Space Vampires !!!

Queen of Blood (1966): written and directed by Curtis Harrington; starring John Saxon (Brenner), Basil Rathbone (Dr. Farraday), Judi Meredith (Laura), Dennis Hopper (Grant), and Florence Marly (Alien Queen): 

Queen of Blood writer-director Curtis Harrington got a title homage from Jim Jarmusch this year as Jarmusch's zombie film The Dead Don't Die took its title from a 1975 TV movie directed by Harrington and scripted by genre great Robert "Psycho" Bloch.

Here, Harrington assembled a new film using a lot of spaceship footage from two Soviet sci-fi films. The story is all his, though it resembles more than one antecedent -- perhaps most notably C.L. Moore's 1930's science-fiction horror story "Shambleau."

Basil Rathbone supplies what is basically an extended cameo as Basil Exposition. The redoubtable John Saxon is the lead astronaut. Dennis Hopper, counting down to Easy Rider, plays the least convincing astronaut in cinematic history. And Florence Marly plays the silent Alien Queen, our eponymous Queen of Blood.

The movie chugs along pretty enjoyably. It ends somewhat abruptly, suggesting a sequel that never materialized so far as I know. The Alien Queen is suitably sinister, but it's her eggs that are especially disturbing. Certainly not a great movie, but an entertaining one. Recommended.

Lifeforce (1985): adapted from the Colin Wilson novel The Space Vampires by Dan O'Bannon, Don Jakoby, Michael Armstrong, and Olaf Pooley; directed by Tobe Hooper; starring Steve Railsback (Col. Carlsen), Peter Firth (Col. Caine), Frank Finlay (Dr. Fallada), Mathilda May (Space Vampire), and Patrick Stewart (Dr. Armstrong):

As crazy as this movie is, it's far superior to its over-rated source material, Colin Wilson's ponderous, pseudo-intellectual 1970's novel The Space Vampires. Why the producers didn't keep the title of the novel is beyond me -- it's way better than the generic (though descriptive) Lifeforce.

Tobe Hooper directs ably and the actors are all solid if occasionally wonky in this tale of a NASA expedition to Halley's Comet that encounters a giant spaceship in the cometary core filled with dead, giant, bat-like aliens and three mysterious, perfectly preserved human bodies. Needless to say, the expedition soon loses contact with Earth. The silent ship returns to Earth orbit. Aboard it is a dead crew... and those three mysterious human bodies from the spaceship.

Steve Railsback, best known for playing Charles Manson in the 1970's TV adaptation of Helter Skelter, here plays cinema's second-least convincing astronaut ever. Though his constant freak-outs do make sense given that he's the sole surviving astronaut from that cometary mission -- and that one of the suddenly resurrected bodies found on that ship now has the hots for him. And a psychic connection.

Lifeforce was one of the great box-office bombs of the 1980's. It's a shame because the set design and prosthetic monster effects are terrific, and the narrative is generally quite gripping. Peter Firth does solid work as the world's most unflappable SAS officer. Captain Picard shows up as a psychiatrist. Unknown Mathilda May acquits herself admirably as the alien 'woman' with the connection to Railsback, especially as she's stuck playing roughly 75% of her scenes buck naked. Recommended.

'Salem's Lot: The Miniseries (1979)

'Salem's Lot: adapted from the Stephen King novel by Paul Monash; directed by Tobe Hooper; starring David Soul (Ben Mears), James Mason (Straker), Lance Kerwin (Mark Petrie), Bonnie Bedelia (Susan Norton), Ed Flanders (Dr. Norton), Lew Ayres (Jason Burke), and Reggie Nalder (Barlow):

The first miniseries adaptation of a novel by Stephen King, and still among the two or three best. There are necessary condensations and eliminations from King's giant cast of small-town Maine residents whose town is about to get vampirized. The reduced role of Father Callahan is probably the most keenly felt -- he's got two scenes and then he's gone. Oh, well.

David Soul is solid as writer Ben Mears, returning to the home of his childhood and discovering it both unaltered and about to be severely altered. Bonnie Bedelia and Lance Kerwin do nice work as well. James Mason dominates the miniseries. Not as the vampire Barlow, though, but as his majordomo Straker.

This is really the major change from the novel: Barlow the vampire doesn't speak at all, though he does hiss a lot. Straker speaks a lot, to the extent that one starts to wonder why the screenwriters didn't just have James Mason play the vampire. Barlow's make-up and prosthetics make him an homage to the vampire in F.W. Murnau's seminal vampire movie Nosferatu (1922) much different a creature than the smooth-talking Dracula figure of King's novel.

Tobe Hooper (Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Poltergeist) directs ably. The horror effects of vampires floating outside the windows of their prey is surprisingly spooky. Hooper also has a solid touch with the actors. His experience with Texas Chainsaw Massacre in terms of implying but not actually showing horrible images comes in handy on a project that must pass the network censors. All this and Fred Willard in his underwear being threatened with a shotgun! Recommended.

The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974)

The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974): written by Kim Henkel and Tobe Hooper; directed by Tobe Hooper; starring Marilyn Burns (Sally Hardesty), Allen Danziger (Jerry), Paul A. Partain (Franklin Hardesty), William Vail (Kirk), Teri McMinn (Pam), Edwin Neal (Hitchhiker), Jim Siedow (Old Man), Gunnar Hansen (Leatherface) and John Dugan (Grandfather) (1974): 

One of the remarkable things about The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is how little graphic violence actually appears on screen. The makers pretty much manage what Alfred Hitchcock did in the shower scene in Psycho in terms of tricking the audience into believing it's seen terrible things that never actually appear on screen, but they do so for 90 minutes, not 17 seconds.

It's a terrific movie, filled with dread and grotesque comedy, terrible images, and sudden action. Reviewers who compared it to a nightmare were quite right, I think -- the suddenness of occurrences in nightmares, and certain things all people dream fearfully of, especially flight from something dreadful and perhaps inescapable. And then they woke up. Maybe.

Made for very little money, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre nonetheless doesn't seem low-budget. The acting is solid throughout; the grainy 16 mm film stock perfect for the grunginess of the environment the five unlucky travelers find themselves in. Hooper and company also conjure up a nightmarish soundscape meant to suggest what cattle would hear in a slaughterhouse. That works too.

The Texas Chain Saw Massacre made an astonishing multiple of its production budget in several theatrical releases in the 1970's and early 1980's. It kick-started what I tend to think of as The Bad Road-trip sub-genre in horror movies, one which thrives to this day. It also pretends to be a re-creation of a "true story" (it isn't), and it gives us one of the first iconic monsters in post-classical horror movies, the human-mask-wearing Leatherface. Who keeps a pet chicken in a bird cage. Seriously. And it's a weirdly disturbing moment, the revelation of that chicken.

Another reason I think the film disturbed so many is its attention to suggestively occult set design. There's nothing supernatural about the monsters in The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, but their interior decorating (well, and exterior decorating in a nearby cemetery) gestures towards a baroque world of fetishized death and decay.

Nearly 40 years after its release, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre remains an influential classic in any film genre. It's a work of transformative brilliance that ends with what feels like one long scream climaxing in a chase sequence that's like a horrifying Keystone Kops routine. John Laroquette supplies the opening voice-over narration, for which he was paid one marijuana joint. Groovy. Highly recommended.