Editorials
10 Best “Todd and the Book of Pure Evil” Episodes!
What happens when you blend the might of Valhalla’s metal symphony by way of Tenacious D lyricism, Ash vs Evil Dead brain juices and Deathgasm’s headbanger bromanship? You get one of Canada’s most righteous genre imports, Todd and the Book of Pure Evil. It took until Todd hit Netflix during the platform’s earliest streaming days before I binged my US-born eyes silly on slapstick stoner satanics – but, alas, the rights expired and Crowley High’s finest soon needed a new home. Enter AMC’s Shudder streaming service (years later), who – to my supreme delight – will be *exclusively* offering Todd And The Book Of Pure Evil under their on-demand banner starting July 26th. GET READY FOR YOUR EYES TO BLEED TEARS OF AWESOMENESS, SHIT ROOSTERS! Todd’s coming back for sloppy…thirds? Canadian TV, Netflix, 2018’s continuation movie – not even. Frenzied fourths!
Need a quick crash course in all things Pure Evil? Here’s the scoop.
Todd (Alex House) is your typical smokestack underachiever selected by a magical “Book Of Pure Evil” to become some almighty “Pure Evil One.” He does his best to fight back against the book’s teachings, which means weaker students are preyed upon and made into wish-granted minions Todd must vanquish. By his side are corn-chips-munchin’ buddy Curtis (Bill Turnbull), forever goth crush Jenny (Maggie Castle) and brainiac Hannah (Melanie Leishman). Together they must prevent Todd from fulfilling an age-old prophecy foretold by three metalhead “wise men” and school guidance counselor/Crowley Heights cult informant Atticus Murphy Jr. (Chris Leavins), with Crowley High as their episodic battleground. Sanitized each week by janitor Jimmy’s (Jason Mewes) trusty “blood mop.”
With the show’s re-re-release, I thought it proper to honor my favorite Toddisodes as a way of enlightening virgin audiences. Sweet mother of Satan, it’s time to get horny like the devil and rip from the taco bong once again. Hope you’re ready to get wild, crazy and covered in student body goo!
Be warned, spoilers ahead.
10) “B.Y.O.B.O.P.E.” (S2 E11)
Todd And The Book Of Pure Evil dials up a high school party episode? Of course. All of Crowley High’s youngest and dumbest…chugging keg beers…numb to moral quandaries. The perfect place for a Book Of Pure Evil to infect multiple vessels.
You’ll get your mystical damnation as promised – Eliza (Satara Subedar) sets off a chain of “stolen hearts,” Lenny (Tristan Carlucci) becomes an ultimate beer chugger, “Dancerman” (Mat Andre) can’t quit – but entertainment isn’t derived *just* from the book’s bloodbath. Jenny picks up a vinyl record with the three metal dudes on the front who are outed as Ask Not The Innkeeper – a reference to one of their cryptic clues. She listens to “The Prophecy” and three rules are foretold that will bring upon the Pure Evil One’s reign. One of which is “must not be a virgin,’ aka “loser.” Cue Jenny’s cockblocking of Todd and Nikki (Carmen Lavigne), which in-turn cockblocks Curtis and Hannah.
This is all while Atticus Murphy Jr. tries to sleuth his way around the liquor-soaked student party under the guise of “cool, wrong side of the tracks guy” Scooter (who successfully steals the night). He even has ice on hand when needed, which is used to keep Atticus Murphy Sr.’s decapitated head from decomposing further – because what party is complete without your guidance counselor talking to his deceased father’s corpse-piece Psycho style?
Bonus points for Red Fang playing in the background.
9) “Daddy Tissues” (S2 E3)
During Season 1’s finale, Jenny finds her missing father Pat Kolinsky (Ross McMillan) drugged and stashed away inside the Crowley Heights Retirement Home (filled with satanist seniors). In “Daddy Tissues,” Jenny has already been rescued by Todd and papa awakens from his vegetative state. He desperately wants to join Jenny’s gang so his journalistic labors can payoff when they find the Book Of Pure Evil, but he’s too uncool by age standards. This brings the book right to him, and even Pat can’t resist reading an etched incantation.
