Showing posts with label DEMONIC CHICANERY. Show all posts
Showing posts with label DEMONIC CHICANERY. Show all posts

Thursday, November 22, 2018

The Church



The Church (1989) aka La chiesa aka Cathedral of Demons aka Demon Cathedral
Dir. Michele Soavi
Screenplay by (so says IMDB): Michele Soavi, Dario Argento, Franco Ferrini, and, (uncredited), Dardano Sacchetti, Lamberto Bava, Fabrizio Bava, Nick Alexander, and --why not?-- fucking M.R. James (they claim it’s a uncredited adaptation of The Treasure of Abbot Thomas, I guess in the sense that there’s a guy who finds a hidden evil thing in the vicinity of a church?)
Starring Hugh Quarshie, Tomas Arana, Barbara Cupisti, Asia Argento



            THE CHURCH began life as DEMONS 3, the third sequel in the Dario-Argento-produced, Lamberto-Bava-directed loose series of films about people who go to a place, and then there are demons there. In DEMONS, there is a group of people who go to a movie theater, and then there are demons there, and they kill everybody. In DEMONS 2, there are people in an apartment complex, and then there are demons there, and they kill everybody. But unlike those two classics of hallucinogenic Italian anarchy, the third film was to be directed by Argento protege Michele Soavi (CEMETERY MAN, STAGEFRIGHT) who had far grander ideas. This wouldn’t simply be a film about a bunch of demons who kill everybody someplace. This would be sophisticated, philosophical; a meditation on religion and violence that he certainly didn’t want to be associated with those crass and uncouth DEMONS movies. The artistic difference between Soavi and Argento was as unbridgeable, and they never worked together again,* but Soavi got his way and was able to give the film a new name, to clearly demarcate it from those sophomoric, primitive DEMONS movies and ensure that anyone going to see it understood this was something bold, visionary, different.

Which is weird, because I watched THE CHURCH, and here’s what happens: there is a group of people who go to a Church, and then there are demons there, and they kill everybody.

 In fact, in nearly every way imaginable, the premise and screenplay are as broadly in line with the two DEMONS movies as it would be possible for another human besides Lamberto Bava to get. Like them, it is not so much a narratively broken film as it is a film which appears to have originated in some kind of bizarre alternate universe where narrative was never invented in the first place. It has nothing even remotely resembling a protagonist; top-billed Hugh Quarshie (STAR WARS EPISODE I: THE PHANTOM MENACE) has said maybe five words by the 55 minute mark and eventually emerges as something like a main character strictly through a process of attrition, and even then nobody in sight has anything even vaguely identifiable as an arc. Slightly over halfway through, roughly a dozen new characters who we’ve never seen before appear and occupy most of the film’s remaining runtime; meanwhile, the only two characters who have had any substantive dialogue in the first half vanish completely. Several major characters persist throughout nearly the entire runtime without ever actually doing anything (most notably cute little 12-year-old Asia Argento [DARIO ARGENTO'S DRACULA 3-D!] who the ending seems to suggest must be important in some way which is certainly never apparent during her time on-screen). Which is not to say any of this is a problem! On the contrary, it's actually one of those charming bits of eccentric character which makes the DEMONS series so special. It just seems odd that Soavi would make such a fuss about wanting to do something different, and then make a movie which exactly recreates the single most identifiable feature of the series he's trying to distance himself from.



Of course, perhaps there was only so much he could do with this screenplay, written (as were the DEMONS movies) by Argento, Franco Ferrini (ONCE UPON A TIME IN AMERICA[!]), and Dardano Sacchettii (Fulci's Gates of Hell trilogy, A BLADE IN THE DARK). But there is one major difference here noteworthy enough to suggest some kind of auteurial intent: While the DEMONS movies offer virtually no explanation for the sudden uptick in demonic activity (and, indeed, barely seem aware that this would even be the sort of thing that would rouse a natural curiosity in a viewer), THE CHURCH is much more invested in its backstory than its main…. well, "story" seems like the wrong word. But to the extent that there is any kind of identifiable linear series of events depicted in THE CHURCH, it is very much more focused on the why than either of its predecessors. In fact, it actually begins sometime in the vaguely defined Middle Ages, as a group of mounted Christian knights identify a hidden village which they deem to exceed the acceptable legal limit of witchiness, and then proceed to massacre absolutely everyone and everything in sight, down to the last whimpering child. They then toss them all in a hastily-dug corpse-pit, cover ‘em up with dirt, lay a giant cross over the pile, and, at some point, build a church over the whole damn thing.

