Editorials
The Immersive Horror of the Overlook Film Festival
“You’ve always been the caretaker.”
There are genre film festivals, and then there’s the Overlook Film Festival. The founders and staff behind the fest aren’t just content to offer a lineup of films celebrating horror, but they want to fully submerse you in it. From last year’s setting of the isolated Timberline Lodge nestled high on the snowy Mt. Hood, to the second year’s relocation to one of America’s most haunted cities synonymous with voodoo, the base of operations is already saturated in horror. Then, in addition to the 23 feature films in this year’s lineup, the fest offered an extensive immersive game, ghost tours of the historic city, virtual reality experiences, live podcast events, immersive performances, and more all meant to remind you what horror feels like beyond the safety of the screen.
I began my exploration of Overlook’s immersive performance offerings with Infinitely Dinner Society: Midnight Snacks by creator Annie Lesser. The concept is a late-night pairing of food and art with math and science behind infinity, with food sourced from local bakers, shops, and farmers markets. For the Overlook, this meant a uniquely constructed performance based on the cosmic horror of the multiverse featuring a New Orleans staple; Bananas Foster. Not having a clue how cosmic horror and bananas foster went hand in hand, I signed up.
Hours before my 11p.m. appointment on opening night of the fest, I received an ominous email instructing me to meet alone on specific corner in the French Quarter, awaiting the arrival of a masked stranger in a striped chef’s apron. If I wasn’t alone, they would not acknowledge me. Alone in the dark, the chef arrived on cue, and held my hand as they led me to an empty alley way in complete silence. Stopping in front of head phones, I watched as another stranger was being led to our isolated alley from the opposite direction. Once positioned, we faced each other from 10 feet apart, our respective chefs placing the headphones over our ears as we stared at each other, listening to Lesser unravel strange reflections of cosmic terror. There were performers contorted before us as the dialogue in our ears grew more frantic, and our chefs placed the icy dessert in our hands as Lesser conveyed the coldness of dimensions beyond. The chefs also set our desserts a light, flambéing the unique twist on the bananas foster, in sync with Lesser’s woven tale. Give bowls and spoons (and wet naps to clean our hands), we were finally allowed to taste the dessert as the performance wound down, our journey back mirroring its beginning.
Another major staple thus far of the fest has been The Pumpkin Pie Show by creator, writer, and performer Clay McLeod Chapman (Co-writer of 2015’s The Boy). Described as a sort of Edgar Allan Poe for the modern age, Chapman is a storyteller like no other, relaying tales of terror from the seemingly mundane to Gothic monstrosities that pour out of him as if possessed from beyond. Overlook offered two live shows, one that included a Best of Show encore presentation from the inaugural Overlook Film Fest and New Skulduggery, which brought brand new stories to the Overlook. For those that were more daring, or just plainly wanted more, there were limited slots available for one on one stories from the storyteller.
Curiosity winning over, this meant meeting McLeod Chapman in the safety of the lobby of the Le Petit Theater, exchanging pleasantries before being led deeper and deeper into the depths of the back of the house until ending up in what essentially appeared to be a storage closet. Seated in chairs facing each other from only a few feet apart, the soft-spoken storyteller instantaneous shifted into a boisterous character and began to weave his tale of “Poor Man’s Mermaid.” The discomfort at his unflinching gaze and attention gave way to concern and then heartbreak the more his character revealed about his tragic past before giving way to horror and chills as the story started coming together. “Poor Man’s Mermaid” is a story based in plausible authenticity over the supernatural, making it even more unnerving. This intimate form of storytelling won’t be for everyone, but it’s a unique experience worth seeking out.
Another highlight was an appearance by author Grady Hendrix (Co-writer of Mohawk) and his two live shows; Paperbacks from Hell and Summerland Lost. The former was a live performance that toured the horror paperback craze that started in the early ‘70s and faded in the early ‘90s, as extensively researched in his novel of the same name. The latter, Summerland Lost, was a 75-minute one-man show that centered on spirituality and the sordid history of the Fox sisters, three sisters from New York responsible for the creation of Spiritualism.
