The Addams Family set the stage but the sequel outdid its predecessor. It’s not even necessary to see the first one to understand the events of the second. Despite not meeting the criteria of a holiday-themed movie, it was released on November 19, 1993, and yes, all the semi-wholesome weirdness still holds up 29 years later (as does Tag Team’s Addams Family theme and “Whoomp! (There It Is)” remix).

Addams Family Values begins with eternal lovebirds Morticia (Anjelica Huston) and Gomez Addams (Raúl Juliá) welcoming their third child, Pubert (Kaitlyn and Kristen Hooper), whom homicidal siblings Wednesday (Christina Ricci) and Pugsley (Jimmy Workman) immediately hate. With the addition of the little mustachioed baby, the Addamses need a nanny. Enter the beautiful but seemingly ordinary Debbie Jellinsky (Joan Cusack), who’s a black widow serial killer with a growing body count. 

Oddly enough, this plot is very similar to The Addams Family, which sees the greedy Abigail Craven (Elizabeth Wilson) and her son Gordon, aka Uncle Fester (Christopher Lloyd) with amnesia, trying to con the Addamses out of the family fortune. But Debbie is a much better villain. She may be a blonde bombshell dressed in white but her wickedly dark sense of humor immediately vibes with the Addamses, making her quite the unique normie. I mean, her reaction to Thing (Christopher Hart), a sentient disembodied hand, is putting its finger in her mouth. 

Wednesday sees through Debbie just like she saw through Craven and Gordon/Fester before he was struck by memory-restoring lightning. In true evil stepmother fashion, Debbie gets Wednesday and Pugsley sent off to summer camp where they can’t derail her plans. Soon after, the literal golddigger Debbie “I want you dead and I want your money” Jellinsky becomes an Addams and the newlyweds move into a McMansion decked out in pastels. Her failed attempts to kill her rich husband are more like murderous foreplay since it’s implied Fester is somehow immortal, or at the very least extremely durable.

Over at Camp Chippewa, Wednesday and Pugsley meet Gary Granger (Peter MacNicol) and Becky Martin-Granger (Christine Baranski), the demented, painfully cheerful counselors who mostly speak in platitudes. There’s also the quintessential ’90s era mean girl Amanda Buckman (Mercedes McNab), who immediately critiques their black outfits. (McNab appeared in The Addams Family as a Girl Scout selling cookies.) Among their fellow outcasts is the sweet and nerdy Joel Glicker (David Krumholtz). He’s entranced by Wednesday’s boldness, and she tolerates him, sparking a beautiful awkward romance.

Addams Family Values called out white privilege before it was cool. In a 2018 interview with The Hollywood Reporter, Paul Rudnick discussed the film’s political commentary and the conservative “family values” slogan of the early 1990s, saying, “In Republican terms, ‘family values’ is always code for censorship and exclusion…I like to believe that the Addams Family is far more loving and accepting than their enemies.” Camp Chippewa is essentially a camp for Young Republicans where everyone is white, blonde, and khaki’d. Anyone outside those parameters is the “other,” and therefore, cast as Native Americans, or as Amanda’s Sarah Miller calls them (twice) “savages.”

Why this summer camp is putting on a whitewashed historically inaccurate Thanksgiving play is never addressed but it seems to further illustrate just how out of touch these people are. Gary’s (racist, ableist, classist) vision crumbles when Wednesday gets real about the holiday’s genocidal origins and leads the other outcasts in setting everything ablaze. 

Wednesday’s not the only one who delivers an epic monologue. Gomez has an on-brand over-the-top theatrical breakdown about his brother, and Debbie gives an impassioned speech justifying her criminal past, complete with a slideshow. If she didn’t want to specifically kill them, the Addamses would have lovedhaving her around. They’re advocates for chaos but a brotherly bond comes first.

But let’s talk about Debbie’s majorly covetable wardrobe. Her soft, light-colored ensembles are quite striking against the usual gloomy gothic surroundings. As she maneuvers her way into Fester’s life, her look goes from chic nanny prospect to virginal seductress to husband-killing femme fatale, headscarf, and all. Costume designer Theoni V. Aldredge (Ghostbusters) perfectly crafted all the Addamses’ signature looks, though Gomez’s dashing suits and Morticia’s tight black dresses are standouts. The Addams matriarch always has an unearthly glow highlighting her eyes (thanks to Huston’s contractually required key light). 

Addams Family Values is an endlessly quotable ’90s gem that should have a place in your Thanksgiving movie rotation if there is such a thing — not because it takes place on the actual holiday or teaches us about sharing with others, but because the bizarre family unit celebrates their love for one another daily. They’re ghoulish and they revel in violence, but they’re also a deeply devoted family. It’s also just a genuinely hilarious movie with a talented cast playing their collectively strange characters to perfection. 

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In the pre-show film, directed by Joe Dante (Gremlins, Small Soldiers), The Twilight Zone’s legendary host Rod Serling tells them about Halloween night 1939, when five hotel guests aboard the elevator vanished after it was struck by lightning. The hotel closed after that fateful night and the five unlucky souls were trapped in the fifth dimension.

In 1997, Disney brought back The Wonderful World of Disney, a weekly series that aired every Sunday night on ABC, which began in 1954 and has seen multiple eras since then. When the studio decided to make an original made-for-TV movie based on Tower of Terror, they went to kid-friendly horror extraordinaire D.J. MacHale, co-creator of Are You Afraid of the Dark?, to write and direct. This was Disney’s first movie based on a ride, though it was soon followed by several more titles that would overshadow it, such as Haunted Mansion, Jungle Cruise, and of course, Pirates of the Caribbean.

MacHale was tasked with expanding the pre-show story into a feature-length film, all while trying to “emulate the ride experience.” Unable to close down the actual ride for filming, the production team, including production designer Phil Dagort (American Horror Story) and set decorator Archie D’Amico (Ugly Betty), had to replicate the hotel lobby in a Los Angeles warehouse, taking a quarter of the already small budget.

