Editorials
Sisters United in Blood: The ‘Ginger Snaps’ Trilogy
From the quaint suburbs of Bailey Downs emerged a pair of horror’s most memorable sisters that would offer a rarity; a trilogy of modern werewolf films. The trio of Canadian horror films started 18 years ago with the now modern classic Ginger Snaps, catching the film festival circuit by storm by word-of-mouth, garnering a Canadian theatrical release on May 11, 2001. Directed by John Fawcett and written by Karen Walton, with both sharing story credits, the macabre Fitzgerald sisters and the deadly puberty is hell metaphor of Ginger Snaps would capture horror hearts and inspire two back-to-back filmed sequels refused to give in to expectations.
Katharine Isabelle slayed as the eponymous Ginger, and Emily Perkins as the meeker younger sister Brigitte, but finding them proved difficult in the casting process. The gore and language kept Canadian casting directors at bay, and when one finally did agree to pick up the film, the W.R. Myers High School shooting in Alberta, Canada that took place mere days after the Columbine High School shooting suddenly thrust violence in teens into the spotlight. Which meant teen-based horror like Ginger Snaps was met with outrage and scrutiny. After a six month process of casting, both leads were found on the same day.
The story follows the death-obsessed, outcast sisters as they navigate high school, bullies, and boredom in their quiet suburb town. Though Ginger is the leader, more outgoing and rebellious compared to her shy sister, Brigitte, the bond between them is impenetrable. That is until Ginger gets her first period, and it happens to attract a werewolf that’s been hunting in the area. Ginger survives her attack, and her slow werewolf transformation exhibits similar signs to going through puberty; new bodily hair, mood swings, and a new sexual hunger. Ginger’s transformation into womanhood mirrors her transformation to werewolf, driving a wedge between sisters as Brigitte is suddenly forced to learn how to stand on her own. It brings a clever new twist to the werewolf sub-genre, but more than a gory puberty metaphor, it ingeniously examines moral ambiguity. Ginger’s new lust for blood means a pile of bodies left in her wake, and they don’t always deserve it. Brigitte’s core conflict is between her love for her sister and doing what is right, making for a fitting if not bleak ending.
With the titular character no longer in the picture, how do you handle a sequel? Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed, written by Megan Martin and directed by Brett Sullivan, picks up after the events of the first film with Brigitte now struggling with her own impending werewolf transformation. This time, lycanthropy is used as a metaphor for addiction, as Brigitte spends much of the film in a rehab clinic as she desperately clings to monkshood extract to ward off her transformation. The ghost of Ginger taunting her sister every step of the way, as Brigitte leans further and further into extremes. The biting humor of the first film is traded in for pessimism, and Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed offers a brutal ending that has often become a sticking point for fans, even if appropriate given its dark theme on succumbing to addiction.
It was a bold direction to take the sequel of a beloved cult hit, keeping with Ginger’s rebellious nature by giving fans nothing of what they expected and offering up something completely different. It also failed to generate the same word of mouth that its predecessor did, likely due to far less festival and promotional support. This meant its theatrical run proved more disappointing. Reviewed mostly favorably, but underseen, Ginger Snaps 2: Unleashed carried on the Fitzgerald sisters’ story in a way that deftly avoided cliché.
Shot back-to-back with the sequel, both released in 2004, the direct to DVD third entry in the series brought Ginger back into a much more prominent role by setting the story in 1815. Ginger Snaps Back: The Beginning takes the ancestors of the Fitzgerald sisters to the settling days of Canada, where they’re forced to take refuge in Fort Bailey, a place consistently under siege by werewolves. While the prequel setting of 1815 makes for a unique Gothic facelift, the core story relies heavily on the same beats of the first film. Once again Ginger is bitten, and once again it’s Brigitte that must struggle with saving or killing her sister. The prequel weaves in new werewolf mythology that sets in motion the fate of the future of werewolves. Ginger Snaps Back ups the kill count and number of werewolves, but leaves out the humor of the first film that helped solidify its cult status. Even still, it brings a more uplifting sense of closure to the series, and it’s an extremely ambitious film for a third entry in a series.
The werewolf sub-genre is far scarcer than it should be. Even rarer are sequels to well-received werewolf movies (can we ever get a Dog Soldiers part two?). That Ginger Snaps generated not one but two follow-ups is a testament to the importance of great characters and stories in horror, and really cool werewolves helps. Ginger and Brigitte’s bond saw them through puberty, addiction, high school bullies, and even the dangers of a wild wilderness during the early 19th century. The perfect casting of Isabelle and Perkins only further cemented the on-screen bond between sisters, unbreakable and relatable. “Sisters united in blood, together forever.”
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”.
You must be logged in to post a comment.