THE ILLUSTRATED MAN (1969)

I adore Ray Bradbury. I grew up reading the author’s works, but without truly honing in on the emotion and sense of wonder that the author infused in his writing until I was much older. The Halloween Tree, Something Wicked This Way Comes, and The October Country all rank as not just my favorite Bradbury works, but my favorite works ever. But as someone who leans more toward out and out horror rather than sci-fi and fantasy, there are some books and short story collections by the author I never felt compelled to read — an example being The Martian Chronicles, as well as The Illustrated Man.

By the studio’s own synopsis, one would think that the film adaption strayed away from the heavier sci-fi leanings of the anthology of the same name, but that’s not the case. Though the wraparound story (featuring the titular character played by an excellent Rod Steiger) exists in a mid-1900s, middle-America environment, every tale spun by the illustrated man exists in a science-fiction or futuristic environment. Source material aside (again, I haven’t read it, so I don’t want to tick off the purists), the wraparound story doesn’t mesh well with the stories that are told. (For once, the wraparound story is actually the best part of the anthology.) A single story existing in the sci-fi world would have been one thing, but by the second story, the theme is established and it feels at odds with the film’s opener (and closer).

Steiger and Claire Bloom (who plays the illustrator witch in the wraparound) play all the lead roles in each story, and though they do a great job, it also lends itself to confusion — especially with the very subtle inference that some of the stories may or may not overlap. Sci-fi aspect aside, there’s another thing that all the stories have in common, and it’s one very unexpected, and that’s a slight hint of sexuality. Steiger’s carnival drifter becoming attracted to Bloom’s witch and undergoing his body transformation in hopes to sleep with her is just one example, but each story includes something akin to this. I’m not sure what it all means, to be honest.

If there’s one reason to watch The Illustrated Man, it’s for Rod Steiger. He’s a blast to watch, and manages to play an intimidating, authoritative figure in every tale. His dominating performance anchors every segment, and there’s an interesting dichotomy in place in that, though every character is supposed to be different, Steiger’s approach seems purposely similar in each, suggesting that maybe all of them are him in some way. And if there was anyone with the audacity to attempt such a thing, it would be Bradbury.

Surprisingly, Bradbury hasn’t been adapted for film as much as you’d think (the most recent was HBO’s mind-bogglingly reckless and disrespectful Fahrenheit 451), given his large body of work and Hollywood’s tendency to adapt cult and horror authors. For reference, Stephen King is already starting to lap himself, racking up two adaptations, or more, per novel or novella. I can’t imagine that those Bradbury fans who enjoy or prefer his science-fiction writing won’t enjoy The Illustrated Man, but for me I was hoping for something a little more “supernatural” (as promised by the tagline). 

The Illustrated Man is available on Blu-ray from Warner Archives.

THE TWILIGHT ZONE (2019): THE COMPLETE FIRST SEASON

This newest iteration of The Twilight Zone marks the third attempt at resurrecting the infamous science-fiction/horror brand in a short-form format since the original and still highly celebrated run from the 1950s-60s. Confined to CBS’ All Access streaming service instead of network television, the Jordan Peele-produced version is also the most adult, heaping doses of profanity and slightly graphic violence into the proceedings. For some reason, The Twilight Zone has been a tricky brand to keep going, and besides for HBO’s Tales from the Crypt, its initial run and its 1980s revival were the only horror anthologies to enjoy a successful run on television. The second revival of The Twilight Zone lasted only two seasons. It’s interesting why that would be, because, as any horror writer or director will tell you, there are no limits in the sci-fi/horror/fantasy genre. There are no rules or boundaries. Write the wackiest story you want, and so long as it has a “point”—something that ties back into the human condition or puts society under the microscope—then it’s already a success. The genre offers an infinite number of opportunities to tell an engaging story and yet so many of these short-form programs fail to catch fire. This newest version of the brand has been greenlit for a second season, so CBS definitely sees the potential, but so far this relaunch is off to a rocky start.

