#6: The Ring (2002)

"Seven days . . . "

Journalist and single mother Rachel Embry (Naomi Watts), while investigating the mysterious deaths of several teenagers (including her own niece), discovers that all of them seem to have watched a "cursed" videotape exactly seven days before they died. Dismissing this as mere urban legend, Rachel travels to the remote cabin where niece recently vacationed, locates the tape and watches it. As soon as the tape ends she receives a phone call in which a young girl's voice whispers "seven days." Convinced that she now has only seven days to live, Rachel begins desperately decoding the surreal images seen in the tape . . . but will she be able to unravel the mystery in time?

The Ring totally took me off guard. At the time at which it came out, I hadn't been honestly scared by a horror film for so long that I had begun to suspect that there wasn't anything I could see on film that would frighten me . . . and boy, was I wrong. Besides the fact that I almost had my arm torn out of its socket by my friend Carmen, whose apparent reaction to terror is to tug as hard as she can on the person sitting next to her, I went home literally afraid to look at my television- something which proved rather inconvenient as my bed had recently broken and I was forced to sleep on the couch in front of it.

This film, the first prominent remake of a Japanese horror film (1998's Ringu), gave the horror genre much-needed shot in the arm by introducing common Eastern horror tropes into a western environment, as well as transforming modern objects like televisions and videotapes into sources of terror. Its tone is incredibly nihilistic, especially when it comes to the pitiless nature of its antagonist, Samara (the intensely creepy Daveigh Chase), an incredibly pissed off spirit who wasn't exactly a sweet-heart when she was alive . . . but also notable is the overwhelming sense of dread that seems to saturate (in many cases, literally) everything in tones of gloom. And let's not forget the terrible way that Samara's victims die . . . shudder. Only in a movie this grim could a character like Rachel's creepy psychic son Aiden (David Dorfman) manage to come off as merely an eccentric side note.

This film's success at the box office did have a downside- namely, the rush to remake just about every Japanese horror film that has come out in the last ten years. In just about every case, I prefer the originals, but The Ring is a huge exception. I actually do think that the American remake of Ringu is superior to its Japanese counterpart, both in production values, the quality of the script, and the actors themselves. You've got to love Brian Cox as Samara's on-edge father, though after watching the second X-men film you just have to wonder just how many malevolent psychic kids this guy has sired . . .

Check back next week for my top five horror film countdown!

#7: The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

"It rubs the lotion on its skin. It does this whenever it is told."

Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster), a young FBI agent-in-training, is pulled from her regular duties in order to interview Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins), a former psychiatrist who was incarcerated in a high security mental health institution after it was discovered that he was a cannibalistic serial killer. Starling's boss, Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn), believes that Lecter may be intrigued enough by Starling (who is, apparently, exactly the sort of woman he used to prey upon) that he may aid the FBI with its current problem: "Buffalo Bill", a serial killer who skins his victims before disposing of the bodies. As it turns out, Crawford is correct in his assumption, and Lecter begins to provide insight into the mind and motives of Bill- but only in return for intimate knowledge of Starling's own personal demons . . .

Beneath the surface this film shares a lot of the same qualities of Alien- it's a psychological thriller in which a strong woman is forced to deal with a monster. But its also an excellent crime film, providing a fairly realistic portrayal of the hunt for a serial killer.

As mentioned in the post on Psycho, this film (based on the 1988 novel of the same name by Thomas Harris) was loosely based on serial killer Ed Gein, who skinned his victims for similar reasons to the fictional Buffalo Bill. But its also influenced by another real-life monster: Ted Bundy, a charismatic and intelligent man whose mask of sanity concealed a brutal murderer. Bundy was used as the basis for the fascinating character of Hannibal Lecter, who is this film's biggest asset despite only appearing in it for sixteen minutes. It's always great to see a character written as intelligently as Lecter, and his battle of wills with Starling is a joy to watch play out.

Then there's Starling herself, a diminutive woman fighting an uphill battle to be respected in a male-dominated profession (a battle between the sexes that is reflected by Buffalo Bill's complete objectification of women.) Noble, strong, and yet secretly vulnerable, I really have to hand it to Jodie Foster- she's absolutely perfect in the role.

And let's not forget Ted Levine as Buffalo Bill, who manages to portray a man both terrifying and pitiful . . . though I have to admit that I've seen this film so many times that I have a hard time finding the famous scene with the girl in the well as anything other than hilarious. There's just something inherently funny about Levine's voice, you know?

Don't judge me.

Check back tomorrow for #6!

