An orphaned girl is dragged into the underworld for a raucous party. Made 4 years before Coco.
POD 366, EP. 142: TRICKY HALLOWEEN TREATS
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Discussed in this episode:
Catch-22 (1970): Read the Canonically Weird entry! The absurdist antiwar classic is now on 4K UHD from Shout Select. Buy Catch-22.
Chronicles of a Wandering Saint (2023): Read Gregory J. Smalley’s review. Argentinian magical realism/satire about religion and the afterlife, now on Blu-ray with lots of extras including a bonus short from director Tomás Gómez Bustillo. Buy Chronicles of a Wandering Saint.
Dracula (2025): A series of riffs on the Dracula character, including A.I. inspired segments, by Romanian satirist Radu Jude (who considers the film his tribute to Ed Wood Jr.). Not to be confused with Luc Besson‘s upcoming Dracula: A Love Tale. Dracula official Facebook page (mostly in Romanian language).
Dust Devil (1992): A mysterious wanderer in the Namibian wilderness may be a supernatural entity. This Richard Stanley horror movie is often described as muddled and hallucinatory. Buy Dust Devil.
Edward Scissorhands (1990): Read Scott Sentinella’s List Candidate review. Tim Burton‘s weirdo fairy tale joins the steelbook 4K UHD + Blu-ray crowd. Buy Edward Scissorhands.
In the Mouth of Madness (1994): Read Gregory J. Smalley’s review. John Carpenter‘s Stephen King/H.P. Lovecraft tribute gets a massive 4K UHD (only) release from Arrow. Buy In the Mouth of Madness.
Malpertuis (1972): Read the Canonically Weird entry! It’s the Blu-ray debut of Harry Kümel‘s mythological mystery. Buy Malpertuis.
The Toxic Avenger (2023): Read Gregory J. Smalley’s review. The remake is now out on physical media in your choice of DVD, basic Blu-ray, or three different flavors of Collector’s Edition (Blu-ray only, 4K UHD + Blu-ray steelbook, or standard combo pack). Buy The Toxic Avenger (2023).
“Urotsukidoji: Sequels of the Overfiend” (1990-1196): As far as we can tell, this includes every sequel to the tentacle porn saga Urotsukidōji: Legend of the Overfiend, over 8 hours of content in all, including the never-on-US-video “Final Chapter.” Buy “Urotsukidoji: Sequels of the Overfiend.”
Vincent Must Die (2023): Read Giles Edwards’ Apocrypha Candidate review. Oddly, this French black comedy gets its first US theatrical release as part of an AMC theaters double feature, coupled with the more mainstream horror Hallow Road. Starts on Halloween (today!) and plays through Nov. 5. No word on future distribution plans, but we’d expect to see it show up on VOD shortly. Hallow Road + Vincent Must Die announcement.
NEPOTISM CORNER:
“The Color Out of Space”: Giles Edwards narrates the H.P. Lovecraft story, with the band Ignore That Door providing dark ambient audio.
WHAT’S IN THE PIPELINE:
No guest (firmly) scheduled for next week’s Pod 366, but Giles and Greg will return to discuss the week’s new weird news and releases. In written content, Shane Wilson lands on reader suggestion Tierra (1996), Enar Clarke removes another one from the reader-suggestion queue by exterminating Spider [Zirneklis] (1992), Giles Edwards embarks on another choose-your-own adventure movie experiment with Jason Trost‘s brand-new Afar, and Gregory J. Smalley finally gets around to Bugonia (promised last week, but this week for sure—hopefully). Onward and weirdward!
CAPSULE: PHANTASMATAPES (2025)
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DIRECTED BY: Annie Choi, Joseph A. Ziemba, Norman Earl Thompson (The Revenge of Dr. X), Joseph Green (The Brain That Wouldn’t Die)
FEATURING: James Craig, Tota Kondo (Revenge of Dr. X); Jason Evers, Virginia Leith (The Brain That Wouldn’t Die)
PLOT: A double-feature of The Revenge of Dr. X and The Brain That Wouldn’t Die, presented as if it was taped off of a local TV broadcast complete with VHS tracking errors, amateur commercials, and more surprises.
