Seduction, The (1982)

... aka: Tele-Terror

Directed by:
David Schmoeller

In her early 20s, Patsy McClenny moved from Texas to New York City, changed her name to Morgan Fairchild and landed a regular role on the soap opera "Search for Tomorrow" 6 months after arriving. A whole host of TV guest spots and made-for-TV movies like THE INITIATION OF SARAH (1978) followed before she caught her big break in the prime time series "Flamingo Road." Though the show was short-lived and lasted only two seasons, it earned the actress Golden Globe recognition and made her a household name. Fairchild is actually quite interesting in the pantheon on blonde Hollywood bombshells. Her husky voice, the air of refinement she exuded, her extensive work for AIDS and environmental charities and the fact she had no problem acting in live theatrical productions (and gaining good notices in the process) was something that certainly set her apart. She was not only beautiful, but also came across as classy; eschewing any "blonde bimbo" connotation one may attribute to her looks. It's no wonder producers wanted to get this glamorous blonde her own sexy big budget starring vehicle stat. Unfortunately, that vehicle (the actress' first big screen leading role) turned out to be a critical failure and wasn't much of a box office hit either, leading to production company Avco Embassy to be sold (it later reformed as just Embassy Pictures) and ultimately doing little positive for Fairchild's career. Afterward, she was driven back to TV (where she's been quite successful; albeit usually typecast in bitch roles) and a succession of mostly low budget B-movies.

The Seduction was likely made in response to Brian De Palma's Hitchcock-inspired shocker DRESSED TO KILL (1980) and the steamy neo-noir Body Heat (1981); two critically-lauded box office successes that combined a mystery / thriller plot with soft R-rated eroticism. Things begin with some very 80s opening credits - tacky hot pink cursive letters and a corny love song ("Heart to heart here were arrrrrrreeeee.... sharing secrets in the darrrrrrrkkkkk...") - sure to activate the gag reflex of many. Thankfully, the feeling of nausea is soon vanquished by the sight of Morgan swimming around naked in her pool. But someone living in a house atop the hill overlooking her home is looking down upon her, watching her, photographing her. The same guy has a wall decorated with her photographs. And the same guy doesn't hesitate to just call her up on the phone to tell her he's watching her, which she shrugs off to her older lover Brandon (Michael Sarrazin) as just another "admirer." Yes, just another admirer. From these opening scenes, Fairchild's character - Jamie Douglas, newscaster for KXLA, Los Angeles - is doing pretty much everything in her power to make the audience detest her. It's not really the actresses fault, though. It's more the script. After listening to Brandon gloat about how beautiful, rich and successful she is, she purrs "I have everything in life I want. I'm completely happy." Uh oh, here comes that queasy feeling again...

Jamie goes to work, where a bouquet of roses from Derek - aka the guy atop the hill - are waiting for her. He then calls. Several times. When she returns home, he calls her there and insists she meet him. She declines. He keeps calling. She goes to her actress friend Robin's (Colleen Camp) for a drink and he calls her there, too. The next day, Derek pops up in Jamie's dressing room armed with a box of chocolates and an apology. He claims he won't be bothering her anymore. Suuuure. I should stop here and note that Derek is played by Andrew Stevens, a handsome guy I'm sure a lot of women wouldn't mind being showered with affection by. Usually these kind of psycho roles are inhabited by grotesque, sweaty goons, so the casting of a hunk (who is notably much-better looking that Jamie's current beau) is somewhat interesting. And the film even hints early on that Jamie is kind of excited about the unwanted attention she's getting from this guy. Now that would have been an interesting angle to work: a woman falling in love with her stalker, or one who gets sexually excited by her stalker and his voyuerism. Instead, we get all of the usual psycho-killer clichés trotted out with minimal surprise, a slow pace, next to no suspense and even less depth.

