Hello, my friends,

I just heard about this last week, and it came as a complete and total surprise.  Turns out that HORROR 101 has been nominated for "Best Book of 2008" by the Seventh Annual Rondo Hatton Classic Horror awards, "recognizing the best in monster research, creativity and genre appreciation."

http://www.rondoaward.com/

Um, holy crap.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: CONGRATULATIONS to everyone who contributed to HORROR 101, and THANK YOU to everyone who has supported us leading up to and beyond publication. Whether you contributed an essay, wrote an online or print review for the book or simply picked up a copy, this recognition belongs to you as much as anyone.  It's been an amazing ride and we couldn't have done it without all of you.

I 'd like to ask that that everyone reading this please spread the word and ask your friends to cast an online ballot for HORROR 101.  And don't forget to VOTE as well!  Takes five seconds, and  "the little horror book that could" might just turn out to be The Best Horror Book of the Year.  Wouldn't that be something? 

I say again, HOLY CRAP.  Who would have ever believed it?

Visit the link to the Rondo Awards by clicking **HERE** or go to http://www.rondoaward.com/ 

Thanks again, everyone!  I still can't quite wrap my head around it, but the warm fuzzies just keep on coming.

toodle-pip,

AC and the H101 gang

**PRAISE FOR HORROR 101**

Bringing a refreshingly egalitarian approach to the subject, Horror 101 collects musings on our favorite chillers not by the expected assortment of critics and filmmakers, but the audience... the fans themselves. Young and old, male and female, located all over the globe.  From Alien through The Wicker Man, each entry brings a breath of fresh air to the consideration of seminal movies many of us thought had been analyzed to death. As editor Aaron Christensen puts it, "Keep America strong! Watch more monster movies!

-- Joe Dante, director, The Howling, Piranha, Gremlins

As the title implies, Horror 101 is something of a textbook written for horror students by horror students.  Edited and complied by Dr. AC (Aaron Christensen), this collection of essays provides in-depth readings on some of the most important, influential and just plain great movies that have shaped the fright genre.  To an aficionado, this journey outside the industry and into non-pro reactions can bring back fond memories; for the newbie, this is a meticulous introductory course to cinematic works all fear buffs should know.

--Rebekah McKendry, Fangoria

…just the right gift for the budding horror fan in your life.  The must-sees are sufficiently covered here, from the silents (The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, Nosferatu, The Phantom of the Opera) and early Universal creature features (Frankenstein and friends) through '50s American sci-fi (Them!) and Hitchcock to latter-day classics from the '70s and early '80s (Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Halloween and sundry slashers).   The love and respect these folks have for the genre is beyond question.  All this, and an intro by Tom Savini – what's not to like?

--John W. Bowen, Rue Morgue

A master stroke...something absolutely different and essential.  If you find yourself feeling negative about the horror genre, you need to take a look at this book.

--Nick Digilio, News/Talk 720 WGNRadio Chicago

These are not just fanboys that like their gore and monsters; rather they are passionate folks who give great insight to all things horror and the macabre.

--Tiffany Shepis, scream queen, Tromeo & Juliet, The Hazing, Nightmare Man

Horror 101 is a fine collection of criticism, something different.  It is not a book of polished prose and penetrating, detailed analysis. Instead, it is a book of enthusiasm. It reminds us why we love horror movies...

-- Michael W. Mayo, author, VideoHound's Horror Show

Horror 101 is the primer every sci-fi and horror student needs for a compelling and intellectual glimpse into the classroom of genre movies. After digesting this, you will never again get an "F" -- unless it stands for "Film-lover."

-- John Stanley, author, Creature Features and I Was a TV Horror Host

A great read for both veterans and those new to the horror genre…Highly recommended!!

--Aaron Crowell, HorrorHound Magazine

A brilliant collection… Passionate fans like these don't come around too often.  Do you remember [the] fun you had remembering the time you first watched your favorite horror film? These people do.

--Tony DeFrancisco, Fatally-Yours.com

I LOVE this book!! Aaron Christensen has assembled an eclectic group to write about a specific fright film that affected them and, believe me, these aren't your daddy's essays! Filled with quotes, overviews of the plots, facts about the films (inspiration, trivia, initial reactions, etc.) as well as the writers' own opinions, these are not the typical dry, dense scholarly writings that most readers cannot begin to make sense of.  This is a FUN book, written by people who truly love the horror genre and want to share their favorite screen screams with everyone else.  Fascinating reading, this book should be on every horror fan's required reading list.

-- Elaine Lamkin, bloody-disgusting.com

Rambunctiously heartfelt…78 terror lovers from 12 different countries passionately give witness to their favorite celluloid horrors.  From the original 1932 The Mummy to The Blair Witch Project, every style of the genre is nicely explored here. Every horror fan can identify with each writer's emotional connection to not only the profiled film, but to the horror genre itself. This is the book one can hand to a dubious relative or friend to explain the wide appeal and cultural validity of everything heartstopping and grue-strewn. It is, also, just plain fun!

--Brian Kirst, Horror Society.com

Written by horror film fans of all ages, from all walks of life, from all over the world, Horror 101 immediately sets up a fun atmosphere that would be lacking had it been written by genre critics.  Many set the stage, sharing the circumstances under which they first viewed the film, which is as important as the actual movie itself.  While many long time fans will have seen about 90% of the titles included, it is still a recommended read, if only for the communal spirit it creates in the sharing of stories from one fan to another.

--Robert Freese, author, Bijou of the Dead

An extremely fun and informative read from cover to cover.  If you don't know these 101 movies, you should, and Dr. AC and his worldwide [team of] contributors break them down with great efficiency and insight.  An excellent reference book for all horror film lovers and novices alike!

--Mike & Rowdy J., The Horror Debate.com

Where's the new generation of horror fans coming from? Well, from these guys, and it seems we're in good hands. They're passionate and opinionated (and mostly right!), and they treat classic horror with the respect it deserves.

-- Bruce Lanier Wright, author, Yesterday's Tomorrows and Nightwalkers

…a lesson in Horror and Monster Movie history [and] a great addition to any true fright fan's book collection.  From popular to obscure, slasher to monster, there's plenty of information for the veteran film fan as well as someone new to the genre.

--Jeff Hartz, Dark Realms Magazine

A masterpiece of fan literature and an indispensable review companion for some of the most treasured, and loathed, works of horror cinema.

--Uncle Bill, DeadPit.com

There is something here for everyone: German Expressionism (Cabinet of Dr. Caligari), Serial Killers (Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer), Edgar Allan Poe tales (The Black Cat), Rape/Revenge (Last House on the Left) Amicus (Asylum), Mario Bava (Black Sunday, Blood on Black Lace), Cannibals (Cannibal Holocaust), Dario Argento (Deep Red, Suspiria), and Asian Horror (Onibaba, Ringu).  The usual classics are included [and] kudos for inclusion of some lesser-known horror greats.  Horror 101 works as a great primer for the uninitiated of horror and also works well for Creature Feature lovers wanting to check out Slasher classics and vice versa.

