Midnight Movie of the Week #137 - The Initiation

The Initiation is one of those movies that I always want to recommend to people, yet I never seem to recommend it to people.  That might be because it's really just OK as a whole film, but it also ignores the fact that The Initiation has pretty much everything I love about a slasher film that's just OK as a whole film.  And when the indomitable Stacie Ponder of Final Girl offered up a Film Club Second Chance opportunity to talk about The Initiation...well, I didn't have any excuse left.  Here's all the pretty things about The Initiation that make me smiley.

Daphne Zuniga - she of Spaceballs and Melrose Place and The Dorm That Dripped Blood - stars as a wonderfully simple survivor girl.  By simple, I of course mean she has that perfect combination of the elements a survivor girl needs.  First of all, most guys on her campus would date her if they had a chance.  Secondly, she seems to be aware of her surroundings and only partially superficial.  And thirdly - and most importantly -she has weird dreams and a traumatic past.  Put that stuff together, shake it, add a pinch of thyme and spread it over a cracker and you've got a tasty survivor girl treat.

Around your survivor girl, there are a few things you need for the slasher recipe, and The Initiation has them.  Established mature folks who can show up and effect the plot? Yup, it's got Clu Gulager and Vera Miles as Zuniga's rich and secret-keeping parents.  A bunch of fodder for a knifey killer? We are, in fact, talking about a film with a bunch of sorority pledges and their doofus boyfriends.  A setting to kill for? Just wait till you see this weird supermall/tower thing that shows up in the final reel.

(Oh, and The Initiation also has that weird guy who wasn't Pierce Brosnan on Remington Steele, complete with crazy hair and awful tie/blue jeans combo.  I know the guy - James Read - has a name, but he will forever be the doofus from Remington Steele to me.  Which is awesome. His role as potential savior via science is just one more of the film's random charms.)

Rest assured, dear reader, that The Initiation isn't just about the parts.  Believe me, this film is put together in ways you wouldn't believe.  The past trauma aspect of most slasher films is present, as much of the film's mystery comes when the viewer is trying to figure out what the flashbacks and visions we see really mean.  Our leads parents, played with grand ol' intensity by Miles and Gulager, add a lot to the film with their over-the-top reaction to their daughters trauma, which provides plenty of cheesy slasher drama.

 And while that's all going on - and while we all KNOW that something's wrong because we're watching a movie where people die in bad ways - the bubbly and bumbling supporting characters make all the wrong decisions that keep our movie going.  Heck, one character gives this incredibly sad talk about sexual abuse that feels very much like that Phoebe Cates "Why I Don't Like Christmas" speech from Gremlins - and then decides it's time to have casual sex in a mall for fun now that she's shared.  You can not force this kind of ridiculousness. But sometimes, it just happens.

Lastly, just when you think the film couldn't be more perfectly ridiculous, you get the final plot twist.  And it is a treat.  I can't even go into it here (it is, after all, a final plot twist), but you just need to know it's there and it's waiting for you.  And you need to go see it.  So head over to Instant Watch or a video store or my Lair - I got the DVD right here, let's party! - and check out The Initiation.  You'll thank me later.

Oh and - as always with the '80s - there's the fashion.  The glorious, glorious fashion. Gotta love it.

Final Girl Film Club - The Initiation of Sarah

(1978, Dir. by Robert Day.)

By all accounts, I am a dude of the male persuasion.  In my experience as a male person, I've never come across many initiations.  When I was preparing for college I spent a summer night in a fraternity during orientation, but I quickly remembered that I didn't like alcohol or polo shirts, and got the heck out of there.  I didn't get to any initiation phase, and am grateful for that.

Sarah, played by Kay Lenz, is not fortunate enough to escape that easily.  Sent to college with her sister Patty by her adopted mother, Sarah is an awkward creature with crazy jowls and a mean stare.  She wants to get into the best sorority on campus, along with her sister, but she's not cut out for their sort.

