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Larry Cohen’s ‘A Return to Salem’s Lot’ and Its Surprising Parallels to ‘Midsommar’ [Editorial]

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Movies about know-it-all urbanites who travel to a strange place and get what’s (violently) coming to them are nothing new in the horror world. You can trace the roots at least as far back as Jonathan Harker’s naive journey into the mountains of Transylvania, where the locals all warned him away from the Borgo Pass – and especially Dracula’s Castle – only to see him wander off anyway, in search of wealth. He got what was coming to him.

The problem with stories like that, today, is that we live in a world where people have seen horror movies. So we have at least a passing awareness that if we go to a weird place full of cultists, we should be on the lookout for red flags. That’s why a film like Ari Aster’s Midsommar, about a group of Americans who wander into an ancient Swedish festival where death is foreshadowed everywhere you look, has to come up with a clever way to keep the heroes in harm’s way without making them look like total idiots.

The conceit writer/director Aster settled on was to make his most of his protagonists anthropology students, who are so fascinated by the strange and sometimes horrifying society in which they find themselves that they feel compelled to catalogue it instead of running away. Their need for knowledge overshadows their urge for self-preservation. They’re not exactly “wise,” but at least we understand what drives them to stay in this creepy town where everyone keeps disappearing under mysterious circumstances and the murals on every wall tell a scary story about what fate will befall our heroes.

Not to take anything away from Aster, who is as noteworthy a horror auteur as any filmmaker to come along in the last several years, but that right there is a storytelling device which will be very familiar to anyone who saw and respected Larry Cohen’s A Return to Salem’s Lot.

Which is, admittedly, not many people.

Cohen, the writer/director of horror classics like It’s Alive and Q The Winged Serpent, was enlisted to make a sequel to Salem’s Lot, Tobe Hooper’s successful mini-series adaptation of Stephen King’s classic vampire novel, and that’s what he did… kind of. Cohen abandoned the plot and obvious sequel tease from the original in favor of an all-new story about a community of vampires living in secret in New England, having arrived just before the Mayflower, and having achieved in the centuries that followed a secretive, uneasy equilibrium with the rest of American society.

The story kicks off with anthropologist Joe Weber (Michael Moriarty) in the middle of the jungle, witnessing a human sacrifice and feeling absolutely nothing about it. His cameraman is shocked and horrified but Joe argues that if the situation were reversed, and this culture saw what Americans did to their own criminals, they would be equally repulsed. It’s the exact same argument Christian (Jack Reynor) makes to Dani (Florence Pugh) after they witness a ritualistic suicide in Midsommar. Who are we to judge, when morality itself is relative?

That’s a mentality that gets explored in both Midsommar and A Return to Salem’s Lot, but Cohen’s film is more confrontational about it. Joe returns to America to take care of his son, who has severe discipline problems, and takes him to a house he inherited up in Salem’s Lot. While there they notice that there’s hardly anyone around in the day, and the whole place lights up at night. Nothing suspicious here!

When a group of punks get pulled over by the cops and attacked by the local vampires, the survivor escapes to Joe’s house and the three of them visit Judge Axel (Andrew Duggan), who whisks her away to be killed, and sends Joe’s son Jeremy (Ricky Addison Reed) off to a local wedding along with a girl who is seemingly his age named Amanda (Tara Reid, in her motion picture debut).

Ordinarily a film about “normal” people finding their way into a cultlike, terrifying community would take its sweet time before revealing the horrible truth. Midsommar certainly does. But Larry Cohen isn’t interested in the inevitable reveal; he’s interested in the conversation that comes after all the secrets are out in the open. So at a very early point in A Return to Salem’s Lot the curtain gets raised. Joe finds out the town is full of vampires, that the woman he saved is being killed by little old lady vampires in the kitchen. Even Jeremy finds out the truth, when the wedding is revealed to be between two kids who, as vampires, are presumably much older than they look.