--Molly Celaschi, Horror Yearbook.com

***1/2!  For the fans by the fans…a virtual A-Z as far as must-see horror films go. An interesting look at [these] films by people who enjoy movies first and writing about them second.   If you are looking for a book to give to that newbie horror fan always asking you what they should watch, or even if you want to have a nostalgic trip down memory lane with some great horror films, this book is perfect.

--Ed Demko, Bloodtype Online.com

A great book and reference guide for essential genre classics…interesting and engaging, a very addicting read.  The book is subtitled Volume 1, and I hope that there are others to follow.

--Alex DiVincenzo, Horror-101.com

Well, we've finally come to the end of the month.  Thank you all so much for taking the ride with us and if you liked what you've read thus far, please drop me a line here on MySpace and let's see about getting you your own copy of HORROR 101, and at the "friend rate" to boot.  Happy Halloween!

As I've said countless times, I knew that including this "fantasy" film was probably the riskiest choice I made in assembling the "A-List".  But you have to understand, 7^th Voyage was in all of my horror reference books growing up, it sports some of the most memorable creations ever to grace the silver screen, and to my mind, it represents Harryhausen's finest hour.  If I can introduce one person to the joys of Uncle Ray's special brand of magic, then it's worth all the disapproving looks of the "experts" who know better.  In a day and age where the giant monsters seem to be having a harder and harder time finding a home, there will always be room for the Roc, the Cyclops and the dragon at Dr. AC's.

THE 7TH VOYAGE OF SINBAD (1958)



..:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

by Eric Fraisher Hayes

(originally published in HORROR 101: The A-List of Horror Films and Monster Movies, Vol. 1, Midnight Marquee Press, Inc., 2007)

(spoilers to follow – read at your own risk)

"He is determined to gain possession of the magic lamp. His life is distorted with this single driving wish."

Seven minutes into 1958's The 7^th Voyage of Sinbad, a thirty-foot tall Cyclops dominates the screen. And in that instant, a new age dawned. Yes, there had been previous colossal creatures, but when this mythological vision emerged from the sorcerer's cave, giant monsters joined the world of wide-screen Technicolor spectacles. The 1950s were an era of looking toward the future and with this picture, monster movies announced that they too would be a part of it.

Producer Charles H. Schneer (It Came from Beneath the Sea [1955], 20 Million Miles to Earth [1957]) traveled the studio circuit armed with a series of Ray Harryhausen's sketches based on the Arabian Nights.  Eventually, Columbia Pictures agreed to the project with the condition that the movie be made in color. Harryhausen had never attempted to bring his stop-motion talents to a color picture. Although initially hesitant, Harryhausen went to work trying to find a way to make the transition. After a year of tests, he adapted his stop-motion animation process (dubbed "Dynamation"), to the world of Technicolor.

The picture opens with Sinbad and his men lost at sea, desperately looking for dry land where they can find food and fresh water. Through a blinding night fog, Sinbad spies an island. With his apparent bionic night vision, matinee idol hair and clean-shaven square jaw, it is immediately established that Sinbad is this movie's Captain Kirk; able to do what no other man can do and look good doing it. The next morning, Sinbad and his crew row ashore and discover an unusual looking cave.  But before they have a chance to investigate, Sokurah the magician emerges from its mouth, clutching a magic lamp as he flees from a giant Cyclops. While Sinbad and his men battle with the monster, Sokurah summons the genie of the lamp to effect an escape. The Cyclops is temporarily subdued, but during the escape, the magician loses his grasp of the lamp. As the men reach the ship, they look back to see Cyclops fishing the lamp out of the sea.

Back in Bagdad, Sokurah repeatedly appeals to the Caliph for a ship to return to Colossa to retrieve his magic lamp. His pleas fall on deaf ears as all prepare for the pending marriage of Sinbad and Princess Parisa. But the night before the wedding, the princess has mysteriously shrunk to the size of a Pez dispenser. When Sinbad rushes to her bedside, he realizes his wedding night plans have changed…drastically. The magician says he can restore the princess to her original size with the help of a piece of eggshell from a gigantic two-headed bird known as the Roc. Of course, the only place the Roc can be found is…drum roll please…the island of Colossa. With little choice left, Sinbad agrees to round up a crew.

Upon landing on Colossa, Sokurah tells Sinbad they must split into two groups in their search for the Roc's nest. (The magician's group possesses accents so unique they would make Mel Blanc blush.) Sinbad's group is soon captured by the Cyclops, who ties one of them to a spit and starts roasting him alive. The tiny princess, traveling with Sinbad, helps them escape from their cage while the magician finds the lamp in the Cyclops' treasure trove. Though the Cyclops manages to kill a few of the men, Sinbad eventually blinds the beast with a torch and drives it over the edge of a cliff.

During a moment of calm, the princess enters the lamp to visit the genie, who introduces himself as Barroni. She befriends the boyish genie, and learns that he would do anything to be free of the lamp and live the life of a cabin boy, sailing the seas with the likes of Sinbad.

On the top of the valley, an enormous egg is found and two of the hungry men crack the egg to get at its contents. A giant two-headed marshmallow Peep emerges and is quickly killed by the men.  Their ensuing feast is interrupted by the appearance of a full-grown Roc from above. Karmically fitting, the two men are killed by the giant bird, while Sinbad (clutching the lamp) is carried off and dropped unconscious into the creature's nest. The magician finds the princess and takes her hostage.

Sinbad comes to and, bringing along a handy piece of eggshell, follows Sokurah to his cave (which comes complete with a fire-breathing dragon guarding the entrance). At swordpoint, the magician returns the princess to normal size.  But when Sinbad refuses to hand over the lamp, Sokurah brings a skeleton to life and orders it to kill Sinbad. After a riveting sword fight that ranks as one of cinema's greatest action sequences, Sinbad defeats the skeleton. Making their escape, our heroes summon the genie one last time for help, then set him free by casting the lamp into a river of lava.  As they head for the entrance, another Cyclops appears, blocking their way. The dragon breaks free of his chains, battles the Cyclops and kills it. Sokurah then directs the dragon to pursue Sinbad. On the beach, the dragon is shot with a giant crossbow and falls on the magician, killing him.

Safely sailing away from Colossa, Sinbad is surprised to find he has a new cabin boy named Barroni. As a welcome gift, Barroni has filled Sinbad's cabin with the treasure of the Cyclops. All sail into the sunset.

