#71 Elvira, Mistress Of The Dark (1988): 7/10



Cheesy horror hostess Evira (Cassandra Peterson), finds herself out of a job after rebuffing the lecherous advances of her new station owner, and finds herself $50,000 short of her dream of making it big in Vegas, so when she gets wind of a potential inheritance after the death of her great-aunt Morgana, she hits the road to the small town of Falwell, Massachusetts, where her brash, insouciant manner does little to endear herself to the town's counsel (including Edie McClurg as the wonderfully named "Chastity Pariah"). Soon she's inherited her aunt's crumbling, dusty old house, and treats it as a fixer-upper opportunity to reinvent herself, even as her uncle, Victor Talbot (W. Morgan Sheppard), turns out to be a practitioner of dark magic who wants the spellbook that was also bequeathed to Elvira.

The first big-screen appearance by Peterson as the character she honed on the small screen throughout the 80s as the macabre mascot of all things creepy, she's a great camera subject, with her expressive blue eyes, towering, jet-black bouffant, and Morticia Addams wardrobe (barely) containing her considerable, uhhhh, "talents". The movie itself is consistently silly, full of groaner dad jokes that generate actual laughs thanks to Peterson's whip-smart delivery. Despite the va-voom exploitation of her beyond-voluptuous figure, the character of Evira is every bit as weirdly innocent a creation as Pee-Wee Herman, inhabiting her own surreal comic atmosphere that makes the film seem divertingly charming rather than crass.

#72 Vamps (2012): 6/10



Vampire Goody Rutherford (Alicia Silverstone) was turned back in the 1840s by Ciccurus (Sigourney Weaver) and has existed throughout the decades subsisting on the blood of rats (she sticks straws in their jugulars and sucks them dry like Slurpees) rather than take a human life. She finally gets a vamp bestie in the early 90s when Ciccurus turns Stacey Daimer (Krysten Ritter), yet even after twenty years of friendship is reticent to reveal just how much older she is. When Stacey falls for handsome Brit Joey Van Helsing (Dan Stevens), she's torn over the decision to off Ciccurus and become human again, gaining back the twenty years of aging she's staved off due to her undead state, knowing she'll be separated from her friend.

Written and directed by Amy Heckerling, of all people (Fast Times At Ridgemont High, Clueless), Vamps is feather-light and only fitfully amusing, but it coasts by on the charm and chemistry of its two leggy leads, who attend "Sanguines Anonymous" meetings to keep their blood cravings in check with other vamps who aren't in on the whole "tearing out human throats" thing. There's also a terrific supporting cast, like Wallace Shawn as Stevens' dad who looks askance at his new, awfully pale girlfriend (she storms out of a tanning salon with skin smoking in a funny sight gag) and Malcolm McDowell as an aging S.A regular who turns to knitting to take his mind of his jones for plasma. The movie's biggest achilles' heel are the special effects, which, to put it bluntly...suck. It's obvious this barely-released film had no budget, so jokes that would have had a greater comic pop helmed by someone like Joe Dante or Tim Burton in their primes come across as incredibly underwhelming. Still, the movie has its moments, and the likable, easy-on-the-eyes leads keep you watching.

It don't matter if you're black or (pasty) white...

#73 Blacula (1972): 7/10

#74 Dark Shadows (2012): 8.5/10





Vampires awake in the groovy year of AD 1972 and pursue the reincarnations of their lost loves in this pair of sanguinary sojourns. Blacula opens in Transylvania, 1790, where Prince Mamuwalde (William Marshall) is making a social visit on Count Dracula (Charles Macaulay) along with his wife, Luva (Vonetta McGee). Turns out that Drac is a vampire (who would have thought?), and he chomps down on Mamuwalde's neck before imprisoning him within a sealed coffin inside a hidden chamber in his castle, leaving him to slumber in the dark for an eternity of torment as his wife is left to slowly starve to death within the same sealed trap. Nearly two centuries later, a pair of interior decorators buy Drac's castle and all of the knickknacks within, transporting his coffin back to Los Angeles, where Mamuwalde escapes from his eternity in the dark and terrorizes the night as "Dracula's soul brother" even as he romantically pursues a young woman, Tina Williams (McGee again), who's the spitting image of his lost love.

