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Merry Christmas and Ho Ho Ho! Haunted Houses and Gho-Gho-Ghosts! Great stocking stuffer, don’t ya think?
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Author: danielwalterc
Coming Soon – Christmas Tales of Haunted Houses. My Latest Book.
Arriving at Amazon Nov 27 (Cyber Monday). Both print and electronic formats are available.
Preorder now for the Kindle version!
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“Gravesite Surprise – An Urban Trick-or-Treat Legend” – A Halloween Short Story I Wrote (Last post of 2023 Halloween season)
I don’t have much to say, really. Just, well, enjoy this story. Oh and….Happy Halloween!
Gravesite Surprise – An Urban Trick-or-Treat Legend
Halloween. A night of trick-or-treating. For some. It’s the younger kids that love this Halloween ritual. It’s all about candy. Lots and lots of candy. As for the older kids, trick-or-treating might be okay but they want something more. Trick-or-treating and something extra. Something more adventurous, more scary. Exploring a scary, urban legend just might be the “treat” to do “the trick.”
The legend involves trick-or-treating at a certain grave at a local cemetery. Twelve-year-old Jacob Matthew, or “Jay’M” for short, is down with this. His brother Paco Jesse (He goes by “PJ”), older by three years, thinks it’s kid stuff and dismisses the legend. But PJ is looking out for Jay’M so he must put up with his little brother’s pain-in-the-ass ideas. Little does PJ know that this will be the scariest night of his life.
*****
The little shit ran fast. Damn his own legs. They couldn’t keep up with his little bruh. Fifteen is no age for PJ to start getting all sore in knees. Too many hours crouched on the floor with his PS5. Tired from a simple sprint up a hill. Jay’M already made it to the top. The boundless energy of a twelve-year-old.
“I beat you!”
“I don’t care. Only toddlers want to run everywhere. Might as well skip like a sissy. Kids my age take things in strides, bruh!”
Jay’M stood there and looked around anxiously. He didn’t want to go anywhere without his older brother.
“Hurry!”
“Dude, I don’t even want to be here.”
The neighborhood cemetery was at the top of this hill. Every kid living within a two mile radius heard the legend. Find the grave of Joseph Zielinski. Stand over it, look down and holler “Trick-or-Treat”. Holler that phrase several times if necessary. Most kids who tried this left disappointed. Every once in a while, some lucky kid (or some bullshitter) reported hearing a disembodied voice that some believed belonged to a witch. She would both cackle and groan at the same time. While this was scary enough, there was more. Supposedly, Joseph Zielinski himself, dead for over thirty years, would make contact with the kid who dared utter that Halloween phrase over his grave. But had this ever really happened? Had anyone really experienced what might equate to “the horror jackpot?”
“One dude woke Joseph Zielinski. I shit you not,” one kid might say.
“Bullshit. Who?” was a common retort.
“He doesn’t live around here anymore.”
“He doesn’t live anywhere. He doesn’t exist.”
Then another more curious kid might say, “What happened when he woke up?”
“His ghost appeared hovering over the grave,” to which the skeptic would follow, “Oh yeah, how come I heard the ghost comes up behind you to grab your shoulders? See, you guys can’t even keep your stories straight.”
Jay’M believed it. He at least believed the part about the witch. Gina was sitting by herself at the bench below on the trail that led up the hill. She had just told him she was at the grave and heard the witch, only ten minutes ago. If it happened only ten minutes ago, that meant the witch was really out this Halloween. Invisible, maybe, but also real.
Gina used to babysit Jay’M. As her former charge, he was convinced she wouldn’t lie to him. Besides, at seventeen, she was almost all grown up.
PJ eventually made it to the top of the hill. Soon after, Jay’M was running again.
“Come on! I know where it is! Tony at school told me where to look for it.”
PJ followed slowly, distractedly.
“Hurry up! You scared?”
“Hell no. Bored AF is more like it.” Halloween or no Halloween, it was nine pm on a school night. He could be home right now playing Diablo 4 on his PS5
“Found it!” Jay’M said. He was excited. Over here!”
“Dude, chill. I heard you the first time.”
Both boys were at Joseph Zielinski’s grave. Jay’M had his phone’s flashlight shining down on it. There was nothing special about it. It was a flat stone mostly hidden by grass. PJ was secretly impressed that his little bruh had found the damn thing. The graves next to it were better kept; the edges around the plaque trimmed, some even had fresh flowers.
Almost immediately Jay’M shouted “Trick-or-Treat!” PJ shoved an earbud into his ear and turned on his tunes.
“PJ, you’re not going to hear the witch!”
“What?”
“I said, ‘YOU’RE NOT GOING TO HEAR THE WITCH!”
“”Bruh, there is no witch. I’m not missing anything.”
Jay’M shrugged and continued on with “TRICK-OR-TREAT! TRICK-OR-TREAT! TRICK- OR-TREAT!” Nothing. No cackling or moaning. PJ clandestinely turned the volume down on his phone just to see if his little brother’s efforts were paying off. They weren’t.
”Hear anything?” he asked, knowing there was nothing to hear.
“Well, I think I might have heard…wait..wait…I hear something!”
“No you don’t. I turned down the volume. There’s nothing.”
Jay’m looked dejected. Finally he said, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“I’m always right. Now let’s go, we gotta get home. Mom’s going kill us for staying out so late.”
The two boys strolled out of the cemetery and down the hill. There were now two girls at the bench. Gina’s friend Maxie had joined her.
“Hear anything? See anything?” Gina wanted to know.
“Nothing,” PJ said.
“That legend is total bullshit!” Maxie said, “For the hell of it, I tried earlier tonight. Nothing happened.”
“Girl, I swear to God, I was just up there twenty minutes ago. I heard the witch!”
“Maybe that was your echo. Talking to yourself again, Gina?”
“Bitch, shut up!” The girls laughed. PJ smiled. He had a crush on both of them. But they were two grades above him and he knew they weren’t interested in him in that way.
“You believe me, don’t you Jay’M?” Gina winked at him.
“I do! She wouldn’t come out cause PJ wouldn’t listen. He had his tunes on.”
With that, PJ realized he didn’t have his earbuds.
“Shit! I think I lost my earbuds”
“That sucks, bro!” Maxie said.
“You dropped them! Serves you right!” Jay’M said.
PJ turned to his brother, “Look, run on home. I’m going back up to look for them.”
“I want to come with you!”
“Just do as I say. You’re younger than me and Mom will be more pissed if you’re out late than if I am. Tell her I’m right behind you!”
“Fine.” And Jay’M left. Home was only a block away. But PJ was in no hurry to get his earbuds. He just wanted to be alone with the girls.
Gina suddenly grinned immensely. “Now that the kid is gone, I can do this.” From her coat pocket she pulled out a THC pen.
“That’s why you’re hearing shit,” Maxie said, “Smoking that stuff will make you hear anything.”
“True that, but I haven’t puffed yet tonight.” Gina looked at PJ. “I didn’t want your little bruh to think his former babysitter was a bad girl.” She laughed, inhaled, then handed the pen to PJ.
“No thanks,” he said shyly. She shrugged and handed it to Maxie, who obliged.
