Zombiemania: Lots of Fun, but Where Are the Italians?

With Columbus Day just recently come and gone, I thought I had effectively put my yearly Italian-American outrage behind me. But no. Just one day after watching helplessly once again as the closest thing to the Italians' version of St. Patrick's Day slowly get bumped down the holiday list till it's somewhere between Arbor Day and Boxing Day, I had to sit down and watch Zombiemania on Starz.

That's probably a bit too harsh. I want to flat out say that Starz' newest documentary on the history of zombie movies (originally released last year on Canadian TV) was a real hoot. They did a fine job for the most part, following the evolution of the zombie from the voodoo monster of old, through the Romero rebirth, and right up to the undead renaissance of the past decade.

Interview subjects include Romero, Greg Nicotero, Tom Savini, Brian Keene, Max Brooks, Jovanka Vukovic, Maitland McDonagh and others. All very well-informed, and all have a lot to add to the proceedings.

But that said, there was one glaring omission, and that would be the complete lack of a single reference to the entire Italian cycle of zombie flicks. No Lucio Fulci, no Andrea Bianchi, no nuthin. That's like doing a history of the cowboy genre and leaving out spaghetti westerns. OK, maybe not quite that egregious, since spaghetti westerns are arguably the best of that entire genre, but you catch my drift.

Still, Zombiemania was a very enjoyable little documentary, which got into a lot of aspects of the craze, from zombie walks to zombie comics to Max Brooks giving zombie survival lectures on college campuses. It's cool for a total long-time zombie geek like myself to see something like this. After all these years, I still get a kick out of seeing how mainstream America has finally caught up with us.

But I'm still not letting them off the hook for leaving out the Italians. Disgraziato...

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Two other things:

• If you haven't yet, check out the Dawn of the Dead debate/commentary I did with Brad McHargue of I Love Horror. This is something we originally recorded a few weeks ago, but now Brad has posted it to the excellent site HorrorSquad. So go take a listen.

• Tomorrow marks the second anniversary of The Vault of Horror. That's right, two whole years of me distracting myself from the work I get paid to do. I've got something fun and unique planned, so stay tuned...

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Katie Holmes, Don't Rape My Childhood!

I'm trying to trust the wisdom of Guillermo del Toro right now. I really am. I'm trying to trust the man who translated Mike Mignola's Hellboy flawlessly to the screen, and who so deftly brought nightmares to life in Cronos and Pan's Labyrinth. But my faith is being shaken, I can't deny it.

See, I've been buzzing for months now at the thought of del Toro producing a remake of my all-time favorite TV horror movie, 1973's Don't Be Afraid of the Dark--an obscure, brilliant, yet flawed little picture which, in the right hands, could become a masterpiece. Finally, a remake to be excited about? Right??

Then I wake up this morning, an otherwise fine spring day, to discover that The Hollywood Reporter has uncovered the very first casting news on the upcoming project. Guillermo del Toro's remake will star... Katie Holmes.

Yes, Joey Potter from Dawson's Creek will apparently be heading up the long-awaited, 35-years-in-the-making, big-screen adaptation of the movie that has been an obsession of mine since the age of five, and which is largely responsible for my entire horror fascination. Yes, Katie "I Almost Single-Handedly Ruined the First Great Batman Movie" Holmes, owner of one of the most ho-hum resumes of any mainstream Hollywood leading lady.

Granted, she did put in a somewhat interesting performance in Sam Raimi's all-but-forgotten 2000 chiller The Gift, but is this really a woman who screams out "horror"? Supremo nutball Tom Cruise's captive Stepford wife, the chick who's proven that even the classic Louise Brooks bob can be potentially unsexy? Perhaps my Thetan count is simply too high, but what's a dedicated DBAOTD fan to do but despair?

I'm assuming that Mrs. Cruise has been cast in the role of Sally Farnham, played by former child star Kim Darby in the original. Now, I know what some of you may be thinking. Sally Farnham was certainly nothing to write home about, on any level, going through the film like a somnambulistic 14-year-old boy. I'll grant you that. But that's the whole point, see, I was expecting a lot more from this big-time remake, especially given the impressive fire power involved.

Maybe I'm overreacting. Yeah, that's the ticket. After all, the part calls for a type that's not unlike the public image Holmes has created for herself anyway, right? Maybe her combination of cluelessness and anhedonia is exactly what got her the part in the first place, and will serve her well in portraying the ill-fated housewife targeted by bizarre, otherworldly creatures. Hey, wait a minute. Ill-fated housewife? Targeted by bizarre, otherworldy creatures? ... Holy Jeebus! She's perfect!

Never mind.

