Get To Know A Horror Classic: Dressed To Kill

Dressed To Kill (1980)

Starring: Michael Caine, Angie Dickenson, Nancy Allen, Keith Gordon

Director: Brian De Palma

I'm not positive that this technically counts as a horror movie, and the fact that I'd never even heard of it until recently makes me question whether or not it could be considered a classic. But it was another movie mentioned in Jason Zinoman's Shock Value, and more importantly, it was free on Netflix, so here we are.

Before I go any farther, let me go ahead and roll out a blanket spoiler alert for this segment, because most of what I have to say revolves around the movie's big plot twist. So if you haven't seen it (you've had 31 years to do so) and you don't want the ending to be ruined, proceed not. Thou have been warned.

Now, when I read about this movie in Shock Value, author Jason Zinoman focused on the feelings of loneliness and insecurity that lead Kate Miller (Angie Dickinson) to the bed of a stranger who would apparently go on to murder her. He compares her relationship with her son, Peter (Keith Gordon) with that of Brian De Palma's relationship with his own mother. Peter is forced to become a psuedo-private eye in order to find Kate's killer, and De Palma was forced into a somewhat similar situation, not to find his mother's killer but rather working on her request to catch his father in the act of infidelity.

So when I started the movie, I expected the film to focus on that relationship. Little did I know that most people who have seen the movie probably paid most attention to the fact that not only is Michael Caine the killer, but he's also a a transsexual. Yeah, I didn't see that one coming either. In fact I didn't even know Michael Caine was in the damn movie before I watched it.

But apparently, his character, a therapist named Dr. Richard Elliot, takes the phrase "physician, heal thyself" to a whole new level. His inner conflict over his desire to become a woman drove him to multiple personalities, and the female personality, Bobbi, becomes so angry over his inability to give in to that desire that she kills anyone who engages his male sexual urges.

Caine's character drew a bit of backlash from the gay and transgender community, who chastised the movie for propagating negative stereotypes of gay and I'm going to go ahead and call shenanigans here, however. We don't blame Hannibal Lecter's European descent for his being a cannibal, do we? Just because the Jaws was a shark isn't necessarily why he eats people. Ok, bad example. The point is that true equality means that homosexuals and transsexuals have just as much chance to be fucked up as the rest of us. (Note:  Since I originally wrote this post a few years ago, I've amended my line of thinking.  In a culture where transsexuals/homosexuals are still depicted as abnormal, the depiction of a transsexual as mentally ill only further entrenches an incorrect stereotype, particularly since there are no depictions of healthy transsexuals in the movie.  To take the stance of "equality means everyone can be fucked up" ignores the fact that transsexuals are too often depicted as "fucked up."  I considered removing this paragraph entirely, but I figured it would be better to address the flawed thesis rather than ignore it).

Odd tangent on social relations aside, Dressed to Kill works as an entertaining murder mystery mainly because it takes such a ridiculous concept so seriously. This is a movie where a bored, lonely housewife is slashed to death by a pre-op transsexual, only to have her death investigated by her vengeful son working with the hooker who has been falsely accused of the murder. Oh, and it also has Dennis Franz before his transformation into a troll was complete.

Aw, that hair is just hanging on for dear life.

Even with all of this crazy shit going on, the movie never winks at the camera or slips into camp. It treats this bizarre sequence of events seriously enough that I found myself taking it seriously (most of the time). De Palma pulls this off by making his characters either likeable enough (Kate and Peter) or at least interesting enough (Dr. Richards) to become invested in them. That's usually the element that will make or break a horror movie, and Dressed to Kill passed that test. Plus, if nothing else, it adds an extra twist to the Batman movies when you picture Alfred wearing four-inch pumps and a black cocktail dress while Bruce Wayne goes out to fight crime.

Get To Know A Horror Classic: Masque Of The Red Death

Masque of the Red Death (1964)

Starring: Vincent Price, no one else of consequence

Director: Roger Corman

Before last night I'd never watched a Vincent Price movie (I'm assuming Edward Scissorhands doesn't really count) nor had I ever seen a Roger Corman movie. So, I figured what better way to start off than with a movie from both men, an adaptation of Edgar Alan Poe's "Masque of the Red Death."

In Poe's version, the hedonistic Prince Prospero holes himself and one thousand of his courtesans in his palace to ride out the Red Plague, a disease that, over the course of about 30 minutes, kills its victim and leaves their face a deep, blood red (hence the name). Anyone familiar with Poe's work can probably guess that the plan doesn't go particularly as planned.

I was a little apprehensive about how Corman's take would stand up to the original story. I'd heard that Corman's modus operendi is to shoot a movie as quickly and as cheaply as possible, so my hopes weren't too high that I'd be in store for anything more than a campy laugh. And the trailer doesn't do much to quell those fears.

On one hand, I wasn't surprised to find that Corman takes quite a few liberties with the script. While Poe's version of the story is very single-minded in telling the story of Prospero's party and the lead up to the court's inevitable destruction at the hands of the Red Death, Corman's version pads the tale by creating an antihero out of Prince Prospero, a Satan worshipper, peasant-torturer, and all around prick. Corman also adds a hero in Gino, the young peasant trying to rescue Francesca, another peasant kidnapped by Prospero. Oh, and for some reason there is a dwarf named Hop Toad who has a completely separate subplot going on with Alfredo, a less-powerful but no less douchey member of Prospero's court who slaps Hop Toad's lady friend around just to prove how douchey he is.

