Masters of Horror Season Two: "The V-Word."

In, "The V-Word," Masters of Horror's second season gets it's most mainstream (and in some senses, the scariest...) episode yet. Tobe Hooper's "The Damned Thing" is a deeply disturbing look at the cycle of familial violence repeated from one generation to another, and John Landis's superlative "Family" gazes at the underbelly of modern McMansion suburbia. I don't think "The V-Word" sub-text is quite so deep or spot-on...though there's a running comparison in Ernest Dickerson's episode to video game violence and "real life" violence that is worth mentioning.

No matter. "The V-Word" is chill-inducing. I believe it to be the most beautifully filmed (and stylish) of the MOH 2.0 episodes I've seen thus far, almost literally a "haunted house" tour of darkness and terror (which makes it appropriate viewing for Halloween...).

The tale finds two college students, Justin (Branden Naden) and Kerry (Arjay Smith), at loose ends one night. They decide to alleviate their boredom with video games by visiting an ominous local funeral home, tellingly named Collinswood (a sideways reference to the vampire family in Dark Shadows). What they find in that ghastly, dimly lit funeral home is terrifying. A real life, yellow-toothed vampire (played with gusto by Michael Ironside...) has killed everyone inside, but is still hungry for more. Kerry gets bitten by the vampire (or, more accurately, he gets his throat torn out...) and then he turns Justin into a creature of the night. But Justin doesn't want to join this particular club, especially since the cost seems to be feeding on his family, specifically his young sister...

The finest element of "The V-Word" is not really the plot (we've seen stories about reluctant vampires before; in films as diverse as Fright Night, Near Dark and Lost Boys), but rather director Dickerson's splendid staging and mise-en-scene. He brings every scare scene to life in a joyous, go-for-broke fashion. The set design of the Collinswood funeral home is beautiful - appropriately ornate and gothic - and the impenetrable, pervasive darkness generates a nice anticipatory atmosphere of dread. Revealing he understands the tricks of the trade, Dickerson employs a number of subjective first person shots, or P.O.V. shots, to help the audience grasp the terrain of the battle. That's a necessity for good "jolts," and Dickerson delivers the goods.

I predict that mainstream TV audiences will enjoy this episode the best of the three I've previewed on the blog because it so brilliantly and effectively lensed. The episode's finest moment arises as Kerry and Justin stand in the darkness of the funeral home, frightened. In the distance ahead, the only illumination comes from an EXIT sign over a doorway. That's their escape route, but to cross it, they must navigate a long, dark hall...where anything could be waiting. As you might guess, this is the set-up for a spine-tingling scene in which "obstacles" appear in the darkness to prevent egress. Also to the good: I love the John Carpenter-esque, pulse-pounding score, and I deeply appreciated Dickerson's visual homage to Halloween. There's a scene wherein a hero stands in the foreground (in focus), while behind him - in the background and in more diffuse focus - a villain believed dead suddenly bolts up, unseen. Yep, it's a Michael Myers shot...and it always works!

I think "The V-Word" also marks the first time in horror films or television, that I've seen a bloody I-Pod as part of the carnage; proof positive that the technology has officially suffused our society since now it's showing up in a "teen" horror-type story. Otherwise, I'm kind of diffident about the validity of the theme which rests at the heart of "The V-Word." There's some unspoken, contextual criticism of "kids today" with "their video games," (I'm paraphrasing). The template here is video game violence and death versus real life violence and death, and the writer's seeming belief that a generation of young gamers don't understand the difference. Tp wot. when Justin and Kerry explore the funeral home, one says: "In a video game, this is the boring part." Okay, I get what the story is going for; it's interesting enough, but it doesn't quite work for me. Perhaps that's because I know some very nice young fellas who are consummate video gamers. I can state this about them with utter confidence: at their age (early twenties...) they have already run circles around me intellectually, professionally and philosophically. They're responsible, courteous young folk - scholars, really - who view video games as a valid art form. They're on the vanguard there. This is how I viewed television fifteen years ago...and the rest of the world has caught up with that perspective. So I don't really buy the theme of this story that our kids have had their minds muddled by the format of video games. And horror is a genre for the young.

But this is a minor quibble, and ultimately beside the point. I don't have to "buy into" the theme to note that it is well handled as a leitmotif. And my reaction doesn't mean that "The V-Word" isn't a splendidly-shot show which horror fans will enjoy. And - oh yes - it's gory to the max. There's one scene where Ironside gets a syringe in his eyeball, and another moment whereon a victim's torn up neck looks to be holding on by a thread...or a sinew.

Trick or treat!

