Film Reviews: The Short Horror Films of David F. Sandberg - Lights Out / Not Alone in Here / Shadowed

 "Short Horror Films By David F. Sandberg"

Star Ratings Irrelevant

Are you afraid of the dark? It's a question filmmaker David F. Sandberg is very interested in.

I first became aware of Sandberg when I reviewed his feature-length film debut, the horror film "Lights Out" (2016). At the time I declared it the horror movie of the year and placed it on my year-end top ten list. Sandberg, I believed, was going to turn into a major talent. And so he has. A year later I was impressed once again with his "Annabelle: Creation" (2017), placing it in on year-end list. It was a step up for Sandberg to direct a film that was part of the "Conjuring Universe". His success continued; directing films that were part of the DC Universe; "Shazam!" (2019) and its sequel "Shazam! Fury of the Gods" (2023).

Sandberg however has directed several short films. In fact, he continues to direct short films in between his major theatrical releases. To me this implies a strong fondness for this particular format of filmmaking; and why I wanted to explore it during this year's blog theme, Life is Short - my year long look at short films. I would imagine short films provide Sandberg and his wife, Lotta Losten - who stars in these films - the opportunity to explore ideas and filming techniques. These short films aren't meant to be miniature three act structures. They are simple premises, based on singular ideas, that in some cases run approximately three minutes long. The films are simply meant to explore our fear of the dark. 

"Lights Out" was based on a 2013 short film of the same title starring Losten. In the film she is about to go to bed and shuts off her hallway light. Whenever she does this though a shadowy figure appears at the end of the hall. No matter how many times she flicks the light on and off the figure remains in the dark. The woman finally decides it is best to keep the light on and with some trepidation goes in her bedroom. From her bed the situation intensifies. She can see the light in the hallway shut off and her bedroom door appears open. Each time an incident happens the woman hides under her blanket only to discover something new has transpired when she peaks up. It escalates to a frightening conclusion. This is all accomplished in just under three minutes.

Unlike other short films I have watched recently, this isn't academic filmmaking focused on the heavy use of symbolism and metaphor. What it is however is excellent filmmaking nonetheless. Sandberg knows how to frame a scene and build suspense by playing on an audience's expectation. That is what I responded to so strongly in his feature-length version of "Lights Out" but Sandberg displays that talent here in this short as well.

What Sandberg and Losten, who is listed as a co-directed on the film, do so effectively in "Lights Out" is put the audience in her perspective. We don't know more than she does. We experience everything as she does. Some horror movies for example will show a killer in the corner of a frame but the main characters don't see the person. Other horror movies put us in the POV of the killer, stalking their victim, who never seems cognizant of their surroundings. In "Lights Out" information is delayed until the character discovers it. So each time she hides under that blanket, and we are shown her hiding, we never know what to expect when she looks up. We hearing someone's footsteps. We hear the light switch go off. And that is enough to scare us. 

Contrast that with what Sandberg does in "Not Alone in Here" (2020). Sandberg and Losten change the dynamic a bit but bring to the fore an idea that was in the background of "Lights Out". It's not just the idea of being in the dark that is scary, it's the idea of being alone. "Lights Out" exposes our fear of the dark but what was really scary for the woman in the film is the fact she was all by herself. That's adds to our fear. Not having anyone to share the experience with. Not having someone around who could possibly protect us.

That is what "Not Alone in Here" examines. This time the film takes place largely in light. A woman (Losten) is almost positive she looked her kitchen door but when she sees the door wide open, her mind begins to play tricks on her. For this film narration is used as an inner dialogue. It is meant to further place us in her mind. The woman tries to calmly diagnose the situation. Even if the door was locked what should she do next? Call the police? And tell them what? Leave and check into a hotel? Then she'll never know if the person left or not when she returns? 

Instead the women searches her home with a large knife. She goes room by room until she is somewhat comfortable and stays in her bedroom. This is the first time the women is in the dark. She is still afraid which proves light or dark is immaterial, the real fear comes from our mind and being alone.

"Shadowed" finds Sandberg and Losten looking for new ways to explore these themes. This short is a bit closer to "Lights Out" but what I found improved upon was Sandberg's scene composition. The film begins with a woman (Losten again) sitting in her bed when the power suddenly goes out. What caught my eye is the window is directly in the foreground. Horror movie fans probably have their eyes trained to expect something to walk pass the window or stare through the window. That by itself builds tension. When the power goes out, the woman grabs a flashlight in her bedroom drawer. Each time she thinks she hears a noise, she points the flashlight and her body in the direction of the noise. This caused me to expect something to be behind her when she turns around. Which may or may not happen. Sandberg is playing the audience like a piano. He knows the tropes and knows the audience does too.

This film also differs from Sandberg's other shorts by adding surrealism, this is something we saw in his earlier short, "Closet Space" (2016), which adds a new layer to his work. In "Shadowed" wherever she points the flashpoint she sees a shadow of something not in the room. At first it is innocent, the shadow is of a vase on her dresser, but then it turns scarier, the shadows are of people.

Of the three shorts this is probably Sandberg being his most symbolic. Flashlights, my old film school professors taught us, represent both hope and danger. The flashlight can be used for survival but of course, it only illuminates a small area, leaving room for potential danger. That is exactly the theme Sandberg is playing with here and in "Lights Out" - the dichotomy between light and dark, fear and safety. 