The movie opens with the basic premise of the ride. It’s Halloween night, 1939. Panning around a table covered in melting candles, random trinkets, and a spellbook, we hear an unseen person reciting a mostly indistinct spell. Outside the Hollywood Tower Hotel, it’s all thunder and lightning (sans rain). Inside, there’s a hopping party with big band music and swing dancers at the Tip Top Club on the 12th floor.

Amid flashing cameras and busy bellhops, five passengers board the main elevator — Shirley Temple-esque child star Sally Shine (Lindsay Ridgeway) and her scowling nanny Emeline Partridge (Wendy Worthington); actor-singer Carolyn Crosson (Melora Hardin), actor Gilbert London (Alastair Duncan), and cheery bellhop Dewey Todd (John Franklin). But before they arrive, the elevator is suddenly struck by lightning, zapping them into thin air. 

Sixty years later, we meet disgraced journalist Buzzy Crocker (Steve Guttenberg) working for a tabloid magazine a la The National Inquirer. With the help of his teenage niece Anna (Kirsten Dunst), Buzzy stages fake alien and ghost photos for his articles. Years ago, the once revered journalist wrote about a corrupt mayor that turned out to be false. He lost all credibility and his job at the Los Angeles Banner, where his ex-girlfriend Jill Perry (Nia Peeples) still works as an editor. 

There’s at least one person who thinks he’s the man to solve a decades-old mystery. He’s approached by Abigail Gregory (Amzie Strickland), an elderly woman who lived at the hotel 60 years before. According to her, the accident was the result of a botched curse cast by Emeline Partridge, a witch who tried to damn young Sally to hell for no apparent reason other than hating the girl. Since that night, their ghosts have been trapped in limbo and Abigail wants to set them free.

As someone who makes their living faking supernatural encounters, it’s no surprise Buzzy is a skeptic. But writing about the infamous mystery could be his big comeback, so he jumps at the opportunity to redeem himself. He enlists the help of the hotel’s caretaker Chris “Q” Todd (Mike McShane), a descendant of Dewey Todd and sole inheritor of the property. But because of his great-grandfather’s odd stipulation in his will, the hotel cannot reopen until the mystery is solved. 

Buzzy loves the idea of a true story but can’t help himself when it comes to photos. He has Anna don a Sally dress and puts an ad out for an actor to play Partridge. Claire Poulet, who we immediately recognize as ghostly starlet Carolyn Crosson (Hardin), shows up looking radiant.

Meanwhile, the other specters go full Beetlejuice trying to scare them off. Sally appears in a green-hued phantom rain, singing and tapping to a haunting rendition of “It’s Raining, It’s Pouring” (from the ride’s pre-show). There’s a headless man in a tuxedo holding a meat cleaver and a bellhop with a noose. The alleged witch nearly pushes Anna into a fiery elevator shaft. 

As an adult viewer, old Abigail is sus from the get-go, and the more they investigate, the less her version of events makes sense. Thanks to Jill’s solo investigation, we find out that this sweet elderly woman was the spellcaster all along. Her totally logical reason for intentionally murdering Sally (and accidentally killing the others)? Abigail was jealous of Sally, her famous little sister, enough to want her to suffer for eternity. Plus, no one remembered Abigail’s birthday on Halloween. 

Why try to redo the curse 60 years later? Well, Abigail had been in a sanitarium since she was 10 and just recently earned out privileges. Other than “the accident had a profound effect on her,” there are no details about her mental health, who let a child be committed to a sanitarium, or why a 10-year-old was dabbling in black magic. Her obsession with condemning their souls to the underworld also seems unnecessary. So many unanswered questions. 

However, the joke’s on Abigail because ghost Sally tells Buzzy how much she adored her big sis and couldn’t wait to see her at the Tip Top Club’s Halloween soiree in 1939, which was Abigail’s surprise birthday party. Whoops! Still, she gets a happy ending along with everyone else. Sally forgives her, breaking the curse. Even though Abigail is very much alive, the sisters’ spirits unite and float away.

If there’s any Disney movie that deserves a remake, it’s Tower of Terror. Thankfully, one is in development with Scarlett Johansson attached as a producer and Taika Waititi as a director, which is still happening as of 2023.

Disney’s Tower of Terror is a family-friendly mashup of The Shining and Ghost Ship, the perfect gateway into the horror genre. While the low-budget made-for-TV movie has its flaws, the creepy imagery, intriguing mystery, and golden age of Hollywood setting make it a Halloween staple that continues to hold up. 

Unfortunately, Tower of Terror isn’t streaming anywhere, not even on Disney+. Your best bet is tracking down a DVD at your local library or purchasing it online. 

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A group of pre-teen misfits — Sean (Andre Gower), Patrick (Robby Kiger), and Horace (Brent Chalem) — bond over their love of horror movies. Rudy (Ryan Lambert), a cool junior high kid with a ’50s greaser style, also joins the club. Sean’s little sister, Phoebe (Ashley Bank), desperately wants to be a part of the club, but it’s boys only, of course. However, sometimes Eugene (Michael Faustino), who is likely only a little older than Phoebe, gets to tag along. 

Their kids’ horror knowledge comes in handy when monsters invade their town in search of a powerful artifact. Club leader Sean comes into possession of the diary of legendary monster hunter Dr. Abraham Van Helsing (Jack Gwillim). With the help of the neighborhood’s Scary German Guy (Leonardo Cimino), the team is able to translate the diary and learn more about an ancient amulet.

Scary German Guy, who is actually a kind man, says that he “has some experience with monsters.” It’s revealed to the audience that he has a number tattooed on his arm, meaning he’s a Holocaust survivor. Quite dark for a movie targeting kids, but it’s never addressed so we’re just left to sit with that. 

Count Dracula (Duncan Regehr) is hellbent on retrieving the amulet, which would give him the power to rule the world, because that’s what every villain wants. He forms an army of monsters to help him, including the Wolfman (Jon Gries/Carl Thibault), the Mummy (Michael Reid MacKay), Frankenstein’s Monster (Tom Noonan), and the Gillman (Tom Woodruff Jr.), who was obviously modeled after the eponymous character in Creature from the Black Lagoon. 