That decision is made by witchy queen bee Jennifer - played by Morgan Fairchild - who then sets out to separate the siblings.  Sarah is accepted into the nerdy rival sorority, and thus contact between the sisters is not allowed.  Sarah goes off to her old-school sorority, which looks like your grandparents' house with Tom Noonan's House of the Devil furniture.  I don't know what her problem is, because that's my kind of sorority house!

(Also, I should mention that Patty is played by future Dallas co-star Morgan Brittany.  I bring this up only because Ms. Brittany has pretty much the most piercingly beautiful eyes in the history of beauty.  I recalled them instantly from that odd vampire flick Sundown: The Vampire in Retreat, in which I also thought they were also piercingly beautiful, and now I feel safe saying that they kind of see through my soul and make my knees weak.  So yeah....where was I?)

Sarah has long had a strange ability to control objects with her gaze, which causes some tension when dealing with those who embarrass her.  This is when Shelley Winters enters as the house mother who wants to make sure that Sarah uses her powers to their maximum potential, even though she seems to be doing a good job on her own.  A mid film scene where Sarah stands up to Jennifer is a fantastic moment of self-confidence, but revenge is swift (and comes with an assist from Jennifer's hunky boyfriend, Airplane! star Robert Hays).  Despite her budding relationship with a wise psychology TA (Tony Bill) who enjoys leading half-cocked discussions on the duality of good and evil, Sarah wants to get a leg up on Jennifer. 

Since we're currently focusing on Mothers of Horror here at FMWL, I find it imperative that I focus a bit on Winters' character.  She might be just a house mother, but Sarah quickly follows her lead.  The house mother's first appearance is accompanied by ominous music and a mysteriously locked door - so it's pretty obvious that there's a darker side to her character.  That doesn't faze Sarah, and Winters' Mrs. Hunter ends up the Burgess Meredith to her telekinetic Rocky Balboa.  This is another example of a motherly character in horror who isn't exactly Mrs. Cleaver, though it makes for some great entertainment in the final act.

I know this sounds like it's basically Revenge of the Nerds meets Carrie...and it kind of is...but there's something magical about it.  We all ran into a bully or two when we were growing up, and The Initiation of Sarah harnesses those memories perfectly.  Fairchild is fantastically sadistic as Jennifer, and we really want to see her get what's coming to her.  But the film becomes even more interesting when Winters' character is played against the snooty sorority.  Caught in the middle, Sarah really seems like a lost soul who caught a bad break.  She rarely smiles (even when she's with her manfriend) and her stare of doom provides for some fantastic moments - especially in an early scene with a lifted piano.

There's not much to say about The Initiation of Sarah except that I kind of love it.  Maybe I was done in when I saw Ms. Brittany's eyes, or maybe it was the thrill of a suspended piano that just might crush someone at any moment.  Maybe it was Fairchild's gravity defying hair, or a possessed shower door.  Whatever it was, I loved it.  If you thought Mean Girls needed a few more cloaked sacrifices, this film's for you.

(Want to hear more about this rocking film - which happens to be on Instant Netflix, despite never making DVD? Then head over to Final Girl at some point on Monday and see what other Film Club Fanatics have to say!  In the meantime, stare into the eyes of Morgan Brittany and grovel.)

Final Girl Film Club - The Funhouse

1981, Dir. by Tobe Hooper.

(Note from The Mike: I apologize for the brief delay in starting this review.  I did a Google search for the film's poster....and then I had to take a time out to go brush my teeth.)

It's that time again, the time in which the Final Girl Film Club, headed by Stacie Ponder of Final Girl, takes its prisoners.  I willingly jumped at the chance to join in on this month's festivities, because the film chosen was Tobe Hooper's carnival-based horror The Funhouse, a film I'd been wanting to revisit for years. 