If there are faults with Sandberg's films, the main one is the treatment of its female characters. The shorts seems to go out of their way to suggest unspeakable danger, and possible torment, awaits the character and terrify her. This is partly a trope of the genre, the cruel treatment of women. So to criticize these shorts, means to criticize the entire genre. What distinguishes these short films from other horror movies is at least the set-ups created by Sandberg and Losten are scary. But we know from directors like Jennifer Kent and Erin Lovett that you can create female led horror films, work within the tropes, and still add emotional depth and treat the characters with respect.

The other downside to these shorts is their running time. You aren't going to accomplish much of a narrative arc in three minutes. These aren't shorts you watch for their intricate storylines. It would be difficult to see how these storylines could be expanded into feature-length films. But  I wouldn't have been able to see how Sandberg would transform his "Lights Out" short into a feature film. I think Sandberg merely views these shorts as fun experiments, where he can test out ideas.

That becomes a takeaway for short films in general. They help directors explore ideas and learn how to execute them. You can see this in Sandberg's work. You also see the joy of filmmaking despite the scary content of the films. Sandberg and Losten appear to be having a good time, which becomes infectious.

I'm happy to say Sandberg's talents appear to have been recognized by other critics as well. When the theatrical version of "Lights Out" was released, former Chicago Sun-Times critic Richard Roeper wrote the movie gave him the chills and went on to praise the film stating it "isn't merely one of the scariest movies of the year - it's one of the best movies of the year, genre be damned." Over at the Chicago Tribune they called Sandberg's second feature, "Annabelle: Creation", "uncommonly, nerve-wrackingly satisfying."

Sandberg's last short film was in 2023 but he continues to direct feature-length projects, such as this year's "Until Dawn" (2025), which is available on various streaming platforms. The film is based on a video game, which is a trend I am not particularly fond of; though I am happy to say it was shot in Budapest. Movie fans may also be happy to know Sandberg has another film in pre-production called "Below".

This trio of short films by Sandberg showcase a highly capable filmmaker exploring and developing his craft. His continuous examination of our fears of the dark and isolation is quietly turning him into one of the most accomplished directors in the horror genre in the past decade. If you are looking for a good scare this Halloween watch these short films, alone and in the dark.

Film Reviews: There's Nothing There & The Knowing

"There's Nothing There"

 ** 1/2 (out of ****)

Short films can be a wonderful tool for filmmakers to develop ideas, learn their craft, and be launching pads for feature-length films - in most cases the director's ultimate goal.  This year's blog theme, Life is Short - my year long look at short films has given me the opportunity to watch several short films and with it being October, I've turned my eyes toward horror films.

If there is one thing I dislike about short films it is that they are largely academic, textbook examples of filmmaking. Given the limited running time, they rely heavily upon symbolism and metaphor to tell their stories. Feature-length filmmaking does this as well but in short films it is more compact and serves as a shorthand to introduce themes. If you aren't steep in your knowledge of symbolism, the average viewer will miss it.

I've selected two shorts; "There's Nothing There" (2023) and "The Knowing" (2023) that focus on similar themes of trauma and remorse and use many of the same symbols. That's what I meant by textbook examples. When I was studying film at Columbia College in Chicago, and made my own short films, I learned the same symbolism these filmmakers used and how to quickly get information across the screen. My eyes are able to zero in on it with lightening speed.

But I also chose these two short films for another reason. One was directed by a man - Alessandro Russotti and the other a woman - Erin Lovett. I thought it would be interesting to see how men and women examine similar themes. Both short films also center their stories on female characters, strengthening the comparison.

"There's Nothing There" - which can be seen on YouTube - literally begins with a woman (Maxine Denis) walking into her condo apartment, staring at herself in a mirror. Without knowing anything about the plot, I immediately knew this story was going to be psychological, revolving around inner emotional conflict. In film, a mirror is a symbol for duality, because it cast a reflection. That is what I meant by short hand to introduce themes. The film runs just under 15 minutes and within under a minute the director tips his hat to what kind of story this will be, if your eye catches the symbolism. Short films demand this type of economical storytelling. Practically every frame has a symbolic or metaphorical purpose.

As the woman (the credits call her Kate) stares at the mirror and her phone, a caption appears on screen stating an incoming call from Richard (voiced by Alex Gravenstein). Richard is either a husband or boyfriend who she lives with. He is out of town for work. Their first line of dialogue is about Kate's confusion regarding how Richard can call her because of his phone's poor reception. This is going to become another symbol for a poor line of communication between the couple. The dialogue feels a little awkward and we can sense Kate's uneasiness answering questions. Richard for example somehow knew Kate was out the previous night. She says she was with a friend, Danielle (Jessica Barbusci) celebrating her twenty-eight birthday but later in the conversation says the friend turned thirty. Clearly Kate is not telling the truth. During the conversation we see a pair of drinking glasses and Kate pours herself a glass of juice. In film school we are taught that glass can both symbolize truth and transparency as well as the fragility of life and relationships.

When the phone call with Richard ends, we are shown a flashback of the party Kate was at. After doing some shots she begins to dance by herself when a man approaches her from behind. His hands fondle her body as he kisses her neck. Kate doesn't make any attempt to move away and the two keep dancing. A messy bedsheet implies more than dancing went on between the two.

While Kate was on the phone with Richard she thought she saw a man standing outside, looking up at her apartment. Suddenly the door handle turns but the door is locked. The handle begins to move in a frantic, violent manner, scaring Kate. But when it suddenly stops we are meant to ask ourselves, did that really happen or did Kate imagine it?

That becomes the hook to Russotti's film. How much of what we are seeing is taking place inside Kate's mind? Did the door handle really move? Was the phone conversation real? Is everything a figment of Kate's imagination, representing something deeper?