Regehr’s interpretation of Dracula is considered one of the best in film/TV history. He plays Dracula as very serious and malevolent. He’s not sexualized or charismatic, which are usually staples for the character. Tom Noonan as Frankenstein’s Monster plays to his more innocent aspects. He forms a sweet bond with Phoebe, which in turn allows her to join the boys‘ club. These are the only monsters who have any personality. The other three kind of just do what they’re told. I’m not sure what purpose the Mummy serves, but he’s pretty scary to look at. 

The Monster Squad doesn’t seem like it would be a well-made film with high production value. The film’s biggest strength is its special effects. The monsters look fantastic thanks to the Stan Winston Studio and its expert artists. Universal wouldn’t license their monsters, so the art department was tasked with making creatures with a likeness to the classic monsters. 

Like most cult classics, The Monster Squad bombed in theaters, likely due to the poor marketing. Opening two weeks after The Lost Boys didn’t help either. It was also a bit confusing that it seems like a kids movie, but is rated PG-13. It took the film years to build a fanbase. Thanks to cable television and VHS rentals, it reached a wider audience. The resurgence is owed to its diehard fans, who campaigned for a DVD release and got it. 

Some aspects of it don’t hold up for an audience today. It’s not Revenge of the Nerds-level bad, though. There are some homophobic slurs, slut-shaming, and fat-shaming, which isn’t surprising given it’s an ’80s movie. Those instances will make you cringe, but that doesn’t make it less entertaining. Just don’t expect it to pass the Bechdel test, or the DuVernay test for that matter. The only Black character is Detective Sapir (Stan Shaw), and he’s only there so Sean’s dad, Del (Stephen Macht), has someone other than his family to talk to.

Lisa Fuller, who plays a teenage girl and has enough scenes in the movie to warrant a name, is simply credited as “Patrick’s Sister.” Scary German Guy has a pivotal role, yet we never learn his real name. However, if you see it from a kid’s point-of-view, you don’t really care about actual names. You call them what you call them, especially your friends’ siblings.

There are plenty of logical flaws (that the filmmakers and cast are completely aware of), like, why did the Mummy randomly hide in a kid’s closet only to do nothing and then leave? Where did the Desperate Man (aka the human who turns into a werewolf) come from, and who bit him? Why does a vampire go around tossing dynamite when he possesses otherworldly abilities? So many questions. But do we need the answers? Not really. Horror asks you to suspend belief and that’s definitely necessary here. 

The Monster Squad is not a perfect film, but it’s an enjoyable one. It makes me nostalgic for a time I didn’t even live in, which I think is effective. If you can avoid viewing this 1987 film with a present-day lens, you’ll have a good time watching it. You also can’t put too much thought into the nonsensical plot. Laughing at its ridiculousness is part of the fun. 

The Monster Squad is available to stream on Amazon Prime Video, Paramount+, and for free on YouTube. 

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It wasn’t until Seed of Chucky that he made his directorial debut, which hit theaters on November 11, 2004. Unfortunately, it didn’t do well at the box office, making it the last Child’s Play movie to premiere in theaters. Some fans consider it the worst in the franchise, though others, especially the LGBTQ+ community, regard it as a campy cult classic. 

With the 20th anniversary approaching and in honor of the unceremonious cancellation of the Chucky series, let’s look back at this polarizing film that the studio considered “too gay, too funny…” and had “too much Jennifer Tilly” (as if there’s ever such a thing).

Most, if not all, horror franchises run into the same problem after a few sequels — the slashers stop being scary. To avoid that, Mancini subverted expectations by steering the Child’s Play films in a more comedic, self-referential direction, beginning with 1998’s Bride of Chucky directed by Ronny Yu (Freddy vs. Jason). There were still horror elements but it deviated from the story of Andy Barclay (Alex Vincent and Justin Whalin), the young protagonist central to Child’s Play 1–3. The film introduced Chucky’s (Brad Dourif) fabulously twisted ex-girlfriend, Tiffany Valentine, played to perfection by Jennifer Tilly.

After bribing and then killing a police officer to obtain Chucky’s remains, Tiffany stitches him together and recites the Damballa voodoo spell to resurrect her old lover. Tiffany spent a decade looking for Chucky, believing that he planned to marry her but he laughs in her face at the idea, so she locks him in a playpen, later taunting him with a bride doll. At this point, Chucky has come back from the dead four times; a measly cage doesn’t hold him for long. After killing her in a very cool Bride of Frankenstein-inspired death, Chucky traps Tiffany in the bride doll, which she gives a serious glow-up in a makeover montage. 

To transfer their souls into humans, the doll couple needs the Heart of Damballa amulet, inconveniently located 6 feet under in Hackensack, New Jersey, with Charles Lee Ray’s corpse. Tiffany pays her neighbor Jesse (Nick Stabile) to deliver the dolls, and he brings along his girlfriend Jade (Katherine Heigl). 

The two couples go on a wild road trip leaving several bodies in their wake. After witnessing Tiffany committing a gruesomely creative murder involving a waterbed, a mirror, and a Champagne bottle, Chucky finally puts a ring on it. But their violently rocky relationship hits a few speed bumps along the way, and by the end, they’re literally at each other’s throats in a cemetery. Tiffany tries to kill Chucky, but he stabs her instead, and then Jade shoots him to death. Before the credits roll, Tiffany briefly wakes up and gives birth to a slimy, sharp-toothed (kinda cute) baby doll. 

Seed of Chucky picks up six years later and we learn that the screeching infant was found by a British guy named Psychs (Keith-Lee Castle), a cruel ventriloquist who forces the ghoulish-looking doll (voiced by Billy Boyd) that he dubbed Shitface to be the dummy in his act. The orphaned doll has a kind and gentle heart but is plagued by murderous nightmares.

