L.P. Ring's Blog

I’ve made it to a dozen stories published these past two years with ‘Deeper than The Grave’ appearing in Shotgun Honey. Here then are links to the stories. Maybe some of them will end up in a collection one day? Who knows

Deeper than the Grave – Published in Shotgun Honey, August 2023

Deeper Than the Grave by L.P. Ring

Casper – Published in Schlock!, August 2023

https://www.schlock.co.uk/pb/wp_341174c3/wp_341174c3.html

New Borns – Published in Punk Noir, July 2023

New Borns by L.P. Ring

Mother – Published in Black Sheep, July 2023

Hark! The Whispers of Those Uneasy Dead – Published in Creepy Pod, March 2023

Greg: Not a People Person – Published in Mythaxis Magazine, Spring 2023

https://mythaxis.co.uk/issue-33/greg-not-a-people-person.html

Destination Akeldama – Published in Fleas on the Dog, February 2023

https://fleasonthedog.com/ Issue 13 Fiction

Homecoming – Published in Tales From The Ruins, February 2023

On a Quiet Road One Winter’s Night – Published in Rural Tales Magazine, January 2023

“On A Quiet Road One Winter’s Night” Dark Fiction by L.P. Ring

Jack Sensei – Published in Kaidankai, November 2022

https://www.kaidankaistories.com/november-2022

Dog Walker – Published in The Bombay Literary Magazine, August 2022

The Dog Walker

Chalk Dust – Published in This is Too Tense, July 2022

That Girl in Tijuana – Published in Close 2 the Bone, December 2021

That Girl in Tijuana

The end of the world has always been a topic diligently mined by the religious, the political, and the creative. John of Patmos wrote about four horsemen, Norse literature had Ragnarok. H.G. Wells thought it might come from beyond the stars, Stephen King from a world-wide pandemic. The 21st Century has seen no downturn in such fascination with Cormac McCarthy, Emily St. John Mandel, and plenty others putting pen to paper to take about what happens to what is left. ‘Tales From the Ruins’ brings together 14 tales of urban, rural, and psychological decay for you to while away your evenings once you’ve tired of seeing how the end of the world plays out on the news or Netflix.

Brittany-based Black Beacon Books have brought anthologies based on Hitchcock, Apocalyptic fiction, and mysteries in the past and will soon be bringing anthologies of Ghost stories and Horror to bookstore shelves. Writers including Joseph S. Walker, Malcolm Timberley (his ‘Help, Scotland’ was my personal favorite) and Black Beacon’s own Cameron Trost offer their different takes on searches for a new home, conflicting tribes, and hope. There are also tales which reflect present day concerns. What will happen to the less fortunate or the at risk among us? Will an apocalypse only trigger humanity’s worse impulses? Thoughtful pieces by Karen Bayly and Adam Breckenbridge offer thoughts on those. There’s action and teenage kicks too courtesy of Kurt Newton’s Chasing the White Limousine. The less said about my effort ‘Homecoming’ the better – I shouldn’t appear biased

Featuring a range of stories and styles, Black Beacon are a publisher to look out for if you want a good read. And especially if you are a writer who wants to work with a committed and dedicated team. Tales From the Ruins will not be their only release this year. Check out https://blackbeaconbooks.blogspot.com/ for updates, interviews, and more.

Tales From the Ruins is available on Amazon, Kinokuniya and a range of other outlets.

The evil Hogwarts House and bogey ‘What Harry Potter House personality are you?’ answer to countless online quizzes of yesteryear is generally where all the bad eggs went in the seven Potter books. So how did they get there?

I remember years ago a history teacher talking about John Calvin and the idea of predestination. Essentially, the idea as he saw it was that God decided at birth who would be saved and who would be damned. It didn’t matter whether the person lived a good life from there or – and I think this is the example my teacher used – robbed a bank. They were screwed anyway. I didn’t say anything even though there was something about the explanation and example that jarred with me. I felt that the essence of predestination had been missed, that God knew this person was going to ‘rob the bank’ was surely the issue there. It spoke to an absence of free will and our lives being predetermined, not of any pre-judgement without considering all the evidence.

Just like some scholars conceptualise Judas – saying that he was always going to betray Jesus and therefore was not necessarily punished in the afterlife. Judas had to betray Jesus. Otherwise, there couldn’t be a crucifixion, Jesus couldn’t die for our sins, and couldn’t rise from the dead, greatest story ever told.

