Well, it’s the end of the month. Time for the final batch of flicks. Hope everyone’s Halloween has been fun. Maybe next year I'll actually venture out into the world again.
I wasn’t planning on having 1984’s Don’t Open Till Christmas
as the closer for 2024’s iteration of Unseen Terror, but I figured it could
be a fitting note to end on considering that when the clock strikes midnight,
the slumbering beast known as Mariah Carey will emerge and terrorize the world
for the next couple of months. Plus, I don’t really have a strong desire to end
my marathon with an Eli Roth flick like Thanksgiving. Anyways, this is
the first "traditional" slasher movie that I’ve seen in recent memory to NOT take place in or
come from North America. It’s a simple story of authorities pursuing a
mysterious figure who’s been killing off Santa impersonators in London during
Christmastime. The first thing that must be noted about Don’t Open Till
Christmas is how much of a nightmare it was behind the scenes to complete
and release the movie. First, its main actor/director Edmund Purdom quit after
constant conflicts with producers (which led to delays and rescheduling while
shooting). Afterwards, the movie’s co-writer Derek Ford was hired to take over
and complete the picture…only to be relieved after two measly days on the job.
After THAT, editor Ray Selfie was hired to direct, and they demanded that most
of the script be rewritten by another individual. Because of the previously
mentioned Purdom leaving the production, they also asked that much of the movie
be re-shot. Many characters had to be recast as well due to some of the
original performers being unavailable to return at the time. Eventually, Purdom
came back to finish directing and complete his on-screen scenes.
You got all of that?
The result is a slasher flick that feels extremely awkward,
though still admittedly entertaining. The influence from the Italian giallo
scene is very noticeable in some of its color palette (very bright red blood
for example) and there are some very sudden outbursts of extreme violence that
feel slightly like the material seen in Pieces (both coincidentally
produced by Dick Randall). That’s another hyperviolent release from the mid-80s
that I’ve previously reviewed, but Pieces is a lot more competent and unapologetic
for what it is. Also, Pieces wouldn’t have wasted casting genre favorite
Caroline Munro (famously known for roles in Maniac, The Golden Voyage of
Sinbad, The Spy Who Loved Me, and MANY hammer horror flicks) in a two-minute-long
cameo that ultimately serves no purpose other than to make her scream at the
sight of a dead body. At least Munro understood the assignment given out here
though; most of this cast is eerily calm about seeing horrific murders committed in
front of their eyes. Hell, one of the picture’s first slayings is seeing
someone get a spear shot through their head IN FRONT OF PEOPLE AT A PARTY, and
only one person seems genuinely shocked or horrified. Maybe this is a British
thing? Maybe I’m just being too anal about these kinds of flicks.
Don’t Open Till Christmas is like that person you
randomly see at a bar who can’t quite hit the bullseye on the dart board, but
still manages to elicit an “ah, at least you tried man” from the patrons. It’s
just too clumsy to warrant a strong recommendation but compared to some of the
other material I’ve viewed this month, it’s far from a complete disaster. If
you aren’t in the mood to rewatch the vastly superior “holiday horror” pictures
such as Christmas Evil, Silent Night, Deadly Night, or even Gremlins for
the umpteenth time, then I suppose you could fire this up.
The nicest thing I can say about A Haunted House, a 2013 parody of the “found footage” genre, is that it could’ve been far
worse than it is. At this point I don’t think it’s controversial to say that any
of the Wayans Brothers’ best days are behind them and that post-Scary Movie,
the parody genre has more-or-less become the “reference” genre. Yes, we get
lucky with gems like Pop Star, Hot Fuzz, Weird: The Al Yankovic Story, and
Black Dynamite from time to time, but for the most part it has become
dreadful. The funniest part of A Haunted House had to do with an audio
review from the now defunct spill.com (which I’ll link to right here. I'd advise starting at the 9-minute mark). I
breathed a short sigh of relief when J.B. Smoove and David Koechner showed up
because lord knows once I saw Nick Swardson on screen, I almost instantly knew that this movie was doomed. Hard pass on this one. I am not looking forward to Scary
Movie 6.
To quote the immortal Cypress Hill, however, “I ain’t going out like that.” I had to end on a high note.
So, I re-watched Tremors. Again.
Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a “comfort” watch. Plus, I’d
rather have October end on an exciting note about giant, underground worms battling Kevin Bacon & Fred Ward than one where Marlon Wayans takes
a dump on his wife’s father’s ashes.
Not sure what I can say about Tremors that I already
haven’t said either online or in person. It’s a perfect monster movie. It’s a
perfect horror-comedy. It’s the right kind of exhilaration packed with memorable
characters, endlessly quotable lines, and practical effects that could put most
things from modern day “monster” movies to shame. It’s….perfection.
Nevada.
…………………I’m not apologizing for that joke.
Anyways, stay tuned because I may be back in the next couple
of days to talk about what the future holds for this yearly blog-o-thon thing
that I do for fun.
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