Masters of Horror, Season Two: "Family"

Masters of Horror premieres tonight at 10:00 pm, and in honor of its return, I'm blogging another new episode of the series' second season today, in particular John Landis's "Family" (by Brett Hanley). The great thing about anthology programs in general - and MOH in particular - is the versatility the format offers. "The Damned Thing" was straight-up gory horror, yet "Family" is a different breed all together.

In some sense, "Family" arises from the same genre school as that 1980s film The Burbs, or another 80s flick, The Stepfather. Basically, this installment serves as a critique of modern American suburbia, noting that the anonymity of these new communities (and gaggles of McMansions...) only makes it easier for a committed serial killer to do his thing. After all, our life-styles are always on the move these days. We moving from place to place (houses are investments in 2006, not just homes...), and we don't really have time (or the energy...) to put down roots in one place and really know our neighbors any more. Over the years, suburbia has gotten ribbed on The X-Files too (in the sixth season episode, "Arcadia,") but "Family" quickly finds a valuable niche. It's a satirical effort, unlike "The Damned Thing," and John Landis seems to be having a wicked good time with the material.

"Family" opens with idyllic, idealized views of the American suburbs. Lawns are neatly trimmed; flowers bloom under radiant sunshine; families and children work and play in apparent safety. Landis's camera soon roves in-doors, however, into the home of a most peculiar fella named Harold, played by George Wendt. The camera grants what Harold later calls his "grand tour," as the strains of Christian, gospel music play loudly on the soundtrack. A nice touch here: on one chest of drawers rests a portrait of a glowering Dick Cheney. Proof positive, if you ask me, that Harold is a nut...just look at the man he admires. Mr. "Last Throes" Delusional himself (important since Harold is delusional...). Anyway, the tour ends in the basement, where we meet Harold...and he's busy pouring acid on a decaying corpse.

You see, Harold kills people, burns off their flesh, scrubs their bones, and then lovingly re-constructs their skeletons to serve as his ad-hoc family. There's his little skeletal daughter, Sarah, his nagging wife, and his old man. During the course of the episode, we also witness Harold hunt a grandmother for daughter Sarah (who talks to him...) and consider also killing her a big sister.

As Harold lives his twisted family existence behind closed doors, the Fullers - David (Matt Keeslar) and Celia (Meredith Monroe) - move in next door. They quickly befriend Harold, and before long, the corpulent serial killer decides he'd like Celia to be his new wife. When David mysteriously disappears, Harold seizes his chance and invites the gorgeous Celia over for dinner. He wants to introduce her to his folks and Sarah...whom he has tenderly propped up in the TV room...in a pose of greeting.

This is the set-up for "Family," an installment which reminds us that, well, we don't always know our neighbors quite as well as we think we do. The episode moves along at a merry, swift pace until it culminates with a surprise ending and double-cross that balances the scales of cosmic justice. In terms of gore, one of the program's closing shots (in which the camera seems to travel up one character's nostrils...) also looks disturbingly real...

Not as gory as "The Damned Thing," "Family" shares in common with that episode is a dedication and commitment to something Hollywood often doesn't permit in genre films these days: sub-text. The commentary on suburbia subtly suggests that the middle class is going mad behind closed doors (and I'm not just talking about Harold, as you'll see when you watch the episode.) "Family" also benefits from Wendt's portrayal of a madman. This Cheers alum doesn't play the role as a lark and doesn't "camp" the character up either. Instead, he takes the part seriously. He plays a perfectly polite and genial fellow...who also happens to commit murder on a regular basis. It's a great, nuanced performance.

"Family's" ending, which brings just desserts to Harold (to the strains of more Jesus tunes...) is a fitting one, and the episode is a perfect treat for Halloween. If the rest of the season is as strong as the two episodes I've watched so far, it could be Halloween on Showtime all autumn long...

Showtime unveils Masters of Horror Season Two

Just in time for Halloween (my favorite holiday...), Showtime launches the sophomore sortie of its critically-acclaimed horror anthology, Masters of Horror. The idea behind this video endeavor is that many of the genre's greatest and most legendary directors (Dario Argento, John Carpenter, Tobe Hooper, Don Coscarelli, etc...) get a full hour - and a hell of a lot of creative freedom - to play trick or treat with TV audiences.

Last year, the series offered some memorable and spiky fare, including Tobe Hooper's amazing "Dance of the Dead," and Joe Dante's pointed political satire, "Homecoming, as well as the occasional misfire like John Landis's campy "Deer Woman." For me, "Dance of the Dead" is the one that still bowls me over: it's a nihilistic, brutal, dark venture that gazes at what could happen to small-town America after WMDs are detonated in our cities. This year, the self-same concept is a CBS series called Jericho...which is much more mainstream and (though I like it a great deal...), not so balls-to-the-wall and dangerous.