As an aside note, there also mightn’t have been two thousand years of antisemitism and counting. Although I’m sure people would have come up with something, people being what they are. But I can see I’ve digressed already and wow is that the time…

So what does this have to do with Slytherin. Now JK Rowling isn’t the flavor of the month she once was and people will often utilise elements of her character, speech, or creations in online debate. I was attracted to a recent tweet where an author I follow did pretty much what I feel my history teacher did.

Sorting hat: You’re with Slytherin.

Child: I don’t want to be.

Hat: Tough titty, you’re evil now.

Child: Awwww…

But again, this isn’t the point of the Sorting Hat. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and the others are there because the hat can detect their character and places them accordingly. It isn’t trying to strong arm kids into being evil – and kids can be evil all the time thanks to naivety, an under-developed prefrontal cortex, and just being little shits. It isn’t even saying that kids can be evil and then come around to being better, more well-rounded people (here I wonder if some of the horrors I went to school in Ireland with grew up to be pleasant members of society). This is a form of predestination-lite. The Hat knows what you have an affinity for, knows what you’ll probably be like. It isn’t damning Malfoy or Goyle any more than it would put my well-meaning and kind history teacher in jail for not robbing that bank. Slytherin graduates can still become better people. They don’t need to become Conservative politicians, Daily Mail contributors, or … you know.

The Sorting Hat isn’t a “demon”.

JK Rowling isn’t a “nincompoop”. At least not for this.

I’ve been thinking recently of wrecking balls. Not the Miley Cyrus varieties necessarily, though there’s certainly the possibilities for different interpretations – just ask the musician Billy Bragg for his darker interpretation of Britney Spears’ ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time’. But no, I’m thinking of entities that will not stop, will not give in, until an adversary is annihilated. I’m thinking Putin’s Russia. I’m thinking plenty of Stephen King’s antagonists.

Because there are times when this can be seen as a positive, at least initially. The idea of hunting a nemesis down has been lionized in popular culture, adhered to in war and politics. It shows determination, an unwillingness to yield. In and of itself, it’s something that might well be laudible.

But what about when that purposefulness is wielded for the wrong reasons? I’m thinking like the husband Norman in King’s ‘Rose Madder’. Jim Dooley in ‘Lisey’s Story’. The antagonist in my present King read ‘The Outsider’ could walk away, could seek shelter against the band of warriors forming to wage battle. But that’s not what’s going to happen. And that’s not just because it wouldn’t be much of a story if such an antagonist turned tail. These antagonists won’t. Because they think they’re right. And how dare anyone ever tell them what to do or what they can’t have.

We may well be be unlucky enough to encounter a diluted form of this form of malignancy in our lives: through work, some aspect of our personal lives or, heaven forfend, in a family situation. We may be unlucky enough for them to set their sights on us. The Norman Daniels and Jim Dooleys of this world are very real. They don’t care. They won’t stop. There’s a little voice inside them that says they’re right, everyone else is wrong, and how fucking dare anyone mess with me. If we do end up here, we have the choice between running away and facing them. And if so, we better hope that there’s a Holly Gibney or a Dorcas around to help us. Because too often, and to be fair quite understandably, not many people want to tangle with someone (or something) like that.

Being Irish, many of my first encounters with story-telling was through traditional myth – Setanta and the hound; that boy’s growth and life as the warrior Cu Chulainn; the King Conor MacNessa; Fionn, Oisin and the Fianna. These tales were often told in primary school, where teachers would link them to our everyday lives as appropriate. Setanta was good at hurling which we all had to play. The King Conor MacNessa had a vision of the death of Christ – this was a story told in particular in the run up to Easter. Fionn tricked a Scottish giant and that’s how we ended up with the Giant’s Causeway in Antrim – important to know landmarks around the country. Oisin returned from Tir Na Nog (the Land of Youth) and accidentally broke a promise even though he meant well – to be honest I’ve scratched my head over what lesson that had to impart (the dangers of going off with girls we barely knew maybe, or perhaps the dangers of not maintaining your horse’s saddle?).

It was later that I got to read these tales more deeply. That’s for example when I learnt about the love triangle between an ageing Fionn, his new young wife Grainne, and the warrior Diarmuid. They didn’t tell us that one in school as far as I can remember. It was probably a little too racey for 1980’s, still staunchly Catholic Ireland. And how exactly was Mrs Molloy going to explain what a ‘love spot’ was to a bunch of 10-year olds?