#8: The Thing (1982)

"You guys think I'm crazy? Well, that's fine! Most of you don't know what's going on around here, but I'm damn well sure some of you do . . . you think that thing wanted to be an animal?! No dog's gonna make it a thousand miles through the cold! You don't understand- that thing wanted to be us! "

Antarctica, the first day of winter. An Alaskan sled dog is racing through the snow, pursued by a Norwegian helicopter. This bizarre chase comes to an end at an isolated American research station, where the Norwegians open up on the dog with a rifle, and attempt to blow it up with thermite charges- the reckless use of which results in both of their deaths. Unable to contact the mainland due to the weather, the American research team sends their own helicopter pilot (Kurt Russell as R.J. MacReady) and chief medical officer (Richard Dysart as Copper) to investigate the nearby Norwegian camp. Upon arrival they find that the entire compound has been destroyed, and that its personnel are either missing or dead. Outside the camp, they discover the partially burnt remains of a twisted creature with vaguely human features. What in the world happened here?

Meanwhile, the mysterious sled dog has been quietly wandering around the American camp, seemingly forgotten . . .

I've probably seen The Thing (more appropriately known as John Carpenter's The Thing, as this is a remake of the 1951 film The Thing from Another World, which was itself an adaptation of the novella Who Goes There? by John W. Campbell, Jr.) at least fifty times, and it still manages to fascinate me. Much like Rosemary's Baby, The Thing's horror depends heavily upon the paranoia of its characters- its primary antagonist is a shape-shifting monster that is attempting to infect every member of the research team, and it can imitate its victims perfectly, so literally anyone in the film could be the Thing, a device that Carpenter uses masterfully. But its other strength as a horror film is in its overwhelming sense of isolation. There's no escape for these people, and they know it.

The Thing itself is a incredibly disturbing creature. Unlike any of the other shape-shifters that I have seen in films and television, who seem to be somewhat fluid in nature, The Thing's transformations are violent and grotesque. The familiar (to us) shapes of men or dogs are literally torn apart to accommodate whatever new form the The Thing might require: heads split apart to reveal toothed maws, spider-legs erupt from torsos, and multiple eye-balls blink at us from a bloody mass of viscera. Needless to say, its not pleasant, and the fact that this film came out in the days before computer generated imagery makes it even more uncomfortable to watch. So, hats off to you, special effects guys!

The other thing that impresses me about this film is the quality of its cast. Had it been made today (and there is, sigh, talk of a remake) I imagine that the ensemble of scientists would have been made up of C-List actors, and that at least one of them would have been an attractive woman to provide a love interest for the character of McReady. After all, this is a monster movie, right? Thankfully, Carpenter didn't see it that way, and assembled an excellent ensemble composed entirely of men, including Wilford Brimley, Donald Moffat, Keith David, and Richard Masur. They're all incredibly believable, and lend a great deal of verisimilitude to the situation.

I find it incredibly surprising that this film was pretty much universally panned when it originally came out- but its possible that it was a bit too ahead of its time, as it seems as though most of the complaints focus on the squick-factor of Thing itself, and not on the film's real strengths: mood, character development, and mystery. It's really too bad, because- had The Thing been a success- it's entirely possible that director John Carpenter (probably best known for the famous 1978 slasher-film Halloween) might have been regarded as a more lucrative director, and thus landed better deals than, say, 1983's Christine. On the flip side, however, who's to say that such a turn of events might have robbed us of such classics as Big Trouble In Little China, or They Live. Perhaps its best not to screw with history.

Check back tomorrow for #7!

#9: Rosemary's Baby (1968)

"He has his father's eyes."

Young Rosemary Woodhouse (Mia Farrow) and her struggling actor husband Guy (John Cassavetes), have decided to move into the Bramford, a gothic apartment building that their elderly friend Hutch (Maurice Evans, probably better known for playing the xenophobic Dr. Zaius in 1968's Planet of the Apes) informs them has a somewhat ominous history involving murder and cannibalism. But the only thing odd about the Bramford seems to be their elderly neighbors, the rather eccentric Castevets, who, though nosy, are able to befriend the young couple- even Guy, who originally wanted nothing to do with them, becomes strangely attached to the pair . . .

It's kind of hard to talk about this film without giving away spoilers, so be warned before reading on.

