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
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
Much of the promotional material for A Return to Salem’s Lot features the caped, grotesque figure of Barlow, the head vampire from Tobe Hooper’s adaptation of the Stephen King novel ’Salem’s Lot. Fans of that 1979 TV miniseries will be disappointed to learn, however, that Barlow does not actually appear in the sequel, which strays pretty far from King’s source material.
Written and directed by Larry Cohen, creator of satirical horrors It’s Alive, Q: The Winged Serpent and The Stuff, among others, the film teases a few interesting ideas about the origins (and symbolism) of vampires in society, but never fully ties these concepts together.
The plot follows anthropologist Joe Weber (frequent Cohen collaborator Michael Moriarty), who must look after his troubled, foul-mouthed yuppie son, Jeremy (Ricky Addison Reed, in his only onscreen role). The father and son decide to restore a house left to Joe by his deceased Aunt Clara in the little town of Salem’s Lot, Maine.
They of course quickly learn that the townsfolk are all vampires, led by Judge Axel (Andrew Duggan), and they have a proposal for Joe: Study their ways and create a “Vampire Bible” to formally introduce the oldest race of creatures to the rest of the world. Joe appreciates the anthropological implications of this proposal, but isn’t sure about helping the bloodsuckers out.
Meanwhile, the vampire children of Salem’s Lot, primarily Amanda (a young Tara Reid), tempt Jeremy with a life of eternal youth, and a crusty Nazi hunter (cult director SamuelFuller) comes snooping around town. Will Joe and Jeremy choose evil over good, or will they “do the right thing” and fight the vampires?
Ultimately, the film isn’t sure what the right thing is, and thus, neither is the audience, leaving viewers more confused than ponderous. On top of this, A Return to Salem’s Lot is neither scary nor funny, making it a rather tepid entry in Cohen’s otherwise outstanding body of work. —Christopher Shultz
For every Cinema Paradiso, there’s a film primed to make us regret ever watching movies. Since 2016, Damien Leone has seemingly gone out of his way to put that “honorary” distinction on the Terrifier franchise. And he does a pretty damn good job at it. Still, pushing the grotesque envelope can only go so far until it eventually busts. With Terrifier 3, Art the Clown (David Howard Thornton) makes a tragic misstep from shockingly scary to schlocky slapstick.
After his head’s cut off by Sienna (Lauren LaVera) at the end of Terrifier 2, Art’s reanimated corpse reconvenes with his first victim turned disfigured villain, Victoria (Samantha Scaffidi), at an insane asylum. (Conveniently, she also gave birth to his head at the end of the second flick.) The starstruck lovers seal their union by ceremoniously bashing in the brains of an unsuspecting Chris Jericho.
Five years later, Sienna’s released from a trauma center to the care of her aunt (Margaret Anne Florence) and uncle (Bryce Johnson). She quickly reconnects with her niece, Gabbie (Antonella Rose), while trying to do the same with her similarly scarred little brother, Jonathan (Elliott Fullam). At the same time, Art and Victoria resurface to dismember families and blow up some children. You know, the usual.
Terrifier 3 isn’t outright bad. The kills seem somehow more brutal and deranged, and Leone’s choice to set the film during Christmas seemed like an easy way to frame Art’s violence toward children. It’s a setup that yields some entertaining payoffs, like when the clown toys with a drunken mall Santa at a dive bar. Yet these fun sequences ring hollower when the narrative that facilitates those scenes feels like an afterthought. Bone Tomahawk provides enough evidence that intense gore — even when it seems to be the entire point of a movie — doesn’t require a weak and uninspired plot.
Which begs the question: Why create any continuity for Terrifier at all? It ultimately feels like the best vehicle for Art was All Hallows’ Eve, Leone’s 2013 anthology film that used the clown as more of a chilling concept and occasional slasher villain. If the intent is to make Art into a lawless agent of chaos, Leone’s tale of angels versus demons seems like a horribly messy distraction.
That said, Terrifier 3 is still a gorehound’s smorgasbord. The supposedly gruesome opening scene, however, feels a bit overblown. Yes, it’s grizzly, but it feels like extremely familiar territory for anyone who’s watched 15 minutes of either previous film. And by the time we get to the real show stealer, a chainsaw massacre in a coed shower, its effect almost seems muted by what came before. The practical effects are still impressive, but beyond lingering on the brutality for a bit longer than usual, it doesn’t really feel like leap into a horrifying new direction. It’s more like a gentle shuffle.
As it stands (or hobbles), it feels like Terrifier has run its course. Art is still legitimately creepy, but he’s starting to resemble a black-and-white crutch for Leone. With the next installment alleged to be the last, it’ll be interesting to see the filmmaker try a bit more than excessive blood and guts. Because, ultimately, the gory torture porn is about the only thing that distances Terrifier 3 from a Lifetime original movie. —Daniel Bokemper
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 Dollshistrionics. 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
