A Christmas Carol: Live from the Ghouls' Yule!

Last night, I had the pleasure of doing something I've never done before. As an old English major, it was something I had always wanted to do, and thanks to Captain Cruella's Ghouls' Yule, I finally got my wish. As the good Captain and I began to plan our Christmas/horror-themed event in the quaint village of Saugerties, New York, I decided to finally indulge my long-running wish. I volunteered to read passages from my very favorite holiday tale, Dickens' brilliant ghost story, A Christmas Carol. A story which perfectly combines the spirits of Christmas and of horror--both of which have long been dear to me.

Further, thanks to a timely suggestion from Bryan White of Cinema Suicide, I did more than just read for the live audience at The Inquiring Mind bookstore--I also engaged in a little experiment, broadcasting the reading live on the internet on UStream. It was my first time using the service, and I sincerely hope that some of you out there were actually able to view the live broadcast. But for those that didn't, I present it here. Enjoy, Merry Christmas... and God bless us, everyone!

(And please forgive the echo--it goes away after the first couple of minutes. As I said, first-time UStream user!)



Further Reading: My review of the classic 1951 film version of SCROOGE, over at Cinema Geek...

The Shadow of Samhain: A Saturday in Salem

For the record, I take this Shadow of Samhain thing very seriously (so much so, in fact, that it looks to be spilling over right into November...), and therefore, it became clear that before the series had reached its conclusion, I would have to pay my very first visit to one of the epicenters of the occult, one of the places most dear to the history of pagan traditions--Salem, Massachusetts. So last weekend, I packed up the fam-- three generations of Solomons strong--and made that trek up the Mass Turnpike to the place where, in 1692, one of the worst atrocities in American history took place.

In the end, I learned a great deal about the true history of witchcraft, about the realities of the actual witch trials, and perhaps most decidedly of all, about the horrendous traffic conditions in Salem in October. To put it as simply as possible, people, my best advice to you is that, if you decide to visit there between now and Halloween, use a helicopter. Maybe one of the shopkeepers will let you land it on their roof, I don't know. All I know is, at the end of a six-hour drive--three of which consisted of looking for a place to park--I was about ready to be burned at at the stake (or, more properly, hanged, as my witch-expert blogger buddy Andre Dumas points out.)

However, it truly was a blast to experience, and I'm glad we took the trouble to head out there. There is a rich tradition that permeates that town, and an almost tangible sense of the supernatural that seems to lurk around every corner. Supposedly, the town rests on some ancient crater that focuses occult energies--it sounds like something out of Ghostbusters to me, but hey, I'd certainly like to believe it's true.


Right off the bat, one of the attractions that caught little Zombelina's interest was the mysterious House of the Seven Gables, made famous in Nathaniel Hawthorne's novel. To satisfy my daughter's curiosity, we headed over there forthwith, only to discover that it was completely sold out for the day (how does a historic landmark "sell out", anyway?) Nevertheless, I managed to sneak the little one past the ticket line and on to the grounds of the house for a bit, even if we couldn't go in. We were able to find the birthplace of Hawthorne, which did give the English major in me a shiver of glee.


From there, we discovered a most unique and interesting place. It was the World of Witches Museum, on Wharf Street. Whereas most of the museum-like attractions in the town are preoccupied with the actual Witch Trials of 1692, this place seemed to be the only one providing a genuine overview of and appreciation for the entire history of witches and witchcraft, from a Wiccan point of view. Highly recommended for anyone interested in learning more about the actual Wiccan community of Salem, beyond all the tourist-trapism. At one point, they encouraged my kids to pick out gemstones from a pile, as a way of divining something about their personality--whereupon we learned that my son, Wee-Sol, is destined to basically rule the world at some point. So there's that.


Pirate ships, eclectic shops and spooky old graveyards were the order of the day, until the evening came, and it was time for the trolley tour. Thanks to this tour, I was able to learn that apparently Salem is haunted by about 67,492 ghosts. In fact, if I had to estimate, I'd day it's more than likely that there are more spirits residing in the town than living people. If our tour guide is to be believed, that is. Let's see, there's the famous Joshua Ward House, haunted by one-time Salem High Sheriff George Corwin; the jewel thief and the woman in white who haunt Baker's Island; and of course, the restaurant Rockafella's, a former church believed to have so much supernatural activity, it's a wonder there's any room for the patrons.

Are these stories true, or based on any semblance of truth? Honestly--and this is something I picked up in the wild and woolly world of rasslin', where tall tales are the order of the day--I don't really care. I'm more interested in the pleasure of hearing the tale than in discerning its veracity. I want them to be true--and that is good enough for me.

Following our tour and a quick bite to eat, it was time to depart the fair town of Salem and head for home (yes, it was a mere day trip--what can I say? We're a family of masochists.) The long, thankfully traffic-free ride home was filled with ruminations of witchery and things that go bump in the night. I'm very glad I had the opportunity to finally see the Halloween capital of America. Perhaps an annual visit will be in order from here on in...