Given that presence of myth in my childhood, the Lost Boys Press anthology ‘Heroes’ was always going to interest me. These stories seek to take traditional myths from across the world and recast them for more modern retellings. Cyberpunk cities, elements of sci-fi and horror, World War 2-style weaponry and battles. ‘Heroes’ promises to tell you stories that you know – ‘but not told like these’. And, unlike Robin Hood films with Taron Egerton and Jamie Fox, that promise holds true.

I really grew into this collection and loved the reimaginings of myths I knew about before reading. This was particularly true with the inventiveness surrounding the Arthurian legend (Dewi Hargreaves) and Medusa (Jaecyn Boné). The retelling of Beowulf by Michael J. Mullan II brought us into battle against power-crazed Nazis – and could easily be expanded to a larger format. The Joan of Arc story (R. Raeta) was deeply affecting. I found myself nodding along as I read, hoping that such voices as this Joan could be heard above the cacophony of media lapdogs and dog-whistling that occurs nowadays.

Finally, many of the stories played with the relationships differently – the Cu Chullainn story by Laura Jayne McLaughlin and Madeline Dau’s Perseus tale are two stories which take well-known relationships and offer a different slant on them, adding further nuance to the tales. As society and culture evolves, there is also an opportunity to recast tales so audiences familiar with the original works can be shown new possibilities within these texts. The idea of what ‘might have been’ or ‘might still be’ can help us grow as people.

Those familiar with the originals will no doubt appreciate the mechanics and thought that went into the retelling. I also think readers will enjoy coming across new stories featuring new heroes. There’s a freshness of approach here that will not only entertain but will also introduce new cultural touchstones in exciting ways. Myths and legends after all often work to crystallize the cultures from which they emerge; they seek to teach and explain, to open a window to generations seeking to understand the land and peoples from which they have come. I don’t play hurling anymore. I’ve never even been to the Giant’s Causeway. But Setanta, Fionn and Oisin have stayed in my memory across thousands of miles of road, sea, and sky. In my travels, I’ve learned of other heroes too, tales which possess similarities and differences to my own. I can learn from both.

The ‘Heroes’ Anthology edited by Ashley Hutchinson can be bought through Amazon at https://amzn.to/3DAG5A7

Some spoilers ahead though I’ve tried to be good

Kenneth Branagh directs and performs with aplomb, but in trying to hermetically seal this Christie caper, he’s ended up with a decidedly stretched and creaky adaptation.

The decision to remake some of Dame Agatha Christie’s more famous works – with Kenneth Branagh both in front and behind the camera – caused quite a lot of excitement among Christie fans, with ‘Murder on the Orient Express’ (2017) being a modest hit despite the novel’s occasional staginess and one prominent cast member’s significant brush with the #MeToo movement and dressing down in the British libel courts. One pandemic and five years later and Branagh’s iteration of Poirot is back, now with an explanation for that rather outlandish mustache and a backstory that helps to explain some of the references in Christie’s novels to her detective’s horticultural interests. It’s an interesting addition, and if his backstory doesn’t quite have the strength of John Malkovich’s iteration of Poirot – ‘The ABC Murders’, it does set us up for one quite funny scene – these Christie adaptations are happy to indulge in some humour – and a clue to where Branagh’s adaptive skills may be pointed next.

There’s certainly plenty to like here. The scenery is often beautiful and aside from a few poor efforts with green screen, the whole thing looks lovely. There are also some fine set pieces, strong comic asides, and an added depth to key character Linnet Doyle/Ridgeway that makes this a far finer iteration of her than I’ve seen on screen or in the text. Props go to writer Michael Green and actress Gal Gadot for that. The cast are generally solid with particular praise for Branagh himself and Russell Brand who delivers a sombre and mannered performance as a spurned lover.

A lot of the joy in a Christie can be found in there being a set of possible suspects so that the reader/viewer can play along with the fun. That potential staginess – a staple feature of the Golden Age of Crime – survives where a geographical impediment aids belief that no outsiders could be involved. ‘Orient Express’ has its Russian snow, ‘And Then There Were None’ has its island during a brutal storm. ‘Death on the Nile’ has well… its ship. On the Nile. And while this may not be the most sealed of environments, Christie was able to an extent carry this through successfully by having it be a cruise of well-to-do people who wouldn’t need to deal with the riff-raff bar those below decks (and even then, an early suspect in Christie’s book is exactly that). Returning ‘Orient Express’ scribe Michael Green has dispensed with this possibility of an outside party completely, explaining the enclosed nature of the tour by making it an exclusive wedding party cruise. This creates a logistical awkwardness from early doors, meaning that certain scenes later on have to be altered in order to suit the set-up.

