A Halloween party with The Masque of the Red Death

So, if the intensity The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is not quite your thing for a Halloween bingeathon, why not try a classic from Roger Corman and star Vincent Price. But be sure and hear our discussion on CineVerse as well. As Erik Martin introduces the film: Roger Corman, known by the late 1950s shlock filmmaker extraordinaire for his low-budget horror movies of that era, upped his game considerably with the turn of that decade. Between 1960 and 1964, he churned out his most consistently well-regarded pictures, better known as the Poe cycle: a series of eight horror films based on Edgar Allan Poe's works, distributed by American International Pictures and known for their gothic atmosphere, elaborate set designs, and frequent collaboration with actor Vincent Price. 

 

The series began with House of Usher (1960), establishing the style with Price as Roderick Usher, followed by The Pit and the Pendulum (1961), adding to Poe's original story. The Premature Burial (1962) starred Ray Milland, while Tales of Terror (1962) presented an anthology of three Poe tales featuring Price, Peter Lorre, and Basil Rathbone. The Raven (1963) took a comedic turn with Price, Lorre, Boris Karloff, and a young Jack Nicholson. The Haunted Palace (1963), though marketed as part of the Poe Cycle, was actually based on H.P. Lovecraft's The Case of Charles Dexter Ward with some Poe elements. The Masque of the Red Death (1964) is highly regarded, blending Poe's titular tale with Hop-Frog, while the final entry, The Tomb of Ligeia (1964), explores a man's obsession with his deceased wife and her potential return from the grave.

It’s not easy adapting Poe’s work for the big screen. The author’s macabre tales are often introspective, moody, atmospheric stories that relay the inner thoughts and emotions of a character and lack action, realistic characters, and dialogue. They’re also usually quite short, lacking enough back story, character development, and subplots to sustain an 80-minute-plus film. One advantage to adapting Poe, however, which also attracted Corman: they are in the public domain and free to tinker with.

Despite low budgets, these films are admired for their atmospheric horror and creative set designs. All explore the repression of sexuality, the disintegration of personality, and the entry of an innocent character into a realm of decay and corruption, from which the innocent prevails. Most include some eerie dream sequence.

What’s the best film in Corman’s Poe cycle? Many cite The Masque of the Red Death (1964), which follows Prince Prospero, a cruel nobleman who worships Satan, as he hosts a decadent masquerade ball in his castle to avoid the plague ravaging medieval Europe. The story unfolds as Prospero becomes fixated on Francesca, an innocent peasant girl, and brings her, along with her lover Gino and her father Ludovico, to the castle. As the ball progresses, mysterious figures appear, including a figure in a red cloak symbolizing the Red Death itself, leading to a darkly poetic conclusion about mortality and morality.

 

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of Masque of the Red Death, conducted earlier in October, click here.

Masque of the Red Death is one of the first Hollywood films to explore satanism, preceded earlier by Val Lewton’s The Seventh Victim. This film had the largest budget (an estimated $1 million) of all the Corman-Poe movies as well as the highest production values and most impressive sets. Much of the elaborate castle scenery was repurposed from the film version of Becket, which had been filmed earlier that year and earned a BAFTA for its set design, along with an Academy Award nomination for Best Art Direction. This movie also marked one of the earliest color films shot by cinematographer Nicolas Roeg. Masque of the Red Death is widely considered the best of the Corman-Poe films, earning a 91% fresh rating on Rotten Tomatoes, the highest mark among the eight films in this cycle.

 

It’s not Halloween without The Texas Chainsaw Massacre

The great thing about Halloween is that it produces better movies than any other holiday. For people relaxing tonight with a good horror film binge, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre was one of our recent discussions on CineVerse. As Erik Martin, host of our show writes: Released 50 years ago this month, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, directed by Tobe Hooper and co-written by Hooper and Kim Henkel, remains a fright film masterwork that dozens of movies have attempted to imitate but can never duplicate. The setup is brilliantly simple: We follow Sally Hardesty (Marilyn Burns), her brother Franklin (Paul A. Partain), and friends Pam (Teri McMinn), Jerry (Allen Danziger), and Kirk (William Vail) as they travel to rural Texas to visit the Hardesty family homestead. There, they encounter a family of cannibalistic killers, including the infamous chainsaw-wielding Leatherface (Gunnar Hansen). As the friends explore the area, they become prey to Leatherface and his deranged family, leading to a series of chilling and brutal encounters that have made the film one of the most influential in horror history.

 

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of this film, conducted last week, click here.  

Why is Chain Saw worthy of serious celebration 50 years later? For starters, this film accomplishes so much with so little. Despite minuscule production values, a paltry $140,000 budget, a cast of unknowns, eyeball-rolling dialogue and subpar acting from most of the performers, a relatively inexperienced director, and extremely low expectations, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre instantly became one of the most terrifying movies in history, raking in over $30 million at the box office (adjusted for inflation, that would be more than $199 million today), and, over the years, increasingly garnered positive critical attention from many reviewers. (Currently, tit earns an 83% Rotten Tomatoes fresh score and an average critical rating of 7.6 out of 10; Metacritic, meanwhile, gives it a 91 out of 100 Metascore.)

But drilling down further reveals three key factors responsible for its success and timeless effectiveness: approach, circumstance, and reputation. Regarding the former, consider this evaluation from critic Richard Scheib: “Like Night of the Living Dead, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre redefined horror by stripping it of all classical motive. The assaults in the film come without rhyme or reason. Leatherface is not a monster of science or a demonic conjuration, he is even bereft of the cursory psychological explanations that the killers had in psycho-thrillers of the last decade such as Psycho or What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? and their numerous imitators.”

Then, give thought to the circumstances during production. Hampered by a barebones budget and limited resources, director Tobe Hooper was forced to shoot for long stretches in a condensed time frame over 32 days in extreme heat and humidity, with on-set temperatures reaching 110°F. Consequently, the actors look extra stressed—obviously out of exhaustion and discomfort—and the atmosphere and vibe seem all the more strained.

Next, give credence to the film’s early and enduring reputation: Chain Saw was banned in numerous countries, including the UK, where you couldn’t see the film until 1999. This work became a word-of-mouth sensation across the world—the fear-inducing title alone aided that momentum—and was long talked about as one of the most disturbing and frightening horror films of all time.

Take a second look at "Seconds" on CineVerse!

With a million things taking up so much of every day, putting up new posts has fallen by the wayside again. But I did want to share the link to a great episode of the CineVerse film discussion where we take a look at Seconds, an excellent, if lesser known, thriller from suspense master John Frankenheimer. As Erik Markin, hosts of our discussion writes: Released at the height of the Cold War in 1966, Seconds is a unique psychological thriller directed by John Frankenheimer that can still resonate with modern audiences in a world where innovative technologies can offer exciting—and frightening—new possibilities. Notable for its unsettling take on themes of identity, existential crisis, and the pressures of modern life, the film follows Arthur Hamilton, a dissatisfied middle-aged man, who is approached by an enigmatic group that offers him a chance to erase his old existence and begin anew by undergoing a complete physical transformation. After assuming the identity of the younger, more successful Tony Wilson, played by Rock Hudson, Hamilton initially enjoys his new life. However, he soon discovers that this fresh start comes with a heavy and frightening price.

To listen to a recording of our CineVerse group discussion of Seconds, click here.

Seconds is overwhelmingly dark and pessimistic, even for the Cold War era, with an especially downbeat conclusion. There is no tacked-on happy ending here. This is a film that attempts to expose the myths and lies behind the pursuit of the American dream and the search for physical perfectionism—at a time when advertising and popular culture emphasized physical beauty, materialism, and sex appeal.

The visuals are creative, memorable, and unsettling, particularly the distorted shots achieved by master cinematographer James Wong Howe, who uses fish eye lenses, distorted and wide angles, giant close-ups of blank, soulless faces, POV shots, tracking shots following heads and feet, jump cuts and other techniques to achieve a disturbing visual tapestry.

Frankenheimer's direction builds on his earlier work with themes of conspiracy, dread, and control, evident in films like The Manchurian Candidate and Seven Days in May. Though Seconds was not a commercial hit upon release, it has since garnered a devoted following and is now considered a significant piece of existential and dystopian cinema.

 

Hollywood doesn’t understand that the Magic Bullet theory doesn’t work.

When I teach various courses on media theory, media history, or media business, we discuss one of the first theories of the relationship between media messages and audiences. The Magic Bullet Theory, originating in the early 20^th century, expounded upon in Harold Laswell’s book, “Propaganda Technique in the War,” argues that a skilled communicator can craft a persuasive message that will have direct and uniform effects on all members of his audience. Today any textbook on mass communication theory also explains that the Magic Bullet Theory is overly simplistic, unrealistic, and stands as a discredited relic of the dawn of media studies. 

 

To discuss in detail why the Magic Bullet Theory is an unrealistic explanation of the communication process would take too much space here, so for an abridged version, consider the following: Suppose you had one shot to convince a room full of people to accept your position on some controversial issue. Suppose you want to convince them one way or another about the proper policy on gun control or abortion. Do you think you could come up with a perfect message—even suppose you have the most eloquent speaker in the world doing the talking for you or that you present them a video with your persuasive message directed by Steven Spielberg himself—do you think you will be able to sway every single person in that room to agree with your position? Of course not. It would be foolish to think otherwise. People’s belief systems, tastes, opinions, and preferences are shaped by a combination of factors like life experiences, upbringing, education, socialization among friends, and a whole lot of our personal, innate, psychological hard wiring. A single message, no matter how well constructed, will not immediately cut through and neutralize all of those other factors. As advertising professionals will always say, the most common type of ad is the one that people ignore. 

 

Therefore, it is unfortunate that people making films and TV shows today don’t seem to understand this. Or, perhaps they are so arrogant as to believe they will be the ones to come up with that perfect magic bullet message that will have direct, immediate, and powerful uniform effects on every single audience member.

 

I bring this up in light of realizing that the most compelling and entertaining aspect of observing the film industry these days is to witness some of its  most spectacular failures in both theatrical releases and streaming series. And some of these megaton bombs are coming from franchises that have decades-long track records of success and global name recognition. These are intellectual properties that have absolutely no excuse to fail. These are films like the recent “Joker,” based on the most iconic villain in the Batman universe and the sequel to the 2019 blockbuster that made over a billion dollars. Or films in the Marvel Cinematic Universe that have been barely breaking even—as in most of the films in their Phase 4—or turned out to be a spectacular, embarrassing failure like 2023’s “The Marvels.” 

 

And any mention of Marvel films brings the focus to the owner of Marvel studios: Walt Disney Studios. Disney, which also owns Lucasfilm, has made an art form out of trashing the franchises they bought and antagonizing their core fan base. Since acquiring Lucasfilm in 2012, Disney still has not turned a profit from the deal, despite the fact that there is probably no human being on the face of the Earth who hasn’t heard of Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader, Han Solo, Princess Leia, or the rebels’ fight against the Galactic Empire. You would also be hard pressed to find anyone who has never heard of Indiana Jones. One almost needs to try really, really hard to not be successful if handed such properties to continue exploiting. Disney, however, has managed to turn pure gold into absolute trash. “Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny” was an insult to fans, turning the iconic hero into a bumbling old fool who is repeatedly insulted, tricked, and proven wrong in the entire film by the most annoying character in all Lucasfilm history since Jar Jar Binx. The “Star Wars” films made by Disney made significantly less and less money with each outing at the box office. Their stand-alone film “Solo” was the first “Star Wars” film to ever lose money and their slew of “Star Wars” shows made for Disney+ have completely lost their luster since the strong debut of “The Mandalorian” in 2019. Then the latest “Star Wars” Disney+ series, “The Acolyte,” was a ratings disaster, enraging fans with its assaults on logic, basic story-telling craft, and the entire lore of the series. Curious to see what the controversy was about, I watched the entire first, and thankfully last, season of “The Acolyte” and I concur with all of the angry fans. The show was an abysmal pile of garbage, a waste of the electricity it takes to run your TV or power your computer while you’re streaming it. 

 

Part of the problem with all of these franchises that are suddenly failing is that they appear to be made by people who are either ignorant of their properties’ history or they outright hate them. Disney has made no secret of the fact that it now prefers writers on Marvel and “Star Wars” properties to be unfamiliar with the past of these films and TV shows. “The Acolyte” creator and showrunner Leslye Headland repeatedly said that she hired her staff based on how little they knew of George Lucas’ original film. The show then proceeded to turn the Jedi in both a collection of bungling idiots and fanatical child-kidnappers. Moreover, the entire series subverted the entire moral philosophy of “Star Wars” by declaring that good and evil didn’t exist and right and wrong are merely points of view. If Headland and her crew would have actually seen and paid attention to the original “Star Wars” films, they would have known that such moral relativism was the complete antithesis of the franchise. The very point of the Force in “Star Wars” was to function as a metaphor for the idea that there were such things as an objective universal good and an objective evil, or the light side and the dark side. Furthermore, “Star Wars” was about the need to have the strength of character to choose good over evil, no matter how hard it might sometimes be or how much needs to be sacrificed.

 

Which brings me back the Magic Bullet theory. How can Hollywood studios keep turning out films that betray their own core cannon or make films that mock and deride their fans? They think they can get away with this if they spend enough money on massive ad campaigns—the Magic Bullet. Make the TV ads, trailers, and various promotional materials slick enough and loud enough, Hollywood’s thinking seems to say, and audiences will turn off all their reasoning faculties immediately and obediently sit and consume product that insults them, made by people who hate them. Except that is not working and Hollywood studios are deservedly losing billions of dollars as a result.