Showing posts with label Carrie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Carrie. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 29, 2025

Monday Miniatures: Killer Klowns from Streaming Services


Welcome to Monday Miniatures, where I tell you about some of the stuff I’ve been watching in the past week that I wouldn’t otherwise get to share.


The week of Oct. 20-26, 2025:


Is This Thing On?, directed by Bradley Cooper

How I watched it: In theaters (TCL Chinese, as part of AFI Fest)


The first of two films I was able to catch at this year’s American Film Institute Festival in Hollywood, Cooper’s latest is his best film yet. I was lukewarm on A Star Is Born and did not care for Maestro, both of which felt a little forced and programmatic. Is This Thing On?, by contrast, feels real and lived in, with a genuinely moving emotional core.


Will Arnett and Laura Dern star as a couple getting divorced who, in their separation, discover or rediscover parts of themselves that seem to make them whole. Arnett and Dern were in attendance for a Q&A after the screening I saw, and Arnett, in particular, seemed moved and a little bashful about the well-deserved praise he received for his work in the film. Both Arnett and Dern are spectacular.


I hope to write more about this film in the future, so I will keep my comments here brief, but suffice it to say that this really feels like a movie by, about, and for adults. It doesn’t condescend. It doesn’t lower itself for a joke. It doesn’t judge its characters. It presents, honestly and truthfully, the difficulties of reaching middle age and wondering what any of it means anymore.


Will Arnett and Laura Dern at AFI Fest after a screening of Is This Thing On?


Ghost Elephants, directed by Werner Herzog

How I watched it: In theaters (TCL Chinese, as part of AFI Fest)


Two Herzogs always have existed: Narrative Herzog and Documentary Herzog. I don’t think it’s controversial to suggest that of late, Documentary Herzog is the superior filmmaker. While I liked Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans and My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done?, movies like Queen of the Desert and Salt and Fire are largely forgotten misfires. Meanwhile, docs like Grizzly Man, Encounters at the End of the World, Cave of Forgotten Dreams, and Into the Abyss are masterpieces of the form.


Ghost Elephants might not quite reach those heights, but for a filmmaker who has scaled Mount Olympus, scaling Everest is still pretty cool. Herzog, editor Marco Capalbo, and executive producer Andrew Trapani were on hand for a post-screening Q&A that was funny, charming, and enlightening in ways only Herzog can accomplish.


The film, a collaboration among Herzog, National Geographic, and scientist Steve Boyes, follows Boyes in his quixotic quest (a hallmark of Herzog’s films, both narrative and documentary) to track down the titular ghost elephants, fabled descendants of the largest elephant ever hunted and killed, making them descendants of the largest land mammal ever. The filmmaking is simultaneously grand and intimate, hauntingly elegiac and rollickingly adventuresome. 


Herzog, as ever, is more interested in the nature of the quest rather than the quest itself. This is not about accomplishing the goal of finding these elephants, which Herzog gets Boyes to admit probably won’t result in any profound, mystical understanding of the world. Rather, it is about accepting that the world is profound and mystical and the best we can do is exist in it, be part of it, and occasionally be awed by it.


Werner Herzog and Co. after a screening of Ghost Elephants at AFI Fest.


Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere, directed by Scott Cooper

How I watched it: In theaters (AMC Universal)


There are three major types of music biopic. There’s the “Dewey Cox needs to think about his entire life before he plays” type, skewered so well in Walk Hard and exemplified by Walk the Line, Elvis, and a whole host of others. There’s the experimental “artist as an idea” type, such as Todd Haynes’ I’m Not There or Gus Van Sant’s Last Days. And, there’s the snapshot variety, using a single moment or period in a performer’s life as a stand-in for that artist’s particular genius.


Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere is this third type, focusing on the year between “Born to Run” and “Born in the U.S.A.” when The Boss sat down, picked up an acoustic guitar, and got serious about his depression while writing and recording the Nebraska album. This is my favorite type of music biopic, and this film is a good reminder why.