So Derek keeps on doing his thing. He slashes Brandon's tires. He barges into Jamie's home, scaring her with an impromptu photo session. He follows her to the mall and buys a music box she was looking at in order to try to impress her. While all that's going on, our newscaster heroine is covering "The Sweetheart Murders;" a series of local killings of young women, at work. It's an open-ended subplot that is curiously dropped without further comment after a certain point. Finally fed up, Jamie and Brandon go to Police Captain Maxwell (Vince Edwards) for help, but he promptly informs them that he can't do anything because "the guy hasn't really committed a crime." Oh, really? Though anti-stalking laws wouldn't start going into effect until 1990, you'd figure they could at least get him on harassment, forced entry or breaking and entering. Maxwell instead suggests they purchase themselves a gun; a common 'call to vigilantism' trope seen in many similar 'empowering' 70s and 80s films. Brandon purchases a rifle ("If lover boy shows up again I'm going to blow his pecker off!") but doesn't get a chance to use it after Derek stabs him in the back... while he's getting down with Fairchild in the hot tub, no less. The disastrous, woefully unconvincing and unintentionally funny finale has Fairchild throwing her prissy passivity and gentle nature aside to go Bronson and turn the tables on her attacker.

Aside from Stevens, who gives a surprisingly solid performance as the psycho, the other primary actors (Fairchild included) are left to flounder their way through this mess. It's hard to really criticize any of them, though. Nor can one criticize cinematographer Mac Ahlberg or composer Lalo Schifrin's contributions. The bulk of the blame rests squarely on the shoulders of Schmoeller, whose poor direction and script manage to bring out the absolute worst in his performers; all of whom have made much stronger impressions elsewhere. There are both good and bad moments to Fairchild's overall performance (leading to dual Razzie nominations for "Worst Actress" and "Worst New Star") while Sarrazin has some of the worst dialogue and is poorly and rather unbelievably paired up the attractive star. Edwards' character is an idiot and, as the "quirky" and "funny" best friend, Camp (also a Razzie nominee for this film) comes off as grating in the extreme. There are some tasteful (i.e. brief and partially shrouded) nudes of Fairchild sprinkled throughout to give us something worth watching. There's also one very-well-done erotic sequence where the psycho hides in the closet watching the breathless star taking a bubble bath. The publicity for the film centered on these moments and the promise of Fairchild sans clothing, likely because there's little else here of see.

Irwin Yablans (the original Halloween series) and future director Chuck Russell were two of the producers. Also in the cast are Kevin Brophy (previously seen in the slasher HELL NIGHT) as Fairchid's personal assistant, Wendy Smith Howard as Stevens' assistant (who's in love with him), Joanne Linville as a pop psychologist who tells us what "erotomania" is and Cathryn Hartt (Fairchild's sister) as a girl working a teleprompter. Future Scream Queen Brinke Stevens can also be spotted for a few seconds exiting a sauna. The film was relatively popular on cable TV and video throughout the 80s and there was a more recent Anchor Bay DVD release which included a commentary track from Schmoeller and Yablans. Fairchild and Stevens would team up again for the erotic thriller Body Chemistry 3: Point of Seduction (1993).

★1/2

Sleepaway Camp (1983)

... aka: Nightmare Vacation

Directed by:
Robert Hiltzik

A couple of dumb teens manage to drive their speed boat over a man and one of his kids, so the surviving child - Angela - goes to live with her tacky, doting Aunt Martha (Desiree Gould). Years later, the now-teenage Angela (Felissa Rose) and her hot-tempered cousin Ricky (Jonathan Tiersten) are about to head off Camp Arawak for the summer... and Martha's been gracious enough to supply them both with forged physical papers. That, my friends, is what we like to call none-too-subtle foreshadowing. Upon arriving at camp, Ricky is reunited with his best friend Paul (Christopher Collet) but is given the cold shoulder by Judy (Karen Fields), his steady from the year before, who's transformed into a snotty mega-bitch since he's been away. Angela, who's awkward and so painfully shy she hardly ever speaks, has a bad habit of staring at everyone and refuses to shower when the other girls do, becomes her primary target for torment. But Judy's not the only one who's mean to Angela; nearly everyone at the camp seems dead set on making the poor girl's summer camp experience a living hell. As we all know, it's not wise to poke at a hornet's nest, so those who are cruel soon pay the ultimate price for it when someone in the camp takes it upon themselves to start killing everyone.