As with most horror films that root their evil in the heretic purges of the past, this immediately produces a pretty muddy conflict. Because, surely aren’t expected to side with this group of masked warriors who mercilessly slaughter a whole village of screaming, begging women and children who seem to pose absolutely no threat whatsoever to anyone, and who, by every indication the movie offers, merely want to continue their tranquil existence hiding from the brutal oppression of these roving gangs of murderous zealots. Hell, the last thing we see in this sequence is a POV shot through the cross-shaped visor of a helmet, as its wearer happily skewers a cowing child.  We’re later told “they killed everyone, no one knew why,” which sure seems to establish the villagers’ innocence. And yet, everything about the story which follows seems to suggest that no, the fundamentalist maniacs were quite correct to butcher this bucolic hamlet, and really the only problem is that the Church didn’t quite erase their existence thoroughly enough. When we later watch as the Church elders sadistically torture and murder the brilliant architect of the very Church they compelled him to construct, he plaintively admonishes them that everything you don’t understand, you think is demonic. But, uh, you know, all these Demons around here sure seem to prove them right. As is often the case with Italian genre film, the more they try to explain, the more questions are raised. Obviously this incident has something to do with the Demonic infestation that follows many centuries later, but why, and exactly who's fault it is, remains completely obscure.



Anway, this sort-of-backstory accomplished, we leap immediately into another backstory, this one involving the present-day librarian of the massive, austere Gothic church which now rests on the former site of the massacred village (Tomas Arana, who, holy crap, has a surprisingly lengthy career of bit parts in major movies, including TOMBSTONE, THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER, THE BOURNE SUPREMACY, and THE DARK KNIGHT RISES. But of course, around these parts we know him best for BODY PUZZLE). He and a nice lady who is restoring an obviously evil demonic fresco (Barbara Cupisti, NEW YORK RIPPER, OPERA, CEMETERY MAN) decide that if they uncover the ancient Templar secrets hidden underneath their place of employment, they might, like, I dunno, benefit in some way (“it’s not like I want to spend the rest of my life around old books!” the librarian says, apparently regretting some of his life choices). He seems to immediately jump to the conclusion whatever’s buried down there will make him a mystically enhanced super-man (an especially disconcerting word choice after his worrisomely non-judgemental lecture about how much the Nazis loved the Teutonic Knights) and she seems, I guess, generally on board with that, without being especially invested one way or another. We might think otherwise, though, especially after an agreeably shocking moment when the dishwater-dull fresco-restorer suddenly sees a gigantic goat-faced demon peeking through her window. That's a red flag, lady.

Hey, it just struck me that this here is another horror movie about discovering an ancient evil by restoring a creepy old fresco, just like THE HOUSE WITH LAUGHING WINDOWS or Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s SWEET HOME. Three makes a pattern, so at this point I’m happy to inaugurate a hitherto undiscovered horror subgenre: Frescosploitation. Oh yeah, and GHOSTBUSTERS 2, also!

Anyhow, the movie spends nearly half its running time setting up the backstory of why there will eventually be Demons in this church that kill everyone, and really only manages to take something inexplicable and make it more convoluted and confounding. That the movie is complete nonsense is no problem for a committed lover of Italian horror, but it’s a mildly bigger problem that it treads water so long before getting to the good stuff. Fortunately, Soavi’s grasp of the pure cinema of horror is strong -- on average, probably stronger than Lamberto Bava -- and he imbues the whole thing with a omnipresent sense of imminent doom, crafting a visual style very slightly more natural than Bava’s two DEMONS movies without particularly bothering with anything as tacky as realism.