The nature of anthologies leads to pitting the one-off stories against each other. Which one was the best, the worst, the funniest, the scariest? Which one had the best twist, the best cast, the best special effects? Similar titles like Creepshow or Tales from the Darkside can attest to this—ask a horror fan, and everyone has their favorite segment. Me? I’ve always been more of a Creepshow 2 person, and I pretty much get @-punched in the face every time I say that. The Twilight Zone 2019 is no different, offering a very different collection of episodes made with different sensibilities and all vying for a different experience. Some of them, like the show’s opener, “The Comedian” starring Kumail Nanjiani, in which a comedian makes your classic deal with the devil (an understated Tracy Morgan), is your simple monkey’s paw morality tale (and the strongest episode of the series). Some of the other episodes, however, like “Replay,” about a black mother and son using a magical video camera to keep going back in time to avoid being harassed and killed by a racist cop, or “Not All Men,” in which a meteor crashes to earth and turns the world’s men into violent, sex-crazed assholes, obviously have something to say about the dangers of living in the modern age if you’re an underrepresented demographic. 

Many fans have been vocal about the overly political agendas of this new series revival, and I agree with them, but only to a certain extent. As confirmed by Rod Serling himself and those who knew him in the supplements included on the home video release, The Twilight Zone’s mission was to tackle issues like these and present them as allegories as a means of deconstructing the human experience. The original run dealt very much with issues that were prevalent during the 1950s, like the McCarthy communist hearings and the constant fears of nuclear war. Still, this new revival is intent on making nearly every episode political or societal in at least some way, and more than one episode is a thinly veiled stab at Trump (which should surprise exactly no one). “The Wunderkind,” starring John Cho and everyone’s favorite little boy Jacob Tremblay, is an update on one of The Twilight Zone’s most famous stories, “It’s a Good Life,” about a godlike six-year-old boy with the power to create anything he wants. Resurrecting that concept, “The Wunderkind” is about an eleven-year-old who mounts a successful run for the presidency, becoming corrupted by power and turning into a jerk, and surrounding himself by yes men who do whatever he wants. (Tremblay even wears the fat red tie and everything. It’s not exactly subtle.)

This newest revival isn’t a total lost cause, as a handful of episodes manage to evoke that classic Twilight Zone feeling (I’ll come back to “The Comedian” again, because that episode nails it). Having said that, if CBS want this series to enjoy a lasting run, showrunners Peele and Simon Kinberg should consider dialing down the political and societal natures of the episodes at least to tolerable levels. The best episodes of the original The Twilight Zone, of course, had something to say about the human condition and that should in no way stop, but they also didn’t have to beat their audience with a hammer to make their point. The aforementioned “Replay” is one of the least subtle allegories I’ve seen in the horror genre since Joe Dante’s Iraq War satire “Homecoming” for Showtime’s first season of Masters of Horror, and even though it ends in an obviously unreal landscape, it still feels too much like real life and not like the escapism the audience was hoping to lose themselves in.

The supplements included on the home video release are thankfully rich in content, especially the featurette on the first disc entitled “Remembering Rod Serling,” which is not just the best supplement on this release, but essential viewing for all aspiring and seasoned writers. Intimate footage of Serling talking about his approach to writing, both for the show and in his everyday life, gets at the heart of what the best writers can do and what their responsibilities are as people with the ability to tell a story. (He also very clearly states that the competitive nature of writing during his era ensured that only the best stories made it to the limelight, so I have a feeling he’d run screaming from Amazon’s e-book search results.) During this segment, Serling’s daughter shares a haunting story in which her father witnessed the decapitation of a fellow solder during World War II after he was struck by a care parcel thrown from a helicopter, which would eerily foretell the tragedy experienced during the shooting of John Landis’ segment in 1983’s The Twilight Zone: The Movie. This five-disc release also includes all ten episodes in alternate black and white versions to amp up that classic Twilight Zone feeling.

If nothing else, this newest take on The Twilight Zone will expose newer audiences to the older series, which has aged beautifully (and which is available on Blu-ray from CBS). Top talent behind and in front of the camera has resulted in a very okay first season, and Peele admirably steps in for Serling as the new mysterious “Narrator”, but if this brand is to stick around, it needs to strive harder to nail that Twilight Zone feeling, dial down the agenda, and only bring the best possible stories into the limelight. As Serling himself said, if writing was easy, everyone would be doing it. I hope season two embraces that. 

[Reprinted from Daily Grindhouse.]

TALES FROM THE HOOD 2 (2018)

Of all the horror films in the world seemingly the least likely to receive a sequel, 1995’s Tales from the Hood tops that list. That it’s coming 23 years later adds to the already unexpected decision to revisit the concept of a racially- and socially-infused horror anthology for modern audiences. The creative team behind the original film, director/co-writers Rusty Cundieff and Darin Scott, and executive producer Spike Lee, all return for a second dose of anthological horror, this time hosted by genre legend Keith David (taking over for Clarence Williams III, who I assume opted not to return, but who did agree to appear in the creative duo's other anthological horror effort, American Nightmares, which according to general reputation is apparently even worse than what was to come).

