Madhouse: (1974. dir: Jim Clark) Whimsical, if sometimes clodhoppingly heavy-handed, companion piece to 1973's Theatre of Blood, in which an aging horror icon is haunted by copy-cat murders from his "Dr. Death" slasher films. The cast of characters is nuthouse bold, with some of its camp reaching Rocky Horror levels of madcap, although without any trace of giddy humor. The acting is solid, though, with Peter Cushing as the writing-partner half of the "Dr. Death" duo, and lots of screaming lovelies meeting terrible ends. There's also a good deal of space given over to some hard-edged ribbing of Hollywood, its ways and means. Catherine Wilmer and Ellis Dale work particularly well together as a team of blackmailers. The ending, although absurdly far-fetched, is bold and enjoyable.
Halloween H20: (1998. dir: Steve Miner) Really fine sequel to a game-changing movie. The cast is stunning: Josh Hartnett and Michelle Williams, young and baby-faced but already in possession of the instincts and burgeoning skills. Jamie Lee Curtis brings us the grown-up Laurie Strode, finally getting her closure, in a well-written, well-shot, and well-directed movie. And did you know the mask was a white-faced William Shatner mask? Once Curtis says so in the extras, you'll never be able to look at Michael quite the same way again.
Dagon: (2001. dir: Stuart Gordon) A game effort at bringing one of those notoriously difficult works of Lovecraft to the screen. Based on "the Shadow Over Innsmouth" and relocated from New England to a spooky coastal village in Spain, it involves Gordon's usual bespectacled nebbish shipwrecked in a town inhabited by fish-people who worship the fish-god of the title. Gordon brings his visual clarity and enthusiasm, and his young-Raimi-esque relishing of unstoppable, howling monsterfests. The village is great, creepy and slimy and wet and decayed; the villagers are great, with their varying remnants of humanness and their eerie fish-languages.
Ezra Godden, like Bruce Campbell without the charisma, like Ted Raimi without the comic overlay, is game enough but uncompelling in the lead. All in all, it's too bad this doesn't spark entirely to life. On one hand, it feels like a lot of filler padding insufficent plot, and, on the other, like the dial is pushed up to eleven for too much of the time, and we slump back in our chairs indifferently after a certain amount of high-angst explosiveness. Still, the world itself is so real you'll feel the wetness creeping into your joints, making your bones creak; you'll smell the moldering rot.
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