Mardi Rustam, attempts to bring in the most popular genre films of the decade – think a combination of Friday the 13th, The Thing, and Revenge of the Nerds (minus the nerds), making for a surprisingly entertaining, if poor film (that all revolves around a battle of the ages – notice I used the word ‘of’ instead of ‘for’). An overly excessive, gloriously pushed to the brink example of the 80s indie horror scene, you’ll see more legs and breasts than in a family size bucket of KFC chicken, more hair than a twenty-four pack of Busch beer, and, as it is mostly set in a picturesque forest, you’ll see more hardwood than softwood – if you catch my drift. Of course, I’m talking about the raucous teen party going on here, including some fetching young men and women – engaged couple Ron (Keith Fisher) and Heather (Bridget Holloman), as well as poor Brian (David Hawk), who endlessly struggles to win over ditzy blonde Connie (G.T. Taylor) and the slightly less ditzy Nancy (Karrie Emerson). Now, before you feel too sorry for the girls in regards to the nudity, for these young actresses, fear not – ringers, and by that, I mean pornstars (i.e. Amber Lynn, Crystal Breeze), were brought in for the edgier stuff.