Rosemary's Baby, based on the Ira Levin novel of the same name, is a fascinating piece because much of its tension comes from the film's ability to keep the audience wondering whether or not there actually is anything sinister going on. It's a study in paranoia that puts you into the shoes of an increasingly frightened young woman who slowly starts to believe that everyone around her is part of a plot to steal her newborn child for a satanic sacrifice, and I actually think its delightful that the "horrible truth" revealed at the end of the film is actually something of a huge relief to both the audience and Rosemary. I'm not going completely spoil it, but the fact that there actually is a conspiracy is a far preferable to the idea that Rosemary was being driven to insanity by her own imagination.

Another interesting thing about this film is that its essentially a horror movie about being pregnant. Considering the year it came out, I can't help but think that it reflects the deeply felt anxiety the baby boomer generation must have felt as they became parents themselves, and thus demonizes the very concept of adulthood. This is a theme that crops up often in Ira Levin's work- take 1975's The Stepford Wives, in which Katherine Ross fears losing her real self- and her feminist ideals- after she and her husband move to suburbia with their kids. Again, the revelation of that film that women are being replaced by androids (sorry if you haven't seen it) ends up being something of a relief compared to the prospect that growing old somehow turns you into a submissive, conservative wifey wife.

For further demonic children, stay tuned . . .

#10: Kwaidan (1964)

"It was midnight, and the city was as silent as a cemetery . . . "

Before even attempting to summarize this supremely elegant film, I'm going to let you know right off the bat that it is an anthology piece- four different stories without a single framing device- a genre that seems to lend itself extremely well to the horror genre. Tales From the Darkside, Creepshow, and even the more recent Grindhouse films have all made good use of the model of providing three or four short and sweet horror stories in one package- but not since Kwaidan has there been one that I would consider to be a true piece of art. And that is precisely what Kwaidan (closest translation from the Japanese: "Ghost Story") is: art. If you're looking for cats jumping out at the camera, gore, or fast-paced action then go elsewhere, because Kwaidan will likely bore you to tears. But if you're willing to put in some effort, I guarantee that the payoff of this film is immense. It's outstandingly creepy, beautiful, and possesses an acid wit to boot.

There are four stories in the film, all of which are radically different takes on the classic ghost story. The first, The Black Hair, the story of a wronged woman and her finally repentant ex-husband, is probably by far the most recognizable to western audiences, especially given the recent influx of remakes based on Japanese horror films. It's by far the creepiest of the lot, dealing with material that feels strangely like the work of Edgar Allen Poe, and allows the tension to build up to an almost unbearable level before finally coming apart at the seams.

The second, The Woman of the Snow, was in fact remade for the Tales From the Darkside film, and deals with a beautiful yet demonic snow demon that promises to spare the life of a handsome young man as long as he won't tell anyone about their encounter . . . a promise that the protagonist is destined to eventually break.

The third story, and definitely my favorite of the four, is the tale of the blind monk, Hoichi, who is a master of the biwa (the short-necked lute,) and renowned for his masterful retelling of the fall of the Heike clan during the epic sea battle of Dan-no-ura . . . so much so that the spectres of the slain Heike nobles request Hoichi to perform for them night after night . . . an interesting situation as Hoichi himself cannot realize that the rich patrons he is playing for are spirits from beyond!

The final story, In A Cup Of Tea, is definitely the most ambiguous of the four- and certainly leaves you hanging . . .

Much like Interview with the Vampire, I won't claim that this film is particularly frightening, but it is a masterpiece of cinema, and if you are in the right mood it certainly isn't something you'd want to watch alone. The tone is certainly highly stylized, but it is done so in such a way that it heightens the creepy atmosphere of the piece rather than detracts from it.

I also particularly enjoy the fact that these are all ghost stories from the Warring States period of Japanese history or (at the very latest) the pre-modern Tokugawa shogunate period- how many western films have you seen that took place outside of our own fairly modern time period? For every Sleepy Hollow or Ravenous there's a seemingly inexhaustible legion of horror films that assume that people need to see familiar surroundings in order to be afraid.

And true horror is timeless.

Check back tomorrow for #9!

#11: Quarantine (2008)

"They won't let us out."

Late night television reporter Angela Vidal (Jennifer Carpenter), accompanied by her cameraman Scott (Steve Harris), is on assignment at a Los Angeles fire department, following the nightly routine of two firemen (played by Jay Hernandez and Johnathon Schaech) when the station receives an emergency call. Arriving at an old apartment building, the superintendent directs the firemen, news crew, and a pair of policemen to the second floor, where an elderly tenant in considerable distress (her screams alone have managed to rouse several of the building's other tenants) has locked herself within her apartment. Breaking down the door reveals a terrified old woman- barely able to communicate- her clothes stained with blood . . . and apparently not her own.

