Sung to the tune of “The Muffin Man”:

Do you know the pumpkin man
The pumpkin man, the pumpkin man
Oh, do you know the pumpkin man
In Jack-O, he’s very lame

Because good Christians in the olden times don’t cotton to sorcerers, a man by the last name of Kelly kills a warlock. To get revenge, that wizard, played by (visibly deteriorated stock footage of) John Carradine, conjures up a scythe-swingin’ man with an oversized pumpkin for a noggin. Call him Jack-O if you like, even though the movie Jack-O never does.

As Halloween nears in modern-day Florida, Jack-O (née Lantern) goes after a grade schooler in glasses named Sean (Ryan Latshaw, son of Jack-O director Steve Latshaw) because he’s the last of the Kelly clan. In the climactic scene, li’l Sean even goads his monstrous pursuer with, “Come and get me, pumpkin man!” Them’s fightin’ words, kid.

Meanwhile, babysitter Linnea Quigley takes a shower; Cameron Mitchell posthumously appears on TV via leftover footage; Sean’s ineffectual father (one-and-doner Gary Doles) turns his garage into a spookhouse; and Sean’s mom (Rebecca Wicks, Latshaw’s Biohazard: The Alien Force) forever looks like an unblinking deer caught in headlights. I dunno, maybe it’s just her perm.

It shouldn’t be hard to make a passable horror movie out of a gourd/guy hybrid, yet for about an hour and a half, Latshaw and his frequent producer, Fred Olen Ray, show you how soundly they failed. Their monster (Patrick Moran, Latshaw’s Dark Universe) looks cool, but — like the flick itself — barely bothers to move. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Whilst scouring for booze in the Catskills mansion they’ve rented for a birthday blowout, seven stupid collegians explore a basement full of astrological shit, including a — spoiler — deck of tarot cards. Haley (Harriet Slater, Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny) reads everyone’s fortunes. And I do mean everyone’s, which takes up a lot of time. 

Before long, the kids start to perish in ways their readings predicted, each carried out by the supernatural character on the card in question. For example, the birthday girl is the first to go, attic-laddered to death by The High Priestess. 

Tarot is the kind of dead-teenager movie that, 20 to 25 years ago, would have starred the likes of Chad Michael Murray and/or Rebecca Gayheart. However, the most recognizable face is this cast belongs to Jacob Batalon (Ned from Jon Watts’ Spider-Man trilogy), who essays one of the more annoying stoner characters the genre has seen this millennium. 

In today’s horror-film landscape, the concept is the true star. This one comes courtesy of Horrorscope, a forgotten (if ever known) 1992 paperback, but the source matters not with co-writers/co-directors Spencer Cohen and Anna Halberg squandering nearly any potential. Visually, the film looks drawn with only the darkest-colored crayons, so it’s difficult to discern what you’re seeing when it most counts: with the kills!

Among the death sequences, those featuring The Fool, The Hanged Man and The Magician emerge as the most notable almost by default, by virtue of at least getting a fair glimpse of the architects of these kids’ fates. (And you just know producers have a whole “Tarotverse” in mind with spin-offs spotlighting each villain.) Tarot is pedestrian at best, and it’s never best. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Any hatred toward the Rosemary’s Baby prequel Apartment 7A seems misplaced to me. After all, look what happened to Look What’s Happened to Rosemary’s Baby. I mean, director Sam O’Steen obviously is no Roman Polanski, but did anyone involved with this sequel see the original? (You, too, Ruth Gordon.)

The made-for-TV abortion picks up a handful of years after the 1968 classic film. Mia Farrow demonstrates good instincts for once by not returning as Rosemary, so Patty Duke fills the role with her Valley of the Dolls histrionics. Irked that her son’s bedroom is decorated with items from Hobby Lobby’s Goebbels/LaVey collab, Rosemary flees the home of those satanic Castavets with the tot, Andrew. Mother and child go on the run.

But because Minnie Castavet (Gordon) has somehow acquired GPS-enabled ESP, she’s able not only to pinpoint their location, but tell if a “colored fella” is present, too. Soon, a woman named Marjean (Tina Louise, SST: Death Flight) kidnaps Andrew by tricking Rosemary to get stuck on a bus driven by … no one! No one at all! AAAIIIEEEEE!

Prologue over, we meet adult Andrew (future Pontypool DJ Stephen McHattie, actually decent), having been raised in a “castle casino” by the ginger Marjean and her unflattering hairdo. There’s a devilish battle brewing for his bod to bring about a new dawn, but Andrew has not yet demonstrated his worthiness to obtain all of Papa Satan’s powers — not with those tiny, red laser-pointer eyes of his. The satanists’ bizarre ritual involves painting his face like a mime and dancing to fuzzed-out music.

Then a freak storm sends Andrew to a clinic where Donna Mills (Nope) works and pronounces “comatose” as “comma-toes” before mounting him to extract his demon seed and get it all up in there.

Although I never expected greatness, much less goodness, from this ABC Friday Night Movie, I don’t think it’s unfair to expect something resembling an effort. Not only is it tonally distant from its Academy Award-winning predecessor, it’s also dreadfully bad. Since Gordon was nearing 80, it’s possible she did not give a fuck and just wanted to work to stave death. Plus, it wasn’t like her Oscar would be rescinded — a knowledge nugget her onscreen spouse, the equally minted Ray Milland (taking over for the deceased Sidney Blackmer), also may have kept in mind.

Meager even by television’s lowered standards, the primetime-friendly horror elements feel disconnected from what Baby established; in fact, they have more in common with what was just around the bend: namely, Exorcist II: The Heretic and Dance Fever (you can choose which episode). Even worse, they make no sense.

This coven needed another bake in the oven. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.