Under the direction of Nathan Juran (20 Million Miles to Earth, Attack of the 50 Foot Woman [1958] and The Deadly Mantis [1957]) and stirringly scored by Bernard Herrmann, The 7^th Voyage of Sinbad spins an enchanting tale. Kerwin Mathews in the title role is about as Anglo-Saxon as can be, but proves surprisingly adept at acting opposite invisible partners. Three quarters of Mathews' screen time is shared either with giant monsters or his tiny princess, all of which were added in post-production. Kathryn Grant, the soon-to-be Mrs. Bing Crosby and future mother of a gaggle of Minute Maid-lovin' little Crosbys, is radiantly, if not terminally, optimistic regardless of her stature. Torin Thatcher with his heavy accent and intense stare finds a near perfect balance between menace and good-natured geniality. His Sokurah seems to be constantly inviting you to dinner, withholding the news that you are on the menu. Richard Eyer as the Genie receives prominent billing, which often confused me. Was he the kid that Jerry Mathers beat out for the role of the Beave or something? Doing a little research, I found that Eyer had an extensive television career during the 1950s and also played the title role in the 1957 film The Invisible Boy, the sequel to Forbidden Planet (1956). Eyer retired from his child star film/TV career in the 1960s. He is currently a 3^rd grade teacher in Bishop, CA.

Made for less than a million dollars, The 7^th Voyage of Sinbad grossed over six million dollars in its initial release, a great success for Harryhausen and Schneer. In the years that followed, this team created a series of epic pictures that included The Three Worlds of Gulliver (1960), Mysterious Island (1961) and Jason and the Argonauts (1963). All told, Ray Harryhausen and Charles H. Schneer made 12 films together, including two more Sinbad installments, The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1974) and Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (1977).

Although I have only recognized it recently, the importance of this film to me personally can not be underestimated. For years, I have been doing "dinosaur" impersonations. I even have listed it under the "special skills" section of my acting resumé, and from time to time, I have been asked to give a demonstration at auditions. During the process of digging into this film, I realized that I had in fact been attempting to channel the Cyclops from 7^th Voyage all these years. All of the elements—the way I shift my weight back on my haunches, thrust of my chest forward, rear back my arms and slide my glance from side-to-side in an attempt to capture a sense of the strange and the menacing—are directly from the 7^th minute of The 7^th Voyage of Sinbad.

Ultimately, the film's true stars are Ray Harryhausen and Bernard Herrmann. As fantastic as the animation is, it constitutes less than a quarter of the picture. Herrmann's stirring musical score carries the rest. Every twist and turn of the story is propelled by his strings and winds, another great turn in a phenomenal career. 

However, Harryhausen's animated creations are unforgettably vivid and every frame of film for which they appear reflects the subtle humanity of their creator's hand. Harryhausen's work on this film had a profound impact on the shape of cinema. The 7^th Voyage of Sinbad took the team of Schneer and Harryhausen from science fiction B-movies to the world of the blockbusters and, more importantly, inspired a generation of animators who have gone on to bring us the CGI spectacles of today.

As was the case with several of the essays in H101, the person who was originally assigned the ANOES essay asked for deadline after deadline…then dropped out.  Luckily, I had just met Mr. Gillott on the IMDb Horror Boards and asked if he would be willing to pick up the slack.  He wrote the following essay over the weekend.  Needless to say, I was floored and we've since become great friends.  Bringing the world together, one horror film at a time…

A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET (1984)



..:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

by A.D. Gillott

"What the hell are dreams anyway?"  "Mysteries, incredible body hocus-pocus.  The truth is, we still don't know what they are or where they come from."

"One, two, Freddy's coming for you…"

In 1981, writer/director Wes Craven could have no idea that the script he had just completed, entitled A Nightmare on Elm Street (henceforth ANOES), would be such a phenomenal commercial success; a milestone horror movie that would define the decade, launch his career into the stratosphere (Craven had previously been associated only with low-budget horror such as 1972's Last House on the Left and 1977's The Hills Have Eyes) as well as kick off the acting careers of Heather Langenkamp and a then-unknown Johnny Depp.  It would also lead to the creation of a globally recognized horror icon in the story's loathsome villain—Freddy Krueger—whose enduring appeal as a character has sustained six direct sequels to Craven's initial picture (seven including 2003's Freddy vs. Jason), spawned a short-lived television spin-off in the form of Freddy's Nightmares and whose image, to this day, can be found on a plethora of merchandise, everything from t-shirts and tattoos to comic books and videogames.  Anybody and everybody knows Freddy…

…Or do they?  Therein lies one of the problems that newcomers to ANOES face, something to do with popularity and the old adage that "familiarity breeds contempt."  Today, Freddy is an instantly recognizable name and image, whether you've actually seen any of the Nightmare series or not.  Even children know him from the media, from MTV videos they've seen and the Halloween costumes they've probably worn, though they're far too young to have ever watched one of the movies.  Time passes, the children grow up, and that's what Freddy is to them—a costume, a toy, a brand—he's not the boogeyman, he's fun old Uncle Freddy. 

When these children at some point watch one (or all) of the Nightmare films, in some ways that image is solidified.  As the series continued, and Freddy's popularity skyrocketed, he inevitably became the star, the single component that was consistent throughout the series while the majority of the casts served only as disposable prey.  Freddy became more visible, both physically (no longer a hideously burned creature swathed in shadows) and figuratively (in that the sequels have expanded on the original storyline to explain every detail about him). He no longer retains any of his mystique.  By the sixth installment, Freddy's Dead (1991), he's all but indistinguishable from the creature in ANOES; instead he has become a quipping funnyman with an extravagant, comic way of dispatching his successive victims.  In essence, the monster that is Freddy has been diluted, weakened.  There's an element of practicality in this—as "Freddy" himself, Robert Englund, once noted: "If we had tried to top the primal horrors and gore in part one, we would have hit a ceiling very early on…There is not much more we could have done unless we had Freddy…go around decapitating babies; instead he turns you into a giant cockroach. There is a sense of humor which is almost Kafkaesque in the Nightmare films."

Whether you're a Nightmare virgin or a confirmed fan, to fully appreciate this film we've got to mentally go back in time.  Forget the sequels, the merchandise—they're gone.  Now we're back on Craven's territory.  Eyes drooping, sun setting, it's time to sleep.  Let the nightmare begin afresh…

When the film was released in 1984, ANOES was something new and original.  The concept is very astute; as Robert Shaye, producer of the movie and founder of the then fledgling New Line Cinema, said: "It was an original idea, dying in your dreams meant really dying.  And four kids all had the same monster come to them while they slept…Here was the perfect common denominator.  We all have to sleep." This takes the mechanics of an otherwise normal "slasher" picture and elevates it to something more psychologically disturbing.  The killer is no longer a mere physical being; he has the ability to attack his prey mentally and at the point when they are at their most vulnerable.  Nightmares, like dreams, have an elastic reality and Craven exploits this to great effect, such as when the wall, seemingly rubberized, indents behind Nancy as she sleeps and a hovering Krueger can be seen in its shape, ready to pounce.  Or the way Freddy can impossibly stretch his arms, or appear both behind and in front of you within seconds.  Just as there's no escape in the dreams, there's also no escape from the dreams, and this is the ultimate setting—it's not a haunted house or a patch of woods, places we can avoid and run from in reality; it's in our cozy beds in our quiet suburban homestead, or the sly nap at work or school—the killer is inescapable. 

