Universal Monsters Survival Kit

I recently became aware of a company called ManCrates that designs and ships gift boxes for guys... but not just any old gift boxes.  Whether they're made for a pipe smoker or retro gamer, to name just two examples, the personalized collections are packed in a wooden crate and arrive with a laser-etched crowbar for opening it.  These are only the manliest of presents: "no ribbons, fluff, or wrapping paper."

With Halloween upon us and my countdown of Universal Monsters at the halfway point, I decided to think outside the box (pun intended) to create my own Man Crate full of objects used to combat classic creatures from the 1930s and 1940s.  Some objects are literal and some are figurative; however, with this crate you could survive an attack by anyone or anything Hollywood used to threaten us.

The first item is the crate itself.  You probably thought I would say a wooden stake to kill Dracula, but in the 1931 movie, Professor Van Helsing (Edward Van Sloan) doesn't actually carry one in his bag of tricks.  He tears apart the lid of a coffin and drives a piece of wood into the sleeping vampire's heart.  So I'd use the crowbar that's included to open the crate and break off a plank from the lid.

The next item is a torch.  As early as 1925, mobs were getting angry and chasing their monsters both above and below ground.  They drove The Phantom of the Opera out of his lair, Frankenstein's Monster into a burning windmill and, on several occasions, The Mummy to a fiery death.  Sometimes, as in 1942's The Mummy's Tomb, it took only the threat of a monster for a crazy man to shout, "Get your torches!"

The next item is a statue of Isis.  Before The Mummy crossed the ocean as a bandage-wrapped creature of the undead, he was a resurrected Egyptian priest named Imhotep.  Trapped in his tomb, Helen Grosvenor, the reincarnation of Imhotep's dead Princess Ankh-es-en-amon, prays to Isis and a statue of the goddess raises its arms to emit a beam of light that destroys the Scroll of Thoth and Imhotep.

The next item is a plain old gun.  Sometimes that's all it takes to get rid of the more human monsters.  You'd have to be a pretty good shot to hit The Invisible Man, but a chief detective does it in 1933.  That's also what gets The Werewolf of London in 1935.  If you're lucky, your monster-turned-victim will actually thank you, just as Wilfred Glendon did.

The next item is a lever.  Any old laboratory lever will do, although the bigger, the better.  You want to be able to blow your adversary to atoms.  When warned against pulling it in The Bride of Frankenstein in 1935, the Monster did it, anyway, and blew the top off the place.  He and his bride were buried in rubble, so be alert of your surroundings when pulling your lever.

The next item is a bow and arrow.  It's old school, but is good for hitting the offspring of a monster from a distance.  In 1936, Sandor, the trusted blood slave of Dracula's Daughter, betrayed her and shot her through the heart.  He was pissed off because she broke her promise to make him immortal.  Still keep your gun handy, though, in case a lackey like Sandor turns on you.

The next item is a vat of bubbling sulfur.  You'll have to lure a creature like Frankenstein's monster into it, but the hot liquid will consume it, then harden into an encasement.  As in Son of Frankenstein in 1939, it's a solid way to imprison The Monster… that is until an angry mob gets impatient and blows something up that will inadvertently release it.

The next item is a silver cane.  Well, not an entirely silver cane, just the head will do.  It's especially ironic if it's a wolf's head cane you use to beat the Wolf Man into submission, as his father did in 1941.  If you have a hard time locating one, you might hop over to Collinsport, Maine, and ask if you can borrow one from Barnabas Collins.  That is, if Quentin's not in town.

The next item is a map.  You need to know the geography of your location so you can initiate a watery death for some creatures.  In 1925, an angry mob threw The Phantom of the Opera into a river to drown.  In 1943, a lone villager blew up a dam that flooded the castle where Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man.  Note: landmarks sometimes relocate inexplicably based on the needs of the story.

The last item would be daylight.  Although it was used to kill the Count in the Spanish version of Dracula in 1931, it wasn't a means of destruction for other vampires until Son of Dracula in 1943.  Used in conjunction with your map, you can lead the bloodsucker to a swamp in the Deep South so that when he expires, his skeleton hand can protrude from the water.  Awesome picture!

