Despite my whole “whatever it is,” I am not, in fact, immune to the spirit of the season. I don’t have a costume lined up, but there are voluminous bags of candy to be deployed, John Carpenter’s themes remain in heavy rotation on the turntable and I’ve been steadily making my way through a stack of recently remastered and (to me) discovered horror movies from a mostly forgotten age.
Setting aside the main-est of mainstream entertainments, heads tend to actively diminish the 1980s as a cinematic era, a placeholder between the Golden Ages of the ’70s and ’90s. Not entirely unfair but, as with most virulent fandoms, the arbitration of the cool — the assigning of merit — must by its nature undermine the value of the other, the perceived less-cool. And so the exploitation movies of the ’70s, those Corman-concocted, budget-less exercises in freedom within the frame of genre, get the credit for the rise of independent cinema. They were, after all, the dream-stuff of a generation that would go on to temporarily reclaim Hollywood and redefine American movie cool. But there was an in-between, and it was/is not without its significant merits.
Each year, the Criterion Channel curates multiple horror slates for the month of October, with evergreen favorites supported by less-ubiquitous but often just-as-meritorious stuff. Two years ago, in a period when my consumption of movie and literature was shored-up by a long period of sobriety, Criterion hosted a phantastic array of ’80s horror (primarily but not exclusively American) that made me reevaluate both my relationship to the period as well as its greater influence. I came to realize, of course, that the programmers at Criterion are only the tip of the sword: Legions of pale or swarthy or sweaty nerds toil in the darkness at boutique labels across the land, unearthing and restoring and repackaging these gems for consumption for other, consumerist nerds like myself. After my initial 31-day foray into the joys of Reagan-era cinematic terror and sadism, I began adding previously unknown horror picks to my growing 4k and Blu-ray stacks, much to the chagrin of my ever-patient, oft-bemused spouse. I’m paging through a sub-stack now, all movies I’ve watched recently, under cover of night as I surreptitiously indulge my passion for the season. Some are notable for their pedigree, but most (and I don’t imagine I’ll be surprising everyone) bear revisiting for their level of craft and for the degree to which they were stolen from to serve the hip-culture cinema of the following decade; plus they’re all fun as hell.
Most recently I doubled The Howling (1981) with Halloween III (1982), both previously notable omissions from my watched library. The former, Joe Dante’s follow-up to Piranha (1978) after his tenure as editor of trailers for Corman’s New World Pictures (he would go on to direct a number of other, more widely accessible hits in the ’80s), recasts the werewolf myth in a contemporary setting, accenting it with delightfully repulsive creature effects and some lines of dialog (screenplay by Terrence H. Winkless and John Sayles) that may have found their way into a script that, decades later, would win an Academy Award. It’s clever and hip and gross, with a command of the camera and the edit with which creepshows are seldom imbued anymore.
Skipping the latter of those two has been a source of personal shame, it being one of Humboldt’s most exciting visits from Hollywood. With the Loleta Cheese Factory, in its former glory, standing in for Silver Shamrock Novelties, Halloween III — a study in what might have been, as the franchise had a brief, unrealized life as an anthology series rather than a half-century Myers masturbatorium — gives writer/director Tommy Lee Wallace and director of photography Dean Cundey, under the aegis of Carpenter and Debra Hill, to truly stretch out and stylize a compact little story about child murder.
Happy Birthday to Me (1981), directed by frequent Charles Bronson collaborator J. Lee Thompson, similarly enlivens the deaths of a small-town’s elite, private-school teens with probably unnecessary but constantly enjoyable dolly and tracking shots, a patently unbelievable final turn and an abiding glee at its own grotesque inventions.
Amy Holden Jones’ The Slumber Party Massacre (1982) was one I had heard referenced but never seen, a rare example of a woman-directed, girls-in-peril slasher. It’s got one of the few satirical topless pillow fight sequences in modern cinema and also invents a couple of oft-stolen visual riffs.
My Bloody Valentine (1981), a mine-bound killing spree better suited to the current manufactured holiday than the one against which it is set, had, until recently, been another buzzed-about but unseen vital text. It shares a self-knowledge, charmingly handmade quality and elevation of style — ingenuity born of necessity rather than unlimited freedom — with the other movies discussed herein, along with a roughness fostered by its “young people at the edge of the greater world” setting.
John J. Bennett (he/him) is a movie nerd who loves a good car chase.
NOW PLAYING
ABSOLUTION. Liam Neeson plays a gangster trying to retire from reluctant employers. R. 112M. BROADWAY, MILL CREEK.
BEETLEJUICE BEETLEJUICE. Jenna Ortega joins Winona Ryder, Catherine O›Hara and Michael Keaton in the resurrection of the creepy comedy classic. PG13. 104M. BROADWAY.
THE CARPENTER. Tale of the brawler turned carpentry apprentice (Kameron Krebs) to Jesus. PG13. 112M. BROADWAY.
GODZILLA MINUS ONE. The kaiju origin story goes back to its roots in postwar Japan for intense horror with emotional weight. PG13. 125M. BROADWAY.
HERE. De-aged Tom Hanks and Robyn Wright in decades-spanning drama centered on a family home. PG13. 104M. BROADWAY, MILL CREEK.
HITPIG! An animated pig and elephant road movie voiced by Andy Serkis and Jason Sudeikis. PG. 86M. BROADWAY, MILL CREEK.
JOHN WICK (2014). Happy 10th anniversary to all who celebrate. R. 101M. BROADWAY.
SMILE 2. A pop star (Naomi Scott) is plagued by scary faces and suicides in the horror sequel. R. 127M. BROADWAY, MILL CREEK.
TERRIFIER 3. The scary clown with bad brows returns for Christmas. NR. 125M. BROADWAY, MILL CREEK.
TRANSFORMERS ONE. Bros-to-enemies origin story for the robo-cars. PG. 104M. BROADWAY.
VENOM: THE LAST DANCE. Symbiotic besties on the run. Starring Tom Hardy. PG13. 110M. BROADWAY (3D), MILL CREEK (3D), MINOR.
WE LIVE IN A TIME. Cry along with Andrew Garfield and Florence Pugh, flashing back over the shared life of a couple and their difficult future. R. 108M. BROADWAY, MILL CREEK, MINOR.
THE WILD ROBOT. A robot makes friends in the forest in this animated adventure. PG. 102M. BROADWAY, MILL CREEK, MINOR.
For showtimes call: Broadway Cinema (707) 443-3456; Mill Creek Cinema 839-3456; Minor Theatre (707) 822-3456.
This article appears in ‘Doing its Part’.