(To cover the popular topic regarding Hooper, I should state that I have no evidence that he actually directed this movie, besides the credits.  It's very possible that anyone from Steven Spielberg to executive-producer/Commando director Mark Lester to Mark Twain actually directed this movie.  I don't believe that, but I figured I'd clarify this point for the Hooper skeptics out there.)

Onward to The Funhouse, an alternately brilliant and disappointing piece of horror.  Hooper (if that is his real name), fills the opening act of the film with references to horrors past, covering the classic Universal monsters and Psycho in the opening scene that follows an ominous and effective credit sequence.  The opening sequence also blatantly mimics Halloween, using the first person slasher technique that little Michael Myers made famous.  The message that's immediately sent is simple - the filmmakers seem intent on reminding us that most of us crave the chance to be scared, but it's more fun if it's really happening - even if it's a goof.

In these scenes, we're introduced to our (very naked) protagonist, played by the uncomfortably young-looking Elizabeth Berridge.  It's quickly established that her Amy is the purest character in the film; strikingly similar to Halloween heroine Laurie Strode who was played by Jamie Lee Curtis.  While she isn't the commanding human presence Curtis was in that film - few have matched that trend-setting performance - Berridge carries the same low vocal tones and focuses a lot of her attention on appearing uncomfortable in social settings.  As she wanders the carnival setting on a double date with the hunky Buzz and her friends Liz and Richie, her eyes dart around quickly to assess her surroundings, and she forces smiles toward her friends to hide her concerns.  Berridge does a truly fine job becoming a teen who's in over her head, and her ability to emote goes a long way toward creating an uneasy feeling during the opening act of the film.  But more on her later...

There's plenty going on at this dark carnival that helps the viewer realize why she should be uneasy.  Amy and her friends don't do themselves any favors with their decision to go to the carnival at nearly 10 PM and the people they see there give her good reason to feel uncomfortable.  There's an imposing, uncoordinated mute dressed as Frankenstein's monster, a witchy fortune teller with a sharp tongue, a vampire-themed magician (Phantom of the Paradise star William Finley in a juicy cameo), and an ominous barker (or are there three different barkers?) played by veteran actor Kevin Conway.  Everything at the carnival seems to come with a coat of grime, and a haggard old woman appears around Amy at times to warn that "God is watching you".  The film might not make it all the way to being creepy, but it's at least an uneasy experience for the viewer.  The characters went out in search of something that would give them this reaction, but they don't seem like they've considered the reality of this situation.

Once the lights are out and Richie makes the boneheaded suggestion that they spend the night in the funhouse, the group witnesses the darker side of the freak show.  What follows includes prostitution, elaborate traps, and the reveal of that slimy mouth shown in the film's poster.  It belongs to Gunther, the barker's deformed son who was hiding under that Frankenstein costume, and he becomes the villain the group must deal with.  The film starts to become ridiculous around this point, as the build of the opening scenes erodes into a series of ridiculous set pieces inside the funhouse.  There seem to be swords and daggers everywhere, and everything is automated to kill.  I know Hooper's goal was to make it seem like The Funhouse is a living trap (in a way, the film predates Saw in this regard), but it never really seems that imposing.  There are some scenes that get under the viewer's skin - the one in which Liz begs for her life and offers the mutant sex stands out - but the whole second and third act seem to miss as often as they hit.  The setting inside the funhouse is surprisingly less interesting than the carnival scenes we saw before business hours ended.

Also off the mark is Berridge's reaction to the situation around her in the final scenes.  I can't go into details regarding the conclusion, but she becomes the anti-Laurie Strode as the tension rises around her.  While that character was a fighter who dealt with her fear as she battled to survive, Amy loses control completely.  She winces and screams and makes weird facial contortions and just freaks the heck out.  It's overacting to the extreme, and it kind of negates any effectiveness the finale could have had.

