Sisters (1973)

When I was a child, there were no video stores.  There was no Netflix, Amazon Instant Video or iTunes.  Heck, there was no Internet, at least not that was available to the public like it is today.  But I had two things:  HBO and a Betamax.  When I wanted to “own” a movie, I “taped” it on one of its HBO airings, made a neatly printed label for the box and added it to my physical library.

My family got its first Betamax for Christmas in 1977.  The first thing I recorded was a re-run of the second season premiere of Charlie’s Angels, the two-hour episode called “Angels in Paradise”, which introduced Cheryl Ladd to the series.  I had to watch a show when I taped it to pause every 15 minutes, give or take, so I could “cut out” the commercials.

When I taped something, I watched it over and over and over again.  (Ah, what I’d give for the time to do that now!)  One of the first movies I taped on HBO was Sisters (1973).  I loved that movie!  I watched it before I saw many other better-known horror films like Psycho, Rosemary’s Baby or The Exorcist.  And I watched it more times than I’ve watched those other movies to this day.

Thankfully, when I re-watched it recently for the first time in many years, it holds up incredible well.  The first thing that comes to mind when I think of Sisters is its director, Brian DePalma.  And when I think of Brian DePalma, I think of style:  long one-shot takes, spinning cameras and, most of all, split screen.  Sisters began a nearly 10-year stretch where DePalma was a true master of horror.

DePalma was controversial during this period of time because he was considered in some circles to be the “new Hitchcock”.  Apparently, you believed only one of two things about DePalma, that he was a transcendent auteur or that he was a mimicking, copycat hack.  I believed the former; in fact, I wrote my senior year English research paper with the thesis that he was the new Hitchcock.

From 1973 to 1981, DePalma made Sisters, Phantom of the Paradise, Obsession, Carrie, The Fury, Dressed to Kill and Blowout, all favorites of mine and worthy of a modern day Hitchcock.  This was before he went in a different direction with movies like Scarface, The Untouchables and Carlito’s Way.  These still utilized his unique style, but were not classic horror or suspense thrillers.

I’ve long maintained that Dressed to Kill is my favorite DePalma movie.  After re-watching Sisters, though, I think I prefer its less polished style.  It’s obviously made by a young director trying out new things and it feels fresh and exciting to this day.  It’s also very dark and twisted.  What begins as a standard, yet stylish murder mystery, later becomes a lurid, almost hallucinogenic horror movie.

Another reason I now prefer Sisters is that the showy DePalma style is used more sparingly.  For example, the split screen is used far less than I remembered, and it’s used more effectively than I think I’ve ever seen in any movie.  Technically, it’s brilliant; I can’t imagine the level of detail required to plan such shots.  Visually, it’s enthralling.

In Sisters, the relatively brief sequence that uses the technique, serves two purposes.  First, it provides two different perspectives on an event at the same time.  On the left side of the screen, it’s the perspective of a man who has been stabbed crawling to a window to write “help” in his own blood.  On the right side of the screen, it’s the perspective of a woman watching the murder from her apartment next door.

Second, it provides real time depiction of simultaneous action.  On the left side of the screen, we see the murderer and accomplice frantically cleaning up the scene of the crime.  On the right side of the screen, we see the woman from next door talking to the police and eventually convincing them to investigate what she witnessed.  I find this technique much more suspenseful that an intercutting of scenes where we go back and forth between the action.

On a psychological level, the screen first splits at the same time the main character suffers an emotional split.  Is that heavy handed and obvious filmmaking or is it subtle and clever?  I think it may be a little of both, but I like it a lot.  It adds multiple levels to the experience.  Reflecting on the many times I watched Sisters in my teen years, I bet it’s the reason I became interested in the “art” of making a movie.

The aforementioned murder takes place in the apartment of Danielle Breton (Margot Kidder).  She is one half of a pair of conjoined twins who were recently physically separated.  Her trick for the evening, Phillip (Lisle Wilson) does not apparently notice the giant scar on her hip as he caresses her thighs.  When the other twin, Dominique, discovers their night of passion, she flies into a jealous and murderous rage.

The entire first half of Sisters leads up to and includes the violent murder of Phillip.  It then shifts to the point of view of Grace Collier (Jennifer Salt), the neighbor woman who must conduct an investigation of her own since the police could find no evidence of the murder.  She hires a private detective, Joseph Larch (Charles Durning), infiltrates the hospital and becomes intimately involved in the twists and turns of the story.

Once at the hospital, it’s a rollercoaster downhill as dark secret after secret is revealed.  It’s trashy, it’s exploitative, it’s gruesome, but man, is it entertaining!  Sisters calms down a bit for a two-part conclusion that’s perfect.  Not exactly a twist, but certainly a gotcha, making you smile while you think, “oh, yeah” as well as “oh, no.”