            Indeed, despite its strange need to over-elaborate and under-explain the origins of its demonic infestation, the movie is fiercely, unapologetically committed to the bizarro dream logic that made the two DEMONS movies classics. At no time during the entire movie does Soavi seem interested in doing the obvious or expected. For example: the demonic plague is sealed beneath a giant cross, augmented with a rotating centerpiece -- engraved with the image of an elaborate goat’s head demon -- that seems to act as something of a lock. You'd assume this is a pretty straightforward scenario: you break the lock, and the Demons or whatever march up out of their centuries-old prison. But THE CHURCH would never even consider doing something so direct. Instead, when unsealed, the cross tumbles downwards, impossibly, into an empty infinity of space so vast the falling object is lost to the eye. But then a second later, the guy who unsealed it reaches into the hole and pulls out a bag, as though it is only a few feet deep. Then he opens the bag, and hands come out and strangle him. Then, he’s laying on his back and the thing’s still sealed up, as if none of it happened. In fact, for the Demons to really get going, some random guy has to get possessed, and then jackhammer himself to death, the shaking from which releases some weird liquid vial hidden in the walls, which falls into a Mousetrap-style cup, which in turn releases sand, which turns some hidden gears, which closes and locks the church doors, which flips a capstone to read a long paragraph in Latin.** And even all that doesn’t seem to directly release anything obvious, it just tells us that things are getting rolling. And this is all well over an hour in.

The runup to our big demon-palooza is atmospherically potent enough to never exactly drag, but there’s no denying that the film seems intentionally slow to get going, reaaaallly ramping up its sense of apocalyptic dread without ever quite resolving into a specific turning point, let alone anything which could feasibly be termed a narrative. It's a movie which is all about build, possibly to the detriment of any climax it might believe itself to be building towards. Even once things progress beyond ominous hints of danger to some full-scale carnage, the movie stubbornly refuses to abandon its slow-burn structure and really cut loose. Once the doors of the Church close, there are quickly giant demons and possessed people running amok and gruesomely dying, and yet our soon-to-be-victims sitting in the cathedral don’t seem to notice, or at most seem to feel a vague sense of unease. A crazy demon-possessed redhead rips down part of the rail around the church’s altar and runs screaming across the entire length of the building in front of dozens of witnesses to impale a lady on the front door where everyone is gathered, and yet one second later everyone is sitting in the pews, bored. What?



It’s certainly no more inscrutable than DEMONS (which would be a high bar for any film to clear) but it is a little more staid; DEMONS is full of cartoonish, exaggerated characters and wild, free-form vignettes, while the CHURCH mostly keeps its characters toned down and placid, making for an oddly low-energy journey considering how many crazy things happen. Which is unfortunate, because the few times Soavi does go broader, the results are pretty good: there’s a bickering old couple, for example, who amount to a welcome bit of silly fun despite their schtick being about as old as the written word. And the movie is certainly never too highfalutin’ to resist some some splendidly outlandish gimmick kills, like a lady who gets spattered like a bug on the windshield of a oncoming subway, a lady who decapitates her paramour to use his head as a bell ringer or --my personal favorite-- a killer baptismal pool that turns into a really pissed off fish and tries to bite a guy’s face off.

            Mostly, though, it’s more interested in being weird and ominous than fun and gorey. This, I think, is what Soavi had in mind when he said he wanted to do something different than the DEMONS movies; not that he didn't want to have a bunch of silly-looking rubber monsters and outrageous gorey gimmicks, but that he wanted to treat them as unsettling phantasmagoria, as opposed to DEMONS' cheerful empty-headed zen splatter. Consequently, the cinematography (by Renato Tafuri, STAGEFRIGHT) draws its palette from religious artwork of the late Renaissance, the editing emphasizes a squirming sense of creeping unease, and even the score, by Keith Emerson and Goblin, is moodier and much less funky than their usual fare (and even apparently quotes liberally from Phillip Glass's KOYAANISQUATSI score. So you know they're not fuckin' around.) 