The Lucky 13: Week Ten: Ghosts, Haunted Houses and Psychic Phenomena

Folks, I can't say I know this to be actual fact, but if I had to venture a guess, I'd say that the paranormal--i.e. ghosts--probably makes up the oldest of all horror sub-genres, going all the way back to horror's origins in literature and folklore. Fear is based primarily on what we don't understand and don't know, and so that one great unknowable, death and what comes after, has provided us with some of the most primal sources of pure terror.

The paranormal has been fodder for so many classics. Who doesn't love a good ghost story, after all? There's something about them that feels like the very essence of what horror is all about at its core. And so it's with great pride that both Brutal as Hell and The Vault of Horror bring you our favorite films tackling this otherwordly subject matter...

B-Sol on The Shining

Stanley Kubrick's cinematic jewel is a work of absolute genius from top to bottom. This is a film so rich in texture and flawless in execution that I find it a rewarding experience to watch every single time. More than a horror movie, this film is a work of art.

It's brilliantly shot, thanks in part to cinematographer John Alcott, who had previously worked with Kubrick on A Clockwork Orange and Barry Lyndon (and, incidentally, shot Terror Train right after this). With a sense of light and color that achieves a level of perfection few films ever do. The scene with Jack and Grady in the men's room is a thing of beauty, that can be watched with the sound off and you still wouldn't be able to take your eyes off it. Its a classic example of the Kubrick style.

The imagery is pure Kubrick, presenting the viewer with visuals that stay in the brain long after the movie is over. The barely glimpsed shot of the hacked-up Grady twins; the old lady in the bathtub; that creepy dude in the bear suit--this is surreal, nightmarish horror at its very best.



Cinema Suicide's Bryan White on The Sentinel

Haunted house movies aren't what they used to be. Pardon me while I play the grumpy old man here, but Hollywood and the contemporary audience don't seem to have the time anymore for a deliberately paced ghost story anymore. Everyone wants to see the apparitions right off the bat. They want special effects and lots of them. These days you couldn't possibly get away with making a movie like The Sentinel. It's a movie that takes too long to get to the stuff that people identify as scary, and that's too bad because The Sentinel is freakin' terrifying!

Christina Raines plays a fashion model on the edge who takes up residence in a Brooklyn townhouse. If she wasn't already on the edge of collapse from a crazy work schedule, her neighbors are a bunch of weirdos and when she mentions them to the real estate agent who hooked her up with the place, the woman insists that the only other occupant of the building is an ancient priest who spends his days and nights sitting in the window at the top of the building. I'm tempted to spoil the whole plot here but therein lies the fun. The revelation as to why it's called The Sentinel is fantastic, and what an ending!

The Sentinel, for some reason, is a horror movie that lives below the boards. The '70s was full of horror that capitalized on the Catholic fear generated by The Exorcist. For some reason, everyone in America seemed spooked by the threat of evil spirits and it took Hollywood no time to capitalize on this trend. For this reason, a lot of the movies to follow in the wake of The Exorcist seem like exploitation movies, and The Sentinel was victim to this generalization. It has an absolutely killer cast, with Burgess Meredith playing the ring leader of a band of completely deranged New Yorkers. You also get a quick dose of Christopher Walken in an early role, if he's your bag.

The Sentinel zeroes in on the sort of abstract horror that tends to get under my skin. People behave strangely, as if it's the most normal thing in the world and that I'm the weird one for being the outsider to their strange games. There are also a couple of great jump scares, which no haunted house movie should be without. It owes a lot to H.P. Lovecraft's short story, The Music of Erich Zann, which is a favorite of mine. Haunted house movies aren't supposed to be the sort of thing that repels you with explicit imagery, it's all about implication and only the best haunted house horrors do this right. Chief among them is The Sentinel.



* * * * * * * * * *

Only three weeks to go in The Lucky 13! I'd like to thank my contributors, who have thus far helped make this little endeavor what it is--your efforts are greatly appreciated. Now head over to Brutal as Hell to see what Marc Patterson and his crew have come up with. And if you're interested in taking part in the future, just give Marc or myself a holler.

Week 1: Grindhouse & Exploitation
Week 2: Creature Features & Monster Movies
Week 3: Demons, Witches & The Devil
Week 4: Gore!
Week 5: Horror Comedies
Week 6: Vampires
Week 7: Psychological Horror
Week 8: Werewolves
Week 9: Serial Killers

Join us next week, when we finally hit upon that one sub-genre so many of you have been waiting for. That's right, it's zombie time!

Zombelina Reviews The Uninvited (1944)...

Want more Zombelina? Check out her kid's lit. review blog,
Book Town...

TRAILER TRASH: Ghosts Edition!

* Special thanks to Zombelina for this week's Trailer Trash theme!

The Real Ghostbusters... No, Not the Cartoon. The Actual Real Ghostbusters...

[As promised, this evening I bring you something just a little different for the Vault. It's a report from a real-life Ghost Hunter. In this case, the person in question is my old high school buddy Jay Stroming, who now has one of the coolest side gigs in the world. I'll let him explain...]