If you’ve never seen Sisters, now is the perfect time to discover it.  With American Horror Story: Freak Show now airing on FX and featuring conjoined twins, you can see the homage it pays to DePalma.  (You can also see that, no matter how entertaining, the TV show is an inferior product, at least in comparison.)

That leaves us with the homage DePalma pays Hitchcock in Sisters.  It’s in large part Psycho meets Rear Window, but I’ve never believed DePalma was robbing from Hitchcock.  If anything, his movies put a “modern” spin on Hitchcock.  The influence is obvious, but it’s not blatant plagiarism.  I truly believe DePalma took filmmaking to a new level with Sisters.  Familiar in style, perhaps, but it’s undoubtedly something you’d never seen before in 1973.  Or even in 1977 on HBO, for that matter, taped for posterity on a worn out Betamax cassette.

Tomorrow:  The Legend of Hell House!

The Night Stalker (1972) and The Night Strangler (1973)

As we approach the mid-1970s in my Countdown to Halloween, my memories are beginning to become a bit unreliable.  For example, since I first saw it on TV on January 11, 1972, I have maintained that The Night Stalker was one of the top ten vampire movies of all time.  After watching it recently, though, I’m not sure I can continue to make that argument.  Conversely, I’ve always thought its sequel, which I first saw on TV on January 16, 1973, was inferior.  After watching it recently, though, I now believe it is actually the better movie of the two.

The thing about The Night Stalker is that it’s really just a standard vampire tale, and not a particularly good one.  What makes the movie special is the character of reporter Carl Kolchak, played by Darren McGavin.  Kolchak is one of the greatest television characters of all time.  In this movie, the sequel and a subsequent 20-episode series, the concept of the “monster of the week” television show was born.

The two movies and the series episodes had the same exact structure.  After a series of murders, Kolchak would discover something supernatural.  No one would believe him, but he would pursue the story anyway.  After ultimately dispatching the particular guest monster of the week, he would somehow be blamed and his story would be buried.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

In The Night Stalker, the supernatural element is Janos Skorzeny (Barry Atwater), a vampire killing Las Vegas showgirls.  When his editor, Vincenzo (Simon Oakland) and the sheriff do not believe Kolchak, even after being witness to incredible events, Kolchak takes it upon himself to track him down and drive a stake through his heart.  Of course, when he’s successful, it is Kolchak who is arrested for murder.  Rather than jail time, though, he’s simply run out of town.

In The Night Strangler, the supernatural element is Dr. Richard Malcolm (Richard Anderson), an immortal underground dweller who surfaces every 21 years to refresh his elixir of life by killing Seattle women and collecting their blood.  When his editor, Vincenzo (apparently fired and run out of town as well) and the police do not believe Kolchak, even after being witness to incredible events, Kolchak takes it upon himself to track him down and destroy his magical elixir.  Of course, when he’s successful, he and Vincenzo are fired and last seen in Kolchak’s car heading for New York City.

The two movies are framed with Kolchak’s after-the-fact, likely embellished, narration about the events that occurred.  He speaks earnestly, as if what he has to say is of grave importance.  For example, The Night Stalker ends with him stating, “One fact that cannot be buried: Janos and all his victims were immediately cremated.  Try to tell yourself it couldn't happen here.”  But he has some very funny lines, as well, such as his response to being booted out of Las Vegas, “I pull your fat out of the fire and you turn around and do this to me!”

Kolchak’s relationship with Vincenzo is also great fun to watch.  Their verbal sparring, often escalating to near fisticuffs, is another signature of the movies and the television series.  They must have a history, because Vincenzo warns him, “If you keep going on like this, you’re going to be fired again.”  It’s a little coincidental that they both end up in the same bar in Seattle in The Night Strangler, but it soon doesn’t matter; you’re just glad they’re back together.

The Night Strangler is a more effective horror film than The Night Stalker.  Dan Curtis (Dark Shadows), producer of the first one, took directing reigns in the second, and he is better than John Llewellyn Moxey at creating thrills and chills.  The Night Stalker is almost documentary-like in the way the scenes with the vampire are filmed; there’s no suspense.  But The Night Strangler has spookier sets, better lighting and more creative camerawork.  Curtis-regular Robert Cobert provides the music for both, and it’s even a richer score in the second movie.

The Night Strangler is also more fun than The Night Stalker.  Its cast is full of cameos and guest stars familiar to genre fans.  Margaret Hamilton, the Wicked Witch of the West, is a professor with whom Kolchak consults.  Horror legend John Carradine is the newspaper’s publisher.  And Al Lewis, Grandpa Munster, shows up as a “tramp” who may have some information about the murders.  70s movie and TV regular Wally Cox has a more extended role as Mr. Berry, a researcher for the newspaper who gives Kolchak most of the historical information for the case.