There seems to be a message behind The Funhouse's portrayal of these carny freaks, with the Barker repeating that the freaks on public display are "creatures of God" in early scenes (there are also a few references to some freaks being from my home of Iowa, but I'm gonna let that slide), and it seems like Hooper wanted to do something more profound with this.  But when it degenerates to the point of a screaming freak and a screaming girl battling amidst a bunch of huge gears, I instead spend my time wondering how the film got that far off track.

I like what The Funhouse offers, and the opening act sets everything up fantastically.  The rest of the film isn't necessarily bad, but it seems like the film squanders an opportunity to be truly excellent.  It's definitely one of the slimiest films of its era, which earns it a lot of points for being unique during a time in which horror became repetition, but the final product comes together about as well as poor Gunther's upper lip.

(If you don't want to take my word for it, head on over to Final Girl, where plenty of film-club rockers will have their takes on the film ready to roll too!)

Final Girl Film Club! Chuck Norris is Hellbound!

So it's totally time for another installment of the Final Girl Film Club over at that wonderful Final Girl place on the internet.  I missed the last go round, and when I saw that the next option was the soft-R-rated quasi-episode of Walker: Texas Ranger that pits Chuck Norris vs. Satan; I was kinda afraid I was being punished.  Alas, I rode forth, undeterred, crashing headlong into the following review.

Hellbound
1994, Dir. by Aaron Norris.

As you can tell by the poster to the left, Chicago cop Frank Shatter is a tough-as-nails fellow who's a lot like Chuck Norris.  He's also got a dreadlocked partner named Jackson who loves to make jokes about playing "good cop, bad cop" (which basically makes him that one friend that every one of us has who picks one joke that they think is hilarious and rides it for the rest of eternity).  Speaking of eternity, an evil force - Prosatanus, who is kinda a spawn of Satan and kinda Satan himself (Yeah, like anyone'd ever believe that argument) - who's survived some random events of 1168 and 1951 and randomly shows up in present day Chicago.  I think this is only because he wants to disrupt Jackson's ability to see the Bulls' playoff games. 

Anyway, the evil dude (who's extraordinarily creepy looking and portrayed by Christopher Neame) partakes in a bit of ripping out hearts and throwing them at Chuck Norris..errr, Detective Shatter.  Then, he disappears, and the cops head to Israel to track him down, with the help of that big haired blonde lady from Walker: Texas Ranger.

For a tough-nosed cop versus demonic-apocalypse-bringer film, Hellbound struggles to succeed at any of the things you'd expect to see.  In fact, there aren't even enough roundhouse kicks for my tastes, and the film stars FREAKING CHUCK NORRIS.  It seems that the Norris clan, with little brother Aaron in the director's chair, didn't quite want to sell out and make a dark satanic film, as this plays like a cross between that Walker show and what I'd imagine an Asylum produced version of The Mummy would have looked like.  In the action star vs. devil subgenre, Hellbound makes End of Days look like a masterpiece.  (Although, you don't have to sell me on End of Days, I kinda have a guilty love for it.  There, I said it.)

That's not to say there's not fun to be had at the expense of Hellbound.  Norris' beard is as fantastic as ever, and when the roundhouse kicks do hit, they hit hard.  Jackson, the sidekick played by Calvin Levels of Adventures in Babysitting fame, is truly a horribly written character (with Whoopi Goldberg's hair, to boot) that provides some laughable dialogue.  I already mentioned his "good cop bad jokes", but there are also plenty of awful "stereotypical yelling and being sarcastic" moments where the timid sidekick gets to say things like "Why don't you just cut my nuts off with a dull-ass butter knife?"  Oh, there's also the obligatory "it's a dark castle, so let's make a Dracula reference" moment, too.