The situation escalates when the man Kate was dancing with appears in the apartment, though we never see anyone enter through the door. His appearance causes the glass with Kate's juice to shatter and broken glass becomes another symbol. At this point in the story most viewers should grasp what is going on. Kate cheated on Richard at the party and now either that man is back or Kate's guilt and remorse over the incident is catching up with her; causing Kate to deal with her inner emotional conflict.

This doesn't seem to be an entirely new concept for Russotti. He appears to like to center his films around issues of morality, as seen in another work of his, "Street Walker" (2023). That film wasn't as academic and mechanical as "There's Nothing There" but I get the sense Russotti focuses on female characters because they are a trope in the suspense / horror genre - a la the damsel in distress - and not because of an interest in telling stories from a female perspective.

Nevertheless the actresses that do appear in his short films are quite talented. Maxine Denis has a great deal of talent and I am eager to see her in more mainstream productions. I've known, worked with, and reviewed amateur actresses, Denis is a step above. Her craft will grow as she appears in more of these short films. She already understands how to use her body to project emotion, create a presence on screen and engage an audience.

"There's Nothing There" faces a familiar challenge for short films; which are made on limited budgets. It confines a lot of its action to a single location. That isn't necessarily a bad thing. In the right movie that can represent claustrophobia. The problem with this particular location is it is quite small and has an open floor plan with a bedroom. It is difficult to create and build suspense and horror in such a location. A larger home with more rooms - i.e. more hiding spaces and treacherous corners - would have created more opportunities for suspense.

Technically I can't fault the filmmaking and did like one sequence Russotti created when stops time and Kate is revisiting the party as an onlooker. Everyone but Kate and her friend are active and everyone else is frozen. It is a device we have seen in various Christmas Carol adaptations and even more recently in Francis Ford Coppola's "Megalopolis" (2024). It is a visually dynamic way to force the audience to pay attention to a specific detail.

"There's Nothing There" is a technically well-made short film but a bit too mechanical. There is no true emotion to what is going on. It has a formulaic, by the numbers sensibility to it. We aren't completely drawn to the lead character because we haven't been made to care about her enough. You can however see how "There's Nothing There" would be a sequence in a larger movie.

"The Knowing"

 *** (out of ****)

If "There's Nothing There" would be a sequence in a larger movie, Erin Lovett's "The Knowing" (2023) - also available on YouTube - is a beautiful three act structure within itself. Running roughly one minute longer than Russotti's film, "The Knowing" is a fully structured storyline. Nearly all of the elements are there to turn this into a feature-length film.

"The Knowing" is a deeply emotional, psychological and personal story of woman dealing with the trauma of a miscarriage. No one in the film says the word but Lovett finds a perfect metaphor when the lead character cuts her finger and her blood splats on the floor. All is immediately understood and draws a comparison to "There's Nothing There". Both movies have a woman cut her finger, symbolizing internal pain but Lovett and "The Knowing" convey more than symbolism; they add a layer of emotional depth to the image.

The film utilizes a flashback format - which I found slightly confusing at times - to tell the story of Lea (Anna Wood), a freelance reporter and a glass artist dealing with the lost of a child as she takes a break from the world and her husband (Rafi Silver) by visiting a cabin in the woods. 

Once again words aren't spoken but their implications are there. An artist creates. Creation is life. Life is contrasted with death. At the cabin Lea begins to have brief sightings of a dark mysterious figure. Is it her imagination? The Grim Reaper? A representation of her grief and trauma? The vision first occurs when she is working with red stained glass - signifying the same thing it did in "There Nothing There" - and looks through it. The figure is gone when Lea stares out with her naked eye but she instantly hears distant whispers.

During Lea's time in the cabin she is triggered into flashbacks highlighting her relationship with her husband. It ranges from his desire to become a father to the moment when she reveals she is pregnant. One powerful scene has the couple discuss the implications of Lea having a baby. The dialogue stresses the financial difficulty of raising a child as well as the sacrifices that a woman must make. Lea tells a story about her mother having to give up on her education in order to raise children.

This seems to be the thrust of what "The Knowing" is thematically hinting at. It is about the horror and trauma within that women experience. It isn't fully explored as well as it could be in a feature-length format but an addition story of a woman who had a "back alley" abortion suggests this is a story about women and motherhood, societal expectations of mothers, and the devastating consequences that can occur.     

As with "There's Nothing There", the lead actress carries the film. Anna Wood is remarkably good in the role. She has acted in some mainstream television productions, appearing in episodes of shows such as "The Good Wife", "Madam Secretary" and "Law & Order". It is quite apparent she is no amateur. Her acting craft shines through as she expresses a wide range of emotions from guilt to fear. We not only accept her as a believable character, we actively follow her on her journey.

It seems to be in line with the work of the director, Erin Lovett. This is her narrative film debut but she has directed episodes of two CNN docu-series, "Our America with Lisa  Lang" and "This is Life with Lisa Lang". That background implies a desire to tell real world stories from an emotional perspective. That is what gives "The Knowing" its strength. For a short film it is grounded in the techniques of filmmaking but has emotional weight. Lovett did direct a Lifetime television movie called "A Deadly Threat to My Family" (2024), which sadly I have not seen. I do however look forward to seeing more of her work.

By the time "The Knowing" ends, I was reminded of Jennifer Kent's fantastic horror film "The Babadook" (2014). Both films suggest people must learn to find ways to live with their grief and not let it control them. Kent found a terrific symbol for "feeding the beast" that I slightly prefer to Lovett's final image but it is just as powerful in a quieter way. It would be great to see Lovett's get the opportunity to expand this story in a feature-length film as Kent did with her short film, "Monster" (2005).