From the get-go, Tales from the Hood 2 is established on a very shaky and corny premise: the mysterious Portifoy Simms (Keith David), who credits himself as the world’s foremost storyteller, is summoned by the U.S. government to tell stories to a robot (I’m not kidding) in order to enhance its decision-making capabilities. And also from the get-go, Tales from the Hood 2 isn’t willing to ease into its subtext: the man in charge of this secret robot, a stern, Mike Pence-looking Caucasian, is immediately racist directly to Simms’ face, even falling back on the clichéd use of “your kind.” Simms lets this go by mostly uncontested, because he knows his super scary stories are going to somehow ruin all the lives of evil racist white people everywhere, so with each dismissive and hateful comment, Simms has a story to go along with it. Said Evil White Racist Man is also a sexual harasser, which allows Tales from the Hood 2 to include a #MeToo reference with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer:

“He treats all the women who work here like that.”

“You too?”

“Me too.”

Clever, fellas. Real clever.

What makes Tales from the Hood 2 so disappointing is that, strictly from the standpoint of sheer entertainment, it looks cheap, not helped by its cast of total unknowns (and Keith David), but it also pales in comparison to its predecessor in every way. David is great as the storyteller, but never reaches the maddening heights of Clarence Williams III, who so attacked his role head-on that he would conjure heavy sheens of sweat during his most fiery moments. 

Despite the tongue-in-cheek title and marketing campaign (a sunglasses-wearing skull with a gold tooth, which returns for this entry as well), the first Tales from the Hood was not at all going for humor, unless of course you count the gallows kind. Corbin Bernsen’s segment from the original was funny because of the outlandish situation, not because the film at any point was elbowing you in the side and saying, “Eh? Eh??” Meanwhile, in Tales from the Hood 2, a racist white girl not meaning to be racist ends up having sex with a vintage racist doll called a Golly Gee meant to offensively represent an African American, which gropes at her ass in super close-up, only to have its devil spawn, which is many many more Golly Gee dolls. And then there’s the story about a Tinder-esque double-date spearheaded by two practiced rapists who plan on drugging their dates and recording the sex crimes they’re way too excited to commit before an obvious plot twist reveals their female dates to be vampires. Vampires who were ALSO PREYING ON VICTIMS. Can you stand the subtext? And are we really still doing vampire twist endings after previous anthology 20-year-old series like Tales from the Crypt and even Are You Afraid of the Dark? already did the same?

From the onset, the mere idea of a Tales from the Hood 2 didn’t seem like a good idea, but having seen the original somewhat recently really made me realize two things: one, it was far better than I remembered, and two, it handled prescient issues with a more sure footing and an appreciated sincerity. Sadly, even though it’s coming up on 23 years old, the stories from the original, which focused on black-on-black violence, racist police officers, and outwardly racist politicians still feels more applicable to our modern societal and political landscape than its brand new sequel, which feels dated right out of the box and in way too much of a hurry to tackle every social issue currently plaguing us.

I’m hopeful that the release of this title will attract an audience to its far superior predecessor, and I’m also hopeful that they won’t assume it looks like its sequel: a cheap looking production peppered with unsubtle storytelling and broad humor.

Tales of the Hood 2 has one thing going for it and it’s named Keith David; by film’s end, when he reveals himself to be the devil (or something — assumedly the same whatever something that Williams III was), you can’t help but smile at how silly it all is, but then that moment is ruined when you realize the previous 90 minutes, which was supposed to be horrifically fun but also socially responsible, was just as silly.

TALES FROM THE HOOD (1995)

The granddaddy of all horror anthologies will always be the George A. Romero/Stephen King collaboration Creepshow, released in 1982, which was a loving homage to the EC Comics line of the 1950s. Borrowing its format from the previous Amicus anthological films, released under the branded titles of those same EC Comics (Tales from the Crypt and The Vault of Horror, specifically), Creepshow presented a handful of stories tied together by what’s become known as the “wraparound” story – at first an introduction to the anthological format, which is slowly revealed to be yet another story with a typically unfortunate resolution for its characters. Anthology films are a tough nut to crack, because their nature leaves them vulnerable to an inconsistent experience. The construction of mini stories will have them pitted against each other for best and worst, scariest and ickiest, etc. No one anthology can claim flawlessness. (Not even the aforementioned Creepshow, because the “meteor shit!” story starring not-at-all-an-actor Stephen King is still one of the worst things of all time.) Creepshow 2 would continue the legacy of its predecessor, dialing back on Romero’s purposeful comic book direction and focusing on a more straightforward horror experience while falling victim to a hampering amount of Capra-esque schmaltz.

