A Law Unto Themselves

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 70th anniversary this 2019, Disney’s The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad (1949) is perhaps one of the most bizarre pairings of stories ever to hit movie theatres. . . Coupling Kenneth Grahame’s iconic children’s novel “The Wind In the Willows” with Washington Irving’s gothic horror story “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”, you may be wondering what these two tales have in common. . . in short, absolutely nothing (it was actually due to reduced manpower during World War 2 that six movies – this being the last, were released in these combined and shortened formats). Woven together by a narrated battle of the greatest characters ever to grace British and American shores, English narrator Basil Rathbone (most famous for playing Sherlock Holmes) selects the former story, while Washingtonian Bing Crosby (singer/actor) highlights the latter. . . two more rich, melodious voices you will not find.

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.

A lieutenant officer working the first day on the job, a group of prisoners being transported to a high security facility, a father and daughter looking for their nanny’s home, and a mysterious interracial inner city gang. . . what do they all have in common? They all almost fatefully find their way to an emptied police precinct on the verge of closure in John Carpenter’s 1976 low budget cult classic Assault on Precinct 13. Only John Carpenter’s second feature film, the writer/director weaves these four stories together, a doomed pacing drawing them all to one location for a single fateful night. The officer is Ethan Bishop (Austin Stoker), an African American working his first day on the job. . . given a seemingly uneventful task, he is the man in charge of the derelict Precinct 13 – a semi-closed location that will have its power and telephone lines shut off the next morning. The only remaining skeleton staff are: Sergeant Chaney (Henry Brandon) and a pair of secretaries, Leigh (Laurie Zimmer) and Julie (Nancy Kyes).

You’ve got to give credit to guerrilla film making. Usually encompassing a newish director and actors, a limited budget, rebellious on-location shoots, and a certain disregard for rules and regulations (mostly due to a lack of money), some of cinemas most unique and creative pictures have come from this cheap form of movie making. Think Rocky, The Evil Dead, El Mariachi, Clerks, and today’s motion picture, Mad Max (1979). Made for 400 thousand Australian dollars, it went on to make more than 100 million US worldwide – at that point holding the Guinness Book of World Records for most profitable film (only losing it in 1999 to The Blair Witch Project). Putting writer/director George Miller and star Mel Gibson (in his first leading role) on the map, it also thrust Australian New Wave cinema into global consciousness, while bringing forth a surge in dystopic movies that dealt with similar ideas and themes. In fact, it was such a success, it also spawned three sequels – Mad Max 2 aka The Road Warrior (1981), Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome (1985), and the Gibson-less Mad Max: Fury Road (2015). . . this most recent effort considered an instant classic (and one of the best reviewed films of the year).

To dance with the devil. . . perhaps not the cheeriest of thoughts. But, what if the person the devil is dancing with is another devil? Of course, I’m speaking on a metaphorical level, and this is basically what happens in the mysterious 2018 thriller Piercing, written and directed by Nicolas Pence. To be brutally honest, if you do not like films where there is really no single person to root for, then this will probably not be for you. Opening with a playful combination of music and credits, as I listened, it sounded to me like something you would hear in a 1970s giallo (and, lo and behold, the soundtrack features Goblin’s Tenebrae score), which plays over a fabricated city skyline, cold and lacking life. Like something heard in a music box with a dark twist, it warns of a sinister love story (and I use the word love loosely).