The value of watching short films is to be able to discover new talents like Erin Lovett and Alessandro Russotti. Both have potential but Lovett comes off as the more complete filmmaker - technically aware, mature, emotional and honest. "The Knowing" has moments of suspense and compassion. It shows how much narratively you can get out of a fifteen minute movie.

Film Review: Fright Night - 40th Anniversary

 "Fright Night"

  *** (out of ****)

"You have to have faith for this to work on me!" declares the vampire when confronted with a crucifix. It is a line that's spoken near the end of the film but it is at the core of "Fright Night" (1985), which is celebrating it's 40th anniversary. 

I don't believe this dialogue or scene is actually about spirituality or religion. It is about having faith in yourself. The man holding the crucifix is an old out of work actor, Peter Vincent (Roddy McDowall). He was best known for appearing in horror movies as a vampire killer; but he is a fraud who not only doesn't believe in vampires, he doesn't believe in himself anymore.

Peter was approached by a teenager, Charley (William Ragsdale) who is convinced his next door neighbor, Jerry Dandridge (Chris Sarandon) is a vampire; responsible for a series of recent deaths. Charley has made it known he is aware of Jerry's true identity and is now desperate for help when no one will believe him, including his girlfriend Amy (Amanda Bearse) and friend, nicknamed "Evil" Ed (Stephen Geoffreys). Charley must now place his own faith in his favorite actor to kill the vampire. "Fright Night" is not so much about vampires as it is these two central ideas - having faith in yourself and the relationship between life and art.

Writer / director Tom Holland immediately sets up these themes in the movie's opening sequence, which takes place at night, with the shot of a full moon and a wolf's howl. We hear a couple; a startled man and a flirtatious, sensual woman. She suggest they remain outside and sit on a veranda. The camera pans from left to right along a suburban neighborhood but we can't see the couple. The dialogue becomes sexually suggestive as the man begins to compliment the woman's pale, luminescent skin and red lips. The camera lands on a home and begins to zoom towards a bedroom window. We hear kissing and suddenly see a television, making it apparent this was the source of the dialogue; subconsciously blurring a line between life and art. The woman on the television is a vampire and the man is about to be defeated by her seduction and become her next victim. It is quickly revealed there are two people inside of the bedroom, Charley and Amy. The screams and moans of the vampire being killed by a stake in the heart fuses together with the sound of Charley and Amy's aggressive moans, drawing a link between sex and violence. Initially the television image doesn't match the real world as it is Charley that is the aggressor but soon life imitates art when Amy, much like the female vampire, becomes the sexually dominate one, after Charley complains he is tired of waiting to take their relationship to the next level, after a year of dating.

The movie takes this interesting gender dynamic of  Amy as the pursuer and Charley reluctantly pursued - much like the startled man first heard and the vampire woman the consoler - and transitions it into a Hitchcockian scenario a la "Rear Window" (1954) with Charley spying on his next door neighbors when he sees a coffin being taken into a basement. Much like Hitchcock's film the spying becomes a substitute for intimacy.

While male performance anxiety may have been the motivation for Charley's sudden avoidance of sex with Amy, it is fittingly as it serves one of the genre's most famous tropes; virginity as sacred. The concept of the dangers of pre-marital sex is often applied to female characters but notice how Holland flips the cliché; it is the male character's virginal status that saves the day. That's a subversive move on the film's part that went unnoticed in some mainstream reviews at the time.

This does lend itself to how the film treats these two characters differently. Charley's "purity" is contrasted with Peter. Notice when Charley aims a crucifix in front of the vampire, it immediately shrieks away. When Peter does it, the vampire mocks him. Charley's innocence becomes a weapon he can use against evil.

Compare that to how  Amy is treated. Her "purity" isn't a weapon used against evil. Instead it becomes her weakness, as she is seduced by Jerry. And notice the blatant sexuality evoked in how Jerry seduces Amy. The movie wants us to ignore / forget the fact Jerry is a grown man and Amy is only a 17 year old girl. The act of a vampire piercing the neck of their victim does have a sexual connotation to it, especially if the vampire is a man and the victim is a woman. You could make the argument Bram  Stoker's Dracula was about sexual repression during the Victorian era. Keep that in mind as you watch the scene when Jerry bites Amy's neck. Here is how such a scene is shot nine out of ten times. We start with a  medium shot of the victim's back. The vampire opens his mouth, so we can see his fangs. He goes into for the bite while the camera then switches positions. Now we see the back of the vampire in a medium shot, so we can see the victim's face, reacting to the bite. Again, this is standard but pay attention to how "Fright Night" does it. Amy's naked back is exposed to us in a long shot. Jerry seductively leans in to bite her neck. The camera position doesn't change. Jerry continues to bite Amy when suddenly blood drips down Amy's neck and back. How does an audience not interpret that as Amy being deflowered? Sure, you can brush off a deeper symbolism of the dripping blood and try to convince yourself it is just an example of excessive gore but the fact that  Amy is a virgin, makes the blood sexual and symbolic 

As interesting as these characters are however it is McDowall's Peter Vincent that brings the movie to life. In Roger Ebert's Chicago Sun-Times review he referred to McDowall as  "The center of the movie" and so he is. By having Peter Vincent - an obvious homage to Peter Cushing and Vincent Price - as the embodiment of the film's self belief theme, he becomes the moral center, along with Charley. Peter also becomes the perfect representation of art imitating life.

