Editorials
6 Underrated Horror Musicals to Watch After ‘Anna and the Apocalypse’
With the release of Orion’s Anna and the Apocalypse in limited theaters this weekend, allow me two proclamations. First, SEE ANNA AND THE APOCALYPSE. Not only does John McPhail’s showstopper fulfill Christmas Horror promises, but it does so as a dynamite Scottish zombie musical. Second, y’all don’t watch enough horror musicals. Maybe you – specifically – do, the reader who comments “Where’s Repo! The Genetic Opera on this list!” (Not underrated, relax.) The mainstream remainder? Too many times my excitement over horror musicals falls on unknowing ears, but fret not! Might I recommend a few titles that might help interest swell?
In the spirit of Christmas gratuity, I’ve gone ahead and wrangled some of my favorite underappreciated horror musicals. Some pulpy 70s schlock, some festival discoveries, and others just good ol’ monster mashes. Mixing your midnight massacres with foot-tappin’ Sondheim sophistication is ok. Here’s hoping you dig these gallows grooves.
P.S. If anyone can find a copy of Midnight Ballad For Ghost Theater in the US, hit a horror musical lover up! My interwebs investigating ended in disappointment minus that one guy on the Dark Web who wanted three of my toes in return.
Stage Fright
If you’re a fan of Jerome Sable and Eli Batalion’s musical campfire short The Legend of Beaver Dam, you’ll *love* their theatrical sing-along slasher Stage Fright. (For the record, not a remake of 1987’s owl-headed hack-em-up.) The SXSW Midnight sensation tells of future stage divas who are perfecting their summer camp’s yearly production. The play? A kabuki variation on The Haunting Of The Opera (direct The Phantom Of The Opera riff). The problem? A black-leather figure who wears their Phantom’s new mask starts chopping performers and crew to bits while screeching 80s metal threats.
Horror musicals sometimes showcase imbalance when kill sequences are weakened by too committed a focus on musical interludes or vice versa – but that’s not Stage Fright. From Minnie Driver’s backstory cameo that ends in tragedy (a setup for her children years later) and onward, Sable’s out to soak his symphony pit in splattery gore. Then you mix in Batalion’s original compositions – from cheery counselor spirit builders to epic Iron Maiden howls – and a cast that sells every slice of egotistical backstage drama? We’re talking infectious entertainment so good I’m *just* getting around to namedropping Meatloaf as Center Stage producer Roger McCall. Or lead starlet Allie MacDonald. Or Todd & The Book Of Pure Evil veteran Melanie Leishman. You catch my drift.
Suck
Suck is a 2009 rock n’ roll fantasy kissed by vampire lips that’s written, directed by and starring Rob Stefaniuk. All the fun of a 2000s era rise from dingy punk clubs to legendary status packed full of rockstar cameos from Moby as carnivorous Secretaries of Steak frontman Beef Bellows to Alex Lifeson as a border officer to Alice Cooper’s demigod bartender. As fictional band The Winners rises in fame due to their vampire conversion, Eddie Van Helsing’s pursuit intensifies (none other than Malcolm McDowell). Suck has every right to be the tone-deaf VOD skip it sounds but plucks catchy horror musical notes with a seductive on-the-road bite.
Iggy Pop, Henry Rollins, Dimitri Coats – Suck could program one memorable weekend festival from its cast alone. Better yet, it doesn’t solely rely on recognizable rockstars to earn points. Jessica Paré stands out as the band’s sultry first convert (after a night with dreamboat vamp Queenie), then her friends turn one-by-one. Their need to feed is followed by hangovers and roadie Hugo’s (Chris Ratz) unenviable new duty as clean-up crew. Nothing astounding or new on the vampirism front, but as a sucker for goth club crowds and catchy, crunchy riffs, Suck’s my kind of pop-sexy bloodlustin’ playlist. Miss Paré, my emo-hypnotic Queen Of The Damned.
