A Law Unto Themselves

“Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble. . .” – witches, constant fodder for horror films, but one feature that takes a more sophisticated look at the boiled, pointed black hat wearing creatures, is first time writer/director Robert Eggers’ 2015 motion picture The VVitch: A New-England Folktale – remind me never to book a vacation to rural New England. Set in seventeenth century America, a puritanical Calvinist family has been banished from the plantation they once called home (due to religious differences). . . heading out into the wild unknown (a beautiful voyeuristic shot depicts the children leaving the bustle of the growing town), they look for some solace on their new plot of land, an open piece of property surrounded by a dark, brooding forest. More of a mood piece than a horror film. . . Eggers painstakingly recreates what life would be like in the lonesome location – the senses coming alive; you can feel the roughness of the carriage ride, see the sullen seclusion and ominously dark home life, smell the animals in the nearby barn, endure the weight of their clothing, suffer the same starvation they struggle with as their crops are destroyed by rot.

Though not one of Buster Keaton’s most iconic shorts, 1921's The Haunted House is, at its best, like one of those uber-fun Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? chase scenes – ghosts, skeletons, demons and other unexpected spooks flitting in and out of rooms and doorways, dodging, ducking, dipping, chasing, and ultimately, scaring our jarred, though still somehow stone-faced, hero. Where it struggles slightly is its setup. Keaton is a clerk, a hard working employee at a small time bank. The larger than life money manager (behemoth Joe Roberts) has hatched a plan to rob said bank, his team of thieves looking to a crumbling old home, long rumoured to be haunted, as their hidy-hole – preparing for the cops or any other unlucky trespasser, they have booby-trapped the long since abandoned abode while also gathering white sheets to act as ghosts, building on its infamous reputation. After a glue gag that kind of falls flat, Keaton is spotted by the owner with guns in hand (after having chased off the robbers) – it looking like he is the criminal mastermind. . . fleeing, he hopes to find respite in the haunted house.

A Psycho inspired Hammer Horror motion picture (a British film production company based in London, founded in 1934) set in the rural British countryside, 1963's Paranoiac finds a wealthy family in crisis, struck by a long streak of bad luck – parents dying in a plane crash (eleven years ago), eldest brother committing suicide at the age of fifteen (eight years ago), the rest of them struggling to pick up the pieces after these multiple heartbreaking hits. Written by Jimmy Sangster (loosely based upon the 1949 crime novel Brat Farrar by Josephine Tey) and directed by Freddie Francis (two time Oscar winner for Best Cinematography – Sons and Lovers and Glory), the pair builds mystery upon mystery. With Tony Ashby having committed suicide, Simon Ashby (Oliver Reed) is next in line for the fortune. . . an alcoholic – angry, confused, irrational and frustrated, he constantly spends the money that is supposed to remain in trust. The family lawyer, John Kossett (Maurice Denham), has finally developed a backbone, telling the youth that he will get no more money until he comes of age in three weeks.

What looks to be an open and shut case, Lucio Fulci perverts a seemingly simple murder mystery with suspicious individuals and numerous red herrings in 1971's intriguingly titled giallo, A Lizard in a Woman’s Skin. Carol Hammond (Florinda Bolkan) is a bored London housewife, married to her staid husband, Frank (Jean Sorel), mother to an ungrateful step-daughter, Joan (Ely Galleani), and daughter to a famed lawyer and big time politician, Edmund Brighton (Leo Genn). Haunted by her subconscious, she often dreams that she has found her way over to her wild-child next door neighbour’s pad, Julia Durer (Anita Strindberg) – a sex-kitten known for throwing massive drug-fuelled orgies. Fulci perfectly encapsulates the situation with an amazing transition – visions of her dreams cut to her husband using a nut-cracker at one of their typically boring dinners, as well as a nicely used split screen shot.

A tradition that started last year, I decided that I would highlight some of the horror movies that did not meet my strict criteria (a rating of 7.0 or higher). . . as I realized that they are still entertaining films (horror fanatics may enjoy) that do not deserve to be left behind like the weakest link in a group of friends in a slasher flick – and that they are definitely worth a watch (just maybe not several re-watches). As you can imagine, I’ve been powering through a plethora of horror features as we speed towards Halloween, and, instead of posting one massive selection of Missed the Bloody Cut reviews at the end of October, I have decided to break it into two parts.

“So gentlemen prefer blondes, do they?” What a way to open a film. . . famed platinum blonde Jean Harlow, face wrapped in a hot towel at a beauty salon, utters this self-referential line (in many ways breaking the fourth wall and speaking directly to the audience – her hair now dyed red), only for things to delve into more intriguing terrain. . . the next snippet finds the dame trying on a dress – asking if you can see through the material, the shop worker answers in the affirmative, to which she perkily states, “I’ll wear it”. Vignettes with a purpose, each moment gives us a viewpoint into the world of one Lil Andrews (Harlow), a Red-Headed Woman with a plan.