Since we’ve already been introduced to Kolchak in The Night Stalker, McGavin is really firing on all cylinders playing him in The Night Strangler.  The banter between him and a Seattle policeman asking a witness questions is hilarious.  You begin to realize in the second movie that the monster or supernatural element is almost irrelevant.  It’s Kolchak whom we want to watch.  Apparently, the formula wore out it’s welcome, though, since the series was cancelled after one season.  But that’s material for another day…

Tomorrow:  Sisters!

Asylum (1972)

One Monday morning at school, my friend Tommy Terrell ran up to me to tell me about the movie his father took him to see over the weekend.  I don’t think any movie could live up to the very detailed and descriptive synopsis he gave of the “Frozen Fear” segment of the Amicus Productions film, Asylum.  I didn’t know how this one slipped by me, but I immediately began pestering my parents to take me to see it.

Asylum was released in November of 1972.  I don’t remember the weather being cold when I saw it at the Video Twin theater, but my parents must have relented soon after its release and Tommy told me his tale.  To my delight, I enjoyed the movie as much as I expected.

To this day, I would call it my favorite “portmanteau” (consisting or combining two or more separable aspects or qualities) or anthology movie.  It was my first exposure to Amicus and I would later come to appreciate Tales from the Crypt, The House That Dripped and, particularly, Dr. Terror’s House of Horrors, to name only three.

So how does Asylum hold up 42 years later?  Well, the “Frozen Fear” segment is indeed terrific, but I had forgotten that the other three segments were not as strong.  The framing story, though, is one of my favorites from Amicus.  Dr. Martin (Robert Powell) arrives at an asylum “for the incurable insane” for a job interview.  Asking for the whereabouts of the head of the asylum, Martin learns that Dr. Starr suffered a complete mental breakdown and is now a patient at that very asylum.  To be considered for the job, Martin must interview the patients to identify which one is really Dr. Starr.

Each of the patients has, of course, a horrifying story that could easily have broken an accomplished physician.  But which one?  Is it Bonnie (Barbara Parkins), whose plan to murder her lover’s wife goes wrong?  Tip for Bonnie: don’t kill someone who studies voodoo.  (This is the “Frozen Fear” chapter.)  Even though the wife is chopped to pieces and each of those pieces is individually wrapped and stored in a freezer, they magically come to life to seek revenge.

Is it Bruno (Barry Morse), “The Weird Taylor”, whose poverty drives him to murder and greed when he’s hired by a man (Peter Cushing) to sew a suit made of a mysterious fabric that seems to have a life of its own?

Is it Barbara (Charlotte Rampling), who was in an asylum previously and got into trouble while recovering at her brother’s home?  Things were going well for her until “Lucy Comes to Stay”.

Or, is it Dr. Byron (Herbert Lom), who experiments with “soul transference” to animate a small robot-like automaton?  Not my favorite chapter, this one bleeds into the overall movie’s finale, cleverly tying it all together.

I actually had forgotten the true identity of Dr. Starr until I watch Asylum recently.  I was expecting the obligatory twist ending; however, the movie was still able to surprise me after all these years.

As gruesome as the stories are, Asylum was rated only PG in its United States release.  This isn’t surprising; there’s not a drop of blood in it.  Any movie that can feature a hatchet murder with no blood and still be scary must have some good people behind the scenes.  Indeed Asylum does.  It was written by Robert Bloch (Psycho) and directed by Roy Ward Baker, who at about the same time was one of Hammer Films’ busiest directors.

Interestingly, the majority of the score is comprised of classical music in the public domain.  Hence, when Dr. Martin drives up the dusty road and walks up to the door of the old asylum, he’s accompanied by Night on Bald Mountain.  It’s a little overbearing in that context, but actually gives you a good idea of what might be hiding behind that door.

Asylum would be a perfect introduction to horror for kids.  It certainly impressed Tommy Terrell and me.  I can’t speak for Tommy, but the movie stayed in my mind from childhood into adulthood.  There’s something about it that inspires the imagination.  I’m sure it’s one of the reasons I continue to be such a big horror fan.

Tomorrow:  The Night Stalker & The Night Strangler!

Dr. Jekyll & Sister Hyde (1971)

At one of the trips to the drive-in you've been reading about this month, I saw the trailer for Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde.  Like most other horror movies at the time, I began hounding my parents to take me to see it when it came to Enid.  For some reason, with all the movies they took me to see, this was the one to which they objected.  I remember my father asking me, "There are operations that turn men into women; do you really want to see a movie like that?"  How's a seven or eight year old boy supposed to respond to that?  "Oh, no; gross!" I said.  And, until fairly recently, I had never watched Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde.