This is an irresistible premise for a blacksploitation movie, and yet Blacula, for all its indifferent, cobbled-together production values, nevertheless generates a solid sense of dread, and Marshall is marvelous as Mamuwalde, his smooth, basso voice lending a potentially silly character a genuine sense of doomed romantic pathos. And he cuts a striking figure in his Bela Lugosi cloak. You can't really call this "great", but it goes down easy, giving the viewer plenty of cheesy chills.

Having a virtually identical premise, Tim Burton's Dark Shadows (loosely adapted from the early-70s TV supernatural soap opera created by Dan Curtis) picks up in 1760, where the Collins clan travels from Liverpool, England to the untamed wilds of Maine in the New World, where they establish a new town, Collisport, and spend over fifteen years putting down roots in their luxe mansion, Collinwood. But Barnabas Collins (Johnny Depp), after spurning the amorous advances of witchy servant girl Angelique (Eva Green) in favor of the affections of Josette (Bella Heathcote), finds out that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, as Angelique uses her dark magic to bring about the "accidental" death of his parents, goads Josette to plunge off a nearby cliff in a hypnotic trance, and curses Barnabas to become a vampire so that "My torment will be never-ending". Whipping the locals into a obligatory Angry Mob, they bury Barnabas in a sealed coffin, but he's dug up by a construction crew in 1972, and makes his way home to Collinwood to discovers the last remnants of the family bloodline, including Elizabeth Collins (Michelle Pfeiffer), her sullen, rebellious daughter, Carolyn (Chloe Grace Moretz, doing a droll dry run for her role as Wednesday in the Addams Family animated movies), her gold-digging brother Roger (Jonny Lee Miller), Roger's troubled son David (Gully McGrath), as well as employees like psychologist Dr. Hoffman (Helena Bonham Carter), working with young David to help him adjust after the recent loss of his mother at sea, and drunkard handyman Willie Loomis (Jackie Earle Haley). There's also the new governess, Victoria Winters (Heathcote again), who is -- of course -- the virtual reincarnation of Josette. Barnabas is enchanted by Victoria's beauty (wooing her with courtly/corny lines like, "Don't tell you go by something as common as 'Vicky'. A name like Victoria is so beautiful...I would not want to part with a single syllable of it"), as well as determined to restore the family to the state of luxurious wealth and good standing it possessed nearly two centuries earlier, but finds his plans thwarted by "Angie" Bouchard, who is the ageless Angelique who has enjoyed seeing the Collins clan wither away yet finds her ardent attraction to Barnabas has not cooled off despite their complicated history.

A box office fizzle that met mixed reviews when originally released over a dozen years ago, Dark Shadows has, over the course of time, established itself as one of Burton's best post-2010 efforts, with an enjoyably droll, deadpan tone that grows on you with subsequent viewings. Depp is terrific as Barnabas, a decidedly "old-school" gentleman who couldn't be more out of place in the era of lava lamps, miniskirts and Superfly, yet it's that very aspect of his character that drives the movie's fish-out-of-water humor, with Depp taking lines that, on the page, would come across as cloddish groaners and delivering them like Shakespearean sonnets (like his grandiloquent deliveries of the "best" line from Erich Segal's novel Love Story, or the lyrics from the Steve Miller Band song "The Joker"). Green matches him beat-for-beat as Angelique/Angie, her fierce, popping eyes and rapacious leer of a smile creating a villain that's every bit as sexy as she is menacing (her room-demolishing, gravity-defying tryst with Barnabas, set to the beat of Barry White's "You're The First, The Last, My Everything", is a comic highlight). The movie also looks and sounds great, with its craftily cultivated collection of 70's tunes making a great match to Danny Elfman's surging, muscular musical score. The supporting cast gets a bit lost in the shuffle of Seth Grahame-Smith and John August's overstuffed screenplay at times (I could have done with more romantic interludes with Barnabas and Victoria), but the movie has the ghoulish, surreal spark of Burton's early work, and only gets more enjoyable with each viewing.

