Angst and Nightmare Cinema

"Nightmarish" is an adjective that gets thrown around a lot when describing horror movies. What doesn't scare you may be terrifying to someone else, and all art is subjective and yada yada... you know the drill. Yet, I'd feel hard pressed to get anyone to describe Gerald Kargl and Zbigniew Rybczyński's 1983 masterpiece Angst as anything less. Most films elicit their scares solely from what's being depicted onscreen. Clever use of audio, whether in the form of the movie's actual score or a well-timed DUN, certainly helps to accentuate fear. And let's not forget about framing, about what, as an audience, we are and are not allowed to see. All of these elements, when expertly combined, help to craft an unforgettable cinematic experience. This sense of fear has been mastered time and time again by the films you'd expect to see in any "definitive" ranking of spookiest of the spookuloids. You know, you're Halloweens, your Exorcists, your Shinings. But nowhere, and I mean NOWHERE, do I ever see Angst listed. And when it is, it's certainly not near the top. Which is a shame, because Angst is one of the most terrifying, unnerving, twisted and genuinely unpleasant films I have ever seen. 

Erwin Leder, billed as K., The Psychopath, expertly portrays our unhinged antagonist, who in turn is loosely based around real-life Austrian mass murderer, Werner Kniesek. Leder appears completely immersed in this character, and we watch K. slink, crawl, scuttle and stumble throughout the course of the movie. Having grown up around people suffering from mental health issues throughout his childhood (Leder's father worked as a doctor in a psychiatric hospital), Leder was able to channel this into his performance to a unnerving degree. This background helps make K. seem all too real, which in turn makes all the impulses he acts upon seem all the more horrifying.

Immediately the viewer will notice the camerawork. In fact, the cinematography, courtesy of co-writer and editor Zbigniew Rybczyński, tends to be the focal point whenever anyone discusses Angst. It's not without reason, however, as the camera literally slides and glides all over the place. The opening shot, one that appears to be a very slow tilt as the camera crawls down the side of a penitentiary, is so cleverly crafted that it gives off the impression that the viewer is just as low and scummy as the man we follow throughout the course of the following 83 minutes, as if we're watching this from a sewer. It's like a bastardization of the celebrated opening shot of I Am Cuba, except instead of feeling like you're immersed in a great rooftop party you're actually a dung beetle scuttling towards the filthiest pile of shit in existence. 

Unhinged men in cinema is nothing new and while there are countless great examples to pick from, all too often these characters become elevated to celebrity status and worshipped by edgelords the world over. I mean, how many people do you know who still point finger guns at you while saying, "You talking to me?" Yet, what separates these men from someone like K. is that all these anti-heroes have some kind of plan, some kind of end that they must meet. K., however, fully acknowledges that everything will come crashing down sooner than later, and its that ferocity, the race against the clock, that truly makes him seem animalistic. He's in a complete frenzy, like a cross between the homeless man in the green suit from Holy Motors and the central character from Clean, Shaven, just absolute, complete desperation. 

Honestly, this whole movie is one big kaleidoscopic, hyperkinetic ordeal. It's not for the faint of heart, and I'm not saying that because there's excessive gore or violence. It's just that intense. Imagine putting your foot all the way down on the gas pedal but the floor is made of instant-dry cement so there's no letting up, even though you're coming up to a bend in the road. Angst will certainly sit well with fans of Possession, Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer or the works of Gaspar Noe. It's thrilling and enchanting, despite being downright nasty and foul. It's in a league all of its own. In fact, it's utterly nightmarish.

Summer of 84 (2018)

When a genre has been around long enough a canon is eventually established, a pantheon that consists of all the greats. And with this canon comes the accompanying literature. Think pieces on why certain films deserve to be remembered. Books observing a particular decade or movement. Listicles showcasing lost or forgotten films. Articles begging you to reconsider a particular film or to denounce another. This is the kind of film literature that interests me the most. See, I love connecting the dots and seeing what influenced what, when it did so, how it achieved it and, most importantly, why. Why is the main question I was left with after viewing Summer of 84, the latest film in the trend of 80s revivalism that's become vogue these past few years.