The book, in all its evil trickery, allows Jenny’s father to wear other people’s skin in an attempt to become younger. After a few failed flesh swaps (daddy first selects students the gang hates), Pat strikes gold by “impeaching” (aka skinning) class president Devon Morrow (Jamie Johnston). He’s instantly accepted – even able to talk about how rad buffets are thanks to Devon’s ultimate coolness – but popularity comes with a price when Jenny shows romantic interest in the gang’s new class president accomplice. Pat stumbles time and time again when trying to not hook up with his daughter, costumes tear with nasty regard and Atticus Murphy Jr. invents the greatest combination of arbitrary words in the history of television – “shit rooster.”
For that reason alone, “Daddy Tissues” makes my list.
8) “Loser Generated Content” (S2 E8)
When the A/V Club gets the book’s attention, life becomes an editable project for two vengeful “nerds” who can now split-screen, fade wipe and edit students to death. But why would they want to? Simple. Todd destroyed all their equipment during one of his signature fights against evil.
I love Todd And The Book Of Pure Evil because the first few minutes of “Loser Generated Content” are laced with oh-so-aware satire. Time and time again the show meta-ly pokes fun at horror tropes (Jimmy’s cleaner detail, teachers locking themselves in safety when Todd rushes out of class), but this specific episode’s beauty pageant beast cuts right to the chase. Cold open on Jenny the pageant queen, Hannah in mime makeup and Curtis’ mechanized hand malfunctioning while Todd vanquishes another foe. It all is so inexplicably ridiculous, and that’s *exactly* what the group acknowledges. Nonchalantly, as just another crazy Crowley High day.
Only this time their collateral damage must be answered for.
The true episode bookwork is a disgruntled film student’s dreamiest The Truman Show rampage. Reggie (Ben Beauchemin) and Dennis (Robel Zere) turn Todd into a pervy stalker by “cutting” him into Jenny’s world as only a psychopath might skulk (naked in her closet, etc). Todd actively tries to stay away from his crush, but the book has morphed into an editing suite control console with infinite cutting-room powers. Black lines slice bodies in two as Atticus Murphy Jr. watches alongside the Crowley High tech studs (hoping he’ll witness Todd Smith’s final scene). Even by Todd And The Book Of Pure Evil standards, “Loser Generated Content” is a crackup, popcorn poppin’ student film departure.
7) “The Phantom Of Crowley High” (S1 E11)
“ART…IS…PAIN. THERE CAN BE NO ART WITHOUT THE RISK OF MUTILATION OR DEATH.”
Ah, the “Phantom’s” first appearance. A high school rock opera that roasts musical television episodes in musical television episode format. Todd And The Book Of Pure Evil couldn’t know what they’d be starting with this “part one” proletariat compliance saga, not quite Phantom Of The Paradise but no stuffy Phantom Of The Opera either. Charlotte (Angela Jill Guingcangco) – Crowley High’s drama star who can’t sing – seduced by the book with vocal talents only to still play second fiddle while other’s performatively impress. You know, like Todd’s “Battle Of Babylon” by Vagina Conqueror tryout.
Atticus Murphy Jr. despises his task to direct a musical production *until* Todd recommends a metal musical. Parents will hate it! Thus two pages and one song worth of “The Bowels of Hell” are born, which – of course – is a recounting of Atticus’ darkest memories as an ‘eff you to daddy dearest. Cut to Todd playing Atticus, Jenny as Atticus’ girlfriend who’s stolen away, and Atticus as mean-old Atticus Murphy Sr. himself. Never better than Todd wearing a wedding dress (as Atticus) to replicate the ancient ceremony of manhood involving big bad Mr. Wolf.
Like, we *know* Atticus experienced a life-changing wolf run-in, but to see it in amateur theater format? Sure, three cheers for Hannah and Curtis stoking the first fires of their relationship – yet on-stage footage is everything Book Of Pure Evil highlights are made of. Hornified Heavy Metal school sing-alongs that’d get any teacher fired – just not at Crowley High.
