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TALES FROM THE CRYPT PRESENTS: BORDELLO OF BLOOD (1996)

Bordello of Blood is bad bad bad. There's no getting around it.

The anthological nature of HBO's Tales from the Crypt series allowed a rare leg-up over its television show colleagues: besides maintaining a basic skeleton design for the show (and I don't mean the Cryptkeeper! heeee haaaa haaa haaa haaa haaa!!), every episode was allowed to start from the ground up, building a brand new story with a brand new cast every week, while also inviting different writers and directors with different sensibilities to make the show as varied as possible. Looking to EC Comics' 1950s run for inspiration, the stories were either faithfully or loosely adapted, but all maintained the tongue-in-cheek nature, the macabre set-pieces, and the ironic but predictable twist. Because of this, some episodes of the show turned out much, much better than others. 

And that's okay! The show was designed to appeal to as wide of a horror-loving audience as possible, and just like any other audience types, they all have their preferences. Some prefer an approach of the horrific, others more cheeky and campy, while sometimes it's a combination of both. Tying it together, always, was a touch of seedy erotica and a nasty/funny conclusion that usually saw the main hero/heroine (aka the villain) receive their just desserts, either poetically or literally. Much like the comic books that preceded it, the television series were morality tales. Sometimes the heroes escaped unscathed and sometimes they didn't; meanwhile, the villainous almost always suffered, and that was part of the joy. If someone were flat-out unlikable, it was only a matter of time before they were taxidermied and mounted on a wall, or cut exactly in half with a chainsaw.

Which brings us to the abysmal failure that is Bordello of Blood - one of those "bad episodes" of Tales from the Crypt - and not because the story's design wasn't fully in line with the Tales from the Crypt aesthetic. It did, after all, feature unscrupulous characters, sexiness, bodily explosions, monsters, and cheeky humor. No, it fails because there are very few likable people in the cast. Let's start with Dennis Miller, who apparently rewrote all of his dialogue (which made several scenes incomprehensible, considering that the other actors against whom he was acting were forced to recite their dialogue as originally written), and who tries to make every single thing that spews out of his mouth funny or sarcastic in some way. And not just in-general, every-day funny, but Dennis-Miller funny, which equates to overbearing, exhausting, and not at all funny. 

In Miller's defense, so little about Bordello of Blood works that he's just one more body adding to the huge pile of not-working. Corey Feldman is on screen long enough for you to dislike his human version, and then flat-out abhor his vampire version, which is so over the top and stupid that I'm mystified he's mystified he couldn't find work for five years following Bordello of Blood's release. Erika Eleniak gets by with a marginally acceptable performance, but at times her disdain for the material definitely shows through. Angie Everhart, who gave what's become a legendarily terrible performance in her first acting role, does seem to be trying, but ooh boy, so little of what she does actually translates well to the screen. Tales from the Crypt often relied on hot and handsome actors and Bordello of Blood is no different, but sometimes those hot and handsome actors could act. Everhart could not, and maybe she still can't. (Apparently she was really, really nice on set, and that's all that matters.) 

The only one in the cast doing anything worth watching is Chris Sarandon, slumming in what would be one of his final theatrical film appearances. The enthusiasm and energy he injects into his Reverend Current is utterly wasted, and deserving of a much better film. The sequence during which he kills a room full of vampire prostitutes with a holy water super-soaker, causing them to explode into guts, bones, and fire, also deserves to be in something far more deserving. The fact that it's Chris Sarandon doing it makes it ten times as awesome.

Likely due to the production's necessary reshoots, the editing of Bordello of Blood is extremely awkward at times, suggesting the film were being stapled together rather than fluidly designed. Not helping this theory is the unsubtle distinction between Eleniak's real hair and the obvious wig she's forced to use during certain sequences. For a film born out of mistreatment of the Tales from the Crypt brand (story writer Robert Zemeckis basically blackmailed Universal into buying this script), it's no surprise that the final product is a chore to sit through.

Universal Studios had originally intended on creating a Tales from the Crypt-based film trilogy, beginning with the very successful Demon Knight (almost continuing with the Tarantino/Rodriguez collaboration From Dusk Till Dawn before Tarantino asked for too much money), and ultimately concluding one film early with Bordello of Blood, a film that even its star, Dennis Miller, ordered his audience to avoid while it was in theaters. That it was a box office bomb assured further tales spun by the Cryptkeeper would be relegated back to television screens, which is a shame, because the brand has carried a lot of weight since the comic book's introduction back in the 1950s and has been sitting dormant way too long.

And it's all your fault, Bordello of Blood. Thanks for nothing.