The realization of life imitating art becomes crystal clear to Peter in one of the most emotionally complex scenes in the entire movie; Peter witness the death of a vampire that has transformed into a werewolf. The scene is initially played for horror; in slow motion we see the werewolf charging towards Peter, who is preparing to meet his demise. When the werewolf leaps toward Peter, he accidentally impales the wolf with a banister railing. If vampire hunting wasn't real to Peter before, it  most certainly is now. The werewolf begins to return to human form and reaches out to Peter for help. The scene becomes both frightening and sympathetic at once. Holland doesn't break away, adding to the tension as Peter has a moment when we wants to grab the hand of the vampire. We sympathize with his decision to do so until Peter stops himself and realizes what the implication would be. He must watch the vampire die in front of him; as the painful howls of the wolf  fill the room; tearful Peter looks on.

This becomes more than what Peter was anticipating. His motivation for helping Charley had nothing to do with a belief in vampires and a desire to help. It was a purely financial decision brought on by an eviction notice. For Peter, this was all just a quick, harmless way to make a dollar.

And this becomes why the "You have to have faith" line becomes so crucial to the movie. Peter's acting the hero won't protect him. He needs to learn to believe in himself and his art. Only then will he be able to stop the evil in front of him.

It also shouldn't go unmentioned that the fact the movie takes place in the American suburbs is within itself a social commentary. A lot of emphasis isn't placed on it, so I won't belabor the point but ever since WW2, suburbia was considered a safer alternative to life in a big city. By the 1980s however crime was on the rise in the suburbs. A vampire moving into the area doesn't help either.

At this point it seems like I have discussed everything in "Fright Night" except for the vampires and the horror. The movie could be described as a modern day adaptation of the vampire legend, only instead of a European setting, it takes place in America. This isn't exactly an entirely new concept as "Son of Dracula" (1943) for example did something similar and could be interpreted as a commentary on WW2. For its part however "Fright Night" does a moderately good job of retelling a traditional vampire story while finding humor in its contemporary setting. Maybe that's why the wonderful New York Times critic Janet Maslin wrote in her review, the movie "has a lot more personality than the usual horror film". That "personality" most likely referred to the comedic elements in the story, which may have made this material feel fresh for 1980s audiences. If that were true, it would be quite ironic because back in the 1940s it was "Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein" (1948) that brought about a renewed interest in Universal's Monster characters.

The 1980s by extension seems to have been part of a trend of taking these horror monsters and adapting them in modern times, sometimes for comedy. In 1985 alone you had "Teen Wolf" and "Weird Science"; modern takes on the Wolf Man and Frankenstein's Monster. But the decade also saw  "Monster Squad" (1987), "An American Werewolf in London" (1981), "The Howling" (1981) and "Frankenweenie" (1984).

Part of what makes "Fright Night" fun to watch is catching the references to older vampire movies such as  "Dracula" (1931) and "Nosferatu" (1922). For example, how does Peter discover Jerry is a vampire? When he doesn't see Jerry's reflection in his pocket mirror, which is very similar to how Van Helsing discovers Dracula's identity in the 1931 movie. Or what about Jerry's long fingernails and skinny, long fingers? That recalls Count Orlok. In one of the movies within the movie, Peter drives a stake into a vampire's heart while blood squirts on him. This is supposed to make us think of the bloody Hammer horror movies.

One element of the movie that managed to divided critics was the movie's special effects. Movie critics like the Chicago Tribune's Gene Siskel felt the gore became too excessive and lost focus of the humor at the beginning of the movie. Janet Maslin had a similar complaint, stating in her review, "its horrific touches are more disgusting than scary." Meanwhile Roger Ebert praised the effects believing they never "overwhelm the action." The effects were done by Richard Edlund, who had previously worked on "The Empire Strikes Back" (1980), "Return of the Jedi" (1983), "Poltergeist" (1982) and "Ghostbusters" (1984). I found the special effects to be quite scary at times and always remained impressed by their craft and artistry.

Tom Holland's career seemed to show great promise with this feature-length directorial debut but the rest of his career never quite matched this movie's potential. One bright spot may have been as the director of the original "Child's Play" (1988) movie, which is arguably the best in the franchise. One of his low points may have been as the director of "Thinner" (1996), based on a Stephen King book.

"Fright Night" was a successful film at the box-office becoming the second highest grossing horror movie of 1985, only second to "Nightmare on Elm Street 2". It's popularity brought about a sequel, "Fright Night 2" (1988) which was unfortunately poorly distributed and unable to match the original's fame. A remake was created back in 2011 starring Colin Farrell as Jerry, as well as its own sequel, "Fright Night 2: New Blood" (2013).

For the last forty years it appears the consensus has been that "Fright Night" is a campy horror / comedy, and that is how the positive reviews describe it. Somehow the film's themes and subversion of horror clichés were lost on critics at its time of release. Perhaps because it wasn't deemed serious for a proper critical analysis. That makes me wonder who are these arbiters of taste that get to decide such things? Nevertheless, "Fright Night" is an entertaining horror movie that perceptive eyes will find many rewards in. Roddy McDowall steals the movie and becomes an on-screen delight.

Film Review: Secret of the Blue Room

  "Secret of the Blue Room"

   ** 1/2 (out of ****)

The Universal horror / mystery, "The Secret of the Blue Room" (1933) is a true oddity; an inferior rehashing of various plot elements from prior Universal productions, and the strangest examination on the fragility of masculinity I've seen in a long time.