Meanwhile, in Hollywood, actor Jennifer Tilly (played by Jennifer Tilly) is on the set of Chucky Goes Psycho, a horror film based on the legend of the dolls inhabited by the souls of serial killers. The last time we saw Chucky and Tiffany, they were burnt to a crisp and riddled with bullets, but they’ve since had a makeover. Luckily, their offspring sees them on TV with the same Made in Japan markings, then flees England and runs away to Los Angeles to find their family. Better yet, they have the amulet to bring them back to life. 

While he’s mostly referred to as male, the character’s gender is ambiguous. Chucky wants a boy, Tiffany wants a girl, so their child is called Glen or Glenda (an homage to Ed Wood’s cult classic). Tiffany sets her sights on transferring her soul into Jennifer Tilly and Chucky’s into hip-hop superstar-turned-director Redman (playing himself). The plan is to impregnate Jennifer and whatever baby pops out is for Glen or Glenda. 

Considering their brief but nightmarish introduction in Bride, this “Dickensian waif” who wets his pants when he’s nervous was not what fans expected. Instead of a natural-born killer with their parents’ same lust for murder, Glen/Glenda is firmly against killing, at least a part of them. As they struggle with their gender identity, they also confront their killer instincts.

Seed haters couldn’t get on board with the meta-Hollywood aspect. Jennifer Tilly playing a version of herself while still voicing Tiffany, and later playing Tiffany in the body of Jennifer Tilly, is a lot to wrap your head around. She pokes fun at herself by playing a washed-up actor, annoyed with doing horror when she wants the juicy parts given to Julia Roberts. She’s determined to land the role of the Virgin Mary in Redman’s “Bible epic.

Many often critique the multiple plot points, believing there are too many things going on when all that should be happening is Chucky killing people. Still, the film has some pretty cool kills. Glen/Glenda takes out sleazy paparazzo Pete Peters (John Waters) with acid and sets Jennifer’s assistant Joan (Hannah Spearritt) on fire, both accidents. Tiffany disembowels Redman after he fires Jennifer for being pregnant (though Mary would indeed be pregnant).

The comedy is very much of the time back when people thought it was cool to hate Britney Spears and celebs like Martha Stewart and Anna Nicole Smith were frequently referenced. But there’s still some humor that holds up. Glen/Glenda knowing nothing about himself other than the Made in Japan manufacturer mark and informing his personality is just hilarious.

Seed is also very much about acceptance. Tiffany tries to fight what she sees as an addiction to killing and knows that she wants to be a mother first (with some murderous tendencies). Jennifer gives birth to twins, allowing Glen/Glenda to split their identities in two. Even Chucky finds self-acceptance. Since the beginning, his main motivation has been to transfer his soul into a human body for good. But here, he realizes that he would rather embrace his serial killing nature in doll form, declaring “I am Chucky, the killer doll. And I dig it!”

Seed of Chucky is not for everyone, namely anyone looking for something truly terrifying. Mancini took a big swing making a full-on comedy that plays into the absurdity of killer dolls while touching on poignant topics like gender identity, addiction, and acceptance. For those who can accept that Seed of Chucky is a meta off-the-rails comedy, it’s a gory, good time. 

The post Cult Classics: An Appreciation of Don Mancini’s Polarizing ‘Seed of Chucky’ appeared first on Black Girl Nerds.

The potential split of Bill and Ted’s friendship in this cruel way sends out a massive shockwave into the universe that portends the apocalypse. Rufus (George Carlin) is a most righteous emissary from the future sent back in time to help make sure Bill and Ted pass their history presentation, for the benefit of the world.

With the assistance of Rufus’ time-traveling phone booth — a sweet nod to Doctor Who’s TARDIS — Bill and Ted go on a bodacious journey from San Dimas into history as they collect historical figures for their final presentation. From ancient Greece to the American wild west, Bill and Ted kidnap Socrates, Napoleon, Billy the Kid, Genghis Khan, Joan of Arc, and Beethoven, bringing them back to San Dimas as time runs out for their presentation.

But it isn’t just the Circle K where strange things are afoot in Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. While this absurd film holds up surprisingly well in HD, the remastered visuals don’t temper some of the problematic sexism and homophobia. Ted’s dad isn’t the only creepy dude in this story. Bill’s father (J. Patrick McNamara) has married Missy (Amy Stoch), a former classmate of Bill and Ted’s who is only three years older than them. Gnarly. And while the two princesses Joanna (Diane Franklin) and Elizabeth (Kimberley Kates) eventually get some agency by the sequel, in Excellent Adventure they are basically used as props and eventually given to Bill and Ted as gifts for completing their mission and saving the world. That’s a totally egregious violation of women’s rights, man.

It would also be a major bummer of an oversight if I don’t mention the most unfortunate homophobic language uttered by our heroes Bill and Ted after Ted’s death scare. For most of the movie, Bill and Ted appear to be performing non-toxic masculinity. They have emotional intimacy and their physical contact is regular and nurturing. When Bill thinks Ted’s dead (heh heh) he rightfully freaks out. When Ted isn’t dead they embrace as best friends who truly love and care about each other. And then they drop the other f-word right after. This is a reminder that even though Bill and Ted seem to be innocent and almost completely without guile, they are still enmeshed in the kind of toxic masculinity demonstrated by their dickhead dads. Bill and Ted can’t help but be products of their time, just as the historical figures they bring into the present can’t help but be products of theirs too.

These issues do inject a stain on Bill and Ted’s legacy that might make it difficult for some to revisit now. Part of me wishes they’d at least edit out the homophobic slur. I can spin it so it makes sense in context, but it’s quite simply unnecessary and would only improve the film’s longevity without it. Thankfully, there is some great representation in the first installment of Bill and Ted’s adventures to make up for these other lapses in writing. Bill and Ted’s history teacher Mr. Ryan (Bernie Casey) as well as the supreme of the Three Most Important Important People in the World (Clarence Clemons) are both Black men, and are not presented in any kind of stereotype or caricature, unlike just about everyone else in the film. This aspect was rather ahead of its time, and for it I’m grateful. Most righteous indeed.  