Of course, it's not about gender reassignment surgery at all.  Instead, it's a clever take on Robert Louis Stevenson's classic tale about an obsessed doctor and his alternative personality.  It's basically the same story, but instead of transforming into Mr. Hyde, Dr. Jekyll transforms into Sister Hyde.  It's a potentially fascinating angle from which to approach the source material, considering that we all have a masculine and feminine side.  We occasionally get in touch with this other side, but not usually with murderous results.

The gender reversal for the villainous Hyde is not the only interesting twist this Hammer Film takes.  In addition to that, it integrates the mystery of London's notorious Whitechapel Murders.  The movie doesn't identify the killer as Jack the Ripper, but we all know that's who it is.  But is Jack the Ripper also Dr. Jekyll or Sister Hyde?  And on top of that, two characters integral to the plot are Burke and Hare, famous grave robbers from Scotland who, in one of the literary licenses the movie takes, are relocated to London.

The opening of Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde is as schizophrenic as the title characters themselves.  With the lush score by David Whitaker, it doesn't feel like a horror movie.  However, after the titles roll, the first shot is a fast zoom out from the eye of a dead rabbit as the butcher sharpens his knife.  We then witness a Whitechapel murder, the scene of blood splashing on the wall intercut with scenes of the rabbit being butchered.   Overall, Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde is one of the bloodier Hammer horrors.  Tame by today's standards, but five years from its demise, the studio was pushing the limits of gore in its movies.

The story then flashes back as Dr. Jekyll, age 30, is writing his testament.  He claims his "exciting scientific adventure" started with the arrival of Professor Robertson (Gerald Sim).  Jekyll (Ralph Bates) has been working on an antivirus to treat many diseases, but Robertson discourages him that he'll be long dead before he'd ever see the results of his research.  So he decides to explore a new avenue of research: an elixir of life.  After working long days and nights, he falls asleep for three days, during which time a fly to which he gave the elixir has survived way past its life expectancy.  Jekyll also finds out, though, that the fly's sex changed from male to female in those three days.

Jekyll employs Burke and Hare (Ivor Dean and Tony Calvin) to procure bodies of dead females, no more than 20 years old.  He needs as many as he can get to extract the hormone that's apparently the basis for his elixir.  (Later, when the supply of bodies runs out, the Whitechapel Murders begin.)  Jekyll first tastes the elixir himself almost 25 minutes into the movie.  Without the use of potentially fake special effects, director Roy Ward Baker uses his camera and a mirror to depict the transformation of Jekyll into Hyde.  Bates is a pretty man as it is and, with his hair long in the movie, you can easily imagine him turning into Martine Beswick.

Throughout Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde, there is industrious use of minimal resources to make the male to female transformations realistic and effective.  I particularly like some of the scenes during (or after) transformations when a hairy, male hand might caress a smooth, female breast.  In the finale, a broken mirror is used to not only demonstrate the change, but also to symbolize the split personalities of Jekyll and Hyde.  It's even more effective than the usual Jekyll/Hyde split when you see/hear a man temporarily speaking with a woman's voice (or vice versa).

Ten minutes in the movie after Jekyll first transforms, he realizes he might be "messing with things he shouldn't be."  But that doesn't deter him.  He goes through the typical debate about sacrificing "the lifeboat to save the streamliner."  By any means, though?  Of course.  Jekyll decides to take human life so he can ultimately prolong it.  And the Whitechapel Murders begin.  Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde is as dark and gritty a movie as the location in which it takes place.  Near the end, a character states that the fog is like pea soup.  And the movie looks like it was filmed through a slight bit of the fog itself.

There are many little touches I appreciate in Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde.  For one, Sister Hyde, needing something to wear when she goes out, tears down a red curtain and quickly puts together a fashionable dress.  (Scarlett O'Hara, or at least Carol Burnett, would be proud!)  For another, when the police turn up the heat on their pursuit of the killer, they don't for one minute consider that it could be a woman.  And another, as Hyde becomes more dominant (and Jekyll realizes it), the thing he seems to get most upset about is that women's clothes keep arriving at his apartment.  A final example is a line when Hyde is seducing Robertson.  She tells a meddling neighbor, "Two's company; three's a positive deviation."

Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde concludes much like any other movie based on Stevenson's novel.  But it's neither the opening nor the closing that makes this movie special; it's everything that happens in between.  Overall, it's not as entertaining as some other Hammer horror films.  But it's a solid effort.  I'll credit screenwriter Brian Clemens for its originality.  He'd again mesh components from different sources three years later in Captain Kronos – Vampire Hunter (as well as write the awesome The Golden Voyage of Sinbad).  Don't listen to your father on this one, folks.  You should really watch Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde.

Tomorrow:  Asylum!