Ok, first, a quick disclaimer: this blog entry will not be about the horror genre. But it will definitely be related. You see, I’m a ghost hunter. Like those guys on TV (sorry, hard not to make a “Ghostbusters” joke here). If you’ve ever seen “Ghost Hunters” on the SyFy Channel, or any of the other similar shows on other networks, then you know what I do, in a nutshell. Brian is an old friend of mine going back to high school days, and I was honored that he asked me to do a post on my ghost hunting activities for The Vault of Horror. The impetus for his invitation was a recent investigation we conducted at a fire house here on Staten Island, New York, just two weeks ago.

I’ve been with EPIC, the Eastern Paranormal Investigation Center, for a little over three years now, and in fact, I am one of the co-founders, with Arthur Matos. In that time we’ve added two additional members, James Bricks and Laura Pennace, who in addition to investigating, do a tremendous job at historical research, which is key to our group’s philosophy. We’re a very scientifically-minded group, meaning we don’t rely on psychics or mediums, but rather sophisticated electronic equipment, such as infra-red cameras, EMF meters, motion sensors, and so on. We are out to find recordable evidence of the paranormal, whether it be video, audio, readings captured on meters, or ideally, a combination of those things.

In these three years, we’ve investigated a number of locations, mostly residential homes, but we do get the occasional business or high-profile client who wants us to come in and validate what they may be experiencing. About a month ago, we were contacted by Richmond Engine Company No. 1, a volunteer fire house servicing historic Richmond Town and the surrounding areas, here on Staten Island. While we’ve been lucky to never have had to doubt the sincerity of any of our clients in the past, claims of the paranormal seem to carry extra weight when coming from cops or firefighters. These are pragmatic problem-solvers and rescuers who need to deal with tangible facts and deal with life or death decisions on a day to day basis. They are not usually the types to get scared by things that go bump in the night.

The firefighters at Engine Company No. 1, whose names have been withheld for perhaps obvious reasons, were very sincere in their claims of the paranormal. It is a volunteer house, with all the firefighters living nearby and on-call around the clock. They don’t all reside there, as in a traditional fire house, but there are many nights where one or more of them will spend the night. The house itself was built in 1905, in response to public outcry after a girl was killed in a fire because none of the other houses could respond quickly enough. Nobody is known to have died in the building, and only one firefighter in the house’s history has died on the job, and that was out on a call, not in the building itself. Still, firefighters here reported hearing lots of footsteps coming from upstairs when nobody else is in the building; voices being heard; doors being slammed or banged; feelings of being watched; and a dark, shadowy apparition that appears at the top of the stairs.

We conducted our investigation on July 24th, 2009. The investigation began with some quick interviews with the firefighters stationed at the house, followed by a tour of the building. It consisted of a large garage area, which housed the fire truck, a kitchen, and a conference room area with a small restroom and some closets. The second floor contained the stairway, a small hallway, and then the living quarters, which was essentially a large room with a dining room table, some couches and a recliner, a number of display cases with pictures and vintage equipment, and a TV. We then set up our equipment and prepared for a long evening of investigating. We usually set up a safe room, which is a room where we can monitor our equipment, and it is usually the room with the least amount of paranormal activity. In this case we used the conference room.

Throughout an investigation, we rotate in teams of two, with two team members investigating a room, and the other two back in the safe room monitoring the equipment. We conduct EMF sweeps, to see what the Electro-Magnetic Field readings of the room are, to get a baseline. We take lots of pictures, both digital and 35mm. We always have a camcorder running, to document our investigation for later review. And we conduct EVP sessions (electronic voice phenomenon), where we ask questions to the supposed entity in the location, and reviewing our audio recorders later to see if we captured any voices. Investigations generally run from 6-8 hours, starting our recorders at 9 or 10, and running until 3 or 4am. Once we’re done, we break down the equipment and go home. Evidence review can take up to two weeks. If we set up 8 video cameras, and run each one for 8 hours, that’s a total of 48 hours of video to look through. Not to mention hours and hours of audio to listen to.

For this investigation, we focused mainly on the upstairs living quarters and the stairway, as that’s where the bulk of the activity was reported. During the course of investigations, we sometimes have what we call personal experiences. These are things we can’t document, such as if we see something but a camera is not focused on it at the time. During this investigation, we didn’t really have any personal experiences. We did have a brief period of the feeling of being watched in the upstairs quarters, but it didn’t last. The room definitely had a spooky vibe at first, but it didn’t last. Again, it’s only a personal feeling, so we don’t consider it as evidence. Psychological or parapsychological, who knows? One of our EMF meters was reacting a bit strangely during our EVP session, almost as if in response to some of our questions, and we can’t explain why it did this. As I write this, there is perhaps an hour or two left of evidence that we need to review, but so far, we have found nothing out of the ordinary.