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Reliving Childhood Terror: Don't Be Afraid of the Dark

It was just some obscure TV movie that I had seen as a small child on afternoon syndicated TV. Yet it remained burned into my psyche well into adulthood. In fact, I would sometimes wonder if it had ever been a real movie at all, or just a half-remembered figment of my overactive childhood imagination.

In the pre-internet days, before IMDB, I would mention it now and then to others my age, to see if they had seen it, too. A creepy, quirky little flick about a woman haunted by demonic creatures in her furnace, desperate to drag her down to become one of them. To my astonishment, some folks also had half-recalled, vague memories of such a TV movie. Once the internet came into the picture, I still couldn't quite track it down, because I had no idea what the title was, or any of the actors in it. For some bizarre reason I thought Bonnie Franklin was in it. I have no idea why, but alas, I was wrong...

It took years before I was finally able to identify the movie as Don't Be Afraid of the Dark, a TV production originally aired on ABC in October 1973. I had seen it some years later, most likely on a lazy Sunday afternoon at my grandparents' house, where we would go every week, like a good Italian-American family. It scared the living daylights out of me, and I never forgot it.

One of the benefits of writing The Vault of Horror has been that I've been able to get in touch with and share ideas/memories with horror fans both near and far. In this case, one of the near ones, whom I happen to work with, not only was just as obsessed with the movie as myself, but actually had a Japanese DVD in her possession! And so, at long last, I was able to finally return to the movie that had haunted my dreams for some 30 years (Thanks, Tracy!).

Amazingly, so much of it was exactly as I had remembered it from that afternoon long ago. Kim Darby (of The Searchers and Star Trek's Miri episode) plays Sally, a poor young housewife neglected by her over-ambitious husband Alex (played by Jim Hutton, Timothy's dad). To her dismay, upon moving into the home bequeathed to her by her grandparents, Sally finds herself the target of menacing little monsters that she has unwittingly freed from their bricked-in prision within the old furnace in the basement. Over the course of the next hour, they taunt and torture her mercilessly, as she desperately tries to convince those around her that she's not imagining things. Until finally, they drag her kicking and screaming into the furnace. The end.

A large part of what scarred me as a kid was the uncompromising grimness--my Disney-trained brain couldn't conceive of such a tragic ending. And I'm glad to report that the movie remained just as foreboding to me now--although I have no way of really knowing if much of that had to with my memories of it, since my wife was certainly less than impressed.

I'll admit, we're not talking about fine cinema here. But Don't Be Afraid of the Dark is about as good as one can expect an early 1970s network TV movie made in three weeks to be. The acting leaves something to be desired, and unfortunately, the silly little costumes of the furnace creatures are decidedly less frightening now than they were to me then.

Nevertheless, I maintain that the movie still held much of its original power to get under my skin. The score, by prolific TV composer Billy Goldenberg, is genuinely eery and atmospheric. The persistent, whispering calls of the demons ("Saaalllyyyy.....We want you, Sally....") are just as spine-tingling as I remember, and have definitely held up much more than the costumes! What I also love is that you never learn what the creatures are, or how they got there. Creepy as hell.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who was traumatized by Don't Be Afraid of the Dark as a kid. No sooner had I jumped on Facebook after watching the movie than I discovered a group entitled "U Saw Don't Be Afraid of the Dark in the 70s and Are STILL SCARED". Ha. Plus, there's the astonishing news that none other than Guillermo del Toro is prepping a theatrical remake to be released next year! Not bad for a supposedly obscure little TV movie. And you can bet your life that there is much room for improvement here--this is one remake I'm looking forward to with mucho excitement.

I'm not sure about the proprietary rights, but someone needs to put out a box set of TV horror movies from the '70s and early '80s--there's a fortune to be made. Throw in this one, Dark Night of the Scarecrow, Gargoyles, When Michael Calls, etc. There are a lot of us out there who have fond memories of these chillers!

"Ssaaaalllyyyy......"

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Want to Know What Scares Me?

After procrastinating long enough, it's only fair that since my worthy Vault of Horror contributors Karl Hungus and RayRay have seen fit to bare their respective souls around here of late, it's time for ol' B-Sol to come clean and discuss what I've found most terrifying in horror movies over the years.

My lifelong obsession with horror is most certainly tied to this fascination I, along with many others, seem to have with that which I find personally frightening. To a certain extent, it's the rubbernecking phenomenon--we find ourselves morbidly drawn to face the very things that freak us out. Some folks can't seem to relate to this personality trait. I'm betting not many of them are reading this blog.

The earliest sense of true fear I ever remember experiencing with regards to horror came from the movies I was exposed to on regular TV. Like many of my fellow GenXers, I got my first taste of genre movies thanks to the wonderland known as afternoon syndicated TV. Growing up in Brooklyn, that meant WNEW Channel 5, WPIX Channel 11 (a.k.a. "11 Alive") and WOR Channel 9. These channels have since fallen prey to the blights of mini-networks and informercials, but back then, it was a veritable wonderland of spaghetti westerns, Planet of the Apes flicks, kung-fu, Abbott & Costello, and so much more.