There you have it, a survival kit, if you will, for protecting yourself from an army of Universal Monsters.  With it you can destroy phantoms, vampires, manmade monsters, mummies, invisible men and werewolves.  One thing that doesn't come in a crate is your imagination, and that's what turns these often cuddly creatures into threats in the first place.

The Coundown Ends... What Have We Learned?

I started my Countdown to Halloween on October 1 by questioning why I love horror movies.  I mentioned that I am not the only person who puts himself through the ordeal of watching horror movies, particularly when so many of them are bad.  The phenomenon of people enjoying movies that stimulate fear, perhaps the most negative emotion, is called the "horror paradox".  I embarked on a quest to find answers to my question.

First of all, if you read any of my posts this month, there should be no doubt that I love horror movies.  I love watching them, I love studying them and I love writing about them.  Even when I wasn't searching for answers, I researched and wrote about lesbian vampires, animated horrors,  Italian horror movies and found footage.  I wrote not only about movies, but also about television, comic strips, video games and comic books.

I recap the month like this simply to emphasize my question: why?!?  What can I possibly learn about myself from all my research and all my writing?

Decades of Horror

One of the common theories used to explain the horror paradox is that people watch horror movies as a way of coping with actual fears or violence.  Since one source of our fears is undoubtedly the world in which we live, I examined the popular horror movies of different decades to see how they reflected the general fears and uncertainties of the times.  But how did they reflect my general fears and uncertainties?

Born in 1963, I was a pop culture kid from the start.  Before horror, the first thing I remember is Batman.  I remember watching the TV show (1966-1968) and dressing as the Caped Crusader for Halloween.  About the same time, I remember watching Lost in Space (1965-1967).  I guess my first specific memory of horror was watching Dark Shadows after school when we lived at 3205 W. Maine and seeing House of Dark Shadows, or at least part of it, at the theater.

My point is, I was anywhere from 3-6 years old during this time, so I don't think I had any general fears or uncertainties about the 1960s.  I had a good home life.  I enjoyed school.  I think I was artistic and/or creative even then.  Maybe what Batman, Lost in Space and Dark Shadows had in common was the wonder they inspired.  If anything, that's how I remember the 60s: a decade of wonder when man first landed on the moon.

Halfway through first grade, we moved to 2001 Seneca.  This is where I first remember falling in love with The Wizard of Oz (a new friend at school, Jana Jackson, missed the annual telecast, so I invited her to my new house to listen to the record) and the Universal monsters.  This is the era of going to bed early on Friday nights and my dad waking me up at midnight to watch them on TV, even though he teased me that they spoke Pig-Latin.

This was the early 1970s.  I was 7-12 years old.  I do remember some worries then, but since I was oblivious to what was happening in the world around me, they came from my own little environment.  I was nervous about a new school.  I didn't have many friends.  In 5^th grade (my worst year of grade school), I actually challenged a bully to an after-school fight, from which I later chickened-out.  What effect did all this have in forming my interest in horror?

In junior high, I was told to go home one day when I wore my Farrah t-shirt to school.  My siblings and I loved Charlie's Angels.  (My favorite was Farrah, my sister's, Jaclyn, and my brother's, Kate.)  I collected comics and genre magazines and Wacky Packages.  I clipped pictures from Hollywood magazines and started my "files" in my bedroom closet.  I made copies of newspaper movie ads at my father's business on evenings, which I collected into 3-ring binders.  I enjoyed reading mysteries and subscribed to "Ellery Queen" magazine.

Still oblivious to the world around me, my social anxieties increased.  I'd had a crew cut for years and was always the target of ridicule because of it.  Upperclassmen would rub my head and call me a fairy.  Looking back, I think this took a toll on me.  I had regular "sick" headaches that debilitated me.  Telling my father about it one night, he told me that "fairy" meant a boy who liked boys.  "Well, that's not me," I told him.  While I didn't seem to be as interested in horror in the late 70s when I was 12-16 years old, what seeds were being sown for the future?

In high school, my interest in movies, regardless of genre, grew.  But if you look back on reviews I wrote for "The Quill", the Enid High newspaper, it's obvious I favored horror.  I specifically remember receiving a press kit for The Funhouse, going to see it, then writing about it.  In 1978, I saw Halloween for the first of what would be many, many times.  That experience renewed my love of horror and sent me to college wearing it on my sleeve.  I dragged fraternity brothers to see Halloween II, took a date to The Beast Within at the drive-in and first saw A Nightmare on Elm Street in the crappy theater in Fulton, Missouri.