In Midsommar, the anthropology angle is largely an excuse to keep the protagonists in a scary place long after common sense would make them want to leave. (Ari Aster even said so.) But in A Return to Salem’s Lot, anthropology is the entire point of the story. The vampires in Salem’s Lot brought Joe here, specifically, to write about their culture and give it the objective respect they think it deserves after centuries of non-stop demonization. They don’t want to hurt Joe or his son, they want them to be happy here, to only see the best in them. They may be vampires, but they can’t be ALL bad… can they?

The vampires tempt both the Weber men with romantic attachments, and Joe – being morally compromised from the get-go and willing to forgive anything if he can rationalize it – quickly starts having an illicit, creepy affair with a teenage-looking vampire. That’s another parallel with Midsommar, where the looser morality of this new culture gives the morally ambiguous male lead, Christian, an excuse to engage in sexual activities that would be completely inexcusable in any other environment, and in which he only engages now because this new culture permits it.

This culture is bloody and disgusting and flies in the face of every moral stance in western culture, but who are we to judge, A Return to Salem’s Lot asks? Isn’t their culture as valid as any other? Do they not deserve to live and love and to be part of this world? It’s a disturbing question that Ari Aster raises and never really comes back around to, but which Cohen answers, extremely clearly, halfway through the film when acclaimed director Samuel Fuller shows up, chomping a cigar, and looking for Nazis.

That’s right, the director of classic, no-punches-pulled motion pictures like Shock Corridor and The Naked Kiss plays a Nazi-hunting vigilante who, upon discovering that Salem’s Lot is full of vampires, proceeds to physically knock some sense into the whole Weber family. He slaps Jeremy around until he stops screaming his brainwashed rationalizations and convinces Joe they have to kill all the vampires, because there’s no damned academic excuse for killing anybody. You can argue the moral grey areas all you want but on some level, Cohen’s film argues that you have to draw the line and say “That’s not a culture, that’s just an excuse for mass murder.”

Actually, it’s an excuse for a lot more. Over the course of A Return to Salem’s Lot we learn more and more about vampire culture, including the fact that they employ “drones” (a term which, we learn, is considered racially-charged) to protect them during the day. This underclass is completely trapped by social subjugation and, often, physical abuse. It’s no coincidence that the vampires are revealed to be colonial Americans, and that many of them probably came over in those early days of western expansion. A Return to Salem’s Lot draws a clear connection between vampirism and the evils of manifest destiny and slavery, and directly accuses the rich and powerful, today, of profiting off of the abuse, dehumanization and murder of other human beings for centuries.

In other words, in A Return to Salem’s Lot, we are told to think of vampires as a legitimate, valid culture. Then we are told that they are not, that they are as bad as the Nazis, but that they also represent the founding fathers of America. That’s exceptionally heavy stuff for a low budget sequel to a TV mini-series that barely got released in theaters and which almost nobody remembers today. And it’s arguably more challenging – from anthropological and an ethical perspective – than Midsommar, at least as far as this subplot goes.

The problem with A Return to Salem’s Lot is that, no matter how intelligent its ideas are and no matter how fascinating its structure is, it’s not a very well made film. The cast is incredibly uneven, with Ricky Addison Reed shouting almost all of his lines and Michael Moriarty – a Larry Cohen regular, and normally an excellent actor – shouting all his own lines back, presumably to compensate for Reed’s strangely boisterous energy. The makeup effects are sometimes laughable, and the whole movie is too danged slow for its own good. There’s a reason most people have never heard of it. Midsommar is the superior visceral and emotional experience, that’s for sure, with more skillful cinematography, pacing and mood, and exceptional performances across the board.

But A Return to Salem’s Lot has something Midsommar doesn’t, and that’s a certain narrative daring. Midsommar falls into very familiar rhythms, evoking genre mainstays like The Texas Chain Saw Massacre and The Wicker Man and sometimes practically to the letter. Cohen’s film eschews all audience expectation and travels into more intellectual, unexpected narrative directions, with big ideas that warrant lengthier discussion than one might normally expect from a forgotten, neglected Stephen King sequel that has nothing to do with the original novel.

And of course, it gave us Samuel Fuller as a cigar-chomping, Nazi-killing vampire hunter, all grumpy and self-assured, half-funny and all badass. Midsommar, for all its fineries, for all its horrors, cannot make that claim. And that, surely, is to its (relatively minor) detriment.