COMMENTS: OK, so TV stations used to broadcast cheapo horror films late at night (especially weekend nights), interrupted by badly acted commercials for local pizza parlors, shoe stores, and video rental joints. If you never experienced this phenomenon—or if, for some sick reason, you want to relive this insomniac entertainment—the retro-weirdos at Bleeding Skull have come to your rescue.
Thankfully, they don’t recreate the experience faithfully, but instead imagine the broadcast as it might have appeared if you were dead tired and fading in and out of consciousness, or if you had the flu and had taken a greater than recommended dose of Nyquil before tuning in. First off, the movies are heavily edited, to fit into a brisk 72 minute total runtime, including commercials, station IDs, and a few other intrusive surprises I won’t spoil. The ruthless edits are not a problem with the Ed Wood Jr.-scripted Dr. X, an extremely dull and padded Frankenstein variation about a NASA scientist who decides to spend his vacation in Japan engineering a giant, mobile Venus flytrap. In fact, this crap still drags a little when cut down to about 30 minutes. The Brain That Wouldn’t Die moves much faster, and is still relatively coherent in the edited form, but they unfortunately cut out one of the WTF-iest moments (the catfight scene). The nearly-coherent editing exaggerates the surreal elements of the originals, while jettisoning a lot of blah filler. (Watching Dr. X unedited is recommended to cinema masochists only.)
Secondly, the two movies are not only edited, but manipulated. First off, synthy new 80s vintage soundtracks have been added— a pipe organ patch with a Casio keyboard beat underneath, that kind of thing. The digital doodling is more profound in the colorful Dr. X. Tracking errors and faded color are kept (and new ones are added), along with overlaid images: sometimes from other scenes from the original film, and sometimes from outside sources, so that suns and galaxies and landscapes and abstract dust storms occasionally play over the duller imagery. The Brain That Wouldn’t Die is less altered than Dr. X—it plays straight for most of the time—but there are a few fun stylizations. One motif is that, in the more delirious second half, the mad doctor’s assistant is always shown in a different “film stock,” which looks like they played a battered VHS tape on a particularly staticky cathode tube TV set, filmed it with a cheap camcorder, and re-edited the new footage into the movie. Another cool idea is that when Jan’s severed head is monologizing, the “camera” does a slow zoom to focus directly on her mouth. Along with the soundtrack, these experiments supply the new reimagined content. I only wish they had pushed things even further. (The trailer is actually a little misleading, implying more video manipulation than actually shows up in the finished product.) The concept of using public domain B-movies as canvases for Stan Brakhage-type experiments is a thrilling one, and that potential is barely scratched here. Hopefully they will push the conceit further with the promised “Phantasmatapes 2.”
The Blu-ray includes uncut versions of both features, in VHS full-frame scans complete with lousy sound and picture quality. The Blu-ray wraps the whole package up with a commentary track from Choi and Ziemba and three nostalgia-themed shorts: a mini-documentary on the “Max Headroom” pirate signal broadcast from 1987, a supercut of “Casper the Friendly Ghost” scares, and another mini-doc on the early 80s moral panic around the Dungeons and Dragons game. All in all, this compilation will resonate strongly with a certain demographic—you probably have already decided if you’re in it—and is at least worthy of a gander for others.
WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:
No other critics’ reviews located.
![Phantasma Tapes: Volume One [Blu-ray]](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/517+kf4mNAL._SL500_.jpg)
- Region Free Blu-Ray
THEY CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: THE GOLEM (1920) / GOLEM (1979)
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When Dracula, Frankenstein’s monster, the Mummy, and a host of other horror icons were lining up at the doors of Universal Studios in search of eternal fame, somehow the humble golem failed to get the invite. An immensely powerful beast molded out of clay, brought to life by a mystic Hebrew incantation, it may have had too much in common with Mary Shelley’s invention; or more likely, Hollywood’s Jewish studio chiefs prudently sidestepped anything that would offend sensitive and vociferous gentile audiences. Still, even without the spotlight, the legend of the golem has quietly endured, so much so that Golems appear in the vaunted Reader Suggestion Queue twice. Today we examine these two tales, one a literal origin story, the other something more abstract.