Directed by a trio of filmmakers who all joint-directed the retro-heavy Turbo Kid back in 2015, Summer of 84 is another film designed to service the 80s fetishization crowd. Some of these films I find to be genuinely good, like The Editor or It Follows, while others prove to be more interesting in concept but lacking a little in execution, much like The Guest or The Strange Colour of Your Body's Tears. And then there's the one note, uninspired, and just plain lousy film club populated by the likes of Kung Fury and, sigh, Turbo Kid. So where exactly does this leave Summer of 84?

This is where my thoughts began to wrestle with one another. Summer of 84 isn't a "bad" movie. It's really not. It's funny, it's compelling, and it has heart. It's an entertaining romp that combines the ragtag adventurousness of The Goonies, the innocence of Stranger Things, and the lurking dangers and banality of Fright Night's suburbia. It has the pulsating synth score, the arcade machines and the clothing accessories. Yet the key ingredient here is still Stranger Things. Would this movie even exist without the smash-hit television show? Probably not. Is that okay? Honestly, yes. Yes it is.

You see, a cultural canon is more than just a template for how to create an effective piece of art: it also serves as a barometer for what we think will stand the test of time. Some filmmakers utilize this to create elevated pieces of dread that simultaneously pays homage to the greats while still treading new ground, much like David Robert Mitchell's It Follows. Others setup their tape decks to create a mixtape that serves solely as a compilation of what came before it and this might be the best way to describe Summer of 84: it is, without a doubt, a mixtape movie. There's no pretentiousness here. No claims of being the most frightening movie you'll ever see or the most challenging. This movie is meant to go down easily and bubbly, like the can of soda you would crack open around midnight during the sleepover you were hosting back in junior high school. At some points it feels like low-hanging Stranger Fruits. It's designed to be a hodgepodge of all the elements you find most comforting.

Which is easily apparent when watching this movie. The film is effortlessly easy to follow. There's no puzzle box twists, no complicated subplots, nothing of the sort. The only surprise I felt was the tonal shift presented in the third act of the film. And while this shift almost betrays the tone of the film entirely, I can't help but admire how dark it actually is. Without spoiling too much, it reminded me of The Mist and the incredibly dark left turn that film took (though I guess that reference might spoil it a little, now that I think about it). If one was to draw a map of the direction of the film's plot, it would literally be Point A connecting to Point B and that's it. Roll credits.

And this is where people will differ. Some will see this film as a complete waste of time (why watch a knockoff when you can watch the original?) while others will be fine with its unsubtle homages to better films. I fall into the latter category. I like seeing what is essentially a live action fanzine. And while I wouldn't consider it worthy of entering our cultural canon, I can't deny that it still serves as a competent love letter and a friendly reminder to never forget your roots. Summer of 84 is nothing particularly new and despite going down like a basket of boneless Stranger Things, it's still a lot of fun while consuming it.

Terrified (2017)

I think we need to take a minute to appreciate what streaming services have provided to us genre fans over the past year. Hulu debuted a new horror anthology series based on the Stephen King universe, Castle Rock. Netflix premiered notable films such as Cargo, Apostle, Hold the Dark and The Ritual (one of my absolute favorites from this year) among others, as well as a new television adaptation of Shirley Jackson's spine-tingling classic, The Haunting of Hill House. And Shudder... well, Shudder has been busy doing the dark lord's work. They've been giving a home to horror since their inception and this year has easily been their best year yet with showcasing original films like Revenge, Hell House LLC II and Satan's Slaves. They also provided a home for the SYFY channel's creepypasta anthology show Channel Zero (season two, No-End House, is now up and I can't WAIT) and hosted the return of cult icon Joe Bob Briggs and his Last Drive-In show in the form of a 24-hour horror movie marathon. It's no wonder that horror hounds flock to this streaming service in droves.