Poultrygeist: Night of the Chicken Dead
Fact: Troma’s most accomplished satire is about a fast food restaurant built atop an ancient Native American burial ground. Slaughtered chickens demand revenge, customers/employees start transforming into zombified alien cluckers, and environmental commentaries fueled by corporate greed come in musical packages. Character names all reference famous in-and-out burger joints (Wendy and Arbie). Bodies sizzle in hot fryer oil or churn through a meat grinder as the uncooked poultry of American Chicken Bunker make use of any and all available kitchen machinery. Oh yeah, this is full-on Troma campiness doused in finger-lickin’ vats of gooey goodness.
Skimming Wikipedia’s plot synopsis of Poultrygeist: Night Of The Chicken Dead is a literary delight, full of boggling winners like this sentence: “They run out of beer and are saved by Hummus (who is still alive, despite having exploded a few minutes earlier).” Logic dissipates whenever Troma is involved, but Poultrygeist is a special kind of “no fucks given.” Coarse rhetoric hides not from political incorrectness, but Troma surprisingly stays fixated on crudely boxed messages while getting sewer-grade sloppy. Everything from businessmen crapping out mutant chicken eggs to inerts being pulled straight out of body cavities. An immediate failing grade from any health department, but horror fan reactions detail their passing acceptance. Who doesn’t love a heartwarming, gory musical that amplifies the most Tromafied lyrics imaginable, unafraid to mutilate without mercy (and serve it up fresh)?
The Devil’s Carnival/Alleluia! The Devil’s Carnival
From the creators of Repo! The Genetic Opera comes a carnivalesque war between Heaven and Hell serenaded by sad clowns, angelic protectors, even Lucifer himself. Darren Lynn Bousman directs both unholy operas, each penned by Terrance Zdunich who doubles as The Devil’s vessel. Wait, “both” films? I’m cheating because the indies listed above play back-to-back (unfortunately trilogy plans don’t seem likely to reanimate). Admittedly, The Devil’s Carnival hits upon my oddest intersecting interests between horror musicals, big-top damnation, and, yes, Hell represented as a three-ring freakshow of deviants. Heaven’s a lot glitzier in Alleluia! The Devil’s Carnival, but not without blasphemous depictions of corruptions upstairs.
Performers range from motormouth rappers to German megastars to classical goth-punk icons. Paul Sorvino as an illustrious God, Ivan Moody a somber hobo storyteller, Emilie Autumn, David Hasselhoff, Tech N9ne, Marc Senter, Zdunich’s bellowing broiler of a voice, and many more lend their chords to a sometimes Vaudevillian, exquisitely deranged biblical sideshow. Sean Patrick Flanery, Bill Moseley, Barry Bostwick, Briana Evigan, Jessica Lowndes, Kristina Klebe – noteworthy genre talents you’ve seen before, doo-wopping and lamenting to a chorus of eternal judgment. Underseen, underrated, and in need of a closing third act!
Attack of the Killer Tomatoes!
John De Bello’s 1978 weaponization of plump garden produce is, to this day, one of the strangest exercises in late-night camp. Barely a horror movie, minimally a musical, but this “Hitchcockian” riff by way of David Zucker spoofs is too unconventional to ignore. If birds can be scary, why can’t tomatoes? Cue scene after scene of increasing-with-size tomato props rolling after their victims like beach balls in the wind. Chaos and calamity in the form of scale city models burning while street riot footage intercuts live action. There’s a *real* helicopter crash left edited in – no injuries – so some realistic destruction flashes even for a split-second, but “attacks” aren’t ever more vicious than tomatoes stop-motion rolling over deceased grocery store patrons.
Surprise: that’s the charm of Attack Of The Killer Tomatoes!
Understand that De Bello’s execution never replicates Airplane! or The Naked Gun, nor does it recreate The Birds in vegetative form. What does it do, then? Cobble together a deceptively entertaining threat against humanity on the thinnest of budgets and premise. Gags like “master of disguise” Sam Smith – introduced wearing novelty glasses with a fake nose – who’s seen sitting around an enemy campfire in a full tomato suit. An ongoing theme of selling marketing space starts in the credits – “This Space For Sale” instead of a title card – and continues in song form. “Hammy” doesn’t even begin to describe the slapstick yucks De Bello and company strive for (cut to one official calling another a “wiener” as actual dialogue), but that’s what makes this scrappy underdog such an underestimated horror comedy musical (if you’re willing to laugh at Olympic swimmers batting away lobbed-from-off-screen tomato balls).