Further, he’s removed/subsumed two characters – thereby reducing a suspect list that the wedding party format seemed designed to bolster. There’s also now no evidence of the Egyptian police – odd considering the growing body count – meaning Poirot stalks the ship searching rooms and badgering passengers. Christie’s original design – including having some passengers who were unconnected to the victim – allowed for police presence in the figure of Colonel Race. This built an authenticity to proceedings now absent and created a more effective foil for Poirot to work alongside. Instead he’s given the returning Tom Bateman’s Bouc, who does well but can’t quite fit into a narrative that requires him to be both sidekick and – as part of the wedding party – suspect.

Branagh has created an interesting, stylish film that, despite more broad-shouldered shaped #MeToo problems, will probably do reasonably well at the box office. It’s already made its budget back and will probably do more business before its move to Video on Demand and an audience more comfortable watching at home (and in some cases, more suited to watching Christie adaptations from the comfort of their sofas on a lazy Sunday evening). There is probably enough once the numbers have been totalled for him to get another adaptation – although mooted plans for a ‘Christie Universe’ may prove a stretch.

As a fan, I’d like to see him adapt ‘The Murder of Roger Ackroyd’, and I thought I saw enough hints in this film to think that’s where he will go. But he and Green will need to work better to overcome what they see as Christie’s weaknesses without painting themselves into the corner they have this time. The Golden Age of Crime-style narratives certainly have an appeal in the 21st Century as evidenced by the success of ‘Knives Out’, but the right kind of inventiveness will be needed if one form of plot implausibility isn’t simply to be replaced with contrivances.

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It isn’t just movies and TV that can offer a few chills this October 31st. Well before Mary Shelley and friends sat around a fire telling spooky tales, people were terrorising each other with tales of the unknown both internal and external. I’ve thought about some of my favorites from the past 12 months or so – some reads, some re-reads, for the coming season. This is just in case you’ve watched Midnight Mass and Candyman and are being tempted by Halloween: Resurrection or Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason takes Manhattan (again). There’s plenty of creepy reading out there, too.

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson: Shy Eleanor Vance is escaping from a domineering mother and a pair of siblings all too happy to sacrifice their sister to their matriarch’s caprices. An opportunity to take part in an experiment on the supernatural seems a perfect escape route for her, but has Eleanor just swapped one prison for another? Filmed twice (the 1999 version is hilariously awful) and the basis of Mike Flanagan’s 2018 Netflix series, Jackson’s novel is one of the most influential horror novels ever written and a book I take from the shelf every single year.

Pet Sematary by Stephen King: Many refer to It, The Shining or The Stand as King’s greatest work but this family-based horror is the bleakest, most uncomfortable King I’ve ever read. Louis Creed has moved his family to a new town where the work is easier, the neighbors are friendlier, and the only thing that he needs to worry about are the trucks speeding up and down the highway outside his house. Just don’t go too far into the woods behind the house.

The Cipher by Kathe Koja: This tale of misfits and other-worldly portals delves into obsession, body horror and toxic relationships with gusto. Nicolas wants to be a poet but works in a video store. He also wants Nakota, whose crooked grin and taste in friends/hangers-on is going to bring all kinds of trouble. Thirty years old this year, the novel’s potentially not one for the squeamish. Think House of Leaves but at break-neck speed.

Things Have Gotten Worse Since We Last Spoke by Eric La Rocca: This is told in a series of emails and message board posts between two people who have yet to meet face-to-face. It’s pretty creepy from the off and just delves further into the horror from there with manipulation, paranoia, and body horror just some of what’s on the menu. My favorite GoodReads review for it so far is ‘Well. That was really something.’ It really bloody well is.

Ghost River by Chad Ryan: Ryan’s debut is a heady mix of magic realism and horror. The occupants of Ghost River – the living and the dead – are trapped by their ties to the land, their relationships and the forces around them. Often quite epic in scope, the cast of characters and their … ahem quirks… alone were enough to keep me enthralled.