But let’s also not forget that Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure is absolutely absurd and still funny as hell. Reeves and Winters have remarkable chemistry together. In a world as dark as ours has become, seeing Bill and Ted with their beaming smiles and air guitar nonsense feels like rays of light and hope. Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure is a reminder all these years later that there is a time and place for absolute silliness. The news gets even more triumphant as Keanu Reeves and Alex Winters teamed up once again for a third installment of the franchise, Bill and Ted Face the Music, released in August 2020. Until then, be excellent to each other. And party on, dudes.

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Director Steve Beck (Ghost Ship), with writers Neal Marshall Stevens (Hellraiser: Deader) and Richard D’Ovidio (Hypnotic), put their own spin on William Castle’s 1960 film 13 Ghosts, but it didn’t do so hot at the box office back in October 2001. Thirteen Ghosts has gained a cult following of those who can appreciate the roster of titular spirits and high-quality production design. 

Thirteen Ghosts begins with wealthy ghost hunter Cyrus Kriticos (F. Murray Abraham) and psychic Dennis Rafkin (Matthew Lillard) seeking out a violent ghost in a junkyard. One of the first things we see is a semi-truck spraying blood around to lure the ghost out, sparking a massacre that seemingly kills Cyrus and many of his employees. 

Cyrus’s estranged nephew Arthur Kriticos (Tony Shalhoub), a financially unstable widower and single father, learns that his uncle died and left him an entire mansion. His two kids, Kathy (Shannon Elizabeth) and Bobby (Alec Roberts) are all about it. Along with their live-in nanny Maggie (Rah Digga), who they can somehow afford even though they’re already struggling to pay bills, the family head out to their new (maybe) home with Cyrus’ smarmy lawyer Ben Moss (J.R. Bourne). 

When they arrive at the completely glass Hellraiser-like puzzle house, Dennis weasels his way in disguised as an electrician. While the Kriticos gang roams around the mansion in awe, he finds Cyrus’ collection of captured spirits in the basement. Each one has its own glass cell inscribed with Latin containment spells to keep them trapped. But the clueless lawyer unknowingly activates the giant machine (aka the house), releasing them one by one.

Obviously, the best part about Thirteen Ghosts is the ghosts. But designing a glass mansion with exposed clock-like machinery that runs on gears and cogs warrants some serious praise for Sean Hargreaves (Thor: Ragnarok), too. It’s totally giving off lament configuration vibes. Watching Dennis and the Kriticos family have to make their way through this frustrating, impossible-to-navigate labyrinth while taking turns swapping spectral glasses and dodging wandering ghosts makes me think the ghosts must be just as confused by the layout. 

Kalina Oretzia (Embeth Davidtz), a ghost emancipator rather than catcher and former enemy of Cyrus, pops up out of nowhere to throw flares and give us a quick overview of the film’s mythology involving an ancient book, Hell, and the “Black Zodiac.”

The tortured souls of the Black Zodiac are the First Born Son (Mikhael Speidel), the Torso (Daniel Wesley), the Bound Woman (Laura Mennell), the Withered Lover (Kathryn Anderson), the Torn Prince (Craig Olejnik), the Angry Princess (Shawna Loyer), the Pilgrimess (Xantha Radley, the Great Child (C. Ernst Harth), the Dire Mother (Laurie Soper), the Hammer (Herbert Duncanson), the Jackal (Shayne Wyler), and the Juggernaut (John DeSantis).

But what about the thirteenth ghost? Well, it’s not revealed until later in the movie and I won’t spoil it for anyone who hasn’t seen it yet. 

The spirits’ origins range from a rich girl strangled on prom night to an African American blacksmith who met a tragic Candyman-like demise that left him with a hammer in place of a hand. Most of them died violent deaths making them vengeful spirits out to kill anyone they could. The Jackal is chaos personified, truly a beast. But anyone who watched Thirteen Ghosts when they were going through puberty likely paid extra attention to the Angry Princess, aka the completely naked ghost covered in self-inflicted slashes all over her body. 

Legendary industry pros Howard Berger (Werewolf by Night), Greg Nicotero (The Walking Dead), and Robert Kurtzman (The Haunting of Hill House) all worked behind the scenes to craft the prosthetic special effects, so it’s no surprise that the work is amazing. Like Mike Flanagan’s many masterful projects with tangible spectators, these ghosts were once people with their own backstories and personalities. Each character’s design itself tells a story, not so subtly showing the ways in which they died. Background details are glossed over in the actual movie but the Ghost Files bonus segment goes into each one. 

These fully-realized ghosts deserve their own miniseries (and I nominate Mike Flanagan to write/direct). The Bound Woman actually reminds me a lot of the Bent-Neck Lady from The Haunting of Hill House, which makes sense since Kurtzman worked on both projects. 

The scene-stealing Matthew Lillard has the most energy since Dennis is tasked with pleading with pessimistic nonbelievers to avoid putting everyone’s lives in danger. The other stand-out performances are Tony Shalhoub and F. Murray Abraham, although that might be because they’re given a lot more to work with than, say, Rah Digga. Her role as Maggie is reduced to the “hello no” nanny voice of reason, offering up a quippy “what the hell?” or “I don’t think so” at any moment. The film definitely lacks characterization and diversity. 

Thirteen Ghosts is no longer a guilty pleasure but a horror movie I unapologetically enjoy watching. Yes, it’s schlocky with a clunky narrative, terrible ADR, and nonsensical editing. But for the early aughts, it’s an inventive film with top talent creating mind-blowing effects and designs. And honestly, I can’t think of a movie with a more iconic set of special features. 

Thirteen Ghosts is available to rent on Prime Video (via an AMC+ subscription).