Many times when we think of ghosts and hauntings, we think of horror movies, and Hollywood special effects. “Poltergeist,” “The Exorcist,” and other movies like that tend to portray the paranormal in what I call the “all Hell breaking lose” way. Nothing is really subtle. Voices are loud. Big, heavy objects move on their own. Apparitions appear at will, scaring people left and right. The ghosts are powerful and in control and terrifying. In real life, ghost hunting is not that spectacular. Most times, we spend the entire night sitting in a dark room, sitting still and being quiet. Heaters or air conditioning units are turned off, so it’s often uncomfortable. We drink lots of coffee and eat lots of candy to stay awake. We don’t have proton packs, and we don’t need them. Usually, the most interesting things are found during evidence review, and even then, you are talking about perhaps hearing a spoken word, maybe two, that you can’t account for, in 12 or 16 hours of audio you must listen to, or a single odd light that doesn’t belong and only lasts for 3 seconds, in 48 hours of video review.

We don’t get paid a dime to do any of this, and in fact we spend lots of our own money in order to be able to do this. So it’s not like the movies, even though I love “Poltergeist” and “The Exorcist” and “The Haunting” (the original, not the awful Liam Neeson version). But it’s still a lot of fun, and when we do catch that little piece of evidence that we can’t find a rational explanation for, it’s as thrilling as any of the best horror movies you’ll ever see. A full report on our investigation will be up shortly on our website, www.epicparanormal.com

Retro Review: The Changeling

Much has been made on here of movies like The Return of the Living Dead and The Exorcist, which played big parts in making me a horror fan. But I don't think I've done enough justice to this picture, and I'm about to remedy that. The Changeling was, without a doubt, one of the most soul-numbingly terrifying movies of my entire childhood, and it has stayed with me ever since.

For my money, this flick ranks right up there with the likes of The Uninvited and The Haunting as one of the truly classic ghost movies. With amazing restraint--as all the best ghost movies demonstrate--The Changeling proves that when it comes to haunted terrors, less is always more.

The great George C. Scott, one of my favorite actors of all time, plays composer John Russell, who takes refuge in an old Victorian mansion after his family is tragically killed in a car accident. While there, he comes into unwitting contact with the spirit of a murdered child, who reaches out to him to try and solve the mystery of his death.

It goes without saying that Scott is magnificent. This man was truly an acting Goliath, and the world is a lesser place without him. As Russell, he puts forth just the right combination of pathos, fear and outrage to really make his character work. We're with him the whole way, experiencing every terror that he does, in every detail.

Director Peter Medak is known more for his work in television, but still, what a formidable TV resume it is: Space 1999, the '80s Twilight Zone, Shelly Duvall's Faerie Tale Theatre (the best!), Beauty and the Beast, Tales from the Crypt, Kindred: The Embraced, The Wire, Carnivale, Masters of Horror. He also did the underrated early Gary Oldman flick, Romeo Is Bleeding. Plus, the script for The Changeling is by William Gray, screenwriter of the original Prom Night!

There is some imagery in the movie that has remained with me for the nearly three decades since I first saw it. That may be simply because I was so young, but I tend to think this movie would've affected profoundly no matter my age. The empty wheelchair; the ball bouncing down the stairs; and most mind-scarringly of all, that repeated shot of the little boy's face underwater in the bathtub. Talk about Kindertrauma! I can't tell you how deeply that messed me up as a kid--phobia of baths ever since!

The greatest thing about The Changeling is that it manages to get under your skin without a single drop of blood, no real special effects to speak of, no over-the-top gimmickry. I'm not saying I have anything against these things--actually, I love them all. But it's also nice to experience a horror movie that doesn't necessarily have to rely on all that for scares. It's a welcome change of pace. What can I tell you, I'll always be a sucker for a good ol' fashioned gothic tale...

It should be mentioned also that the great old-time actor Melvyn Douglas appears in this, in one of his last roles. Douglas starred in The Old Dark House (yeah, he's that old), The Vampire Bat, Ernst Lubitsch's Ninotchka with Greta Garbo, Hud and so many others. The man was a bona fide Hollywood legend, and incidentally, his last role would come one year later in another terrific ghost movie, the aptly titled Ghost Story. If you haven't seen his Oscar-winning performance in Being There with Peter Sellers, treat yourself immediately. The man is gold.

But make no mistake, this is George C. Scott's movie. This guy is such a gem, and I've always worshiped him for performances in movies like Anatomy of a Murder, The Exorcist III, The Hindenburg, and of course his transcendent turn in Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove as the war-mongering Gen. Buck Turgidson. But, it goes without saying, that for me, he'll always be best identified with the real-life general he played in his greatest role ever, George S. Patton. Scott doesn't quite get to flex his chops as much in The Changeling as in some of these other flicks, but it's interesting to see him in a more subdued part anyway.

The Changeling is one of those excellent horror movies that doesn't usually get the level of attention it deserves. So I'm saying it right here and now--do yourself a favor and rent it if you have never seen it. And if you have, rent it again. Either way, you're guaranteed two hours of sublime spookiness.