"The Secret of the Blue Room", which was based on a German film with a similar title, follows in the tradition of the haunted house genre established in silent films  "The Bat" (1926) and "The Cat and the Canary" (1927) and later in sound films like "The Old Dark House" (1932); coincidentally the latter two were released by Universal.

The film begins at Castle Helldorf  with the clock striking midnight, signifying the 21st birthday of Irene (Gloria Stuart), as she is surrounded by her father, Robert (Lionel Atwell) and three would be suitors; Walter (Paul Lukas, who I must point out was Hungarian, due to nationalistic pride), Frank (Onslow Stevens) and Tommy (William Janney). This scene will make many modern viewers uncomfortable. First, there is much emphasis placed on Irene's age. In the U.S. in the 1930s, the age of consent was between 16 - 18 but by 21 a person was a legal adult and wouldn't need parental approval for, oh say getting married. The way director Kurt Neumann lingers on this presents the men like vultures going after their prey. It is also bizarre that dear ol' dad just stands by and watches - so much for a paternal instinct (!). And doesn't Irene have any female friends that she could have invited to a birthday celebration?

Perhaps in order to restore some sort of gender balance, screenwriter William Hurlbut - who wrote "The Cat Creeps" (1930), which is now considered lost - has Irene go from prey to huntress, as she sits at a piano and sings I Can't Help But Dream of You; a song with a certain irony to it since the film will become a story about characters that don't want to fall asleep. While we are still able to see the men lust after Irene, it is also noticeable how Irene has these men wrapped around her finger. All she needs to do is simply look at one of the men while she sings a lyric and it causes the men to jockey for position amongst each other. Because this film was based on German material, it made me think of a famous scene from Josef von Sternberg's "The Blue Angel" (1930) when Marlene Dietrich's Lola Lola sings Falling in Love Again, which also had a coyish flirtation to it. The scene here doesn't have the excitement of Sternberg's scene however because Stuart is no Dietrich and Neumann is no Sternberg, meaning they lack the sexuality and visual flair of the former pair.

As the night goes on the group turns their attention to a potential curse that may haunt the castle. Twenty years ago three people were killed in what is known as  "the blue room". Each mysterious death occurred at the stroke of 1am, with the murderer never discovered. In order to prove which of the men is the most courageous - after Irene states the man she marries must have courage - Tommy suggest each of the men spend a night in the blue room, not only to demonstrate their bravery but to also disprove the curse. 

One of the mistakes "The Secret of the Blue Room" makes is not having us see the characters arrive at the castle. This is usually an old standby of the genre; creating extraneous circumstances for a group of individuals to all arrive at the same location. This was wonderfully done in "The Old Dark House". It would have also been better if the men didn't know each other or Irene prior to that night and each fell under her charms.

Also missing from the film is any atmosphere and mood. Where are the old clichés - rain and lightening, a power outage, sinister shadows and interesting camera angles? The film doesn't take advantage of its setting and has a consistent lighting scheme, creating no contrast. How is the audience supposed to be afraid of anything? 

This is quite remarkable considering Universal was the studio that was identifying itself with the horror genre through such titles as "Dracula" (1931), "Frankenstein" (1931), "The Old Dark House" and "The Cat and the Canary". Those films had rich aesthetics based on German Expressionism and Gothic architecture and were directed by stylish storytellers such as Tod Browning, James Whale and Paul Leni. "The Secret of the Blue Room" doesn't have that luxury; although director Neumann had done other horror films, his best known may have been "The Fly" (1958), a fun "B" movie though it does make a social critique. 

While it has been noted "The Secret of the Blue Room" was filmed on sets that also appeared in "The Old Dark House", the film's most distinguished aesthetic is its choice of the placement of statues of Knights in armor throughout the castle. This most likely represents physical acts of strength and bravery. It is as if the castle is a reminder and a taunt of their masculinity or lack thereof.

Notice how "Blue Room" films the scenes when the men individually spend the night in the "cursed" room. It never focuses on the men's apprehension to be in the room. It never heightens the suspense of the situation. Neumann continuously cuts away from the room. When Tommy is the first to spend the night in the blue room the film cuts to Frank and Walter, sharing a room in separate beds. Frank is worried about Tommy and Walter wants to go to sleep. This may seem like unnecessary comic relief but can be interpreted as the embodiment of Freud's Id, Ego and Superego. Tommy is visited by  Irene, while he is in the room. He takes her concern as meaning she cares for him. As he embraces her however she pulls away thus causing him to double down on his decision to remain in the room. In this sense Tommy is the Superego (morality), Frank, the Id (his instincts of possible danger take over) and Walter the Ego (rational).  So while Neumann may cut away to add to the mystery of not knowing what happened, in this particular sequence it can also add to the psychological nature of the characters. It also becomes a wasted opportunity of not visually presenting this psychology through the horror genre. 

One of Neumann's best attempts at horror / suspense is when Frank is in the room. Naturally not one to admit fear, Frank takes a bottle of alcohol with him into the room and begins to play the piano. The camera cuts away to Walter and Irene sitting side by side. They can hear Frank's playing though Irene remains afraid. Walter comforts her by holding her close to him. Within one shot we are getting a mixture of sex (Walter and Irene) and horror (the anticipation of the piano playing to stop). It becomes a visualization of a line Irene tells Tommy earlier in the film, "It must be terrible to be a man and have to be brave." Irene then adds as a woman she can be a coward and have a clean conscience. While the line reinforces gender stereotypes and expectations, it also serves as a justification for the very existence of the film; men proving their bravery. 