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The Jones family moves from Pontiac, Michigan to a big pink Victorian house, aka the Pink Palace Apartments, in somewhat rural Oregon. Coraline (Dakota Fanning) is an adventurous, supremely unhappy 11-year-old girl who clearly didn’t want to move. Her exhausted parents, Mel (Teri Hatcher) and Charlie (John Hodgman) write about gardening for a living.

They are overworked, grumpy, and dismissive, spending most of the film fretting over writing deadlines. (Just as we millennials started to identify more with Squidward than Spongebob, her stressed-out parents are sadly pretty relatable.) To Coraline, the only thing the adults are super busy with is being miserable and boring.

The old house is drab, made up of muted colors and cobwebs. Coraline stands out with her electric blue hair and wardrobe filled with bright oranges and yellows.

She is endlessly curious and painfully bored, but she’s actually surrounded by some interesting people. The downstairs neighbors are two aging former actresses, April Spink (Jennifer Saunders) and Miriam Forcible (Dawn French), with sing-songy voices and multiple living and deceased Scottish terriers. Upstairs is Mr. Bobinsky (Ian McShane), a former circus performer who trains jumping mice. None of them get her name right, but they give her cryptic warnings. 

While out exploring the grounds, she comes across a slinky black cat and meets its sort of owner, the landlord’s grandson Wyborne “Wybie” Lovat (Robert Bailey Jr.), the only one kid around. Coraline finds him both annoying and intriguing. Wybie isn’t a character from the book — he was created just for the film. He’s really only there so that she’s not talking to herself — and to give her a creepy doll with her likeness. 

After wandering around her new home, Coraline finds a small door that opens to a brick wall. But at night, it becomes a portal to a parallel universe where it’s always nighttime with glowing lights and warm and dreamy colors. Though she’s initially wary of the two much happier, button-eyed versions of her parents, she starts to enjoy herself once she sees that this world revolves around her.

Literal gravy trains, mango milkshakes on demand (ick), and even wackier versions of her eccentric neighbors keep Coraline consistently awed and entertained. The Other Mother made sure Other Wybie couldn’t talk, which is more than disturbing.

But Coraline is too distracted by the Other Mother’s love bombing to care that much. The Other Cat becomes her world-hopping companion, and here he can talk (in Keith David’s lovely and distinct voice).

Returning to the dull real world only intensifies Coraline’s already restless nature. However, each time she goes back through that door, the Other-verse seems off.  Then when she learns what’s required to stay there, she’s not down with it at all.

Things become even more surreal when the Other Mother doesn’t get what she wants, and all the fantastical “otherness” progressively crumbles, making the atmosphere less lively (almost like when Westview got all glitchy in WandaVision). Reality can be a bummer, but the fantasy world comes at a cost. 

The Other Mother’s terrifying true form, referred to as the Beldam, is a sharp and pointy spider-like creature desperately seeking the love of unhappy children. It taps into our childhood fear of some sinister force tricking us into thinking it’s our parent(s).

Maybe we grow out of that specific fear, but Coraline certainly reminds us of it. Gaiman told Entertainment Weekly in 2013, “I’m glad I wrote a book that has scary things in it and things that are worth being scared of and tells you that you should be brave, that you can persist, and you can triumph.”

Adding to the overall beauty of Coraline is knowing the massive amount of work that went into the painstakingly handcrafted sets, character designs, and stop-motion animation. The enchanting, melancholic music by Bruno Coulais (Wolfwalkers, Wendell & Wild) is somehow both soothing and creepy.

A children’s choir probably isn’t usually so unsettling. Coulais described the music in the beginning as “very quiet and realistic because it’s a realistic world.” But it’s quite different as the film goes on. “And little by little the music becomes quite scary by the end of the movie.”

Like any successful movie, there have been talks of a sequel for years. As much as I love Coraline, I don’t think it needs a sequel because the story has a satisfying ending. Sure, we’re left with some questions. But I don’t need the answers. 

Coraline is a weird and wonderful story, with stunning stop-motion visuals, and haunting music that really heightens the already eerie atmosphere. It’s more than a classic careful-what-you-wish-for tale. For kids, it’s the perfect gateway into the dark fantasy and horror genres. Henry Selick and Neil Gaiman are storytelling geniuses on their own. Together their styles combine to make one whimsical film. 

Coraline is available to stream on The Roku Channel and to rent on Prime Video.

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In 1968, George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead hit cinemas, the first of its kind and a piece of art that continues to affect the entire landscape of American film even now 50 years later.

Night of the Living Dead was so far ahead of its time, Hollywood is still trying to catch up. Romero cast a sympathetic Black male lead as the hero of the story — whose tragic end at the hands of a white vigilante mob resonates on so many levels, even now. Ben (Duane Jones) is strong, but also sensitive and vulnerable, and he’s not here to take any crap from anybody even though the entire rest of the cast is white. Back then (and even to some now) a Black man in this kind of role was an act of open rebellion and revolution. In Eli Roth’s History Of Horror, horror scholar Tananarive Due says, “I might contend that for some viewers that was as scary as the child eating her mom in the basement!” Romero forced white audiences, in particular, to identify with a Black man as an equal, not a slave or “the help”.

This movie was the first to overtly show how horror stories could be used to expose social and cultural commentary with an openly political message. In many ways, the medium of horror itself — one that transgresses social and cultural boundaries with wanton abandon—was the perfect vehicle for an allegory about the American civil rights movement as well as the gruesome war in Vietnam.

Over the years when asked about this casting decision, Romero insisted he cast Jones because he gave the best audition. But when we look at Romero’s follow-up Dawn of the Dead in 1978 and his open criticisms of consumer culture as reflected in the sequel, I wonder how honest he was about that.

Where Night of the Living Dead is shrouded in the shadows of black and white film, leaving so much to our imagination, Dawn of the Dead is quite the opposite. Like Dorothy opening the door from her humdrum Kansas life into the technicolor of Oz, Dawn of the Dead displays its zombies in the glaring light of day and mall fluorescents. The social commentary also ramps up from subtle to right in your face.