6) “Fisting Fantasy” (S2 E6)
As Season 2 of Todd And The Book Of Pure Evil unfolds, larger and zanier realities manifest inside the walls of Crowley High from protozoan jungles to socialist dystopias – none more enveloping than the MMORPG realm of Fisting Fantasy 8½. World of Warcraft in real life. Icy frostlands, red-armored knights and rhyming little puppet sidekicks only a smidge more endearing than that problematic muppet in Your Highness. Where’s the horror you ask? Gone fishin’ I guess, but luckily the change-of-pace works palate-cleansing wonders.
In true Book Of Pure Evil fashion, a large proportion of humor comes by way Curtis’ gigantic purple jugs (his LadyDeathBoobs avatar) and Hannah’s transformation into a pink-haired furry fetish character complete with gigantic member. Fantasy aspects are massive and costumes range from barbaric loin cloths (Todd) to head-to-toe “Murk Lurker” goblins, but everything always comes back to world-building. Hannah’s “key,” DDR battles, Jimmy the NPC blacksmith dwarf. No detail suggests insignificance, and even the more “annoying” gags hold quite well. Looking at you Mischievo. “To the snake you would throw me? Mischievo says blow me!” Never change.
5) “Gay Day” (S1 E4)
One of Todd And The Book Of Pure Evil’s most applaudable qualities is a strive to shape episodes around stereotypical – but important – high school issues. Be it consent, bullying, friendship, or in “Gay Day’s” case, acceptance. Am I saying these issues are handled with the sweetness of Richard Linklater or poignancy of Oscar-nominated affairs? Of course not. But does an episode like “Gay Day” make time to bat for those considered “different” inside already unsafe schoolyard boundaries? Better than you might think.
Then the monologue giver gets pulled apart into hoistable trophy pieces as blood squirts everywhere, in true Book Of Pure Evil fashion. Don’t worry. Media content definitely has to retain brand recognition.
In the episode, a homosexual student (Simon, played by Benjamin Charles Watson) is being harassed by dickwad jock Bailey (Kyle Nobess) and his crew. After some pure evil designs, every male in Crowley High turns gay while Simon “straightens out.” Bailey’s crew still harasses him on the same traumatic level, but this time while calling him a homophobe as the shoe has proverbially dropped. Not to mention Crowley High’s female population forms an angry mob that merges with Bailey’s growing “get ‘em, girls” army, all of whom want to murder Simon (maybe or maybe not Hannah’s fault).
What does this mean for Todd’s gang? Curtis starts coming onto his best friend and Todd can’t get “excited” for Jenny anymore. Which, if you’ve watched the show, is a pretty big scripted development. Caressed arms, doe-eyes, maybe even some swapped spit? Plus this is the *first* episode where Todd And The Book Of Pure Evil hits a steady upward stride that continues almost unfazed until the end of Season 2 – and we learn which minion is in charge of watching Atticus Murphy Jr.’s weiner. Like I said, always gots to be on brand.
4) “Cockfight” (S1 E8)
As if Todd’s constant phallic commentary wasn’t enough, “Cockfight” devotes an *entire* episode to Crowley High’s biggest, meanest dick. A talking “Wangdusa” that can turn onlookers to stone when gazing at the angry lower-half appendage. Better yet? “Cockfight’s” one-eyed monster is connected to Bailey, whose massive overcompensation issue outs his bully motivations. There’s no twisting messages here. Todd And The Book Of Pure Evil unleashes a talking dick creature while still introducing pertinent plot information that forever alters Todd’s trajectory. This one has it all, folks.
Of course, fans of the show know Curtis is found as a statue at the episode’s onset. No one can understand including Todd, who gets high and forgets his own plan. Stoner ignorance is a major player in “Cockfight,” as well as Chris Leavin’s pitch-perfect argyle awkwardness and unit chatter behind closed doors. Atticus Murphy Jr. is an outright scene-stealer at any moment, but episodes like “Cockfight” are built of moments that elevate cream to the top. Inept, confused and helplessly enraged by the slightest bumble. Atticus just wants the Book Of Pure Evil and can never catch a break – not even when it’s being held in place by a Curtis’ rock-solid hands.
Oh, and Todd’s sight blockage gear is fantastic – complete with cape and paper slicer sword. Ridiculous? Of course. But in the proper way only a pothead like Todd can pull off.