Dream Casting the New Ghostbusters

It's pretty much a foregone conclusion now that Ghostbusters III is definitely going to happen. And the casting rumors have been flying fast and furious ever since news broke that the plot would revolve around the original boys in gray turning over the proton packs to a team of five newcomers.

Word on the street was that the Apatow players would be taking on the roles, meaning people like Jonah Hill, Seth Rogen and Paul Rudd. However, in an interview today with Ain't It Cool News, co-writer Egon Spengler himself, Mr. Harold Ramis, denied any and all casting rumors, saying, "No, none of that’s real. There will be young ghostbusters, but no specific casting is real."

With that mind, I thought I'd engage in a little mental masturbation and try and come up with my own ideal team of new ghostbusters--ruling out any of the Apatow crew or anyone else previously rumored. So here's who would be cleanin' up the town in Ghostbusters III if B-Sol had his way:

Vince Vaughn
In my mind, the star of Wedding Crashers would be the perfect successor to the "Peter Venkman" archetype, in that he can play goofball, but also has that quirky leading man quality to him. Close your eyes, and you can totally picture him in the jumpsuit, can't you?

Louis C.K.
I've been touting this guy as one of the most brilliant comic minds today, an inheritor to the George Carlin throne, if you ask me. His short-lived HBO series Lucky Louie wasn't given the chance it deserved, but proved that he is as funny a comic actor as he is a standup comic.

Andy Samberg
The young upstart of the group, who manages to somehow combine complete ridiculousness with a certain vibe of weird coolness in a way that none of the original ghostbusters quite did. He's today's "it" comedian, and would bring mucho bankability to the 25-year-old franchise. Hopefully, he'd find himself on a haunted boat, as well.

Adam Goldberg
And another very Jewish comic actor, in the grand tradition of the original lineup of clipped comedians. Goldberg would fit very nicely into the Ramis-esque brainy straight man role--and I'm not just saying that because we had lunch in the same Brooklyn deli the afternoon of my daughter's baby-naming luncheon.

Patrice O'Neal
In my estimation, the funniest damn comedian you've never heard of. And if you have, my apologies, you're a lot cooler than I gave you credit for. O'Neal brings a razor-sharp, infectious wit that would make him a whole lot more than "the token black ghostbuster".

That's five right there, but to address the suggestions made by Dan Akroyd that at least one of the new members would be female, I wracked my brain to select an additional member should they indeed choose to go that route....

Anna Faris
I've caught a lot of heat in the past because for the most part, I don't often find female comedians funny. Boo, hisss, I know. I think comedy is much stronger in the male genome. But my ingrained chauvinism aside, I will say that the single funniest comic actress working today is Ms. Faris, who has the potential to be this generation's Lucille Ball.

So... anyone important listening out there? Let's make it happen, people!

Horror Movie Makeover: Amadeus

The balance of good and evil is an essential element of the world we live in. The struggle between God and Satan is central to this balance--for as much of an influence of beauty and good God has in our mortal realm, so it is the sworn duty of the Evil One to oppose him, to denigrate him, to tear down and degrade his finest creations.

In the 18th century, God brought into the world a perfect artistic mind--the musical genius Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. His compositions would change the world, creating a direct conduit to the divine through human artistic creation. And so, it was entirely predictable that the forces of Hell would do everything in their power to destroy him...

The vessel chosen by Satan would be one Antonio Salieri, a mediocre court composer in Vienna who once adhered to the precepts of Christ and humbly did his best at creating music for the Emperor of Austria. But when the now-grown former child prodigy Mozart arrives in Vienna, something stirs in Salieri that provides just the opening the Devil requires. Consumed with unreasoning jealousy, and unable to comprehend how a God-fearing man like himself could be so utterly eclipsed by a childish and vulgar fop like Mozart, Salieri begins to be filled with unreasoning jealousy and contempt.

Plunged deeper into a pit of despair with every accolade heaped upon the young German composer, Salieri begins to know violent, bloody, homicidal thoughts. He rejects Christ utterly, casting the crucifix into the fire and accepting the forces of Darkness as his new guiding impetus. If he cannot be like Mozart, he reasons, then he must annihilate Mozart. If God would choose such a man to be his vessel, than Salieri would make it his life's work to spit in the face of God and ruin his perfect creation. Satan was bent on having the last laugh this time.

But in order to accomplish the murder of Mozart, more pieces of the puzzle are required. Ever the opportunist, vengeful Lucifer identifies Mozart's greatest weakess--namely, his need to please his overbearing, manipulative father, Leopold. Bringing about his sudden death, the Enemy of God returns his immortal spirit to the living world, to do his vile bidding in an alliance with Salieri.

Possessed by the ghost of Leopold Mozart, Salieri hatches a vicious plot to crush Mozart's sanity, and his life. Dressing in the same macabre costume once worn by Mozart's father at a masquerade ball, Salieri visits his archrival, demanding in anonymity that he write a mass for the dead. The room rank with the cruel presence of his father's unkind spirit, Mozart's realizes the true meaning of what's being asked of him.