For a film to blur the boundaries of reality and fantasy was not, at the time, an overused concept, and Craven's execution of this is extremely subtle—it takes but a single flutter of a character's eyelids and that's it, they're in Freddy's domain.  It's not always noticeable at first to the audience, which is intentional, putting us in the shoes of the dreamer, who doesn't yet know that he/she has finally succumbed to sleep.  Slowly, the revelation comes, surreal moments and the elements that are identifiably nightmarish allow the tension to build as we, along with the character, know that the beast is somewhere, waiting, ready to psychologically torture us before striking with his wicked blades.  And Craven doesn't skimp on the gore, though it never reaches laughable excess.  In the bloodbath of Tina's infamous demise and "ceiling crawl," for example, the lurid neon blue lighting of the scene and the black splashes of blood are very reminiscent of some of the Italian giallos—gripping, haunting, instantly memorable.

Then there's Freddy himself.  He's not loquacious here, though sometimes he displays a black, cruel wit.  Aside from an explanation that he was a child-murderer and that he met justice at the hands of the children's parents, there's no real history to Krueger. At best, Craven intimates that a more raw, cosmic evil may reside in this entity (a theme that he develops more thoroughly in Wes Craven's New Nightmare [1994]) through the speech delivered by Nancy's high school English teacher as Nancy fights to stay awake: "What is seen is not always real…According to Shakespeare there was something operating in nature, perhaps inside human nature itself that was rotten—a 'canker' as he put it…" 

Revisit the opening scene of the film.  Seeing the loving way Fred constructs and tenderly caresses his glove, the blades becoming an extension of himself, points to the sadism of the character, his ecstasy in causing the pain and deaths of others.  And these "others" are society's most innocent and fragile—children.  Furthermore, this hints at something else—that Krueger was a pedophile.  Explicitly, the film states only that he was a child killer, but the fact that he takes such sensual pleasure in his killings implies more.  In fact, Englund recalls: "Wes wrote the most evil, corrupt thing he could think of. Originally, that meant Freddy was a child molester."  This was changed, Englund goes on to state, because at the time of filming a child molestation scandal broke-out and Craven did not want to be accused of exploiting a terrible situation.

On the subject of Englund, his contribution into the creation of Freddy cannot be understated, as much of what makes Freddy so menacing in this film is given through Englund's jaunty, swaggering performance.  The character in the initial Nightmare is a virtually unknown predator, so Englund's decision to put so much into sheer body language was a masterstroke as it also separated his character from other stalkers that populated slasher films of the day.  "The stance was just trying to be as far away from any kind of monster or Frankenstein walk; I decided to put in a bit of cockiness, sexuality, and threat." The glove too, being such a unique weapon, was used to good effect; Craven often announces its presence long before it is made visible through a series of teeth-setting, metallic scratching sounds.  Englund took the initiative and "played" the glove, taking inspiration from Klaus Kinski's performance in Werner Herzog's Nosferatu (1979): "He had very long fingernails, and that is where I got the idea how to act with the glove and the long blades on it."

In all, these elements—the hideous killer, the concept so ripe for a fertile imagination to pick-up and run with, and the psychological nature of the horror—are what make the movie formidable.  Even today it still retains that initial, primal power to get under the skin and into the mind.  The sequels may have diluted the idea, but when given the due respect and consideration it warrants, A Nightmare on Elm Street remains a unique and frightening experience, well deserving of its accolades, its popularity and its status as a true horror classic.

Wow, even with 31 days at our disposal, we're quickly running out of time and space (Heck, there are 70 more essays waiting in the wings).  Still, it would have been an awful shame to have not gotten some Hammer time in.  Sven's essay was extensively trimmed in the final edit for H101, so I am very happy to show it here in its uncut form for the first time in public.  Enjoy!

THE CURSE OF FRANKENSTEIN (1957)



..:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

by Sven Soetemans

(originally published in HORROR 101: The A-List of Horror Films and Monster Movies, Vol. 1, Midnight Marquee Press, Inc., 2007)

(spoilers to follow – read at your own risk)

"Keep your spiritual comfort for those who think they need it..."

Although perhaps not Hammer's finest production, The Curse of Frankenstein is the one film (along with their 1958 follow-up, Horror of Dracula) that single-handedly regenerated the European horror-boom in the second half of the 1950s. Approximately two decades after the heyday of the immensely popular Universal monster movies, Hammer Films gained their first success in the sci-fi/horror arena with 1955's The Quatermass Experiment, a big-screen adaptation of Nigel Kneale's TV sensation.  The popular and critical success of Quatermass, and its follow-up, Quatermass 2 (aka Enemy from Space) the following year, indicated to Hammer studio heads that there was clearly an insatiable audience hungering for morbid tales and horrific effects.  In an effort to capitalize on this demand, they eventually hit upon the notion of updating Universal's famous franchises, only this time in color.  They began with Frankenstein in 1957, with Dracula and The Mummy immediately following in the next few years.

Working from a script by Jimmy Sangster and directed by Terence Fisher (both of whom would produce numerous memorable horror/thriller offerings for Hammer), The Curse of Frankenstein revives the basic premise of Mary Shelley's classic story while adding numerous horrific aspects that would become trademarks of the great Hammer production company.  For example, the scenes in Frankenstein's lab featured blood and gore the likes of which had not been seen before, all in full Eastmancolor glory. In addition, the creature's make-up (designed by Phil Leakey) is truly monstrous for the first time.  (Admittedly, this is also due to the fact that Jack Pierce's original monster design, worn by the legendary Boris Karloff, was copyright protected and not allowed to be imitated.) 

Hammer's implementation of these and other minor modifications clearly indicated that their interpretation of the genre was to be much more brutal and spectacular.  Pushing the boundaries of onscreen flesh and blood, they appealed to a new generation of fans. Suffice to say, the success was immense and sequels to both the Frankenstein and Dracula franchise were quickly released as well as other new, original horror tales. For nearly twenty years, Hammer set the tone of pretty much everything that concerned horror in Europe.

The Curse of Frankenstein stars Peter Cushing as the obsessive and dangerously devoted Baron/scientist, a role he would reprise several times (five, to be exact).  Today, more than a decade after his death, Cushing is still revered as an legendary icon of the horror genre, and much of it is due to his indelible stamp as the obsessed Victor Frankenstein.

Here, the morality-lesson that "nobody is entitled to play God and create life himself" is not excessively obtruded as in the majority of other Frankenstein adaptations.  The film opens with images of the degraded Baron sitting in a filthy prison cell, clarifying his life-story to a priest.  Orphaned at a young age, the wealthy and intellectually gifted Victor Frankenstein works, together with his mentor Dr. Paul Krempe (Robert Urquhart), in the field of re-animating dead tissue and brain activity. After the two reach a medical breakthrough, Frankenstein wants to take his experiments to a higher level and create entirely new life by assembling various body parts of deceased persons. Since not every part of his ideal creation is easily available (like, for example, an intelligent brain), Frankenstein turns to murder.

