Tag Archives: Christopher Lee

‘Fear In The Dark’: Horror’s Impact From Those Who Know Best

The horror genre doesn’t often get the praise it deserves. It’s rare to see a horror film in the running for an Oscar, and those that make the cut win even less often. The source of this underestimation is that horror can be both controversial and undeniably polarizing. Diehard fans swear by their genre of choice and enthusiastically look forward to new releases. Meanwhile, those who don’t understand the appeal of horror movies believe the genre has nothing to offer audiences. However, the 1991 TV documentary Fear In The Dark might make some naysayers into horror believers. 

This unassuming film sparks a meaningful conversation about the history of horror, starting with how literary figures like Edgar Allen Poe still influence films today. It treats viewers to a surprisingly thorough genre history without losing momentum or drowning in small details. Despite its brevity, the film covers many iconic characters throughout the last few centuries, from Bram Stoker’s Dracula to the villains of modern-day slasher films. Along the way, audiences learn small tidbits about the science and emotion behind some of the genre’s most successful films. 

Although beloved The Lord Of The Rings alum Christopher Lee provides excellent narration, the real draw of this film is the string of scary movie powerhouses that weigh in on the genre. Multiple directors—including Dario Argento, John Carpenter, and William Friedkin—present their theories about why horror films are so powerful and memorable. They discuss their own work, of course, but also provide commentary on the horror movie world as a whole. 

However, Fear In The Dark isn’t just a discourse between directors. The film also features Psycho author Robert Bloch and psychologist Dr. Glenn Wilson, who contribute unique perspectives outside the directorial sphere. Even a handful of self-proclaimed horror movie fans appear in short interviews, sharing their thoughts on the viewer experience for several iconic movies. Unfortunately, these fan testimonials don’t receive as much screen time as they deserve, but they still create an easy path for audiences to see themselves represented in the conversation. Many featured fans are in their teens or early twenties, but their feelings about scary movies will be universal for most viewers. 

The relatively loose format of this film gives it an intimate feel that will appeal to true horror lovers. Rather than watching each expert speak separately, the film jumps back and forth between different clips with shared topics. Spliced-together interviews feel like cohesive conversations in several parts. Overall, the format provides viewers with a rare way to compare the opinions of some of the most influential voices in horror. In addition, the documentary covers multiple social and psychological topics that invite viewers to take this often-overlooked genre more seriously. 

One of the documentary’s most intriguing points is that watching horror films is about control. Wes Craven theorizes that horror films don’t captivate us because they make us afraid but because they allow us to vent our daily fears. In his reckoning, the world is a scary place, but horror movies are a vehicle through which we can release our pent-up anxieties in the manner we choose. John Carpenter seconds that assertion, noting that the genre especially appeals to younger audiences facing the daunting task of stepping foot into adulthood for the first time. 

Later in the documentary, the question of how horror movies do (and don’t) influence real life spills over into issues of morality and crime. Multiple directors discuss the so-called “psychopath movies” of the 1970s and the notorious serial killers such as Jack the Ripper and Ed Gein’s influence on the genre. For example, the depth of Hannibal Lecter’s personality in The Silence of the Lambs echoes traits common in some real-life criminals. This proximity to reality is part of Lecter’s undeniable staying power and occurs with many horror film villains, even some that audiences might not expect. John Carpenter describes a phone call he received from a fan who wanted to meet “The Shape” from Halloween and firmly believed that this killer was a real person. 

In discussing the rise of psychopath-centered horror films, the documentary also focuses on the recurring theme of killers claiming the lives of adolescent girls. Although they don’t mention the “final girl” trope by name, a few subjects touch on the idea that only morally righteous characters survive in certain films. For example, Wes Craven frames the somewhat puritanical leans of some horror films as one of the genre’s shortcomings, and The Rats author James Herbert cites the Halloween franchise as an example of cinema that discourages promiscuity through characters’ fates. However, Herbert does note that killing off promiscuous characters in their most vulnerable moments does create more visual interest for audiences, a point that John Carpenter seconds in a subsequent clip. 