In the late-1970s to early-1980s, I was a little more aware of world events.  Still, though, when I was 15-22 years old, they seemed distant to me.  But they were influencing the personal things.   My father's business was failing and he became unemployed.  While I was away from the family, my younger siblings at home were experiencing things I never did.  And after graduation, I was going to have to get a job.  What in the hell was I going to do?  I think in this era, horror movies became more of a conscious escape for me.  While I was watching them, I didn't have to think about the real world.  They gave me something to anticipate, something to study and something to enjoy.

I'm not going to continue decade by decade.  My love of horror had fully formed by now.  For whatever reason, it was engrained within me and it wasn't going to change.  Not when I married (I'll never forget being pissed that my fiancée wouldn't see Killer Party with me), not when I had a daughter (who, bless her, seems to now enjoy horror movies, although not to the extent that I do), and not when I divorced (scary movies became good again for dates, even though I was now dating men).

These days, I'm extremely concerned about our country.  I never learned more about politics than I did when George W. Bush was president.  (Neither have I been more terrified of the real world!)  I've experienced home ownership, running my own business, bankruptcy and lawsuits.  In a way, I'm now desensitized by all this.  Maybe that's why horror is my favorite escape.  Not only does it take my mind off the real world, but it does so in a way that stimulates a tired, old system.
Theory:  Confronting Our Own Mortality

I don't believe I love horror movies because they help me cope with death.  However, since I am not afraid of dying, maybe that's because I've watched so many horror movies.  The reason I enjoy the Final Destination movies is instead (I think) because I like the series of coincidences leading to/causing each death.  You know it's going to happen, you just aren't sure how.  While some of the death scenes are more clever than others, the concept never gets old.  Don't fight it, you can't cheat death.

Theory:  Reliving Our Youth

This theory probably comes closer than any other to explaining why I love horror movies.  (I didn't just write over a thousand words about growing up for nothing.)  However, I don't think I love horror movies because they remind me of specific childhood times.  My memories are not necessarily about events surrounding horror movies, but of watching the horror movies themselves.  I think this theory is more important from the perspective of when this took place rather than why.

Theory:  Enjoying the Rush

This theory places a close second in explaining why I love horror movies.  It's simple:  I don't think I would ever have latched onto them if I didn't simply enjoy them.  I've written frequently about the feeling I get when the suspense is good.  My heart races, my body constricts and then… I relax.  I don't know about the scientific reasons for this; I'm more inclined to believe that if you're in a relatively smooth-sailing part of your life, horror movies can provide some cheap, entertaining thrills.

Theory:  Sympathizing with the Monster

I feel pretty healthy about this one; I don't think I love horror movies because I sympathize with the bad guy.  I have a clear understanding of who the heroes and villains are in a movie.  I'm sure I feel sorry for King Kong or Frankenstein's monster (who doesn't?) but I've never admired Norman Bates or Hannibal Lecter.  Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger?  Nope; nothing about what they do elicits empathy from me.

When I'm watching a horror movie, part of the thrill is cheering for the good guy to survive.  I'm squirming for Laurie Strode to escape Michael Myers, not for Michael Myers to get her.  I definitely sympathize with the good guy because… that's me.  And I'm not a monster.  If a monster were chasing me, I'd cheer for myself, not it.  However, I will admit enjoying the more deadly monsters.  They offer a bigger threat, so the stakes for survival are also bigger.

Theory:  Acknowledging Reality

While I've admitted to enjoying horror movies as an escape from reality, there's no blur in the line that separates the two.  I'm well aware that horror movies aren't real; however, that's not consciously why I enjoy them.  There must be a little sliver of my mind that thinks they could happen.  If not, would they really be scary?  More likely, they're simply metaphors for my real fears, whatever they may be at any given point in time.
Conclusions?

Obviously, there's no definitive answer for why I love horror movies.  It's all of these things; it's none of these things.  I never made a conscious decision to be a horror fan, but neither do I believe some deep-rooted secret in my subconscious made the decision for me.  I don't know how much more I could research or write to figure it out.