Allow me to explain for all you pampered millenials out there. See, we didn't have TV channels specifically designed with 24-hour kids' programming. Forget DVD, I'm going back before VCRs here. We could count all our channels on two hands, and we had to watch what was on--which, with the exception of Saturday mornings and a few hours after school, was stuff not particularly programmed with kids in mind. Sure it sucked compared to the choices kids have today. But on the positive side, it was precisely due to that lack of choice that we got exposed to a lot of great stuff we may never have learned to appreciate had it been set adrift amidst a sea of distractions.

I can recall going over my grandparents' house for Sunday dinner, and later in the day, my little tummy full of macaroni, chicken and salad, experiencing the horrors of Hammer Films at the foot of my grandpa's recliner. This was shocking stuff for a seven-year-old--blood, boobs, demonic vampires seeking to transform you into something that wasn't human.

If memory serves, the one that got to me the most was called Lust for a Vampire, the tale of a naive mortal who becomes entangled in the web of a coven of female bloodsuckers. Although now I may realize it is not the most highly regarded of the Hammer canon, nevertheless, at my tender age it affected me profoundly. And despite my pre-pubescence, I can remember somehow vaguely perceiving the sinister sexuality that pervaded the whole movie, even if I didn't have the intellectual vocabulary yet to recognize it as such.

Interestingly, some of the earliest mental scarring inflicted upon me by horror films came from made-for-TV movies. There was Gargoyles, When Michael Calls, and Don't Be Afraid of the Dark, three early '70s cult favorites that I saw as afternoon reruns, and which became instant nightmare material. The latter film stuck with me so strongly that for years (prior to the advent of IMDB), I kept trying to find out if it was a real movie at all, or just a bizarre figment of my childhood imagination. And who could forget Dark Night of the Scarecrow, which I saw when it aired for the very first time, right around Halloween 1981.

Perhaps it's because I had this exposure as a little kid that I take a relatively liberal attitude toward my own kids and their experiences with horror. I mean, in my case it may have meant sleeping with the covers over my neck to prevent Dracula from attacking me in the middle of the night, but hey, if that's the worst of it, what's the big deal? You grow up, you realize vampires aren't out to get you, and life goes on.

More to come tomorrow...

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Triumph of the Tube: A History of Horror TV, Part 5

It becomes more difficult to judge a certain period in history the closer one actually is to it, which is why covering the recent history of horror on television can present something of a challenge. Nevertheless, most observers would agree that the past several years have seen a promising resurgence of the genre on the small screen, as it has proven more resilient against the competition of the movies than was previously thought possible. In fact, an argument can be made that horror TV over the past dozen or so years has been superior to horror film.

In part, this has been due to the innovations permitted by cable, but ironically, the most popular horror TV show of the past dozen years was to be found on plain old broadcast TV. And a third-rate network, at that.

Based on a somewhat forgettable theatrical teen comedy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer certainly didn't premiere in 1997 to a lot of elevated expectations. It didn't help that it was one of the tentpole shows of the brand-new WB Network, Time-Warner's low-rent black sheep of the broadcast dial. Yet it soon became a show that defied all expectation. Leaving the memory of its cinematic inspiration in the dust, it quickly built a rabid following using a more serious tone and a slick hipness that appealed to a young audience in a way few horror series ever had.

Sarah Michelle Gellar became the genre's next great female star, and an unlikely action hero in the title role. With the still-young internet hitting its stride, Buffy became an early favorite amongst online fans, who debated its every twist and turn in chatrooms, on messageboards, and everywhere in between. In some ways, it was the fan base of Buffy that helped set the standard of genre fandom in the internet age.

An unfortunate switch to the even more low-rent UPN contributed to the show's eventual demise, but it ran for seven solid seasons, and maintained such a hardcore following that show creator Joss Whedon recently brought about an eighth season in comic book form. In 1999, Buffy even spawned a nearly as successful spin-off, Angel, which itself ran for six seasons on the WB.

Buffy and Angel helped bring horror into the homes of a whole new generation of fans, and also proved that network TV could still deliver a tried-and-true genre phenomenon. A whole new sub-genre of teen-oriented (and even more specifically, teen girl-oriented) horror cropped up, as typified by another WB hit, Charmed (1998-2006)--a show about a coven of young, nubile witches that ran for an impressive eight seasons and boasted high-profile actresses like Alyssa Milano, Shannon Doherty and Rose McGowan.

