Fascinating early werewolf novel that is not, even so, the werewolf equivalent of Dracula. Dracula is myth brought to life; Endore reverses the formula and equates life, in all its ugliness, to myth. Convinced by overwhelming circumstantial evidence that his "nephew" is a werewolf, a Frenchman tries first to lock him up, then, when the boy escapes, to track him down in Paris. The boy, now a young man, falls in love with a girl with an unusual attraction to death, desperately hoping their love will cure him. Much of the story plays out against the tumultuous backdrop of the Franco-Prussian War. Yes, the book is a philosophical and political allegory (if that is the right word: Endore doesn't even try to mask his thoughts), but it is also a terrific horror story, one that attacks the reader from a multitude of directions -- physical, medical, psychological, sociological. What the boy does to his girlfriend will not soon be forgotten. It's a convoluted tale, but rarely confusing -- so clear is Endore's writing, which is both perceptive and frequently humorous. A truly remarkable book that, like few others (William Peter Blatty's Legion comes to mind), is both thoughtful and deeply frightening.
++++1/2
Fascinating early werewolf novel that is not, even so, the werewolf equivalent of Dracula. Dracula is myth brought to life; Endore reverses the formula and equates life, in all its ugliness, to myth. Convinced by overwhelming circumstantial evidence that his "nephew" is a werewolf, a Frenchman tries first to lock him up, then, when the boy escapes, to track him down in Paris. The boy, now a young man, falls in love with a girl with an unusual attraction to death, desperately hoping their love will cure him. Much of the story plays out against the tumultuous backdrop of the Franco-Prussian War. Yes, the book is a philosophical and political allegory (if that is the right word: Endore doesn't even try to mask his thoughts), but it is also a terrific horror story, one that attacks the reader from a multitude of directions -- physical, medical, psychological, sociological. What the boy does to his girlfriend will not soon be forgotten. It's a convoluted tale, but rarely confusing -- so clear is Endore's writing, which is both perceptive and frequently humorous. A truly remarkable book that, like few others (William Peter Blatty's Legion comes to mind), is both thoughtful and deeply frightening.
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+ Glorified fan fiction masquerading as a serious sequel to one of the greatest horror novels of all time. Only in this case, to borrow one of the few cliches left out of this book, the fan is demented and his object is to destroy that which he most loves. On its own, The Un-dead is a grotesquerie of roll-your-eyes writing, adolescent thinking, and the sort of vampire worship that would turn these undead denizens of Earth into tortured, godlike souls. Souls? Oh, yes. This "sequel" begins with the premise that Stoker got everything wrong. Rewriting his novel -- its plot, characters, and themes -- is the backdrop for a new alternative history story that features the likes of Elizabeth Bathory and Jack the Ripper, not to mention Stoker himself. Though Dracula lives (never mind how...and how...and how), Bathory is the lesbian badass here, an evil Supergirl with virtually unlimited powers and no kryptonite to keep her in check (because, of course, religion has no effect on her). Her confidence in her ultimate victory is understandable, given that the former vampire hunters now all have problems of their own: Dr. Seward is addicted to morphine, Arthur Holmwood is still pining for his lost Lucy, Jonathan Harker is an alcoholic, and Mina, his wife, can't stop thinking about that time "her dark prince" had his way with her. And Van Helsing is just awfully old. The wild card is Quincey -- not Quincey Morris (Stoker miraculously got that part of the story right), but Quincey Harker, Mina and Jonathan's son. But then he's a rebellious young man who has set his sights on a career in the theater, not in that stuffy old law office where his overbearing dad works. Where but the theater could he hobnob with a man like Basarab, a tall, mysterious European seemingly destined to be the world's greatest actor. "I have met someone," Quincey hilariously tells his mother. "Someone wonderful." (Mina naturally thinks he's speaking of a girl.) With lots of blood and gore, and modern special effects that tell a compelling tale of the source for much of the authors' inspiration for this unimaginative travesty. Not to be confused with Freda Warrington's novel Dracula the Undead, which sounds a whole lot more interesting. Dacre Stoker, by the way, is Bram Stoker's great grand-nephew. ++++1/2 First a book by William March, then a Broadway play by Maxwell Anderson, this film is based on both the play and the book, and it is like nothing you have ever seen before. It's about Christine Penmark (Nancy Kelly), a young mother who comes to the terrifying realization that her 8-year-old daughter, Rhoda (Patty McCormack), is not merely sociopathic, but murderously so. Where the book lacked a certain emotional drama, the film has that and then some -- and then some more. Without the play, this would have been a very different film, but as it is, watching this deliciously dialogue-heavy movie is like walking in on a messy domestic situation and gawking, dumbfounded, at the horror of the human condition. Is it excessive? Yes, at times, but then Rhoda does another of her little manipulative turns or Christine plumbs a little deeper into her moral swamp or the mother of a boy Rhoda has killed, drunk and despondent and defiant, drops by to lay the guilt on just a little thicker or the mean caretaker tries yet again to frighten a girl he really shouldn't be messing around with -- and then it's all back on track again, this relentless tour of all the closets and all the skeletons therein. The story doesn't end quite the way it did in the book, but it's a strangely satisfying ending nonetheless. The ending of the film, on the other hand, is another unusual element, and the viewer is advised not to turn it off during the curtain calls for the actors, for LeRoy offers a final coda of macabre humor. ++++ Modern wife (Katharine Ross) begins to suspect a frightening connection when she moves with her family to the small town of Stepford, where most of the women are strangely contented housewives and their husbands, including her own, all belong to the same club. Forbes and screenwriter William Goldman wisely let the satire take care of itself and focus instead on creating a believable atmosphere of mounting horror that wastes no time explaining mysteries better left to our imagination. Not much action until the end, but that's as it should be. An underappreciated gem. Forgettably