Recently we lost two great entertainers with the passing of director Tony Scott and actress Phyllis Diller. These are not names one associates with great horror films but they did make their contributions to our beloved genre.

The circumstances of Tony Scott’s suicide are tragic and saddening but we can always take solace in the viewing of his work.  Obviously Scott was more of an action director but his first film, 1983’s The Hunger has achieved cult status among horror fans.  The movie is an atmospheric and hauntingly sexual modern day vampire story that benefited from the great style Scott developed shooting thousands of commercials.  The Hunger stars glam rocker David Bowie and features an on screen performance of the classic goth-rock track “Bela Lugois’s Dead” by the band Bauhaus. The film also includes an infamous love scene between Susan Sarandon and Catherine Deneuve. Viewers will also be treated to one of Willem Defoe’s first film appearances, Cliff de Young and Dan Hedaya star as well.

While this is Scott’s lone horror film he did direct and produce a couple of episodes of the TV anthology series, also called The Hunger (1997), which was supposedly based on the film. In related genres Tony produced the recent sci-fi film Prometheus (2012), and the medical/science fiction TV adaptations of The Andromeda Strain (2008) and the forthcoming Coma (2012).

Two things worthy of mention are that Scott also directed the fantastic Tarantino-penned True Romance (1993) and he was the brother of revered director Ridley Scott of Alien (1979), Blade Runner (1982), Prometheus, Legend (1985) and Hannibal (2001) fame along with many more successful mainstream pictures.

Diller and dog shown here in 1991’s The Boneyard.

Phyllis Diller may have been well known for her outlandish and quirky comedy but her role as Miss Poopinplatz in The Boneyard (1991) is how fans of horror films should remember her. The Boneyard is a true horror gem that tells the story of coroners and cops trapped inside a morgue doing battle with child zombies. Among the many not-to-be-missed scenes is the attack of the zombie poodle!

Needless to say this film is an over the top horror comedy akin to The Return Of The Living Dead (1985) and deserves to be more widely-seen. The movie also stars TV’s Mr. Roper, Norman Fell, and longtime Roger Corman player Ed Nelson who is best known for the prime-time soap Peyton Place (1964).

Also of note to horror fans, Diller lent her voice to the bride of Frankenstein in Mad Monster Party (1967), a Rankin Bass stop-motion animation film featuring all the classic movie monsters.  She can also be seen in episodes of the TV shows Night Gallery (1971) and Tales From The Darkside (1985).

Scott and Diller, we raise a can to offer you both a 40 Oz. salute! Rest in peace.

Which of these movies is your favorite?

The first in a multi-part series devoted to a dead format

Alright. This is a very personal article on a subject I am pretty touchy about. I’ll just get this part of things out of the way now so you can stop reading here, laugh, or just ask yourself, ‘What?” I LOVE VHS.

I concede that almost every reason I have for this love is nostalgia-based, but nonetheless, that is how I feel, I can’t help it. Maybe it is because in a way VHS parallels my early life. I was born in the late ‘60s, developed in the ‘70s, and came of age in the ‘80s. BUT mostly, it is my memories of how the coming of VHS impacted my life and the way the movies it allowed me to see changed me forever.

The days of VHS were a time of discovery. The format heralded in fundamental changes in the way we viewed movies and TV. It brought the films off the metroplex screens and into our homes in a way TV and even cable never could. So much of this is taken for granted now, in a time when it is possible to literally watch anything, anywhere. Despite The Terminator and Aliens director James Cameron’s assertion that releasing a movie on home video is like killing it and sending it to hell, for me it was heaven.

The first VHS (Video Home System for those who were wondering) machines (also known as VCRs, Video Cassette Recorders) were huge and expensive. They cost over $1,000 in the early ‘80s, the equivalent of about $3,500 today. Blank tapes even cost over $20 each. The systems’ remotes were attached to these behemoths by a cable. The home electronics revolution had not yet happened. It was still an analogue world out there, and the impact of VHS was really less about technology and more about movies.