Hendrix dimmed all the lights of the Bourbon Orleans Hotel ballroom, a room frequently cited for paranormal activity, and interwove the Fox sisters’ history with tales of the ghost of Ben Franklin, Arctic explorers, and more all in the effort to answer the big question on whether there was such a thing as life after death. Sitting in the dark with a group of strangers as Hendrix relayed the tale with razor sharp wit and quick, but heartfelt cadence, he built toward a climax that left the audience literally in tears. Hendrix made a powerful case for the answer to that question, as well as a reminder that the world needs storytellers like this.
If none of these experiences appeal to you, Overlook also offered the world premiere of a brand-new BLACKOUT experience, the X-rated fear experience that originated in New York City by creators Kristjan Thor and Josh Randall. This experience, as with its New York City counterpart, was considered extreme and required participants to sign a waiver. Because it was brand new, press was not allowed to write about it to prevent any spoilers for future participants. A fantastic excuse, because I’m not sure I’d be brave enough to sign up.
Between the exploration of the historic haunted city of New Orleans, 23 feature films, two short film blocks, VR experiences, immersive games, and a plethora of live experiences for all tastes of horror, festival co-directors Landon Zakheim and Michael Lerman have essentially turned the Overlook Film Festival into a breathing, tangible horror film that fans should seek out.
The penultimate season of Tales from the Crypt (1989–1996) aired its first three episodes on October 31, so it’s understandable that at least one of those three stories is set on Halloween.
Sandwiched between “Let the Punishment Fit the Crime” (Russell Mulcahy, Ron Finley) and “Whirlpool” (Mick Garris, A. L. Katz & Gilbert Adler) is the most severe episode of the bunch. Maybe the entire series? William Malone and Dick Beebe’s “Only Skin Deep” traded the show’s typical sense of fun for startling amounts of bleakness and kink.
“Only Skin Deep” is, apart from the Crypt Keeper’s intro and outro, noticeably unfunny. There are no considerable attempts at making the viewer laugh. Come to think of it, if those bookends had been replaced, and there was more of a sci-fi element in the story, HBO could have easily squeezed this tale into that successor anthology, Perversions of Science (1997). In Crypt, though, “Only Skin Deep” is much too grim for an audience that had become accustomed to campiness and levity.
What makes “Only Skin Deep” feel dark, among other things, is its protagonist. Showing up to a Halloween party where he’s not welcome, and where his former girlfriend (Diane DiLasco) is attending, Carl Schlag (Peter Onorati) first comes across as your standard bitter ex. You soon realize it’s much worse than that, once Carl threatens Linda (“You know, silly me, thinking I gave you what you deserved. If I’d have done that, I’d have killed you”). Now, I haven’t forgotten that Tales from the Crypt was teeming with vile men who did women harm. Yet Carl’s brand of misogynistic menace hits differently—it borders on being too realistic for this kind of series.
Mike Vosburg’s EC-style comic cover for “Only Skin Deep”, as seen in the Tales from the Crypt episode.
Despite donning a party mask for much of the episode, Carl can’t ever mask his true nature. The invitation did say “come as you are”, after all. That inability to change and be better, however, is why Carl ends up in such a karmic predicament. His outburst of anger at the party attracts the attention of one loner partygoer named Molly (Sherrie Rose, who was also in Season Four’s “On a Deadman’s Chest”). Her bone-white, featureless “mask” and body-bag costume don’t initially register as too strange, especially on a night like this. But at a party chock-full of colorful, cartoonish, and lighthearted ensembles, it does look out of place.