Suddenly PJ was feeling awkward. He wasn’t into smoking or vaping, whether it be THC, nicotine or whatever it was that kids puffed into their lungs. Maybe he would be in a year or two, but not now. And he didn’t know how to talk to people who were high.
Coming across the way were two boys, the same age as Gina and Maxie.
“Ramon! Jason! Come pop-a-squat!”
Obviously Gina knew the boys and they sat down, four people squishing on the bench while PJ remained standing. Gina introduced them to PJ, but the older boys weren’t very interested. They puffed on Gina’s pipe and Gina told them about her experience at the grave.
“I heard the witch too!” Ramon said. “Last year. I shit you not and that kind of stuff freaks me out.” Jason confessed to trying the trick-or-treat thing but said he heard nothing.
PJ was feeling left out, out of place. He excused himself to go back up the hill to the cemetery to hopefully reclaim his lost earbuds.
“See ya around!” Gina said.
“Don’t get in trouble up there cause we ain’t coming after you,” Ramon said.
The older boys were treating PJ like a kid. As he started the uphill climb, he heard the older teens laughing. Laughing at him, most likely. He figured it served him right tho’. He had sent Jay’M on his way, making him feel like a little kid.
PJ went over the legend in his head as he neared the cemetery. Some people he knew heard the witch, so they said. No one he knew ever saw any incarnation of the old man buried eight feet under.. Whatever. It was all bullshit anyway. Ramon and Gina were stoners, of course. Stoners hear strange shit. Ramone was also an asshole. Assholes are assholes and they can only hear themselves fart.
A few short minutes later, PJ found himself at John Zielinski’s grave. He aimed his phone’s flashlight down on the ground. Sure enough, his earbuds were there. He snatched them up quickly and put them in his ears.
PJ couldn’t help but smile. Here he was at this legendary grave and, what the Hell, he felt playful. No one was around to judge him. Yet he spoke quietly as if not to wake the dead. But wasn’t that the whole point of this, what do you call it, this “game?”
“Trick-or-treat,” he whispered. Of course, nothing happened. Why should anything have happened? Still, he had to admit, he felt disappointed. Admittedly, the tone of his voice had been quite lame. He could have done better than that. No mumbling. Proper annunciation. And louder. Much louder (but not too loud, he didn’t want the kids down the hill to hear him.)
“Trick-or-treat!” he said, almost but not quite shouting those words.
Two seconds. Five seconds.
“Why am I wasting my time,” he said to himself.
Just as he was about to walk away, he heard it. The moan. The cackle. The continuing sound of a squeaky-voiced woman in agony, crying out through obstructed airways. There was nobody else around. He was alone.
Suddenly he remembered. He had left a YouTube video running and his Bluetooth was on. The moan/cackle must have been from the video..
PJ removed his earbuds. His ears were tuned only to the sounds of the night around him.
The moan/cackle persisted.
He took stock of his surroundings. He saw no one. He saw nothing unusual. Everything was still. There was no passing of shadows. He heard no shuffling of feet, he heard no rustling of branches or shrubbery. No one was hiding.
However, he did hear from off in the distance Gina’s wild laughter.
That’s it, PJ told himself, the kids down below were fucking with him somehow. Figures.
Gina’s laugh, coincidentally, resembled a cackle. When her far off laughter died down, PJ realized that the moaning and cackling sounds that had been so close had stopped as well.
PJ didn’t know how she threw her voice like that. Was he scared? He had to be honest with himself. Yes, he had been scared. Was there an Amazon Echo device hidden around here? Whatever, he wasn’t going to look for it.
“Good one, Gina, you got me,” he said out loud. One last look down at the grave. His flashlight was powered on. He smiled. One last turn at this game.
“Trick-or-treat!”
Suddenly, a hand reached out from underground, tearing up through the grass and soil. Its wrist was covered with decayed skin. Bones were visible.
The witch moaned once more.
The hand grasped PJ’s ankle in a clenched-finger grip.
PJ’s scream tore into the night.
Down below, in response to the scream, Ramon said, “ I told him not to get in trouble. Kids never listen.”
Thirty Years Prior
Gretchen had pneumonia. This was the last thing she needed. Her immune system was already severely damaged from all the chemotherapy. She had tongue cancer. She had undergone a total glossectomy – the removal of her tongue. No one knew what brought on this cancer. She was neither a smoker or drinker. She was never infected with a HPV virus. Just bad luck.
Or..
Some say she brought on the cancer herself. Her two sons thought so anyway. Not a religious man but not above invoking The Lord into situations that could not be explained, her oldest son Paul said, “All the negativity, all the nasty comments over the years, The Good Lord finally said ‘Enough!’ and took away her speech.”
Gretchen still spoke though. Or she tried to. Still fueled with hostilities, she screamed and cussed almost every time she tried to speak. Her foul speech was reduced to a demented cackling noise.
Neither son would have anything to do with her. Her youngest son Rick went through a bitter divorce all on account of his mother. His wife Jenna was not good enough for him. Gretchen told her so to her face many times. Rick was forced to choose between his mother and his wife. He couldn’t make the choice so Jenna made it for him. She left him. Rick remarried, and right away Gretchen started giving his new wife shit. This time, Rick cut off all communication with his mother.
Paul suffered from his mother’s toxic diatribes as well. She told him he was dumb. She told him he was a son of a bitch, to which Paul had said, “Can’t argue with that.”
Both sons loved their father, but Joe always stuck up for his wife. “You should respect her more, you should listen to what she says.” He was a weak man under the thumb of his domineering wife. So when Gretchen came down with cancer, after her tongue had been removed, neither son would help their father in taking care of their mother. When both Mother and Father dies, days or even hours apart from each other, the sons did handle the burial arrangement. Their parents had done some pre-funeral planning, but for whatever reason, they had only purchased one grave.
“Fuck it,” Paul said, “Let’s throw them in the same grave.”
Rick agreed and this is what they did. But the tombstone only honored their father.
Before their deaths, their father spent several agonizing years with his decrepit wife.
Joseph Zielinski was Gretchen’s sole caretaker.
Gretchen gave him Hell. Wore the man down.
The moan meant his wife was in pain. The cackle meant she was demanding that he do something for her. Even if her pain was minimal, she let it be known, loudly, that she wasn;t 100%.
Gretchen found sanctuary in the upstairs bedroom. She never left it.Joe brought her meals. Up and down the stairs Joe trudged. He changed her dressing or helped her to the bathroom. Through it all, she bitched and, mostly, moaned.
Then came the pneumonia. It was too much for Joe. When he could, he sat on his easy chair in the living room. Sat and did nothing. No TV watching, no reading, just staring at the wall and wondering :”why me?”
Gretchen moan/cackled over the littlest things. Any kind of noise disturbed her. If a car alarm went off outside, she moan/cackled. When he ran the garbage disposal, the same. When there was a knock on the front door.
Halloween night. The trick-or-treaters came. Joe didn’t want to get out of his chair to answer the door. Sometimes the knock and the “trick-or-treat!” went unnoticed by his wife upstairs. These were her final days and she slept off and on. She would be in a deep sleep one minute, then only lightly sleeping the next.