A child molester cook who tries to show Angela "something interesting in the walk-in" is the first to go when a pot of boiling water gets poured over his face and body. Next up, a boy who asks Angela why she's "so fucked up" gets drowned (when his body is discovered the next day a snake comes slithering out of his mouth). Meg (Katherine Kamhi), a female counselor who's about as nice as her pal Judy and throws Angela (who doesn't swim because of her traumatic childhood experience) into the lake, gets stabbed to death in the shower. One guy who pelts Angela with water balloons is stung to death by bees while sitting on the crapper, some little kids who threw sand on Angela get chopped up with an axe while camping and there's also a decapitation, death by curling iron and an arrow through the neck. The gore effects, which are usually pretty good, were done by Ed French. Character actor Mike Kellin receives top-billing as camp owner Mel, who wants to avoid bad publicity and goes a little crazy himself as the bodies start piling up.

Obviously made in response to the success of FRIDAY THE 13TH (1980), this summer camp slasher is one of the most popular and enduring of its kind, and it's pretty easy to see why. Entertaining, mean-spirited and frequently hilarious (hard not to laugh at all the loud, over-the-top, grating New Yawkers screaming vulgarities at each other for an hour and a half), this has many creative (though often utterly ridiculous) death scenes and a surprise ending that shocked many people back in the day... and continues to do so granted the viewer hasn't already had it spoiled for them. If you're one of those viewers who's a novice to this series, I wouldn't read any further into this review unless you want to ruin the film's best shock. I also wouldn't be doing any advanced research into the sequels.

As revealed during the big finale, the killer turns out to be Angela. That itself is hardly a surprise considering the film more-or-less narrows the killer's identity down to just two people, but some of the details involving the character actually are surprising. Raised as a girl by her disturbed auntie (who's played by a woman but is so camp she has 'drag queen' written all over her), Angela was actually born Peter and was partially raised by a gay couple. The flashbacks to Angela / Peter's childhood are bizarre to put it mildly. During one scene, Angela and her little brother spy on their two dads lovingly caressing each other in bed. This is immediately followed by a scene that strongly implies that the two little kids start touching each other as a result of what they've seen. And thus there's this warped implication (intended or otherwise) that being raised by same sex parents leads to sexually degenerate behavior. Though certainly wrong-headed, for better or worse, it's content in questionable taste like this that makes the film stand apart from others of its type.

Warning: Don't Let Gays Adopt!!

Cause this...

... will lead to this...

... which will lead to this!

Quite financially successful (especially on video), many sequels would follow. Unlike this original, which takes itself seriously for the most part, all of the follow-ups were tasteless horror-comedies. Rose was in college at NYU while SLEEPAWAY CAMP 2: UNHAPPY CAMPERS (1988) and SLEEPAWAY CAMP 3: TEENAGE WASTELAND (1989) were being filmed in Georgia by director Michael A. Simpson, so Pamela Springsteen was brought in to play the part (and does a great job in doing so). Another actress (Carrie Chambers) played Angela in 1992's Sleepaway Camp IV: The Survivor, but the production was closed down shortly after shooting began. Footage from that shoot was later cobbled together for a worthless DVD release in 2012 featuring mostly recycled footage from the first three films. Rose and director Hiltzik would reunite yet again for the (terrible) Return to Sleepaway Camp, which was filmed in 2004 but not released until about five years later. Another film is planned, but hasn't been made yet.

The initial Media VHS release of the original film is uncut but, strangely enough, the Anchor Bay DVD's have been trimmed of some of the grislier moments plus some male ass when some guys go skinny dipping. The first three films were released as part of a "Sleepaway Camp Survival Kit" box set in 2002, with only the Best Buy version containing a bonus fourth disc containing the previously unreleased footage from Part IV.

★★★

Carnival of Souls (1962)

... aka: Corridors of Evil

Directed by:
Herk Harvey

In my opinion, Carnival of Souls is one of the best low-budget horror films ever made. Actually, scratch that budget part: It's one of the finest horror films ever made. Period. But just what makes it so special? How did this small, independent production manage to amass its devoted cult following? Why is it that this film continues to pick up more and more fans year after year after year? Why does it appeal not only to classic horror film buffs, but also many younger genre fans; even ones weaned on rapidly-edited, action-oriented flicks who don't even typically like older films? It's all pretty simple. Deceptively simple, really. The stunning black-and-white photography, supremely creepy organ score and the empty, desolate locations creating a feeling of complete isolation are part of the reason, for sure, but I really think what's key to its longevity is how it exploits our primal fears of the unknown and uncertainty about death and the afterlife. Just what waits for us in the beyond? What would happen if we somehow managed to escape our fate? What happens to those who hang on the threshold between life and death? There are few things as frightening in concept as being in this world while not actually being a part of this world. That simple, basic concept works brilliantly here, on both a literal and metaphoric level.