When Victor commits his first murder, exclusively to procure the brain of his former professor, everything changes. Without realizing it, he descends into madness, no longer able to see the difference between science and moral corruption.  Driven by blind obsession, Victor alienates Paul and neglects his loving fiancée Elizabeth (Hazel Court).  In a desperate attempt to stop his former friend, Paul damages the brain Victor is prepared to place into the skull of his creation.  However, Victor continues his experiments undeterred, and the creature he eventually brings to life is an aggressive, hideous-looking monster that doesn't hesitate to attack its creator.  Eventually, the monster escapes and assaults an elderly blind man, forcing Paul and Victor to destroy the ungodly creature forever…or so Paul thinks.

When Paul returns to Frankenstein's castle several weeks later to attend Victor and Elizabeth's wedding, the Baron proudly informs him that he has resurrected the monster, which now even obeys simple commands. Inevitably, however, the murderous creation escapes again and this time, the consequences are not as easily dismissed.  Frankenstein ends up battling it out with the monster on the rooftop, eventually setting it ablaze with an oil lamp.  The creature then falls into a vat of acid, destroyed without a trace.  Of course, with the monster gone, Frankenstein is left to explain the murders, a task made impossible when Paul and Elizabeth refuse to corroborate his story.  Back in the prison, the priest cannot offer Victor any salvation, and the movie ends with the once-prominent heir of the Frankenstein fortune walking towards the guillotine.

But he wouldn't be gone long, as Curse was an enormous hit and the good people of Hammer Studios were clever enough to "build upon" (I don't like to use the word "exploit") the success of their very first genuine horror protagonist. In The Revenge of Frankenstein (1958), we witness how the cunning Baron escapes the horror of the guillotine, hence getting away with his past crimes against humanity. Staring death straight in the eyes hasn't altered his macabre ambitions, however, as he promptly emigrates to Germany, changes his identity and continues his ghastly experiments. Even moreso than before, you don't know whether to have sympathy for Victor…or to despise him.

The Baron returned again in 1964 (with Freddie Francis directing) for The Evil of Frankenstein.  Despite being allowed to copy Universal's monster makeup design for the first time, this is generally considered one of the weaker installments.  It wasn't until 1967 and the return of Terence Fisher that Hammer brought some real variation to the proceedings with the grotesque yet very entertaining Frankenstein Created Woman, a chapter that could be interpreted as Hammer's take on Bride of Frankenstein. The most intriguing aspect remains seeing Cushing's character and performance develop over the series. His overly sophisticated way of talking, along with his "I'm better than you and I know it" attitude are a joy to observe whilst his scientific ideas only get more deranged.

In my humble opinion, the absolute best entry in Hammer's Frankenstein saga arrived with 1969's Frankenstein Must Be Destroyed. It's wonderful to see how, after four movies revolving around the character and multiple other Euro-exploitation interpretations, Hammer still managed to present an original and innovative horror adventure. Even more praiseworthy is how the initial horror is shifted from the monster to the Baron himself! In this film, the creature is a pathetic "victim" while it's Cushing who's the criminal mastermind.

The franchise got interrupted in 1970, with Jimmy Sangster writing-producing-directing a Cushing-free prequel of sorts, The Horror of Frankenstein. Hammer regular Ralph Bates (Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde, Lust for a Vampire) was surely an adequate actor, but he's no Saint Peter.

Frankenstein and the Monster from Hell (1974), the final entry in the cycle, isn't the best accomplishment, although it still makes for an appealing chapter for horror enthusiasts due to the excessive blood and ugly make-up effects.  Atmospherically set in a mental asylum, the film features some really nasty killings and extremely graphic medical experiments (gratuitous brain-transplant, anyone?) The picture also marked Fisher's last directing achievement. He died in 1980, following a heart attack.

I initially stated that Curse isn't Hammer's finest film. Some of their later horrors, notably Quatermass and the Pit (1967), The Devil Rides Out (1968) and even some of the aforementioned Frankenstein sequels look more appealing, more properly orchestrated. The reasons for this, however, are primarily fiduciary.  The budget for Curse of Frankenstein was quite low (a mere £65,000), resulting in occasionally tacky special effects by today's standards, with a notable lack of diversity in scenery. The movie's action takes place largely in one location—the Baron's laboratory—simply because there was no money for other sets! The limited budget is also noticeable in the absence of a vast Gothic atmosphere (despite production designer wunderkind Bernard Robinson's best efforts) and the modest use of color-shades.

However, The Curse of Frankenstein remains a milestone in the genre, with some great suspense and a truly powerful acting performance by Peter Cushing.  Additionally, the film is significant for an entirely different reason, as it represents the first of many onscreen collaborations between Cushing and Christopher Lee! (The two had actually both appeared in Laurence Olivier's Hamlet [1948] and John Huston's Moulin Rouge [1952], though not in the same scenes.)  The duo would eventually turn out 19 features together. As the monster, Lee's share in this production is very brief but oh-so-memorable, and Leakey's make-up effects still look nightmarish nearly half a century later.  Real fans of the genre freely acknowledge that Curse of Frankenstein is a genuine classic that set the Hammer standard for many years and wonders to come.

This one had me from the opening montage of John Doe's notebooks (although we wouldn't know that's what we were looking at until much later) right up to the immortal lines, "Somebody call somebody…" followed by the backwards scrolling end credits.  Messed.  Me.  Up.  From the director of Alien3, you say?  Hunh.

SE7EN  (1995)



..:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

by Michelle Trudel

(originally published in HORROR 101: The A-List of Horror Films and Monster Movies, Vol. 1, Midnight Marquee Press, Inc., 2007)

(spoilers to follow – read at your own risk)

"Wanting people to listen, you can't just tap them on the shoulder anymore. You have to hit them with a sledgehammer."

Stop and think for a moment—can you name the "Seven Deadly Sins"?  I couldn't, and I was raised Catholic.  Obviously, my parents were not all that concerned with the guilt/punishment aspects of that religion—not so for "John Doe's" mommy and daddy, but we'll get to that.

David Fincher's dark and disturbing Se7en is the story of a maniac on a mission, and the two seemingly mismatched detectives who are always one step behind and have no idea what they've gotten themselves into—until it's too late.  But one of the first characters we meet is the city in which the story unfolds—a dark, rainy, decaying urban landscape that sets a grim tone from the outset.  It is wet, cold, violent, ugly.  And the rain, always the rain—disorienting in a way—you can't always see where you are…  Interestingly, the location goes unnamed throughout; we could be in any inner city in America. 