By narrowing the focus, Cooper, who also wrote the film, based on Warren Zanes’ nonfiction book about the same events, is able to dive deeper into the individual moments and to allow the film around those moments time to breathe. It shouldn’t feel like such a luxury to spend 15 quiet seconds on a balcony at sunset, but it does because we’ve grown so accustomed to films setting a breakneck pace while trying to jam entire lives into two-and-a-half hours. By the end of those movies, it’s rare to feel like you’ve spent one authentic second with the subject. Here, it feels like we’re in the room with Bruce Springsteen for two hours.


I was never a big Springsteen fan, though I appreciate his music, so I’m maybe not the one to judge how close star Jeremy Allen White gets to evoking The Boss. I can say, however, that White readily evokes the spirit of a man whose past has finally come to bear on his present. From what I can tell, Cooper hews pretty close to the facts, with the exception of an invented (or composited) love interest. In doing so, the filmmaker offers an emotional insight into the artist that is rare and poignant. And, that’s all anyone can ask from a movie like this.


Weapons, directed by Zach Cregger

How I watched it: Amazon Prime rental


I think it would be fair to call this a Clown Horror (TM), in a manner of speaking, in which case it kicked off an accidental festival of clown movies. I did not intend to watch four in a row, and frankly, I didn’t even realize I had until I was done. Just the way it worked out. I also did not know this would be on HBO Max so soon after I paid $10 to rent it on Amazon. Also, just the way it worked out.


When Weapons came out in theaters, I saw it opening weekend and had a great time. Since then, it became a box-office smash, a critical darling, and a fan favorite. I have seen multiple sites touting this film for the Best Picture race and lauding it as one of the best films of the year. That’s not the movie I saw that first weekend, so I knew I would have to revisit it. Now that I have, I’m here to tell everyone to cool your damn jets.


Cregger is an undeniably talented filmmaker. The way he sets up the camera, the way he uses genre convention as a tool rather than a crutch, the way he toys with audience expectations – it’s all tremendous. I enjoyed Barbarian in much the same way. I look forward to whatever he does next. All that said, folks, this movie is incredibly flawed. The logic of its world is nonsense, its handling of marginalized characters is a problem (much like in Barbarian), and by Cregger’s own admission, the movie isn’t nearly as deep as people want it to be.


It’s particularly frustrating to see the praise heaped on this entertaining but ultimately silly movie after the polite but muted response afforded to the far superior The Long Walk, which is actually the movie people claim this movie is. And in a year with true horror masterpieces like Sinners and 28 Years Later, it’s baffling to hear Weapons brought up in the same breath.


I don’t want to come off as though I didn’t like this movie. I did. In particular, Josh Brolin and Julia Garner deliver tremendous performances, Cregger’s filmmaking is top notch, and the premise is deeply unsettling and intriguing. In my opinion, however, from a story standpoint, Cregger chooses the least interesting of all options to play out that premise. As a result, the third act is a mess, and the ending, while perhaps viscerally satisfying on some level, is tonally disjointed and thematically inert.


Clown in a Cornfield, directed by Eli Craig

How I watched it: Shudder


Yet, for all the words I just spent pouring water on the world’s Weapons enthusiasm, it remains leaps and bounds better than the other three movies I watched in my Clown Horror (TM) marathon. Which is not to say Clown in a Cornfield doesn’t have its charms. It surely does. Namely, while the title promises but one clown in a cornfield, the film in fact delivers many clowns in that cornfield. This was a twist I wasn’t expecting because, as you may have guessed, I was and am completely unfamiliar with the award-winning YA horror novel on which this movie is based.


I am a little embarrassed to admit that I did not realize Craig’s first feature was the classic Tucker and Dale vs. Evil, one of the great horror-comedies of all time and one of my personal favorite movies ever in either genre. Had I been aware of that, I would have striven to see this movie in a theater rather than catching up with it on streaming. I had wanted to see it on the big screen but just didn’t make it.