Proceed with caution those in need of structure, unnoticeable ADR, sharp scripts, challenging content, and everything else you might expect from a more serious endeavor. That’s not this juicy, not-quite-ripe hilarity. For the better.
Dead & Breakfast
Matthew Leutwyler’s Dead & Breakfast comes with a caveat because it isn’t a traditional musical. The film’s only performer is Zach Selwyn’s narrator/gas station attendant Randall Keith Randall. As six friends – including Jeremy Sisto, Oz Perkins, and Gina Philips – stop off in Lovelock for the night, Mr. Randall’s country twang ensemble sing about the zombie possession outbreak that unfolds. Storytelling through All-American pickin’ until Randall Keith Randall himself becomes zombified, then his style turns straight “hick-hop.”
Did I mention this movie randomly includes Jeffrey Dean Morgan as the town sheriff? David Carradine as “creepy bed and breakfast owner with secrets?” Portia de Rossi? Diedrich Bader? Beheadings, graveyard bone rituals and lots of squeamish practical zombie carnage? An entire undead line dance as Randall raps “We’re Comin’ To Kill Ya” before an all-out genre onslaught? Dead & Breakfast is a goofball horror-musical-comedy that serves it up greasy and chicken fried. Maybe not everyone’s speed, but Leutwyler’s recipe is my kind of junky genre comfort dish. Major stress on the “comedy” classification amidst gruesomeness, calling back to Peter Jackson’s early work.
With there being an overlap between wrestling fans and horror fans, it only made sense for WWE Studios to produce See No Evil. And much like The Rock’s Walking Tall and John Cena’s The Marine, this 2006 slasher was designed to jumpstart a popular wrestler’s crossover career; superstar Glenn “Kane” Jacobs stepped out of the ring and into a run-down hotel packed with easy prey. Director Gregory Dark and writer Dan Madigan delivered what the WWE had hoped to be the beginning of “a villain franchise in the vein of Jason, Freddy and Pinhead.” In hindsight, See No Evil and its unpunctual sequel failed to live up to expectations. Regardless of Jacob Goodnight’s inability to reach the heights of horror’s greatest icons, his films are not without their simple slasher pleasures.
See No Evil (previously titled Goodnight and Eye Scream Man) was a last gasp for a dying trend. After all, the Hollywood resurgence of big-screen slashers was on the decline by the mid-2000s. Even so, that first Jacob Goodnight offering is well aware of its genre surroundings: the squalid setting channels the many torturous playgrounds found in the Saw series and other adjacent splatter pics. Also, Gregory Dark’s first major feature — after mainly delivering erotic thrillers and music videos — borrows the mustardy, filthy and sweaty appearance of Platinum Dunes’ then-current horror output. So, visually speaking, See No Evil fits in quite well with its contemporaries.
Despite its mere setup — young offenders are picked off one by one as they clean up an old hotel — See No Evil is more ambitious than anticipated. Jacob Goodnight is, more or less, another unstoppable killing machine whose traumatic childhood drives him to torment and murder, but there is a process to his mayhem. In a sense, a purpose. Every new number in Goodnight’s body count is part of a survival ritual with no end in sight. A prior and poorly mended cranial injury, courtesy of Steven Vidler’s character, also influences the antagonist’s brutal streak. As with a lot of other films where a killer’s crimes are religious in nature, Goodnight is viscerally concerned with the act of sin and its meaning. And that signature of plucking out victims’ eyes is his way of protecting his soul.
Image: The cast of See No Evil enters the Blackwell Hotel.