Shudder released a new film this past Friday called Terrified (aka Aterrados) and a LOT of buzz has been flying around the internet a few days prior to its release. Most notably Birth.Movies.Death. ran a piece entitled, "Horror Fans: It is Your Moral Imperative to Watch TERRIFIED on Shudder this Weekend". This excited me as well as took me by surprise and the following thoughts immediately flooded my head:

• Birth.Movies.Death. is a publication that I trust when it comes to their genre recommendations.
• Wait, this is the "first" paranormal film to come out of Argentina? GIVE IT TO ME NOW.
• Have I ever seen a film from Argentina? No? Challenge accepted.
• Is it lunch time yet?
• Also, how have I never heard of this before?

The original language festival poster.

My fingers are usually kept pretty close to the pulse of the horror community and upon a cursory Google search I found that other internet publications are declaring that this is one of the scariest movies in modern times, a true gem and, as one site puts it, "scary and cool AF". Now, we've all heard these phrases tossed around before, like a few months ago with the premiere of  Hereditary or, if we go further back into the year, with A Quiet Place. Hell, I heard it again earlier this week with the new film Antrum, which is being touted as "the deadliest film ever made". But, if I'm going to be honest, that's all I really need to hear to sell me on a new horror movie. Just the promise of something unique and different is more than enough to get me going and what can do that better than a foreign horror film that everyone is suddenly raving about?

And yeah, sure, just because a horror film is foreign doesn't excuse it from being terrible, but different cultures can provide new insight and context into well worn tropes (I'm thinking of films like Veronica, The Wailing or A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night). And it's this shakeup of modern horror tropes where Demián Rugna's Terrified truly shines. We usually see evil in the form of hauntings as rooted to one specific area, usually a house or a manor, and once your outside (or at least off the property) you're safe. In Terrified, the evil is infectious enough that it can spread, in this case to a couple of close-knit houses located in small neighborhood in Buenos Aires. Each house has its own particular haunting: a couple's life is turned upside down when one of them beings to hear whispering inside her kitchen sink, next door a man is terrified by an elongated man who unfurls from underneath his bed at night, and across the street a mother's sorrow is exacerbated when her recently deceased son returns home and knocks over a glass of milk. 

Fuck that milk ayyy

Enter a team of elderly paranormal researchers. Along with a local police officer, the three members each seclude themselves to one of the houses with the intent to solve, soothe and fix what troubles and ails each home. Each localized bit of horror brings with it different elements to create something ultimately captivating and new: possession, reanimation and voyeurism. The film deepens its lore by stating that looking a certain way will unveil things that are usually hidden by the naked eye. Here, angles are everything and will absolutely determine whether you live or die. We see this through one our characters who view things outside a window differently depending on where they are standing or when our police officer is trying to rescue someone from inside a cabinet. Things get really Lovecraftian from here on out and Stuart Gordon's From Beyond  and Silent Hill is one of the many films that popped into my head while watching this. It's all great fun until, unfortunately, it isn't.

While the first two acts are genuinely very creepy it all begins to unfold by the third act. Perhaps juggling all these different ideas became too much to handle? Too many loose threads? While ambiguity is something I thoroughly enjoy in films Terrified does so in a way that's much like a fire being doused with a bucket of water. It just... kind of ends. There's no real explanation to why this is all happening outside of some inconsequential mumblings about tap water. Characters do stupid things like sit in front of gigantic cracks in walls where clearly something will come crawling out of. New situations arise from our character's actions, like when a little boy records his dead friend sitting at a kitchen table, but nothing comes of it.

Rule no. 1: Stay away from weird cracks.

