Peeping Tom (1960) 

Michael Powell’s brilliant examination of voyeurism and the human desire to look but not be seen looking.  A lovely neighbor (Anna Massey) strikes up a tentative romance with her landlord, a handsome but painfully shy cameraman (Carl Boehm), unaware of his murderous compulsions.  Here is a film about watching in a medium intended to be watched, not passively, but actively.  As a director, Powell understood audiences’ voyeuristic tendencies as one of the primary reasons behind our fascination with motion pictures.  Observe the countless references to looking and seeing and watching – there is even a blind character that “sees” more than others.  Additionally, and perhaps most damagingly, Powell offers up a psychopathic murderer as our protagonist, asking viewers to not only sympathize, but also identify with him (much as Hitchcock would the same year, albeit much more slyly, with Psycho).  Not surprisingly, 1960 audiences weren’t prepared for this kind of brazen, confrontational honesty, and the picture was not just shunned, but run out of town on a rail.  For years, Peeping Tom lurked in the shadows, referenced by many, but seen by few.  Happily, the film has been reappraised by a new generation of critics and audiences, and now holds its rightful station as a cutting edge masterpiece.  Trivia:  That is Powell himself playing Mark’s father in the home movie footage. 

People Under the Stairs, The  (1991)

The cinematic equivalent of having your obnoxious older brother constantly hiding around the corner shouting “Boo!”  While it may occasionally startle, it never really scares (and gets really annoying very quickly).  Wes Craven’s urban haunted house yarn, structured on legitimate fairy tale elements (poor young protagonist tries to save his family by stealing treasure from ogre-like monsters) seems to take itself seriously at first.  But as the movie grows increasingly cartoonish, it becomes impossible to take at face value and while some viewers may go along for the ride, the majority will simply glare at the screen in annoyance.  As the young hero named “Fool,” Brandon Adams does his best, but is never quite up to the task of carrying the movie.  Ving Rhames has a small part as the thug who engages Adams to burglarize his landlord’s house and steal a rare coin collection.  The lion’s share of the work is left to “Twin Peaks” alumni Wendy Robie and Everett McGill, whose demented brother-sister team (calling themselves “Mommy” and “Daddy”) whoop it up a lot.  A little of their grotesque, high-decibel caricatures goes a long way, and by the time McGill dons a leather S & M suit and starts blasting away with his ever-loading shotgun, you’ll be looking for the remote.  On the plus side, the house itself is an impressive creation with endless pathways within the walls and doors that lead every which way.  Though Craven’s depiction of life in the ghetto never comes anywhere close to “da ‘hood,” the attempt at ethnic diversity in horror is admirable. 

Phantom of the Opera, The  (1925)

Superb silent screen version of Gaston Leroux’s famous novel, with Lon Chaney turning in the definitive portrayal of the disfigured, love-stricken Erik.  Lurking in underground passages beneath the Paris Opera House and hopelessly smitten with Mary Philbin’s songstress, Chaney conspires to eliminate her rival in order that his protégé may gain success and return his adoration.  Several classic moments are on display here, including a startling color sequence of the Phantom entering the masquerade ball as the Red Death.  The unforgettable unmasking scene remains one of the most renowned moments in cinema, and over eighty years later, it still manages to shock.  Chaney’s skill with makeup is on full display here, creating a hideous skull-like countenance with the aid of wires that pulled back his nostrils and enlarged his eyes.  His performance is equally breathtaking: tender and loving, then a snarling, vengeful beast.  The rest of the characters, however, are far less fascinating, and it’s no wonder that Chaney runs away with the film.  Philbin’s selfish diva is particularly unsympathetic, betraying her benefactor right and left, perpetually doing exactly what asked not to do, and what she sees in Norman Kerry’s sop of a suitor, heaven only knows.  Still, the film looks gorgeous with its outstanding sets and art direction, from the stunning opulence of the opera house to the dark murky surroundings of Erik’s watery underground lair.  Chaney’s final moments of confrontation with the outraged, torch-bearing mob are nothing short of sublime.