But more importantly, I don't know that I need to.  Yes, I was curious.  But does it really matter why I love horror?  The fact is simply that I do.

So, did I cop-out by not reaching a specific conclusion in my Countdown to Halloween?  I think not.  It's been a lot of fun.  I set the goal to write... something... every single day of the month and guess what?  I did it!  And I enjoyed every minute of it!  For those of you who joined me, I hope you did as well.  Until next year?!?

Happy, Happy Halloween!

In Defense of Halloween II

After the unprecedented success of John Carpenter's Halloween in 1978, a sequel was inevitable.  It should come as no surprise that when Halloween became the most profitable independent film of all time, a studio (Universal) would eagerly dump money into a continuation.  While Carpenter wanted no part in helming it, he did write and produce (with Debra Hill), hiring Rick Rosenthal to direct.  Halloween II was a relative hit when was released in 1981, but never achieved the financial or critical heights of its predecessor.

 

I'm not claiming Halloween II is even close to being as good as Halloween, but I still like it a lot… probably more than most people.  And the reasons I like it may be the reasons others don't.

The most controversial direction Halloween II takes is retrofitting the story to make the boogeyman, Michael Myers, be [SPOILER ALERT] Laurie Strode's brother.  I'm not sure where she was when Michael murdered their sister, Judith, but she apparently survived.  And when her parents died two years later, she was adopted by the Strodes, never knowing the bloody history of her real family as she grew up.

Some people don't like this development in the story.  They claim that the instant you start explaining the origins of a monster, the monster stops being scary.  I disagree.  I believe if you want to continue a story in a sequel, you must add something to it; otherwise, it's the same old thing.  Well, in many ways, Halloween II is the same old thing, but the revelation at least adds a reason for existing.

Now, as I watch Halloween II again, I do have some issues with the revelation.  Mostly, this is because it applies more to the second movie than the first.  For example, lying wounded in the hospital, Laurie (Jamie Lee Curtis) asks, "Why me?  Why me?" when she learns about Michael Myers.  Well, honey, it wasn't just you.  You should know; you stumbled over the bodies of your friends.  So it's a cheap way of shoehorning in the new plot element.

And while making Michael be on a mission to kill his sister explains his determination for getting to the hospital in Halloween II, it doesn't really explain why he killed his other victims in Halloween.  (Or nearly the entire staff of the hospital, for that matter.)

I choose to ignore the nitpicking, though, because I think it's a great little twist that creates a mythology while opening the door for a world of potential ideas to continue the story.  Not a shock on the level of Psycho, it still surprised me the first time I saw it.

While we're getting to know Michael Myers a little better in Halloween II, we learn he's more industrious than we first thought in Halloween.  In the first movie, he relies upon only a couple of weapons of gross destruction.  But in the second, he uses about anything he finds, even breaking into a shed at the hospital to borrow some tools.  He becomes more brutal in his attacks as well, although he still moves at a snail's pace.

Also, his victims become more nondescript.  Halloween spends some time establishing its characters, or at least it maximizes the time it has to do so.  We care about Annie and Lynda, and through them, their boyfriends, whether seen or unseen.  But Halloween II's victims are unidentifiable caricatures, present for only one purpose: to be killed.

 

I ignore the nitpicking on these two points, also.  Think about the timing of Halloween II's release.  It was the early 80's.  While Halloween had already inspired some slasher films, it was only the tip of the icepick.  In a way, Halloween II became the standard for the Halloween rip-offs.  It used senseless brutality, everything but the kitchen sink for murder weapons and generic (often naked) characters to kill off before most of the others.  Stretching a bit, you might even say Halloween II was revolutionary for being the first, most successful movie to do this.

I'll also add that Halloween II did this better than most other horror movies of the 80s.  Although it's physically a brighter production than Halloween, there are still jumps and thrills.  Another common complaint about the sequel is that Michael Myers is too visible; he doesn't just emerge from the shadows like he did in the original.  I propose that he can be just as scary from that perspective.  I'm in just as much suspense when he walks down a long, well-lit hospital corridor chasing Laurie as I am when he was lurking in corners of the house.

 

Watching Halloween II again, my biggest complaint is actually the music.  It's the same classic score written by John Carpenter; however, instead of using simple piano, Carpenter collaborated with Alan Howarth to use synthesized organ.  Still effective at times, it's heavier to me and more distracting.  Now that I think about it, it's a good example of the movie itself: it's bigger, less subtle and just a little less efficient.