I really wanted to like Terrified a lot more than I did. Which isn't to say that I don't. The first two acts are genuinely really creepy and unsettling. The hauntings presented here are very unique and horrifying in their own right. But much like this years Ghost Stories, it just didn't fully land on its own two feet by the end. It has less to do with the performances or atmosphere than it does with the script: it just ran out of gas. Still, if you're horror fan whose seen it all or just someone wanting to expand their Halloween palette with more foreign affairs, then I would absolutely recommend checking Terrified out.

Hell House LLC (2015) and Breathing New Life Into the Found Footage Film

It's fascinating how much creativity can be harvested from a subgenre many now find uninspiring and lifeless. The found footage film, which can be traced back as far as the early 60's, was a very novel branch of filmmaking that amounted to much more than being a mere gimmick. Producing such genre staples as Cannibal Holocaust, Man Bites Dog and The Blair Witch Project, the found footage film carved a permanent home in the cinema landscape (particularly in Hollywood) after the release of the long-shelved, DIY frightfest, Paranormal Activity. Paranormal Activity is seen by many as the subgenre's popularity reaching its peak, as the subsequent deluge of sequels and hackneyed ripoffs soon flooded the market to the disdain of many. And, while I will personally go to bat for the first three Paranormal films, I can't argue that my eyes rolled so far back into my head once the fourth, fifth, and finally sixth installment came out. This is a perfect example, much like the Saw films before (and during) it, of an original horror idea being literally dragged out behind the shed and beaten senselessly.

Despite all this, I (and many others) are endlessly drawn to these kinds of films. While there have been more than a handful of recent gems, such as Trollhunter, Creep, The Sacrament, and Willow's Creek, there have been countless films that have amassed to no more than a big ol' stinky pile of cow manure. We're talking about those films you tried to forget, like Alien Abduction, The Devil Inside, Apollo 18, The Last Exorcism, and Quarantine. It's very easy for these kinds of films to fall into its genre tropes, such as knowing just about everyone is going to die, that the case will forever remained unsolved or closed (thus leaving room for the inevitable sequel), and the countless, pointless, downright stupid jumpscares. It's when the horror is crafted to be subtle, much like the gems and staples listed above, that a found footage film achieves more than just being a subpar roller coaster ride. And that's exactly the kind of horror Stephen Cognetti creates in his first feature film, Hell House LLC.

The film follows a small documentary crew trying to piece together the tragedy that unfolded over opening night at Hell House, a haunted house attraction put together by a small team who scare people for a living. Only one member of this founding team lived to tell the tale and it's through her accounts and bag of security video tapes that we get to see the full extent of the story. And this is Hell House LLC's strongest suit: slow, unraveling horror over the course of a few weeks. Again, the horror here is very subtle and thus proves to be incredibly effective. It's a found footage horror film shot almost entirely inside an old, haunted building that's being rented by a group of people who decorate it as an old, haunted building. The disintegration of friendship and subsequent paranoia of living in a place withholding a sordid history starts to creep in. It's a setup so easy, so simple, so effective that it's almost mind-boggling that no one thought of this before. It's like Grave Encounters by way of Tobe Hooper's The Funhouse.

We see horror by way of inanimate props being positioned in ways that are impossible. The slight turn of a clown's head. The banging of piano keys from a stuffed dummy. The figure of someone (or something) lingering in a doorway. There are so many secret entrances, claustrophobic corridors, strobe lights and black curtains housing the next room's attractions that it's easy to get lost in here, even after having explored the whole building with the characters for over ninety minutes. And, to top it all off, there's an absolutely terrifying clown. Clowns are something that never truly unnerved me. I like my Killer Klowns from Outer Space and It well enough but they never creeped me out the way they do for many people. Until now. As of 9/22/18, I am now afraid of giant, inanimate clowns. Seeing it at the foot of the staircase that led up to the crew's sleeping quarters is easily one of the most unnerving scenes I have seen all year.

Seriously, fuck this clown.

