Unwelcome Caller

With a locomotive that is Agatha Christie’s “Murder on the Orient Express”, passenger cars encompassing John W. Campbell’s “Who Goes There?” (the story that inspired both 1951's The Thing from Another World and 1982's The Thing), a luggage car that is packed to the brim with historical drama, and it all being coupled together by a combination of gothic and Hammer-style horror, 1972's Horror Express, directed by Eugenio Martín, is a suspenseful non-stop trip along the Trans-Siberian Railway. A hodgepodge that seemingly shouldn’t work (the third act even turns into something akin to a zombie movie), this Spanish export somehow melds a variety of genres together to develop an early 20th century set, sci-fi/horror inspired murder mystery with a gothic tinge – I know, quite a mouthful. Following Professor Sir Alexander Saxton (Christopher Lee), a tall mustachioed man with an undeniable presence, the world-renowned anthropologist has discovered a prehistoric half ape/half human hybrid frozen in ice.

Celebrating its 80th anniversary this 2019, the Son of Frankenstein (1939), directed by Rowland V. Lee, is the third film in the franchise – following Frankenstein (1931) and Bride of Frankenstein (1935), the last to feature Boris Karloff in the role of the monster, and the first to insert Bela Lugosi as Ygor. . . pairing two of the most iconic horror actors together was a smart move for Universal – the movie was a mammoth hit. All centred on the dramatic, pencil mustached Baron Wolf von Frankenstein (Basil Rathbone – arguably the greatest portrayer of Sherlock Holmes), he is the son of the original mad doctor. . . and is returning home with his slightly twitchy wife Elsa (Josephine Hutchinson) and young son Peter (Donnie Dunagan) – a cute, fear nothing lad whose accent is an eccentric delight, to claim his inheritance – much to the chagrin of the still terrified townsfolk.

Ah, the birthday – a time for family, friends, presents and cake. . . but what if no one was to show up to that party? Could the effects of such a frightful occurrence have repercussions on a young child’s psyche? The genesis event of the 1981 Canadian slasher film Happy Birthday to Me finds veteran director J. Lee Thompson (1962's Cape Fear) transporting the audience into a violent murder mystery with a twist. Straddling the line of a slasher film and an Italian giallo, the killer is no mindless harbinger of undefeatable evil seen in features like Halloween and Friday the 13th, rather a sometimes straight-razor-wielding killer dressed all in black except for their white running shoes – I know what you are probably thinking, what horrible fashion sense. Furthermore, those being killed recognize their murderer, adding another layer to the mystery.

The ‘slasher’ sub-genre of horror is often said to have started with two films, 1974's Black Christmas and 1978's Halloween (while others might also lump 1974's The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in with that grouping), and that very much may be true, but some of its roots most definitely grew out of the giallo films of the late sixties and early seventies, case in point, Sergio Martino’s 1973 horror mystery thriller Torso – featuring all of the trimmings (pardon the pun) that would soon litter each and every slasher flick to come. Now, what should one expect to see in a movie like Torso. . . sex-crazed teens (who tend to investigate strange noises instead of finding safety, or wander off alone in unpopulated areas), suspicious looking peeping Tom’s (likely a red herring or two), an unknown psychopathic killer who uses some sort of bladed weapon (the suspense is killing me – as the murderer is masked. . . and not only uses a knife, but an ascot to strangle those unlucky individuals – I doubt it’s Fred from Scooby-Doo) – all these tropes would soon be found in your prototypical slasher film.

A ‘B’ movie with loftier aspirations, 2018's Overlord, written by Billy Ray, directed by Julius Avery, and produced by J.J. Abrams’ Bad Robot Productions, is one of those rare movies that flips the script halfway through. . . but more on that later. On the eve of the D-Day invasion (during World War 2), a paratrooper squad has been given the gargantuan task of parachuting into a small town in France. . . their mission: to destroy a radio tower attached to an historic church – thus allowing the Allies to gain an upper hand during the paramount, multi-country attack the next day.