Years later, and produced by Spike Lee, Tales from the Hood would come down the pike and result in — quite honestly — the best horror anthology since then...if not ever. Written by X-Files/Millennium writer favorite Darin Scott and director Rusty Cundieff, Tales from the Hood would borrow the same basic construction from the Amicus films of the early ‘70s, along with minor elements from a host of other anthologies, and infuse a detectably angry tone that examines an array of African-American issues. The segments touch on urban crime, drug use, and – depressingly relevant even today – racism within police and political culture. Tales from the Hood, unlike many other urban horror films, wasn’t intent on pandering. It didn’t play up to stereotypes or fall back on cliché. Every story contains both a darkness and a hard truth about being a black man, woman, or child in America. This approach can, at times, make it hard to watch. But, having said that, make no mistake: Tales from the Hood also wants to entertain – in the same way the anthological horrors before it endeavored to do.

“Welcome to My Mortuary” sees a trio of teens dropping by a rundown mortuary where its owner, the mysterious and eccentric Simms (with an incredible performance by Clarence Williams III), apparently has come across a load of drugs and is looking to sell. (Every time he refers to it as “the shit,” it’s undeniably hilarious.) Williams III serves as the de facto Crypt Keeper, in that as they descend deeper into the bowels of the house where “the shit” is stored, he pulls back the lid of a random coffin to reveal the corpse inside – and the insidious tale of horror that put them there. For anthologies that try to beef up their wraparound stories, they generally come off as perfunctory, but the concept of a mortician telling stories about the corpses in his funeral home is a stroke of genius and is the best use of the device I can think of in the genre.

“Rogue Cop Revelation” sees a “routine” pullover of a prominent black politician (played by Creepshow 2’s Tom Wright) by racist white cops (among them Wings Hauser) go very wrong. Similar to the very story from Creepshow 2 which starred Wright, his character is killed and his perpetrators flee, assuming they’ve gotten away from it, but he returns from the dead to set that record straight. And his undead politician manages to be more unnerving than his undead hitchhiker. (Maybe because said undead politician lacks a gigantic flailing puppet tongue.)

“Boys Do Get Bruised” (featuring a role for director Rusty Cundieff) is the only story that doesn’t lend itself specifically to the black experience, instead presenting a young boy named Walter who tells his teacher that “the monster” at his house hurts him at night, which is soon revealed to be an abusive stepfather (played by comedian David Alan Grier). Where it lacks in one regard, that being a uniquely African-American experience, it makes up for with an intense and unflinching look at in-home domestic abuse, with Grier playing an unbelievable and legitimately intimidating bastard. Though the intensity of the story is a little undone by its end, falling back on a sudden and inappropriate silliness, it still results in being the most realistic of the bunch, leaving it very difficult to watch.

“KKK Comeuppance” feels the most traditionally EC Comics – a take on the Zuni doll story from another horror anthology, Trilogy of Terror – which sees an openly racist politician wonderfully played by Corbin Bernsen being stalked through his newly acquired plantation home by a handful of “pickaninny” dolls allegedly possessed by the spirits of all the slaves who died there. As suggested by its name, this story is the most daring, with the audience seeing an obviously racist politician pander to his similarly racist would-be voters in public, producing campaign videos lambasting affirmative action and nearly using the word “spook” in front of reporters. This story’s moral/warning is the most direct, but if you still need convincing, then just wait for the (multiple) scenes where Bernsen’s politician beats paintings and dolls reflecting African Americans with an American flag. It ain’t exactly subtle, though not to the detriment of the film. Much of this story’s power comes from the audience constantly asking, “Should I be enjoying this?” — especially when Bernsen is chasing slave dolls around the house while shouting “you little nigglins!” In 1995, seeing a character portrayed as a former KKK member operating from a plantation house and referring to the black protestors on his lawn as a “damned minstrel show” running for political office might have seemed a bit too over the top – as how could anyone in his or her right mind ever vote for such a sleaze? – but then the 2016 election happened and a tidal wave of self-avowed white supremacists oozed from the cracks, so…let’s move on.