Stephen King, that old warhorse of made-for-TV horror, certainly continued to be a presence in the network realm, bringing his controversial new adaptation of The Shining to ABC in 1997. Purporting to be far more faithful to the novel than Stanley Kubrick's 1980 theatrical version, which King was unhappy with, the movie divided the fanbase between King loyalists and those who felt that despite its creative licenses, the Kubrick film was a far superior work. Two years later, King would also pen his own original screenplay, The Storm of the Century, which was filmed as a mini-series for ABC as well.

With the turn of the century, however, cable TV programming was kicking off what many consider to be something of a golden age--one that is still going on, as a matter of fact. Originally cable programming like HBO's The Larry Sanders Show, Oz and The Sopranos was demonstrating what was truly possible outside the bounds of traditional TV. And before long, the trickle-down effect began to reach genre programming as well.

In 1999, Universal made waves with the introduction of a quirky, hip show called G vs. E (later changed to Good vs. Evil). Inspired by the edgy material of people like Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez, the show proved to be more of a landmark than its lack of ratings success would indicate. It didn't last more than a season, switching from USA Network to the Sci-Fi Channel along the way, but the show's smart writing and clever premise led to bigger and better things down the road for cable horror.

Before long, cable channels were cranking out more and more home-grown horror and sci-fi productions. Naturally, with the good came some bad, as well. Sci-Fi Channel began devoting itself more and more to original programming, including an Invisible Man series, as well as the never-ending stream of generally basement-quality made-for-cable movies (Mansquito, anyone?) which continues to this day.

There was a lot of experimenting going on, and fans were benefiting. Sci-Fi gave us a series based on the horror comedy Tremors (2003). TNT produced the interesting if short-lived Nightmares and Dreamscapes, a series based on the short stories of Stephen King. USA cast Anthony Michael Hall in the role made famous by Christopher Walken for a successful series version of King's The Dead Zone (2002-07). Bravo even put together the very enjoyable 100 Scariest Movie Moments (2004), a very popular mini-series in the format of shows like VH1's I Love the '80s, which continues to be re-shown every year.

In response, network TV put out the likes of a weak Twilight Zone retread (2002-03), the lackluster ABC movie Kingdom Hospital (2004), and Invasion (2005-06), an ill-fated X-Files knock-off which failed to benefit from having the smash hit Lost as a lead-in. By far, the most successful horror-themed network series to come out of the past few years would have to be the CW's Supernatural (2005-), which has managed to capture the same type of audience that made hits out of Buffy, Angel and Charmed.

But even that moderate success couldn't compete with what the folks at Showtime were cooking up, unfettered as they were with the concerns of sponsors. How best to capitalize on what fans loved the most about theatrical horror movies? Simple: Recruit some of the greatest creators in the business to make their own one-hour mini-movies that gave them everything a cinematic horror experience would.

The result was Masters of Horror (2005-07), a series of short films that featured A-level horror directors such as Tobe Hooper, Dario Argento, Stuart Gordon, John Carpenter and John Landis, as well as writers like Clive Barker and Richard Matheson. Highlights included Gordon's adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft's Dreams in the Witch House, Argento's Jenifer, Carpenter's Cigarette Burns, Takashi Miike's Imprint and Hooper's adaptation of Ambrose Bierce's The Damned Thing.

Although the quality was occasionally erratic, the series was the classic example of the possibilities of cable horror. An attempted network TV version of the show, NBC's Fear Itself (2008-09), has only accentuated the difference--with tame, uninspired content that would ensure the show wouldn't outlast its first season.

After Masters of Horror, the floodgates were opened. Showtime followed up with an even-better project, the serial killer series Dexter (2006-), which has proven just as excellent as any highly regarded premium cable dramatic series out there. Not to be outdone, this season HBO unleashed its first genre series in many years with True Blood (2008-), the sleek and sexy tale of vampire-human relations in the Deep South that's steadily and quietly becoming one of the year's sleeper hits.

And beyond the traditional approaches to programming, cable/satellite has taken TV horror in directions previously undreamt of. In 2007, NBC Universal unveiled Chiller, the first major 24-hour horror television channel. The high-definition channel MonstersHD also offers around-the-clock terrors with crystal clear sound and picture. And FEARnet makes use of on-demand technology to offer its subscribers the ability to watch the horror movies they want, whenever they want.

In this day and age of tired torture porn and endless remakes, there are many who would suggest that TV horror has indeed become superior to its silver-screen cousin. With a combination of intelligent, quality programming and network willingness to provide for a voracious and often underfed fanbase, it's pretty hard not to agree. When it come to horror, the boob tube has certainly come a long way--from struggling out of the shadow of radio, to overshadowing its theatrical predecessor.