Clown in a Cornfield is not as accomplished as Tucker and Dale, but it is witty, gory, and tremendously fun. I hope we get more from Craig, who has made just two features in the 14 years since his debut, his last being 2017’s Little Evil. 


The Black Phone, directed by Scott Derrickson

How I watched it: Peacock


I watched this as a means of deciding whether I would check out the sequel that is currently in theaters. Now, having seen it, I’ll probably skip the sequel, at least in theaters. Derrickson and co-writer C. Robert Cargill are the filmmakers behind Sinister, Marvel’s Doctor Strange, and the “Dreamkill” segment of V/H/S/85, which takes place in the same universe as The Black Phone. I greatly enjoy their work, and there’s plenty to like here, but it’s a little shaggy.


Ethan Hawke makes a wonderful villain, and the child performances from Mason Thames and Madeleine McGraw are excellent. While light on scares, the movie is high on tension, and the parts grounded in the real world are sufficiently upsetting as to create a sense of dread and unease throughout the proceedings. My issue is that the supernatural elements don’t really jibe with the real-world elements, to the degree that you could largely lift them straight out of the movie and it wouldn’t change much.


Of course, the movie is premised on phone calls from beyond the grave and premonitions in dreams, but I submit that those are actually the weakest elements of an otherwise gripping thriller. Those pieces also contribute mightily to the shagginess I referenced, since it feels like multiple stories are going on at once that never cohere in a satisfying way. I see why Derrickson and Cargill were attracted to this material (the film is based on a short story by Joe Hill), but I hope they get back to the less-is-more thrills of their earlier hit, Sinister.


Terrifier 3, directed Damien Leone

How I watched it: Peacock


Speaking of a filmmaker who could benefit from a less-is-more approach, I give you Leone and the most recent entry in his Terrifier series. But, of course, “less is more” would hardly be the point of these films, so I digress.


These films exist to push the boundaries of gore and audience endurance. The filmmakers hope that people will vomit or pass out or whatever else. That’s the point. And for gorehounds, this series represents a badge of honor that says, “Look what I can handle!” Not one of these movies is a good film, in the traditional sense (you know, well developed characters, coherent storytelling, and competent camerawork and editing), but we can play fair. Let’s judge these on the basis on which they are made.


So, does this movie push the boundaries of extremity and gore? Not really, at least not beyond where the previous two movies took things. The first film is best remembered for its inverted splitting in half of a nude woman. We should pause to note that actress Catherine Corcoran, the inverted woman in question, recently announced a lawsuit against the producers of the franchise, alleging breach of contract, unsafe working conditions, and sexual harassment, specifically pertaining to this scene. I would urge gorehounds to keep this in mind when revisiting that first film.


The second film ups the ante by flaying a high school girl and keeping her alive (in the face of all known science) long enough to be discovered by her horrified mother, who is then killed. People will point to the shower scene in this third film as the pièce de revulsion, but there is nothing in the shower sequence as viscerally upsetting as those first two kills I mentioned. Kudos to Leone, at least, for having one of the victims in this case be a nude man who gets sawed in half starting at the genitals. Of course, there is still a nude woman in the scene to get sliced and diced, but baby steps.


What are its positives? At 125 minutes, it’s almost 15 minutes shorter than the second film. I mean that sincerely. These movies are plotless, formless excuses to eviscerate human bodies. At the two-hour mark, you’re no longer testing audience endurance; you’re testing audience patience and interest. What else? Given the financial success and cultural impact of these movies, Art the Clown has absolutely been elevated into the pantheon of great horror villains, alongside Freddy, Jason, and Michael Myers.


All that said, fuck sexual harassers. Pay Catherine Corcoran what she’s earned.


