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Time to Revisit…’Tales From the Crypt: Demon Knight’

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Ever wonder why some of your favorite lesser-known horror movies sit idly by while other films seem to capture all the glory? I know I do. That’s why I’ll be taking a look at a few horror movies over the next few days and weeks that I feel merit much more appreciation than they’ve actually received. Further, I’ll be holding these under-appreciated gems up against the examples of much more prominent similar movies to make my case for why they deserve a reappraisal.

In this edition, I take a look at the overlooked 1995 supernatural horror flick Tales From the Crypt: Demon Knight and discuss why fans of Sam Raimi’s first two Evil Dead entries – as awesome as those movies are – could maybe stand to throw a little recognition in the direction of Ernest Dickerson’s dust-collecting mini-classic.
Beloved Favorites: The Evil Dead (1981) and Evil Dead II (1987)

Number of votes on IMDB: 49,409 and 47,475, respectively

The Plots: An assortment of individuals, led by valiant protagonist Ash, become stranded in a remote cabin and must do battle with an evil force capable of possessing the bodies of the living and transforming them into murderous demons.

Why they’re so celebrated: While tonally quite different from one another, the first two films in the Evil Dead series are landmarks of the horror genre and famous for kick-starting future Spider-Man director Sam Raimi’s career. Their “D.I.Y.” origins, over-the-top grotesqueness and willingness to “go there” (I’m particularly referring to the infamous “tree rape” scene in the first entry) won over legions of hardcore genre fans, and in subsequent years the films have become widely accepted as horror classics by both top-shelf movie critics and more mainstream filmgoers. Not to mention, they are regularly cited as major influences by several future auteurs of the genre.

Why it’s time to backburner them for awhile: Make no mistake: I am in no way suggesting that Evil Dead 1 and 2 are bad movies, or somehow undeserving of the praise they have received. They are, in fact, excellent films, and they’ve proven remarkably influential on subsequent generations of independent filmmakers. But that’s just the thing: we all know they’re great, we all recognize their importance in the scheme of the horror genre, and many of us have probably watched each of them at least half a dozen times. Maybe it’s time to take a step back for a bit? Revisit a similar title that doesn’t garner near the amount of recognition as the Evil Dead films but perhaps deserves a little more appreciation? Possibly a film like…

Undervalued Also-Ran: Tales From the Crypt: Demon Knight (1995)

Number of votes on IMDB: 6,942

The Plot: An assortment of individuals, led by a mysterious stranger named Frank, must fend off a horde of monsters in a remote boarding house when the Collector, a vicious demon disguised as a man, comes to retrieve a mystical artifact from Frank’s possession that has the power to open the gates of Hell.

Why it’s not so celebrated: The first of a planned trio of Tales From the Crypt spin-off films, Demon Knight posted respectable enough box-office and home-video sales/rental numbers to warrant a second (though essentially unrelated) entry in the series – the inferior Dennis Miller vampire flick Bordello of Blood – but it nevertheless failed to make much of a dent in the popular consciousness. Though it certainly has a few admirers, it’s now generally viewed as a failed experiment at extending the Tales from the Crypt brand into a successful theatrical franchise. It also debuted at a time in which the horror genre was at a relative low point both artistically and commercially, with Scream nearly two years away and the slasher boom of the `80s long since relegated to the cultural dustbin.

Why it deserves a revisiting: Ok, I’ll admit that director Ernest Dickerson (Bones, The Walking Dead) is no Sam Raimi – he doesn’t possess near the amount of stylistic panache – but with Demon Knight he managed to deliver a fun, solidly-crafted supernatural horror flick that stands as one of the most underrated genre entries of the `90s. Blessed with a very good cast including Billy Zane, William Sadler, Thomas Haden Church, and CCH Pounder (Jada Pinkett is in it too) and sporting some genuinely impressive (and wonderfully gory) practical effects work, Dickerson admirably balances the horror and comedic elements in a way that doesn’t feel forced.

The film also boasts some sharply-drawn (though expectedly broad, given the genre) characters and a mythology surrounding the central MacGuffin (a mystical key containing the blood of Christ) that works surprisingly well. While the film doesn’t reach the same manic heights as the Evil Dead films, it’s still a fast-paced, energetic ride that’s definitely worth a (second?) look for anyone who counts themselves as fans of Raimi’s early work.

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Editorials

‘The Company of Wolves’ at 40: One of the Most Underrated Werewolf Movies Ever Made

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There’s a compelling idea in anthropology that many ancient werewolf legends are derived from our species’ need to rationalize the more animalistic side of humanity – which is why lycanthropy has historically been used to explain everything from medieval serial killers to cannibalism. While I personally think there’s a lot more to unpack when it comes to tales of wolfmen and women, this is still a great example of why so many of our most enduring fairy tales involve big bad wolves.