We live in a time where cheap horror movies are being cranked out and dumped on streaming services at an alarmingly fast rate that it's easy to be overwhelmed while browsing. And while the idea of a near endless supply of cheapies seems fun there's also a downside to all of this: that, along the way, new voices and creativity will unfortunately get lost in the mix. Hell House LLC is a title I have passed over countless times, always assuming that it was the kind of garbage that got dumped into the recesses of Amazon Prime for a reason. Luckily, I was wrong, and wound up finding such a gem that I can't wait to spread the word to everyone I know. The film is flawed, sure, and perhaps the climax leaves a little to be desired, but the haunted tour Stephen Cognetti guides us through is unforgettable. This is easily going to become one of my new favorite Halloween movies.

Mandy (2018)

Can new life be squeezed out of tried-and-true genre tropes? History says yes and if you look the evidence is literally everywhere. One has to look no further than the horror film, whose multitude of subgenres have all been receiving its fair amount of attention due to new filmmakers overhauling the limitations and expectations of its very classification. The slasher film, famously reinvented in the 90's thanks to Wes Craven's Scream, has once again been jolted back into life thanks to films like The Guest, Hush and You're Next. The possession film has taken hold again, mostly thanks to indie stalwart The Witch and this year's incredible Hereditary. Monsters and boogeymen are still terrorizing people in films like The Babadook and It Follows. Films detailing psychological horror personified as serial killers is now best seen in television series such as True Detective and Mindhunter. But, much like trying to classify the serial killer subgenre (does it ultimately belong under horror or thriller? Is thriller an offshoot of horror?), the revenge film can fall into multiple categories. A film like Last House on the Left is undeniably considered to be a staple of the horror genre, yet at its heart it's truly a revenge film. Horror, grindhouse, cult, revenge... all these films usually get cast under the same umbrella, most likely because, at some point, you know you're going to see something grotesque, violent and probably fucked up.

Which is why trying to classify what Mandy really is... is kind of hard. Director Panos Cosmatos has crafted something totally new here, a monolithic ode to genre that utterly transcends its individual limitations (the revenge film, the cult film, the... fantasy film?) and becomes this whole new beast. At its core Mandy can be sold as a revenge film: a cult kidnaps Mandy and her husband proceeds to murder everyone who destroyed their life together. But that's boring and I'm not interested in talking about the plot of the film. I'm more fascinated in how completely transcendent the films is. Remember that YouTube show, Every Frame a Painting? Well, consider this Every Frame a Prog Metal Album Cover. Some filmmakers have to pad out their runtime to make sure their movie meets a certain length. That is not the case here, as you can tell that every single scene- no, every single frame has been meticulously crafted to serve a very particular need. Not a single second is wasted here which ultimately creates a stunning portrayal of grief that is, at the same time, serenely surreal. It's honestly a very calming film throughout its first act.

The film feels like a hallucinatory collage of cosmic wizardry, prog rock, dinged-up fantasy paperbacks, Ralph Bakshi cartoons and heavy metal. Scenes of this seem like they were lifted off the side of an 80's Chevy van depicting an epic chainsaw fight with biker demons. Or, as Cosmatos has stated here, they feel more like what one thought the contents of an off-limits VHS tape would hold. There's something about 1983... the date first stood out to me when Flying Lotus (another artist who revels in the past to create works that are absolutely and stunningly original) used it as the title for his debut album. It's also the year that saw full-length debuts from artists such as Metallica, Slayer and, most importantly, Dio. Ronnie James Dio is the grand wizard who first wove fantasy and heavy metal to such dizzying heights and his influence can absolutely be seen here.

The film literally opens with King Crimson's Starless and segues into a beautiful, ethereal score from the late Johann Johannsson with assistance from famed Sunn O))) guitarist, Stephen O'Malley. Top it off with the added guidance of producer Randall Dunn, whose work with atmospheric hard rock/metal bands like Earth, Sunn O))) and Wolves in the Throne Room (among countless others) and, well, you're left with a score that helps accentuate the action on screen to the 666th degree. It's a metal/industrial hybrid that absolutely works and sticks in your mind long after the film ends. Mandy is literally the ultimate heavy metal movie.