           For better or worse, this is the approach he commits to, and with surprising success: there’s a hair-raising potency to the voyeuristic wrongness of walking around the corner and suddenly seeing a gigantic demon fucking a motionless naked woman (this actually happens twice, with two different wild-looking demons), and a genuine nightmarish grandeur to the film’s final surprise, an enormous writhing tower of demonic bodies which groans upwards out of the earth to tower above the impotent Christian iconography of the building it’s defiling. Images like these are weird in the original sense of the word, so uncanny and outside any imaginable stripe of relatable human experience that they frustrate our usual defenses to the familiar tropes of horror movies and manage to create a mild, but very real, sense of true unease. If the movie is ultimately too tacky and ridiculous to ever make a real play for being scary, it is indisputably nightmarish. It’s the kind of nightmare that’s hard to describe, and when you try it just sounds silly and inconsequential, but there’s no denying what you felt.  



Still, there’s equally no denying that the movie has a frustrating lack of closure. It keeps teetering on the brink of a climax, and delivers plenty of wild sequences on the way, but it never quite builds to a proper fever pitch. It ends right as it it seems like the final act is set to begin, with the fate of a bunch of characters never even really resolved (did the biker guy die when his girl got smashed? What about all those schoolkids? What about the bald priest, and the little girl’s mom, and the photographer, etc, etc.) This is partially the inevitable result of a script which so rigorously ignores every basic element of narrative structure; after all, how can a movie which has no identifiable character arcs or conflicts even meaningfully propose a "climax" in the traditional sense? But it's also the result of the editing and tone: the DEMONS movies are essentially free-form collages of loosely-related vignettes, but THE CHURCH finds enough formal structure in its images and scene construction that it seems to promise a more coherent destination than it's able to deliver. Since it shares an editor with the other DEMONS movies (Franco Fraticelli, also editor of DEEP RED, OPERA, and SUSPIRIA), it presents an interesting case study in how a director can shape almost identical technical elements into something which reads very differently on-screen. 

 Different indeed, and probably technically better, but also somewhat less satisfying. It’s a shame, because pound-by-pound THE CHURCH has vastly more whammy than most movies. But filmmakers tell you how to experience the things they’re putting on-screen, and the entire runtime of THE CHURCH finds Soavi urging his audience wait for it, waiiiit for it, waaaaiiiiit for it.....

(In fact, I was going to end the review with that line, just to artistically demonstrate how infuriating it is to go out on such an unfinished note. But re-reading it before publishing, I actually found it so bothersome that I couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger. Instead, I added this useless final paragraph to explain the joke. Which I guess isn't much better, but at least it feels like a definitive stopping point. If a comparison of THE CHURCH and DEMONS has taught us anything, it's that if you're going to commit to unhinged aranchic chaos, you better really commit. Trying to apply even a little sanity is just gonna blunt the impact of something better left wild and feral. Maybe Soavi was onto something after all about making THE CHURCH entirely its own thing, but the final result suggests if that's what he was after, maybe he didn't go quite far enough.)

FIN

*Or so the legend goes, anyway. I’ve seen this bit of trivia repeated in multiple articles on the film, and even by Soavi in an interview, yet I can’t help but noticed they did, in fact, work on another project together, in the same capacities, a mere two years later (that would be 1992's THE SECT). So I don’t know.

** We’ll later learn that not only is the demon trap a giant Rube Goldberg machine, but the building was designed with a single spot that you can press which will bring the whole building tumbling down. Whatever they paid that architect before torturing him to death, it wasn’t enough.



