Editorials
The ‘Thir13en Ghosts’ Remake Ushered Old-School Horror Into a New Millennium [Revenge of the Remakes]
Welcome to Revenge of the Remakes, where columnist Matt Donato takes us on a journey through the world of horror remakes. We all complain about Hollywood’s lack of originality whenever studios announce new remakes, reboots, and reimaginings, but the reality? Far more positive examples of refurbished classics and updated legacies exist than you’re willing to remember (or admit). The good, the bad, the unnecessary – Matt’s recounting them all.
I am so exhausted by complaints about how the 2000s horror era was a wasteland of unoriginality and recycled cash-ins. We’ll save the post-9/11 “torture porn” discussions for another column (or when relevant here). My frustration stems from the idea that remakes were the bane of horror cinema for almost a decade. You know this, you’re here every month riding shotgun on this journalistic adventure. I mean, how can you watch Steve Beck’s Thir13en Ghosts and whine about studios rehashing older titles for a second go-around like they’re creatively bankrupt?
It wasn’t long ago that Revenge of the Remakes glommed onto The Blob, which is appropriate since Thir13en Ghosts shares similar “remake reasoning” in terms of justification (for those who need that). William Castle’s 13 Ghosts dates back to 1960, and the Dark Castle reinvigoration lands more than forty years later. Technological advancement alone brings enough validation to the table, given decades of cinematic evolution as commonplace as colorized projections. As horror fans already know, the American-Canadian aughts classic—yes, CLASSIC—challenges audiences not only through its nightmarish Black Zodiac roster but an extravagant desire to honor Robb White’s core screenplay while embracing the fiesta that is differentiation.
So crank the nu-metal, kiddies—it’s time to relive one of my favorite horror titles from the 2000s.
The Approach
The starkest distinction between 1960’s 13 Ghosts and 2001’s Thir13en Ghosts (besides that exxxtreme number inclusion in the title) is the personality of the titular ghosts. William Castle commands more of a funhouse atmosphere where mustachioed supernatural chefs hurl plates like playful poltergeists, where Steve Beck oversees a roster of wayward souls who only comprehend the calming effect of grotesque violence. The death of J.R. Bourne’s estate manager so early in Thir13en Ghosts is a tremendous contrast to Martin Milner’s Benjamin Rush, who becomes the “surprise” villain in 13 Ghosts. Writers Neal Marshall Stevens and Richard D’Ovidio adapt an original tale about greed overshadowing spectral curiosity and generate the haunted house vibes we’d expect via spiritual threats—no doubt influenced by 2001’s ability to sell the ghastliest of tormented ghouls.
Enter Tony Shalhoub as Arthur Kriticos, the remake’s patriarch who inherits his deceased uncle Cyrus Kriticos’ (F. Murray Abraham) elaborate glassy complex. Daughter Kathy (Shannon Elizabeth), son Bobby (Alec Roberts), and nanny Maggie (Rah Digga) are given a tour by Cyrus’ lawyer Ben Moss (J.R. Bourne) of this labyrinthian manor that almost resembles a functioning contraption on a massive scale. Psychic Dennis Rafkin (Matthew Lillard) sneaks into the house with a pair of Cyrus’ ghost-seeing specs and is horrified to discover all the nastiest souls they collected together are contained in the basement—until Mr. Money-Hungry Lawyer unwittingly sets them all free. Thus begins Arthur’s quest to save his family, avoid the Black Zodiac prisoners, and prevent Cyrus’ whirring, reorganizing trap of a homestead from opening an eye into Hell.
All the hallmarks of 13 Ghosts exist. Cyrus Kriticos is the Dr. Plato Zorba role, cheekily referencing Castle’s protagonist, Cyrus Zorba (Donald Woods). An estranged uncle bequeaths his homemade abattoir to an unsuspecting nephew whose poverty-stricken family becomes sacrificial inhabitants unaware of a grander ritualistic scheme. Both adolescent boys—Buck (Charles Herbert) in the ‘60s iteration—harbor an obsession with death, although Buck is more of a conduit where Bobby can be seen as a scampering victim. Buck uses the special ghost-seeing glasses to interact with floaters on a friendly level, watching headless lion tamers put on a show, while the ‘01 version drenches audiences in a constant state of unrest. Castle operates within his generational constraints to support the film’s earthly evils—Beck slices to the core of fear, still retaining that human folly but adhering to stricter, far bleaker usages of unquiet souls.
Does It Work?
Does The Angry Princess enjoy crimson tub soaks? I’m going to channel The Blob once again because both remakes succeed on similar grounds. The tethers that connect 13 Ghosts and Thir13en Ghosts are thinner than piano wire and yet hold stronger than chain links. General horror fans might not even know William Castle’s 13 Ghosts exists—or at the least have no nostalgia for the property—which permits Neal Marshall Stevens and Richard D’Ovidio a bit more freedom for original twists. There’s never a ripoff or shot-for-shot snicker. Go ahead and compare the film’s opening sequences, one a museum chat about the La Brea Tar Pits, the other a junkyard massacre with a liquid transport truck spewing blood and a magical containment unit.