Phantom of the Paradise  (1974)

Two years before he emerged as a star filmmaker with Carrie, De Palma concocted this comedy/horror re-working of Phantom of the Opera.  When enigmatic studio magnate Swan (Paul Williams, in a stroke of inspired casting) steals aspiring composer William Finley’s rock opera version of Faust, the spurned tunesmith swears vengeance.  As he attempts to sabotage the Death Records offices, Finley’s face and vocal cords are destroyed in a horrific record pressing accident, transforming him into a masked freak haunting Swan’s new rock opera house, the Paradise.  Walking a fine satirical line between horror and farce, the movie explodes out of the gates with fierce comic bravado, riding the energy of its rollicking musical numbers (penned by Williams).  Unfortunately, the film cannot sustain its momentum and eventually wears out its welcome, despite the best efforts of De Palma’s characteristic swirling camerawork and game cast.  Jessica Harper makes her film debut as the unlikeliest rock starlet ever, Gerrit Graham gives a fine fruity performance as Beef, Swan’s newest protégé, and you gotta love those Juicy Fruits!  Despite numerous pointed allusions to the sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll lifestyle (not to mention a few bloody bits), the film received a PG rating when released.

Phenomena (aka Creepers) (1985)

This may be the only “insect detective” movie out there on the shelves.  A very young Jennifer Connelly appears as the daughter of a famous American movie star sent away to study at an exclusive Swiss girl’s academy, whose students just happen to be falling victim to a homicidal killer.  But as this is an Argento movie, things are hardly what they seem.  The film opens at a full gallop, with an extremely stylish sequence of a young woman in peril, then slows down to introduce Connelly’s character and her uncanny relationship with insects.  Those familiar with Donald Pleasance primarily for his increasingly loony portrayals of Dr. Loomis in the Halloween series should check out his fine, subdued work here as a wheelchair-bound entomologist.  Usually one with a fine ear for scoring his films, Argento elects for a song score composed of outside recording artists (including Bill Wyman, Motorhead, and Goblin), and while much of it works, it often calls attention to itself rather than accenting the onscreen action (particularly with Iron Maiden’s offerings).  The very strong opening half hour is followed by a middle section riddled with kinetic fits and starts, and the bizarre, gory ending has “kitchen sink” written all over it.  While it may be a bit much for the uninitiated, those accustomed to Argento’s lack of narrative logic and flair for the unexpected will enjoy the ride.  Originally released in the U. S. as Creepers in a criminally edited version, rendering an already challenging film nearly incoherent.

Piranha  (1978)

“Lost River Lake.  Terror.  Horror.  Death.  Film at Eleven.”  Under the Roger Corman umbrella, Joe Dante’s career was launched with this spoof/ripoff of Jaws, featuring lots of bubbles, fish puppets, and gallons of fake blood.  When an abandoned military experiment dubbed “Operation Razor Teeth” is accidentally released into a Texas stream, it’s up to chipper tracker Heather Menzies and grumpy mountain man Bradford Dillman to save the day.  Despite its miniscule budget, these killer guppies deliver as many screams as laughs with a terrific knowing script by first-timer John Sayles and zippy direction by Dante.  They are aided by a groovy supporting cast of screen veterans on hand to give their blessing (and flesh) to the cause, including Kevin McCarthy, Keenan Wynn, Dick Mille,r and a tired-looking Barbara Steele.  Phil Tippet provided the not-bad-at-all creature effects with assistance from seventeen-year-old Rob Bottin on makeup detail.  How can you not love a flick that actually sics a school of piranha on a summer camp of kids?  Sick and wrong, and loads of fun. 

Pit and the Pendulum, The  (1961)

This Richard Matheson adaptation of the classic tale is the second of Roger Corman’s AIP reworkings of Poe, and it works like a well-oiled torture device.  Beautifully shot, with no-holds-barred acting by Vincent Price at his paranoid best, this starts off at a trot and builds to a fever pitch.  Price is confronted by his late wife’s brother, who shows up wanting to know the details of his sister’s recent death.  Soon, it is revealed that Price’s father was a torturer for the Inquisition, and has left all of his (heh-heh-heh) toys in the nether regions of the castle.  Hmmm, do you think we’ll get to see them in action before the sun goes down?  Despite the fact that the much of the film is simply a reworking of House of Usher (family secrets, moldering mansion, premature burials), it all comes together surprisingly well. The gorgeous set design is by Daniel Haller.  Horror fans will delight at seeing horror queen Barbara Steele’s name in the credits, although she doesn’t appear until the final reel.  But what an appearance! The final shot is the stuff that nightmares are made of.  A real treat, not to be missed.