On the other hand, I think Corman was very faithful and effective in producing the same sense of unease the Poe creates in the original story. Poe always preached the need to produce a singular effect in a lot of his work, but I always thought a lot of his work was too busy trying to sound smart to truly create its intended effect. "Masque," however, is perfect because it is succinct, with every word adding only to the effect of giving the reader a a sense of impending doom.

Even with all of it's added subplot, Corman's version accomplishes the same effect. For every atrocity that Prospero commits or every selfish excess played out by members of his court, you know their all getting closer and closer to much-needed retribution. The main difference in the movie is that the audience is likely cheering on said retribution a bit more than they would be in Poe's version. Especially in the case of that douche Alfredo.

One area that did disappoint me was how Corman handles the seven colored rooms in Prospero's palace. In the short story, Poe describes seven rooms, each one designated with a color: blue, purple, green, orange, white, violet, and black. Unlike the other rooms that had windows colored in accordance with the rooms's tint, the window's in the black room were colored crimson red (I wonder what the symbology is there?). I always pictured these rooms as large, almost sublime works of architecture that overwhelm you at first glance But I think Corman's shoestring budget really hurts him in depicting these rooms.

For one thing, there are only four rooms. Green, orange, and violet get the shaft entirely. And the rooms that are depicted are small, half-assed versions of what Poe describes in his story. I'm guessing a few stage hands just took a morning to spray paint 4 stock rooms one color and called it a day. This may not have been as big a deal if not for the fact that the rooms are part of what creates that sense of impending doom.

Cheap sets aside, I was actually pleasantly surprised by Corman's version of Masque. It had a little bit too much melodrama to really ever scare me out of my seat, it did effectively give me the creeps by going down some roads that were darker than I figured a Vincent Price vehicle would be willing to go. It's a good watch for the halloween season, and a great companion piece to Poe's original.

Oh, and because I can't think of Vincent Price without thinking of his "guest spot" on the Simpsons, here it is!

Get to Know a Horror Classic: Night of the Living Dead

Boo, motherfucker! That line would account for about 85% of the scares in I horror movie if I'd written it. But while I have absolutely no business creating a horror movie, that doesn't mean I can't appreciate ones made by people who know what they're doing. I've already alluded to that fact a few times before, but after reading Shock Value last week I feel like taking a tour of some of the classics I've never seen. And maybe I'll take the opportunity to revisit some great ones from when I was a kid.



This week, I'll start with the zombie movie that led the way for all other zombie movies, George Romero's Night of the Living Dead. Made in 1968 in Monroeville, Pa, only a few hours away from where I currently sit, Night of the Living Dead isn't terribly new by today's standards. A small group of people are surrounded by a swarm of ghouls who want little more than to chow down on them. But before Night of the Living Dead, this scenario was unheard of, and it paved the way for a whole host of zombie movies (about 50% of which seem to have been made by Romero). What I wanted to know, though, is how does the movie stand on its own, rather than as a piece of horror movie history?



Well, the first thing that has to be said is that this movie it looks very dated. Even though it was made well after color was put into widespread use, its shoestring budget forced the use of black and white, so it looks like something out of the 40s or 50s as opposed to the late 60s. While this was a flaw for me at first, it actually made the harsh violence that much more shocking when contrasted with the old-style feel the movie has. If someone glanced at the screen, they might expect this movie to be a campy flick about giant radioactive ants or some poor guy stomping around in a crappy rubber suit. Instead, they'd get this:







That is a brutal piece of film work. Sure, there have been gorier scenes since, but the very concept is extremely dark. Firstly, Romero essentially killed a kid, which is usually taboo, even in horror. Secondly, the undead child then proceeds to kill both of her parents. And Romero has no qualms about drawing out the mother's murder, keeping the viewer believing that someone would come down and save her at the last second. Instead, the undead child repeatedly stabs her over and over again. Definitely not something for the feint of heart.



Speaking of harsh, the ending is definitely not geared for folks who want the good guys to win. Ben is not only maybe the only black protagonist in a 1960s movie not played by Sidney Poitier, he's also one of the only black men ever to make it to the end of a horror movie in the history of horror movies. But unfortunately, he only survives the zombie attack to be mistaken for one of them and shot in head by a gaggle of hillbilly zombie killers.







The shot takes place at around the 4:15 mark, but what's worse is the build up. If I'd seen this without knowing what was going to happen it would have been tense, but I think it's even worse knowing what's coming. You want him to make it so badly, and he'd be just about to do that if not for Jethro and his posse. So the fact that Romero teases you with the possibility of a happy ending only to pull the rug out from under you is a real kick in the gut.



Night of the Living Dead is not without its drawbacks. The acting is wooden in a lot of areas and there are a lot of scenes that drag on for way too long (how long can we watch a guy board up windows while a catatonic woman babbles to herself?) but all in all it's still a worthwhile watch, especially when you consider you can see it for free pretty much anywhere since Romero didn't have the foresight to copyright his work. I'm hoping that's a mistake he corrected when he made the sequel, Dawn of the Dead, which I'll likely get to in a later post.