remade in 2004 as a comedy. Based on Ira Levin's novel. + Morally bankrupt "sequel" to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre in fact rewrites Tobe Hooper's film then introduces a baby, related to the chainsaw-wielding Leatherface, who, twenty-some-odd years later, grows into buxom Heather Miller (Alexandra Daddario). When her grandmother dies and leaves her her house, Heather and her friends head to Texas where, over the course of 90 minutes, Leatherface is taken from psychotic killer to sympathetic victim. Humorless and greasily pointless. ++ Reboot of 1983's The House on Sorority Row begins promisingly, with several sorority sisters involved in the accidental murder of one of their own. Falls off sharply thereafter as writers Josh Stolberg and Pete Goldfinger sacrifice lucidity (and drama) in order to preserve counter-productive mystery of who is killing the sisters of Theta Pi with a "pimped out" tire iron. Carrie Fisher appears as their shotgun-toting house mother. ++1/2 Very 70s remake of Jack Finney's novel transplants the action (to no real purpose) from a small California town to San Francisco, where much less appealing heroes -- a couple of would-be adulterers (more or less), a UFO nut, a psycho-babbling psychiatrist, and Jeff Goldblum -- battle alien spores that grow to duplicate and replace human beings. Very well thought of film that, according to Rotten Tomatoes' "Critics Consensus," "expands upon themes and ideas only lightly explored in the original" -- a true statement, provided, of course, that by "themes and ideas" they mean "special effects." Adds nothing of substance either to Finney's book or Don Siegel's original film. Good cast (including Donald Sutherland, Brooke Adams, and Leonard Nimoy) goes largely to waste. With, however, one hilarious line, sarcastically directed at Veronica Cartwright's ancient astronauts character. And a cameo appearance by Kevin McCarthy as a paranoid pedestrian. +++++ Distinctly Victorian, pleasurably Gothic, and immeasurably influential novel about a centuries-old vampire who travels from Transylvania to England where he is opposed by six confederates. One of those allied against him is an old but constitutionally open-minded Dutch professor named Van Helsing; the vampire, of course, is Count Dracula. One of the finest and most engrossing horror novels of all time, written with a richness and depth that makes the whole thing not only believable but positively inevitable. Stoker scrimps on nothing (including, be warned, a rather roundabout manner of communication between characters that is replete with the sincerest flattery and concern you will ever read); otherwise, the books drips atmosphere when appropriate, it's spooky, it's horrifying, and it is exciting, as well, with plenty of action and a number of memorable scenes. And, of course, it's a treasure trove of vampire lore, including perhaps most notably for modern audiences the idea that vampires can move about during daylight, only without their un-dead powers. Dracula's Guest Stoker's book begins with Jonathan Harker's written words, "Left Munich at 8:35 p.m." He is on his way to meet with Count Dracula in Transylvania. What it doesn't tell us is what happened to Harker while he was in Munich. This story, "Dracula's Guest," is the tale of those events. First published in 1914, it was originally written as the first chapter of Dracula, from which it was excised as either superfluous or simply in order to shorten the manuscript. In any case, Stoker must have revised it before publication, for the style is different, Harker isn't specifically named, and, though written in the first person, it isn't framed as an entry in his diary (which, had it been included that way, would have been at odds with the epistolary format of the rest of the book). That said, it worked out for the best, and we can be thankful that Stoker never produced an "author's cut" of Dracula. The slow build of the novel toward Harker's meeting with the Count is exactly the right beginning, while, taken alone yet in context, "Dracula's Guest" is a terrific horror story, full of dread and weird happenings -- as well as something else. The Signet Classic edition of the book claims on its cover that Dracula is "the dread lord of the un-dead." With only the novel to go by, this isn't saying a whole lot; the only other vampires we see are the three "sisters" in his castle. Here, in the story, we finally see that there are more of them in the world and that Dracula does indeed hold some sway over them. ++1/2 The Russians launched Sputnik 1 in 1957. Not to be outdone, the Americans launched this movie the following year. "Everyone's seeing satellites these days," says the hapless husband of Nancy Archer, the woman doomed to outgrow everything but her dismal marriage. Yes, but not like the one Nancy sees. As exploitation films go, this is one of the most enjoyable; it's a comic nightmare of infidelity and selfish greed that could have been something truly special had it only been writ with a bit more wit. Still, it's a cut above the usual: its mix of humor and drama is never embarrassing, and it wisely holds the payoff to the very end, wrapping things up in a hurry so as not to overdo it. With William Hudson as the wandering husband, Yvette Vickers as the pretty chippie he taunts his wife with, and Allison Hayes as statuesque Nancy Archer. Remade as an HBO movie in 1993, starring Daryl Hannah in the title role. ++ High school English teacher Jake Epping travels to the past in order to stop the assassination of JFK. While biding his time in a small Texas town (his jaunts always begin on the same date in 1958), he falls in love with a school librarian. If that sounds as though it might be two entirely different books, it isn't without reason. In fact, the first third of this 842 page whopper is largely unnecessary and could have been a book in itself, it's certainly long enough. So, this is really three books: one (the best of the three) is set in Derry, Maine, the setting of the author's It (Jake even meets a couple of characters from that book), and establishes the rules of time travel; the second involves the assassination, in which King clearly has no interest (Jake knows next to nothing about it going in and learns nothing new along the way); and the third book is a "nostalgic" paean to mid-century romance (the quotation marks are deserved, for King's small-town characters exhibit awfully modern, big-city ideas). King claims to have read a stack of books taller than himself about the assassination, but you'd never know it; his real research was the period, and evidence of that fairly drips from every page. Still, with his treacly characters and his skill at emotional manipulation, many will no doubt love this book. |
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