The first video store I ever went in required a fee for membership and a deposit for each tape rented. They limited rentals to two-at-a-time for 24 hours only and charged the economical price of $10 each for the night at a time when a movie ticket cost $2.50. But the very thought of watching Superman or The Blues Brothers, Escape from New York or Conan the Barbarian, Creepshow or Blade Runner in your own home was so mind blowing that the cost simply did not matter.

Eating your snack of choice instead of just popcorn (or even a full dinner) while watching Carrie was a brand-new experience. You were a movie magician who could do the unthinkable—pause a scene in The Exorcist for a bathroom break (or when you simply got too scared) or finish watching The Omen, rewind it, watch it again, rewind it, and watch it again.

Another measure of the impact of VHS’s arrival is no longer did you have to wait many years to see a movie on TV after it left the theaters. Even if a movie took over a year to come out on video, it always felt worth the wait. For that 24-hour rental period in which the movie was yours, you could watch it over and over and of course, eventually, rent it again.

“You know the kind, where a Mexican mummy fights a robot built by a mad scientist bent on stealing Aztec gold.”

As thrilling as this was, it was quickly matched by the insane idea that you could preserve something off television by taping it. Saturday Monster Movie Matinees and late-night black-and-white ‘50s horror flicks could be captured and viewed repeatedly. With the advent of programmable recording, you didn’t even have to stay up all night or set your alarm to start recording to see the kind of movies that got shown on UHF stations at 2:00 a.m. You know the kind, where a Mexican mummy fights a robot built by a mad scientist bent on stealing Aztec gold. Stuff not to be missed.

A VCR, shown here in a 1981 Sears catalog, was sold for for the super low price of $1,389.88

In time the VCRs  got cheaper, smaller and smarter; the one-time “for rental only” tapes became “priced to own”, and movie buffs could literally, for the first time in history, purchase their favorite films, take them home, and build a library. VCR Plus (repeated time-specific recording, achieved by simply inputting a code) gave the nation its first true taste of time shifting. Three major corporate stores drove the mom-and-pops out of business. And then some shiny discs appeared, signaling the beginning of the end—or at least the end of this way of watching movies.

It is these memories of the early days of VHS that keep the format in my heart. Yes, I recognize DVDs’ and Blu-Rays’ vast technical superiority, but the arrival of these things will always be linked to the end of so much I hold dear—video stores, box art, promo posters, tape trading, yes, even rewinding. I love the new formats also and am excited by the coming technologies as well but in the end I think I love my memories more.

If you happened to actually like this article, check back in the coming weeks for installments on memories of a video store, VHS cover art, and I’ll conclude the series by taking you on a field trip to a VHS-only rental store that is still in operation today. Until then, be kind – rewind.

I hate writing.  Seriously.  It’s like pulling fucking teeth with me.  Although, I thought if I was going to write something, this seemed like the best fit.  As many of you surely know by now, I was a child of the 80’s.  Absorbing all I could through late night creature features and trashy 80’s (some 70’s, see our top 10) cinema.  I also grew up in the good ol’ heyday of Fangoria magazine.  Watching this mag bleed from the shelves, I poured myself over every issue.  From Videodrome to The Video Dead I was enthralled, obsessed and mostly found comfort in its black and white pages. This is where I found out about the straight up gore flick and the man known as Chas Balun.

His articles spoke to me more than any other.  I think mostly because it was stuff I didn’t know existed and totally and ABSOLUTELY shouldn’t have been watching as a pre-teen.  It made me feel really dirty.  Kinda like that basement scene in 8mm.  You know the one.  It was underground, nasty and everyone discarded it as trash.  Although, in my eyes, I saw something different.