CHAINSAWNUKAH 2018 CHECKLIST!
Searching For Bloody Pictures

TAGLINE
You Haven’t Got A Prayer. Now that’s how you do the thing, tagline writers. Simple, succinct, to the point. A+
TITLE ACCURACY
There definitely is a church, but in my opinion a more accurate title would have been DEMONS 3
LITERARY ADAPTATION?
IMDB does officially claim it is an adaptation of M. R. James’s The Treasure Of Abbot Thomas, though it shares not a single specific character, event, or setting with that story, save for the basic premise of finding a nasty creature in a hole in the vicinity of a Church. (Actually, now that I think about it, a grotesque demon head which seals the the “treasure” in its hiding place does figure in both stories. But that’s literally the sole direct similarity between the two works)  
SEQUEL?
Arguably a sequel to DEMONS and DEMONS 2, and distributed that way in some territories.
REMAKE?
None
COUNTRY OF ORIGIN
Italy, and how.
HORROR SUB-GENRE
Demons, Catholic Horror, Possession, Apocalyptic horror
SLUMMING A-LISTER?
None
BELOVED HORROR ICON?
Michele Soavi, Dario Argento, Asia Argento
NUDITY?
Maybe like, a tiny bit? That’s an obvious oversight for a movie like this.
SEXUAL ASSAULT?
Certainly some demonic sex with pliant, but not necessary consenting women.
WHEN ANIMALS ATTACK!
No
GHOST/ ZOMBIE / HAUNTED BUILDING?
No
POSSESSION?
Some Mind Whammy, yeah
CREEPY DOLLS?
No
EVIL CULT?
Well, Catholicism seems like maybe the bigger problem, but there is a village of people who are perceived to be heretics.
MADNESS?
Nah
TRANSMOGRIFICATION?
Baptismal Bath into Fish Monster
VOYEURISM?
Yes
MORAL OF THE STORY
Either don’t kill a village full of innocent victims, or, I guess, maybe do, but do a better job of sealing their corpses in?



Wednesday, October 24, 2018

Winterbeast



Winterbeast (released in 1992)
Dir and Written (and story by?) Christopher Thies
Starring Tim R. Morgan, Mike Magri, Charles Majka, Bob Harlow



            Sometime in 1986, a guy named Christopher Thies (no other credits) got together with some people, presumably his friends, and started to make a horror movie. Then they stopped. At some point in 1989, they possibly resumed for a brief period, and then they stopped again. And then years passed. And then in 1992, somebody else got ahold of the footage they’d shot and then released it like it was a real movie, under the title WINTERBEAST for what I’m sure are reasons which made perfect sense at the time.

            Well, there’s not a lot of Winter in WINTERBEAST, but at least the “beast” part checks out, because the first thing we see is some guy who appears to be a security guard but we’ll later find out is a park ranger, but we’ll also later find out this is a dream, so it’s possible that he’s actually a park ranger dreaming that he’s a security guard. Anyway, my point is, this guy’s a total beast. Check out that fly mustache:


(although sometimes, for example when the actor has clearly shaved it off in-between filming days, it looks more like this:)


             Anyhoo, either way, Beastiness confirmed. This is Ranger Bill Whitman (Tim R. Morton, WINTERBEAST), clearly the director’s most handsome friend, or at least the most handsome friend who was available weekends in both 1986 and 1989. But I suppose the title might also refer to the thing which is clearly right in front of him, but he doesn’t immediately see because he’s looking at another fellow who’s seated slightly to the right. Once he looks over, the thing he sees looks like this:


            I don’t know if that’s a beast or what, but it’s sure the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen less than 2 minutes into a horror movie. It wiggles around in its stop-motion glory for a few seconds, and then the other guy (possibly David Majka [whose real name, IMDB claims, is “David Mica” even though he has no other credits], WINTERBEAST) rips some skin off the gushing wound in his belly, and then Whitman screams, and... oh! It was just a dream, he wakes up in an undefined white space, clearly several years older. But just when you thought maybe WINTERBEAST was just fucking around, before this mustache guy can sit up and have a cup of coffee and consider the symbolic implications of this strange vision, or even reveal where he is or who he is or speak a single line of dialogue, whammo, out of the blue, there’s a little under five seconds of footage of some other guy (possibly also David “Mica” Majka?) somewhere else, with some kind of crazy muppet ripping its way out of his torso. This does not appear to be a dream, but it’s also not clear what it is or when it happened. If mustache guy is asleep, it’s probably nighttime, but the muppet-ripping is clearly a day scene. And we cut immediately from that day scene to another night scene, so it’s certainly not part of the same dream, and it’s also certainly not happening simultaneously, but that’s about all I can tell you, or will ever be able to tell you, about what the fuck is happening here.

            I have a theory, however, that the unfortunate victim of the fatal muppeting may be a man named, if the credits are to be believed, “Slappy Tello.” The reason I believe this is that in the next scene, the first to take place in any kind of clearly defined contemporary reality, we find forest Rangers Whitman and Stillman (Mike Magri, WINTERBEAST, here wearing Witness Protection sunglasses in every scene, even indoors at night) discussing a character named “Tello,” who will be referenced frequently and who appears in the credits but who will never definitively be introduced to the audience, making it likely --if far from certain-- that at least one of the two deaths we see in the first three minutes is the explanation for his disappearance.