Bits and pieces...

#75 From A Whisper To A Scream (1987): 3/10

#76 Deadtime Stories (1986): 6/10





A pair of 80s anthology features, with From A Whisper To A Scream concerning a journalist, Beth Chandler (Susan Tyrrell) interviewing a small-town historian, Julian White (Vincent Price), who relates a quartet of macabre stories revolving around the history of the town of Oldfield, Tennessee following the execution of White's niece. They're a soggy bunch of obvious spookers, revolving around such obvious subjects as sinister carnivals and a group of Civil War soldiers getting the Children Of The Corn treatment at a remote, burned out homestead, and the movie has no visual style whatsoever to distinguish itself from dozens of its ilk (plus, at 100 minutes, it goes on forever). Pretty blah. Deadtime Stories is far from great, but it's an appreciable upgrade, as Uncle Mike (Michael Mesmer), trying to make nephew Brian (Brian DePersia) just go to sleep already, runs out of the usual bedtime staples and invents three inappropriately gory tales off the top of his head, involving witches, a modernized riff on Little Red Riding Hood, and a tale of the Three "Baers" and "Goldi Lox" that's full of goofy asides. This is not an especially noteworthy anthology effort, but it has its charms, some good makeup effects and at least has the smarts to get things done in under 85 minutes.

#77 Man's Best Friend (1993): 7.5/10

#78 Monkey Shines: An Experiment In Fear (1988): 8.5/10





Experimental animals run amok in domesticated settings in this pair of furry outings. Man's Best Friend stars Ally Sheedy as Lori Tanner, investigative reporter looking into accusations of animal cruelty at EMAX, which is run by the brilliant but unstable Dr. Jarrett (horror and sci-fi vet Lance Henriksen), who has utilized DNA plucked from some of the most dangerous and cunning creatures in the animal kingdom and created "Max", a Tibetan Mastiff with wiggy blonde eyebrows, a fierce bark and a bite that's worse than it. Lori is immediately smitten by Max's plight, breaks him out from captivity and takes him home, much to to consternation of her dickish boyfriend Perry (Fredric Lehne), whom the protective Max immediately takes less than a shine to. But, now cut off from the injections that keep him placid, Max is developing an increasing bloodlust, and his enhanced intelligence, power and abilities (he can climb trees with the ease of a panther, which leads to an amusingly violent end for a local kitty, as well as disguise himself like a chameleon, as well as micturition that's corrosive as battery acid) makes him into a formidable fusion of Cujo and the Terminator as he turns on Lori and anyone else that gets in his way.

Scripted and directed by John Lafia (Child's Play 2), Man's Best Friend is silly at its core, but has a knowing sense of its own absurdities, and this slick, good-looking production (efficiently scored by Joel Goldsmith) generates as many laughs as thrills (the, uhhhh, "climax" of Max's romantic interlude with a local canine cutie generates the biggest howl). Sheedy makes for an appealing protagonist, while Henriksen attacks his stock Mad Scientist role with his customary terse conviction, and the animal action is extremely well-choreographed, with the handful of pooches that portray Max being alternately endearing and threatening as the movie proceeds from heartwarming to blood-freezing. Good fun.

Monkey Shines (given the subtitle An Experiment In Fear to make it sound less silly to audiences, one supposes), concerns Allan Mann (Jason Beghe), a young man who's in the prime of life and seems to have it all...an athletic build, a burgeoning career in law and a gorgeous girlfriend, Linda (luscious Janine Turner). But it all comes to a crashing halt when, during a morning run, he's struck by a van, leaving him paralyzed from the neck down. Facing life as a quadriplegic, he despairs, even attempting suicide, leading his friend, research scientist Geoffrey Fisher (John Pankow), to suggest a radical idea. He brings one of his research monkeys, a bright, adorable capuchin named "Ella" (played, winningly, by "Boo"), to live with Allan, and with the assistance of Melanie Parker (Kate McNeil), who works at training monkeys to help take care of paralyzed patients, they soon condition Ella to manage household tasks like fetching law books for Allan, brush his hair, answer the phone, and keep the floors and windows looking spic & span. Allan is beguiled by his new housemate ("She's like a miniature person!"), but it seems that Geoffrey was not very forthright in revealing in the experimental injections of human train tissue he's been giving Ella to increase her intelligence. Soon she and Allan begin experiencing an odd mental transfusion, Allan being able to "see" through Ella's eyes and having his thoughts being transferred to Ella, which causes her wee little primate to act out his most unsavory desires and thoughts (like the ones he feels towards the doctor -- played by Stanley Tucci -- who not only potentially botched the surgery that left him confined to his hated wheelchair but also has stolen his unfaithful girl), leading to a spree of death.