It's so rare that a movie you've been hyping up in your mind for well over a year not only delivers but literally tramples over any and all expectations you may have held. Upon it's release in 1970, El Topo became an immediate cult success and thus became known as the first "midnight movie". And while Mandy is a very different kind of film, it still struck a cord with its audience. A very specific cord, one that will guarantee it the cult status it deserves while also allowing it to join rank with the midnight masters who are still seen on the big screen today, decades after its original release. May Mandy live on forever.

Demon Wind (1990)

The current health and cultural resurgence of genre cinema is reliant on many things, but none so heavily as nostalgia. Though much has been said about the culture surrounding "toxic nostalgia", particularly in our instant gratification informational age, nostalgia has also done a whole lot of good for the genre film. The signs are everywhere. A cursory glance at what is on slate for 2018's genre offerings highlights films such as the ethereal and transcendent Mandy, throwbacks such as Summer of 84 and Let the Corpses Tan, and new iterations of horror mainstays like Suspiria, Hellraiser and Halloween. Hell, even the upcoming film, Death Kiss, worships nostalgia so much that they cast a man who looks almost identical to the late Charles Bronson (though if that's a benefit really depends on who you're asking). And it's not just filmmakers solely benefiting from this. Enough time has passed that a whole new generation of historians are adjusting their rose-tinted glasses and putting out essential tomes dedicated to the field's more esoteric bits, like Grady Hendrix's Paperbacks from Hell or Michael Gingold's upcoming Ad Nauseam: Newsprint Nightmares from the 1980s (which debuts early next month). And with these new set of eyes comes new reevaluations of forgotten and overlooked films.

Enter the physical media distributors, who are the true champions of this realm. For without them, many of these titles would remain semi-lost or forgotten forever. I'm talking about labels like Arrow Video, Scream Factory, Vinegar Syndrome and many, many more. By offering second chances to films almost lost by time, many of these new scans eventually make their way to the theatrical circuit, much like Suspiria's critically lauded 4K scan from famed company Synapse Films did last year. (Though Suspiria has left enough of a cultural mark that it's unlikely it'll ever become forgotten, much less lost.) While labels like Scream Factory and Arrow Video offer a lot of fan favorites, it's companies like Vinegar Syndrome, it's subsidiary Intervision Picture Corp, Bleeding Skull and more that are truly paving the way in offering genre fans a look at the deeper cuts.

And in this case it's all thanks to the good folks over at Vinegar Syndrome, a company so dedicated and passionate that they even fund their own scans at their homebase (check out this great interview with co-owner Joe Rubin!). Whenever VS drop a new title it's time for a celebration. Aside from the painstakingly new transfers and boatload of bonus content included in the overall package, they also provide our revival/repertory culture with a new film to foam over. Sometimes the films are great and prove to be essential viewing. Sometimes they're just okay. And other times they're a whole lot of fun, much like Charles Philip Moore'd Demon Wind.

Demon Wind is essentially a riff/homage of Evil Dead/Night of the Demons mixed with the gross-out attention to detail seen in the films of the great gore maestro, Lucio Fulci. I mean, really, there's some disgusting pus/bile bubbling out one character's mouth within the first five minutes of the movie. The setup is familiar: a young man is "called" via dreams to come to an old farmhouse where his grandparents mysteriously died and his father committed suicide in while accompanied with enough friends to offer enough victim fodder to keep the viewer happy.  And that's basically it. You have your mad gas station attendant who tries to ward off the young group, you have your incantations written in Latin smeared across the walls, and... wait, a woman who turns into a baby doll that erupts into flames? An old woman who drops a snow globe which results in her house exploding in a great big ball of fire? A weird, tongue-like tentacle unfurling from the mouth of a cow's skull? How has nobody been talking about this?