The Ritual by Adam Nevill: A lad’s weekend in the Swedish countryside takes a definitive turn for the worst and fast in this 2011 folk horror. Luke, Hatch and his friends are hoping to get back to nature, re-establishing their college bonds, and say goodbye to a dear friend. What already seems like a poor idea given their ages and ‘quirks’ very quickly becomes much much worse once an accident means they have to try a short-cut through the woods.

Water Shall Refuse Them by Lucie McKnight Hardy: A softer take on the ‘folk horror’ subgenre, Hardy takes us back to 1970s Britain. Recently bereaved teenager Nif is isolated and vulnerable, walking a countryside parched by a heatwave as she seeks talismans to augment her budding interest in witchcraft. Enter local ne’er-do-well Mal, possibly a kindred soul, possibly someone she should stay as far away from as possible. This is a read that slowly winds up the tension, blending coming-of-age fumbling awkwardness with something far, far darker.

The Book of Accidents by Chuck Wendig: Wendig caught the cultural zeitgeist two years ago with his pandemic-based thriller Wanderers and returned in 2021 with this tale of a family -each member with their own specific demon – moving to a new neighborhood for a fresh start. To say much more would be to give the twist away, but it’s definitely worth the read.

The Midwives by Duncan Ralston: True crime hack Martin Savage has upset plenty of the wrong kind of people in his career. Now one of them – the serial killer known as the ‘Witch-hunter’ – has escaped and seems intent on making Martin’s life and the lives of those around him resemble every horror imaginable. It’s time to head for the hills, or in this case the most isolated place that Martin can think of. But what happens when that place is home? And it has plenty horrors of its own?

Penpal by Dathan Auerback: The scariness of childhood has been mined extensively over the years and this novel adds to the trope – including scary woods, odd-behaving neighbours and a friendship that anchors the main character to reality until it can’t. The language is strange, the relationships often stranger – the protagonist’s point of view often means the reader can see things he can’t – and the ending is something that may stay with the reader for a while.

Heart Shaped Box by Joe Hill: Hill has seen a lot of success with adaptations of his work in recent years, but his debut’s claustrophobic, more linear narrative is as creepy as anything in Charlie Manx’s Christmasland. Aging rock star Judas Coyne makes up for not knocking out any more hits by building his collection of rock memorabilia. And it’ll be one of those purchases in particular that will have him battling for his life. At this point, I’m almost convinced that Hill produces better work than his far more illustrious father, and I’m regularly going back to his work.

The Apparition Phase by Will Maclean: With definite nods to Shirley Jackson, this story of sibling relationships and ghostly happenings is set in early 1970s Britain – not a good time or place if this is a fair guide. Tim and Abi are precocious, intellectually snobbish, and generally just too smart for their own good. But when they play a trick on an awkward classmate, the repercussions will last for years to come.

The Haunting of Blackwood House by Darcy Coates: Anyone who likes haunted house stories should read at least one of Darcy Coates’ books. Clanking chains, scratches on the woodwork, and echoing footsteps in the attic are all present and correct.

Blob on the Bayou by William F Aicher: A Pheonix Bones short, Aicher’s regenerating bounty hunter and existentially angsty protagonist sets off down Louisiana way for an adventure with downed planes, mysterious forces and a number of wrecked boats. If it’s a mixture of comedy, horror, and thoughts on meaning and existence that you are after, then Aicher and his protagonist may be the men for you.

The Only Good Indians by Stephen Graham Jones: Four friends on an illegal hunt is the launching pad for this tale of revenge and insanity. With nods to social conditions and toxic masculinity, Graham Jones’ tale is bleak, powerful and creepy in the best possible ways. The author is on a real hot streak at the moment and quickly becoming one of the most successful names in horror fiction.

Rites of Extinction by Matt Serafini: Rebecca Daniels is a woman on a mission, a woman who can never go home. With her family obliterated and suspicions about her actions mounting, her arrival in the sleepy town of Bright Fork may be the final chance she has to take down a killer intent on completing a devastating ritual.

The Terror by Dan Simmons: Lost expeditions have always held a fascination for me and this novel takes the 1845 Sir John Franklin expedition to find the famed North-west passage as its setting for a novel steeped in paranoia, betrayal and the supernatural. Its recent TV adaptation brought me back to it and I wasn’t disappointed.