The damn kids in this neighborhood, even with the main door closed they still shouted “Trick-or-treat.” When awake, the sound of the kids seemed to upset Gretchen the most.
“Unnnnnnnn-eeeeeee–klahhhhhh-oooooooan!”
Joe tried to ignore both his wife and the kids at the door. Very soon, he would be successful at ignoring his wife altogether, through no fault of his own. How can a dead man come to the aid of a dying wife? Impossible, so Gretchen too died, on November 1st. But on Oct 31, at around 9:00pm, the last of the trick-or-treaters came to their door. Had Joe known it was to be the last, he would have ignored it. He was frazzled, half out of his mind.
Knock knock knock knock! “Trick-or-treat!”
“Unnnnnnnn-eeeeeee–klahhhhhh-oooooooan!”
Joe rose out of his chair. He was very dizzy, the left side of his body was numb. He was having a heart attack. Still, he managed to reach out to the front door.
Gretchen moaned once more.
Joe died as his hand grasped the knob in a clenched-finger grip.
A Haunting in Venice: Second of Two “Haunt” Films I am Reviewing That Have Recently Premiered
Haunt 1! Haunt 2! Hike! We are hiking steadily through the month of October. We move on to :”Haunt 2”, one of two relatively recent movies with the root word “Haunt” in the title. And here we are, across the Atlantic, in post World War 2 Italy, enjoying the creepy nights in Venice, riding the gondolas in the moonlight through the web of canals, floating past water-logged villas and palazzos. At least one of these palazzos is reportedly haunted. Hence we have “A Haunting in Venice”.
At the time of posting, A Haunting in Venice is still in the theaters. That’s refreshing. Thinking that EVERYTHING in movie-theater land would be sacrificed at the altar of Taylor Swift and her eucharistic experience that is Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour film, which premiered this past weekend, I made sure my ass was in the theater watching this film before the Swift Second Coming (first coming the concert, second coming the film). My older sister joined me. It was nice. Hi Roxy!
Turns out, there are still other movies one can see that don’t involve this modern-day pop diva. The horror movies are out there. Many Chicago theaters run classic horror films. Then there are at least two horror films that have premiered this month, both of which are sequels to classic horror movies. The Exorcist: Believer and Saw X. And…both of them suck poo-poo, at least according to the reviews (I have not seen them). So it seems that the best modern film to get your Halloween fix would be A Haunting in Venice. Though it is not a horror film (it’s genre= Crime/mystery), it takes place on Halloween, it is deeply submerged in spookiness, it introduces viewers to a Venetian-style Italian haunted house, and it just might have a ghost or two booing around. Or not. It’s a mystery.
But make haste! This film premiered mid September. I foresee it disappearing before Halloween week as movies such as this with a modicum of success tend not to stay in theaters for more than a month.
I suppose there are several ways one can rank this film and evaluate its quality. According to wikipedia, it is loosely based on a 1969 Agatha Christie Novel: Hallowe’en Party. It is one of several films to feature director/actor Kenenth Branagh as “Hercule Poirat”, detective and solver of murder mysteries. Hercule Poirat is a prominent character in Agatha Christie fiction, appearing in 33 of her novels
Thus, one can compare the most recent Agatha Christie movies-turned-film. Roxy says she prefers Death on the Nile, and Murder on the Orient Express to A Haunting in Venice. Perhaps it is the least of the three films of Kenneth Branagh. I haven’t seen them, nor have I read Hallowe’en Party. In fact, I haven’t read anything by Agatha Christie. I’m an AC virgin! But maybe an avid reader of the Christie chronicles can explain everything that every filmmaker gets wrong when attempting to translate her work from page to screen. I cannot. Likewise, I am not an expert on the mystery genre in general. I barely know how to play the game Clue. So I cannot compare it to other whodunit flicks.
What I can do is apply my criteria for what makes an effective haunted house film to A Haunting in Venice and see if that affects my overall liking of the movie. I will do that. Apply! Apply! Apply! Results: I like this film.
Hercule Poirat has retired in Venice, but mysteries go on, even in his own retirement sanctuary. He is called to observe a séance, set to take place on Halloween night at a palazzo where a young girl supposedly threw herself out the window several years prior. It also happens to be the same locale of a former orphanage, where many children were abandoned to the deadly clutches of the Plague. The surviving mother seeks to reconnect with her deceased daughter. Several people are in attendance and it is Poirat’s job to debunk the medium who performs the séance.
The séance ensues and several scary things happen. Later on the same evening, someone has been murdered inside the palazzo. Poirat locks everyone inside; no one is leaving until he solves the murder mystery. A guaranteed creepy night awaits as our humble detective is subjected to some terrifying encounters, possibly even ghosts!
As mentioned earlier, I am not a mystery buff. Scooby-Doo is more my speed when it comes to this stuff. So I wasn’t deeply entrenched into the whole whodunit theme. Much of the plot concerning who all the characters were and why they were at the séance was lost on me, as the characters often spoke in heavy accents. There were no subtitles for guidance. So I just sat back in my reclining theater chair and took in all the atmospherics.
The black sky. The storm. Waves crashing into the wooden poles that surround the palazzo. The creepy projection show for the kids. Tall doorway arches. Long halls and high ceilings. Statues with lifelike faces. Old time pendulum clocks. Crashing chandeliers. Flickering lights and shadows. Arcane camera angles
The mood is right. The performances are solid. Though technically not a horror movie, A Haunting in Venice is a haunted house movie and a good one at that. Not the best of all HH films, just as it probably isn’t the best mystery film. However it is satisfying and capable of fulfilling one’s urge for some Halloween chills.
Disney’s Haunted Mansion 2023 – First of Two “Haunt” Movies I’m Reviewing that Recently Premiered
Haunt 1! Haunt 2! See, I’m Mr. Autumn with these near football expressions. This article be Haunt 1 – Disney’s Haunted Mansion 2023.
Let’s go back to The summer of 2023. Summer is the season of blockbuster movies. How often did I go to the theater last summer? Just once for Spider-Man: Across the Multiverse. I really did mean to check out Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, but I guess my personal dial of destiny wasn’t set up for that. I never had any interest in seeing Barbie. Looking back, it sounds like Oppenheimer was the best of the summer movies. Missed that as well.
There was another movie I thought about going to the theater to see that summer. But after reading the dreadful reviews Haunted Mansion received, I decided I would wait until this Disney movie came out on Disney+. I still await for good ol’ Indy to stream his Dial of Destiny on that platform. As for Haunted Mansion, it premiered this past week. I watched it. I’m so glad I didn’t pay theater prices to see this film. So effin’ glad!
I knew what I was getting into. Based on the reviews, I understood the kind of movie it was without even seeing it. I knew there was a very little chance I would like this movie. Still, I hoped to find something favorable about it. And I kind of did, enough for me not to give this film a grade of an F. D+ should cover it. Hey, it’s a high D! That’s something!
Based on the Disney World attraction of the same name, I guess Haunted Mansion is supposed to be a horror fantasy comedy. Since it’s rated PG-13, I can’t describe it as a fun for the whole family kind of movie. Probably too scary for the littlest of ones. There are severed heads and stuff like that. Little kids wouldn’t really get it anyway. As a comedy, the humor falls flat. The ghosts are too hokey to be scary. Its fantasy elements are probably the strongest points, but even with those there is a lot to be desired.