As actress Barbara Steele explains, society’s attitude towards female sexuality significantly impacts its prevalence in horror films. She posits that elements of hatred and fear underpin people’s desires, and this mixture of feelings is potent. Dario Argento explains his own fascination with femininity, which he finds pretty mysterious and thus compelling. Indeed, Argento’s “final girls” are some of the most dimensional examples of their trope, especially Suzy Bannon of Suspiria.

Although the documentary highlights a variety of classic movies, Psycho gets a special mention in several sections. The plausibility of the film’s shower scene has sealed its place among the most terrifying scary movie moments in modern history, and Fear In The Dark takes time to praise this classic moment. Robert Bloch notes that “…people were generally unprepared for what they were about to see…” when the film premiered and recalls hearing audiences scream in theaters. 

Naturally, censorship comes to light in discussions of how horror movies may impact viewers. Several directors weigh the value of subtlety in adhering to good taste and building tension. However, Clive Barker presents a fresh perspective on this idea. He discusses his preference for overtly showing the grotesque parts of his films instead of leaving them to the imagination. His explanation for Hellraiser is that audiences can view the monsters in a new light after the initial shock of their appearance. A horror movie fan later notes that Pinhead becomes a sympathetic Christ-like figure for her as the film unfolds. In short, his humanity becomes apparent, and viewers can see a reflection of themselves even in the dark world of the Cenobites. 

Towards the film’s end, the brief discussion about special effects is an instance in which Fear In The Dark dates itself. Although directors used many effective techniques then, 1991 was long before CGI. As a result, the special effects discussion is more of an afterthought and doesn’t receive the same attention as the other topics. However, Clive Barker’s description of his excitement in the presence of special effects professionals provides a deeper appreciation for creating believable practical effects. 

Since Fear In The Dark first aired, special effects have come a long way, but so have horror movie themes and the demands of audiences. Some of the film’s predictions of horror have come true, such as the increased popularity of surrealistic horror. For instance, the 2020 film Friend Of The World and 2022’s Skinamarink are among the countless examples of horror directors pushing the genre into new, experimental directions in the 21st century. 

As horror films evolve, new voices emerge to celebrate, deconstruct, and reinterpret the genre’s long history. Over the last two decades, multiple directors have tried to capture the essence of what makes this genre so powerful. Some have focused on the work of other influential directors, such as 2008’s Dead On: The Life And Cinema Of George A. Romero. Other documentaries have taken up the torch from Fear In The Dark, embarking on a more generalized quest to unearth the secrets behind moviegoers’ enduring fascination with a good scare. 

The horror documentaries of today tackle niche topics within the horror world or pay homage to periods of scary movie history. For example, the 2019 film In Search Of Darkness honors the horror movies of the 1980s, taking viewers on a journey through one of the genre’s most over-the-top decades. However, modern documentary filmmakers are also exploring uncharted territories that were beyond the reach of Fear In The Dark in 1991. The Nightmare is a 2015 documentary that uncovers a genuine phenomenon known as sleep paralysis and combines science and terror. 

Although Fear In The Dark is not a horror film, it’s a time capsule detailing the societal dialogue surrounding this underrated genre at the time. Unfortunately, some of its participants have passed, including Wes Craven. Others are nearing the end of their careers or have already retired, giving audiences a limited opportunity to appreciate new work from these talented creators. Preserving the legacy of their theories and opinions about horror cinema provides Fear In The Dark value for modern-day audiences. In addition, it is a testament to the power of documentaries to tell the story behind the story. 

Episode 33: Jonathan Barkan on ‘Crimson Rivers 2: Angels of the Apocalypse’

When you think of the prototypical Certified Forgotten film, you probably don’t think of a movie like Crimson Rivers 2: Angels of the Apocalypse. The big-budget sequel to an international success, Angels of the Apocalypse featured a stellar cast, a high-profile screenwriter, and Jean Reno, an actor almost as popular in the United States as he is in his native France. So what caused a film with this much going for it to fall through the cracks?