"Blue Room" then goes to the usual task of creating possible suspects for viewers such as the Butler (Robert Barrat), the Maid (Muriel Kirkland) and the Chauffeur (Russell Hopton) who are interrogated by a police Commissioner (Edward Arnold) after bodies start disappearing. In critic Mordaunt Hall's New York Times review he actually described this portion of the film as successful in "stirring up a good deal of suspense" claiming the Commissioner was clever. I found these moments rushed and rather than making the Commissioner "clever", I found the script made the suspects "dumb". The only thing that really stood out to me was the rather condescending way the Commissioner and other male characters spoke to the female characters often calling them "little girls".

Credit however should be given to the cast, who all more or less live up to what is expected from them. Some modern viewers may recognize the name Gloria Stuart as the Old Lady from "Titanic" (1997). Stuart appeared in a few of Universal's memorable horror films, "The Old Dark House" and "The Invisible Man" (1933). When a scene calls for Stuart to exhibit innocence, fear, and sexuality, she can do a modest job. Lionel Atwill was an actor I always got the impression wanted to be a great and serious actor and somehow found himself in "B" horror movies. Here he is asked to play his usual refined and distinguished gentleman. The Academy  Award winning actor Paul Lukas wasn't normally cast in leading man roles, due to his accent; however he is admirable in the role portraying not just bravery but a level and calm seriousness and intellect. It becomes the qualities the two other would be suitors lacked.

By the end of "The Secret of the Blue Room", in its attempts to add mystery and suspense, the film raises questions it never has answers for. Some mysteries simply go unexplained. This may be due to the film being Universal's least expensive production of the year, indicating little thought, craft and time went into the film's execution. It is said the film was shot over a six day shooting scheduled. Previous Universal films were just slightly longer in their running time; by no more than 15 minutes, however, there seems to have been a considerable amount of material left on the cutting room floor for this film.

The best that can be said is the film's theme becomes explicitly clear by the film's conclusion; it is perfectly summed up by one of the characters. I also believe the psychological significance of the color blue should be obvious. Blue can sometimes be interpreted as calm and serene - the color of the sky or water - or even melancholy - feeling blue - but it can also symbolize fragility. That can't be an accident.

Thematically this would not be unusual for the pre-code Universal horror films of the 1930s. They often centered around male insecurities and anxieties; man playing God, the fragility of life ("Frankenstein"), sexual repression ("Dracula"), fear of the unknown (honestly pick practically any horror film)..etc. That's what makes "The Secret of the Blue Room" disappointing. It touches on what Universal was doing; both thematically and stylistically, but fails to match or elevate that material. A result of its rushed production, maybe.

Universal evidently liked (?) this material because the film was remade twice; however both times comedic elements were added to the story. The first adaptation was called "The Missing Guest" (1938) and the second, "Murder in the Blue Room" (1944), which went as far as to add comedic songs.

Retrospective reviews I have come across have praised "The Secret of the Blue Room", believing it possesses all of the hallmarks of Universal's best horror movies. While the movie does begin with a storm, that atmosphere does not carry through the rest of the picture. Yes, there is one shot of the shadow of a figure that frightens Irene but the dramatic tension and suspense is not captured as it had been in previous films. These are minor efforts that make this film a "second tier" effort at best. Furthermore none of these reviews mention the film's themes and psychology, which leads me to wonder what exactly were they watching. 

"The Secret of the Blue Room" is a mild mystery / horror film that lacks scares, suspense and atmosphere. The strongest aspect of the film ends up being an examination on the fragility of masculinity. If you'd like to watch a better Universal movie that takes place in a scary old house, find "The Old Dark House".

Film Review: Monster

 "Monster"

  *** (out of ****)

One of my favorite horror films of the last decade or so was the Australian film "The Babadook" (2014) directed by Jennifer Kent. I was so impressed by it that I not only placed it on my year-end top ten list in 2014 but included it in my best of the decade list as well.

While "The Babadook" was Kent's feature-length film debut, many may not be aware the film was actually based on a short film she completed several years earlier called "Monster" (2005). Given this year's blog theme, Life is Short - my year long look at short films - and the fact it is October, a time of year when I review more horror films - now seemed like a perfect opportunity to discuss this short.

 As you watch "Monster" - you can find it on YouTube - you can see the germ of the idea that would become "The Babadook". In fact seeing this short again makes me appreciate that film even more, especially when considering where Kent started and how she flourished the idea, providing much needed context and layered emotional / psychological interpretations. If you watch these two films back-to-back you are seeing the growth of an artist.

At approximately 11 minutes "Monster" touches on the core idea presented in "The Babadook"; a nameless Mom (Susan Prior) is raising a Son (Luke Ikimis-Healey) by herself. Unlike in "The Babadook" however no explanation is given for the father's absence. The film opens with the Son loudly playing, as children tend to do. He is pretending to be a Knight killing a monster, a somewhat ugly looking doll. He runs around the house yelling. Mom is in the kitchen doing the dishes. All that can be heard in the house is the Son playing.

Within the first two scenes of "Monster", Kent has immediately addressed the movie's central conflict between Mom and Son. The "soundtrack" of Mom's life is her Son screaming. Kent keeps the sound design at a minimal. There's no music, no television playing the background, and no street noise. Just the sound of the Son playing. What Kent has done here is turned the audience not into impartial viewers but completely sympathetic to Mom's plight. Kent has taken something innocent, the joyous sound of a child playing, and transformed it into something agonizing. 