3) “Checkmate” (S1 E12)
This is where I differ with a lot of Todd And The Book Of Pure Evil fans. I recognize it. I respect it. That acknowledged, hearing Hannah B. Williams repeat the line “We’re so wasted!” be it talk, text, or *any* medium destroys me. Laughing bouts of ruination. “Checkmate” a cult-forward, all-seeing-yet-expected episode, but when Curtis and Hannah get hypnotized by Leonard tonality takes a magnificent turn. Their attempts to outsmart Todd are *so* morninic that even Todd diffuses then in seconds – only the ruse still plays out. Hannah always trying to cover with a “We’re so wasted!” I have the giggles just thinking about it. Melanie Leishman, act in more comedies please.
“Checkmate” is a beautiful marriage of normal Todd hijinks and very obvious book influences. The weird? Eyes bulge in a very overt CGI type of way to highlight brainwashed cronies. The normal? Todd ignores possible danger to the point where characters scream in Todd’s face and it takes his best friends being kidnapped before exerted efforts are made. This opens a perfect moment for Atticus Murphy Jr. to play hero, followed by detention-ready ridiculousness and then a mega-bloody practical death by way of head explosion. You know who. Let’s not play coy.
2) “Deathday Cake” (S2 E9)
Why is an episode about the book taking birthday cake form so memorable? Troy (Jeremy Walmsley). Spewed retirement-home blood. An amazing devotion to idiotic birthday celebrations. Have I ever heard of birthday shoes? No, but why don’t I have them and how bad are my friends? Plus, once again, Todd And The Book Of Pure Evil proves why it’s a showstopping spectacle of practical grossness and dankest-of-dank scripting. In a rewatchable, unstoppable way.
“Deathday Cake” is all about a puritanical Martha-Ruth (Amber Cull) hating that she can’t celebrate her birthday because of religious restrictions. The book takes the form of evil bakery tiers and said girl feeds birthday-celebrating students to the cake so she can gain their age. Oh, it’s your 18th birthday? Feeding time comes and 18 more years are immediately added to the rapidly maturing Martha-Ruth as she wheels around a massive frosted and fanged dessert. The kick is euphoric – she’s never experienced a birthday before – but the cost is tragic. Then Atticus gets involved with his devotion to Troy and “Deathday Cake” reaches hijinx critical mass.
All the best aspects of practical buffoonery, gore to the max and screamy, weepy Atticus absurdity. All praise the hungriest cake in history.
1) “2 Girls, 1 Tongue” (S2 EP10)
To quote fellow critic Matthew Monagle, “todd and the book of pure evil musical episode > buffy musical episode.” Hard stop. I’m a big-ass-baby-sized sucker for horror musicals, and while this isn’t the first time Todd’s crew faced off against the Phantom’s melodic murder spree, it’s hands-down the best. Best musical episode, best overall episode, best overall episode of comedic horror-based television…maybe…ever? From that perfect whip-pan moment when Charlotte reappears as one of the gang instead of Hannah, it’s all systems go on the rock-out front. Hannah now flipped as the Phantom of Crowley High, able to centerpiece Melanie Leishman’s voice when Hannah stitches a leather shoe tongue as her prosthetic replacement.
Every song rattles amps with the sounds of engorged member talk and hair-metal odyssey epicness. Hannah brings the house crumbling down as she laments about someone else touching her man’s banana (Charlotte swaps places with Hannah, Curtis hypnotized). Todd warns the Phantom to stay away from his schlong while brandishing Sand Dragon (his sword). Chris Leavins brings us back to Atticus Murphy Jr.’s night of deflowering in a segment where “Wolf rape! Wolf rape!” is chanted and Leavins mimes submission to a costumed Granny eater. It’s lyrically unstable, musically enchanting and so very boners-and-blood-gushing in every way that shapes Todd And The Book Of Pure Evil into the bingeable beast it is. “Horny Like The Devil,” Liberace Atticus and the book that keeps on giving. If there’s a better Atticus Murphy Jr. gif than the one from this episode playing below, I haven’t seen it (because it doesn’t exist).
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
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