31 Days of Horror # 24 Flatliners (1990, dir. Joel Schumacher)

‘Don’t bury me on a Saturday.’

A teenage sleepover favourite, Flatliners holds a very special place in my heart. It reminds me of a very specific time in my life and has a very specific feel. That doesn’t mean it’s a good film, because it isn’t, not really. It is a nostalgic trip down late 80s and early 90s cinema lane; a mixed bag of a movie, with a really unique tone and a lot of style over substance.

Med students Nelson (Keifer Sutherland), Rachel (Julia Roberts) Joe (William ‘Billy’ Baldwin) Steckle (Oliver Platt) and Labraccio (Kevin Bacon) use school property, space and resources to play God to try and prove there’s an afterlife.

I am not sure they succeed in this, but they do prove that you’re always haunted by something, and the ways to dispel your ghosts can range from facing your demons, forgiving yourself to righting your wrongs.

Not all wrongs are equal in the afterlife, though. While Nelson has to forgive himself for the death of Billy Mahoney (Joshua Rudoy) a kid him and his friends basically murdered, and Rachel has to let go of her grief over the suicide of her veteran junkie dad, Joe and Labraccio get off lightly. Joe is ‘haunted’ by the many women he secretly films having sex with, and Labraccio must atone for picking on the still very much alive Winnie Hicks (Kesha Reed / Kimberley Scott).

Joe’s ghostly conquests (who are all as alive as Winnie Hicks is) disappear as soon as his fiancé finds out about them and dumps him. Labraccio finds Winnie and her acceptance of his apology stops her ten year old self from verbally abusing him on the subway.

The set design is very, very odd. The hospital they are doing their training in looks like the British museum. There’s vast, high-ceilinged rooms full of huge statues and Grecian columns. Nelson lives in a huge apartment that’s lit with blue florescent tubes on the floor. The streets are run down and mostly empty apart from the occasional passing car. The students go to a shop in where I think is supposed to be Chinatown and buy drinks from a bodega that looks like it’s made from wooden pallets. The entire town seems to be under some kind of construction project...everything is covered with Dexter-style plastic sheeting and there’s beacons and no entry signs all over the place.

It’s set in the autumn, on the days either side of  Halloween, and at least it looks like they filmed it at that time of year. It looks cold and the leaves are turning.

Oliver Platt gets all the good lines in a truly terrible, clunky script and delivers them wonderfully. Though his character is a bit of a pompous, pretentious prick, he’s also kind of likeable.

The other performances, for the most part, do well with the terrible writing. Nelson, while not as awful as Mark from Possession or Guy (hissssssssssss) from Rosemary’s Baby, he’s still pretty terrible and you never get to find out if ghost Billy clobbering him over the head with a crowbar makes adult him see the error of his egotistical, selfish, bullying ways. I have my doubts.

William Baldwin smoulders like the embers of a 5^th of November bonfire, Julia Roberts does that voice-cracking, hand-wringing thing that she does when her character is in emotional turmoil and Kevin Bacon….well…he does his best. His character is at least not a pompous prick, egotistical bully or creepy sex-pest. He does however sport one of the worst haircuts in movie history.

Despite it’s many flaws, I still love this film. It will always remind me of going to Blockbusters to rent it for the tenth time, and then stocking up on snacks like vice versas (remember those?), of being fourteen and trying to figure out which of us was the least likely to be asked for ID if we wanted to buy booze.

Content warning: suicide, intravenous drug use, the dog dies (another one, sorry) Kevin Bacon’s mullet.

Final thoughts: Winnie Hicks is doing just fine for herself, thank you.

31 Days of Horror # 23 Practical Magic (1998. dir. Griffin Dunne)

 ‘In this house, we eat chocolate cake for breakfast.’

Based on Alice Hoffman’s 1995 novel of the same name, Practical Magic is about witchy sisters Sally (Sandra Bullock) and Gilly (Nicole Kidman) who are sent to live with aunties Frances (Stockard Channing) and Jet (Dianne Wiest) after their parents die.