Directed by George A. Romero (adapting Michael Stewart's novel), Monkey Shines generates a good deal of suspense from the confined nature of Allan's existence and the helplessness he feels is coming to grips with Ella's possessive nature, not knowing quite how much of her murderous tendencies are hers alone, and how much have been flooding into her remarkable brain from his own consciousness. Unlike most of his films, which label on the enthusiastic gore, Monkey Shines is a movie that's restrained in terms of overt violence, and Romero does a great job in setting the parameters of Allan's world so that, when things start going off the rails, we know exactly how much power he possesses, or doesn't, to defend himself. And the animal action throughout is exceptional, Boo's expressive face making Ella into a natural ham as she acts out routines that must have been excessively difficult to capture on camera, but you appreciate more knowing that, today, Ella would be almost certainly computer generated for most if not all of the movie. Set to an excellent David Shire score, Monkey Shines was a box office misfire in its day, yet remains one of Romero's most satisfying films outside of his most famous zombie franchise.

The Mummy (1932) (6/10)

Somehow I stumbled into adulthood having never seen this movie. And it is astonishing to consider this movie will literally be a century old within a few years.

Still, I don't think it has dated well. I guess I was expecting something a little more like Frankenstein, with more exterior locations, striking photography and sets, and, well, more action. The Mummy is comparatively static, and essentially a filmed stage play. It isn't a very kinetic film, and despite it's hour and fifteen minutes, it gets tedious. Boris Karloff has the "creep factor" in spades though, and this movie would probably be unwatchable with anyone else in the role.

#79 Don't Move (2024): 8/10



Canny suspense potboiler about a young woman named Iris (Kelsey Asbille) -- still despondent about the loss of her young son -- who takes a hike out to the remote cliffside encampment where she's built a memorial, intending to take the same plunge over the edge her boy did. But she's talked out of it by a handsome, caring stranger, Richard (Finn Wittrock), who walks her back to her car in the park's lot...right before tazing her, wrapping her wrists and ankles tight with zipties, and driving her off, with his remote cabin in the woods as her final (and I mean Final) destination. But the resourceful Iris uses her handy Swiss Army Knife to free herself and induce a crash during a struggle, escaping into the woods, only to find her fine motor skills begin to slowly but inexorably deteriorate. Seems that Richard gave her a shot of muscle relaxant before binding her up and busting her into his car, and she's tasked with keeping one step ahead of her pursuer as her body starts shutting down piece by piece.

Produced by Sam Raimi (with this and Don't Breathe, you wonder how he's gonna cap the trilogy...Don't Talk?), Don't Move plays out like one of those tight, effective short stories Stephen King used to churn out in the 1970s and 80s, and directors Adam Schindler and Brian Netto manage to wring a great deal of tension of how Richard tries desperately to net his prey, reel her back in, and efficiently dispose of her despite a string of plot diversions (like a kindly old man who finds a paralyzed Iris sprawled in his front yard and attempts to help with violent consequences, as well as a terse roadside confrontation with a suspicious police officer that's worthy of Hitchcock). And despite spending a large portion of her screentime only able to communicate with her eyes, Asbille delivers a convincing, emphatic performance, as she tries desperately to communicate her plight to would-be rescuers (like during a convenience store stop to gas up a stolen pickup truck) and improvise an escape from her predicament. This is the kind of slick, Meat & Potatoes thriller that used to be as common as pigeons back in the 80s and 90s, the ones that would never get the big advertising dollars but you'd take a chance on in theaters (or stumble across it on cable months or years later), and find an unexpectedly assured piece of filmmaking.