Hellbound succeeds most - in a bad way - when making Norris and friends question the ludicrous plot.  When they finally meet a priest, the tough detective gets to deadpan a question about "this Prostanus, or whatever you want to call him", and when he's told that the return of said Prosatanus could bring about judgment day, Norris then chimes in "Judgment Day?", which allows the priest to ramble more about Armageddon and "hell on earth" - which then allows Jackson to make another snide comment.  The fact that this police sergeant has to put on a puzzled face and question what Judgment Day might mean plays right into one of my favorite things about B movies - "smart", heroic characters expressing no knowledge of concepts that most humans learn about at age three. 

The problem is, when the person making those silly remarks is Chuck Norris - who spends less than five of the film's ninety minutes roundhouse kicking demons or demonic heralds - it adds up to missed potential in my mind.  Such a shame.

(But don't take my word for it!  Head on over to Final Girl on Monday the 30th, and check out some other takes on the film from some of the best bloggers/writers in the history of ever!)

It's Alive

1974, Dir. by Larry Cohen.

(This review is written with inspiration from the Final Girl Film Club, over at the most excellent Final Girl blog. Go there for many other commentaries on and reviews of this flick...and other awesome stuff too!)

There's a scene near the beginning of Larry Cohen's It's Alive - which must be labeled as such due to a recent remake - that is as effective as any scene in any horror film I've seen. In it, Frank Davis (played by John P. Ryan) is standing in the hallway outside the room in which his wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is trying to give birth to the couple's second child. The actor's mannerisms fit the role of expectant father perfectly, as he paces quietly while eyeballing the newborns the hospital is already caring for. Though I've only witnessed the expectant father in his native habitat as a spectator (thank golly, y'all definitely don't want a Little The Mike runnin' 'round this place) it's easy for me to see that this man is comfortably in that place where "I'm gonna have a new kid" meets "Why the heck isn't this over yet?".

Then, the doors which lead to the birthing room burst open. Knowing the film's title and premise (and especially the wonderful tagline "There's only ONE thing wrong with the Davis baby: IT'S ALIVE") the viewer might expect a monstrous attacker, or a fleet of fleeing doctors, or at least some kind of shrieking scream. Instead, we simply get one male doctor, who gets outside the door, takes a deep breath, and falls limp to the floor.

Witnessing this immediately sends Frank, who was peaceful 4 seconds earlier, into a frenzy. He sprints down the hall, past attempted restraints, frantically attempting to reach his family. Along the way the camera lingers just enough to give us a glimpse of a nasty gash in the doctor's face, the type an animal's claw would probably leave. When Frank finally reaches his screaming wife, he finds a lot of blood, an umbilical cord that appears to have been severed by a bite, and a hole in the ceiling from which "it" must have escaped.

The trouble with It's Alive is that a scene that shows off that kind of brutality, both physically and mentally, is really difficult to top. Even in this case, where the viewer is left with little to no clue of what "it" looks like or really is, the dilemma that's left for our characters doesn't seem likely to top those few moments in pure terror. Though it's not really a bad thing to have a scene that is so affecting, it seems like the movie hits a peak that threatens to take the wind out of the rest of the film.

It's Alive manages to stay interesting through its 90 minutes, mostly due to the strong performance of Ryan (any aspiring horror filmmakers who want to know how to get the most out of their actors should really try to seek out Cohen, the man has some kind of gift) and the film's focus on the differing reactions the father and mother have to "it". But it also seems to drag at times, especially when the police get involved; and I never felt Lenore's side of the story was given enough screen time.

Despite these concerns, It's Alive has definitely grown on me during this second viewing. That hospital scene should earn it a place on any horror addict's "To Do" list, and Cohen is smart enough to avoid having the film fall completely on its face in the hour that follows that "money" scene. If you want to find the most straight-faced killer baby film out there, you can't do better than trusting one spawned by Larry Cohen.

City of the Living Dead - Stop the Teleporting Zombie Madness, I Want to Get Off!

1980, Dir. by Lucio Fulci.