The final story, “Hardcore Convert,” is by far the angriest and carries with it the most significant message of them all...and not one you'd expect. A young black youth nicknamed “Crazy K” is wounded in a street shootout, and after recuperating in prison, agrees to take part in a highly experimental rehabilitation program in exchange for early release. Heavily influenced by the horrors of Jacob’s Ladder, Hellraiser, and A Clockwork Orange, “Hardcore Convert” is little concerned with entertainment value and more focused on nauseating and angering its audience with very real historical images of the massacres committed against black men and women since their earliest days as natives in America, the message being – after all the horrors they have faced – black-on-black crime needs to stop before everyone wipes each other out. Because of the streets-based hook for this story, it also contains the most vibrant use of the film's soundtrack, including the track "Born 2 Die" by hip-hop group Spice 1, which plays during the aforementioned compilation of African-American lynchings and genocide.

Tales from the Hood concludes with a return to the wraparound story, which unfolds in a not-so-surprising way, but also unfolds with a degree of cartoonish insanity that, as the credits roll, will leave a smile on your face. In spite of the anger, frustration, and depravity you’ve already witnessed and experienced, overall, that was the point of Tales from the Hood in the first place – to entertain. And it certainly does.

I have no qualms with saying that Tales from the Hood – easily dismissible thanks to the influx of cheap and trashy urban horror films saturating the DTV market, including its own sequels – ranks as one of the best horror anthologies ever made. Funny when it wants to be, dark when it’s willing to go there, and depressingly more relevant than ever before, Tales from the Hood packs a punch to an almost punishing degree, as each story reveals not just a horror in the streets or of the unknown, but within the mortals who brought those stories to life and who, mostly, succumbed to their own morality. A pseudo-blaxploitation meets horror anthology, Tales from the Hood takes an old approach, injects it with some ingenuity, and creates from it an excellent addition to the genre that has the balls as well as the brains to speak some hard truths. If ever I'm in the mood for anthology horror, I reach for Tales from the Hood almost every time, because it's, quite frankly:

SOMETHING TO TIDE YOU OVER

TRICK R TREAT 2

Apparently, they're making it.

Awesome, I say.

Welcome back, Sam.

REVIEW: THE DARK DEALER

Finally debuting on DVD after its long (and probably unnoticed) absence, 1995's The Dark Dealer, the adult version of Nickelodeon's popular "Are You Afraid of the Dark?", is now here. Directed by Tom Alexander and Wyn Winberg, The Dark Dealer is an anthology horror featuring glowing orbs, bulky and suited monsters, and ghosts of very spiteful blues men. 

It all begins with a young teen running in terror from a large, flashing orb-thing straight from Spencer Gifts. The boy luckily dodges into a room and stumbles across a poker game filled with a shady cast of characters. The boy takes a seat and listens as each poker player unfolds his own story, laying down the events which led them to their seat at the table.

From two unlucky thieves using the wrong old man's apartment to hide from the law, to an overambitious entertainment lawyer stealing an old forgotten black musician's songs to hit it big, to the final and wraparound story featuring orbs, drugs, and crack dens, The Dark Dealer unfolds with the same kind of overly cheesy and EC-comic-book style as its source of inspiration, Creepshow. And since the film was made in 1995, there is no garish and boring CGI to offend the eye - it's all practical here, baby. Rubber faces, white face make-up, and all the screaming skeletons money can buy.

Quite obviously, The Dark Dealer is no Creepshow. It's not even Creepshow 2. If it was, you would've heard of it already. (It's way better than Creepshow 3, but, so is bloody stool.) That doesn't mean, however, that it's not watchable...because it is. Released during the height of the direct-to-video movement, The Dark Dealer encompasses all you would expect from that era: corny gore, sex for no reason, and awful humor.

Fans of quirky and low budget horror will find something to enjoy, even though each story unfolds with the kind of tedious inevitability, with the main character receiving his just desserts served with a dash of irony, that Tales from the Crypt made famous. But in the interim, bodies transform with rubber intensity and claymation demons faces scream RIGHT AT YOU.

It's all in good fun, and you'll likely enjoy yourself.

Buy the film here (and watch out for flying soup ladles).