In this week’s episode, the Matts are joined by Jonathan Barkan, a horror critic, producer, and executive who knows a thing or two about the ups and downs of international cinema. Barkan shares his own harrowing entry into the horror genre and describes how his love of music – not movies – is what helped launch his career in the industry. Before long, the conversation turns to Barkan’s undying love for this over-the-top (and smarter than you think) sequel.

02:55 – Jonathan Barkan shares his earliest memories of the horror genre.
11:36 – Barkan explains how his background in music production led to a long career as a horror journalist.
32:21 – Introduction to Crimson Rivers II: Angels of the Apocalypse and why Barkanchose it for this week’s podcast.
40:36 – Discussion on how Angels of the Apocalypse fits into the greater trend of 2000s French genre cinema.
45:12 – Discussion on why Angels of the Apocalypse manages to prove that bigger is sometimes better.
48:41 – Discussion on how Angels of the Apocalypse connects the dots between post-war France and modern-day fascism.
59:22 – What caused Angels of the Apocalypse to be forgotten by audiences (despite its blockbuster pedigree)?

Want to learn more about Barkan’s work in the horror industry? Follow him on Twitter at @JonathanBarkan.

While Crimson Rivers II: Angels of the Apocalypse is not currently available to stream, you can find copies of the film on DVD on eBay and at the home video reseller of your choice. Check out the rest of our podcast episodes on our Podcasts page.

Simon Sprackling’s ‘Funny Man’ Puts Freddy To Shame

Forget Freddy Krueger. The Funny Man is the wisecracking supernatural killer we need. Making a glove out of razor blades and invading people’s dreams is all well and good, but dressing up as a duck hunter to kill Velma from Scooby-Doo? Constructing an entire strip club just to entrap your next victim? Now that’s commitment.

But it’s not just the elaborate, theatrical kills that make Funny Man a magnificent (if mostly-forgotten) gem. Simon Sprackling’s 1994 low-budget horror-comedy is the natural evolution of the slasher film, a genre that, Italian Giallo aside, started to embrace its own ridiculousness.  

It’s easy to forget that the first Nightmare on Elm Street was a straight-laced horror movie; it wasn’t until the sequels that things got a little silly. You’d go in rooting for Freddy, eager to witness the macabre quips he’d fire off as he murdered the teenage “heroes.” There might be the odd jump scare or two, but with Robert Englund under the makeup, you were always in for silly, bloody fun.

Funny Man takes that concept and dials it up to eleven. Filmed on a budget of roughly £50,000, Funny Man was a labor of love for the cast and crew, many of whom worked for free or did a job several levels above their pay grade. It’s a glorious blend of comedy and gore, set in an ancestral mansion that’s home to the titular Funny Man. When Max Taylor wins the mansion in a card game, he moves his family in, little suspecting the nightmare that awaits him. On top of that, his brother drives down with a group of oddball hitchhikers, ensuring the Funny Man won’t be short of victims.

Funny Man doesn’t so much break the fourth wall as it does knock it down with a bulldozer before clambering out to elbow you in the ribs. When Freddy killed a hapless victim, there was always the sense the viewer was in on the joke; here, there’s absolutely no doubt. “I’ve got me arse-kicking boots on tonight!” the Funny Man grins as one victim takes a seat, one of many, many asides to the audience. Deadpool, eat your heart out. 

It’s no coincidence that the Funny Man is a fusion of court jester and Mr. Punch; it wasn’t just some random costume pillaged from a fancy dress shop. Sprackling, who wrote and directed the film, drew inspiration from Shakespearean fools—which often directly address the audience—as well as The Wicker Man’s off-putting jester. He also drew on traditional Punch and Judy shows, once a common sight on British beaches.