Considering how much I admire Tobe Hooper and loved "Dance of the Dead," I thought I'd begin my Halloween celebration this year by reviewing his season two entry for Masters of Horror, "The Damned Thing."

In Tobe Hooper's long and storied career, he has toiled quite a bit on the concept of horror originating from within a family unit, or corrupting a family unit. Consider the father/son "blood is thicker than water" murder team of 1981's The Funhouse, or the insane Sawyer family (the saw IS family...) in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) and its 1986 sequel. Even Hooper's remake of Invaders from Mars (1986) looks at parents and children in conflict, after a fashion (courtesy of a Martian invasion); as does Poltergeist (1982). So, it's entirely appropriate and keeping with his canon that Hooper would helm "The Damned Thing," an adaptation of a tale by Ambrose Pierce. Because under the horrific surface, the episode discusses the cycle of violence that exists from generation to generation in many American families.

"The Damned Thing" opens in 1981 in a picturesque, rural farmhouse in Red State America. Again - think of Texas Chain Saw - and Hooper knows this territory like Leatherface knows power tools. The Reddles are gathered around the supper table, sharing good family "quality" time, but we know something is awry because Hooper's camera circles the expansive table like a vulture throughout the entire scene, forecasting the terror to come.

It isn't a long wait.

The nice family dinner goes awry as Daddy Reddle snaps. He goes stark, raving bonkers, picks up a shotgun and blows away his wife while she's lighting the candles on his birthday cake. Young Kevin Reddle escapes his Dad's unmotivated killing spree, but then - from a hiding place on the farm land (in a tree...) - sees his suddenly-murderous father ripped to shreds by an unseen force...literally disemboweled before his (and the viewer's...) eyes.

Let me pause to say that the vicious, over-the-top death of Daddy Reddle is the goriest scene I've ever witnessed on television, cable or not. It's inventively staged (rather Raimi-esque in concept, if you ask me...), and I loved it! What happens is this: Reddle is repetitively spun around against his pick-up like he's a human ferris wheel while his guts are progressively ripped out in a torrent of red and brown. Yikes! The special effects folks deserve an Emmy nomination for this moment alone.

Anyway, flash forward to a quarter century later. Now Kevin is Sheriff of rural Cloverdale (and played by Sean Patrick Flanery). He's estranged from his wife and child, and worse, refuses to go back to his therapist to help him deal with the horror and trauma he saw all those years ago in his own family. Still...it threatens him and his family. In one scene, we watch as something malevolent and icky splits the skin on his forehead and peeks out. Yes, as we horror fans know all too well - the repressed always returns to wreak terror if not property confronted. Kevin was victim to an abusive, murderous father in 1981 and because he has not faced his personal demons, he will come to victimize his family too. The sins of the father and all...

Of course, this conceit about family and the cycle of violence spreading from one generation to another is merely the undercurrent of "The Damned Thing." Representing "the force of evil," (and, I think, Kevin's id...) in the flesh is an oil slick monster that destroyed the town of Sturgess in 1959 when a new oil well was opened in the ground. It is not only a corporeal threat (as the finale makes plain with some good CGI...), but an atmospheric one...meaning that it makes the town people in close proximity turn mean and violent. It felt like "poison" inside of her, according to Kevin's wife, Deana.

This is a brilliant template, especially as a playing field for that unpredictable surrealist, Tobe Hooper, and he has a bloody good time staging set pieces. It's not a joke or exaggeration to state that this episode about an evil oil slick is a "gusher" in more ways than one. For instance, there's another extremely gory scene involving a man who bludgeons himself to death with a hammer (thoughtfully using both ends of the tool before expiring...). Additionally, there's a welcome guest appearance by genre fave Ted Raimi, playing a dissolute priest who packs one mean pistol.

If, in the end, somehow all the narrative pieces don't quite fit together, and the climax is a bit too abrupt for my taste, "The Damned Thing" still works as a frightfully good "scare" piece and provides further evidence that Hooper - who, let's face it, is the post-narrative kid anyway - is functioning at the top of his form. Even if most of Hollywood doesn't recognize it. While discipline can sometimes be the friend of horror movies; Hooper understands that by breaking the rules of cinematic decorum and discipline, he can unsettle and chill the most hardened, experienced horror lover. He achieves that feat again in "The Damned Thing."

I've got a screener with two more Masters of Horror season two episodes, and I'll be blogging them both here as All Hallow's Eve looms! Masters of Horror returns to Showtime this Friday night, October 27 at 10:00 pm. Don't miss it!