Plot-in-brief: A widow and her young boy son move into a mansion that turns out to be haunted. Through a series of plot-forced events, a wacky-team of paranormal experts and one haunted house historian come to their aid and try to unhaunt the house, bringing with them the personal baggage of their personal lives which include grief, dishonesty, self-doubt, all wrapped up in over-the-top cheesiness.
The ghosts look like CGI specters straight from the 90s. It’s funny, because I remember visiting the Disney World attraction in 1982-83. The three-dimensional ghosts impressed me but I’m told the attraction hasn’t changed much. Maybe that’s why the special effects of the movie are the way they are, to keep on par with an outdated attraction? Gosh, I don’t know.
The cast is made up of well known stars. How did I like them and/or the characters they played?
- Rosario Dawson as the widow: Her character is kind of boring. I’d rather watch her as Ahsoka Tano from the Star Wars universe.
- Tiffany Haddish as a spiritual medium. She’s supposed to be funny but to me she’s obnoxious. I liked her in Girls’ Trip and maybe only in Girls’ Trip. Just as the ghosts in this film are trapped in the mansion, so is Haddish trapped in one movie as an entertainer that makes me laugh
- Owen Wilson as a priest. I already suffered with this guy in one haunted house movie (The 1999 remake of The Haunting). Now here he is again. Please Owen, stay away from haunted house films.
- Danny DeVito as a historian. He is just sort of there doing typical Danny Devito stuff.
- Jared Leto as The Hat-Box ghost. Meh! He looks like The Grinch in a Scrooge costume. Next!
- Jamie Lee Curtis as some dead medium trapped in a crystal ball. I can’t say much else, Jamie, cause you are just some head in a ball.
- LaKeith Stanfield – the main protagonist. You I liked. You were the most real
Cast – done. What next? The humor. I mean, I understood when something was supposed to be funny. Like Tiffany Haddish’s precious séance materials, on sale at Costco or something to that effect. The exact lines don’t matter.. It won’t make the moment seem any funnier. It’s sort of like when a dude at a bar comes back from the pisser and announces to his buddies, “I just drained the main vein” or “Beer goes in, Beer goes out.” Of course the buddies laugh because they recognize these statements as “humor” and, well Hell, you’re supposed to laugh at humor, ain’t ya?
On to the fantasy elements. Hallways turning topsy-turvy. Faces forming inside candles. A crocodile climbing up the walls. These are the things I like. The design/setting of the house, the portraits on the wall coming to life. I would have preferred this whole viewing experience be a first person walkthrough of the whole mansion, with ghostly happenings occurring everywhere. Yeah, have a few characters doing something but keep it simple
Let’s end where the film ends. Ghosts be dancing in the main dining room to New Orleans Jazz! Oh no, a spoiler! Who cares! I did like the music. Then finally, it all comes to a close with a final message, a suggestion from Disney itself – “Since You watched Haunted Mansion…” And there it was, in a small box at the top of the screen “Star Wars Episode 2 – Attack of the Clones.”
It’s one of those messages that gets a person thinking deep thoughts. A “hmmmm” was in order on my part. What the hell does this movie have to do with the plights of Star Wars heroes Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi? To this very hour, I still do not know. I hate unsolved riddles as much as Anakin hates sand.
October Garden – A Narrative Following an Autumn Greeting from Yours Truly.
Happy Autumn to you, Happy Autumn to you, Happy Autumn dear readers, Don’t forget to go “Boo!”
Wait…I didn’t mean for you to “boo” the song, or “boo” me for that matter. I meant to make a ghost sound because Halloween is just around the corner and… Oh, nevermind!
It is Oct 1 and I’m here to tell you what I have planned at this blog to celebrate the Halloween season.
It all begins with a narrative I wrote concerning the coming of October. This spilled out pretty darn quickly from brain to screen, so it hasn’t gone through an extensive editing process. A little odd maybe, some awkward grammar here and there perhaps. But I think it’s alright.
Later this month, I want to review two haunted house movies that have come out recently and somewhat recently. Both have the root word “Haunt” in them.
Lastly, toward the end of the month, I’ll present a short story. It involves trick-or-treating, urban legends, and cemeteries.
How’s all that sound? Sounds pretty damn awesome, right?
Since today is the first of October, let’s get right to it.
I present to you:
It all happens on an empty field. A prairie where nature is allowed to run her course. The grass is tall and there are dips in the land collecting water. Frogs splash around and add ribbits to the night.
There are houses on either side of the prairie. They are identical and evenly spaced apart. They are accompanied by cul-de-sacs and maze-like lanes and courts. Those that dwell in the cookie-cutter houses parade about in their fenced-off yards, petting their pink flamingos and warming their upturned noses under tiki lights. They spit at the early setting sun, pounding their asses into lawn chairs to hold down summer. Folding their arms, hearts shielded from the telling breeze of early autumn. Lemonade seltzers between their shaking thighs. Oh my.
At least there are trees here and there. Does anyone look at them? Does anyone care?
Albert Jenkins knows what’s up. He’s the only one. A loner by trade, but he’s never lonely. No more lonely than the huddled asses sheltered in their confines in lonely groups of two, three of four. Two lonely + three lonely + four lonely = lots of loneliness. Remove all the extra asses to decrease the loneliness down to one. One who is more than ready to say “bye-bye” to the early setting sun. (“Bye-Bye sun, hee hee, Bye bye,” Albert says) Albert knows The Spirit is only one. The only one. The One Outside. Her will shall be and its best to open your own spirit to her inevitable ways.
Albert knows. Albert knows.
The thirtieth of September fades away and come October first, while the divided dwellers log onto their devices after dinner, Albert connects instead with the network configured by The One Outside. He has always been one to look toward the sky but this evening he does so with his back pressing into the Earth. The tall grass of the prairie threatens to cover him up like a discarded body from someone’s car trunk. But that’s okay, she will always see him. She looks at him from all directions, down, up, across, and out. Mostly out. Outside of time and space, beyond that blue substance that we call sky.
“Hear me please, my Only One! To you on the Great Outside, hear my cries!”
Albert hopes The Great Spirit will hear his pleas that originate from the inside. But of course she will.
“Let October come not with hesitation, but mightily. Allow it to flourish in every single atom. In every living cell. Birth its spirit generously, and let it carry in its essence the seeds of the hallowed. Eve be early, for the Hallowed are always welcome. Prepare us for Halloween!”
The One Outside hears him. She hears him indeed.
This evening, the early darkness is welcomed, if by no one else than Albert. This single welcoming is enough for The Great Spirit to double down on her duties. To pull the veil across the sky with greater speed. To hesitate not with the coming of the night.
The nighttime skies as of late had been rather sparse of celestial bodies. Not tonight. The One Outside does her thing, pressing the tip of her finger against the firmament, burning into the black veil of night a crescent moon. So much more spectral than a moon of full light. Shaped like the Grim Reaper’s scythe, hiding its fullest essence in darkness. With a wink she twinkles into being the stars. One million bright reflections of just one of her eyes. One blink yields a legion of flickers, and thousands of her eyelashes rain down in flutters. They come to life in the form of bats, crossing the moon in their flight and spiraling downward.