So the next time you're scouring the listings for a horror flick that's actually worthy of your $11, why bother? With the options available to lucky horror fans today right in their own homes, let them keep their Japanese retreads and PG-13 slashers. Stay home and enjoy!

Other major shows:

• Spawn (1997-99)
• Brimstone (1998-99)
• Blade: The Series (2006)
• Witchblade (2006-)
• Moonlight (2007-08)

Part 1: Fear Invades the Living Room
Part 2: Terror Comes of Age
Part 3: How to Scare Without Losing Sponsors
Part 4: Small-Screen Revolution

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Small-Screen Revolution: A History of Horror TV, Part 4

With the onset of cable television over the course of the 1980s, horror TV underwent something of a transformation. For some time, the increasing brutality on the big screen had posed a challenge to those working on the little screen, who were bound to far more stringent restrictions. But cable, free of the censoring influences of sponsors, would allow them at last to compete on an even playing field.

As it would a decade later in the area of straight drama, HBO led the way. They had given the public a taste of what they could do with The Hitchhiker (1983), an intriguing cross between Twilight Zone and Hitchcock, but even that wasn't enough to prepare audiences for what they were about to unleash at the end of the decade. While the networks continued to churn out popular yet tame material like the vampire cop series Forever Knight (1989-96), HBO took a gamble by infusing sinister new life into a potent old horror franchise.

With Tales from the Crypt (1989-96), horror fans finally got everything they loved about modern theatrical fright films, right in the comfort of their own homes. Using stories--many taken from the legendary EC comic book of 30 years prior--introduced each week by the grisly Crypt Keeper, the show took full advantage of HBO's wide berth, never skimping on the violence and gore, and relishing every minute of it with typical Gaines-ian glee. It was everything the old anthology series of the past had been, taken to a bold and horrifying new level. Plus, it was funny as hell, which made it HBO's first smash hit series.

There was still horror to be found on traditional channels, to be sure, but the old guard almost seemed to have given up trying to keep up, knowing their hands were tied. Instead, the focus switched to the juvenile, and a mini-phenomenon of horror shows for kids emerged. With series like Are You Afraid of the Dark? (1991-96), Eerie, Indiana (1991-92) and the animated Beetlejuice (1989-91), producers no longer had to worry about pleasing an adult horror audience that had grown tired of TV's limitations. Perhaps the best example of all was the wildly successful Goosebumps (1995-98), based on a line of kids' novels by R.L. Stine that were huge back when J.K. Rowling was still a schoolteacher.

When it did try and deal with more grown-up horror, it seemed like broadcast TV was still stuck in the rut of tried-and-true formulas. You had attempts to feed of the success of the past, such as the ill-fated relaunch of Dark Shadows (1990), as well as made-for-TV sequels like Psycho IV (1990) and The Omen IV (1991).

A spate of Stephen King adaptations made the best of network restrictions with mixed results. While some, like The Tommyknockers (1993), proved largely forgettable, others, like the miniseries It (1990) and The Stand (1994) proved quite chilling, if flawed. Some have even argued that the first of the two, featuring the nightmarish clown Pennywise portrayed by Tim Curry, could be one of the finest adaptations of King's work shown on screens of any size.

After spending years taking a beating against the ropes, conventional broadcast TV finally rebounded in 1993 with its first mega-hit in years. Inspired by Kolchak: The Night Stalker of two decades prior, Fox's The X-Files became a hit of massive proportions, helping to propel the fledgling network to major status, and creating a passionate, loyal fan base. The cryptic, supernatural adventures of Agents Scully and Mulder captivated, with their hints of alien invasions, vast government conspiracy and the thin veil of normalcy that protected the regular world from the perils of the unknown.

The series ran for 10 seasons, and attained a popularity rivaled among sci-fi/horror TV only by the likes of Star Trek and The Twilight Zone (and like them, it also made the leap to the big screen). Best of all, it was intelligently written, providing the genre's first breath of fresh air in decades. Nevertheless, for the most part, it would prove to be the exception.

When it came to boob tube scares, the cutting edge continued to be on the pay channels. Showtime threw its hat in the ring in 1993 by teaming directors Tobe Hooper and John Carpenter for the anthology movie Body Bags, and later by reintroducing audiences to an old property with the vastly underrated New Outer Limits (1995-02), as well as Poltergeist: The Legacy (1996-99). Even a commercial cable channel like TNT was able to get into the act, bringing beloved genre commentator Joe Bob Briggs on board to host a series of theatrical horror films packaged as "Monstervision" (1993-00). Nothing like that had been attempted on regular TV since the heyday of the "horror hosts".

