Ghost Upon the Floor

Last night was one of my favorite nights of the year. The night, in October, when I watch one of my favorite movies— one that I watch several times a year— “Practical Magic.” Released to success in 1998, the film has since on home video and streaming become an autumnal cult classic among those who love magic and witches. 

 Based on the Alice Hoffman novel of the same name, the film takes several liberties from the novel, and they all work beautifully. “Practical Magic” is a beauty story of sisterhood, love, family and being different, told in only the way that witchcraft can. In more recent years, Hoffman has written now three sequel novels: “The Rules of Magic,” a prequel about the aunts Jet and Frannie and their backstory; “Magic Lessons,” the Owens’ family ancestor Maria’s backstory, and “The Book of Magic” and sequel that follows our beloved characters after the events of “Practical Magic.” For the few years, a series adaptation of “The Rules of Magic” has been in the works at HBO, and I sincerely hope it happens, as it is my favorite novel in the series, and one of my all time favorites. They also need to make it, so that a proper adaptation of “The Book of Magic” can be done; a story that practically begs for Bullock, Kidman, Weist and Channing to reunite and tell.

 Back to the magic of the film at hand. The story is beautiful. The lines I know by heart. The comfort is all around, and I will never tire of watching it. For plot points so fantastical, so much is said so aptly about human relationships, how we survive and the family we keep along the way. 

 Things that struck me on this viewing. The chemistry between all our actors; especially Kidman and Bullock and Channing and Weist. Also, the young actors who play Bullock’s daughters are so good. The house, oh goodness the house. Few houses on film, gorgeous and old and sprawling and covered with cats and books and plants and love— and a greenhouse— make me want to live in them more. Part of me always will live, however, in the house with rosemary planted by the garden gate. And where I fall in love as often as I can. 

Last night it was time for another newer (to me) Halloween classic: 1967’s “Mad Monster Party?” Rankin and Bass, of “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” and other stop-motion animation Christmas classics fame, made this lesser known special as their answer to Halloween.

  Part love letter to the Universal Monster movies, part 1960s music extravaganza, “Mad Monster Party?” is an all that and the kitchen sink special that is incredibly endearing. Perhaps the program’s biggest claim to fame— and arguably best feature— is the get of having Boris Karloff himself voice, and sing, the part of Baron von Frankenstein, our Dr. Frankenstein character who’s discovery brings together our gallery of monsters— from Dracula, the Werewolf, the Creature (from the Black Lagoon) and others. And, of course, the Mummy. It’s the Mummy. It’s the Mummy.

 The first time I watched this, the songs didn’t make much of an impression of me, but, with their zany cheer they, they enchanted me. And that happens all the more so with each viewing.  On this viewing, I also realized that one of the things I love most about this is the incredible, gorgeous and painstakingly made and designed sets. The creepy ship, Frankenstein’s Castle, the island and the lagoon. This is art made by people who love the classic monster movies, and it shows. 

 Last night I visited with one of my more recent additions to my favorite seasonal films: 1971’s “Tales from the Crypt.” Part 1950s horror comic anthology, part 1970s Hammer horror film, “Tales from the Crypt” is a film all its own. 

 Several years ago, I randomly stumbled across this film, as you should, late one night about 1am, and stayed up to watch it all. I loved the 1990s HBO show of “Tales from the Crypt,” and I’ve even king loved the 1950s era comics on which it was based. But somehow I never knew there was a film that came first, in 1971, and it featured Joan Collins in the iconic segment of murder and a psychotic— and also murderous— Santa Claus.

I find something so comforting in the way the cemetery is shot in the opening, our strangers brought together on a cemetery tour of a crypt. And something so comforting about the 1970s, almost Hammer like horror effects. The fake blood and the zombie makeup, and the dead rising from their graves. What more could you want?

 Watching this again, I was struck by how strong each segment is. Joan Collins’ opener is epic, and gets a lot of the recognition for the film, but each segment— especially Peter Cushing’ tale of neighborly strife. From the moment each segment starts, we know how it will end, and we will happily go along for the ride anytime. 