Albert smiles, and the long grass blades that surround him curl and retract. Poised like snakes in the moment before an attack, they allow him to have a clear view of the sky. His heart welcomes the descending bats, for what kind of Halloween season would it be with an empty sky void of creepy moons and scary bats?
There is more. The bats aren’t the only dark animation to decorate the night. Conjured from the shadows that cover most of the moon, silhouette witches on broomsticks flee the silvery glow. They are gigantic incarnations of the wall-hanging Halloween decorations in the days of yore. Albert sees them in the moonlight. Of the shadow and from the shadow, they make their descent. So far away yet Albert sees them all.
The bats have arrived, diving in steady arcs from tree to tree. The silhouette witches, shrunken to the size of the wall-hanging decoration they resemble, have finished their descent as well. Beings of pointy hats and noses. Their broomsticks like wild projectiles curving and dipping.
“Look at them go!” Albert cries as he takes delight at the hundreds of scattering witches. And go they do, beyond the trees in the distance, over the rooftops of the cookie-cutter house dwellers. Down into their 
chimneys, through the crevices in their foundations. Of the shadow and from the shadow, to return to the shadow. They hide within the darkest corners of the houses, their distinct shape dissolving as they blend in uniformly with the blackness. Unseen, yes. Unfelt, no. The dwellers will know. The dwellers will know.
And the blades of grass on their finely-cut lawns laugh. From blade to blade, they pass along what sounds like a possessed doll’s chuckle. Blade leaning into blade, the maniacal chuckles pass beyond the property lines and into the grass of the no-man’s-land prairie, until the blades of grass surrounding our man Albert strike at him with their tiny little tips and Albert is overcome with a fit of mad giggles as he receives a tickling of knowledge.
He knows what has happened. He knows the witches haunt the homes of the dwellers. And, he knows of “the beats.”
Existing in the shadows since the dawn of time, the witches possess the ability to echo the wildest beats nature has ever known. From the crashing of tides to the eruptions of volcanos, carrying with them the tromps of the mighty dinosaurs, the silhouette witches merge these beats into a wild but capturing rhythm that overcomes these dwellers. In spasmatic movement, they flee their premises of shallow dreams in a mad, hypnotic craze. Moving unnaturally, limbs contorted, bones snapping and breaking. they arrive at the prairie and continue on with their “Autumn Dance.” Tear marks appear on their bodies and foul innards and toxic entrails spill out. Clots of blood drip in pulps. Broken bones fall from their sources and litter the lands.
Albert hears this dance and all the accompanying footsteps. He prays to The One Outside for their redemption.
“Give them a second chance. Salvage from them what is good. Let what is bad be eaten by the earth!”
The One Outside grants his wish. To the prairie she speaks in a silent tongue that only the ground understands. It is a salutation that calls for a response and the earth dares not commit blasphemy through inaction. With utmost respect, it opens not one but several mouths.
Hundreds of chasms unfold across the prairie with deafening roars. The One Outside hears these roars and she is pleased.
In deference to the mouth’s hungry roars, the silhouette witches cease with the rhythms and the Autumn Dance comes to a halt. The broken people see these foreboding chasms and hear the mighty roars. They are the shivering, hyperventilating ones, now crazed with fear, for they see all that which has spilled from their bodies coagulating together into sluggish blobs. The foulest elements of their beings, sprouting sluggish arms, pull their remains forward. Part skeleton, part blob, they crawl in a path toward their fates. Toward their graves.
These “Path-Etics” hover at the edges of the mouths. The earth’s gravity, measured in hunger, strengthens and the Path-Etics are sucked inside the mouths. When every person present has fed the worst parts of their being to the earth, the mouths close and their lips pucker into mounds of satisfaction to form burial sites.
Now, this quaint October scene upon a prairie is blessed with a Halloween staple – a cemetery. Yay for Halloween.
The terrified ones still have more to give. The One Outside draws a hearty breath. In doing so, she sucks the cancerous components of their souls out of what remains of their skins. A horde of homeless souls hover outside the bodies that once kept them so protected. Attached to nothing, their forms threatened out of existence by the whims of chance and change, these banished ghosts wail into the night.
“Save us! Keep us whole and give us a place to be!”
The One Outside looks down upon Albert. He gently nods his head. All the stars twinkle as she returns his nod with a wink, sending delightful shivers up his spine. The ground too shakes. It has been blessed by the Spirit as well and the tremors are felt over yonder by the grounds that behold the empty dwellings where the witches hide. Overcome by such a blessing, the grounds turn soft, permeable and willing. All the houses, garages, lanes and courts sink deep into the soupy grounds, never to rise again.
Out of nowhere, looking down upon the prairie, a new house has formed. A dark, mysterious mansion with a crooked terrace, loose shutters and broken windows. To this house the lost souls are banished. They take up residence immediately, taking their sorrow with them for company.
The overall setting looks quite different than it did twenty minutes ago. The sky is in full night time mode. The moon is menacing. Both bats and witches are out and about, for the witch silhouettes fled the houses when they were sinking into the ground. Only one house stands – a house of lost souls.
And yet there is still the matter of the community of former cookie-cutter house dwellers. They have lost the toxic, bile-ridden parts of their body; converted to slime, buried in graves. They have had the toxic parts of their souls removed from their essence. Though several hundred stand, there is very little left in each. It’s amazing how much toxicity consumes a person, leaving behind only a small percentage for goodness. Whatever is left stands bewildered upon the grounds. Old and young looking aimlessly in all directions. Bodies weak from depletion. The aftermath of a spiritual lobotomy. They are practically zombies.
Albert knows there is a plan for these folks. The One Outside has granted all his wishes so far. She is not about to leave the people in such a dismal state. From outside the boundaries of all that is known, She whistles a haunting melody, sending it inside a wind. The wind falls upon the land, stripping leaves from the trees to make for a picturesque autumn setting. It seeps into the soil, dropping deep, deep and deeper. The song that is inside her heavenly breath is meant for “the slithering one” that lurks deep within the earth. It alone will take in its seductive call.
Still lying with his back upon the ground, Albert’s spine feels the vibrations of the waves created by the snake-like entity. It is awake. It is the One True Root from which all living things grow. It unites all roots as it slithers among them. It passes undetected from host to host, extracting life out of every seed and cell. Its branches are infinite. It is everywhere all the time.
Tonight, The One True Root is potent like never before. The Spirit’s voice penetrates its scales and echoes throughout its elongated body. It stimulates each and every branch. Tonight the branches rise to the surface and break through the earth’s floor. They slither around every single person that stands on these grounds. They burrow into their skin and deposit seeds. New life forms sprout from within their bodies. Vines break through their stomachs, tendrils squirm out of their noses. Yellow and orange flowers break out everywhere. Green leaves unfurl throughout the entire surface area of their skins.
Firmly rooted to the ground, these people never need to move again. This is their place. It’s out with the old and in with the new. The new is coming through, breaking through their heads like hatchlings cracking through their eggs. Their new heads are big, round and orange.