"This is my happening, baby, and it freaks me out, yeah...!"

#80 Last Night In Soho (2021): 10/10



Stunning psychological thriller about a demure young woman, Eloise ("Ellie" as she likes to go by, played by Thomas McKenzie), who travels to London to start a career as a fashion designer. She grew up on stories of the city from her mother (taken at a young age due to mental illness) and her Gran, who gave her a passion for the swingin' 60s -- the fashions, music, and overall vibe of the era. She takes a room from a kindly old lady (Diana Rigg, her her final film role), and settles in happily as she starts off on living her dreams...but in her actual dreams, she's literally transported back to the glory days of Go-Go boots and Sean Connery 007 movies, where she inhabits the life of Sandy (Anya Taylor-Joy), a young woman who's starting off on her own career ambitions of becoming a coveted singer and actress. In her waking hours, inspired by these spectacularly vivid dreams, Ellie dyes and styles her mousy brown hair into a facsimile of Sandy's blonde, beehive bouffant (shades of Vertigo) and starts designing clothing with a strong 60s style, but the dreams grow increasingly disturbing and fragmented, as she witnesses Sandy's descent into prostitution and degradation at the hands of her "manager" Jack (Matt Smith) and Ellie starts to experience vivid hallucinations of faceless, grasping figures following her into her waking hours. What did happen to Sandy (if, indeed, she actually existed and is not a concoction of Ellie's increasingly unsettled mind) back in the mid-60s, and can Ellie suss it out before she begins to lose her tether to reality?

Directed by the extravagantly gifted Edgar Wright (who co-wrote it with Krysty Wilson-Cairns), Last Night In Soho is like one of those surreal mind-f#ck pressure-cookers that Roman Polanski specialized in back in the 60s and 70s, and cinematographer Chung-hoon Chung bathes the images in a lurid set of vivid primaries that evokes vintage Dario Argento. The two lead actresses are both superb, with McKenzie superbly charting her character's devolvement from enthusiastic country mouse to freaked-out headcase, and Taylor-Joy changing from luminous vision to drugged-out victim. The movie is brilliantly visualized throughout, and the soundtrack -- full of choice 60s cuts that adroitly avoid the Usual Suspects of the decade and give the images and narrative an infectiously thumping backseat -- keeps the viewer in a pleasurable sense of dazed suspense, as the movie meticulously unfolds its dual storylines in the past and present until they collide in a bravura finale. Soho didn't find many takers in theaters (due to being released in the waning days of the Pandemic and due to a confused advertising campaign that didn't sell it very effectively), but it's one of Wright's absolute best features, and deserves to cultivate a devoted cult following in the years to come.

The Ninth Gate (6.5/10)

This 1999 Roman Polanski effort comes off as a less-stylish (and much-less atmospheric) retread of Angel Heart, with a bit of Eyes Wide Shut at its climax -- as well elements of Polanski's own Frantic. For most of its running time The Ninth Gate was a captivating yarn that held my interest, but it lost a good point or two with its "ambiguous" ending. Too many loose ends spoil the film -- like who / what was Emmanuelle Seigner's character supposed to be? The final scene is also dissatisfyingly vague, and leaves you hanging. The premise of the film also gives one the expectation of a supernatural horror movie, but the actual story is more of a gumshoe thriller.

Wojciech Kilar's score is well-written but often sounds like it was written for a completely different film (and genre!).

Paul MacLean wrote: ↑Sat Oct 26, 2024 11:20 am The Mummy (1932) (6/10)

Somehow I stumbled into adulthood having never seen this movie. And it is astonishing to consider this movie will literally be a century old within a few years.

