Editorials
Revisiting William Friedkin’s Horror TV Contributions from “The Alfred Hitchcock Hour” to “Tales from the Crypt”
Filmmaker William Friedkin forever changed horror with 1973’s The Exorcist, which earned him an Academy Award nomination for Best Director. He returned to the genre again in 1980 with the Giallo-like thriller Cruising and fearlessly got weird with gory folk horror The Guardian in 1990. Fearless perfectly encapsulates Friedkin’s style and his approach to life; he was never afraid to speak his mind or direct productions too peculiar or niche for mainstream audiences. The not-so-easily defined psychological thriller Bug, and its mixed initial reception, speaks to this.
That likely stemmed from Friedkin’s upbringing and his early career start in nonfiction. Bridging his path from his earlier work in commercials and documentaries to his seminal horror effort was television. It was a single episode of a popular anthology series from a horror master that kickstarted Friedkin’s career in fiction, and Friedkin never seemed to forget it.
While the acclaimed director continued to trailblaze in film, he also put his stamp on defining horror television throughout the decades. All just as memorable and worth revisiting.
The Alfred Hitchcock Hour – “Off Season”
The final episode of Alfred Hitchcock’s suspense anthology series to ever air also marked William Friedkin’s first foray into fiction. Until this point, the filmmaker worked in commercials and nonfiction; he’d never worked with a script before or set foot on a soundstage. Showrunner Norman Lloyd took a chance on the up-and-coming director for the episode. It arguably couldn’t have been a more fitting debut for Friedkin. Friedkin frequently attributed everything he learned about filmmaking to studying Hitchcock films throughout his career.
By this stage, Hitchcock was largely uninvolved with the series, save for his trademark narration that introduced and closed each episode. Friedkin did get the opportunity to meet his filmmaking hero, though famously, it resulted in a snub.
“Off Season” was filmed on the same set as Psycho, featured a peripheral creepy motel manager, and the teleplay was penned by Psycho novelist Robert Bloch and based on the short story from Edward D. Hoch that ran in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine.
While the bookended intro/outro by the master of suspense reads deeply outdated by today’s standards, the episode’s central story remains prescient. It follows Johnny (Psycho’s John Gavin), a police officer that guns down an unarmed wino in a dark alley while on duty. Johnny’s partner questions his judgment as he stares in horror at the aftermath; Johnny insists he thought the man was a threat. He’s promptly let go from the precinct through honorable discharge, with a heavy emphasis on doubt about Johnny’s ability to handle guns responsibly.
He relocates to a small town with his fiancée Sandy (Indus Arthur). Mere days after killing a man, though, Johnny withholds critical information as he persuades the local sheriff to let him join the team. It’s the turning point that sparks Johnny’s internal conflict as he deals with the emotional and psychological fallout from his actions for both him and Sandy. Paranoia, mistrust, and unreconciled turmoil eventually give way to the grim punchline reaffirming that trigger-happy Johnny was indeed incapable of gun responsibility.
Gavin doesn’t quite succeed in conveying the depth of Johnny’s predicament, but Friedkin’s bold approach helps offset this. Johnny may not hold himself accountable for his actions, but “Off Season” does.
Shortly after working on this episode, Friedkin interviewed for a director’s gig on Gunn, based on the 1958-1961 television series Peter Gunn. The script was penned by writer/producer Blake Edwards and writer William Peter Blatty. Friedkin didn’t get the job; he was too blunt and abrasive in his criticism of the script. It was that brutal honesty that impressed Blatty, leading to Friedkin’s hiring on the career-defining feature The Exorcist.
The Twilight Zone – “Nightcrawlers”
Iconic anthology series “The Twilight Zone” received a revival in 1985, only this time, each episode would feature numerous stories instead of just one. Friedkin directed “Nightcrawlers,” the final segment in the fourth episode of season one. Philip DeGuere wrote the segment based on the short story by author Robert R. McCammon.
The plot follows a Vietnam veteran Price (Scott Paulin), who’s deserted his unit and gone AWOL. He winds up at a diner, where the story unfurls as the ghosts of Price’s past come back to claim him. Uniquely, they do so by manifesting through Price’s dreams. PTSD gets personified as horrible memories of war spill over into the waking world while Price is asleep. That eventually puts the diner itself under siege, with explosions, gunfire, specters of soldiers, and an unhinged Price pushed over the edge.
It became one of the more expensive episodes to shoot, with the pyrotechnics and stunts involved. Moreover, the violence depicted proved shocking in 1985. It also highlighted Friedkin’s fearlessness with authenticity. The tense chamber piece and explosive action ensured that while it may have alarmed viewers in 1985, it quickly became one of the most memorable episodes.
Tales from the Crypt – “On a Deadman’s Chest”
Friedkin’s next contribution to genre anthology television was “On a Deadman’s Chest,” the third episode of season four. It stars Yul Vasquez (Books of Blood, “The Outsider”) as Danny, the frontman for the rock band Exorcist. Yes, the band name is indeed a humorous nod to Friedkin’s seminal horror movie.
Danny isn’t a nice guy, though. He’s a womanizer with a vicious streak, and he’s got a massive grudge against Scarlett (Tia Carrere), the new wife to Exorcist guitarist Nick (Paul Hipp). Danny’s number one fan, Vendetta (Sherrie Rose), introduces him to tattoo artist Farouche (Heavy D), an enigmatic hand tapping artist whose hand is guided by his patron’s darkest inner secrets and tends to manifest them in disturbing ways.
The episode, penned by Larry Wilson and based on The Haunt of Fear volume 1 #12, aired in late June 1992, almost four months after Carrere broke out as ultra-cool rocker Cassandra Wong in Wayne’s World. Her Scarlett doesn’t fare as well here; in true EC comic style, she’s a victim leading to Danny’s eventual comeuppance.
Inside Exorcist jokes aside, “On a Deadman’s Chest” captures early ‘90s pop culture energy, but by way of Friedkin’s intense, almost manic sense of urgency often found in his genre output. His documentary roots play heavily here, especially in the first act, which introduces the heavy rock act and Danny’s rock star lifestyle.
All three Friedkin-directed segments represent his style and contributions to the horror genre. In other words, all are worth revisiting. You can find “The Alfred Hitchcock Hour” currently streaming on Peacock and “Tales from the Crypt” on Digital. “The Twilight Zone” is less easy to find on streaming or DVD, but worth seeking out if you can find it.
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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