 The character of the Crypt Keeper is also so well done in this. The polar opposite of the HBO series’ ghoulish puppet, in this version, the Crypt Keeper of the the tales is simply a man in a brown robe and hood. Not showy at all, letting the pure, pulpy horror fun of the tales take center stage. A beautiful piece of horror filmmaking. 

 There are so, so very many bad horror film sequels out there. Some in franchises I love. But horror sequels were once done right, and perhaps none so right as arguably the first, most-high profile time: with “The Bride of Frankenstein,” James Whale’s sequel to “Frankenstein,” released in 1935. 

 I could not love “The Bride of Frankenstein” more. Normally, I save it for a bit of Universal Monster magic later in October; however, last night, I decided to indulge myself early on. What makes this film so special? Perhaps it is the inventiveness found all around. From the opening, when we are treated to a terrific scene showing Elsa Lancaster as Mary Shelly talking on a stormy night with her husband Percy and Lord Byron. Lancaster is fantastic as Shelley, as she spars with Byron and Percy, in a gorgeously decorated room. Working on her needlepoint, there’s something so impressively confident about her Shelley, and we fully believe that this is genius that wrote “Frankenstein.” 

 Other things that set this film apart. The actors. Karloff’s Monster is allowed to shine even more here, as he gets lengthy character driven scenes like the ones in the cottage with the blind man, and delicious straight up horror film scenes, like his emerging from the burned windmill in the beginning, where he sends the parents of the girl thrown in the water in “Frankenstein” to join her. Colin Clive is again perfect as Henry Frankenstein, aided with an assist by Ernest Thesiger’s Dr. Pretorious, a new, deeply comic, deeply creepy and deeply horrifying character. 

 The score is sweeping and even grander than the first film. The sets, too. The sets which excelled in “Frankenstein” are expanded, and absolutely lush, gothic and gorgeous. My favorite perhaps being the graveyard being literally expanded, from the iconic opening scene in the first film, and takes us down into the crypt where the Monster literally stumbles upon a dead woman and asks, “Friend?”

 And, of course, Elsa Lancaster is perfect to immortality as the Monster’s Bride in the film’s horrific, heartbreaking conclusion. What a gorgeous horror film, sequel, and artistic achievement in its own right. 

  Maybe Tod Browning’s “Dracula,” from 1931, is my favorite of the Universal Monster films. Picking between them is a bit like picking a favorite child, I’d imagine— but, just maybe, “Dracula” is my favorite. I have long loved the myth of vampires, especially Bram Stoker’s masterpiece “Dracula” which popularized so much of the vampire mythology we have in current pop culture. And Browning’s film is a large part of that. 

 Last night was “Dracula’s” turn on the stage of 31 Days of Scary movies. This film is another I watch many times a year, and always, without fail, in early October. There is just simple perfection in the black and white crackling world of Renfield’s travel to Transylvania, where he meets the locals who fear Count Dracula— and then the count himself.

 And what a Count he is. Bela Lugosi’s performance will live as long as film is remembered, and rightly so. The performance he mastered for years on the stage is at full, captivating, haunting and frightening power here on film. 

 Things of note that stayed with me after last night’s viewing. The power of the direction. The scene where Dracula is first seen, rising with his brides from their coffins; in silence, among the rats in the cavernous crypt. The camera pans so expertly, and creates such a sense of unnatural and macabre dread that works as well today as it first did decades and decades ago when it was shot. 

 Also, while no adaption of Stoker’s novel has ever been quite faithful on film— and most vary wildly— for all the liberties Browning’s film takes, it works so well as a film, while keeping the main story beats. Yes, Renfield takes Jonathan Harker’s story in the beginning and is the one to travel to Transylvania, but the journey to Transylvania happens; they travel to England aboard the Demeter in a storm; arriving at Whitby. Lucy dies, and Mina is threatened; and Dracula, and his evil, eventually is defeated at the end. The changes the film makes just work, and are a large part of the reason this classic endures.

 Happy Halloween, “Dracula.” Maybe my favorite child of the night.