The graveyard that was once a prairie is now a pumpkin patch as well. Halloween, here we come.
But the setting is not yet complete. For the first time since the beginning of this October transformation, Albert stands on his feet. He knows what he must do on behalf of the members of the community. He must empty the little bit that exists within their hollow heads. Rid them of preconceived notions. Using a pocket knife, he slices into the pumpkins and pulls out their guts. Continuing on, he carves eyes into the pumpkins’ heads so that his former neighbors may see their new environment. Next, he chisels out noses below the eyes so the former cookie-cutter house dwellers might smell autumn’s
aroma, maybe for the first time ever. Below the nose he cuts out mouths, not so they can speak but so they can smile at their brand new lives with appreciation.
The final task. Albert points to the sky. The One Outside blows him a kiss and it descends to the earth in a ray of light. The light strikes Albert on the finger, causing it to glow. “All around the neighborhood, I’m going to let it shine!” Albert says, quoting a song from his childhood. Into each and every pumpkin he inserts his glowing finger. A portion of the glow remains inside every one.
It is the best neighborly gesture ever. By the power and grace of The One Outside, Albert lights souls into existence. The light inside each pumpkin absorbs whatever portions of the old souls that have been left behind and transforms them into something fresh, something new.
It’s October at its finest. Gone are the tacky houses and the artificial people they hid. In its place is a graveyard, a pumpkin patch, a haunted house, and brand-spanking new spirits as fresh as pumpkin pie! The witches and bats make fine spectators and they take in the scene as well. Albert is mad with glee! The One Outside appoints him the caretaker of this October Garden and he accepts this position proudly. He turns to look at all the lit pumpkins. Oh how they smile! They love it. Everyone loves it. October is going to be a great month. The best. Happy Halloween!
S is for Spite House
SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!
It’s Slade! It’s Spite! Slade or Spite, Spite or Slade. Which house is it?
Last review was Slade House. This review is all about The Spite House.
Who knew there was such a thing as a spite house? Let me guess, everyone but me, probably. Maybe I was home sick from school watching Green Acres when this lesson was taught, I don’t know.
So, what is it? A one sentence description from wikipedia will do nicely – “A spite house is a building constructed or substantially modified to irritate neighbors or any party with land stakes”.
Author Johnny Compton writes about such a house. Built a long time ago to spite the operators of an orphanage, it stands clumsily on a cliff and towers over the site of the residential complex. Believing that the operators of the orphanage cheated him out of his land, the builder created this monstrosity to obstruct their view and intimidate them. Several stories tall, crooked in design, it turns out that this house is even more ugly on the inside. It is haunted and in a very malicious way.
The story begins with a family on the run. We don’t know why Eric Ross has taken his two young daughters on a fugitive’s journey across the states. This mystery persists throughout most of the book, egging the readers to continue on, page by page. We get to know his daughters well. One is a teenager. She is quite protective of her younger sister, as is the father. Both girls are quite mature for their age. They have to be.
To remain anonymous, Eric can only work jobs that are off the books. Here’s one for him – live inside a haunted house. (Pssst! This would be The Spite House. Betcha didn’t see that coming, ooooooo!). Document any paranormal activity. Report findings to the current owner, a mysterious old lady that seems over obsessed with tracking her vital signs.
There’s a lot more going on in the story as well. Can’t mention everything now, can I? However, since this blog is not only about reviewing but analyzing as well, I’m going to bring up a couple of things that, perhaps, tread slightly into spoiler territory. Please note, I said “slightly”; it’s not like I’m going to reveal Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker’s father or anything like that.
If you’ve read more than a few of my haunted house articles (can you give me a few at least? One? 😀 ), you’ll know that I love haunted houses that have special characteristics. By the broadest definition, throw a few ghosts into a house and..ta da…there you have it – a haunted house. Those houses are cute and all, but I love me some houses with unique supernatural features. The houses that feed off of people’s psychic energies, like “Hill House” or “The Overlook Hotel, from, respectively, The Haunting of Hill House and The Shining. Or the house that simply feeds on whatever boring ol’ natural energy you have, such as the house in Burnt Offerings. How about those houses with portals to arcane worlds? H.P Lovecraft has “built” a couple of these places. Or the house that is a phantom itself and only appears once every nine years. Hey, this was Slade House from the last review! Oh dear, I can go on. A house that represents and/or reflects the psychological struggles of the occupants, like in The Grip of It. Or a house that reflects social change and the trauma caused by such change – such as The House Next Door.
Wanna know what Spite House does? Well I’ll tell ya. It has the ability to keep a part of an occupant behind.
Curious Reader of this blog: you mean like an eyelash, a fingernail clipping? You’re not talking about a whole finger or anything like that, are you?).
Me: I’m talking about a part of their soul! Yes kids, I ain’t lying.
Curious Reader of this blog: How does that work, exactly?
Me: You’ll have to read the book for the details. But I’ll just say this, one of the themes of this book is blurred boundaries between the living and the dead. I’m not talking just about ghosts. I’m talking about…ah nevermind, just read the book.
Another thing I like is when haunted house stories feature a certain uncanniness about a physical feature within that house. I have labeled these the “agents of the scare” in past articles. The child’s bedroom closet in the movie Poltergeist is an example of this. In the book The Little Stranger there is the tube, a 19th century tube communication device to call out to other rooms on other levels of the house. In The Spite House, there is a bridge of sorts connecting two different structures. Scary things happen on this bridge. There might be ghosts there…or worse!
All in all, this is a good book. However, it comes to completion with several loose ends. I don’t know if Author Compton intends to write a sequel or not. As is, I was left with a mental state of “huh?” It doesn’t exactly end in a way that hints at a follow-up either. Perhaps it’s intended for readers to remain mystified over such enigmatic concepts as life and death and any gray areas in between. Humanity has been stumped by such things ever since it first spawned, and alas, I guess we must continue on with our confusion.
S is for Slade House
The next two haunted house book reviews are brought to you by the letter S. Ya see, the names of the houses in each of these two books begins with the letter “s”. Is it Sammy and Sarah? Sid and Susie? Sucky and Spoogy?
Nah, nothing like that.
More like Slade and Spite!
Kind of has a “tit for tat” sing-songy element to it, don’t ya think?
“Spite and Slade or Slade and Spite.
A Slade of Spite to Spite the Slade!”
Or, more appropriately – Slade House and The Spite House
Based on the name only, I confused these two books. I heard about them around the same time. I’d be like, “What was the name of that “S” Haunted House book I was interested in reading?” And I’d search for it and come up with the other. I’d see the synopsis is like this, which is cool and all, but I thought it was supposed to be about that?”
“That and This and This and That!”
“This for that or That is this”
Turns out, I ended up reading both Slade House and The Spite House.. And here I go, trying to remember what I liked about them. One should always review a book shortly after reading it. As I mentioned in my last review, I haven’t been doing this. Shame on me.
Let’s begin with Slade House by David Mitchell. Amazon is telling me I purchased this item on Dec 22, 2022. What a way to kick off the Christmas holidays!