His guilt at disappointing his dead father driving him relentlessly, Mozart hurls himself into the composition of the Requiem Mass. Haunted constantly by his father's disapproving ghost, the composer slips further and further into financial ruin, drug addiction, and woefully poor health. Slowly but surely, Salieri's Satanic scheme saps away the life force of God's brilliant and beautiful creation.

At long last, confined to his death bed, Mozart is visited by none other than Salieri, who sees to it that the final nails are driven into the coffin, pushing his rival into the grave, while also completing the dreaded mass of death. Satan's hateful plan completed, the fearsome music created on that night becomes Mozart's own death mass, played before his bloated corpse is dumped in an open, unmarked grave to decay and be eaten away with lime.

Reveling in his apparent triumph, Salieri believes he has won the day. However, doing the Devil's bidding always has its price. In the case of Salieri, that price is the loss of his mind as a result of the gnawing guilt of the evil he has committed. Driven to madness, the once humble, religious man is twisted into an aged mockery of his former self, living out the rest of his life caged up like an animal with the cast-off horrors of the so-called Enlightenment Era. God's vessel has been destroyed. And in the end, so has Satan's.

New Ghost Flick Generating Buzz at Tribeca

New York's Tribeca Film Festival is once again in full swing, and just like last year, when Let the Right One In floored everyone and took home the top prize, it looks once again like a horror film is set to make big waves.

This time around, that film would be The Eclipse, written and directed by Irish playwright Conor McPherson, and starring Ciaran Hinds (who kicks various assortments of ass in the enviable role of Julius Caesar on HBO's impeccable series Rome). Reuters is reporting that a slew of distribution execs turned out Friday for the world premiere, with companies such as Magnolia, Roadside and the ever-reliable Liongate circling the picture for a possible shot at distributing it in the States.

The creepy tale of a widower in an Irish seaside village who develops a relationship with a visiting horror novelist while being haunted by supernatural entities, The Eclipse also stars Aidan Quinn, and is being seen as a movie with potential "word-of-mouth-hit" written all over it. If The Eclipse does indeed get signed, it would be the first Tribeca offering to land a major American distribution deal since Transamerica did so in 2005.

So you heard it here first, folks. The Vault championed [Rec] in 2007 and Let the Right One In in 2008. Might The Eclipse become my pet project for '09??

The Haunting in Connecticut, Indeed

The current owners of the home in Southington, Connecticut which inspired this weekend's upcoming film The Haunting in Connecticut are reporting that curious fans are invading their privacy, according to a story today in Newsday.

The house, which was once a funeral parlor (!), was rumored to be haunted as a result of the bizarre experiences of the family that lived there some 20 years ago. And just as then, loiterers are once again showing up to get a gander at the place. And the movie hasn't even opened yet!

Naturally, the current owners insist their house isn't haunted, and local police have added extra patrols to the neighborhood to keep potential trespassers away. I was just watching the making-of documentary on the Texas Chainsaw Massacre special edition DVD set, and Gunnar Hansen mentioned that the first time he realized the movie was going to be a big deal was when curious teenagers started showing up at the house from the movie. Hmmm....

The Uninvited and Its Great Symphonic Theme

I'm taking advantage of a rare opportunity today, and trying out something a little bit different. As some of you know, horror is not my only bag, baby--and, in fact, I have another blog entitled Standard of the Day, which celebrates the classic pop tunes of the Great American Songbook.

Predictably, there isn't too much of an overlap between these two areas. Especially not in recent decades, when the music of horror films has been of a decidedly different nature. However, one shining point of intersection is the superb 1944 Lewis Allen movie The Haunting, starring Ray Milland, Ruth Hussey and Gail Russell.

Possibly cinema's second-best ghost story--behind only the original The Haunting (1963)--The Uninvited is a classic haunted house movie, generating a unique mood of eerie melancholy that it's able to sustain from beginning to end. Unlike The Haunting, which opts for outright terror, The Uninvited has a sad, dreamlike quality to it that links it to some of the film noir pictures of the same period.

One of the devices used by Allen to create this mood is the film's theme song, "Stella By Starlight". In the movie, it's composed by Milland's character Roderick Fitzgerald, who plays it for Russell's Stella Meredith. It's quite literally a haunting tune that becomes much more than a leitmotif. Rather, it builds to become the driving thematic force of the entire film.

During the 1930s-1950s, it was extremely common for pop songs to be specifically written for movies, and then marketed off the movie's success and vice versa. Kind of a proto-cross marketing technique. Yet it wasn't common at all for this to be done with a horror movie. In fact, to my knowledge The Uninvited represents the only time this was done, at least successfully.

In reality, the song was composed by popular orchestra leader Victor Young. Although it has no lyrics in the movie, the decision was made to give it lyrics on paper, so that artists would be more apt to record it and make a hit out of it. Young's collaborator Ned Washington was brought in to do the honors (the duo had previously worked together on "My Foolish Heart"--which, not so coincidentally, can also briefly be heard in The Uninvited.)