If you've ever wanted to see someone regurgitate their innards - or at least some regurgitating of sheep innards that are meant to represent their innards - look no further than the work of Lucio Fulci. Case in point: City of the Living Dead (aka: The Gates of Hell, aka: Paura nella citta dei morti viventi, aka: Ein Zombie hing am Glockenseil), the multi-titled, multi-dimensional, zombie-ish film chosen as this month's Final Girl Film Club selection over at the entirely fabulous Final Girl horror film blog of justice.*

(* - Actual blog title may vary.)

City of the Living Dead is a film that has long perplexed me. I'd seen parts of it, but never got in a full viewing until last night. I always expected something similar to Fulci's Zombi 2 (aka Zombie, aka Island of the Living Dead, aka Nueva York bajo el terror de los zombi), but it turned out the films are about as far apart as two zombie films can be.

With a plot that follows a priest's suicide, a seance that opens the (partially) titular Gates of Hell, and a large dose of undead that appear outside windows or atop fences, City of the Living Dead is not your traditional zombie film. In fact, if the horror nerd world of today existed in the early '80s, I'd imagine the same sticklers that complain about 28 Days Later and [Rec] being listed as zombie films would have ripped at this one. I mean, if zombies have to be dead and can't run to be zombies (a train of thought which only considers one of the dictionary definitions of the zed word), where does the ability materialize out of thin air fit on the spectrum of zombie disqualification? That's a whole other cart of apples, so let's move on.

City of the Living Dead's biggest successes come when it seems to blur the line between the differing subgenres we've come to expect from horror, and particularly the Italian horror scene of this era. City of the Living Dead has zombie imagery that reminds of Zombie, but also spends a lot of time on dark streets where smoky fog is free to billow as needed. As mentioned above, this isn't a film in which the undead shamble around in search of brains; we instead are dealing with supernatural spirits who appear and disappear wherever they please. They're seemingly fronted by the priest who hung himself in the opening scenes, played with a Christopher Lee-esque intensity by Fabrizio Jovine. Jovine's sporadic appearances are among the highlights of the film, particularly his role in the famous regurgitation scene.

The film offers a very surreal quality, which is mostly due to the foggy streets, the blank-eyed villains, and a strong musical score from Fabio Frizzi. This helps make up for both the silly teleportation special effects and the simplicity of the story. It's most certainly a case of style-over-substance, but there are some unfortunate problems with that style that keep me from really loving the film.

Though the film only runs 93 minutes, there are times when it seems to stall entirely. It's bad when the plot stalls, but worse when the film seems to be taking a timeout. For example, there are a few scenes in which the camera shifts to a location to establish setting...and then lingers. And lingers. And lingers. And after about 25 seconds of just showing us this house's exterior, it finally moves into the room the characters are...and lingers more. At this point, I wonder how much he really has to let it linger, and get a little frustrated by the fact that I expected the film to remind me of a different song by The Cranberries.

While I prefer the approach Fulci took with Zombie - a more simple and even film - The City of the Living Dead is an ambitious and original horror that takes on a few more layers than I expected. I can appreciate that, even if I didn't find myself fully enthralled by the final product. (And I didn't even mention the Christopher George factor, which makes this fine material for a triple feature with Graduation Day and Pieces!)

So, if you're interested in City of the Living Dead, or in awesome blogs, I recommend heading over to Final Girl around May 24th of 2010, and checking out a myriad of posts on the film from some of the best blogs in the world (you can also get a more loving analysis of the film over at The Vault of Horror). I'll definitely be revisiting it in the future to spend more time trying to figure out Fulci's ridiculous zombie world, where the inventive gore and visual panache keep the dreamlike film afloat.