Veteran homicide detective Lt. William Somerset (Morgan Freeman) is burned out and on the verge of retirement.  He uses the rhythm of a metronome to quiet his brain before sleep because he's simply seen too much, is perhaps too human to do battle with the demons of the city any longer.  We get clued-in to his inherent decency early on when his chief concern at a murder scene is "Did the kid see it?"  Detective David Mills (Brad Pitt), Somerset's cocky, ambitious, somewhat homophobic and inexperienced replacement shows up and before long, the two are in the thick of a serial killer's ingeniously constructed, frighteningly methodical lesson plan. 

A sadistic murderer calling himself John Doe sets out to "teach" a sinful society a lesson.  Using the Seven Deadly Sins as his guide, he tortures and murders his carefully selected victims, leaving behind grotesque scenes of suffering as well as clues that lead to his next "sermon."

Our first glimpse of John Doe's handiwork comes in the form of an obese man in a dark, cockroach-infested kitchen, dead, his face buried in a plate of spaghetti.   Mills' first thought:  "Fat Boy had a heart attack?"  Nope.  Somerset points out the victim's hands and feet, hidden from view, are tied with wire.  And it gets better.  We learn that this man ate himself to death.  Or rather, was forced to eat, and continue eating until his innards burst.  The question hangs in the air: why would someone take the time to do this unless the act had meaning?  

Next up, a high-powered attorney, forced to carve a pound of flesh from his own body, bleeds out on the floor of his office, the word GREED, scrawled in blood on the carpet.

Are these two crimes related?  They don't seem to be, until… 

Somerset is called back to the autopsy lab and is given a jar containing some out-of-the-ordinary little extras taken from the obese man's stomach.  He revisits the crime scene and discovers what we've all been waiting for—the word GLUTTONY is painted in grease on the kitchen wall next to a note that reads "Long is the way, and hard, that out of hell leads up to light."  Somerset recognizes the quote from Paradise Lost, and tells his captain (played by the fabulously crotchety R. Lee Ermey) to expect five more related killings.  "He's preaching," says Somerset.  Pride, Lust, Envy, Sloth and Wrath remain.  We can name them now, and can only imagine what's to come.

"Have you ever seen anything like this?" asks Mills.  As an audience, we are as much in the dark as Somerset and Mills—we don't see the crimes happen, we only see the aftermath, a brilliant choice on Fincher's part.  We see what this killer is capable of, but not his face.  (The first time I saw Se7en in the theater, I found myself scanning the darkness, looking at the anonymous movie-goers seated around me and thinking, my God, any one of these faceless people could be a John Doe, a psychotic person, a sick murderer…)   

In the midst of the ugliness, we meet Mills' wife Tracy (Gwyneth Paltrow), who invites Somerset home for an evening meal.  We're allowed a moment of calm, and the two detectives actually begin to get to know each other as people.  Somerset and Mills' adversarial relationship is forever changed thanks to Tracy, and we like her for it. 

But it just keeps raining.

Our mysterious killer is inventive and vicious—so much so that I remember feeling both extreme dread and giddy excitement as my mind raced to put together what the next crime scene could possibly look like—how could someone use the concepts of Pride or Envy or Sloth as an inspiration for another horribly sadistic murder? 

Somerset and Mills do their homework (with Mills doing the Cliffs Notes version throughout), and not only find their way to the next crime scene (the unbelievable Sloth—demonstrating not only Doe's merciless nature, but his terrifying patience), but by a stroke of good luck they arrive literally at our killer's doorstep.  One amazing chase sequence later (a chase that saw Pitt injured during filming, hence the cast he wears in later scenes), and we begin to understand the depth of John Doe's obsession.  His living quarters are filled with thousands of notebooks, all filled with stream-of-consciousness ramblings on the evils of society ("What sick ridiculous puppets we are… we are not what was intended"), as well as evidence of his horrific crimes.  In a jar we see the left hand of our Sloth victim; in a makeshift darkroom, photos documenting the deaths of our Gluttony and Greed victims, shots of a prostitute (a potential victim?), and several recently developed pictures of…Detective Mills.    But not a single fingerprint.

And while the good guys are busy trying to nail him, the bad guy is still out there being, well, bad.  Really bad. 

John Doe's sermon on Lust is beyond anything I could have imagined—brutal doesn't describe it—and Fincher ups the ante by only showing us glimpses—once again, he lets our minds do the rest.  We also get a special treat here with an appearance by the always-slightly-off-kilter Leland Orser as our killer's hapless collaborator.

More rain.  Doe's call to 911 ("I've gone and done it again.") brings us to a beautiful model's apartment and a little lesson on Pride.  And just when you think you can't possibly take in another grotesque display of butchery… 

John Doe walks into the police station covered in blood, and turns himself in.   Our Mr. Doe has a face now, and he looks an awful lot like Kevin Fucking SPACEY.  Uh-huh. That extraordinary actor with the benign Everyman look—and how smart was Spacey to insist that his name not be in the opening credits. This simple gesture serves the film perfectly, and I applaud him for it.

The conclusion to Se7en is as shocking as the rest of the film, although we shouldn't be surprised.  As Somerset tells Mills, "If John Doe's head splits open and a UFO should fly out, I want you to have expected it."  But we don't expect what Fincher gives us.  The good guys have the bad guy shackled, they're in an open field with police helicopters circling and the sun is shining.  What could possibly go wrong?  Well, the answer to that, if you're Detective Somerset, is everything.  Here's my only beef with the movie:  why wouldn't a veteran cop like Somerset, who's seen the worst of the worst, be able to keep his cool once he realized Doe's true intentions?  He doesn't follow his own counsel, which seems slightly unrealistic to me.

But what a joy to watch a horror movie that actually horrifies—good actors do that.  Se7en would not be as much a part of popular culture as it is without the masterful performances of Freeman, Pitt and Spacey.  And Andrew Kevin Walker's screenplay (written while he was an employee at Tower Records) is nothing less than twisted genius.

Then there's David Fincher himself.  If we take nothing else from his work on Se7en, one thing is obvious: Details matter.  John Doe's notebooks are all real, and took a crew two months and $15,000 to create.  The photos, shot by Melodie McDaniel, were meticulously distressed to achieve their grungy, realistic look. Fincher's atmosphere pervades everything; the flashlight beams cutting through the dark, the sense of decay, the attention to every set, every prop, every piece of furniture…   Even the gritty, shaky opening credit sequence with its mind-bending collage of images—bloody fingers, razors, needles—all set to Coil's remix of Nine Inch Nails' "Closer"  The tone is set for us and it ain't pretty. 

Watch this film twenty times and you'll see something new each time.  And even after nearly that many viewings, I still have a very physical reaction—this movie has smells and tastes—I get itchy visiting this grimy place.  Detail, detail.  Brilliant.  When I watch Se7en I feel respected as an audience member, and I'm grateful.

One of the most notorious films in the genre and yet, if one manages to look past the indefensible animal slaughter and the sometimes clumsy acting in the framing scenes, this is an undeniably riveting film that captures man and media at their worst…and perhaps most truthful.

CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST (1980)



..:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

by Lawrence P. Raffel

(originally published in HORROR 101: The A-List of Horror Films and Monster Movies, Vol. 1, Midnight Marquee Press, Inc., 2007)

(spoilers to follow – read at your own risk)

"I wonder who the real cannibals are."

Often cited as inspiration for The Blair Witch Project (1999), the story of Ruggero Deodato's Cannibal Holocaust (1980) centers around four American documentary filmmakers, presumed dead after they go missing somewhere in the Amazon. A rescue team heads deep into the jungle in an attempt to track down the unaccounted-for filmmakers, eventually stumbling upon a primitive tribe. Not only does the rescue team manage to make peace, but also reacquires the film canisters that belonged to the missing documentarians.

What follows is an unofficial screening back in the U.S. for a group of unemotional, money-hungry TV executives/investors. This "found footage" consists mostly of the four filmmakers traipsing around the jungle, taking time out only to taunt and abuse the local tribe members. Their utter disregard for regional customs leads us to our grand finale in which we see (in up-close and morbid detail) their eventual fate.

While many filmmakers dipped their fingers into this popular pot of gut-munching stew known as "the Italian Cannibal film," none were more infamous than Umberto Lenzi and Ruggero Deodato. Through the years these two tried to outdo one another (and out-gross the general public) by raising the bar of onscreen nastiness with each successive film. With nearly ten films between them, they celebrated this most outrageous horror sub-genre like no other.

A widely known fact among the inner horror circle (a circle that you are now a proud member of, mind you) is that Lenzi and Deodato were in constant cannibal conflict with one another over the years. This isn't to say that there weren't other directors chiming in with their quick cash-in cannibal films (of which there were many) but the battlefield was simply dominated by Deodato and Lenzi, both of whom are responsible for some of the sickest, most vile moments of cinematic/cannibalistic history ever. During their ongoing fight for the almighty grind-house dollar, each upped the ante every time they got behind the camera.

Lenzi was first with his film Man from Deep River (1972) and Deodato followed with Jungle Holocaust (1977). Both efforts contained an odd, yet sentimental love story angle and were far less graphic than those to come. Lenzi then struck back with Eaten Alive (1980) and Deodato took the largest chunk out of the industry with Cannibal Holocaust the same year. Lenzi's answer to Cannibal Holocaust was the only slightly inferior and campier Cannibal Ferox (aka Make Them Die Slowly – 1981), which is now just as famous a title.  Deodato would return yet again only a few short years later with an even campier film called Cut And Run (1985 – starring an unlikely Willy Aames), a forgettable outing that pretty much signified the end of the battle.

While each of these offerings had their moments, none of them ever reached the sheer level of audacity as the two films that changed the sub-genre forever.  After Deodato released Cannibal Holocaust in '80 and Lenzi released Cannibal Ferox in '81, things would never be the same.

Extreme violence was at the core of these flicks, including but not limited to real animal violence. For some unknown reason, these filmmakers relished having real animal torture and violence thrown into the mix. My least favorite aspect of subgenre—and the hardest to watch (for obvious reasons)—I find it's not appropriate to celebrate these films for this footage, but valuable to place them in their historical context. In turn we should adhere a "what's done is done" attitude towards it in support of our examinations. Also of note is the fact that Deodato was allegedly dragged to court over Cannibal Holocaust and had to prove that the cast hadn't actually been killed. It's told that eventually he was only slapped with a fine for animal cruelty.

So why does Cannibal Holocaust remain today the most infamous of all cannibal films? It's not as tough a question to answer as you might think. Very few of these over-the-top and graphic films took themselves as seriously as Cannibal Holocaust. Cannibal Ferox runs a close second, mind you, but still exudes more of a campy vibe with its silly dialogue and score. There is not one frame of Cannibal Holocaust that plays for laughs or comes off as camp. It's serious business through and through and the cinéma vérité/documentary style footage only adds to its uncomfortable feeling. Nearly all of these efforts play off of the same social commentary angle: White man steps into the jungle, disrespects local customs and is eventually given his/her just desserts. Cannibal Holocaust is applauded less for its inclusion of this overused morality tale and more for its unique approach and execution of the subject matter. Cannibal Holocaust rightfully holds its place in horror film history. Unofficial sequels, soundtrack remixes, shirts, posters and even rumors of the theme song being played at weddings highlight its effect on underground pop culture over the years.

The first time I saw Cannibal Holocaust was during my tape trading days back in the early '90s. Unavailable in the U.S. at that time, the only way to see uncut foreign horror was to trade import tapes and/or laser discs. During this time, I had acquired a copy of Cannibal Holocaust from what I believe was a boot of a Venezuelan tape from one of my tape trading buddies. Having not even heard of the film at the time, the promised shock money shot that drew me in was a rumored "fetus eating scene." I only wish I could remember what I traded for it.

In 1997, Cannibal Holocaust was released (as a limited run edition) in the U.S. on laser disc and while the video quality was still far from perfect, the film had never looked better. While I no longer own a laser disc player, I still own this disc, with the jacket autographed by Deodato himself. Also of note is that this release was one of the first to address the legendary missing "piranha scene" by featuring a couple of still photographs that were supposedly taken during filming. Speculation still abounds about a scene in which human flesh was allegedly fed to hungry piranhas. No footage has turned up, just a few stills and Deodato himself has shifted over the years by both confirming and denying that the footage was ever shot.

On Friday, June 29^th, 2001 at the Hoyts Theatre in New Jersey, Exhumed Films showed (for the first time anywhere) a completely remastered and uncut print of Cannibal Holocaust on a double bill with the "Nazi zombie out of water" tale Shock Waves (1977). I was a member of the audience for this monumental screening, accompanied by a friend who had never seen the film before. How I envied him for experiencing Holocaust like this for his first time.

In October of 2005, Grindhouse Releasing put out a 2-Disc Special Edition DVD of Cannibal Holocaust and while the print they used had a few seconds of footage trimmed from the "Last Road To Hell" sequence (a short documentary film within the film), the entire sequence was available as a DVD extra. In addition, over the years, numerous import VHS tapes and DVDs have been released of varying quality despite the film being banned in over 60 countries.

Over the years, distributors have tried to cash in on the cannibal craze by renaming their films accordingly. A handful of films over the years have been renamed Cannibal Holocaust 2 by unscrupulous distributors worldwide. Note: As of the time of this writing, there has NOT been an official sequel to Cannibal Holocaust released. However, Deodato, may or may not currently be in production on an "official" sequel himself.

I came to this one late in my horror career and was completely blown away by how many conventions of the slasher milieu were in place…four years before John Carpenter's Halloween supposedly invented the subgenre.  From its chilling phone calls to the soul-crushing ending, there is nary a false note from start to finish.  Absolutely worth checking out.