It seems I've made quite a case against Halloween II.  What I'm saying, though, is that I acknowledge its shortcomings and embrace them.  I like the approach of beginning exactly where Halloween ended.  I love the references in the story to the first movie.  (For example, the trick or treater in a mask burned on the street who authorities think might be Michael Myers turns out to be Ben Traymer, the boy Laurie wanted to date in Halloween.)  I will always squirm when the little boy goes to the hospital with a razor blade stuck in the roof of his mouth.

There have been far worse sequels.  There have been far worse horror movies.  Could Halloween II have been better?  Of course.  But I feel that while John Carpenter and Debra Hill may have reluctantly been forced to participate, they at least steered it in the direction they wanted to go.  Had the franchise ended here, which many believe it should have, it would have been a perfectly adequate conclusion.  And those who despise the later sequels can pretend that it was.

H34: Halloween 34 Years Later

As eager as I was to see John Carpenter's Halloween on the big screen last week, I have to admit I was a little worried about how it was going to play 34 years later.  Now, I've seen Halloween many, many times over the years, but not recently, and certainly not in a theater.  While I've long claimed it as my favorite horror movie of all time, what if I discovered it wasn't as wonderful in reality as it was in my mind?

I suppose the first question I have to ask is, "Does Halloween still have the power to scare?"  And I must answer that with a qualified "yes".  I mean, I've seen it so many times; surely I couldn't be surprised by the same jumps.  Actually, I was.  Twice.  But I noticed something about the jumps this time.

The "stinger", which is what I call the musical noise that is made when something is supposed to scare you, is used frequently in Halloween.  However, it is used only when the scare is legitimate.  For example, when Michael Myers jumps out of a closet or when a dead body swings down from the ceiling, it's accompanied by a stinger.  However, when the scare is false, there is no stinger.  So, when something unexpectedly crashes against the window or Dr. Loomis backs into the sheriff, there is silence.  It's the second type of scare, the false one, that surprised me during my recent viewing.

As far as being scared by Michael Myers himself, I would have to say I'm too familiar with the story and its outcome to really be scared again.  However, the suspense of him stalking Laurie Strode is something I'll never stop feeling when I watch Halloween.  Technically, the way Carpenter crafted these scenes is flawless.  It's like he's wired into my brain and knows exactly what is going to make me scrunch down in my seat and kick my feet, mentally yelling at Laurie to get out of that closet.

In no small part, the music of Halloween must be credited for the movie's ability to remain creepy.  We've seen much more graphic horror movies since 1978 and are now desensitized to the bloodless murders of the original Halloween.  But when you add Carpenter's score, the movie transcends the decades.  I wonder what it would be like to watch the movie without the soundtrack?  I'm willing to bet it wouldn't be the classic that it has become with its music.

I'm sure everyone remembers the main theme of Halloween, the fast but simple keyboard melody that makes it feel like the story is zipping along.  During my recent viewing, though, I was reminded of its two other musical patterns.  It's the slower, deeper chords and melodies that really made a difference for me.  Perhaps because you hear the main theme more, those less-used sounded different and were actually more effective for me.

Something I've heard people say who have not enjoyed such a long history of Halloween, those who are younger and discovered it only through home video, perhaps, is that it really only gets good at the end; the first parts are long and boring.  I cannot be objective on this point.  Since I know the movie so well, I savor every scene.  It's fun to anticipate dialogue and see if I notice anything new.  Even its most familiar scenes, my attention remains locked and I truly admire the craftsmanship and marvel at how Carpenter did so much with so little.

I also was reminded of my respect for Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween.  She's very, very good and it's easy to see now how she's had such a long career.  She's the heart of the movie.  Let's be honest, some of the actors in Halloween don't necessarily give great performances.  Even the great Donald Pleasance sometimes annoys me in his delivery.  But Curtis does not strike one false note.  Without the sympathy, perhaps empathy, we feel for her character, we would have no emotional investment in the movie.