The Nightmare Room by Chris Sorensen: If you’ve ever wanted to record an audio-book, but are afraid of what horrors you might end up dealing with, this might be for you. Peter Larson and family return to the old homestead for a fresh start away from the rat-race. The house has recently experienced a death. Peter’s going to set up the old basement for his recordings. Enough said.

Carmilla by Sheridan Le Fanu: Twenty years before Bram Stoker brought us Dracula, fellow Dubliner Le Fanu’s Carmilla brought us this tale of vampirism from the casebook of the occult detective Dr. Martin Hesselius. A far shorter tale than Stoker’s novel, Carmilla has in recent years received increased interest from writers such as Carmen Maria Machado. Maybe I’m biased because I did my M.A. on Le Fanu’s work, but I think he’s one of the most interesting novelists of the 19th Century.

That’s my list for the year. If you made it to the end, I hope you’ve got some recommendations. I also hope I’ve missed out on some stuff to read for the next 12 months because there are astonishing writers – Laird Barron, Victor LaValle, Sylvia Moreno Garcia, and Caitlin R. Keirnan among others – who are on my Kindle but who I just haven’t had time to read this year (it’d be nice if I could get paid to just read books). So much to read, so little time. Happy Halloween!

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I’m not sure if any original property has been as damaged over the years as John Carpenter’s Halloween (1978). That original film – taglined ‘The night HE came home’ – was the moment slasher films hit the big time, with the initial tracking shot one of the most unique and exciting openings to a horror film to that date. Carpenter’s taut direction and moody score were game-changers. Even casting seemed serendipitous with the big screen debut of Jamie Lee Curtis – daughter of Janet Leigh – as protagonist Laurie Strode delivering a knowing wink to one of the chief inspirations of the slasher sub-genre, Alfred Hitchcock’s classic Psycho.

That original film brought horror fans so much. It probably cemented the concept of ‘the final girl’ in horror cinema. It offered an iconic villain, a view of small town Americana as a scene for horrors that David Lynch would ably traverse with films like Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks for years to come. It created the concept of the scream-queen lead, gave us an iconic villain whose irresistible force mowed through a group of victims who were more than what film critic Roger Ebert would later label ‘dead teens’. It was, in many ways, damn near perfect. It was also a box-office smash, meaning that direct sequels – even if Carpenter and co-writer/producer Debra Hill weren’t that keen – were a certainty. And so we got Halloween 2 in 1981.

It was initially conceptualised as the beginning of a series – a set of independent productions set around the concept of the Halloween season (or Sam-hain as Donald Pleasance (Dr. Loomis) hilariously mispronounces the Irish term Samhain (it’s pronounced sau-in, Donald)). This move away from baby-sitter stalkers was attempted with Halloween 3: Season of the Witch (1983). In a sign that maybe we get what we deserve, audiences were not happy with the turn. They wanted Michael even if it was the stilted, fire-proof version mowing through ciphers in that 1981 sequel. They got him back in Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers (1988). Then again for number 5. And Number 6. And H20. And Halloween: Resurrection.

Because in creating a juggernaut like Michael Myers (or The Shape as he was originally billed), Carpenter and Hill found themselves stuck with a character that not even terrible directing, shoddy plotting and script writing or Harvey Weinstein could kill. Michael has been burnt alive (Halloween 2), shot numerous times including in the head (too many to count), impaled on farming machinery (Halloween 4 and Halloween H20) and decapitated (H20 again). It has survived time in the house of Weinstein, been rebooted (Rob Zombie’s gritty efforts in 2007 and 2009) and retconned (the new Blumhouse studio film series starting in 2018 starring a returning Jamie Lee Curtis, helmed by David Gordon Green and scripted by, among others, comedian Danny McBride). Even Rob Zombie admitted in publicity for his 2009 film version that Michael should be dead but what are you going to do? The franchise, despite getting more stilted, less interesting, hammier, and terminal to the point of flat-lining has continued to experience new iterations.

The 2018 version attempted a redo, with the sub-plot of Michael and Laurie Strode being brother and sister – added in Halloween 2 in a shonky attempt to add depth to Michael – being dumped. To say the 2018 version was a success ($80 million in its opening week) would be putting it mildly. Yet many felt that the film was extremely uneven in places with horror and comedy proving at best tonally unreliable bed-fellows. Halloween Kills follows on directly from the events of the 2018 film ( the original Halloween and Halloween 2 did the same) and is slated for an October release with a planned Halloween Ends penciled in for 2022. These films will definitely make money and will probably be nowhere near as bad as some of the films Michael has stalked / been dragged through. The last of those will be the twelfth Halloween film (I think – this franchise is a mess).