Planet of the Vampires  (1965)

From the skilled lens of Italian maestro Mario Bava comes this atmospheric blend of science fiction and horror, all the more impressive considering its tiny budget.  When a paired team of spaceships respond to a distress signal on a supposedly deserted planet (a plot device that would resurface in Ridley Scott’s Alien), the crews violently and inexplicably attack each other upon landing.  Square-jawed captain Barry Sullivan eventually discovers the truth:  The alien world is occupied by invisible parasites which possess the ability to reanimate the dead, using the corpses as hosts.  Borrowing elements of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Sullivan’s team members are killed and zombified one by one, provoking paranoia and distrust among the survivors.  Though the ship’s interior often resembles an empty warehouse and the acting ranges from stiff to melodramatic, the real marvel here is watching Bava spin straw into gold.  Using his trademark colored filters and endless clouds of dry ice, he manages to create a mood of palpable dread amidst the Styrofoam rocks and set.  Designer Gabriele Mayer’s skin-tight black leather costumes lend an appropriately futuristic look while showing off the curves of the voluptuous female crew members, who somehow manage to contain their prodigious hairstyles beneath matching skull caps.  A low-budget gem, topped off with a satisfying doom-and-gloom conclusion.

Poltergeist  (1982)

Though the debate rages on as to who directed what (credited helmer Tobe Hooper or 800 lb. screenwriter/producer Steven Spielberg), the result is an E-ticket haunted house ride of laughs, scares, thrills, and chills.  JoBeth Williams and Craig T. Nelson are engaging as a textbook suburban family, complete with three kids, family dog, and wonderful home—which proves to be not so wonderful.  The filmmakers waste no time captivating the audience with steadily increasing doses of unexplained phenomena, much of it revolving around cutie-pie Heather O’Rourke as the youngest daughter.  Mysterious conversations with television screen static (including the priceless “They’re heee-eere” tagline) give way to hair-raising scenes of poltergeist activity, leading the desperate family to engage parapsychologist Beatrice Straight.  Scream-inducing cinematic loop-de-loops and breakneck curves ensue, rocketing through a cornucopia of unforgettable scenes (closet-as-vacuum cleaner, the swimming pool, Williams’ Astaire-around-the-room tribute, etc.)  The Bugs Bunny-cartoon tornado not withstanding, Industrial Light and Magic’s special effects are excellent, bringing spooky trees, clowns, and all manner of spectral visitors to life.  The cast is excellent, with special honors going to Zelda Rubenstein’s powerful, pint-sized medium whose high-pitched line readings sell the chewier sections of dialogue.  Be advised: A nightmarish scene of a man tearing his own face off pushes the PG-rated gore envelope. 

Poltergeist II: The Other Side  (1986)

“They’re baaa-aaaack.”  The highly unoriginal tagline packs a fraction of the chills of Poltergeist’s “They’re here,” which is about the size of things in this half-baked, money-chasing follow-up.  Gone are the rollercoaster thrills, taut direction, and cohesive screenplay Tobe Hooper and Steven Spielberg brought to 1982’s haunted house extravaganza, leaving C-list director Brian Gibson with a game cast and a gamier storyline.  Picking up a year after their Cuesta Verde misadventures, the Freeling family members are found residing at grandma Geraldine Fitzgerald’s house (seems the insurance company didn’t cover supernatural home loss).  Thankfully, Jobeth Williams and Craig T. Nelson’s congenial and realistic family dynamic, one of the previous film’s major assets, remains intact.  When Will Sampson’s kooky medicine man enters the scene (with a backstory that expands on the original’s), the path is cleared for all manner of preposterous paranormal poppycock.  With a few bright moments of gooey thrills (tequila worm, anyone?) and a cameo from diminutive exorcist Zelda Rubenstein, this is more silly than scary, with an unintentionally hilarious “other side” finale.  Oddly enough, amid the whizzing and fizzing, the film’s most terrifying element is Julian Beck’s eerie performance as the malevolent Reverend Kane, ranking right alongside Phantasm’s Angus Scrimm for sheer spooky presence.  The gifted stage veteran (who died shortly after filming was completed), provides an unnerving electric hum to his every onscreen moment and dominates the otherwise hollow affair.