Bordello of Blood is atrocious. Even those who like the film have to admit it ain't at all that good. Fun and gory violence and a story that really does smack of that ol' EC Comics aesthetic aside, so little of it works that it's almost amazing it ever saw the light of day - and from a major studio, no less.   

TALES FROM THE CRYPT PRESENTS: DEMON KNIGHT (1995)

It was the summer of 1995. I was about to enter the fifth grade, but by then I was already a total horror junkie, much to the chagrin of my very worried mother. Efforts on her part to prevent my delving into the horror genre were met with refusal, dismissal, and probably a lot of whining. By this point in time, I'd worked my way through the entire Halloween and Friday the 13th franchises and was halfway through Hellraiser. But such viewings had to be done in secret. Should my mother throw open the door to our finished basement and descend the stairs to put in a load of laundry, I had to quickly shut off the tape of whatever horror VHS I'd been secretly watching and pretend instead to be watching one of those courtroom television shows or whatever happened to be on during that 3:00-5:00 weekday block. I was fooling exactly no one with this maneuver, but she was likely satisfied by my attempts. In her mind, at least I knew I wasn't supposed to be watching it.

My parents decided they wanted to take an overnight trip during that summer, sans kids, so my brother and I were dropped off at my uncle's for the weekend. It was a pretty cool and relaxed affair - my uncle's ideas on what were suitable movies and TV shows for kids were a bit more liberal than my mother's - so when my cousin announced she would go to the video store and rent some movies for us, I jumped at the chance.

"Can you see if they have Demon Knight?" I asked. Chronologically, I don't remember what came first: my devotion to HBO's Tales from the Crypt television series, or my obsession with collecting the 1990s' reprint run of EC Comics' Tales from the Crypt, The Vault of Horror, and The Haunt of Fear. I just knew that Demon Knight was out there in the world on blocky VHS, and I needed it in my eyeballs, stat.

"There's nothing bad in that, is there?" my uncle asked, merely out of obligation.

"It's about dummies," I lied. (Although it was kind of true. There was a dummy in there, after all.)

And so my uncle gave my cousin the nod of approval and off she went. She later returned with a pile of junk food and a big plastic VHS rental case for Tales from the Crypt Presents: Demon Knight.

And we all watched it together: my uncle, my brother, a few cousins, and myself.

What followed was ninety of the most exhilarating minutes of my life, as my straight-edged, non-horror-loving family sat in total slack-jawed shock that little unassuming me was into such ghastly things: body mutilation! heads being punched off! clomping dummy jaws! electric sex! a room filled with tits! Dick Miller!

The room was astounded that such a movie even existed in their world; and had it not been for me, in what circumstances would they have ever laid eyes upon it?

Never. 

But what permeated through that room for one of the silliest, ghastliest, most taboo-shattering communal experiences ever to happen among unsuspecting family members was tantamount to how the theatrical experience must've been prior to the invention of the cell phone.

How crazy would this movie get?

How far would it go?

Is that Lowell from Wings?

Nudity already?

The horror genre has been a big part of my life, and there are certain titles I will always hold in higher regard than others, for they were my gateway films. They were the titles that made me realize horror was my life, and no matter how good or bad they got, I would love them in equal measure.

Demon Knight is one of those titles.

Never had there been such a successful leap from small screen to big by the time Demon Knight wrenched free from its 30-minute constraints to unleash on audiences a full feature film of demonic debauchery, gruesome violence, the blackest of gallows humor, and wobbling dummy heads. Nothing was lost in translation. The chaotic sensibilities of the show, the unashamed look at violence and pulpy storytelling, and the nudity - oh, heavens, the nudity! - all survived that trip from television screens to theatrical exhibition. Demon Knight has everything: unrestrained violence, thrilling action, sexual titillation, excellent performances, and C.C.H. Pounder throwing up directly on the camera. Who wouldn't love this?

Director Ernest Dickerson, who only had two films under his directorial belt at this point (he'd been a longtime DP for Spike Lee), seems like he were born to take on the horror genre. (Well, sort of.  He's also responsible for Bones - the awful Snoop Dogg urban horror film, not the awful forensics show for white people.) Dickerson's visual design is fully informed by the comic book aesthetic: blues for dusky interiors, browns for the war flashbacks (the staging of which seems heavily inspired by the covers of Frontline Combat, EC Comics' lesser known imprint), and let's not forget the neon green demon blood. Nearly every frame of Demon Knight is decked out in bold and vibrant comic book colors, tending to favor blue more than anything else. Brief flashbacks to the Christ crucifixion, or the marauding demons with their glow-in-the-dark eyes creeping around like raptors while set against the blue/black desert night sky, enforce his talent for capturing compelling images. He also chose a hell of a cast. There are no signs of the typical executive producer throwing his cast-preference weight around (more on this during the Bordello of Blood review). When William Sadler plays the hero and a pre-Titanic Billy Zane plays the villain, you know these were actors chosen specifically by the director for their talents and their appeal. They weren't chosen because of their box-office draw or their recognition among audiences. Additional names like C.C.H. Pounder, Thomas Haden Church, Charles Fleischer, and a pre-fame Jade Pinkett (Smith) confirm that the best possible actors were chosen for their roles, and not for their marquee value. And that's amazing, because that hardly happens anymore.