The Blumhouse production company’s tactic of reinvigorating old properties with smaller budgets and hungry young directors echoes the shooting and budget of the 1978 original (20 days / around $300,000). Unfortunately but unsurprisingly, the tactic has a sketchy history artistically. Leigh Whannell’s Invisible Man was damn good, Black Christmas was sadly confused while Fantasy Island (good god my eyes!) was largely horrible. But they were all financially successful considering their modest budgets, a tempting investment versus return relationship that often attracts financiers to the horror genre.

Blumhouse owner Jason Blum is an avowed horror fan who has done far more good than harm to horror over the years, and most fans applauded his company’s securing of the property from Dimension Films. Not every Blumhouse project will be a success – for every Get Out there seems to be a Trick or Treat – but the retention of Green means there’s less risk that this series going off the rails before the completion of Halloween Ends. Keeping him at the helm should at least avoid some of the miscommunication that hampered the original franchise, leading John Carpenter to conduct re-shoots after debut director Rick Rosenthal’s initial film version was deemed ‘as scary as (day-time TV’s pathologist/detective) Quincy’.

That 1981 film was supposed to be the end for Michael, but the failure of Season of the Witch meant his 1988 return made financial – if little other – sense. What comes after 2022 for Michael and Laurie is unknown, but I’d be surprised if the title of the film holds in any way true. Which will mean more money for someone. John Carpenter’s fantastic original remains one of horror cinema’s greatest moments. Unfortunately, it’s success also means that it’ll probably never – much like its villain – be left to rest in peace.

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This is a comment on a film which has a 21% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes.

I left off on watching The Grudge (2020) for a while after reading and watching reviews which were fairly damning of it. I probably also figured that another J-horror remake wasn’t something I needed to spend my time on. But pandemics and a severe lack of decent cinema left me with a horror-shaped hole in my life, and until the Candyman reimagining or Prado Bailey Bond’s Censor make it to Japan’s shores (probably sometime in the next decade), I decided to take the plunge.

Takashi Shimizu’s original Juon: The Grudge freaked me out in ways few films have ever done. The idea of an unstoppable malevolent spirit (think Arnie’s Terminator but as a Japanese female evil spirit with longer, more unkempt hair) was something that I found beyond creepy. The first round of American remakes – it was the 2000’s and unlike now Hollywood was short on ideas or the guts to consider original properties – drafted in Sarah Michelle Geller for some Tokyo-based scares while hiring the original’s director for some authenticity. It was absolutely fine. There were hints of a better film but at least it wasn’t One Missed Call. It was followed by a few sequels which lost Geller and gained typically diminishing returns. As horror does.

The idea of a re-imagining has circled horror media for much of the last decade with many treatments promising a return to the wider focus of the original Japanese film and how one house’s tragedy can be one community’s horror. The move to an American setting – weakly done tbh – meant that Pesce’s film could largely avoid the ‘fish out of water giggles’ which had hampered the Geller remake. The focus on the way different characters are cursed through their interactions with the house meant we don’t get one character’s cluttered back story or too much of a focus on an attractive female in peril. Andrea Riseborough’s grief-stricken investigating cop, her new partner and the now emotionally and physically scarred previous investigating officer, an estate agent (John Cho) and his pregnant wife, and an elderly couple (horror stalwarts Betty Gilpin and Frankie Faison) are all damaged by the spirit that’s taken up residence within the house’s walls. There are nods here to what happens to a home once a tragedy has occurred; to how such a tragedy can have far-reaching consequences within the community; to how some people are trapped by modern circumstances in something they know is wrong. There’s no midnight run from the house like in Tobe Hooper’s Poltergeist (1982) for these people. Modern life has left Americans ‘shit-out-of-options’ whether their present course of actions are doomed or not. What is the same for dealing with an evil spirit is the same for dealing with the USA’s property market or gouging health-care system. And Happy Fourth of July and all that.