One might assume going the gnarlier, more macabre horror route in 2001’s reanimation might dull the moral intrigue at stake. Steve Beck’s Black Zodiac is a lineup of monsters all primed for personalized spin-offs versus the more modestly costumed apparitions inserted via early photo-overlay filmmaker tricks. The fear is that mean mugs and destructive appetites might distract from Arthur’s familial gauntlet—tying his late wife to the Black Zodiac—but core development still centers around man’s obsession with a replaceable “something.” Money. Power. It’s all the same whether that’s Benjamin’s sleuthing for Plato’s fortune (and willingness to crush Buck in a collapsing bed device) or Cyrus’ fake-out in an attempt to see the past, present, and future using his Latin-inscribed facility. The degrees to which both frighteners lash out are on opposite spectrums, but the ending remains the same as in 2001’s finale—Cyrus’ afterlife hostages are freed from their purgatorial torment.
The addition of Arthur’s marital tragedy treads dangerously overdramatic waters, but the power of the ‘00s endures. It’s a vibe still influenced by the Wild West that is ‘90s horror with a bit more reverence. There’s a sincerity to Arthur’s movin’ on up into Cyrus’ upgraded lifestyle, but also a commitment to the graveyard maniacs that impatiently wait within. Better yet, Thir13en Ghosts understands what horror fans want and provides by any means necessary. Danger remains paramount as the invisible inmates escape their asylum walls, and locked eyes with any of Cyrus’ subjects requires immediate panic. One might lament the lack of bite in 13 Ghosts, which Thir13en Ghosts rectifies out the gate while achieving the grandest levels of scream-in-your-seat enjoyment.
The Result
I mean, Thir13en Ghosts rips or slaps or whatever the newest internet lingo might say. From the opening shot, it’s like the ripcord on a chainsaw is revved, and the gas tank never empties (ignore electric models for this metaphor). It’s what I’d describe as comfort horror not because I ever feel safe, but more because whenever I’m in the mood for some boilerplate, dictionary definition horror, Thir13en Ghosts is that stability selection. Production design goes above and beyond to ensure you feel as trapped as doomed characters. Practical effects demonstrate why flesh-and-prosthetics monsters will always be superior to animated pixels. Thir13en Ghosts is a big-budget, high-concept horror blockbuster that leaves a lasting impression. Unfortunately, its tragic $68m gross on a $42m budget is a legitimate failure of the horror community (and push towards studios striving for lower budgets with higher rewards).
Should we be surprised Greg Nicotero and Robert Kurtzman brought Thir13en Ghosts to life (er, back from the dead)? The Black Zodiac features creations that mark the pinnacle of what makeup artists and special effects warehouses had to offer at the time (and still hold up stupendously). I think of The Hammer with railroad spikes puncturing beefy biceps or The Torso, played by Daniel Wesley, a double amputee. It’s no exaggeration to dub The Angry Princess iconic with her full-frontal gashes or The Jackal legendary with his beastly savagery and that broken cage over his head as a useless precaution. Thir13en Ghosts is a showcase for cosmetic applications in the horror genre and feeds off each ghost’s presence in the same way horror fans appreciate kitchen-sink approaches like Cabin In The Woods. The Black Zodiac is some Hall of Fame composition, along with Ben Moss’ sliding-door demise where he’s halved side-to-side. The howl I let out every time Ben’s front half slips to reveal his exposed insides as the back follows shortly after is a distinct pleasure.
If you’re not into Matthew Lillard playing a smartass psychic ghost-hunter who despises jump scares despite constantly putting the see-all glasses on right in front of ghosties, I have questions. There are absolutely some quintessential ‘00s horror performances between rapper Rah Digga as the “oh hell no” nanny or Shannon Elizabeth’s older sister routine. Still, they fit within the tonality of Steve Beck’s direction. A world where discarded automobiles devour Cyrus’ lackeys like they’re eating a snack or quicksilver flares repel dead-but-furious attackers tearing fathers to shreds with berzerker abandon. So is it a peculiar choice to end the film on Digga’s character muttering jokes about babysitting not being worth her night in a madman’s graveyard zoo? I thought so until I watched 13 Ghosts go out with a wink as the haggard caretaker grabs a broom to all but confirm she’s an actual witch.
The Lesson
Stop doubting 2000s horror! We get stuck in the generalization that everything was either another futile attempt at banking on existing IPs or another Saw ripoff. Were there countless? No argument. Does that mean an entire class of horror films like Thir13en Ghosts, Stay Alive, and House On Haunted Hill (close enough) are unceremoniously lumped in as well? Every damn time. Steve Beck handles Thir13en Ghosts as a remake with a clean slate, ushering old-school horror into a new millennium with infinitely more malice but the same focus on mortal ugliness. The ghosts, after all, are just prisoners of Cyrus—aka the John Hammond of Neal Marshall Stevens and Richard D’Ovidio’s narrative.
Oh, did I not get into my rant about how Thir13en Ghosts is pretty much Jurassic Park? I’ll save that bite for another month or a Twitter thread.
What did we learn?
- The more time that passes, the more remakes can assert themselves.
- If you have Greg Nicotero working in your effects department, you’re on the right path.
- The characterization of monsters is just as crucial as your heroes and anti-heroes.
- We’re never going to forget the Black Zodiac.
- The best remakes are viewed as tributes that eventually veer down unique explorations or further enrich existing story bones.
The more I cover 2000s horror remakes, the more I’m furious over the snobbish disregard around opinions of this era’s genre output. Thir13en Ghosts is one of those titles I slam into my Blu-ray player whenever someone makes the mistake of admitting it’s a blind spot, with no fault to the new viewer. Critics and audiences turned their back on horror in the 2000s, and now’s the time for a reclamation. Start by celebrating the ones that deserve your apologies most, like Thir13en Ghosts.
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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