Hundreds of years before, scorned woman and first witch in the Owens family, Maria (Caprice Benedetti) curses future generations of Owens women with a spell that dooms their true love to die.

As a child Sally is determined to never fall foul of the curse and casts her own spell, wishing for a man with qualities that can’t possibly exist.

As the sisters grow older, Gilly lives a carefree, nomadic lifestyle, partying and and always dating the most unsuitable of men. Sally, meanwhile, avoids all romantic entanglements until the aunts meddle in her love life and she marries Michael (Mark Fuerestein).

Sally and Michael have two daughters, Kylie (Evan Rachel Wood) and Antonia (Alexandra Artrip) and seem to be living the perfect life until the curse comes true and Mark dies.

A grief stricken Sally takes her daughters and moves back in with Frances and Jet, swearing that Kylie and Antonia will never do magic.

When Gilly needs Sally’s help escaping her abusive boyfriend Jimmy (Goran Visnjic) and they resort to using magic to get rid of him, things go horribly wrong. Life is further complicated when state investigator Gary Hallet (Aidan Quinn) arrives in town investigating Jimmy’s disappearance.

Practical Magic is probably one of my favourite ever witch films, alongside The Craft. It’s whip smart, extremely funny, and very moving. I absolutely love Nicole Kidman in this film, her performance as Gilly is tough and vulnerable and annoying and adorable. Midnight margaritas is a scene that I think about every time I drink one of those.

Content warning: domestic violence, loads of toads.

Final verdict: There are some things I know for certain: always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder, keep rosemary by your garden gate, plant lavender for luck, and fall in love whenever you can.

31 Days of Horror # 22 High Tension (aka 'Haute Tension' / ‘Switchblade Romance’, 2003 dir. Alexandre Aja)

 Student besties Alex (Maïwenn) and Marie (Cécile de France) go to Alex’s parent’s remote farmhouse to study. As the family sleeps and Marie rings the devil’s doorbell after seeing Alex's boobs, a stranger breaks into the house.

The Killer, (Phillipe Nahon) a middle-aged French Michael Myers in a grubby browny-green boiler suit has an unstoppable, supernatural strength and can remove heads and limbs with ease. Unlike Michael’s dispassionate and robotic slayings, The Killer takes a great deal of perverted pleasure in his work. He kills the whole family (including the dog) and then slings a chained up Alex in the back of his Jeepers Creepers-esque van and drives her away from the house.

He stops along the way to fill up the van, buy some booze, have a piss and axe the poor petrol station attendant in the chest. Marie, who’s also in the back of the van takes the comfort break as her chance to escape and try and phone the police. When they get cross with her because she can’t give them the address of the petrol station, she yells at them, hangs up and then takes the dead attendant’s car to follow the Killer herself.

She follows him to what looks like a weed farm in the middle of the woods for the final, brutal and bloody showdown and to rescue Alex.

From the start, Marie is set up to be our Final Girl. It’s her shoes we’re in for most of the film. She’s extremely smart, resourceful and brave. There's no daft decisions here like running up  the stairs when you should be going down. She’s also not afraid to resort to extreme violence herself.

And the violence is extreme; fans of gore will love High Tension. There are moments that are genuinely stomach churning-hide-behind-the-cushion-what-the-fuck-am-I-watching. It’s nasty, over-the-top, brutal and blood-saturated.

It’s not only infamous for being part of the French New Extremity movement, but for its baffling twist ending that has divided audiences over the last 22 years between those that think it’s brilliant and those (like me) who think it ruins what’s otherwise an above average, genuinely scary home invasion film.

Content warning: stump fucking, the dog dies, the kid dies, everyone dies in a The Shining elevator shower of blood.

Final thoughts: never stop your car for someone soaked in blood and screaming ‘help me! 