By the middle of the 1990s, the entire continental United States was wired for cable. The rules had changed. But that didn't mean that the lower channels on the dial were ready to give up the ghost, if you'll pardon the pun. Although the future of televised horror clearly lay in pay TV, another one of those fledgling broadcast networks was about to pull off just what Fox had done with The X-Files. But this time it would be a show set even more firmly within the scare genre, and as such would become arguably the most successful and beloved "pure horror" TV series of all time.

Other major shows:

• Jeckyll & Hyde (1990)
• Sometimes They Come Back (1991)
• The Langoliers (1995)
• Kindred: The Embraced (1996)

Soon to come: Part 5 - Triumph of the Tube

Part 1: Fear Invades the Living Room
Part 2: Terror Comes of Age
Part 3: How to Scare Without Losing Sponsors

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Children of the Corn's Original Director Unsure of Remake

I happened upon a rather obscure little interview today, and thought it deserved a wider audience. Fritz Kiersch, director of Children of the Corn (1984) was interviewed in the Oklahoma City Community College Pioneer of all places (apparently Kiersch is a former film professor there), and had a few things to say about the Sci-Fi Channel remake currently being made by Donald Borchers, his producer on the original.

"Donald is on his own on this one," Kiersch says. "I wish him the best of luck but the 'Children of the Corn' franchise already exists."

Kiersch also manages to take a swipe at the endless sequels to his movie, explaining the reason they didn't work was that the original Stephen King story wasn't meant to be continued.

Strangely, Kiersch still declares his support for the remake, despite such backhanded praise as, "It is wonderful that someone wants to spice up something I did a quarter of a century ago." Brrrr.

The director admits that he had very little budget to work with, and looks forward to seeing what Borchers will be able to do with the new one. Obviously, Mr. Kiersch is not familiar with the Sci-Fi Channel.

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How to Scare Without Losing Sponsors: A History of Horror TV, Part 3

As was already discussed at length in The Vault of Horror's history of horror movies, the early 1970s was a time of great change in the entertainment industry. In film, the death of the studio system and the fall of the Hays Code meant less restriction on filmmakers than ever before, as could be seen most clearly in the horror genre.

This was a problem for television. Because although social mores were adjusting and heretofore taboo themes were starting to be addressed on the small screen, many of the old restrictions were still in place, certainly much more so than on the big screen. While nudity and gore was the order of the day for the movies, the tube remained comparatively puritanical. For purveyors of televised terror, this added the challenge of capturing an audience despite being unable to compete when it came to much of what was defining horror entertainment at the time.

Ironically, TV networks nevertheless tried their best to beat the studios on their own turf. And so the 1970s became the era of the made-for-TV horror movie. Much of the time, this served only to accentuate the manacles which Standards & Practices had placed upon them--however, at its best, the movement served as proof of the power of effective storytelling over graphic visuals.

A solid example would be ABC's Dracula (1973) starring Jack Palance. But for every Dracula, there was a Look What's Happened to Rosemary's Baby (1973).

One of the efforts that found a place decidedly in the thumbs up category was a project spearheaded by producer Dan Curtis, who had also been responsible for Palance's Dracula. Based on a novel by Jeff Rice with a teleplay by genre legend Richard Matheson, The Night Stalker hinged on an intriguing conceit: scruffy reporter Carl Kolchak has an uncanny nose for the supernatural, and stumbles upon the case of a vampire preying on young girls in Vegas. Unfortunately, his abrasive reputation doesn't help him in getting anyone to believe him.

The Night Stalker TV movie was a such a success that a full-fledged weekly series was developed by ABC for the 1974-75 season, with the delightful Darren McGavin in the lead. Each week, Kolchak came face-to-face with a different monstrous menace. Despite its rigid, formulaic approach, the show managed to be both genuinely funny and genuinely scary.

Although its novelty caught the attention of a cult audience, it wasn't enough to keep the show on the air for more than a season. Nevertheless, Kolchak: The Night Stalker would become one of the most influential TV series in the history of horror. Most notably, Chris Carter has stated that it was the direct inspiration for his show, The X-Files.

But the short-lived Kolchak was an aberration during a time when stand-alone TV movies remained the order of the day. The two-part adaptation of Stephen King's Salem's Lot (1979) was just as enjoyable and frightening as anything in theaters at the time, and the BBC's production of Count Dracula (1977) starring Louis Jourdan (which aired on PBS in America) is considered by some time to be the finest adaptation of Stoker's novel.

Outside the TV-movie, there wasn't much horror on TV to speak of at the time. It seemed that just maybe, network execs were under the impression that the current cinematic horror scene had rendered the episodic horror TV of yesteryear obsolete.

It wasn't until the dawn of the '80s that some dim signs of life began to appear again. In 1980, Hammer Films in the U.K. decided to capitalize on the weight of its name within the genre by introducing the excellent anthology show Hammer's House of Horror. And none other than George A. Romero, one of the States' most revered horror creators from the film world, stepped into the realm of TV with his own unique take on the tried-and-true anthology format.