Over the years, "Stella By Starlight" has gained so much prominence as an American pop standard that it has almost completely lost its association with the film from which it originated. In fact, it may even be better known--a possibility sadly supported by the fact that The Uninvited has yet to be released on DVD.

The Uninvited possesses something few horror films of recent decades do--beauty. It is a truly beautiful film, and its theme is suitably beautiful as well. This is why, although at first it may seem odd that a horror movie would feature a timeless American standard as its theme song, after viewing the film, you understand. Of course, unless you have it on VHS, you'll have to wait for it on Turner Classic Movies in order to do that...

For more on "Stella By Starlight", check out Standard of the Day.

Bill Murray Ready for Ghostbusters 3

Happy Monday, Vault Dwellers! And a happy Monday it certainly is, especially for all you fans of everything ectoplasm out there. For months now, ever since the announcement of that new Ghostbusters video game with the voices of all the original actors, rumors of a new GB sequel have been swirling about like so many free-floating, full-torso vaporous apparitions.

And according to SciFiWire, on Friday, the one and only Dr. Peter Venkman himself, Bill Murray, stated in no uncertain terms during a press conference for his new movie City of Ember that he is completely open to donning the proton pack another time for the new flick, currently being scripted by Lee Eisenberg and Gene Stupnitsky of NBC's The Office.

"It's a great idea that they hired these two guys to do it," Murray said. "It could be a fresh look at it. And it could be funny."

Murray, like most fans, was let down by Ghostbusters 2 (1989), and it left a bad taste in his mouth as far as the franchise was concerned. I know I can remember walking out of the theater from it feeling like I had been mugged, and I know I'm not the only one:

They had this idea [for Ghostbusters 2], but it didn't turn out to be the [same] idea when I arrived on the set. They'd written a whole different movie than the one [initially discussed]. And the special effects guys... got their hands on it. And it was just not the same movie. There were a few great scenes in it, but it wasn't the same movie. So there's never been an interest in a third Ghostbusters because the second one was kind of disappointing... for me, anyway.

This Old Haunted House

Taking a little break from speaking about horror fiction, I would like to talk a little about horror fact. Don’t hold this against me, but I used to live in a haunted house. “A haunted house?” you say? Yeah, a haunted house. Two story, full basement, fully attached, single bath, on 77th Street in Brooklyn. For 19 years.

How is this possible, you say? I don’t know. I don’t really believe in the supernatural [though I do not affirmatively deny it, either]. But the house was haunted, and you don’t have to take my word for it. You can ask just about anyone who ever lived there, or even anyone who ever spent a little time there.

Like I said, it is a pretty nondescript house. In fact, the only thing that can really give any credence whatsoever to this series of vignettes is that fact that the house is rather old for our part of Brooklyn, built sometimes during World War I, and probably before America’s entry into it in 1917.

When I was a kid, my mother’s parents lived there, and we moved in when I was 4. I don’t recall really any strange experiences when I was that young, or any stories, but I didn’t like the basement. The stories would come later, which would only confirm events that I was around for. In the spirit of full disclosure, I never actually SAW anything. But my sister and my parents both did. My experiences with the haunted aspect were just amorphous feelings, instincts, hackles.

See, this house, which I loved dearly, and had many great times in, was the seat of my family’s warmth and love. But, for whatever reason, the shadows in certain corners were darker, more inky, than in other places. And there were certain parts which just didn’t feel right – a closet in a bedroom, corners in the basement – and at times it seemed like there were places light didn’t, couldn’t, or wouldn’t, penetrate.

Like I said, I never affirmatively experienced anything. But I can remember being in the basement [which was always disorderly, chock full of stuff in random stacks] as a child, either playing with electric trains set up down there [it was the only area big enough], or looting though the vast, moldering library for many hours at a time, amusing myself with finds from the magical to the titillating. And at first, when I would turn on the lights, and the shadows would flee, I would be fine, and I would set to doing what I planned. And sometimes, after an uneventful while, I would feel something. I would feel it on the nape of my neck, or the base of my spine. And the little hairs would rise. And suddenly I realized that beyond the light lay the shadows in the corners. And then I didn’t feel so safe and secure, and when the opportune moment would arise, I would bolt back up the rickety stairs to the safety of the upper floors.

Then there would be other times, when I was old enough to be home alone [I guess around 12 or so], and I would come home from school, and my sister and brothers were at the sitter’s house, and I would, as just about every kid would do, watch TV. I would start watching at 3:30pm, watching GI Joe, the Transformers, Voltron, and maybe some other half hour long commercials. As the hours crept by, the house would get progressively darker, the shadows slinking ever closer. But me, being in front of the boob-tube, would seldom notice until maybe I was thirsty for more Sunny Delite. As I would turn to get up, it would dawn upon me that the house was, aside from the pale TV glow, entirely dark. And I mean COMPLETELY dark. And that is when I would feel like I was on display, out in the open. I cannot say I felt any overt malevolence, but it was certainly no attention I wanted. Again, instinct would take over and I would freeze until I could summon the will to move, and when I moved it was with the speed I could muster, and I would bolt to the nearest and brightest light I could. Once that light was on, I would then systematically turn on all the lights in the common areas of the house, and again breathe a sigh of relief, for once again I was delivered.