Still, I don't think it has dated well. I guess I was expecting something a little more like Frankenstein, with more exterior locations, striking photography and sets, and, well, more action. The Mummy is comparatively static, and essentially a filmed stage play. It isn't a very kinetic film, and despite it's hour and fifteen minutes, it gets tedious. Boris Karloff has the "creep factor" in spades though, and this movie would probably be unwatchable with anyone else in the role.

THE MUMMY is pretty static, though arguably not as static as FRANKENSTEIN or DRACULA by comparison -- all of which (especially the latter!) are pretty creaky. I found it had some effective shots but as a whole the MUMMY was just a dated curio. (The sequels were produced mostly later on and are pretty fun B-pictures with a quasi-continuing story line).

Of those very early Universal Monsters, THE INVISIBLE MAN is probably the best of the early '30s lot. DRACULA's first 15 minutes are legendary but the rest of it is just a stage play (and a tedious one at that). FRANKENSTEIN holds up fairly well but the lack of a music score makes it a bit of a slog too.

It's just amazing how things changed by the time you hit 1935 and THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN comes out, which is outstanding and benefits so much from Franz Waxman's score and innovations in technique and FX even in the short time between that and its predecessor.

#81 We Summon The Darkness (2020): 7.5/10



A trio of sexy besties, Alexis, Beverly and Val (played by Alexandra Daddario, Amy Forsyth and Maddie Hanson), head off to an Indiana rock concert circa the summer of 1988, when they Meet Cute with a trio of rock enthusiasts, Mark, Ivan and Kovacs (Keean Johnson, Austin Swift and Logan Miller) when they toss a chocolate milkshake onto their windshield on the road (they reciprocate by tossing a lit string of firecrackers into their van). After the show, the girls invite the guys back to Alexis' rather luxe House for afterparty beers and possibly more, but after getting roofied, the guys wake up taped to chairs in the skivvies, the girls revealing themselves as devout churchfolk who want to murder the three and pass off the killings as the work of a Satanic cult, thus increasing the power of Alexis' preacher daddy (Johnny Knoxville). But things spiral wildly out of control as the girls' plans keep getting foiled at every juncture, leading to chaotically bloody consequences.

A mixture of horror and humor, We Summon The Darkness (which was barely released in 2020) offers up great, sinister chemistry between its three easy-on-the-eyes leading ladies as they bicker and plot how to put down the more-resourceful-than-they-look guys, and the movie generates as many chuckles as chills as it rolls along.

#82 The Spell (1977): 4/10



An overweight young girl named Rita Matchett (Susan Myers) is relentlessly ostracized by her high school peers, much to the dismay of her parents (Lee Grant & James Olsen) and younger sister (Helen Hunt, in one of her earliest acting credits), but she secretly utilizes dark magic to strike out at her tormentors and make them pay. Quickie made-for-TV knockoff of Carrie (which screenwriter Brian Taggert claims he wrote even before the publication of King's novel, yet this aring barely three months after De Palma's film is awfully sus...there's even a scene with Matchett awkwardly playing volleyball!) is reasonably well-acted, yet has no discernable style to it, and even at a scant 73 minutes seemed padded to reach an obvious conclusion.

BEETLEJUICE (1988)
7/10



Theo's been watching the TV cartoon version that followed Tim Burton's 1988 hit, which I hadn't sat down and watched in a long while. It was pretty much as I remembered: short and fragmented, with a pretty weak narrative. The individual gags (the Day-O dinner bit), some of which are funny, pretty much are the whole show along with the FX work and Danny Elfman's terrific score, which is one of the best from his "golden age".

Yet, overall, the movie nearly plays like a pilot episode of a series -- taking far too long to set all the players in motion and then ending not long after the film starts to get interesting. For a 90 minute movie, there are also far too many characters -- for example, the movie could've jettisoned Alec Baldwin's top-billed lead (does anyone ever remember he was in this film?) and tied Geena Davis' ghostly mom-wannabe more closely with the young Winona Ryder character, Lydia, who lost her own mother (a basically undeveloped plot element that was substantially used in the later Broadway musicalization).