Tales from the Darkside (1984-88) was at the same time a throwback and a bold step forward. While its very title and package were homages to that which had come before, the Romero-produced series wasn't afraid to change things up. It dispensed with the "host" gimmick, for one, and managed to push the envelope in terms of intensity more than any network anthology series had up to that point. Yet, it could also balance that out with liberal doses of black humor.

The success of Tales from the Darkside was definitely a turning point, and almost single-handedly lifted the concept of the horror TV series out of limbo. Pretty soon, everyone was trying to get in on the act. In 1985, two classic shows from the past, The Twilight Zone and Alfred Hitchcock Presents, were relaunched and rebooted for a new audience--and with effective results, for the most part. The fledgling Fox network cribbed the formula of the old Incredible Hulk series and gave it a horror spin with the vastly underrated series Werewolf (1987-88).

But the ultimate examples of television finally finding its groove in the wake of the new style of horror movie had to be the extension of the 1980s' two most successful horror flick franchises into TV-land. In the late '80s, both Friday the 13th and A Nightmare on Elm Street gave birth to their own TV "spinoffs". Friday the 13th: The Series (1987-90) had nothing to do with the machete-wielding Jason, but rather focused on the exploits of a pair of antique dealers trying to recover cursed antiques from around the globe. Freddy's Nightmares (1988-90), hosted by Robert Englund as Mr. Krueger, followed more of the anthology format, spinning bloody tales of the unfortunate residents of Elm Street.

Freddy's Nightmares caught some attention from fans for raising the gore quotient higher than any TV series had done up to that point. Still, there was only so far it could go, and the show was a mere shadow of its R-rated cinematic counterpart. Although the late 1980s saw what was perhaps horror TV's biggest boom period in terms of the proliferation of shows, the reason it didn't last was that it once again reminded fans of the differences between the big screen and the small.

On top of that, through it all, the networks not only had to contend with the movies and the new VCR technology, but the burgeoning area of cable TV as well. Over the course of the 1980s, cable had been a juggernaut, spreading across the nation like wildfire. And in the case of the premium, sponsor-less channels like HBO and Showtime, the restrictions which had defined TV since its birth were non-existent. Anything went in the maverick new medium, and it would only be a matter of time before cable bigwigs realized this could be applied to original, episodic programming.

Just when it seemed that televised horror could never compete, cable had arrived to give the genre the shot in the arm it needed to stave off extinction. The gloves were off, and HBO was about to bring movie-quality horror into American homes for the first time ever.

Other major shows:

• Frankenstein: The True Story (1973)
• Tales of the Unexpected (1979)
• Dark Night of the Scarecrow (1981)
• Bates Motel (1987)
• Monsters (1988)

Soon to come: Part 4 - Small-Screen Revolution

Part 1: Fear Invades the Living Room
Part 2: Terror Comes of Age

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TV Cult Favorite Comes to DVD at Last

One of the all-time creepiest TV movies of my childhood is about to make it on to DVD (and Blu-Ray) for the first time ever. I know there must be others out there like me who remember this one: Dark Night of the Scarecrow.

Larry "Dr. Giggles" Drake goes full retard as Bubba, a mentally handicapped fellow falsely accused of raping a little girl. When the town goons--led by the always-dependable Charles Durning--get together to put a hurt on him, he disguises himself as a scarecrow. But the thugs aren't fooled, and they gun him down in cold blood. Needlessly to say, ol' Bubba (still in his scarecrow getup) then exacts a bloody vengeance from beyond the grave.

It aired on CBS in October 1981, just in time for Halloween, and even though I was only six, I remember it well. It was pretty intense stuff for early '80s television, and it scared me right out of my elastic disco belt (despite the magnetic buckle). Then again, in those days anything more intense than Mork & Mindy or The Greatest American Hero would've freaked me out. Still, some of the images from that movie remain in my head to this day.

The movie itself was directed by Frank De Felitta, author of the horror novel The Entity, which was adapted into a film two years after Scarecrow was made.

Dark Night of the Scarecrow hits DVD and Blu-Ray next year through Image Entertainment.

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In the interest of self-promotion, I also wanted to point out, for those who haven't already checked them out, that I've started up two other blogs. The first is Following the Equator, which is the only blog on the internet covering Mark Twain-related news and info on a regular basis. Then there's Standard of the Day, where I spotlight a different selection from the Great American Songbook each and every day (Frankensteinia's Pierre Fournier is already a regular reader). Not sure if there's much crossover between horror fans and fans of either Twain or pop standards, but hey, I'm interested in all three, and I can't be the only one. Can I?