Slade House appears only to a few. Pray you’re not one of them. Its entrance is off the beaten path. Behind a pub and down an alley. I remember something about a gate that is locked. Unless it isn’t. Or unless someone has a key. The point is, it’s sometimes permeable. People do go through the gate. Into the house. Into a twisted reality from which few can escape.
Every nine years, the house welcomes guests. There are at least three different stories, maybe more. Different characters from varying time periods. There is a different premise to each story. But the end results are almost always the same. This fooled me. Every. Single. Time. What is that expression..fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me? I’ve shamed myself already in this article by admitting to not writing these reviews in a timely manner, so if I can be fooled twice (more than twice, actually) then I guess I can be shamed twice.
In these excursions into Slade House, unreality always sets in for that one person. Things become twisted. Slowly. Then all of a sudden.
As I delved into the meat and guts of each account. I related to the characters and I felt as if I too was exploring Slade House with them. Oh, but certain conditions are different from the previous story I just read, so maybe this time,I thought, things would be different for the characters I’m currently invested in. This time it’s romantic; a cozy situation. Two lonely people have found each other. It’s still a horror novel, a kind of ghost story, so..okay, allow in a ghost or two, a few little simple scares, that’s enough. Nope! Not enough. Same twisted fate. Another time it’s a festive party. Lots of people to bare witness to anything strange, not just one or two people facing some private, mind-fuck of a reality-warp. Nope! The person you thought would make it is toast!
These “trips” into Slade House are just that – trips. They seem like acid trips is what I’m getting at. But Slade House doesn’t need to drug its inhabitants in order to screw with their minds. It is very capable of distorting one’s sense of reality without psychoactive substances. The story about the party, however, does involve laced brownies and things like that. Please don’t tell me that the character I’m rooting for is actually tripping while at the same time experiencing a supernatural trip! That would be toooo much. And yet…it might have happened. Oh dear!
Slade House is a freaky, trippy book, that’s for sure. If you like stuff like that, this book is for you.
Review of How to Sell a Haunted House by Grady Hendrix
Welcome to the most modern book review on this list to date. Published in January 2023, I pre-ordered this book many months before it was available. Silly me, I thought I could just click and read. “No Mr Cheely”, the Amazon Goddesses were telling me, “The hour has not yet come.”
I finished it sometime in March I believe. Since I had to wait to read it, then certainly it’s understandable that I waited before I wrote about it. Likewise, surely it’s excusable that I am making my readers wait for this review. (yeah yeah, “Don’t call me Shirley, I get it.)
For the several months I waited, I wondered about this book. I had seen the advertisements. I read the hype. But I don’t seem to recall receiving any clues as to just what in the heck this book was all about.
When confronted with a title like “How to Sell a Haunted House,” the human brain conjures several guesses as to the subject.. At least mine did. I think it’s a human brain that I have lodged somewhere in my cranium. At least I hope so anyway. Here are a couple of speculations that ugly looking thing in my head had created.
A book like this could be intended as a serious instructional manual. By this I mean it might be a non-fictional, real estate advice book targeting sellers that just aren’t able to fully cleanse their house before going on the market. Old fashioned elbow grease might be just the thing to scrub the walls, but no amount of work or chemical solution is able to rid the house of the ghostly remains of dear Aunt Ella and Uncle Seymour. Therefore, this book was written to teach readers how to list a haunted house, what to reveal to prospective customers and what not to disclose. It answers that aged-old question, “Are there any legal issues when selling a haunted house?”
Or, this book is a comedic fictional misadventure of some hopeful couple trying to sell while leaving their dear old bat of a mother-in-law behind. “Mrs. Realtor, if you are having an open house on the last Saturday of the month, please oh please do not show prospective buyers the wine cellar! Dear old mom would get her social security check around that time, the amount was never enough, and she would drink in despair in the cellar. Being dead hasn’t stopped this ritual. She’ll throw empty bottles at anyone who enters.” Or, “Don’t show them the upstairs bathroom. Mom is a prankster and she likes to jump up out of the toilet and say “Boo!”
As it turns out, Hendrix’s book does not resemble the two scenarios I presented to you. Nor is it about several other half-concocted synopses I had floating around in my head. It’s about creepy dolls that watch the living. It’s about sinister puppets that possess the living. It’s about taxidermied squirrels that break free from their frozen states to join the living.It’s also about imaginary creatures escaping from the prison of someone’s imagination and breaking into reality.
I didn’t see any of this coming. Well, actually I did. Not long before the publishing date, more of the plot was revealed and dolls were mentioned. But in the beginning, I wouldn’t have guessed. I knew nothing. NOTHING!
I won’t give too much away about the plot. An estranged brother and sister are forced to reunite after the sudden, tragic death of their parents. They must put aside past differences to settle important, financial matters. To sell their parents house or not to sell, that is the question. This dilemma proves challenging as brother and sister can’t seem to see eye-to-eye on anything. It doesn’t help matters any that certain pieces of their mother’s doll and puppet collection start coming to life to screw with the living.
Possessed dolls and puppets. That’s all scary and freaky and stuff, but can such abnormal antics meet the criteria for what makes up a haunted house story. I mean, the movie Child’s Play features a doll named “Chuckie” that likes to kill people. He does so, I believe, in a house. Or was it an apartment? Who cares, the point is this question: “s Child’s Play a haunted house movie? No it is not. Neither would be the third story in Karen Black’s The Trilogy of Terror, a made for TV movie where an African fetish doll chases poor Karen Black around her apartment while trying to knife her to death.
Ahh, but How to Sell a Haunted House can be considered a haunted house novel. First of all, the author says it is in the title of his book. That helps the cause. How can the author be wrong?
Second, in true gothic fashion, there are family secrets and an unveiling mystery to lead the reader along. Third, there are rooms, an attic and garage, described in detail. Something is hidden in the yard. These places are destined to host disturbing situations. Finally, for those bent on the need for a haunted house story to have a ghost, this book accommodates, but maybe not in a way the reader expects.
How to Sell a Haunted House is an intriguing book with several quirky characters to add flavor to the story. Kudos to author Gary Hendrix! This is the second time I’m reviewing a book by this author. The other review was about his book Paperbacks from Hell: The Twisted History of ‘70s and ‘80s Horror Fiction.
I found him on Facebook and sent a friend request. But he must have been so overwhelmed at receiving such a request from me, that he is still stewing over it, fearful of making this connection. He needs time to emotionally prepare for this milestone. I understand, Mr. Hendrix. Take your time and I’ll continue to see you in the books!
Evil Dead Rise
To write or not to write, that was the question I asked myself in the theater over and over as the movie was running its course. When blood relentlessly poured into an elevator car, threatening to drown two victims, then I knew the answer. Supernatural events were occurring independently of the “deadites” (A franchise term for the demon-possessed folks). Therefore, Evil Dead Rise can qualify as a haunted house film. I will explain in more detail as I “rise” to the occasion and write this review!
I saw this during the final stretch of the opening weekend. My Sunday evening (April 22) was filled with blood, gore and guts. How was yours? If you have been following the film’s buzz, then you have probably already heard about it. It has been met with mostly positive reviews.
I enjoyed the film as well, but I can’t resist offering up some of what I will call “Old Man Dan Criticism”. By the way, I’m the “Old Man Dan;” old not necessarily in years (I’m only fifty-two years young) but in tastes.