I admit to being something of a fan of Pesce’s previous outing, the also Japan-inspired ‘Piercing’ (2018). I felt that film struggled a little with the source material and felt limited by being forced to operate within a one-room setting. This film largely benefits from the wider cast, even if some points seem unexplored – I’m thinking one character in particular who, through no fault of the actor, really shouldn’t have been bothered with. And on the subject of actors, sometimes the old maxim of not working with children is the right one. But the cast put a lot into their performances with particularly Frankie Faison and John Cho working well with the limitations of being characters in a much larger whole. Kudos also to Demian Bicher for looking every inch the grizzled veteran who’s been weighed down by his job but doesn’t channel any ‘I’m too old for this shit’ shtick.

The Grudge certainly isn’t perfect. But looking at some of the reviews on Rotten Tomatoes, I get the feeling that some people are only vaguely aware of a Japanese scary movie 20 or so years ago, have only the most basic idea of what it was about, and did bugger all due diligence before they trod into the screening to watch ‘another J-horror remake’. The Grudge is a damn sight better than such lazy ratings. It requires patience and a willingness to engage with horror in a way beyond surface themes. I even wonder if some of the jump scares – yes, there are jump scares – might have been added post production because test screen audiences simply didn’t find the film scary. Nowadays horror needs to be ‘scary’ for audiences low on imagination, empathy or, dare I say it, intelligence. While horror films like Australian-made Relic deservedly get plaudits for giving audiences credit, other films trying the same thing get lambasted and labeled boring. The Grudge is better than a lot give it credit for; being uncharitable, I’d go so far as to suggest that it’s better than some audiences (and reviewers) deserve.

The Grudge is available on Amazon Prime in some territories.

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When the Showtime cable network tasked director Mick Garris with creating a horror anthology series for American television, Takashi Miike’s name may well have been high on the wish list. The director of ‘Audition’ (1999) and ‘Ichi the Killer’ (2001) was a generation younger than many of the other luminaries on Garris’ proposed roster – Carpenter, Coscarelli, Gordon, Hooper, Argento and others were all directors who had arguably produced their most famed and consistent work years before – while Miike’s stock was on the rise. Garris would have known that Miike would deliver something different considering how audiences (barf bags) and censors (outright bans) had reacted to some of Miike’s previous efforts. He’d also have believed that the format’s promise of offering directors a chance to produce a work free of censorious cuts would suit the Japanese director. Miike was keen to rise to the challenge, even conducting research into American audience sensibilities so he could deliver something suitable.

You can probably already tell that things didn’t exactly work out.

Imprint tells the tale of an American newspaper man named Christopher (Billy Drago) who is searching for a lost love – Komomo (Michie) – in feudal Japan. His search takes him to an island famed for its entertainments (also for being a place where only demons and whores live), where he becomes transfixed by a deformed young brothel employee (Youki Kudoh) who has a very interesting tale to tell. Over the course of the night, Kudoh torments the journalist with different versions of the truth, one of which may or may not hold the key to what happened to Christopher’s lost love. By morning, Komomo’s fate seems even less certain while the audience is left to ponder whether or not Christopher has been able to retain any of his sanity. Or if he hasn’t already entered hell.

Garris has referred to Imprint as potentially the most disturbing thing he’s ever seen. The work is highly polished, intensely visual, with performances which veer from the naturalistic to the hammy (Drago’s in particular seems reminiscent of Tommy Wiseau’s turns). It’s 1,001 Arabian Nights, Rashomon, and Japanese ghost stories blended into a concoction that even seasoned horror watchers will squirm at. Youki Kudoh as the story-teller delivers a performance that swings the full gamut from innocence to outright malevolence, reminiscent of Eihi Shinai’s Asami in Audition. She is, much like Asami, a vessel perhaps of rage, of cruelty, of pure vengeance. Christopher may begin his evening feeling sympathy and even arrogance over her, but by the end she’s turned the tables on him to horrifying results.

Watching again, I can’t help but feel some sympathy for show runner Garris. He has said himself that ‘Imprint’ is a feature for which cuts won’t work, with barely a scene passing which doesn’t contain some horror. That said, what Garris and Showtime executives thought they were getting from a director like Miike is tough to tell. Miike was given a remit, told he’d have carte blanche to produce a work of horror, and even was able to shoot in Japan where he’d have total autonomy. Miike himself seems sanguine over the experience, accepting his own audience miscalculations and seems almost thankful that the work was pulled from the season’s roster rather than being cut beyond recognition. Occasionally showing at horror festivals and available through streaming services online, Imprint remains one of Miike’s most singular work and should probably be regarded as one of the best episode’s of Master’s of Horror’s two seasons. Not that the Showtime audiences in 2006 would have known that.

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