31 Days of Horror # 21 Rosemary’s Baby (1968, dir. Roman Polanski)

Upfront disclaimer: It’s hard to talk about this film without talking about the director, Roman Polanski. In 1977 he was arrested and charged with the drugging and rape of a thirteen year old girl. Polanski has never faced any kind of punishment, and has been defended many times for his actions.

This brings up the dilemma of separating the art from the artist, which is particularly difficult with a film that’s as good as Rosemary’s Baby. As paraphrased from horror movie podcast Evolution of Horror, a film is not just the work of the director, but of all the people involved in bringing it to the screen.

However, I understand if you want to skip this one, and I’ll see you on day 22.

Now on with the review.

‘This is no dream! This is really happening!’

Young bride Rosemary Woodhouse (Mia Farrow) is apartment hunting with her actor husband Guy (John Cassavetes). They find the seemingly perfect place, a recently vacated flat in Manhattan’s rather gloomy and imposing Bramford Building.

But why is there a large dresser blocking a closet door? Why are their elderly neighbours Roman and Minnie Castevet (Sidney Blackmer and Ruth Gordon) so keen to be involved with their lives? Why did Terry, the Castevet's young female lodger fall from the window of their seventh floor apartment? What does Rosemary’s old landlord and friend Hutch discover about the Castevets that puts his life on danger?

Rosemary’s Baby is a terrifying study in coercion, control and abuse of power and it’s here (PLOT SPOILER ALERT) I want to go off on a tangent to say just how much I fucking hate Guy. He’s a selfish, egotistical, controlling, gas-lighting rapist. He won’t let see Rosemary see the doctor she wants to – he has the job and the money and she doesn’t – he controls what she reads, who she talks to, what she eats. He calls her friends ‘stupid bitches’ and oh, yeah, he sells his wife’s body and their unborn child to a Satanic cult in a deal to to further his acting career. Guy fucking sucks.

It’s Guy that makes Rosemary’s Baby truly frightening, even though he’s even more of a pathetic, needy, whinge bag than Mark from day 1’s watch Possession, a film which explores many of the same themes.

It could be theorised that Guy is manipulated by the Castevets as much as Rosemary is, but he seems pretty willing to be an active member of the cult in order to get what he wants – even if it’s as the expense of someone he’s supposed to love. Let’s not forget he also actively participates in the machinations that result in his rival going blind, and destroying his career. Props to John Cassavetes for making me hate Guy so much.

Content warning: rape, suicide (more suicide...jeez) domestic abuse, hairy faced devil baby.

Final thoughts: Fuck you Guy, you fucking fuck.

31 days of Horror # 20 Wolf Creek (2005, dir. Greg McLean)

 ‘She was good for months, until she lost her head!’

Inspired by the real-life cases of Ivan ‘Backpacker Murderer’ Millat and the 2001 disappearance of British tourist Peter Falconio, Wolf Creek is a 2005 Australian horror film that will put you off an outback holiday forever.

Ben (Nathan Phillips) Liz (Cassandra Magrath) and Kristie (Kestie Morassi) are three tourists on a road-trip to see Wolfe Creek Crater. Setting off the morning after a party with the kind of hangover that has you saying ‘I’m never drinking again’, the friends are disappointed by the gloomy, overcast day and bored by the long drive. The trip appears worth it, though, and Ben and Liz share a sneaky kiss when Kristie pops off for a al fresco shit.

There’s no-one else around, and when Ben’s fifth-hand rusty heap-of-shit car won’t start, they are very grateful that local Mick Taylor (John Jarratt) appears and offers to tow them to his place and do the repairs needed to get them back on the road.

At first Mick appears friendly, though a tad...off. He makes ribald comments and sexist, racist and homophobic jokes. Despite their apprehension the three friends try and dismiss this as Mick being an old-school rough and ready mucker type; a little creepy but ultimately harmless. Stranded hours from anywhere, they need his help and so accept his offer.