William Bibbiani writes film criticism in Los Angeles, with bylines at The Wrap, Bloody Disgusting and IGN. He co-hosts three weekly podcasts: Critically Acclaimed (new movie reviews), The Two-Shot (double features of the best/worst movies ever made) and Canceled Too Soon (TV shows that lasted only one season or less). Member LAOFCS, former Movie Trivia Schmoedown World Champion, proud co-parent of two annoying cats.

Editorials

The 10 Scariest Moments in the ‘Ghostbusters’ Movie Franchise

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scariest Ghostbusters

WARNING: The following contains mild spoilers for the Ghostbusters franchise. 

Yes, Ghostbusters is a horror movie – gateway horror to be exact. Setting aside the fact that the title literally contains the word “ghost,” a foundational element of the scariest genre, the franchise follows a group of paranormal researchers who battle entities attacking from beyond the grave. After countless rewatches, the classic films and newer sequels may not scare us much anymore, but how many times have we as genre fans asserted that a film does not have to be “scary” to be considered horror?

Genre classification is nebulous and any film that centers on ghosts has a place in the sprawling house of horror. Yes, it’s true that most viewers over the age of thirteen will find more to laugh about than scream while watching a Ghostbusters film, but each entry contains a handful of terrifying moments. With Gil Kenan’s Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire uniting three generations of the parascientific warriors, perhaps it’s time to highlight the most frightening moments from each phase of this legendary franchise. 


Ghostbusters (1984)

A Haunted Library

scariest Ghostbusters movie

Ivan Reitman’s original film begins with a campfire tale come to life. We follow an unsuspecting librarian as she ventures deep into the stacks to reshelve a book. With her hair blowing from a spectral breeze, we watch a hardcover float across the aisle to the opposite shelf. A second book follows, but the librarian remains unaware. She finally notices the disturbance when card catalog drawers open on their own spewing cards into the air like literary geysers. She flees through the maze of narrow stacks only to come face to face with a mysterious force who blows her back with a powerful roar. We won’t see the Library Ghost (Ruth Oliver) until a later scene, but this introduction firmly positions the film that follows in the world of horror. On first watch, we can only speculate as to the ghost’s malevolence and whether or not the librarian has survived the encounter. It’s the perfect introduction to a world in which ghosts are not only real, they will pounce on unsuspecting humans at the drop of a … book. 

Shaky Ground

The original finale may not be the film’s most terrifying moment, but it has become the franchise’s most iconic image. When faced with choosing a form for Gozer (Slavitza Jovan), Ray Stantz (Dan Aykroyd) inadvertently conjures up an image from his childhood. Moments later, a set of once-cheery eyes peer through the skyscrapers. The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man towers over the city, stomping and destroying everything in its path. While there’s definitely something terrifying about a jovial mascot turned deadly killer, what happens moments before is arguably scarier. 

The Ghostbusters arrive at the luxury apartment building to throngs of adoring fans. Peter Venkman (Bill Murray) plays into this hero-worship and promises an easy solution to a supernatural problem. But before they can enter the building, lightning strikes the upper floors sending massive chunks of brick and cement raining down on the barricaded street. The ground begins to shake and a giant fissure swallows the entire team. It’s a destabilizing moment made all the more terrifying by its shocking reality. Speculation about the existence of ghosts may vary from person to person, but there’s no doubt that sinkholes are very real. It’s entirely possible that the ground we’re standing on right now could spontaneously begin to crumble, sucking us down into a seemingly bottomless void beneath the earth. 