Okay, you're thinking: “Alright, this guy says he lived in a haunted house, and all he is telling us is he is a little wussy who was afraid of the dark.” But I said I never saw anything. However, when I was about 13, and my sister was about 8, and my whole family was home one weekend evening, my sister out of nowhere begins to scream bloody murder. She was upstairs in the bathroom, my mother preparing the usual Saturday feast, and my Dad and I in the living room, probably watching some type of sports. My father and I run up to see what’s wrong, and she related the following: she was taking care of business in the usual fashion when a silhouetted face appeared in the window of the bathroom door [there was an old style, fogged window on the upper third of the door], and the handle began to rattle. She realized it was too tall to be any of us, and thought there was an intruder, so she began to scream at a volume and pitch only achievable by 8 year old girls, and as she did so, the face disappeared.

My Dad and I [mostly my Dad, I was only 13], checked the upstairs, and nothing was amiss or out of place. My sister was not one to make such stories up, and she was clearly shaken from the event. That night we had my aunts [my Mom’s sisters] coming for dinner, and we told them about this strange story, and how silly my little sister was for scaring herself.

Instead of sharing in the laugh, they both looked at each other, and then at my Mom, and with knowing smirks, they each began to tell tales of when they were girls it the house, and of strange goings on, etc. One story they told me was of meeting an old lady after Church, named Mrs. Loughlin. Mrs. Loughlin and her husband lived in the house before my grandparents and sold them the house. Mrs. Loughlin, according to my aunts, told them that one day, years after her husband had died she walked into the bathroom to see him standing there shaving, only to disappear after he turned around to look at her. She then told of a boy, in his teenage years, who had lived there before her, and had died tragically while riding the train to a school dance, and was said to still inhabit the walls. This was the first time I realized that I lived in a haunted house.

Time passed, and the house remained in its usual state – shadows darker than usual, corners that remained uninviting, yet we were all living happily within. My parents had two more kids. While I still never saw anything, I would mark how objects would occasionally disappear, and reappear later in unexplained fashions. In fact, I named this effect “Fred” and joked with friends that Fred lived in the basement.

Then one summer evening before I went away to college, I came home late from hanging out with the guys. My parents had had company for dinner that night, and were still awake talking after the company had left. As I come in my father calls me over to the dining room, saying they has something to tell me, which turned out to be the definitive ghost story from 77th Street.

The story went as follows: after the usual large Saturday night feast of steaks and all the sides, and after the company left and the boys [then 8 and 5 years old, respectively] were put to bed, Mom and Dad stayed up, talking over a glass of wine. Both my sister and I went out. At one point, when all was quiet, they hear a snuffling, a whimpering, of a child, and cautious footsteps one at a time coming down the stairs. My Mom said she called out to the footsteps, thinking it was one of my brothers upset at something, maybe not feeling well, or had had a nightmare. When she called the footsteps stopped. My father told me he called out next, this time using their names, but there was no response. At this point they both realized something was amiss, and my Dad got up and started towards the stairs. He then told me that as he approached the stairs he heard the footsteps go up, one at a time but quickly, and as he got the foot of the stairs, he saw a shadow turning the corner of the landing. He went up the stairs, and there found both my brothers both sound asleep, wrapped tightly up in their blankets. They had never gotten out of bed.

It was clear they both were disturbed by this tale, though also somewhat exhilarated, in that they felt that they were privy to something truly mysterious and otherworldly, or at the very least, weird. They asked what I thought, and I didn’t have a good answer for them.

Years later, the year I graduated college, our family moved out to a new house. My Dad and I spent many hours cleaning out the various corners of the 77th Street house, including the most forbidding of corner and closets. It was in more ways than one a cathartic activity. The next Spring, while we were waiting to sell the old house on 77th, I was using the all but empty house as a study hall for me and my study group from graduate school. We were there daily, and we even made up keys for them in case they had to get in and I wasn’t there. During our finals that Spring I was going to meet my fellow students one day, and for whatever reason I arrived a few minutes after they did. I found them both sitting on the front stoop, with the front door open, and the both of them wide-eyed and ashen faced. I asked what was wrong, and Pat said that he didn’t know what was up, but they both had no idea what was going on. I turned to Cheech, and he said that they were sitting there, talking about the day’s study itinerary, when there was a flash of light from nowhere, and a set of bongos that Pat [a Deadhead] had brought over on another day began to play by themselves. At that these two fully grown men, in the middle of broad daylight, ran out of the house in fear. I am not making this up.

At that point I was constrained to explain the history of my soon to be former house, and after that it took a little reassuring to get them back inside. I had to say it was a little creepy, but nobody ever got hurt. After a little while, we reconvened our study group, but they were never able to just let the random sound of the house settling go without a furtive glance.

I swear to you, gentle readers, that the events as set forth above are 100% true, and that I only changed some names for the sake of privacy in these electronic days.