Survival is on the mind of just about every character in See No Evil, even before they are thrown into a life-or-death situation. Goodnight is processing his inhumane upbringing in the only way he can, whereas many of his latest victims have committed various crimes in order to get by in life. The details of these offenses, ranging from petty to severe, can be found in the film’s novelization. This more thorough media tie-in, also penned by Madigan, clarified the rap sheets of Christine (Christina Vidal), Kira (Samantha Noble), Michael (Luke Pegler) and their fellow delinquents. Readers are presented a grim history for most everyone, including Vidler’s character, Officer Frank Williams, who lost both an arm and a partner during his first encounter with the God’s Hand Killer all those years ago. The younger cast is most concerned with their immediate wellbeing, but Williams struggles to make peace with past regrets and mistakes.
While the first See No Evil film makes a beeline for its ending, the literary counterpart takes time to flesh out the main characters and expound on scenes (crucial or otherwise). The task requires nearly a third of the book before the inmates and their supervisors even reach the Blackwell Hotel. Yet once they are inside the death trap, the author continues to profile the fodder. Foremost is Christine and Kira’s lock-up romance born out of loyalty and a mutual desire for security against their enemies behind bars. And unlike in the film, their sapphic relationship is confirmed. Meanwhile, Michael’s misogyny and bigotry are unmistakable in the novelization; his racial tension with the story’s one Black character, Tye (Michael J. Pagan), was omitted from the film along with the repeated sexual exploitation of Kira. These written depictions make their on-screen parallels appear relatively upright. That being said, by making certain characters so prickly and repulsive in the novelization, their rare heroic moments have more of an impact.
Madigan’s book offers greater insight into Goodnight’s disturbed mind and harrowing early years. As a boy, his mother regularly doled out barbaric punishments, including pouring boiling water onto his “dangling bits” if he ever “sinned.” The routine maltreatment in which Goodnight endured makes him somewhat sympathetic in the novelization. Also missing from the film is an entire character: a back-alley doctor named Miles Bennell. It was he who patched up Goodnight after Williams’ desperate but well-aimed bullet made contact in the story’s introduction. Over time, this drunkard’s sloppy surgery led to the purulent, maggot-infested head wound that, undoubtedly, impaired the hulking villain’s cognitive functions and fueled his violent delusions.
Image: Dan Madigan’s novelization for See No Evil.
An additional and underlying evil in the novelization, the Blackwell’s original owner, is revealed through random flashbacks. The author described the hotel’s namesake, Langley Blackwell, as a deviant who took sick pleasure in defiling others (personally or vicariously). His vile deeds left a dark stain on the Blackwell, which makes it a perfect home for someone like Jacob Goodnight. This notion is not so apparent in the film, and the tie-in adaptation says it in a roundabout way, but the building is haunted by its past. While literal ghosts do not roam these corridors, Blackwell’s lingering depravity courses through every square inch of this ill-reputed establishment and influences those who stay too long.
The selling point of See No Evil back then was undeniably Kane. However, fans might have been disappointed to see the wrestler in a lurking and taciturn role. The focus on unpleasant, paper-thin “teenagers” probably did not help opinions, either. Nevertheless, the first film is a watchable and, at times, well-made straggler found in the first slasher revival’s death throes. A modest budget made the decent production values possible, and the director’s history with music videos allowed the film a shred of style. For meatier characterization and a harder demonstration of the story’s dog-eat-dog theme, though, the novelization is worth seeking out.
Jen and Sylvia Soska, collectively The Soska Sisters, were put in charge of 2014’s See No Evil 2. This direct continuation arrived just in time for Halloween, which is fitting considering its obvious inspiration. In place of the nearly deserted hospital in Halloween II is an unlucky morgue receiving all the bodies from the Blackwell massacre. Familiar face Danielle Harris played the ostensible final girl, a coroner whose surprise birthday party is crashed by the resurrected God’s Hand Killer. In an effort to deliver uncomplicated thrills, the Soskas toned down the previous film’s heavy mythos and religious trauma, as well as threw in characters worth rooting for. This sequel, while more straightforward than innovative, pulls no punches and even goes out on a dark note.
The chances of seeing another See No Evil with Kane attached are low, especially now with Glenn Jacobs focusing on a political career. Yet there is no telling if Jacob Goodnight is actually gone, or if he is just playing dead.
Image: Katharine Isabelle and Lee Majdouba’s characters don’t notice Kane’s Jacob Goodnight character is behind them in See No Evil 2.
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