Ghostbusters II (1989)

Runaway Baby

Ivan Reitman’s sequel begins with a sly update on the life of a beloved character as Dana Barrett (Sigourney Weaver) pushes a baby carriage containing her infant son Oscar (Henry and William Deutschendorf). When last we saw the attractive cellist, she was kissing Venkman in the wreckage of Gozer’s demise and the thought of this loveable lady’s man becoming a father may be more nerve-wracking than anything contained in the first film. We never learn much about Oscar’s real father, but we do discover that fate has a sinister plan for the adorable child. While Dana chats with her landlord, Oscar’s carriage rolls a few feet away. Dana reaches for the handle, but the buggy begins speeding down the sidewalk careening through the busy crowds. As if guided by unseen hands, the carriage twists and turns, then abruptly swerves into oncoming traffic. Cars honk and veer out of the way, but the racing carriage marks a collision course with an approaching bus. The wheels screech to a halt moments before what would surely be a deadly crash and Dana rushes to embrace her vulnerable child. This harrowing scene is likely to terrorize any parent who’s experienced the fear of trying to protect a baby in an unpredictable world.  

Sewer Screams

scariest Ghostbusters scene

While investigating the second film’s primary villain, Vigo the Carpathian (Wilhelm von Homburg), three of the Ghostbusters venture into the sewers hoping to find a growing river of slime. Ray, Winston (Ernie Hudson), and Egon (Harold Ramis) trek down an abandoned subway line while speculating about the hordes of cockroaches and rats they hear scurrying behind the walls. These vermin may be scary, but there are more malevolent monsters lurking in the dark. Ray and Egon both amuse themselves with the tunnel’s echo but Winston’s “hello” goes unanswered. Moments later, a demonic voice bellows his name from the dark end of the corridor. Waiting behind him is a severed head floating in the empty tunnel. As he tries to retreat, the team finds themselves surrounded by dozens of ghoulish heads that disappear faster than they materialized. Moments later, a ghostly train hurtles towards them, swallowing Winston in its spectral glow. Egon theorizes that something is trying to keep them from reaching their destination with effective scares designed to frighten the Ghostbusters and audience alike.  


Ghostbusters (2016)

Haunted Basement

Like its predecessor, Paul Feig’s remake opens with a spooky vignette. Garrett (Zach Woods) gives a tour of the Aldridge Mansion, a 19th century manor preserved in the middle of the busy city, and walks visitors through a troubling history of excess and cruelty. Hoping to inject a bit of excitement, he pauses near the basement door and tells the horrifying story of Gertrude Aldridge (Bess Rous), a wealthy heiress who murdered the house’s many servants. Hoping to avoid a public scandal, her family locked her in the basement and her restless spirit can still be heard trying to escape. Garrett triggers a trick candlestick to fly off the shelf, hinting at the spirit’s presence, but a late night incident shows that the deceased murderess may actually be lurking in her ancestral home. While closing up for the night, Garrett hears ominous noises from behind the barricaded door and watches the knob rattle against the heavy locks. An unseen attacker hurls him through the house and eventually drives him down the basement stairs to a sea of green slime pooling on the floor. The stairs crumble leaving the tour guide hanging on to the door frame for dear life as a spectral figure glides toward him with menacing hands outstretched. Once again, we won’t see the fully revealed ghost of Gertrude Aldridge until later in the film, but this terrifying opening sets the stage for a dangerous showdown with an army of the dead.

Mannequin On the Move

The scariest moment of the 2016 remake is arguably the vicious online hatred sparked well before the film’s release. In response to brutal comments posted to the first official trailer, the cast returned to film an additional scene in which they react to dehumanizing negativity. But another sequence may cut closer to the heart of this upsetting experience. The Ghostbusters respond to a call at a concert venue and split up to cover more ground. Patty (Leslie Jones) enters what she calls a “room full of nightmares” and immediately reverses course to avoid a multitude of mannequins stacked haphazardly in the dark. As she walks out the door, one of the faceless creatures turns its head her way. Walking on its own, this sentient prop follows her down the hall, pausing the moment she turns around. Eventually breaking cover, the mannequin chases Patty down the hall to the rest of the team. They unleash their proton packs and make quick work of the gargoyle-like ghost. Though this connection is surely unintentional, it’s a terrifying parallel to a faceless monster sneaking up to attack a woman simply trying to do her job. 


