William Castle kicks off his biography, Step Right Up! I’m Going To Scare The Pants Off America!, with an age old question. What attracts people to horror films? Why do they…
Joseph A. Ziemba
-
-
Indiana is the quintessential Midwestern industrial wasteland — oil refineries, steel mills, and shitloads of corn. You’d never know it, but there’s more than gross smells, Splashin’ Safari, and corn in…
-
From the concrete of Cape Canaveral to the beaches of Japan, the brilliant Dr. X has his stuff together. He knows what he wants and he gets what he wants. Alas,…
-
In line at the grocery store, I hoped that Samantha was going to be OK. Driving home, I hoped nothing terrible happened to Alan. Making breakfast the next morning, I tried…
-
Who needs Freddy Krueger when we have Death Bed: The Bed That Eats? Deep within a forest, a cobblestone embankment houses an underground cave. Inside the cave lies Death Bed: The…
-
In 1962, The Crystals sang, “He’s a rebel and he’ll never ever be understood.” The Phil Spector production was a runaway #1 hit in the U.S., but peaked at #19 on…
-
In fourth grade, my art class was given an assignment to make something out of papier-mâché. There were no restrictions, unless you tried to make boobs. While other kids sculpted away on…
-
Spiritual lightning has struck again. Walking home from work, I was seized by psychic thunderclaps, revealing themselves as screeching female voices: “Find the Dance Costumes By Eros! Find the Special Electronic…
-
I once caught a few minutes of a 40s-era Bowery Boys film on cable. It’s no surprise that I can’t remember the title. After about five minutes of humor that was…
-
Jean jacket. Chuck Taylor hi-tops. Fluffy mustache. The power of God. Lando San Miguel is here to save us. Ah, the Phillipines. It’s nice to be back. Just when the memories…
-
This morning, my Lucky Charms were sweet as can be. The work day treated me just fine. But then, while riding the train, I nodded off on the way home. Visions…
-
In his book Crackpot, John Waters encapsulates 1960s nudist camp films: “Happy, healthy idiots on pogo sticks with air-brushed crotches.” That about sums it up. So what happens when monsters are…
-
Brian Wilson’s dreamy voice emotes as The Beach Boys’ “In My Room” crackles through a transistor radio. A mirror reflects a young kid as he creates a mustache with shoe polish.…
-
Reminiscing about her 1950s escapades in Hollywood, Maila Nurmi (aka Vampira) turns to the camera and says, “Of course, I thought I was from another planet.” That’s why we love her.…
-
The Transylvania Chamber of Commerce just opened their second bottle of French cognac tonight. They’re celebrating because they’ve figured out a surefire way to drum up some cash-flow during the tourist…
-
The moldy scent of pointlessness has shuffled into the living room. I’ll do what I can to help. Screams of a Winter Night is a PG-rated, low-budget anthology horror film from…
-
Remember the days of pining for ratty copies of films like The Atomic Brain aka Monstrosity on VHS? Possibly forking out $15-20 a piece? Sure, there was a certain romanticism to photocopied covers from…
-
For a full exploration of the 1980s SOV revolution, pick up BLEEDING SKULL! A 1980s Trash-Horror Odyssey (Headpress, 2013). It’s a brisk Friday night in June, 1987. You shuffle into Dave’s…
-
Spending a few minutes with The Thrill Killers is like leafing through a vintage copy of Monster World in your parents’ attic, watching an old VHS of The Beatles on Ed…
-
It’s funny how the passage of time can affect a film. Take this one, for instance. Ridiculous? An absolute bore? To stuffy minds of earlier decades, perhaps those descriptions are apt.…