The Devil’s Bath, directed by Severin Fiala and Verokina Franz

How I watched it: Shudder


Fiala and Franz are an Austrian duo best known for their horror thriller Goodnight Mommy, which I have yet to see, though that may be rectified by the end of this week. I say that because based on The Devil’s Bath, I am incredibly interested in what these filmmakers have done and what they plan to do next. Be forewarned, The Devil’s Bath is not a “good time” in the strictest sense of the meaning, but it is a rewarding time.


Set in Austria in 1750, the film is based on historical records of the time, telling a true story that also stands in for a broader societal phenomenon, which I won’t spoil here. Anja Plaschg stars as Agnes, a woman who marries into a rural fishing village and finds herself crushed by the monotony of her day-to-day existence. Today, we would call that depression, but frankly in our treatment of Agnes’ symptoms, we haven’t come as far as one might hope in 275 years. Which is to say, Agnes’ treatment is mostly her husband and mother-in-law telling her to get over it.


The film also deals with the weight of religious belief and the ways faith becomes both a crutch and a justification for one’s actions. In costume and art design, the film has a tremendous verisimilitude, which reminds one of Robert Eggers’ The Witch, though I greatly prefer this film. This is a bold, challenging movie that won’t be for everyone, but if anything I’ve said sounds at all intriguing, I would encourage you to check it out.


Carrie, directed by Brian De Palma

How I watched it: In theaters (Million Dollar Theater)


A masterpiece that remains a masterpiece and only becomes more of a masterpiece when you see it on the big screen. This was my first time seeing Carrie in a theater and with an audience, and it’s an experience that I cannot recommend enough. Even if you’ve seen it a dozen times or more over the years (I estimate I’ve seen Carrie 25-30 times, largely thanks to how often it played on TNT in the ’90s and 2000s), you owe it to yourself to see it in a theater with a crowd.


I saw this at the Million Dollar Theater in downtown Los Angeles as part of the L.A. Conservancy Last Remaining Seats programming, which strives to highlight the city’s historic theaters. This screening was part of the Conservancy’s inaugural Halloween event, Last Remains. The evening also included a lovely tribute to Diane Keaton, who was among the Conservancy’s longest-serving board members and dedicated much of her life to preserving L.A.’s history and architecture.

Tuesday, October 1, 2024

Welcome to the 31 Days of Horror Redux


On this day, 10 years ago, I started a project called the 31 Days of Horror. Thirty-one horror movies in 31 days. It was a way of sharing my love for the genre by sharing some of what I considered, at the time, the greatest films in that genre. Now, 10 years on feels like the right time to revisit the project – but with a twist. Instead of my recommendations, I am going to be listening to the world’s recommendations and watching new films, myself.


Each day this month – October being the spookiest month, I think we can all agree – I will be watching at least one horror film that is new to me. I do not have a schedule planned, but I have a vague idea of the movies I want and need to see. I will write about each film in this space, each day, and share my thoughts on the world of horror.


There are no rules for this project, but I will try my best to seek out a variety of subgenres, marginalized filmmakers, and new voices. This should be exciting, hopefully as much for you as for me. At the end of this month, the goal is to be a better rounded horror film fan than I am as of this writing. I want to learn, I want to grow, and I want to understand the furthest corners (thanks, Frank) of what this wonderful genre has to offer. I hope you will come along with me on the journey.


However, before forging ahead, I thought it would be fun to take a look back. I have been in love with horror for essentially the entirety of my movie-watching life. From the time a misguided babysitter showed me Jaws at the age of 3 and I briefly avoided swimming pools like the plague. Or when that same babysitter, in an even more ill-advised moment, showed me Child’s Play at the age of 4. I had nightmares. I didn’t go to that babysitter much more after that.


The point is: Horror lives with me, and I live with it. I am neither dogmatic nor precious about it. Show me something new. Show me a new take on an old formula. Show me an old formula done well. Show me the schlockiest, most undercooked story and give me a cheap thrill. I love it all. I cannot vouch for the quality of it all, but my love is real. 


