I, Vampirella

Well, gang, Harris Comics has recruited yours truly to embody their iconic ball-buster, Vampirella. Slipping into the trademark Band-Aid threads, I posed for Steve Parke (www.imagecarnival.com ), one of the country's most sterling photographers. I'll initially premiere as the femme fatale on the forthcoming front cover of "Vampirella" magazine (scheduled to hit newsstands by the time the winter thaws). In the meantime, I'm posing for additional Vampi photos that will tie-in to more Harris commerce. Gotta keep a lid on the details and, unfortunately, we're prohibited from posting pictures in advance of the magazine's debut; however, I'll exclusively update ReallyScary on all further developments.

The Renewal of Hammer's credo: Bosoms and Bogeywomen

I feed a collection of (female) resin sculptures, though I'm consistently disappointed whenever the likeness of an actress is half-assed; as an example, I've rejected two sculptures of Caroline Munro because the faces hardly matched Caroline's classic beauty. Well, the legacy of the Hammer honeys will be preserved thanks to indie company, Gothic Arts. The company's prez, Stewart Jackson, has transplanted his adulation of Hammer glamour into his art (i.e. resin busts and sculptures). The verdict: Gothic Arts rocks, trouncing their competition. The company's initial Hammer homage has been flawlessly rendered into "Scarlet Rebirth," a stunning replica of Yutte Stensgaard, as "Carmilla Karnstein," from LUST FOR A VAMPIRE. The sculpture is impassionately molded into a picture-perfect likeness of a freshly resurrected Stensgaard (head to waist), her nightgown sensuously peeling from her left bosom. The bust is erected on the top surface of a sarcophagus, complete with separate nameplate (actually, a scroll that has been unfolded to reveal the film's title). The meticulous detail includes not only the fangs but proportionately molded teeth, ruffled strands of locks cascading across the shoulders and arresting, hypnotic retinas,. To be succinct, "Scarlet Rebirth"-an unpainted 1/3 resin kit-is a masterpiece. The craftsmanship is further buttressed by the castings, courtesy of Mark Brokaw (Earthbound Studios). Price is $150.00 (domestic shipping included).

Gothic Arts also wrapped "The General's Revenge," a resin shrine to THE VAMPIRE LOVERS: a sword-wielding General von Spielsdorf (Peter Cushing) gets a grip on the decapitated head of his bloodlusting nemesis, Carmilla Karnstein (played by Ingrid Pitt; the aforementioned Yutte Stensgaard was heir to the role in the sequel, LUST FOR A VAMPIRE). I've seen photos of the prototype and, trust me, this tableau is a very worthy companion piece to Scarlet Rebirth. The likenesses of Cushing and Pitt are on the money (I certainly intend to add this piece, next paycheck, to my archive).

Mr. Jackson is currently developing a resin kit for Hammer's third installment of the Karnstein trilogy, TWINS OF EVIL: and, yes, I'll keep you posted (never mind that Katya Wyeth played Countess Karnstein in little more than a cameo; Stewart, please render both Collinson Twins-Mary and Madeleine-into your sculpture).

Keep in mind that each resin kit is produced in extremely limited edition Send money order or inquiries directly to:

Gothic Arts, Limited
1812 Marsh Road
STE 6, PMB 176
Wilmington, DE-19810
e-mail: gothicarts@verizon.net

Remember, these sculptures should be reserved for the living room, not your hobby quarters (I've concealed "Scarlet Rebirth," see photo, within a glass trophy container).

Best and Worst of 2003
Girl watch for 2004 (Simmone Mackinnon/Lara Croft?)

Okay, I'm not going to redundantly post another "Top 10" barometer of the best/worst from last year (it's all subjective, anyway. But if you haven't seen RETURN OF THE KING more than once, you suck: even worse, you probably think that Ted Kennedy and Barney Gumble are not the same person. Get out of here and outta my life). So I abridged my original choice of 54 categories down to two-

"Worst film of 2003" is definitely HALLOW'S END. This is something about a makeshift funhouse that "possesses" a clique of overage adolescents . The diabolic figure turns out to be gruff 'ole Pumpkin Jack, played by an untrained geezer who looked like he'd have a rough time improvising dialogue as a department store Santa. Pat Robertson's bar tab probably exceeds the budget of this impoverished stinker. C'mon, if I want to sit through a home movie, I'll watch my Aunt Ida's 8mm "rest stop" odyssey en route to the Grand Canyon: the direction, acting and dialogue are infinitely more professional.

"Hottest Genre Newcomer" is Simmone Mackinnon, the hotty who heated-up a lame Sci Fi Channel quickie called DARK WATERS. The script, which grave robbed from DEEP BLUE SEA, often contrived for Mackinnon to strip-off her blouse, run through water sprinklers or shrink her wardrobe down to a bikini: it was a smart distraction from the derivative script and co-star Lorenzo Lamas (I'm speculating this guy's career will lean on reality shows). And, unlike a legion of bombshells, this Australian thespian can act! Hell, Simmone even eclipses Francesca Rettondini, the Jessica Rabbit incarnation from GHOST SHIP. Bottom line: Ms. Mackinnon should have been cast as Lara Croft (By the way, Mackinnon was actually cast in a past genre film, PYTHON II. But if she'd prefer to forget this film, so will I).

Regarding your e-mails about "Best Actress," here's my vote: Best (Movie) Actress is Charlize Theron (not that MONSTER is especially revelatory, I've admired her histrionic skills since THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE). Best (TV) Actress is Patricia Heaton (not just a comedienne, no way. Cast on the RAYMOND sitcom, she's pioneered the TV housefrau from "wacky surf" to matriarch).

FILM BOOKS (SCI-FI HORROR) for 2004

I routinely report on the film medium; however, during the Holiday season, I was burdened with rampant flu (still recovering!). Turning to the printed page-and exiling slick studio product camouflaged as "The Making of" books-I included the following volumes in my home library...

"The Immortal Count: The Life and Times of Bela Lugosi" by Arthur Lennig

A jaw-dropper. As a juvenile, writer Arthur Lennig rendezvoused with his screen idol. But the author's biography of the horror icon is so meticulously detailed, you'd swear that Lennig and Lugosi were bosom buddies for most of the actor's career. Example: demythologizing the "legend" behind Tim Burtons's ED WOOD, Lennig enlightens us to the poignancy of a scene that was allied to fact. The movie's Lugosi (aptly played as a disciplined actor by Martin Landau), appearing on a "live" TV series, fudges his lines when the comedic headliner abruptly ad-libs dialogue. I thought this incident was one of the film's embellishments (not unlike the climactic scene when Wood is pumped by an impromptu meeting with Orson Welles). Lennig, however, draws similarities to the real Lugosi's guest stint on THE RED SKELTON SHOW.

Lennig foreshadows the erosion of Lugosi's celebrity with a chronicle of career-crippling vignettes, e.g. the actor declining the role the FRANKENSTEIN monster...Lugosi would have reprised his indelible vampire role in DRACULA'S DAUGHTER but censorial watchdogs gauged his scripted scenes as objectionable...his dialogue in FRANKENSTEIN MEETS THE WOLFMAN was exiled to the cutting room floor..his descent from Universal to Monogram's poverty row quickies (incidentally, in regard to the latter, I wasn't so much disgusted by THE APE MAN's fade-out scene as bewildered by it. I think the same ending should be tacked-on to just about anything directed by Oliver Stone). But Lennig's text is bereft of a "National Enquirer" titillation; you can genuinely feel the writer's pain when he recounts his idol's professional and personal handicaps.

My only qualm is that Lennig's unbridled affection for Lugosi sometimes taints his impartiality. He's pissed that Lugosi wasn't cast as Dr. Pretorius in THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN: "If Lugosi played Pretorius, he would have been a more sinister force in wresting Dr. Frankenstein from the embrace of his wife...and would have toned down the humor, which disappointed some audiences looking forward to a more a more serious sequel to the original film." And that's the problem: Lugosi would have toned down the humor. The actor's memorable line in DRACULA-"I never drink...wine!" is funny because of its irony and the pregnant pause locked between "drink" and "wine." But could Lugosi be equally impacting with a paradoxical line in BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN?: "Do you like wine? It's my only weakness." Personally, I think Lugosi would have projected a pretty generic (i.e. "straight") reading, especially compared to Ernest Thesiger, the actor cast as Pretorius. Thesiger's fruitty capriciousness-think Franklin Pangborn crossed with Maggie Smith-subverted Lugosi's patented "madness"with a fey panache. Though laden with black humor, I doubt that BRIDE disappointed audiences: a commercial success, the film's horror content prompted U.S. censors to scissor scenes.

Lennig also randomly presumes that the wife of director Edgar Ulmer (THE BLACK CAT) recounts disparaging stories about the actor because "perhaps Bela didn't flirt with her and she was offended." S'cuse me? Acquitting Lugosi with sexist speculation hardly counts as credibility.

But, bottom line, "The Immortal Count" is one of best screen biographies I've ever read. Exempting Shawn Levy's "King of Comedy," Lennig's book is the only screen bio that I've read more than once-and I'm certain that I'll be revisiting it, once again, sometime this week. It's an exhaustively researched tragedy that, although compassionately written, doesn't sink into hyperbole (sad but intriguing is a family feud that erupted after the actor's death: source of the squabble involved licensing the actor's "Dracula" image. At least these profiteering contretemps insured Lugosi's longevity past the new millennium). The book is a wake-up call for morons whose perception of the horror icon is drawn from a "ham actor" stereotype or stand-up comic impersonations. (The University Press of Kentucky)

"Hollywood's Stephen King" by Tony Magistrale

Okay, I think Stephen King is pretty cool: my Dad, who met him back in1979 at a Baltimore book signing, described the author as "a communicative and patient man. I would have liked to swing down a couple of sakes with him." My problem is with film critics, all of whom are obliged to gauge Stanley Kubrick's THE SHINING as "the definitive adaptation of a King novel." Get a life, pinheads! Kubrick's film is a self-indulgent Hallmark card to Kubrick, who was predisposed to dismiss horror films as bluecollar pablum. THE SHINING is the BARRY LYNDON of horror movies (Kubrick also directed the latter, a leaden picture-perfect postcard forged from vanity). I much prefer the SHINING remake (1997), specifically the ABC miniseries that's undiluted King. Upon picking-up a copy of "Hollywood's Stephen King," I impulsively presumed that author Tony Magistrale would climb aboard the U.S.S. KissKubrick'sAss. I was wrong: an admirer of the director, Magistrale's analysis of the (1980) SHINING is more enlightening than the movie. And, hey, Magistrale detests Shelley Duvall's casting as "Wendy Torrance" almost as much as I do. Kubrick translated the King character into a whimpering, lily-livered milksop whose timidity is no less perilous to her offspring's health than her husband's tyranny (remember, we're talkin' Kubrick, whose misogyny was unbridled in CLOCKWORK ORANGE; not surprisingly, his interpretation of [re]birth, in 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY, is entirely bereft of female intervention). Furthermore, unlike critics who patronized Mick Garris' SHINING miniseries with comparisons to Kubrick's confection, Magistrale lauds the merits of the remake ("Until its finale, the film is one of the best made-for-television adaptations of any Stephen King novel."). Granted, there's a lapse of plausibility in the conclusion when an unconstrained Jack Torrance abruptly declines to dispose of Wendy, but I cried buckets when-in an appended scene not in the novel-Jack's ghost appears at his son's graduation. (Guess I can relate to King's admission, i.e. "I'm a sentimentalist at heart."). And, in contrast to Kubrick's translation of the character, Rebecca De Mornay's "Wendy" literally kicks her abusive spouse in the balls (notes Magistrale, "The imminent threat to her child motivates her to action"). One more thing about the remake: I prefer Steven Weber's performance as Jack Torrance over Jack Nicholson's navigation of the same role. Weber incrementally yields to psychosis and an alcoholic addiction, provoking both disgust and compassion: Nicholson, who's inexplicably cuckoo even before his seduction by the Overlook's influences, hardly draws sympathy.

Good, got that off my chest. Anyway, Magistrale offers a balanced and unpretentious appraisal of the King canon, i.e. movies and miniseries adapted from the author's work. While lauding IT ("Of all the telefilms adapted from King's fiction, it's arguably the most faithful rendition of the novel that inspired it"), Magistrale is critical of SALEM'S LOT because it adheres only to the novel's supernatural milieu (exempting one couple's infidelity, the 1979 miniseries ignores the book's exposition, i.e. the decadent milieu that makes the community so vulnerable to the seduction of evil. Magistrale also notes that King's Father Callahan character, who demonstratively typifies the town's moral devolvement, is reduced in the miniseries to almost a cameo). And the miniseries, notes Magistrale, turns King's vampiric Barlow-a "highly articulate" sophisticate-into a "silent nosferatu" (I remember the late Robert Bloch telling my Dad that the miniseries, and it's aborted weekly spin-off, was plagued with censorship problems. Presumably, the SALEM'S LOT remake will resist these transgressions; for one thing, hunky Rutger Hauer has been cast as Barlow. Bite me, Rutger-please!).

Magistrale explores King's recurring motifs (misfits, dysfunctional families, malevolent machines, et al) and informs if the crossover to film is successful or a cropper (the book was written before the made-for-TV CARRIE debuted: I suspect that Magistrale would have seriously buttkicked the movie, especially its shameful finale). Footnote: Read the writer's supportive critique of THE NIGHT FLIER, perhaps the most underrated of King's adaptations (Magistrale pretty much ignores the inferior CHILDREN OF THE CORN-then again, who can blame him?). Highly recommended reading. (Palgrave Macmillan)

"John Carpenter: The Prince of Darkness" by Gilles Boulenger

"William Friedkin: Films of Aberration, Obsession & Reality" by Thomas D. Clagett

A few weeks ago, I perused a dated interview with the late Herman Cohen, a producer of drive-in filler memorable only for the catchpenny titles (I WAS A TEENAGE WEREWOLF, I WAS A TEENAGE FRANKENSTEIN, HORRORS OF BLACK MUSEUM, yadda-yadda). The interviewer discreetly but unflatteringly alluded to one of Cohen's films, TROG. Never mind that the movie blew chunks; Cohen defensively exploded into a rage and abruptly ended the interview.

John Carpenter, interviewed by Gilles Boulenger, isn't provoked into hysterics; that's because John Carpenter is his own worse critic. He recounts that he was "treated like slime" when THE THING nosedived at the boxoffice (fired by the studio, he "was the guy who was doing this kind of pornographic violence."): apprising CHRISTINE, Carpenter admits, "...good or bad, I know in my heart I fucked it up because I was still wounded from THE THING": he eulogizes MEMOIRS OF AN INVISIBLE MAN as "a noble try but a failure": though BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA would later draw audiences upon its transition to video (not to mention last year's licensing for action figures), Carpenter acknowledges "The critics and the public thought it was just bad, and there is nothing I can about that."

Carpenter candidly addresses his own work as a filmmaker, not a corporate stooge, and his honesty is nothing less than gutsy. I always thought that Carpenter, not unlike Joe Dante, was in his prime when squeezing product out of boa-constrictive budgets. Matter of fact, Carpenter's ASSAULT ON PRECINCT 13-indisputably, one of the Ten Best B-Films ever produced-"was made with acquaintances and friends mostly from USC." And as a result of HALLOWEEN's budget constraints, there were "no sequences left on the cutting room floor. Everything we shot was in the movie." But upon "graduating" to Hollywood's more mainstream commerce, Carpenter had to compromise his vision with demographics, previews and pruning choice scenes to accelerate the pace. Later returning to the indie circuit, Carpenter was afforded "total freedom" when he directed PRINCE OF DARKNESS for a comparative shoestring budget ($3 million). "Critics hated PRINCE OF DARKNESS at least as much as THE THING," recalls the director. "People still deride the movie today. I remain unrepentant." Again, it's Carpenter as an artist, not a merchant.

Boulenger pitches perceptive questions, forfeiting fanboy fluffballs. This is the stuff that's missing from DVD commentaries: sandwiched between his criteria, we learn about Carpenter's personal life (i.e. bonding with his son), the unrealized projects (I love the core idea behind HALLOWEEN 3, which could have been further developed by Nigel Kneale and the aforementioned Joe Dante), etc. The book, profusely illustrated, pulls no punches-and neither does Mr. Carpenter. One footnote: Carpenter reveals that he would love to make a sequel to THE THING ("I have a great story, which starts off with the two characters we left in the end. But nobody is going to make it because it would cost so much money..."). As a result of belated fan canonization, a THING sequel finally debuted last year: but, as another compromise, it materialized as a video game (its "surprise ending" discloses that MacReady survived the first film). (Silman-James Press)

Footnote: Silman-James, publishers of "Carpenter...Prince of Darkness," offer another compelling book with "William Friedkin: Films of Aberration, Obsession and Reality." Readers of this column will savor the behind-the-scenes chronicle on production of THE EXORCIST.

Contenders for the coveted role of "Chris MacNeil" included Jane Fonda, Shirley MacLaine and Audrey Hepburn (Friedkin's first choice was Carol Burnett!): Bernard Herrmann was the original choice to score the music (Friedkin literally threw away Lalo Schifrin's score, which was partially recycled for THE AMITYVILLE HORROR). The book's author, Thomas D. Clagett, estimates that the 1973 release is "possibly the best film of the decade" (it was snubbed at the Oscars); nevertheless Clagett is critical of Friedkin's failures ("Friedkin has stated," notes Clagett, "that there are only three major reasons to make movies: to make people laugh, cry or frighten them"; however. the director's style of realism proved especially anathema to comedy). Points to Clagett for some clarity regarding THE GUARDIAN, Friedkin's critically vilified 1990 release that was butchered for cable (the film's original ending was completely aborted, lamely opting for logic over the film's supernatural subtext).

Twenty-seven years after the debut of THE EXORCIST, Friedkin finally hit paydirt-with the reissue of THE EXORCIST. The film is still so potent that the trailer for its 2000 revival was censored by the MPAA (though devoid of nudity, violence and profanity, the film's "coming attractions" were branded as "too intense"!). Reviewing the reissued THE EXORCIST, USA Today aptly summarized Friedkin's legacy: "Seeing THE EXORCIST on the big screen is a reminder that once upon a time in a braver sort of Hollywood, the horror genre was not just the domain of horny adolescents stalked by psychos. Terror could be adult, intelligent, artful even." Though THE FRENCH CONNECTION is spared depreciation, Clagett's criticism of Friedkin's post-EXORCIST films is valid: but, bottom line, Friedkin's "instinctive" direction of THE EXORCIST is the work of a Renaissance Man, and the film has overshadowed the memory of a past generation's movies (THE EXORCIST lost the "Best Picture" Oscar ['73] to THE STING. Does anyone remember that trifle?).

One more thing: did you know that Jackie Gleason was "seriously considered" for the Popeye Doyle role in THE FRENCH CONNECTION? A little travellin' music.....

Footnote: I'm trying to enjoy "Organ Donor," a horror novel by Matthew Warner. Unfortunately, this pleasure is forfeited by rampant flu--it's tough to stick with even a linear plot when medication prompts one to drift into hibernation. But it's extremely promising, what with some homage to Boileau and Narcejac ("Choice Cuts") and maybe MAD LOVE. Warner's agent should dispatch a copy to David Cronenberg. I'm resistant to reading reviews, I prefer to be surprised. But one friend informed me that "after a gruesome exposition, the book shifts from sci-fi to the Grand Guignol." I can't wait to find out for myself! I'll elaborate in next month's column.

My time is almost up. Next time, I'll offer a preview of Red Hot Planet, a hybrid of hard news and hot babes (the latter linked to the Horror/Fantasy/Sci-Fi Cinemas). And I'll be back to form with exclusive "Really Scary" interviews. Special thanks to Mike Hodge for the jim-dandy movies! I'll be back next month; in the meantime, let's convene at www.scifidiva.com