Portrait Of Jennie (1948)

Perhaps not a horror film per se, but as the picture hinges on struggling painter Joseph Cotton finding artistic inspiration and love through his encounters with mysterious, out-of-time female Jennifer Jones, I’m tossing it in.  A hypnotic, beautiful blend of romance and the supernatural, with stellar supporting work from Cecil Kellaway, Ethel Barrymore, and Lillian Gish.  The Technicolor lighthouse finale nabbed an Oscar for Best Special Effects, though it may have robbed Joseph H. August of his award for b/w cinematography.  Fans of The Ghost and Mrs. Muir and other ghostly love stories should definitely seek this one out.

Pretty Poison (1968)

Screwball Anthony Perkins (in a humorous twist on his famed Norman Bates perf) jumps probation from the nuthouse, shows up in Nowheresville, Small Town USA, and becomes madly infatuated with high school colorguard temptress Tuesday Weld.  Within a courtship fueled by lies and tall tales, their romance blossoms, fantasies blur into reality, and victimizer and victim soon become indiscernible from one another.  Tables are turned on the characters (and the audience) time and time and time again, yet Lorenzo Semple’s screenplay (based on the novel by Stephen Geller) never feels gratuitous or cheap.  Great, somewhat forgotten flick worth discovering. 

Prophecy  (1979)

How this film went so wrong is anyone’s guess.  With solid director John Frankenheimer, Omen screenwriter David Selzer, and a capable cast in place one might expect competence if not brilliance.  Alas, after a promising opening, the film descends rapidly into a cloud of painful social sermonizing (slumlords bad, big business bad, mistreating environment bad) and laughable special effects.  The film takes itself so seriously that there is little fun to be had in this misguided tale of a murderous mutant creature lurking in the Maine forests, killing off lumber company employees, Native Americans, and unsuspecting campers alike.  Robert Foxworthy, sporting the bushiest hair and beard on record, is the socially aware doctor/scientist, Talia Shire his overly emotional wife, Richard Dysart the stock big-business villian, and Armand Assante, of all people, trying out his “deep voice” as a Native American activist.  Advice to filmmakers everywhere:  When your creature looks like a cross between a mutant bear and an exploded hot dog from the microwave, you might not want to give it this much screen time, especially when it is obviously an unfortunate actor in a suit for some scenes and a big hand puppet in others.  Do the right thing, take a pass.

Pulse  (1988)

While the premise of electrical devices attacking their human masters is not inordinately original, this tight little thriller from Paul Golding manages to cultivate a sinister aura of menace from everyday appliances.  Still reeling from his parents’ divorce, Joey Lawrence (of TV’s Gimme a Break and Blossom) stars as a lonely child struggling to adapt to a new life in the suburbs with dad Cliff DeYoung and stepmom Roxanne Hart.  When the next-door neighbor goes crazy and dies in an electrical explosion, Lawrence begins to observe increasingly strange events in his new home (television shorting out, laundry dryer turning on by itself).  Golding handles the familiar “disbelieved child” note shrewdly, couching it within Lawrence’s obvious discomfort in his new surroundings.  Soon, however, the malevolent short circuit (an explanation for which is never provided), has insinuated itself into the very electric fabric of the house, and the entire family is under siege in increasingly terrifying scenarios (a shower sequence is particularly unnerving.)  The film’s biggest asset is its savvy handling of the far-fetched events, erring on the side of plausibility more so than other machines-gone-wild features, with terrific performances across the board ably selling the drama.  Veteran character actor Charles Tyner is memorably spooky as an enigmatic investigator.