So, with that in mind, I thought it would be fun to kick off the 10-year anniversary of the 31 Days of Horror with a list of my 10 favorite horror films of all time. I have never done this exercise, and frankly, I am as interested to see how it turns out as you are.


A couple rules: First, I won’t repeat the same director, otherwise I imagine we’d be looking at a list of almost entirely Wes Craven and Sam Raimi movies. Next, single films only, no franchises, as tempting as it might be to highlight whole groups of movies. Third, I reserve the right to change my mind and update this list in 10 years. Fourth, this is about favorites, not best. While I think most if not all of the films below are legitimately great, my only endorsement here is that I enjoy watching them.


Finally, and this is less a rule than an observation: My definition of horror may differ from yours, and that’s okay. It’s great, even. That is the beautiful thing about horror. What is horrific to you may not be so to me and vice versa. I promise to play fair – no Jesus Camp, one of the most horrifying movies I have ever seen. Let’s see how this goes.


First a few honorable mentions and one jury award: Ginger Snaps, proof that when the right metaphor meets the right theme, magic is made; Paranormal Activity, without question the movie that scared me most as an adult; [REC], when people ask me the scariest movie of all time, there are a lot of candidates, but this is on the list; Trick ‘r Treat, just a ton of fun – all treats from minute one until its wonderful conclusion; and Tucker and Dale vs. Evil, a horror comedy that delivers laughs and gore in equal measure.


Jury award: Jaws. I had to break this out into a separate section because Steven Spielberg’s blockbuster is simply one of my favorite films of all time, but it teeters on the edge of what I would call “horror.” It certainly scared the hell out of a lot of people and continues to do so, but it’s mostly a drama that veers into thriller territory. Its moments of horror are suitably horrific, but they’re a little too few and far between for me to feel good about including it here.


Okay, onto the list. I wrote about several of these films at length in the original 31 Days of Horror series, so I will link to the longer pieces about each where applicable. Without further ado, my 10 favorite horror films of all time:


10. Leprechaun, directed by Mark Jones


Here’s my promise: Next year, on St. Patrick’s Day, I will devote an entire piece to my love of the Leprechaun films. We’ll get into the history of Trimark Pictures, the Jennifer Aniston of it all, Warwick Davis, and limericks. For now, I’ll just say this was a key piece of my starter kit as a child. There’s even a child as one of the leads. It’s not too scary. It’s not too gory. But it’s a helluva lot of fun, and it represents the kind of low-budget creature feature they don’t make enough of these days. And, it’s holiday-themed, to boot.


9. Carrie, directed by Brian de Palma


Some things that come to mind when I think about the greatest Stephen King adaptation (all due respect to The Shining): the hand at the end, of course; it is, perhaps, the most honest coming-of-age film ever made; the terror of religious fervor; Sissy Spacek and Piper Laurie delivering all-time performances; the number of times I watched this late at night on TNT, sometimes as part of the Joe Bob Briggs show, which was very important to me. A masterpiece.


8. Night of the Living Dead, directed by George Romero


In 2014, I called this the greatest horror film ever made. Ten years later, that opinion has not changed. There was great horror before Romero unleashed his film upon the world – Psycho, Frankenstein, Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, etc. – but this is the dividing line in modern horror filmmaking. This 1968 film sets the template for everything that would come after in terms of intensity, gore, and thematic depth. To this day, few films can match it in any of those categories, let alone all of them.


7. The Mist, directed by Frank Darabont


The feel-bad movie for all time (and the other Stephen King adaptation on my list). That ending. My god, that ending. For about 115 minutes, The Mist is some of the most intense and intensely allegorical filmmaking you are ever likely to see, then its final 10 minutes hit. Gut punch is too light a term. It’s more like one of this film’s monsters burrowed into you and exploded from the inside out. Not for nothing, but it also features one of the all-time great jump scares from my theater-going years, perhaps only matched by The Others. If you know, you know.