Dawn of the Dead opens in a low-income apartment complex, inhabited by mostly Black residents. The complex is under attack by police because of suspicion residents are hiding zombies in their midst. Which they are. They don’t want their family members killed. They don’t understand the threat, because nobody has properly explained it to them. And from this structural violence that ends in a barrage of gunfire, we move to a group of survivors held up in a shopping mall that is slowly overrun by zombies.

Romero’s scathing critique of mindless consumerism and how the Baby Boomer generation sold out all their values — is as brilliant as casting a Black hero in Night of the Living Dead. While the gore and shock value have exponentially increased in the 10 years since the first, so did the social commentary. Special effects legend Tom Savini got his start in Dawn of the Dead and used his skills as a combat photographer to create the first photorealistic zombie attack scenes ever put on film. A product of the Vietnam War that Romero slyly critiqued in Night of the Living Dead, Savini brought a new level of intensity to this social and cultural allegory about the end of American civilization as we know it in Dawn of the Dead. We no longer wonder what those zombies would look like in real life. Their grey skin, exposed wounds, and shark-like black eyes are on full display. The seemingly-innocuous backdrop of a shopping center serves as a stark contrast to the social breakdown evidenced in the zombie hordes going up and down the escalators as they would have in life.   

By 1985’s Day of the Dead, Romero’s apocalyptic trio reached an apex. Seven years later and the zombie wars have been waged. And lost. The remaining humans live in bunkers under a violent military rule as scientists still try to find a cure. Once again, Romero’s social commentary is on point. The monsters in this film are no longer the zombies, who are being tortured and experimented on. The villains of this story are the sadistic soldiers who clearly enjoy inflicting pain on anyone they can, not just zombies.

I first saw Night of the Living Dead when I was five or six. It wasn’t my first horror movie, but it was the first horror movie that wrapped social commentary into a scary story. And that notion sparked my imagination like nothing else. Even now when I write a scary story or horror novel, the first thing I consider is: What is the social justice message wrapped in this parable? What social issue(s) am I critiquing? And are there solutions I can offer the problem(s) within my story? I call it The Romero Test. When I’m watching movies and television — not just horror — I always apply this test. Stories that don’t have a strong and well executed social justice message won’t resonate with me. This is thanks to George Romero’s exceptional films.

It’s been 50 years since Night of the Living Dead. Since Dawn of the Dead another 40. Yet these movies feel as alive now as they were back then. Without these two seminal horror movies, we certainly would not have other zombie phenomenons like The Walking Dead and upcoming Overlord. We also wouldn’t have so many other non-zombie horror movies that specifically exist to examine social justice issues within the framework of monsters, terror, and societal upset, like Blade and Friday the 13th Part 7: The New Blood.

For half a century, George Romero deconstructed American society through zombie allegory. He put up a mirror to the ugliness that simmers under the surface of this nation, and he dared us to keep looking. He encouraged us to see the truth behind the fiction. The zombies of Night of the Living Dead reflected those times, just as their descendants in movies and television now reflect how much has changed — and those same pressure points of race, class, and politics that haven’t in all this time. Maybe in another 50 years, they finally will. 

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Countess (Lauren Hutton), a centuries old vampire, must drink from a male virgin three times before Halloween to retain her youthful looks. It’s only 10 days away, and she’s antsy. Her assistant/butler/chauffeur Sebastian (Cleavon Little) assures her everything will be alright. The Countess houses a group of younger vampires she’s turned over the centuries, and they’re tasked with hunting down a virgin. This proves difficult since there are apparently few virgins in 1980s Los Angeles. 

Mark Kendall (Jim Carrey) is a teenager desperately trying to have sex with his girlfriend, Robin Pierce (Karen Kopins). She’s not ready to do that just yet, much to his dismay. Mark complains about it to his equally horny best friends Jamie (Thomas Ballatore) and Russ (Skip Lackey), saying that he wishes he could lose his virginity to some random woman to relieve the pressure between him and Robin. His buddies encourage him to go with them to Hollywood to pick up women. 

In a montage set to the movie’s title song performed by 3 Speed, the guys drive around the shiny and glam city in Mark’s ice cream truck. Hollywood is made to look like a fantasy world with bright lights and bikini models on the sidewalk. It almost looks like Las Vegas. A blond woman dressed in a gold jumpsuit walks down the street with an actual lion.

The boys go to an interesting bar where there are phones on the tables to call other tables. Mark wants to leave, but after a while, the table gets a call from a beautiful woman at the bar asking for Mark. He nervously talks to her and tries (and fails) not to stare at her breasts. After a disgruntled husband pulls a gun out on his cheating wife, the bar patrons scatter. The Countess grabs Mark and convinces him to go home with her, not that he needed much convincing.   

Countess seduces a fumbling Mark and gets her first drink. He passes out and thinks they had sex, even though he remembers nothing. I’m still not sure why she wouldn’t just keep him there for the next 10 days to get her next two drinks in before the “deadline.” Probably because chasing him around LA is too much fun to pass up. 

Despite his boyish charm, Mark Kendall is actually a terrible boyfriend. The first time we see him, he pressures his longtime girlfriend to have sex when she’s not ready. Not to mention they’re in a crowded parking lot in the ice cream truck that he drives. He goes out to sleep with a stranger just to get it over with, and when Robin calls him out on it, it somehow becomes her fault. But don’t worry, she takes him back because it’s the ’80s and he’s just being a guy. He tells her, “I made a stupid mistake. I’m sorry. I’m a teenager. I’m supposed to make stupid mistakes. I wouldn’t try to hurt ya, you know that.” Plus, he was drunk, so all is forgiven. 

Mark goes through changes like suddenly being sensitive to sunlight and developing a taste for black clothes (among other things). Carrey as a vampire is something everyone should want to see. In an over-the-top ‘80s setting, he stands out even more, as does the Countess with her killer all-black wardrobe. She adds in pops of color like fuchsia lipstick. Her mansion is all black and white, marble, and filled with pure ’80s decor. I still love when she opens her coffin to reveal a pink satin interior. 