Midnight Movie of the Week #14 - Spider Baby or, The Maddest Story Ever Told

It's no secret that the horror icons from Universal's monster films of the "golden era", did not ride off into the sunset with their heads held high after the studio's reign of terror ended. Most know that Karloff stayed busy in TV and drive-in movies (including occasional masterpieces like Targets), and more probably know about Bela Lugosi's spiral down into failed improv-TV pieces, Ed Wood films, and drug addiction. But few focus on the career path of Lon Chaney, Jr., who played second fiddle to both of these men AND his renowned father. Chaney suffered from typecasting despite strong work in Hollywood hits like Of Mice and Men and High Noon and, as I learned while researching today's film, slipped into alcoholism in the later years of his life. Like Lugosi, he hit a low when he showed up on a 1952 live TV broadcast of Frankenstein drunk.

You might think a drunk Frankenstein could work, but it won't if that Frankenstein thinks it's a rehearsal and mutters "break later" while leaving each piece of furniture he's supposed to smash intact. (In fairness, who wants to watch a version of Frankenstein that's all furniture smashing anyway?) But fear not - Chaney, if only for the better part of twelve days, found something that inspired him to stay sober in 1964 - Jack Hill's script Cannibal Orgy, or The Maddest Story Ever Told (Yeah, I didn't expect that title to hold either...we now have Spider Baby or, The Maddest Story Ever Told).

Spider Baby is, in the simplest terms, one of the most original horror films I've ever found. The story focuses on the Merrye family and their "rare and peculiar" brain syndrome, which causes the deterioration of the brain as an individual ages. Chaney plays Bruno, the guardian of the Merrye estate and their three surviving children, who are definitely among the maddest characters ever known. There's Virginia, the spider-obsessed dark haired daughter who starts the murderous action in the film's opening scene; Elizabeth, the blond haired daughter who spouts verbal abuse while hiding behind a pouty face; and Ralph, a bald and drooling invalid played by resurrected horror star Sid Haig.Playing like a haunted house film with real-life haunters, Spider Baby picks up steam when a few visitors show up at the Merrye house. They include a pair of distant relatives (soap-opera star Quinn Redeker and House on Haunted Hill veteran Carol Ohmart) and a pair of nosy social workers (one of whom is Panic in the Year Zero's Mary Mitchel). The Merrye family's "secrets" simply must not get out, and Bruno begins to have more and more difficulty controlling the children as the night goes on.

Chaney is the star, but the rest of the cast is also fantastic. Beverly Washburn and Jill Banner are the Merrye daughters and, at 20 and 17 years old, are both able to harness their youthful exuberance into a fantastic bit of insanity. Redeker hams it up brilliantly (to this day he still hates his performance; but I find it to be the definition of unintentional comedy) and Ohmart willingly flaunts her bosom while playing the sexual target for Haig's goofy manchild. It's a good thing.

But Spider Baby is Chaney's barbecue, and it tastes good. The veteran plays off the young cast perfectly, pleading with the children with vigor as his character's resolve slowly fades away. Like his best performances in Of Mice and Men and The Wolf Man he's a physical presence, using facial expressions to advance the story and create a connection to the viewer. Near the end of the second act he provides a knockout monologue that proves he was a better actor than he had ever been given credit for, and I still remember nearly choking up in tears the first time I saw him deliver this incredibly heartfelt speech. As if the scene isn't sad enough, Hill speaks in the DVD commentary about the fact that Chaney, due to his health and the film's distribution issues, never got a chance to see the completed film that he cared about so much.I can't say anything more about Spider Baby without getting all gushy, so I'm going to keep my final statement short: See Spider Baby. To me it is without a doubt one of the most original, entertaining, and impressive B-movies ever filmed. And when you consider Chaney's path back to horror stardome, plus the path to distribution and the rescue from a slew of bad VHS copies (Hill goes into great detail as to the film's distribution woes during the commentary), I'd say the restored version of Spider Baby should be one of the treasures of any classic horror fan's collection. For me it's definitely more than just another Midnight Movie of the Week.

(Big props to Stacie @ Final Girl for choosing this as this month's Final Girl Film Club pick. Head over there on the April 12th to check out more reviews of a true classic!)