Ghostbusters: Afterlife (2021)

Smoke and Monsters

While Ghostbusters: Afterlife is nowhere near as scary as the horror films playing in the local summer school science class, Jason Reitman’s legacyquel does contain its share of frights. The film opens with a harrowing scene as we join Egon (Oliver Cooper) in the last moments of his life. Racing away from a sinister mountain, Egon’s truck collides with an unseen force and flips upside down in a field of corn. The elderly scientist races back to his crumbling farmhouse with a trap in hand, intent on ensnaring this invisible being. Unfortunately, the power fails and Egon has no choice but to hide the trap under the floorboards and wait. He sits in a comfortable old chair as a horrifying cloud of smoke drifts in behind him, momentarily forming the shape of a fanged beast. Demonic hands grab him from within the chair, likely causing the heart attack that will be listed on his death certificate. But his abandoned PKE meter below the chair activates, reminding us that Egon may be deceased, but he is far from gone.  

The Terror Returns

scariest Ghostbusters moments

Ghostbusters: Afterlife turns out to be a touching tribute to Harold Ramis as his friends and family unite to complete the beloved scientist’s heroic mission. In addition to a tearjerker ending, Reitman also includes a bevy of callbacks to the original film. Not only do the Spenglers square off against the team’s first enemy, Gozer (Emma Portner), the nonbinary entity brings back the Terror Dogs that once possessed Dana Barret and Louis Tully (Rick Moranis). These demonic beasts first rear their ugly heads while Gary Grooberson (Paul Rudd) stops by Walmart to buy a midnight snack. While the horde of mini marshmallow men are eerie in their gleeful self-destruction, the ghostly canine that chases him through the store is the stuff of nightmares. Early iterations of this fearsome creature are hindered by ’80s-era special effects, but Reitman’s version feels frighteningly real. While Gary frantically tries to find his keys, this Terror Dog snarls at him from atop his car dashboard, leaving the endearing science teacher with no way to escape. 


Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire (2024)

Frozen Dinner 

After a film set in a small mountain town, the opening of Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire takes us back to New York circa 1904. We see the fire station in its early years as a horse-drawn carriage responds to a call. Arriving at the scene, a fireman tests the door for heat and watches in horror as his hand instantly freezes. Inside, they find jagged shards of ice surrounding and piercing a frozen dinner party. Guests are posed in various states of ice-covered surprise while an eerie record skips in the corner. A figure covered in brass armor we will come to know as a Fire Master is crouched in the corner clutching a mysterious orb. When the fireman touches this rippling sphere, the frozen diners’ heads begin to explode, an ominous precursor to the chilling threat awaiting the newest Ghostbusting team. 

Lights Out

If Ghostbusters: Afterlife featured the lo-fi gear of the 80s, Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire hurls us into the future. Wealthy financier Winston Zeddemore has been surreptitiously building a new containment unit to relieve pressure on the original model along with a secret lab designed to study ghosts and haunted objects. In addition to fancy new gadgets and gear, this facility contains several captured spirits like a fanged Wraith and a speedy Possessor. Lab techs assure the astonished Spengler team that they are perfectly safe, but it seems they’ve overestimated the facility’s security. Lucky (Celeste O’Connor) and Lars (James Acaster) are studying the aforementioned orb when the power goes out, leaving them stranded in the dark with a cache of haunted objects. Not only does the ancient sphere hold a deadly spirit, the proton fields containing the captured ghosts have just been disabled. These terrifying creatures begin to drift through the walls toward the defenseless lab techs, perhaps at the bidding of an evil commander. Thankfully the generator kicks on in the nick of time, drawing the ghosts back into their cells. It’s a tense moment reminding us that no matter how charming the Ghostbusters may be, they still spend their days with evil spirits just waiting for an opportunity to wreak havoc.  


The Ghostbusters franchise excels at mixing humor and fear, practically setting the blueprint for the modern horror comedy. Moments from the original two films terrified a generation of gen-xers and elder millennials and newer iterations are currently scaring their kids. The fifth franchise installment effectively passes the proton pack torch to a new generation of Ghostbusters and we can only hope additional films will continue to induct future generations of Ghostbusters fans into the horror family as well. 

Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire is now playing in theaters. Read our review.

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