Darkness attracts darkness as Carl ditches the party and accompanies the mysterious Molly to her place. Which, by the way, should have been an immediate red flag. But perhaps she’s so hot, he doesn’t seem to mind the serial killer aesthetic. Resembling a warehouse that has been converted into living spaces, but never then decorated to remove the cold, industrial look, Molly’s home (or lair) is as gloomy as this whole episode feels. It’s like the set of a grungy music video, albeit a tad cleaner. The environments in a typical Crypt episode tend to be small, overfilled, and broken-in. Warm, regardless of any weird goings-on. All that empty space in Molly’s hovel, on the other hand, elicits a creepy feeling that Carl was unwise to ignore.
Tales from the Crypt featured more sex than it didn’t, but hands down, “Only Skin Deep” boasts the steamiest scene in the show’s history. Pushing it over the line, in addition to Onorati showing bare buns and the camera never turning down one of his pelvic thrusts, is the twisted dirty talk. Carl stays in the moment, whereas Molly unleashes charged lines like “the hurt, the anger, give it to me” and “take it out on my flesh like you want to”. It’s all quite kinky, as well as tied into the story’s theme of pain.
How else “Only Skin Deep” differs from other episodes is its twists. Or rather, its lack thereof. Nothing comes as a great surprise here, particularly because the deuteragonist’s ulterior motives are so obvious. By no means is Molly a wolf in sheep’s clothing; her face is a fright mask, she practically reeks of death, and she lives in what can best be described as a serial killer’s hideout. That last-act revelation of Molly’s mask really being her face is also nothing shocking. Cleverness is certainly not this episode’s strength.
A page from “…Only Skin Deep!”, as seen in EC Comics’ Tales from the Crypt.
While “Only Skin Deep” isn’t the most universally loved episode of Tales from the Crypt, it’s an interesting preview of William Malone’s future as a director. Most notably, he went on to helm House on Haunted Hill (1999) and FeardotCom (2002), the former of which was co-written by Dick Beebe, this episode’s writer. Dark Castle Entertainment, that genre house founded by Crypt producers Joel Silver, Robert Zemeckis, and Gilbert Adler, was instrumental in bringing out Malone’s gruesome, over-the-top vision in House on Haunted Hill. However, FeardotCom and Malone’s Masters of Horror episode, “Fair-Haired Child”, are the most stylistically compatible with “Only Skin Deep”.
As one might guess, this episode is nothing like its source material. The “…Only Skin Deep!” found in the pages of EC Comics is set during Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and save for its last couple of pages, is pretty sweet in nature. There, a man named Herbert is enamored with a woman he met five years prior to the present-day story. Every year, he has come down to Mardi Gras to see Suzanne, who’s always dressed as a hag-faced witch. Well, this time, Herbert plans on popping the question and marrying someone who is, for the most part, a total stranger. Suzanne accepts his proposal, but with one condition: they stay in costume until they’re officially hitched. You can probably see where this is going…
Once they are married, Suzanne remains incognito, even when she and Herbert have consummated their vows. A semi-predictive nightmare then rattles Herbert; he dreamt that Suzanne’s real face was as wizened as her mask. Finally, in his haste to find out the truth, Herbert winds up killing his new wife. Faceless and well on her way to bleeding out, the dying Suzanne manages to say she never wore a mask.
For more traditional EC-style ghastliness, your best bet is reading the comic. It’s wickedly sad. For something less conventional, as far as Tales from the Crypt goes, the role-reversing adaptation is worth watching. It’s not the best this show had to offer, although Malone’s visual style, plus the sexual abandon, does set the episode apart. If nothing else, “Only Skin Deep” leaves an impression that, even years later, shows no signs of fading.
Season Six of Tales from the Crypt can be streamed on Shudder, starting on June 5.
Tales from Tales from the Crypt celebrates the show’s Shudder premiere by singling out one episode from each season. So don’t even think about changing that dial, boys and ghouls. More spot-“frights” are to come.
Carl discovers Molly’s collection of human ‘masks’ in the Tales from the Crypt episode, “Only Skin Deep”.
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