Demon Knight, to this day, remains an absolute favorite. The perfect flick to play on Halloween, or late at night when the whole world is quiet, Demon Knight is one of the funnest horror films to come along throughout the entire horror movement. Only when horror films turn the tables on their viewing audiences and take on a full-meta approach (Scream, The Cabin in the Woods) are when it seems safe for these audiences to admit they had fun at the theater. But there were no self-awareness gimmicks needed to tell Demon Knight's story. It didn't need to be in on the joke to be fun. Based on grisly comic books from the 1950s, Demon Knight isn't ashamed to be what it is, and doesn't hide from its point of origin. It exists only to be thrilling and entertaining and titillating, and that's exactly what it does. Don't even fight the smile that forms at the corners of your mouth when watching it. Don't act like you're above seeing demons drip glow-in-the-dark neon blood all over the ground as they shriek and smash in all the windows. When Billy Zane is out in the desert doing his best Beetlejuice impression and calling his soon-to-be victims "fucking ho-dunk, po-dunk, well-then-there motherfuckers!," just ENJOY IT, because this film was made for all of us.

Films like Demon Knight barely exist anymore. And when they do, they're called "throwback" and "homage" and "grindhouse," because of the rarity in which they come into being. Tales from the Crypt is a solid brand with a built-in appreciation, and so it's a shame that the second attempt at bridging the gap between television and features would be with the miserable Bordello of Blood - a film so heinously bad that it would spell the end for Crypt-branded features. While there has been an ongoing attempt by M. Night Shyamalan to reintroduce Tales from the Crypt to a new generation, so far nothing has manifested, so all we have is what's come before: the comic line, the British feature adaptations, the HBO series, and then its subsequent features. There's a lot of good in that legacy, and some not so good. Demon Knight is among the best.

JOHN CARPENTER: MAN OF ACTION

I wish this were real.

BEWARE THE CHILDREN

God said, "Let us make man in Our image, after Our likeness.” But image does not mean outer image, or every statue or photograph would be man. It means the inner image—the spirit, the soul. But what of those in our midst who do not have individual souls? Or spirits? They have one mind that they share between them—one spirit. They have the look of man, but not the nature of mankind…

JOHN CARPENTER: LIVE RETROSPECTIVE

"I'm a director of horror movies. I love horror movies. Horror movies will live forever." 

After thirty years, John Carpenter is finally getting his due. And he's having fun again.

For those who have followed the trials and tribulations of the cult director, everyone knows that he's a man who has consistently proven to be ahead of the times. One of his most celebrated films, Halloween, was met with critical dismissal and audience disinterest upon its initial release, but which saw a total reversal on both of those fronts over the coming months. It was "the little indie film that could," as the dearly departed co-producer/co-writer Debra Hill once put it, and it would go on to become one of the most respected horror films of all time and spawn a franchise comprising eleven films, with two more entries on their way. A similar fate would befall The Thing, perhaps the director's most respected film, which would not only have its own reversal in the minds of critics and hearts of audiences, but nearly derail Carpenter's career, putting him on a different path of safer studio fare (Christine, Starman) to show audiences he was capable of telling less icky, mean-spirited stories.

But the 2010s have shown that Carpenter's impact hasn't just been on audiences, for whom he's provided decades of nightmares, but on a legion of filmmakers who have grown up under his tutelage. Adam Wingard with The Guest. Jim Mickle with Cold in July. Jeff Nichols with Midnight Special. David Robert Mitchell with It Follows. And this list is endless, as new films are announced all the time that cite Carpenter as their inspiration. None of these filmmakers hide their love and respect for a man who, for much of his career, received too little of both. The current iteration of Hollywood, which so far has remade four of Carpenter's best efforts, with more on the way, and where Halloween and Vampires have been sequelled into mediocrity, is the same land where Carpenter can't find funding for his own projects. To film fans, that can be especially aggravating. But as he's so far proven during his John Carpenter: Live Retrospective tour, he has gotten the last laugh, night after night. Because try as producers might to keep re-purposing Carpenter films through remakes or sequels in a blind effort to achieve mastery through affiliation, they will never even begin to touch the majesty of seeing him perform his most famous themes as part of a six-piece band (which includes his son Cody Carpenter, Daniel Davies, John Konesky, Scott Seiver, and John Spiker).