Christopher Lee – yes, that Christopher Lee – helps kick off the graphic events of the film

The movie employs its influences to great effect. It’s sheer pantomime, more so than even Nightmare on Elm Street. There’s even a kill that takes place inside a Punch and Judy tent as the Funny Man cheers enthusiastically from a deckchair. It abandons any pretense of having a proper story; the Funny Man is here to entertain you, and that is all that matters.

Like Nightmare on Elm Street, Funny Man wouldn’t be half as much fun without a strong lead performance, and Tim James steals the show. In his hands, despite the character’s murderous plans, the Funny Man becomes oddly charming. At one time, Sprackling intended Funny Man to be more of a conventional horror icon, but it was James’s performance that molded the film into its final, comedic form. One minute he’s electrocuting an inattentive teenager who’s engrossed in her Game Boy—proving once-and-for-all that video games do cause violence—and in the next, he’s dispensing well-meaning wisdom.

As Sprackling explains it, he’s the friend you’re not really sure you want. James’s performance and sense of timing elevate the already absurd set pieces into pure art. The strip club scene has the Funny Man dressed like a bouncer, stripper, and disgruntled husband of the same stripper, all so he can cram a high heel into a man’s eye. At times, Funny Man is two steps away from turning into a sketch show.

Tim James isn’t the only standout turn in Funny Man, however. His amiability is balanced out by the more sinister presence of Callum Chance, played by Christopher Lee. No, really. Dracula, Saruman, Count Dooku, Willy Wonka’s dad. That Christopher Lee. It might be surprising to see Lee in a film made on a shoestring budget; the crew frequently had to re-jig scenes because the resources they originally wanted simply weren’t available. However, thanks to a lull in Lee’s career, Sprackling was able to get him for a surprisingly low price. 

It’s obvious that Christopher Lee’s scenes were shot all at once, but it’s a neat way to bookend some of the scenes and—coupled with the poetic nature of some of the characters’ fates—makes Funny Man feel a little like a lost Amicus anthology. However, in an interview featured on the film’s UK Blu-Ray release, Sprackling claims that Lee found one of the death scenes particularly offensive. When he wouldn’t remove it, the actor refused to endorse the movie. This apparently led to the bizarre situation where Lee was flown to Cannes, having agreed to publicize Funny Man but, if asked, wouldn’t speak positively of the film. 

As entertaining as Funny Man is, there are darker implications to all the fourth-wall-breaking. You could at least pretend that Freddy Krueger was slaughtering people for the sheer fun of it and that you, as an audience member, were a horrified (if unapologetically amused) bystander. By comparison, Funny Man’s asides make you a more active participant in the carnage. 

Sure, the Funny Man is having the time of his life, but he knows that you’re watching and getting as much of a kick out of the gore as he is. When Velma’s grey matter flies across the screen, glasses still attached, he turns to you and gives you a respectful nod. Alright, mate? Was that what you were looking for? You see that? You made that happen.

Funny Man is everything you could want from a ’90s slasher but streamlined. The Nightmare on Elm Street movies insisted on nonsense like character development and plot. But who needs a love interest when you’re going to be introduced to the business end of a blunderbuss? Funny Man knows why people watch stalk-and-slash movies, and it delivers in droves.

It’s a real shame, then, that Funny Man never got a sequel or achieved the level of horror notoriety it so-clearly deserves. The film is far from perfect; there are times, for example, that it feels just a little too disjointed. But it could easily have spawned a whole horror comedy franchise, putting Freddy Krueger’s tongue-in-cheek rampages to shame. He’d probably even coax a chuckle out of Jason Voorhees.  

Instead, it sank into the swamp of bland, generic slashers spawned throughout the 90s. With so many horror distributors in the market, your best bet might be to cross your fingers for a Blu-ray restoration so you can experience the blood-drenched lunacy yourself. After all, you’d be a fool not to. 

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