Fairly soon it's obvious to everyone involved that the best course of action would be to leave- but the front doors have been blocked from the outside, cell-phones don't work, and any attempt to exit the building is met with violent force from the authorites- who insist that the people inside stay put.

I have to admit, when I saw the trailer for this film (which, if you didn't already know, is a remake of the 2007 Spanish film REC) I didn't expect much. It looked like yet another attempt to cash-in on the "Blair Witch" found footage genre, and when compared to the hype surrounding the same year's Cloverfield, Quarantine gave off the vibe of being the inferior of the two films. Imagine my great surprise when I picked it up on DVD and had my socks blown off by it (I mean, not literally, but, you know . . .)

I actually think the film's rather tepid opening is ingenious. Normally this would be the portion of the story that would make us sympathize with the leads, and give you information that will later become important- but instead we are confronted by characters that aren't particularly likable, or even well developed- even Angela, our main character, comes off as a bit of an intellectual lightweight, and I can't imagine the fictional late-night program that she and Scott are supposedly filming is anything but fluff revolving around a pretty young woman. Multiple people I've watched this with have commented to the effect that they can't wait for these people to die, and I think its a testament to this film's structure that, by the end of the film, you really really really want them to make it out alive.

The opening also has exposition that literally has nothing to do with anything that later occurs! Take for instance the time spent discussing the old-fashioned hook ladder. In a normal movie, this would have become an 11th hour plot twist, possibly even the means by which our heroes would ultimately escape the apartment building- here, it seems placed to make us think that we know where the plot going, and I applaud any attempt to shake up predictable film conventions.

Admittedly, Quarantine does take awhile to get up to speed, but when it does it plays out like pure nightmare fuel. It would be frightening enough if it only dealt with the experience of being trapped inside of a building by the government with no explanation, so adding what are essentially the world's most believable zombies into the mix ramps up the horror aspect considerably. The last fifteen minutes of this film are absolutely terrifying . . . make sure you watch it in the dark.

Check back later for #10!

Update: I really do have a lot of beef with the trailer- I would have been a lot more likely to go see this film if they had just let me know that it was a zombie flick, and I certainly think its completely unforgivable that it actually shows us the ending of the film! What were they thinking?

#12: The Blob (1988)

"Vicki!!!"

A strange meteorite comes to ground on the outskirts of the small town of Arborville, California, unleashing a horrifying organism that gains mass as it absorbs its prey. When it's first victim, an elderly hobo, is discovered by the town's local delinquent (Kevin Dillon as Brian Flagg) the task falls to him to convince the townsfolk that they are all in terrible danger before the blob devours them all- but who is going to believe the town pariah? I mean, besides a popular cheerleader that he's secretly had a crush on since grade school?

This film is a hell of lot of fun, and for that reason alone it managed to claw (slither?) its way past other movies that are, technically, far superior to it. But this is a film that knows that its nothing more than a run-of-the-mill monster movie, and revels in all of the classic cliches of horror films. It even has a hilarious slasher film within the film that mercilessly rips on the genre ("Wait a second . . . hockey season ended months ago!") It also helps that the film's jokes are genuinely funny- perhaps the result of how many screenwriters worked on the film (including Chuck Russell and Frank Darabont.)

Ribbed. Ha ha.

The film's biggest strength, though, is its special effects, which are incredibly good considering how low-rent of a movie this is. I sometimes wonder if so much of the budget was blown on the monster that they couldn't afford real actors. I mean, it says something that one of the more recognizable cast members is that guy who gets melted in Robocop.

That said, you really also couldn't ask for a better protagonist than Kevin Dillon (better known these days for his hilarious turn as Johnny Chase on Entourage,) who really fits the tone of The Blob perfectly. His transformation from "rebel-without-a-cause" punk to unlikely hero is a lot of fun to watch, and he's a perfect foil to the shadowy government agents who show up in the film's third act.

All fun aside, The Blob can be fairly horrifying - especially when you think about what it would be like to be digested while you were still alive. The Blob kills a lot of people that you might have thought would have survived the film, and director Chuck Russell is certainly not shy when it comes to gore. I saw this when it came out on HBO back in the early nineties, and I have to admit it freaked me out. The scene with the woman in the engulfed phone booth is like something out of a nightmare, and the chase scene that follows the movie theater massacre always manages to have me on the edge of my seat.

If you want to check this one out, do yourself a favor and get together with some friends who don't take movies that seriously, make some popcorn, and have a few drinks. I guarantee a good time will ensue.

Check in tomorrow for #11!