Even as they told the history of the gore flick, I really didn’t understand it as a kid.  Discussions about The Grand Guignol Theater and some of the early expressionist films like Un Chien Andalou (The famous eye slitting film) completely flew over my head.  What Chas did was drive me to find harder stuff.  Sounds wrong I know, but I sought out not magazines, but ‘zines that talked about and shared the tougher, hard to find movies that quenched the thirst of gore hounds.  ‘Zines that I actually had to order to my local comic shop (Comic Carnival) and hide from my parents or they probably would have sent me to counciling of some sort, which now go for a chunk of coin if collectors are willing to part with them on ebay.  On top of ‘zines, there were magazines like DEEP RED,  GOREZONE, EYEBALL and ULTRA VIOLENT that went balls deep into the genre and were considered the bibles of gore by many fans.

A decade and change later, I still find myself going through my well worn out Gore Score review guide, actually highlighted with pages dog eared and torn. If Chas taught me any two things it was this:  Herschel Gordon Lewis was GOD to gore fans and a very close second was that Italians could do anything better than Americans.  We here at 40oz of Horror! salute you Charlie “Chas” Bauln!  Drink Up!

Drew Struzan has the near impossible task of depicting one medium using another.  He is, simply put, a movie poster painter but is not just A movie poster painter, he is THE movie poster painter.  Emerging from a field of a dozen or so who shared his craft in the ‘70s, Drew Struzan has become the sole keeper of the flame.

Darabont got Struzan to paint The Walking Dead for Comic-Con

Drew has painted the posters for some of the most successful movies of all time.  His posters are not just ads for the films, they are works of art that have a very unique effect on the viewer.  When you look at one of Drew’s posters, even if you haven’t already seen the film, you feel like you have; and if you have seen the film, you feel like you’ve just seen it again.  His special blend of life-like strokes and nostalgic imagery places his work equally at home in an art gallery or on a lunchbox.

Drew does not only paint movie posters. He has handled advertising campaigns and done art for books and bands, including famous album covers for horror rock gods Alice Cooper and Black Sabbath. However it is his movie poster art that is his true love. His stated goal is to portray the heart of the film through his work.

Painted movie posters are a tradition that is old as cinema but one that is dying in the digital age. This makes Drew and his hands-on approach even more treasured.  When possible he goes on set while filming and even requests special photo sessions with the actors to work from. When he is not able to be involved on that level, he creates his art from viewings of the film, sometimes from a rough or incomplete cut.  Drew has even created poster art from just watching trailers, and in at least one instance, from seeing nothing at all – just receiving a desperate phone call with a few word description of the subject.

While most poster artists receive no recognition, having Drew “paint your movie” is considered an honor in Hollywood. He is a favorite of the biggest name directors working today: Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, Frank Darabont, Guillermo Del Toro.

The titles of some of the movies Struzan has immortalized speak for themselves – the Star Wars films, the Indiana Jones films, the Back to the Future films, the Harry Potter films, even E.T. as well as the Muppets film series. These posters have been seen by billions (yes, billions) of people around the world from every culture in every nation.

40 Oz. followers and fans of genre films will also know his posters from Hellboy (2004), a duo of John Carpenter’s movies, Big Trouble in Little China (1986) and The Thing (1982) (which was painted in one night), Blade Runner: The Final Cut (2007), along with many others.  Fanboy favorite The Goonies (1985) and Kevin Smith’s ode to comic book geekdom Mallrats (1995) were both painted by Struzan as well.

Art for Carpenter’s The Thing was painted in one night

Even though Drew is an unparalleled master at his craft, he is (like most in the movie business) not above “slumming it” when he has to, working on awesomely campy and cheesy films like  Masters Of The Universe (1987), Dreamscape (1984), Jake Speed (1986) and the Police Academy series. He even has the distinguishing (dis)pleasure of having done a poster for a movie that ended up being riffed by Mystery Science Theater 3000, Squirm (1976). To be fair, while the film is insufferably bad Squirm’s poster art is fantastic – a horrifying image of roots, worms and decay that recalls the style of Edvard Munch’s painting The Scream.

There are multiple coffee table and art-style books of Struzan’s work available and even a documentary film on him in the works. And of course if you have a few hundred thousand dollars to spare he does have his original art for sale on the internet. Without a doubt, whichever one of his works you would choose would look even more awesome hanging behind your couch than it did in the theater lobby.