In July of 2016, I got my chance.

Much like Carpenter's filmmaking style, musical style, and much like the man himself, John Carpenter: Live Retrospective featured zero bullshit. There was no opening act, and no intermission. There were no pyrotechnics, no surprise guests, no gimmicks. The presentation was simplistic, to the point, and somewhat dorky (said in the lovingest way possible). During performances of his film themes, a large screen behind the band played a muted montage of the appropriate title. And for cuts from his two Lost Themes albums, that screen either displayed abstract light shows, or nothing at all. During The Fog, the stage filled with...you guessed it...fog. For They Live, the band paused after the song's intro to slip on some Ray-Bans. During Big Trouble in Little China, which Carpenter introduced as being a search for "the girl with green eyes," the lights illuminated solid green. And for every single one of these tracks, film themes or otherwise, Carpenter was chewing gum and dancing adorably behind his keyboard. He was beckoning to the crowd for rhythmic hand claps, the devil horns, and during Big Trouble in Little China's "Porkchop Express," the hand gesture shown off by several of its characters, known as the "Buddha finger." And the crowd, who waited with bated breath for the most recognizable horror theme of all time, lost their minds as the band launched into the main titles for Halloween, which they followed up with In the Mouth of Madness, likely the closest thing to rock 'n roll the director has ever scored. Even cuts from the surprise album "Lost Themes II," which is quite different from its predecessor, demanded new evaluation when presented so intimately and enthusiastically by its musical personnel. "Distant Dream" alone proved this.

In a night filled with surprises, the band chose to end the show with an unexpected choice: a track from Christine, a less celebrated title with a less celebrated soundtrack. But as the band performed, you could see why: because they enjoy the hell out of themselves as they play it--more than any other song in their set list.

Some film tracks, such as The Fog, are as you remember them. But so many others, now with the use of a full band, sound electrifyingly new. Never have the main titles from Escape From New York, confined so long to merely synthesizer, sounded so full and tremendous and utterly bad-ass. And with scenes from the film playing out on screen featuring Harry Dean Stanton's Brain and Donald Pleasence's President of the United States, the crowd was reminded that they don't just love Carpenter's films, and they don't just love his music, but they love his music because of his films, and they love his films because of his music.

Seeing John Carpenter embark on a tour during which honors his own legacy--one so often disregarded unless it's being exploited--offered another stark reminder: in this world of endless sequels, remakes, and loving cinema homages, there will only ever be one John Carpenter. The John Carpenter: Live Retrospective tour has come to an end, but a second tour that promoted his movie themes, was immediately announced. Will Carpenter and co. tour again? Never say never. If they do, and you haven't yet had the pleasure, don't miss out. (Or, of course, you can pick up a Blu-ray of the tour from Storm King Productions.)

Set List

Escape From New York (Main Title)

Assault on Precinct 13 (Main Title)

Vortex (from Lost Themes)

Mystery (from Lost Themes)

The Fog (Main Title)

They Live (Coming To L.A.)

The Thing (Main Theme - Desolation) (Ennio Morricone cover)

Distant Dream (from Lost Themes II)

Big Trouble in Little China (Pork Chop Express)

Wraith (from Lost Themes II)

Night (Daniel Davies solo; from Lost Themes)

Halloween (Main Title)

In the Mouth of Madness (Main Title)

Encore:

Prince of Darkness (Darkness Begins)

Virtual Survivor (from Lost Themes II)

Purgatory (from Lost Themes)

Christine: Christine Attacks (Plymouth Fury)

ONE MORE STORY...

 

"In five minutes, it will be the 21st of April. One hundred years ago on the 21st of April, out in the waters around Spivey Point, a small clipper ship drew toward land. Suddenly, out of the night, the fog rolled in. For a moment, they could see nothing, not a foot in front of them. Then, they saw a light. By God, it was a fire burning on the shore, strong enough to penetrate the swirling mist. They steered a course toward the light. But it was a campfire, like this one. The ship crashed against the rocks, the hull sheared in two, mars snapped like a twig. The wreckage sank, with all the men aboard. At the bottom of the sea, lay the Elizabeth Dane, with her crew, their lungs filled with salt water, their eyes open, staring to the darkness. And above, as suddenly as it come, the fog lifted, receded back across the ocean and never came again. But it is told by the fishermen, and their fathers and grandfathers, that when the fog returns to Antonio Bay, the men at the bottom of the sea, out in the water by Spivey Point will rise up and search for the campfire that led them to their dark, icy death."