Michael Keaton's lead ghostly ghostcleanser always gets the most hype when talking about this movie but he's really not that funny, nor is he in the movie enough. Overall, "Beetlejuice" is one of those "beloved" cult films that was never that great to begin with, but is at least pleasant and still has its moments (plus odd casting like Robert Goulet and Dick Cavett!).

"The Pickety Witch, the Pickety Witch...who's got a kiss for the Pickety Witch...?"

#83 Sleepy Hollow (1999): 9/10



Ichabod Crane (Johnny Depp), is a New York police constable who, circa 1799, is tasked to travel to the remote township of Sleepy Hollow, where a series of murders have occured, all with the connecting motif of the heads being severed from the bodies ("Clean as dandelion heads, apparently" remarks the pious judge who sends him on his way, played in a robust cameo by Christopher Lee). Making the lengthy journey, Ichabod is delivered to the home of Baltus Van Tassel (Michael Gambon), a prosperous landowner whose daughter, Katrina (a breathtaking Christina Ricci) immediately takes a shine to her wayward houseguest, much to the consternation of her beau, Braum Van Brunt (Casper Van Dien). Utilizing "up-to-date scientific techniques", Ichabod resolves to pierce the veil of superstitious dread hovering over the town and reveal the killer to be a man of flesh and blood, but soon comes to the realization it's a more supernatural threat at hand, a Hessian mercenary (played by an uncredited Christopher Walken, his only dialogue guttaral variations of "RAAAHHHH! RAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHH...!!!!") who was beheaded twenty years earlier and now haunts the surrounding woods as an avenging specter, lopping off heads until his own noggin is restored to him. Terrified beyond mortal comprehension, Ichabod nevertheless must steel himself to fight off an immortal for even as he digs into the town's history to ferret out a dire conspiracy.

Loosely adapted from the Washington Irving story by screenwriters Kevin Yager and Andrew Kevin Walker (with additional, uncredited "poetic" dialogue polishes by Tom Stoppard), Sleepy Hollow remains one of director Tim Burton's best and most satisfying films, brimming with his brand of ghoulishly witty asides and spectacular visuals courtesy of production designer Rick Heinrichs (who copped an Oscar for his work) and cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki (who was nominated). Set to Danny Elfman's superb score (one of his best), the movie is a marvel of atmospheric delights, boasting a superb cast of both Burton regulars and distinguished/eccentric Brit character performers. Depp and Ricci make for an attractive pair of romantic leads, with Depp playing up Ichabod's Nervous Nellie affectations with his customary comic aplomb (there are few actors who have greater control of their precise facial tics than Depp, especially when Burton's behind the camera). And despite the film's spurts of R-rated gore, it never tips over into gratuitous excess, retaining a light comic touch even amongst the gruesomeness. Great fun.

#84 The Autopsy Of Jane Doe (2016): 8/10



Coroner Tommy Tilden (Brian Cox) and his son/assistant Austin (Emile Hirsch) one night get handed a doozy of a new customer, the body of an unidentified Jane Doe (Olwen Kelly, doing the best deadpan cadaver acting since Terry Kiser) who was discovered buried in the cellar of a crime scene where several victims met bloody deaths. Yet the body that gets wheeled into their morgue is a puzzlement. Despite being buried, her porcelain skin seems utterly unblemished, with no external signs of trauma (aside from broken wrists and ankle bones) and zero rigor mortis. Cutting into her chest to determine the cause of death, father and son find one mystery after another stacked inside, like a tooth wrapped inside a ceremonial scrap of parchment inside her intestine and a bevy of scabbed-over scars in her lungs despite no external puncture wounds that would account for them. Things get steadily more surreal as the power goes out, the other cadavers on ice in their little cubicles start to seem far livelier than when they came in, and the radio starts to send out odd, unsettling messages and song choices.

Directed by Andre Ovredal, The Autopsy Of Jane Doe is a slow burn, but it generates tension as it rolls along with a precise hand, and the audience is left in a state of directionless dread that the movie never quite spells out. Who "Jane Doe" is, or what the oddities found within her body truly signify, is left up to the viewer to determine, and that's to the movie's credit, which is brisk (86 minutes) and attains a clammy creepiness.