What are the critics saying? I’ve taken the liberty to extract several adjectives from various reviews. Some of these words might seem negative, but these adjectives have been taken from the positive reviews. Remember, the horror world can be backwards. Words sounding repulsive to a normal, clean-cut, model citizen are in fact taken as compliments to a horror fan.
See for yourself:
Visceral , exhilarating, cathartic , unrelenting, gorefest (I think this was used as an adjective), eviscerating , merciless, jolting, grisly, riveting , gruesome, manic, unhinged , gutsy, “effed-up”, disgusting, unpretentious, intense, horrifying, disturbing, twisted, sadistic
Aren’t those lovely, colorful words?
Before we get to my words, let’s do a refresher on the Evil Dead Franchise. I know, you already know all there is to know about it. But that other person reading this article might not. So, let’s rewind.
Evil Dead Here at this Blog
This isn’t the first time I’ve written about this franchise. I dedicated quite bit of effort writing about Evil Dead and Evil Dead 2: Dead By Dawn. It was a favorite of mine growing up.
For those unfamiliar with the franchise, the premise goes something like this: someone stumbles upon The Book of the Dead. Constructed in human flesh, written in blood, the book contains several passages that, when recited, invite flesh-possessing demons into our world. And you know what, they seem to always accept the invitation. I have yet to see an Evil Dead film where the unseen demons reply to the calling, “Not today, we’ve got laundry to do.”
The first film, Evil Dead, I praised for its low-budget appeal; though amateurish in some respects, it came off as a noticeably passionate undertaking from a couple of filmmaker friends (Sam Raimi and Bruce Campbell). The second I lauded for its mixture of horror and comedy, which was blended in such a unique way.
These reviews are part of a series I was doing on Haunted Cabins
Even though it is a book that is haunted and there is nothing intrinsically haunted about the cabin in which the horror plays out, I felt these two films were appropriate for this blog on haunted houses because:
- Supernatural events occur in a self-contained environment (the cabin)
- It meets my own criteria for “what is a haunted house”
There are other haunted house stories that focus mostly on the ghosts that haunt the house. The house is but their stage; a platform that enables these specters to show off their ghostly antics. This “stage” can provide the perfect atmosphere for their performance if the lighting is gloomy enough, if the props and furnishings give the surroundings the right touch of “haunt”.
3. Wikipedia lists these films as part of the haunted house genre. Wikipedia is never wrong!
The third film, The Army of Darkness, I didn’t review. There is no house or cabin. Instead, franchise hero Ash Williams goes back in time to the Middle Ages to fight the undead.
The fourth film, Evil Dead 2013, is a remake of the original. More serious in tone, it is inferior to to its predecessors. I saw it but didn’t bother to review it.
Ash Vs. The Evil Dead is a series. Ash Williams is back, living in a trailer, and leading a life devoted to slaying the “deadites”. I’ve seen a few episodes. It’s an alright show but for some reason it just didn’t grab me.
Now in 2023, along comes another Evil Dead Rise. It doesn’t just come, it “rises”. Oooooo!
I would say this is a reimagining more than a remake. The supernatural events take place in an apartment complex rather than a cabin. Therefore, the evil fun is extended to such spheres of eerie atmosphere as the hallways, elevator, and parking garage. The characters involve single mother Ellie who is raising three children. Two are teenagers, Danny and Bridget, and one is a young girl named Kassie. Their Auntie Beth comes to visit them. Danny discovers The Book of the Dead in a hidden vault within the apartment. It contains records that have the deadite-inducing passage. He plays the records and the evil spirits come. Teenagers! Always opening cans of worms.
The first one to turn into a deadite is Ellie. She turns into The Mommy from Hell!
This would have been a perfect film to include in my Haunted Apartment Series. Alas, I wrote this back when, and now is now so.. Well, that’s the way the building crumbles I guess! Anyways, Evil Dead Rise meets my criteria as a haunted house film. The “haunting” occurs in a self-contained space. And, certain spooky things happen that go beyond a few possessed individuals. Lights flicker. The power goes out. Stereos power on and off on their own accord. And, as I mentioned in the beginning of the article, an elevator is overrun with blood.
My Thoughts on Evil Dead Rise
Okay, as promised, it’s my turn to spew words
I’m going to put on my old man skin now. I do have other skins, mind you. What the old man version of myself thinks may not necessarily reflect the views of the other skins.
Okay, ready for some Old Man Dan bitching? Well, ready or not, here it comes –
It’s too loud. It’s too fast. Slow down, deadite, slow down, ghoul!. I can’t even get a good look at you. Hey editor, can you let the camera do its thing before you cut to a new scene? Why is there so much loud music whenever there’s a scare? Let the objects on the screen do their job at frightening. Yes I jumped in my seat. Again and again. Too many jump scares crush my sitz bones. Gore and Splatter, Splatter and gore! And yet, here comes some more.I guess more blood equals more horror and more horror equals better horror! What is the cinematic horror world coming to? The film is over now, here comes the credits and ohh my head hurts. I’m exhausted and hyped up at the same time and, oh shit, I have to go to work tomorrow. It sucks to be me!
It’s true. I felt all those things I wrote above. In past reviews I’ve stated over and over how I like a patient camera, atmosphere over blast-o-sphere (blasting the audience with noise, blood, and jumps).
Still….
This film is creepy as fuck! I like it that way. It’s more than just sensation-bombardment. Alyssa Sutherland who plays Ellie, a loving mother turned evil deadite, does an excellent job. Her facial expressions as a deadite are spot on. There are certain gory moments that are truly unexpected. They caught me off guard and caused me to chuckle (nervously?) and exclaim “Holy shit!” And there were moments the film relied on tension rather than everything, everywhere all at once (oops, wrong movie). Like when the kids and sister realize something is not quite right with Mommy Deadite but aren’t sure what is happening. She is quietly mumbling psychotic things as she fiddles around at the stove, frying up a dozen or so eggs, shells and all.
Then there’s the part where Mommy Deadite is locked out of the apartment but is able to slip into the vents. We, and the trapped apartment dwellers, hear the clang clang clang of someone or something making their way inside from somewhere behind the walls. So it’s not all quick camera moves and screams and spatters. Sometimes things “creep” along at a reasonable pace; as I said, creepy as fuck!
So, yes the film is saturated with “high-octane scares”, noise, jump scares and a hyperactive camera. But it puts all this together artfully if that makes any sense.
But is Evil Dead Rise as good as its predecessors?
Oh no. Un uh. No siree Bob. Sorry it just isn’t.
Some other adjectives used by critics giving this film a positive review are “fun”, “comedic” and “Groovy!”
Yes, this film was fun. As fun as the ones that came before? No.
Is this film comedic? Sort of. Or..no not really. Not in the way of Evil Dead 2 at least. If anything, at times, it tries to be like that. But, well, just no.
Is it groovy? NO! That word is reserved for Bruce Campbell only. He uttered it. He is not in this film. He gets to keep it. Case closed.
And so closes this review. Have a good day. Or Evening. Or Something.
****
The Books of Daniel 