Sebastian was always my favorite, though. The opening of the film shows him sort of gliding around the house, straightening paintings and sculptures as he prepares and delivers the Countess’ breakfast. He serves her a glass of blood on a tray next to a single black rose. He sort of leans into Hollywood’s gay stereotype here and there, but he’s not made to be a flamboyant caricature. I appreciate his bitchy comments and constant disapproval of Mark. 

Once Bitten is Jim Carrey’s first leading role in a feature film. I try to imagine seeing this film before I knew Carrey’s other work. As a fan, I already know he’s hilarious. But if I were watching him for the first time, I think I’d be even more impressed. The movie’s dance scene is perfectly ridiculous and shows off Carrey’s affinity for physical comedy. I’d also like to point out that not a single person at this school looks like a teenager.

I was around five or six when I first saw Once Bitten. All the sex talk went over my head for the most part. I was just enamored with Jim Carrey, meaning this movie was likely shown to me because I’d seen all his other stuff (including In Living Color, which I was obsessed with). In a time when Disney on Ice was still a huge deal, I asked my mother, “Can we go see Jim Carrey on ice?” Sadly, that wasn’t a thing, but I’m sure he would’ve done it if asked. 

As a ‘90s kid, this movie embodied everything I thought the ‘80s were and more — neon signs, pastel colors, guitar riffs, unusual (and sometimes fabulous) fashion. With all the catchy songs, it feels like watching a music video. Good luck trying to get Maria Vidal’s “Just One Kiss” and “Hands Off” out of your head. 

Once Bitten is streaming on Amazon Prime Video and for free on YouTube.

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There are many firsts in Blade. He is the first Black movie superhero. Blade is the first film to include a website puzzle tie-in that deepened the story. It was also one of the first portrayals of the underground 90s American rave scene. That culture has since morphed into the festival circuits and EDM events that eventually took over what we once called “clubbing”. Nearly 30 years later, Blade is still singularly iconic.

The Backstory

Blade’s mother (Sanaa Lathan) was bitten by a vampire just before giving birth. The bite created a genetic anomaly in Blade. He has all the vampire’s strength but also a core humanity they lack as well as the ability to go out during the day. He uses his power to exterminate vampires, penance for the guilt he feels for being sort of one of them. Unfortunately, his dark gift comes with a terrible price: he cannot escape the vampire bloodlust and must take regular doses of a serum in order to keep those pangs at bay.

As a Black man, Blade began life marginalized. As a Black human-vampire hybrid, he is further on the margins of both human and vampire societies. His hybridity is powerful, but Blade has no place except on his own. His nemesis Deacon Frost (Stephen Dorff) is similarly on the fringes of vampire society. Having been bitten instead of born vampire, Frost is constantly looking to prove his worth to the Vampire Council led by Gitano Dragonetti (Udo Kier). Frost is also looking to crack the code of an ancient vampire bible with a ritual to bring about the human apocalypse and the rise of the reign of vampires.  

These old versus new world orders clash when Frost finally deciphers the La Magra ritual, while Blade also tries to help hematologist Karen Jensen (N’Bushe Wright) find a cure for the vampire disease. Continuing its biblical metaphor, Blade turns out to be the chosen one prophesied by the ancient text who will bring about the vampire takeover of the planet. Like a Black vampire Jesus, Blade’s blood is the key ingredient to unlock the power of the beast La Magra, whose next vessel will be Deacon Frost.

The Importance 

Blade was one of the first good examples of positive representation, and in particular Black inclusion. Seeing a sci-fi horror movie with such a stellar cast of color was a first for me in 1998, and in some ways it still comes as a surprise now 27 years later. The most recent UCLA Anenberg study found in 2017 that 70% of speaking roles in films were white actors. Even by today’s standards, Blade is an outlier for representation and diversity.

But the film doesn’t stop there with its allegory-heavy hybrid human-vampire daywalker. There are so many ways to interpret Blade’s struggle with his genetic makeup and broader identity. He is a man stuck between worlds. Frances Gateward interprets Blade as a critique on miscegenation in “Daywalkin’ Night Stalkin’ Bloodsuckas: Black Vampires in Contemporary Film”. She equates vampirism to whiteness (even though the vampires in the film are indeed diverse), and in particular because of Frost’s desire for world domination through genocide.

Blade and Me

As someone who is mixed race, Blade was one of the first on-screen appearances of a “mixie” like me. Being half white and half Sri Lankan (both Tamil and Sinhala), but raised all over Asia and Africa during my childhood, like Blade I also existed on the margins of the margins. I relate to his identity crises, and his struggle to come to terms with the totality of who he is. Monsters as metaphors have always resonated with me. Being a perpetual “Other” no matter where I go in the world, I couldn’t help but relate with on-screen outsiders like Blade searching for their role and their place.

By the end of this film, Blade comes to terms with himself and finds a kind of peace. He stops trying to force himself into one or the other group, and instead accepts both his faults and gifts for what they are. He stops letting his identity issues and guilt about who he is — in particular that side he considers monstrous and hateful— control his life. I can finally say that 27 years later, so have I. This is, in part, thanks to witnessing Blade’s personal social and cultural negotiations for all these years, from the first film and beyond. Decolonization is a process, and for some it takes longer than others.

Long Live the Legend of Blade

What’s most impressive about Blade though is how well it has held up over the years, and even under the sometimes-harsh glare of the high-definition TV. The blood rave is as creepy and thrilling as ever. The fight scenes a beautiful flurry of sound and martial arts. The high-speed chases and comic-book-esque camera tricks only look crisper. In so many ways Blade was made for today: for today’s politics, for today’s television screens, and for today’s marginalized audiences. We now have platforms to share our own experiences as Others and outsiders.

In over 20 more years, Blade will still be as socially and culturally relevant as it’s been all this time. Hopefully by then Hollywood will have had time to catch up with Blade‘s equitable representation and inclusion. 

You can stream Blade on Netflix.

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