6. 28 Days Later, directed by Danny Boyle


Back then, I wrote a lot about this film as a pandemic parable – really, that’s just the text of the movie, rather than parable – and at the time, we were in the midst of the Ebola panic, which turned out to be a blip on the radar. Since then, we have all lived through COVID. Along with Steven Soderbergh’s Contagion, this provides a pretty accurate road map of how the world would feel in the grip of a pandemic. Suddenly, the parable that was always text became reality. That only made the movie more terrifying.


5. Tales from the Hood, directed by Rusty Cundieff


This omnibus of horror tales is the film that taught me movies could have a political consciousness. Not just horror movies, but movies in general. I cannot count the number of times I saw this Spike Lee-produced movie before I saw Do the Right Thing, so it was Cundieff who initially enlightened me on the abuses of police power, the scourge of domestic violence, and the false promise of “rehabilitation” in prisons. In many ways, this film is still a political guiding light for me.


4. Evil Dead II, directed by Sam Raimi


I could have gone with the original, The Evil Dead. I could have gone with the return to form, Drag Me to Hell. But if I am going to put one Raimi picture on my list of favorite horror films, it’s going to be this one every day of the week and twice on Sundays. This is the film where Raimi solidifies his status as a horror master. This is the film where Bruce Campell proves his bona fides as a leading man. This is the film where a man cuts off his own possessed hand and attaches a chainsaw to the stump. What else could you want?


3. From Dusk Till Dawn, directed by Robert Rodriguez


I waffled between this and the next film on the list a couple times. Two, three. Three, two. But I ultimately landed on this order because only the final 35-40 minutes of this film are actually horror. Everything before that is just an excellent crime picture. But, it’s that twist that makes this film so memorable. And, those last 35 minutes contain some of the gnarliest action-horror filmmaking you have ever seen. While the rest of you were watching E.R., this was my George Clooney of the ‘90s.


2. The Fly, directed by David Cronenberg


Speaking of, as a ‘90s kid, I should know Jeff Goldblum from Jurassic Park, and I should know Geena Davis from A League of Their Own. And, I do love those movies, although I actually prefer the Goldblum-led Lost World (a piece for another day). But, this is my Goldblum, this is my Davis, and The Fly is one of the most beautifully tragic romances ever put to screen. I knew that to be true, even as a child. That romance is ensconced in some of the most groundbreaking and influential body horror in film history, but it is a romance no less. 


The destruction of Seth Brundle’s body (pick your metaphor: cancer, AIDS, the ravages of age, what have you) is a brilliant effect, or rather a series of brilliant effects, but none of it means anything if we don’t care about the man at the center of it all and the woman who loves him. Cronenberg gets plenty of deserved credit for his work as a horror genius, but here, I must tip my cap to him as a master dramatist.


1. Scream, directed by Wes Craven


I’ve written about Scream a few times on this site, so I won’t rehash it here. I had seen horror movies before this, and heaven knows I’ve seen hundreds and hundreds since, but this is the one that changed everything. It spoke to me in a way movies had never spoken to me because it was about kids (played by obvious adults, but when you’re 8, teenagers and adults may as well be the same thing) who loved movies, just like I did. They knew everything about horror movies, just like I wanted to. One of the characters worked in a video store, which just seemed impossibly cool.


This film laid the groundwork for a decade of horror cinema that had more influence on my taste than probably any other era of any other genre. I Know What You Did Last Summer, Urban Legend, Final Destination, and the many sequels to all of them. I watched them all. I loved most of them. But, nothing holds a candle to the film that started it all. The direction is so smart. The writing is so smart. Within their world, even the characters are smart. All of which adds up to a film that treats the audience as smart, which is one of the rarest and most precious things in horror.