In the late 17th century, Godfried Schalcken toiled as a painter of candlelit portraits. In 1839, lesbian vampire creator Sheridan Le Fanu cast the then-deceased artist as the protagonist of a ghost story. And in 1979, the BBC adapted the tale into the hourlong made-for-TV movie Schalcken the Painter.

While Schalcken (Jeremy Clyde, The Musketeer) serves an apprenticeship under Gerrit Dou (Maurice Denham, The Alphabet Murders), he also longs for the lovely petals and pistil of Dou’s niece, Rose (Cheryl Kennedy, The Magnificent Seven Deadly Sins). As he pursues her hand in marriage, Schalcken is not without competition: an old guy (John Justin, Lisztomania) who looks suspiciously like a rotting corpse, albeit a wealthy one.

Written and directed by Leslie Megahey (The Advocate), the film looks appropriately stately and proper. Although elegant and elegiac, it moves at the pace of drying pigments. That renders the story as low-wattage as the candles Schalcken reproduces on canvas, with only the occasional beat of madness — too occasional, as my interest waned before evaporating.

In this spiritual realm, I believe the Beeb fares better with its Ghost Stories for Christmas. While Schalcken the Painter enjoys a reputation of admiration, it plays like Peter Greenaway were hired to helm an episode of Tales from the Darkside, which is to say the vision and execution are misaligned. —Rod Lott

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From concept to execution, The Christmas Tapes could be titled V/H/S: XMAS. Whatever you think of that lo-fi horror anthology franchise is a reliable barometer of your reception to this well-stocked project of merriment, mischief, mayhem and murder.

On Christmas Eve, the camcorder-captured celebration of a white suburban family — the kind with “Live Laugh Love” signs in place of art — is interrupted by an unexpected visitor. It’s Geoff (a wonderful Greg Sestero, The Room), a “stranded” driver asking to use their phone. They oblige.

Mere minutes later, Geoff has the clan at gunpoint, forcing them to watch unsung Christmas movies he’s brought on VHS cassettes. Said “movies” are homemade … and suspiciously acquired. Luckily, the modern family still owns a player; otherwise, this framing device would be for naught.

Numbering four, they range from a vlogging couple’s camping trip gone bad after summoning a German scarecrow (with jump scares galore) to spouses spending their first holiday season in their newly purchased house (complete with unexplained occurrences). Sandwiched in between is a quick bit in the POV of someone who has to deliver a package before a literally explosive deadline.

The best present of all finds a well-meaning dad (Jason Kuykendall) shipping an oversized gift box to his kids. Its contents: himself! To heighten the Christmas spirit, he hires a Santa to truck him there; unfortunately, this Kris Kringle (Vernon Wells, The Road Warrior) veers from the plan.

Although the aforementioned haunted-house segment allows Dave Sheridan (Scary Movie’s Doofie) to improvise a little too long, The Christmas Tapes satisfies as a maniacal party mix of playful terror and dark humor. The framing device holds its own as a story, too. My Christmas wish is for Sestero to again reunite with his Infrared directing duo for another dip into Geoff’s bag of found-footage tricks. —Rod Lott

Fresh out of college, California girl Meagen Mullen (Katarina Hughes, Pretty Problems) heads for the East Coast for a teaching job. Separated from her friends and family, Meagen starts a video diary, capturing her showing off her apartment, talking on the phone, fucking around with a Ouija board.

Then inexplicable things start to happen … except they are explicable, given the Ouija board and the hence-the-title murder of a woman named April in the place six months prior. With no suspects, the case has gone cold … and straight into a case of possession!

Although no found-footage landmark, The Death of April is better-acted than the horror subgenre is used to. Hughes seems cast from the Katie Holmes mold, with solid support from Adam Lowder as Meagen’s loving brother and Rent-a-Pal’s Amy Rutledge in a small, but pivotal role. As writer and director, Ruben Rodriguez (The Portal) in particular nails the interstitial talking-head interviews, lending these portions a patina of authenticity similar movies struggle to fake. —Rod Lott

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Lindsey Vickers’ The Appointment is the rare case of a Twilight Zone concept working perfectly well as a movie. Although Vickers’ story all but shouts how his story will end, he manages to tease suspense and turn the inevitable into a bravura sequence that literally turns things on its head.

Family man Ian (Edward Woodward, The Wicker Man) has to go out of town for a work obligation. This means he’ll miss the violin recital of his 14-year-old daughter, Joanne (Samantha Weysom, The Ritz). He and Joanne are bonded like Loctite Super Glue, so the news doesn’t sit well with her. Like, at all. Joanne’s growing petulance eats away at his empathy.

Thanks to a shocking prologue viewers should discover on their own, a discomfiting sense of dread pervades The Appointment. We know something irreversibly awful will happen, leaving us gripped for every bump of the ride. At once influencing Final Destination while recalling the expertise of Duel, Ian is pursued by what the rearview mirror cannot reveal: fate. How something this sure-handed remains Vickers’ lone feature is perhaps the only mystery any larger. —Rod Lott

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Somewhere around 1984, I got my first video membership. It was a small mom-and-pop store in an even smaller town, with the most eye-catching posters circling my being, relating to mid-80ers like Re-Animator, From Beyond and Ghoulies, for example.

And though I completely forgot about the 1987 movie The Kindred, I will never forget that poster featuring a baby’s bottle with a … slimy thing inside. It still haunts me.

Kindly physician Dr. Lloyd (Rod Steiger) apparently has an evil side, finding accident victims and conducting experiments. While trying to find some “journals” or whatever scientists do with written notes, he inadvertently kills his lab partner.

The deceased lab partner’s son, John (David Allen Brooks), who is also a doctor, is down with his girlfriend and some other students to find the “journals” on the experiment. Meanwhile, as John’s dog waits on the porch, a slimy thing breaks out of the cellar, eating him.

As all parties converge in the near-creepy house, slimy things get in through people’s skin, rooting around in the body and creating a new quasi-lifeform. It doesn’t make much sense, but it does have Oscar winner Steiger consumed by the monster, so that’s something!

But most of the movie is quite forgettable. I even forgot that Max Headroom’s Amanda Pays plays a mysterious scientist. She’s quite good in the thankless role, more than the movie deserves. But as far as I can see, this tale of science amok is, like the experiments, pretty half-baked.

I still like that poster, though. —Louis Fowler

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