Mick of course, is a sadistic serial killer with a taste for rape and torture, and this ain’t his first rodeo. He takes them to what is possibly just one of his kill sites, a desolate and dirty assortment of make-shift buildings littered with the cars and belongings of his previous victims.

It’s not just Mick Taylor that makes this film scary. John Jarratt is great, playing Mick as the kind of person we’ve probably all met in real life. Not a serial killer, of course, but the kind of person whose 0-60 unpredictability leaves you unsure as to exactly how to behave around them.

The deeper fear lies in the vast remoteness of the Australian outback, the seemingly endless roads snaking through miles of barren, scrubby land and the stark, leafless trees. Even if you did escape Mick, where would you go? He knows this place much better than you do, and there’s nowhere to hide. If he doesn't get you, the wilderness will.

Content warning: all bets are off after the first 30 minutes.

Final thoughts: stay at home. 

31 days of Horror # 19 Stir of Echoes (1999, dir. David Koepp)

‘Does it hurt to be dead?’

Based on Richard Matheson’s (Hell House, I Am Legend) 1958 novel, this supernatural, very chilly thriller was sadly overshadowed by The Sixth Sense which was released in the same year. Both films feature a spooky little kid with who seems to know things others don’t, but that’s where the similarities end.

After Tom (Kevin Bacon, sizzling with a wiry hotness I did not appreciate at the time this film came out...21 year old me evidentially had no taste) is hynotised by his sister-in-law Lisa (Illeana Douglas), he starts having frightening visions and develops an addiction to cold orange juice. His son Jake (Zachary David Cope) tells him not to be afraid - like Cole Sear, Jake has a connection to those that have passed on into whatever is beyond the mortal world.

As Tom tries to decipher the meaning of his increasingly frightening visions and sudden ability to ‘know things’, he becomes convinced they are connected to a local missing teenage girl, Samantha (Jennifer Morrison).

His wife Maggie (Kathryn Erbe) is also on her own mission to find out exactly what’s going on with her husband and why he’s started doing things like digging up their back garden.

I love this film. It's autumnal colour palette, the dynamic between Tom and Maggie, how the story unfolds.  My favourite scene comes very early on, and it’s when Lisa hypnotises Tom. As he sinks deeper into the hypnosis, his chair floats above the seats of a cinema and towards the flickering screen. It’s such a striking image. 

It’s an underrated gem; eerie, compelling, sad, funny and at times, spine-chilling. The pacing is great, the compact run-time packs a lot in but keeps the plotting neat and tidy.

Content warning: sexual assault, teeth falling out, suicide (again! These movies love a suicide attempt).

Final thoughts: Kevin Bacon almost nudges Sam Neill off the Scream King top spot in this one.

31 Days of Horror # 18 The Wicker Man (1973, dir. Robin Hardy)

 ‘That’s my costume, the salmon of knowledge!’

In this OG folk horror classic, pious and tenacious police officer Neil Howie (Edward Woodward) arrives on a remote Scottish island, Summerisle, to investigate the disappearance of teenage girl Rowan Morrison.

The locals aren’t exactly helpful though. Half of them deny all knowledge of Rowan’s existence and half of them say she’s dead. Even Rowan’s ‘mother’ isn’t talking and seems very unbothered about the whereabouts of her daughter.

Howie’s investigations lead him to Daddy of the island, Lord Summerisle (Christopher Lee) and he begins to suspect that Rowan was sacrificed in a pagan ritual by the islanders to ensure a bountiful harvest that year.

When Howie attempts to leave the island, the true intentions of the islanders are revealed in what is possibly horror cinema’s most shocking twist ending.

Content warning: Boobs. Lots of boobs. Pub garden orgies, animal cruelty, Christopher Lee cos-playing Cher. Oh, and the ending. It’s hide-behind-the-cushion scary.

Final verdict: virgins don’t always make it to the end of a horror film.