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Terror Comes of Age: A History of Horror TV, Part 2

The 1950s was a time of experimentation in television, during which the medium was stretching its wings and trying to figure out exactly what it wanted to be. Much of the early programming could be rather basic in approach and concept. But by the end of the decade, the onset of pre-taping technology allowed for a more cinematic style, and the programming began to mature.

For the horror genre, that maturation took the form of a truly groundbreaking show which to this day remains among the most well-known--if not the most well-known--genre program of any kind. Rod Serling's The Twilight Zone (1959-64) began as a rejected pilot submitted to CBS in 1958, which thankfully was reconsidered and greenlit the following year.

Mostly written by Serling, each episode was narrated by the writer himself, and utilized a brilliant formula that set the standard for all anthology shows to come. Blending elements of horror, science fiction and fantasy, The Twilight Zone presented tales of the bizarre and unsettling, in which nothing was as it seemed. The conclusion of each installment would bring a shocking twist that was sure to keep the audience coming back week after week.

In classic episodes such as "Time Enough at Last", "Eye of the Beholder", "To Serve Man", "The Hitchhiker" and "Terror at 20,000 Feet", genre elements were used to both comment on the culture of the day and creep the holy hell out of viewers. With Serling at the helm, The Twilight Zone was one of the best written, directed and acted shows ever seen on television, and remains a benchmark in genre entertainment.

Naturally, such a successful formula did not go unnoticed, and it wasn't without its imitators. And although devotees of the show may object passionately to its description as such, The Outer Limits (1963-65) was by far the best of them. Focusing more on sci-fi than The Twilight Zone, The Outer Limits still never failed to deliver nightmarish monsters each and every week, and its iconic opening ("There is nothing wrong with your television set. Do not attempt to adjust the picture...") is arguably even more famous than that of its higher profile counterpart.

As innovative as Twilight Zone and its copycats may have been, they still fell within the tried-and-true formula horror had stuck with since the birth of TV: anthology. But by the mid '60s, programmers were finally willing to try something different.

It began with a pair of horror-comedy series which both debuted in the fall of 1964: The Addams Family (ABC) and The Munsters (CBS). The former was based on Charles Addams' morbid series of New Yorker cartoons, which had by then been running for 30 years. The latter was produced by Universal, and spoofed their famous movie monsters by placing them in a family sitcom setting. Although both shows ran for only two seasons, they have since been immortalized in syndication (and now DVD), and will forever be inextricably linked in the popular consciousness.

Still, it remained for television to produce a serious, non-anthology horror series. Ironically, when it finally did, it was almost by accident. When Dark Shadows debuted on ABC in the summer of 1966, it was a gothic soap opera, airing in the afternoon. But a year into its run, it introduced the character of Barnabas Collins, played by Jonathan Frid, changing the landscape of the show and sending its ratings through the roof. The reason was that Collins was a vampire. From then on, the show took on a supernatural horror theme, thus adding teenagers to its traditional audience of housewives. The brainchild of horror TV maven Dan Curtis, Dark Shadows ran five days a week until the spring of 1971, comprising 1,245 episodes in total.

Although perhaps on the wane by the end of the decade, anthology TV was far from dead. In fact, six years after the end of The Twilight Zone, Rod Serling brought a color follow-up to the small screen: Night Gallery (1970-73). With a pilot episode that marked the directorial debut of Steven Spielberg, Night Gallery followed a similar format to the Zone, except that it often combined more than one story in a single episode. It also had less input from Serling, instead featuring short story adaptations. Unfortunately, Serling never matched the success of his first show, and was disappointed by his lack of control over the series.

With the level of sophistication for productions higher than ever, it looked for a time like the future of the genre on television was the made-for-TV movie. The late '60s and early '70s saw a bumper crop of quality examples. Among them was the 1968 adaptation of Dr. Jeckyll & Mr. Hyde, produced by Curtis and starring Jack Palance (they would resume their partnership with even greater results five years later.) A young Michael Douglas starred in the 1972 movie When Michael Calls, an ultra-creepy offering about a long-dead boy making contact with the living via telephone. Among the very best was Gargoyles (1972), featuring some of the earliest work of the late special effects legend Stan Winston.

By the early 1970s, horror on television had come a long way from the radio adaptations of 25 years prior. Nevertheless, it was facing an unprecedented challenge from a motion picture industry that was less restricted than ever before. Horror was changing, and although TV remained largely constrained by network censorship, it nevertheless found a way to stay relevant and innovative--as exemplified by a short-lived series that would prove to have a profound impact on the entire genre.

Other major shows:

• Thriller (1960-62)
• Late Night Horror (1967-68)
• The Sixth Sense (1972)

Soon to come: Part 3 - How to Scare Without Losing Sponsors

Part 1: Fear Invades the Living Room

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