And in the world of film, I think there’s only one feature that really nails the folkloric origins of werewolf stories, namely Neil Jordan’s 1984 fairy-tale horror classic, The Company of Wolves. Even four decades later, there’s no other genre flick that comes close to capturing the dreamlike ambience behind this strange anthology, and that’s why I’d like to take this opportunity to look back on one of the most underrated werewolf flicks ever made.

The Company of Wolves was originally a short story contained in the 1979 anthology The Bloody Chamber, a collection of deconstructed fairy-tales intended for mature readers penned by English author Angela Carter. With the book quickly becoming a hit as readers became fascinated with its subversion of classic folk stories and (then) controversial feminist undertones, it was soon transformed into a duology of BBC radio-dramas which adapted both The Company of Wolves and Carter’s reimagining of Puss-in-Boots.

These radio-dramas soon attracted the attention of then up-and-coming Irish filmmaker Neil Jordan, who decided to meet with Carter to discuss expanding on her stories and bringing them to life on the big screen. The duo soon realized that a single short story wasn’t enough material for a feature-length film, so they decided to adapt all of Carter’s werewolf tales into a single anthology.

With a completed script and a $2.3 million budget, Jordan decided to tackle the project like a hybrid between a theatrical period drama and a schlocky monster movie. Effects-heavy creature features were a hot commodity back in the ’80s, with films like The Howling and An American Werewolf in London proving that there was an audience for horrific lycanthrope transformations, so the director soon recruited a team that could turn this odd collection of feminist folk stories into something commercially viable.

Not exactly a great pick for family movie night.

Shooting would eventually take place almost entirely within the England-based Shepperton Studios, with notable production designer Anton Furst (who would later be known for his work on Tim Burton’s Batman films) helping to bring Jordan’s vision of a darkly romantic fairy-tale world to life. Appropriately enough, production would also involve a real pack of trained wolves (as well as a collection of dyed dogs), though extensive puppetry and animatronics were also used to flesh out the more gruesome parts of the flick.

After a grueling nine-week shoot where budgetary constraints led to corners being cut on props and costumes, The Company of Wolves was finally released in September of 1984 – just in time for spooky season. In the finished film, we follow the strange dreams of a sulky teenage girl named Rosaleen (first-time actress Sarah Patterson) as the film unravels an Arabian-Nights-inspired tapestry of both familiar and not-so-familiar stories about big bad wolves.

From sexually charged cautionary tales to parables about female empowerment, this surreal collection of deranged bedtime stories is much more than the creature feature that the marketing initially suggested. Like a more horror-oriented version of Jim Henson’s Labyrinth, The Company of Wolves exudes that same kind of hormonal teenage energy that transports us back to a time when the world was both scary and exciting in equal measure.

That’s not to say that this is an entirely pleasant experience, however, and I’m not just talking about the film’s horror elements. A big portion of the flick’s overtly sexual moments involve the then 13-year-old Patterson coming to grips with her blossoming womanhood and the dangers of predatory men (usually marked with a humorous unibrow), something that naturally makes for some intentionally uncomfortable viewing – especially in the year of our lord 2024.

Obviously, I don’t think it’s my place to dissect (or even judge) the effectiveness of the film’s commentaries on being a young woman, but even as a man I can still appreciate the thought and care that went into crafting this Jungian cocktail of serious themes in a genre-movie package that almost certainly went on to inspire future werewolf movies like Ginger Snaps.

Not the worst wedding I’ve been to.

That being said, what really keeps me coming back to the film is the absurd amount of memorable imagery. From a wedding party being taken over by canines to lonely treks through snowy groves, this is exactly the gloomy world I imagined as a child when reading Grimms’ Fairy Tales – and the dreamy atmosphere is only enhanced by the movie’s overall theatricality.

This also extends to the effects, as it’s easy to forgive decapitated dummy heads and ripped rubber skin when everything is happening in a magical hyper-reality, with a great example of this is being the scene where Grandma’s head unexpectedly explodes like a porcelain doll when it’s knocked off by a wolfman. That’s not to say that the effects are bad, as several of these transformations are downright grisly and likely influenced future lycanthrope effects like those in Underworld and even Trick ‘r Treat (even if the wolf-dogs here often look more cute than scary).

Of course, these aren’t the only things that The Company of Wolves has going for it, as the main trio of Patterson, Micha Bergese and the late, great Angela Lansbury exceptionally bring these exaggerated caricatures to life and the orchestral score is an absolute delight. I also really get a kick out of that bizarre ending implying that the dangers of adult life have literally come crashing into Rosaleen’s bedroom.

The Company of Wolves may not be a perfect film, suffering from some wonky pacing and the classic anthology problem where some stories are clearly much more enjoyable than others, but I’d argue that the flick’s iconic visuals and powerful thematic throughline more than make up for any minor flaws. And while we’ve seen bigger and better werewolf films since then, when it comes to adult-oriented fairy-tales, this is one psycho-sexual journey that is still worth revisiting 40 years down the line.

The Company of Wolves

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