BLACK CHRISTMAS (1974)



..:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

by Andrew Haubert

(originally published in HORROR 101: The A-List of Horror Films and Monster Movies, Vol. 1, Midnight Marquee Press, Inc., 2007)

(spoilers to follow – read at your own risk)

"Agnes, it's Billy!  Don't tell what we did!"

The sisters of Pi Kappa Sigma have been receiving obscene phone calls for quite some time now.  Everyone assumes the calls are coming from a fellow student with an overactive imagination (and a total lack of class.)  What they do not realize is the caller is actually a deranged madman that has recently taken up residence in their attic. 

By Christmas Eve, most of the sorority girls have gone home for the holidays, but a handful of the sisters are still in the house.  The strong and caring Jesse (Olivia Hussey) is dealing with major personal problems with her unstable boyfriend Peter (Keir Dullea).  Meanwhile, her best friends Phyllis (Andrea Martin) and Barbie (Margot Kidder) try to help find out what has happened to their sorority sister Clare (Lynne Griffin).  The all-star cast is rounded out by John Saxon as the local police lieutenant who is trying to catch the killer.

Black Christmas cannot only be argued to be the first slasher film, but it is undoubtedly one of the most effective horror/thrillers ever made.  I first viewed Black Christmas when I was a sophomore in college.  Several acquaintances had mentioned how it was not only a great horror movie, but also one of the most influential of the slasher subgenre.  After searching the major video chains, I was able to locate an antique VHS tape at one of the locally owned stores.  It instantly became one of my favorites despite the fact that picture quality had eroded to the point that blacks had faded to grays and the first five minutes were barely watchable due to severe damage to the tape.  While my first viewing experience of Black Christmas was not through the most state of the art medium, a great work will translate regardless of technical specifications.  Director Bob Clark combines a superb mixture of well-developed characters, and the utilization of subtle imagery and diegetic sound to amplify the killer's presence.  

The most successful horror features are ones where we become emotionally invested in the characters before they are placed in harm's way.  Any filmmaker can effectively execute a "jump scare" that might get the audience upon a first-time viewing, but in order to create a film that deserves multiple viewings, we should genuinely want the characters to survive.  Hussey carries the film, giving Jesse multiple layers; a strong modern woman (indicative of the type emerging in the early 1970s), yet also vulnerable at the climax.  Best yet, Clark and screenwriter Roy Moore infuse a suitable level of dark humor, allowing us to laugh without going overboard or losing an ounce of suspense.

Clark also proves himself to be a master of timing, building up the tension over time, then paying off with the scares.  The opening shots establish that the killer is living in the attic of the sorority house, so we know the girls are in danger from the start.  This knowledge provides a solid layer of tension every time we see a shadow lurking in the background.  Further, the obscene calls made by the killer, which are extremely profane and flat out disturbing, add immeasurably. Much of the film's effectiveness can be attributed to its use of diegetic sound, with assistance from Carl Zittrer's eerie score.  And it is impossible to talk about Black Christmas without mentioning the shot of the killer's eye just before he finally makes his move to attack Jesse.

Canadian filmmaker Clark is probably best remembered for his string of successful comedies such as Porky's (1982) and the iconic A Christmas Story (1983), but his roots are firmly planted in the horror genre.  His feature debut was the cult zombie favorite, Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things (1972), which Clark cast with friends and family to stay within his shoestring budget.  Clark's next project was the political satire Dead of Night (aka Deathdream – 1974).  A twist on the classic tale "The Monkey's Paw," it featured the return of a recently deceased Vietnam veteran that mysteriously awakens from the dead and returns home to his family, with dire consequences.  For his first two efforts Clark had to rely on independent financiers, and primarily used friends as cast and crew.  Clark's two-for-two track record gave him the resume to get funding from the Canadian Film Development Corporation, and the chance to finally work with a crew entirely composed of professionals.  The result was the critically praised Black Christmas.  After cementing his status as a legitimate filmmaker, Clark moved away from horror, making a successful string of dramas and becoming famous with the aforementioned comedies.

While there is certainly room for debate in declaring a definitive "original slasher film," Black Christmas has as much, if not more, right to the title as any. The shower scene from Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho (1960) is commonly acknowledged as the turning point for onscreen violence in the horror genre, and became the blueprint for kill scenes in slashers.  Almost every horror filmmaker working today owes a two-fold debt to Hitchcock for his inspired direction and, perhaps more importantly, his legitimizing of the horror genre for adults. Mario Bava's Bay of Blood (aka Twitch of the Death Nerve – 1971) also holds a rightful claim as the prototypal slasher, being the first to employ many conventions that would become staples of the genre, such as using first-person camera perspective for the killer, incompetent authority figures, "creative" slayings, etc.  However, while Bava certainly deserves credit for creating the first "body count" movies, the teen slashers that define the genre are much more than just a series of brutal murders—although cynics may dispute that claim.

The slasher genre, is defined by numerous commonalities in both the narrative structure and stylistic techniques, and many of these now-common clichés can be traced to Black Christmas.  First and foremost is the setting.  While small towns have never been safe within the horror genre, slashers almost exclusively tend to be set in rural or small town settings where mass murder is unheard of.  Another key component is the progressive representation of strong females on film.  In horror films (and elsewhere), women had traditionally been portrayed as weak and dependent upon men for protection in times of danger.  The slasher genre was one of the first to play against this stereotype, presenting female characters that could take care of themselves.  Slashers are also well known for employing camera shots from the killer's point of view; a technique often criticized by detractors of the genre, maintaining that the approach promotes viewer identification with the killer.  These techniques—utilized so effectively in Black Christmas—have since become commonplace.

While Black Christmas has since gone on to fanfare and critical praise, it was by no means a blockbuster, as it grossed just over $4 million in theaters in its initial release. John Carpenter's genre classic Halloween (1978), which ended up grossing over $47 million, is inarguably responsible for popularizing the slasher genre.  Regardless of which is ultimately considered the first true teen slasher, Clark definitely deserves credit for his hand in creating the subgenre. According to Clark's commentary track on the Black Christmas DVD, Carpenter was a huge fan of Black Christmas and asked if there were any plans for a sequel.  Clark informed the young director that Black Christmas would be his last horror film, but he envisioned the sequel would occur the following autumn when the killer escaped from the asylum where he had been held.  The maniac would then ruthlessly stalk the residents of sorority houses, much as he did the previous Christmas.  While Clark gives Carpenter full credit for the masterful execution of Halloween, it is clear that Clark feels that it was based upon his core idea.

Black Christmas is truly a classic that should be seen by all fans of the horror genre. The influence Black Christmas had on Halloween is undeniable, and the two together have had a tremendous effect on a multitude of horror films, completely altering the face of popular American horror.  Even if historical importance does not weigh heavily on your viewing choices, Black Christmas deserves to be seen simply because it is a very effective fright film. Clark's ability to combine mise en scène with genuinely haunting sound effects is enough to scare the most thick-skinned horror enthusiast.