From there Kent visualizes what could be her greatest representation of Mom's emotional state and the film's theme; the difficulty of motherhood. When we see Mom doing the dishes it is a medium shot of her face but then the camera pulls back into an extreme long shot and now we are on the outside looking into the kitchen through the window; which has bars on it. Kent wants us to see Mom as trapped in "prison".

It is also important to pay attention to which room in the house Kent chose to film this shot; the kitchen. A room often fraught with sexism - a woman's place is in the kitchen - but also a sign of domesticity. Mom is doing the dishes and she is "trapped". Trapped by the expectations of society's view of women and mothers. Kent could have situated this shot in any room of her choice; how about mom lying on a sofa trying to watch TV? But that wouldn't conjure the additional layers of being in the kitchen and doing the dishes does.

Kent doesn't stop at this visualization however, she builds on it with cut away shots of water pouring onto the dirty pots and pans and a shot of liquid about to overflow from a pot on the stovetop. This is all done while the sounds of the Son's screaming fill the air. The nearly overflowing liquid capturing the simmering rage inside the Mom as she is about to reach her boiling point.

This reminded me of a scene in "The Babadook", where after a long day with her son, mom wants to unwind before she goes to bed and take a moment for herself. In the scene she reaches for her vibrator, which much like the kitchen, is loaded with multiple meanings; ranging from being identified with feminism to a symbol of sexual autonomy. As she uses it however; bringing herself closer and closer to orgasm, she is interrupted by her son, who jumps onto her bed, thus "invading" her space . A scene like this could have gone a number of ways. Mom could have been with a man and the son walks in on them but then you lose the lack of personal intimacy and loneliness the mother is feeling. She has no human companionship, just the inanimate vibrator. Both the kitchen scene in "Monster" and the vibrator scene in "The Babadook" capture the overwhelming sense of claustrophobia mom feels.

When "The Babadook" was first released Kent did an interview with the British newspaper The Guardian, where she confirmed her motivation for making the film. "We're all, as women" Kent said "educated and conditioned to think that motherhood is an easy thing that just happens." Kent went on to add in the interview, "I wanted to show a real woman who was drowning in that environment."

That sense of "drowning" goes beyond the kitchen metaphor. "Monster" shows us what appears to be a daily routine - doing dishes and laundry. And notice the little touch Kent throws in about the laundry. When Mom is in the Son's bedroom she is almost hesitant to flip over his blanket, where it is revealed the Son wet the bed. Putting aside whatever psychological trauma this behavior may represent for the Son, Kent keeps the focus on Mom's reaction, implying it is one more thing she must deal with and put up with. It becomes part of the "burden" of motherhood. That "burden" then becomes crystalized when the Son playfully tells his Mom he killed a monster to protect her. Mom doesn't smile or speak to the Son. She retains a blank expression on her face, stares at him and proceeds to finish the household chores. We can sense the tension in the air between them.

Once all of this has been established Kent then shifts the film's tone, creating a more atmospheric psychological horror story. After Mom and Son have a verbal outburst do we then get our first glimpse of the Monster (Trash Vaudeville, which I can't for the life of me believe is a real name but that's who is credited) crunched in the corner of a closet. At first Mom questions what she is seeing but then suddenly the door shuts itself. Startled, Mom opens the door again and sees no one is there.

This adds a rich layer to "Monster". It makes the audience wonder does the Monster really exist or is it a representation of Mom's frustration and anger? It is a move that elevates the material into the kind of horror film I personally prefer; one that examines the horror within us. That is much more scarier than any slasher movie filled with blood and guts.

Given the short running time of "Monster" unfortunately Kent can't quite properly continuously build suspense or create the same level of an eerie atmosphere as she did in "The Babadook" but Kent has the right instinct not to let the presence of the Monster dominate the film. The Monster symbolizes an evil force or spirit that has the potential to loom large over any scene. It is that anticipation that makes "Monster" scary. 

In both "Monster" and "The Babadook", Kent is rather forthright in answering the question of whether or not the Monster exist. I think Kent tips the audience off in two ways; a tender embrace between Mom and her sleeping Son; and a final image suggesting in one way or another we all need to learn how to "feed the beast" in order to lead happy, healthy and productive lives.

Attention should also be given to the acting in "Monster" and in particular Susan Prior's performance. Prior does a fine job of manifesting Mom's exhaustion and later transformation into contentment. Within a short period of time and with limited dialogue Prior's face tells us the whole story and finds a way to make her character sympathetic; despite the risky nature of the character; a mother disconnected from her child. In that same Guardian interview, Kent says she was initially worried about how mothers would react to her work but states, "I've experienced a collective sigh of relief that women are seeing a mother up there that's human."
 

When I first saw "The Babadook" I had hoped it would be the emergence of a fresh new talent. Disappointingly Kent hasn't been as active as I would have liked. Within the course of the eleven year span since the release of "The Babadook", Kent has only directed one other feature length film, "The Nightingale" (2018), which was also a powerful story. I can only hope sexism isn't playing a role in Kent's ability to get financing for her films.

Although it was my predilection to use this year's Life is Short theme to focus on older, silent films - D.W. Griffith, Georges Melies, Guy-Blache, Chaplin...etc. - "Monster" demonstrates the value of  the art of modern day short films. They can be used as a launching pad to help establish the seeds for talented filmmakers. Jennifer Kent is a great example. 

Jennifer Kent's "Monster" doubles as an entertaining, atmospheric horror film and as a strong social critique on the difficulties of motherhood. We can see the seeds of what would become "The Babadook", where all of Kent's creative talents would come together. "Monster" is a thrilling "first draft" which would make an excellent double-feature this Halloween with "The Babadook".