Candace Hilligoss, in one of her only known film roles, stars as Mary Henry. While out drag racing with some friends, the car she's in crashes over the side of the bridge. Miraculously, Mary emerges from the water; shaken, confused, wet, but seemingly unharmed. Wanting to leave this scary incident behind her, she decides to flee town to take up a job as a church organist in another city. It's just a job to her; a way to make money, but her soul isn't really in it. Mary gets a room in a boarding house run by the kooky, nosy Mrs. Thomas (Frances Feist) and has to keep rejecting the continual advances of sleazy fellow boarder John Linden (Sidney Berger) from a few rooms down. John turns out to be the least of her problems though, when she realizes someone else has been trailing her. Whoever this pale, sunken-eyed, grinning mystery man is, no one else seems to be able to see him, he doesn't appear to be human... and he even has some similar other-worldly pasty-faced f(r)iends. They all seem to congregate at a abandoned carnival pavilion, and they'd like Mary to join them for one final dance.

Director Harvey (whose only other directorial credits were industrial and educational films) wonderfully exploits the idea of what it truly means to be alienated from this world. It's pretty much established that Mary's beauty is about all she really has going for her. Otherwise, she's rudely blunt, closed-off, somewhat awkward and terrible at social interaction. While it's always risky to center your film around a character who is cold and aloof, and thus not very personable to the audience, in this case it works by giving a grounded, realistic parallel to enhance the supernatural content. In other words, not feeling like you belong here is disheartening and scary enough to begin with. Now compound that with the concept of you actually not being wanted here by a higher, darker, mysterious power that has the final say in the matter regardless of how fast you try to run away from it. The pretty, wide-eyed, sharp-featured Hilligoss turned out to be an ideal casting choice for her ability to simultaneously keep us at arm's length and pull us in. We don't want to like her, and probably wouldn't bother with her in real life (not that she'd bother with us, anyway), but you still can't help but feel compelled by her vulnerability and her grim, hopeless plight all the same.

Aided immeasurably by composer Gene Moore's gloomy organ score and cinematographer Maurice Prather's atmospheric and sometimes expressionistic images, Harvey has managed to create more effectively spooky moments here than in just about any other film I can think of. Excellent use is made of the abandoned Saltair Pavilion (which burned down in the 1970s); a dead former amusement attraction situated in the barren salt flats. There are numerous unforgettable sequences in here; many enhanced with novel use of sound and all done with nary a special effect. Some of the creepy highlights are a ghost-like man peering in through a car window as Mary drives down a desolate stretch of deserted highway, creepy white-faced fiends filling up a bus or slowly emerging up from lake waters, Mary's visit to a department store and public park where the sound fades and she suddenly realizes that no one can see or hear her and the climactic, sped-up dance of the dead.

You will sometimes read complaints from those who have issues with some amateurish acting, the ultimate predictability of the story line or the fact it may have borrowed its central premise from an episode of "The Twilight Zone" called "The Hitch-Hiker." While some of that may be true, this is not a film for to pick apart over technicalities; it's a film to feel and experience for those capable of that. If you're the type of viewer who can escape into a film and be absorbed into its mood and ambiance, some rough-around-the-edges moments aren't going to blunt this film's impact one bit. Try watching it all alone late at night in a dark room and see if it doesn't have some kind of hypnotic effect on you.

It took awhile for Carnival to finally catch on and it didn't make so much as a ripple for decades. In 1989, that all changed when the film was re-released and reevaluated by critics, who saw how this film had actually bled over into many later popular films; influencing a wide range of directors, everyone from David Lynch to Martin Scorsese to George Romero, in the process. Echoes of Carnival can be seen in such hit films as The Sixth Sense, the Final Destination series and many other genre offerings. Perhaps the second most widely-watched public domain horror title of all-time (behind only NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD; yet another film it heavily influenced), Carnival was horribly "remade" in 1998 for executive producer Wes Craven. You'd be best off forgetting that one even exists.

★★★★