Released on home video on VHS but entirely missing during the DVD boom, Demon Wind finally finds it new home and audience with this VS Blu-Ray release. As for the movie? It's okay. Definitely not essential viewing but also not worth missing out on. For those fans who have seen it all, I would recommend seeking this one out. It has enough practical effects and fun characters to keep you entertained and would be a great addition to anyone's month-long Halloween binge that is just around the corner.

Creepshow 2 (1987)

The horror genre is ripe with anthology films. Mileage varies, but these package films have delivered some all-time greats that have made their way into the horror canon: Dead of Night (1945) and Kwaidan (1964) are both considered to be stone cold classics, not just by horror fans but by films buffs in general. And while there are a handful of greats from the late 70s to the early 90s (think Trilogy of Terror, Tales from the Darkside: The Movie or even Tales from the Hood), ask anyone what their personal favorite is and I can guarantee you that most will refer to 1982's Creepshow. A wickedly funny, disturbing and hammy ode to the EC Comics of their youth, George Romero and Stephen King created something special with the first Creepshow. But can lightning strike twice?

Directed by Michael Gornick (who shot the first one), written by George Romero (who directed the first one) and based on stories by Stephen King (who wrote the first one), Creepshow 2 tries it's damned best to recapture the glory of its predecessor but ultimately falls a little short. It's not the directing that's bad. Nor is it the dated animation or cringey racial/sexual tensions that arise in all three stories (which would make for a great analysis piece, somebody please do this). It's really a case of the budget, which was drastically scaled back on this installment for better or for worse.

For worse, there are only three stories this time around compared to the five told in the previous film. One of them, "Cat from Hell", eventually made its way into the Tales from the Darkside movie while "Pinfall" unfortunately just never came to fruition, here or elsewhere. On top of that some of the effects, particularly the oil-slick-goop-puddle-blob-monster, looks like a giant trash bag covered in jello. And that's where my criticisms end because the other effects in the film are great! The animated statue of "Old Chief Wood'nhead" looks deceptively rustic and seeing the black blob in action is quite a sight. Seeing one character get his body jackknifed through the raft into the lake or the woman whose body comes up for one last bout of air, her body literally a moaning skeleton covered in goop, is all B movie gold. And let's not forget the undead hitchhiker, who, once he finally catches his prey, is content with just slobbering all over her should while his eyeball is slowly popping out. It's an absolute blast.

I first saw Creepshow 2 on TV when I was a wee kid. Everyone has their own version of this story, but it was one of those moments where you're flipping through the channels and just stumble upon a movie you know you're not allowed to see. Watching this old ass, gigantic wooden statue slowly walk around murdering people is exactly what a little kid wants to see, but it's the oil slick blob that really screwed with me. Growing up swimming in a lake every summer... this was the last thing I'd ever want to see... so of course I watched the whole thing, horrified, and thought about it for years afterwards. My parents were very against horror movies when I was young, so I would relish any chance I could to sneakwatch them. I have a lot of fond memories from this time, and aside from my first viewing of Evil Dead (or, more like a "scene" from Evil Dead: I was so terrified after a couple of minutes that I actually left my friend's place and ran home), this segment featuring horny teens being mutilated and devoured by this sentient oil slick-blob just really freaked me out.

Horror anthology films have come back into fashion in recent years and honestly it's a jolt that is desperately needed. What better way to show off the budding talents of filmmakers with films like the V/H/S/ series, XX and Southbound, all of which made waves upon their release. And let's not forget those anthologies credited to a single filmmaker, like Trick r' Treat or this year's (albeit a tad bit underwhelming) Ghost Stories. It's a format that deftly suits the horror genre and one that I really hope doesn't go away. Honestly, in today's nostalgia-steeped zeitgeist, I can't wait for the next filmmaker(s) to create something like Creepshow: a self-aware love letter to the horrors of old... complete with a decrepit bow and puns galore.