This is a bit of a cheat, but I technically watched the last few episodes of season 1. I’d wondered how they were going to fill the last few episodes after Pazuzu had been banished from one of the girls, but we get hit with a right hook with Angela/Regan’s possession – much like Regan’s mom, who gets her neck fatally snapped before being tossed down the stairs.
I’d like to go on record as saying I hate the insult ‘stinkpot’, though. Pazuzu would have infinitely worse things to say.
“You coming to the pub, Chainsaw Phil?”
“I can’t – I’m going to a horror talk on animation at The Horse Hospital.”
“Look, man, if you don’t want to join us, just say so.”
It’s my first full season as a proper pass-holder, and my third lecture of this year’s winter semester of the Miskatonic Institute of Horror Studies. And not only was it on animation, but the venerable Robert Morgan (creator of the amazing The Cat With Hands), was there!
My friend woke up in a terrified panic while watching this.
I have waited for this. I was so excited. And the first episode of SyFy’s blindingly brilliant horror anthology series Channel Zero did not disappoint.
No-End House is the only Creepypasta I’ve ever read – I’ve not even read the famous ones like Slenderman or Jeff the Killer – but, much like Candle Cove before it, this expands on the source material in a faithful way, while reaching new heights of trippy, creepy production design.
Starring both Jon Lovitz AND John Astin (with a cameo from Sandra Bernhard on the day that I was just thinking, “Whatever happened to her?”), this ended up being one of my favourites, not least because its creepy undertone and series of reveals reminds me of about a dozen cheesy horror stories and urban legends I voraciously consumed when I was a teen.
In “Top Billing“, episode 5 of season 3 of Tales from the Crypt, the former – a curious mix of a smug, pretentious yet failing and mediocre actor – answers the latter’s ad for an amateur production of Hamlet. Marginally more successful fellow actor Winton (Bruce Boxleitner, a name I’ve always enjoyed reading) shows up to audition just to try piss Lovitz’s character off, and piss him off he does.
Events take a predictable turn – then…
(SPOILERS AFTER THE JUMP)
I’m not sure how to spell the name of this film. The actual short has it listed as ‘The Copy-Writer’. The trailer says it’s ‘The Copy Writer’. It’s actually spelled ‘Copywriter’. I know, because I used to be a fucking copywriter.
In hindsight, that should have been a clue. But I don’t like to form an opinion until I’m done with a short (even a 9-minute one), and I can safely say this was, to put it kindly, lacking.
The story is simple enough: a young horror novelist holes himself up in rented room to prep for a non-fiction project. But soon he’s plagued by nightmarish visions of weird figures and something something losing his mind.
It claims to be Lovecraftian but I see no evidence of it here. My friend pointed out the possibly deliberate The Shining reference in both this short’s set-up and the pattern of the wallpaper (a dead ringer for the carpets). The final scene has distractingly awful sound quality and hammy, unconvincing acting from a detective type, making the rather stilted acting from the lead seem more tolerable. The short’s Facebook page has some stunning graphic design, but this is less than the sum of its faults and awkward to watch.
I saw this 2-minute short seemingly repeatedly pop up in my news feed in a post from Horror Society and thought, ‘nobody can’t spare 2 fucking minutes’.
Glad I did. Much like Lights Out, 12AM it uses its simplicity to great effect: one actor, zero dialogue, trim edits in a single scene, played out in real time, revolving around a relatable fear: that groggy, half-waking state between sleep and awake.
(SPOILERS AFTER THE JUMP)
Yikes. This is the first time I’ve been properly lied to by a flurry of laurel leaves and the inclusion of ‘award winning’ in the title. Despite being filmed using some very good equipment, Enrico Conte‘s 10-minute short Leaning [whose title is never justified] gets very little right.
Things start off shaky, with a non-English-speaking radio host/voiceover riddled with grammar errors, and saying those in a very poorly-executed American accent. The broadcast favours telling over showing, in which we’re told of a vague, immediate threat urging everyone to stay inside and secure their homes.
Excuse the poor English dub, but, like YouTube’s poor rendering of an already bubbly print, you get used to it.
Yesterday was Dia de los Muertos and, in the spirit of the day, Muñecos Infernales/The Curse of the Doll People, by Benito Alazraki, was profferred by a half-Mexican ghoul/friend.
Right. As penance for missing a single day on year 4 of my Hallowe’en marathon, I’ve decided to ‘punish’ myself by trying, for the second time, to consume one horror thing per day for the next year. It’s probably too much pressure, but I have a friend who regularly watches this kind of crap with me, so perhaps he’ll spot me or something.
Last night’s entry was the perfect antidote to a Hallowe’en hangover (both literal and emotional): the sumptuously designed Treaters. Boasting production design and props that would rival most feature-length films, this perfectly encapsulates the spooky, colourful, indulgent wickedness of the season (and makes me sad that it’s over for another year).
Set in England, two teens meet up with a third kid they met online, a clown-costumed little shit who promises them the candy heist of their lives. Borrowing some of its tension-setting from both Don’t Breathe and every snacking kid ever, the trio must sneak into the odd setup of a woman’s lounge (where she’s watching some fairly fucked-up animation) to get to her wonderfully impressive sweet shop. Naturally, the gang go nuts – literally like kids in a candy store – but the plot thickens thereafter. No spoilers, but it toes just the right line between gruesome and magically Burton/Selick-y. A trick and a treat.