            Or maybe not, because Ranger Bradford (Lissa Breer, WINTERBEAST), who was apparently with “Tello” when he “disappeared,” says nothing happened (despite the fact that she’s covered in blood), and that seems to satisfy Ranger Whitman’s curiosity (Ranger Stillman, for his part, seems content to peruse the ranger station’s surprisingly extensive collection of 1950’s era pornography through his ever-present cool guy shades). Content that they’ve done everything possible (nothing), and despite the fact that a man is apparently missing and there is a clearly traumatized victim of some kind of physical violence sitting in their office, Whitman and Stillman settle in for a night of small talk. Poorly-recorded community theater actors (at best) stepping on each others’ lines while sitting in underlit rooms framed in some hellish middle ground between a medium and long shot is, I admit, a pretty big part of WINTERBEAST. But it’s also kind of what you expect in an independent no-budget “American Regional Horror film” (as we now euphemistically refer to such things; see SATAN’S BLADE, for example). Some people find this sort of thing charming; most people who are not violent masochists find it absolutely stultifying. Either way, it’s par for the course. What WINTERBEAST has already done to shatter our expectations, though, is to throw two crazy gory monster scenes at us within the first minute that photographed images appear on-screen.* This establishes WINTERBEAST’s unique MO: endless scenes of mumbling nonactors stiffly reciting indecipherable nonsense, punctuated with almost completely random sequences where a cool stop-motion monster suddenly appears and eats someone we’ve never seen before and who is probably not ever going to be mentioned again.

For example, in-between two scenes of excruciating mumbled nonacting, suddenly we see a woman in an unidentified cabin (not specifically credited, which seems wrong considering this nice young lady was willing to take her top off for WINTERBEAST) take her top off and stand awkwardly in the middle of the room, like you do. Then, without warning, some kind of god damned crazy 20-foot tall anthropomorphized tree lumbers out of the woods in stop motion. She looks out her window and screams, then the damned thing reaches into what is clearly not the same cabin and pulls out an adorable fabric dolly which very clearly has its shirt on, smashes it against the wall, and splits. Scene over! Cut back to grueling chit-chat. We will never know who this woman was, we will never see the tree again, and none of this will ever be explicitly mentioned. As far as we know, this may be a completely unrelated event which just coincidentally happened to involve a giant stop-motion monster, and this is just a NASHVILLE-style series of vaguely interrelated vignettes about small-town life in Winterbeastville. Something like this happens once every 10 minutes or so of this 76-minute movie, so you’ve always got a new weird monster to look forward to, even if you’ve got to slog through a punishing volume of harrowingly dull dialogue scenes to get to them.



            This seems a completely reasonable trade-off to me, but it does make describing the plot an exercise in total futility; suffice to say, Whitman gradually becomes concerned that something unsafe is happening without ever specifically coming to the conclusion that the danger is related to stop-motion monsters, and his solution to this little problem is the classic JAWS approach: close the beach. Or in this case, shut down the building alternately called “Wild Goose Lodge” or “Wild Goose Lodges,” which he inscrutably seems to think is the source of the problem, or at least that shutting it down will somehow mitigate the danger. This canny strategy is understandably greeted with a sustained level of astonished fury from “Wild Goose Lodge(s)” owner and operator, Mr. Sheldon (Bob Harlow, in what is, to the indescribable detriment of mankind, his only known film role).

            Now we need to pause for a moment and talk about Mr. Sheldon. In a one-star review on IMDB user “vertigoboy1981” complains, “the villain is a gay Jewish guy,” two assertions for which I see no textual evidence. His other complaints, “It makes no sense… they all wear flannels, the acting is so bad, there is no plot,” all check out, so I have no choice to assume he’s writing in good faith from personal experience, but at least as far as the dialogue is concerned, Sheldon is neither gay nor Jewish. But I understand his confusion, and his blind, groping search for adjectives which convey what this guy’s deal is, because he’s quite a character. Let’s have a look at what we’re dealing with here:


          
            I have absolutely no idea how to categorize someone like Mr. Sheldon, but between his wild wardrobe, his enthusiastically high-camp line readings and his general appearance of being an aged and wizened Alfred E. Neuman, I wholeheartedly support whatever it is you would call whatever it is he’s doing. He’s the solitary source of human entertainment here, and so we’re totally on his side even as it becomes increasingly clear that he’s not just a greedy capitalist objecting to an overzealous Park Ranger shutting down his livelihood on vague suspicion that there might be monsters in the woods or something, he’s definitely up to no good. Our suspicions about his possible villainy stem from a sequence wherein Sheldon, dressed in some sort of remarkable plaid suit jacket, procures the recently deceased body of Ranger Bradford, suspends it with wires into the hostess stand at his lodge (?), assembles a group of never-before seen mummified corpses, and then proceeds to put on a record and sing the entirety of a creepy children’s diddy entitled Oh Dear! What Can The Matter Be? Just in case we had any lingering doubts about this concerning but not necessarily damning behavior, he then puts on a creepy clown mask.

So, definitely he’s part of the problem and not the solution here. When Whitman and his spectacularly uncharismatic friend Charlie who I’ve put off mentioning as long as possible considering he’s basically the co-lead here (Charles Majka, WINTERBEAST**) confront him in the middle of this production, he admits that it is his intention to bring demons “through the gate” (there has been no talk of a “gate” before, and there will be none after). Whitman very reasonably asks, “but why? Why would you want to do it?” By way of explanation, Harlow flashes back to a slightly extended sequence of that guy from the beginning who has the muppet pop out of him. Then he laughs and catches on fire and his face explodes. I’m on record as being generally against bringing demons through gates, but I gotta admit I like this guy’s style.

            Anyway, it seems like this is going to solve the problem, whatever it was. Whitman and Charlie seem to think so, because in the very next scene after they’ve left the site of a daemonical musical number / head burning, they have the following conversation over the phone:

            CHARLIE (picking up the phone): “Perkins’ general store.” [seems weird he would just go back to his day job the next morning after an experience like that, but Charlie is such a profoundly dull character that I must admit it’s plausible behavior for him]

            WHITMAN: “Charlie, this is Bill.”

            CHARLIE: “Hey what’s up? How’s business up at the lodge?”

            WHITMAN: “It’s a lot slower today with the weekend over. What are you doing?”

A rare frame with no visible plaid, though a guy wearing plaid just left. By the way, keep an eye out for that mounted deer head that always seems to be looking right at the audience; he'll turn up in multiple locations and is very possibly the evil mastermind behind all the horror.

            This seems a surprisingly mild reaction to what they’ve just seen.*** At first you figure hey, I guess they know what they’re doing. But they definitely don’t, because almost immediately they’re confronted by some kind of indescribable pissed-off four-armed skeleton/art piece that they describe as a “totem pole.” Stillman (largely absent from most of the film after making a strong impression early on) tries to chop it down, but it comes to life and he runs away, and nobody ever mentions it again. OK, that’s definitely less than ideal, but maybe it was an isolated incident. But then a gigantic lizard and a colossal chicken and so on show up to rampage around town, and we’re forced to admit that whatever it was with Sheldon melting didn’t turn out to be as definitive a solution as our heroes seemed to assume. You gotta take these things seriously, fellas.



In the end, after Stillman has his head bitten off by an iguana the size of a high-rise and half the town has been smashed, Whitman heads off into the woods to do... whatever is is he’s trying to do. He doesn’t offer a lot of explanation as to what he’s trying to accomplish. Whatever his plan was, though, it either goes perfectly or it doesn’t, because he’s attacked by a guy on stilts with a devil mask, who might well be the Winterbeast for all I know. Whitman is a guy who couldn’t even get a small-time hotel operator to close early after half a dozen people vanished, so it really doesn’t seem like he’s got much of a chance against this ancient Indian demon or whatever it is, but then just as things seem hopeless, that plaid-coated slab of pasty glucose Charlie shows up, and someone has the idea to shoot a flare gun at an ancient Indian mask that someone gave Charlie, apparently anticipating exactly this eventuality, and that causes the horn guy to have his face catch on fire and explode.



That didn’t work with Sheldon, but I guess it works here, because that’s the end of the movie. The two friends stagger to their feet, Whitman says, “next time, you hunt for bears!” which causes both of them to laugh uproariously, and off they go on their merry way, presumably forgetting that there’s still a giant four armed skeleton, a tree monster, a pissed-off ET, a colossal turkey, some kind of three-eyed chicken, a straight-up kaiju house-crushing lizard, a murderous zombie, and probably like five more weird stop motion things I have already forgotten still out there wreaking havoc on the town. But the movie has now reached the technical definition of feature length, and so sorting all that out will have to wait til the sequel.

            Objectively, WINTERBEAST is one of the most magnificently incompetent movies I have ever seen, and that’s really saying something. But I, for one, am not able to resist being won over by something this outlandish, especially when it sports such a menagerie of Ray Harryhausen delights, obviously lovingly crafted by… someone (the credits are awful short on details, listing no “Special Effects” credit). A typically unsourced bit of IMDB trivia claims “The totem pole monster and the skeleton head that rips out of a man's stomach are both props taken from the Dokken music video 'Burning like a Flame,'” which I can report, after suffering through nearly five minutes of Dokken, does appear to be plausible (see 3:05-3:17). But if that’s true they’ve been significantly redesigned for their big showcase here; It would be easy to just repurpose some old Dokken props as-is and call it a day, but WINTERBEAST is not gonna settle for that shit. Whatever WINTERBEAST's actual talents are, it never lacks in ambition. It knows, I think, that it’s not really going to be able to deliver on the drama, but that just inspires it to really go all-out on the whammy. To shoot for the absolute most possible weird monsters, and also quite possibly the highest volume of plaid by fabric yardage in film history. Just like mean old Mr. Sheldon, it is not good, or even sane, in the traditional sense, but dammit, I have to respect it.

* The first minute and a half of runtime are just the credits over a black background.

** Majka shares a last name with the actor credited as David Majka, but who’s real name is David Mica, according to IMDB. Don’t know what to make of that. But I do know that this Majka is the only cast member with any other IMDB credits of any kind: apparently he appeared (uncredited) in 2017’s Jack Black vehicle THE POLKA KING, ending a 25-year absence from the big screen.

***  I also don’t understand why Whitman appears to be working at the lodge now, because A) I thought he was a Park Ranger and B) didn’t he want the lodge closed? But that’s pretty low on Maslow’s hierarchy of movie nonsense. If I was willing to accept that this movie takes place in a universe where you can buy a plaid suit jacket, I can buy that Whitman has a second job as a hotel clerk.

This thing's in there, and I didn't even mention it and it's not even the best giant chicken in the movie. Listen, I think you should watch this.

CHAINSAWNUKAH 2018 CHECKLIST!
Searching For Bloody Pictures

TAGLINE
THE EVIL DEAD meets NORTHERN EXPOSURE.
TITLE ACCURACY
There is a “Winterbeast” in the credits, but I sure couldn’t tell you which one it is, or why one beast is more important than the others.
LITERARY ADAPTATION?
No
SEQUEL?
None yet, but I still have hope.
REMAKE?
None
COUNTRY OF ORIGIN
USA
HORROR SUB-GENRE
Demons/ Stop-motion monsters
SLUMMING A-LISTER?
Not even a C-lister in here.
BELOVED HORROR ICON?
None.
NUDITY?
Yes
SEXUAL ASSAULT?
No
WHEN ANIMALS ATTACK!
Many monsters attack, but no animals
GHOST/ ZOMBIE / HAUNTED BUILDING?
A zombie shows up for one scene and is never seen again
POSSESSION?
???
CREEPY DOLLS?
None
EVIL CULT?
None, though the implication that Sheldon is doing some kind of demon summoning.
MADNESS?
No, unless you consider wearing a clown mask and singing children’s songs to a group of dessicated corpses somehow psychologically unhealthy.
TRANSMOGRIFICATION?
It kinda seems like the thing at the end is transforming into something, but who knows.
VOYEURISM?
None
MORAL OF THE STORY
Stillman: "This backwoods bric-a-brac is nowhere in my book."