A few weeks ago, the 95-year-old Ernest Borgnine ended his over 60 year-long acting career. With his passing there were the expected obituaries and articles.  Most of them recalled his action movies like The Dirty Dozen (1967), Ice Station Zebra (1968) and The Poseidon Adventure (1972), or his western work in The Wild Bunch (1969) and TV’s Wagon Train (1957). Borgnine was remembered for his early dramatic turns in the Oscar-winning Marty (1955) and From Here To Eternity (1953) as well as the comedic side he displayed in the television shows, McHale’s Navy (1962) and the SpongeBob cartoon (1999), where he voiced Mermaid Man. What almost all of these writers of the various tributes failed to recall was his awesome work in genre pictures.

One of Borgnine’s earliest acting jobs was as a villain on what is possibly TV’s first sci-fi show, Captain Video and His Video Rangers, back in 1951. Between then and his recent role as The Record Keeper in the movie adaptation of the comic book Red (2010), Borgnine contributed to many horror, sci-fi and other related projects.

What is arguably Borgnine’s best non-mainstream work can be found in a trio of movies 40 Oz. fans are sure to love. He really delivered as Bruce Davison’s jerky slob of a boss in Willard (1971). So greatly does he make the audience hate him that it is hard not to cheer when he is eventually devoured by an army of rats.

A campily cheesy film brought us one of his most fun leading parts, the satan-worshipping cultist Jonathan Corbis in The Devil’s Rain (1975).  The sequence where Borgnine turns into a goat and then melts (yes, you read that right) is hard to forget.  Also worth mentioning: this movie features Shatner (yes, THAT Shatner), Travolta (yes, THAT Travolta in his film debut) as well as Tom Skerrit, Keenan Wynn and other familiar names. It is really a must see.

NYC’s coolest cabbie, Ernest Borgnine

Perhaps Ernest Borgnine’s greatest “alternative” role can be found in John Carpenter’s sci-fi action masterpiece Escape From New York (1981). Borgnine is one of the film’s trio of “old masters”, along with Lee Van Cleef and Donald Pleasance. As the lovable Cabbie he delivers great lines, ties NYC’s past to its future and is the closest thing to a sidekick Snake Plissken ever needed due to his one “super-power”, the ability to show up just when someone needs a ride.

Also not to be forgotten are his turns as the journalist in Disney’s sci-fi flop The Black Hole (1979) and his quick appearance as an outpost ruler in the hard-to-find apocalyptic gang war flick, Ravagers  (1979). He also can be found in small but good roles in the stylishly cold Gattaca (1997) and Wes Craven’s Amish cult thriller Deadly Blessings (1981).

To be clear, not all of the genre films he was involved in were great or even good.  Cases in point are his roles as Professor Braun in Laser Mission (1989) with Brandon Lee and the diver in the underwater turkey The Neptune Factor (1973).  A favorite of these bombs finds him as the unnamed grandfather in the bookend segments of Merlin’s Shop of Mystical Wonders (1996). One has to hope he was not too offended at the way Mystery Science Theater 3000 savaged him when they riffed it, mocking Grandpa Borgnine for smuggling “a sea turtle under his sweater vest”.

Last but not least we have what are probably Borgnine’s strangest roles of his long career in the form of two sci-fi police stories. The bizarre Italian-made Super Fuzz (1980) has Borgnine playing the stupidly bewildered Sgt. Dunlop, whose partner is transformed into the title character when hit by red nuclear dust in this superhero comedy.  And in the undeservedly short-lived mid-‘70s TV show Future Cop Borgnine stars as the human partner to the first android on the police force.

Borgnine created some amazing work in his few quality genre pictures and even left us some great guilty pleasures in those that didn’t turn out so well.  Gone but not forgotten, 40 Oz. of Horror raises a can in his honor: rest in peace Ernest Borgnine!