My greatest fear for those watching Halloween for the first time is that they won't understand why it is such a horror classic.  They've probably seen so many other horror movies that they think a killer who never dies is a boring, old trick.  But my greatest hope is that they realize Halloween was one of the first movies to use that element, certainly the first one to be so successful.  They wouldn't have seen the trick in other horror movies if it hadn't worked so well here.

Which begs my final question.  Is Halloween still a great movie?  There's no doubt it was during its time, but is it only important from that perspective?  Is it too dated to be a classic today?  I can answer that question easily, as should any horror fan.  Just look at all the horror movies we've seen over the years.  Even today, the original Halloween is far better than most of those.  I'd gladly watch it again if it were a choice between it and any of this season's theatrical releases.  I know what I'm going to get and I will never be disappointed.

Sunday Funnies Pt. 2

For as long as I can remember, I've clipped and saved favorite comic strips from the newspaper. One of the reasons I was able to finally stop reading an actual printed newspaper was GoComics, which allowed me to customize an email containing my daily comics. I could then clip, save and organize my favorite ones digitally.

One of the categories I save is "Monsters", and I have hundreds of them. It seems that the iconic representations of Dracula, the Mummy, the Wolfman, et. al. are so engrained in pop culture consciousness that they can be used to make a political statement, comment on a trend or simply make us laugh. Here are some of my favorites...

I love monster comic strips that have fun with the monster movies themselves and their cliches. Sometimes, you have to be familiar with the movies to "get" the joke.  You have to know that Frankenstein movies are full of angry mobs and that the monster does not like fire.

Strange Brew by John Deering (8-2-12)

The Flying McCoys by Glenn & Gary McCoy (5-12-12)

You have to know that Igor chose the wrong brain for Dr. Frankenstein to place inside his creature.

The Flying McCoys by Glenn & Gary McCoy (6-3-12)

Doesn't it make these comics funnier if you've seen the movie or are familiar with the lore?

The Argyle Sweater by Scott Hilburn (4-29-10)

 

Strange Brew by John Deering (9-27-10)

 

The Argyle Sweater by Scott Hilburn (4-13-12)

 

Strange Brew by John Deering (3-25-12)

The Argyle Sweater by Scott Hilburn (10-14-10)

 

Comics are at their best when they make fun of a passing trend.  And when you add monsters to Justin Bieber, the iPhone, fitness, unemployment and office politics...

The Flying McCoys by Glenn & Gary McCoy (10-29-10)

Bound & Gagged by Dana Summers (10-18-10)

 

The Flying McCoys by Glenn & Gary McCoy (10-25-09)

Strange Brew by John Deering (7-24-11)

Strange Brew by John Deering (12-3-10)

 

I'm a sucker for a bad...er, good... pun, so i get a special kick out of comics with clever word play.

Strange Brew by John Deering (11-23-09)

The Argyle Sweater by Scott Hilburn (8-4-12)

The Argyle Sweater by Scott Hilburn (9-28-12)

The Flying McCoys by Glenn & Gary McCoy (4-28-09)

The Flying McCoys by Glenn & Gary McCoy (10-30-10)

The Argyle Sweater by Scott Hilburn (10-12-12)

 

I could go on all day.  But let me make a couple observations.  First, you will notice that monster-themed comic strips are not just a Halloween season treat; they are published year 'round.  Second, you will notice that there a couple of comics where the writer/artists must be horror fans; while monsters pop up occasionally in other strips, they frequently appear in theirs.

 

Finally, you may think only the classic monsters are victims of these comic strips, but more recent horror legends do appear.  I happen to think they aren't quite as funny, perhaps because their lore is not quite as engrained in pop culture consciousness.

 

The Flying McCoys by Glenn & Gary McCoy (10-13-12)

Bound & Gagged by Dana Summers (3-23-10)

 

Strange Brew by John Deering (6-11-10)

The Flying McCoys by Glenn & Gary McCoy (10-24-10)

The Argyle Sweater by Scott Hilburn (3-11-09)

 

Strange Brew by John Deering (8-8-12)

Speed Bump by Dave Coverly (1-24-09)

The Argyle Sweater by Scott Hilburn (11-8-11)

 

 

I hope you've enjoyed a little taste of my sense of humor.  I want to leave you with one of my all-time favorites... a blast from the past... a hilarious mash-up first seen on September 9, 1999 in a The New Breed comic by Alan Hutchinson: