Octaman (1971)

One of special f/x maestro and multiple Oscar-winner Rick Baker’s early efforts and one that he’d probably like most of us to forget, which might account for its relative obscurity.  Come on, Rick, we love your limb-swinging creation as it stumbles along attacking a crew (headed by former Sinbad Kerwin Mathews) investigating the effects of pollution and radiation on a small Hispanic village – where’s the double-disc special edition?  With writer/director Harry Essex taking more than a few pages from the Creature from the Black Lagoon playbook, the eight-legged cephalopod wonder takes a fancy to Mathews’ sexy gal pal Pier Angeli and before long is stumbling throughout the Mexican countryside trying to capture her.  Even at a measly 76 minutes, this is a clunker of the highest order, made all the more interminable by a superfluous spelunking scene that advances the plot not one iota.  Even as a throwback to the 50s “man in a suit” flicks, this is pretty suckery, er, sucky stuff.

Of Unknown Origin (1983)

Before Buckaroo Banzai, Robocop, or… (um, what was after Robocop?  Leviathan?  Screamers?  Hmmm…), Peter Weller starred in this “urban thriller” as an upwardly mobile materialistic yuppie scum who suddenly has to do battle with an inordinately large and hostile rat that has invaded his fancy schmancy Brownstone condo.  However, on the plus side, he also gets to frolic with a naked Shannon Tweed (1982 Playmate of the Year) in her first film role.  George Cosmatos (Rambo, Tombstone) does an admirable job of keeping the stakes high and the rat puppet concealed.  While rarely mentioned these days and oft under the radar, it’s not a bad little time-waster (and now available on DVD).

Old Dark House, The  (1932)

Almost forgotten in the Universal collection of horrors, this gem of a flick is often overshadowed by its more popular brethren.  Director James Whale’s follow-up to Frankenstein is well worth seeking out for its sheer atmospheric wackiness and gale-force acting from the entire ensemble, several of whom would turn up again for Whale in Bride of Frankenstein.  Boris Karloff receives star billing as the mute shuffling butler hulking about the titular Pemm mansion, Ernest Thesiger (Bride’s Dr. Pretorius) and Eva Moore play out a quibbling sibling rivalry as the occupants, and Brember Wills turns in an electrifying performance as their pyromaniac brother Saul.  A wonderfully photographed rainstorm assembles a curious collection of stranded travelers (the stellar cast includes Charles Laughton, Gloria Stuart, Raymond Massey, and Melvyn Douglas) at the Pemm estate, and madness and mayhem ensue.  While not especially scary, there is atmosphere to burn, endlessly quotable dialogue, with each performance is juicier than the next and the energy never flagging.  When the end credits roll, one feels the exhausted thrill of a wild amusement park ride.

Omen, The (2006)

The word “pointless” seems to come up a lot when one reads the reviews on this remake, one of the few times in history where a calendar date (6/6/06) has dictated a picture’s greenlight status.  It’s not a terrible movie, but it is so faithful to the 1976 pic (with David Seltzer updating his own screenplay) that one has to wonder why even bother?  If you’ve seen the original more than once, then the redux becomes extremely tedious.  We as the audience sit there going, “Uh huh, then this happens, then this happens, then this…” and we are never, ever surprised (although the photographer’s wing-zing and the cemetery dog attack did manage to bring a smile to my weary eyes.)  Liev Schreiber and Julia Stiles lack the gravitas and star power that Gregory Peck and Lee Remick brought to their roles, and elfin Mia Farrow can’t touch Billie Whitelaw’s chilling portrayal of nanny-from-Hell, Mrs. Baylock.  (I love the idea that she’s married.)  Armed with nothing more potent than a few flashy dream sequences and CGI, this feels like a film made for viewers with a prejudice against watching anything made more than 25 years ago.  The idea that there might be horror fans out there like that is scarier than anything onscreen.

Onibaba (1964)

Kaneto Shindo’s allegorical fable, examining the fate of two widows in 16th century Japan, is a masterpiece of horror conjured from everyday life.  Left to fend for themselves while the men are at war, a mother (Nobuko Otowa) and her daughter-in-law (Jitsuko Yoshimura) survive by ambushing wandering soldiers and selling their armor for food.  When a lusty neighbor (Kei Sato) returns home with news that their son/husband has been slain in battle, a tension-filled triangle is formed – one rife with shifting alliances and rising passions.   But it is the appearance of a lone, demon mask-wearing samurai one night that sets off a terrifying chain of events, resulting in the unforgettable, nail-biting conclusion. While not a fright flick in the traditional sense, Shindo’s dynamic staging of the susuki field as a living, undulating entity creates a palpable atmosphere of unquelled longing, and desperation, aided immeasurably by Kiyomi Kuroda’s gorgeous b/w cinematography and Hikaru Hayashi’s stellar jazz soundtrack (which surprisingly never seems out of place in this medieval setting).  The iconic demon mask was reportedly the inspiration for the flashing imagery in William Friedkin’s The Exorcist.

Other, The (1972)

Dark southern Gothic tale where the horrors occur in the daylight, and at the hands of a child.  The setup of two twins – one evil, one good – has been done more than a few times, but under the director of Robert Mulligan, the kids never seem like mini-adults.  Here, the needs and wants that drive “evil” Holland (and force his “good” brother to cover up for him) are simple, at time whimsical, and it is this that makes his heinous crimes all the more chilling.  Adapted by Tom Tryon from his own novel, there are more than a few twists here; some you’ll see coming, some will knock you sideways.  The cast includes Broadway legend Uta Hagen (outstanding as grandmother Ada), Victor French as a hapless handyman, as well as a very young John Ritter.