THE GOLEM: HOW HE CAME INTO THE WORLD (1920)
Der Golem, wie er in die Welt kam
DIRECTED BY: Paul Wegener, Carl Boese
FEATURING: Paul Wegener, Albert Steinrück, Lothar Müthel, Lyda Salmonova, Ernst Deutsch
PLOT: When the Emperor decrees that all Jews must leave the city of Prague, Rabbi Loew invokes the help of the demon Astaroth to construct a defender for his people out of clay.
COMMENTS: An early classic of German expressionist cinema, you will find quite a few reviews of this silent rendering of the original folk tale about the avenger of clay. They tend to focus on three main topics: the source material that came to inform the film, the peculiar history of how it came to be made, and a detailed recap of the plot. It feels like someone’s got my number, because that’s where my instincts would normally lead me, as well. So let’s try and cover those basesin one fell swoop, and then we can turn in a different direction: the ancient folktale was codified in a 1915 novel, which writer/director/star Wegener spun into a trilogy. The first two, set in contemporary times, are now lost to history, but the third, a prequel delivering the backstory in which a rabbi summons the warrior to defend the Jewish people but soon loses control of his creation, has survived the years, and that leads us here.
That background established, it’s important to note how neatly The Golem serves to meet the moment while paving the way for the horror legends of the future. While the story is set in medieval Prague, the fanciful decoration owes more to Méliès than the Middle Ages: impossible peaks tower over the city, while buildings are adorned with twisty staircases and walls never Continue reading THEY CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: THE GOLEM (1920) / GOLEM (1979)
ALL THE HAUNTS BE OURS: A COMPENDIUM OF FOLK HORROR, VOLUME 2
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Severin Films. 13 disc set.
Severin Films continues their groundbreaking folk-horror “college course in a box” set with the second semester. Expanding and exploring on themes and offering more selections to discover and debate, this time around it has 24 features representing 18 countries, along with tons of extras. Acknowledging the literary roots of the genre, Vol. 2 also comes with a 250 page book, “A Folk Horror Storybook,” a collection of 12 short stories by noted writers in the genre—Ramsey Campbell, Kim Newman, Cassandra Khaw amongst them—with an introduction by Kier-La Janisse, who returns as producer/curator of the whole shebang. The “expansion of themes” may cause some to feel cheated, as there are only a handful of films that fit the expected parameters of “horror” here. But that objection may be more of a failing of the viewer. There are elements of the frightful in all of the selections, and although perhaps “uncanny” or “spectral” would be better terms, “horror” makes for a good umbrella.
Disc 1 features the UK with a film by writer Sean (“England’s Screaming”) Hogan, To Fire You Come At Last (2023), a knowing homage to BBC shows like “Dead of Night” and “Ghost Stories For Christmas.” Four men carry a coffin to a graveyard along a “corpse road” and encounter dangers: from each other, and from something else. Bonus features include commentary by Hogan and producers, along with an earlier short by Hogan, “We Always Find Ourselves In The Sea,” also with commentary, and a separate featurette on corpse roads.
Paired with To Fire is Psychomania, a 1973 B-movie by Don Sharp involving juvenile delinquent bikers whose leader (Nicky Henson from Witchfinder General) learns the secret of returning from the dead—and promptly does it! He then starts recruiting the other members to follow suit. There’s witchery/devil/frog worship, George Sanders (in his last role), a sappy ballad, and lots of cycle action, making for some fine British cheese. This was a previous Severin release with featurettes about the actors and music, all which have been ported over, along with a new commentary by Hellebore Magazine editor Maria J. Perez Cuervo and a new short documentary on stone circles and standing stones.
Disc 2 focuses on two American features: The Enchanted (1984) with Julius Harris and Larry Miller (acting under the name Will Sennet), directed by Carter Lord, and 1973’s Who Fears The Devil? (AKA The Legend of Hillbilly John), with Hedges Capers and Severn Darden, directed by John Newland. Based on a story by Elizabeth Coatsworth, Continue reading ALL THE HAUNTS BE OURS: A COMPENDIUM OF FOLK HORROR, VOLUME 2