Editorials
30 Years of Magic: Why ‘Hocus Pocus’ Remains the Ultimate Children’s Horror Movie
Don’t believe anything you read. Hocus Pocus is a damn good movie. From its opening frame, the 1993 film contains all the magic and wonder you could want from a gateway horror movie – earning its place next to other ‘90s essentials like Halloweentown. It’s got a talking black cat, spooky spellcasting, a zombie, and three children-eating witches – oh my! Released in the height of summer (July 12), the Kenny Ortega-directed feature hasn’t lost its allure. In fact, its legacy is as strong as ever. It’s still an extraordinarily fun picture 30 years later.
Hocus Pocus endures because of nostalgia. In the era of TV reboots, remakes, and requels, millennials yearn for their childhood and a simpler time. There’s a reason we got a completely unnecessary sequel last fall. But more importantly, Hocus Pocus defines an entire generation of horror fans. For many, it was their very first spooky movie. I honestly don’t remember the first time I watched it; I only recall watching it every Halloween since I was seven. It lives next to Tourist Trap, Halloween II, and Poltergeist as my genre entry points. It made me a horror fan with its oddball humor, strong messaging about holding onto one’s imagination, and just enough darkness to worm into your brain. Screenwriters Mick Garris and Neil Cuthbert perfectly balance these elements to deliver a timeless story about youthful curiosity, the importance of sibling relationships, and the bonds of friendship.
With a score composed by John Debney, Hocus Pocus begins its tale in 1690s Salem, where a young girl named Emily (Amanda Shepherd) lives with her brother Thackery Binx (Sean Murray) and their parents. One morning, Thackery awakens to find his sister missing and a plume of purple smoke rising in the distance. “They conjure,” a friend points. Thackery makes a mad dash out into the woods to a secluded cabin. Inside, three witchy sisters Winifred (Bette Midler), Sarah (Sarah Jessica Parker), and Mary (Kathy Najimy) gather around a bubbling cauldron as they cook up a potion that will allow them to suck the lives from all the children of Salem.
Hocus Pocus is dark but not too dark. It walks the line between comedy and horror, never sacrificing one for the other. While dealing with eating children’s souls, it laces up its narrative with tongue-in-cheek jokes about a dead man’s toe and how they’re just “spending a quiet evening at home” when the torch-wielding townsfolk show up at their doorstep. Winifred, Sarah, and Mary are hung for their crimes – and the film actually shows the hanging, or at least the dangling feet. That’s rather disturbing for a PG-rated children’s movie. It’s unflinchingly unafraid to go to such an unsettling place. Even now, it’s still an image burned into my brain.
The film then jumps 300 years and picks up in 1993 Salem. Times have clearly changed. Gone are the Puritan bonnets and cockel hats, exchanged for oversized jeans, tie-dye, and sideways baseball caps. It was a time when tubular was in the vernacular among teens and boomboxes were all the rage. What was once the witch’s home, perfectly nestled in the wood, has now been turned into a museum, which shuttered due to a series of mysterious events. Max (Omri Katz) and his sister Dani (Thora Birch) have recently moved to the area, leaving behind the sun and sandy California beaches. Max plays the cynical, too-cool-for-school older brother who hates Halloween (boy, did I have such a crush on him…), while Dani loves everything about the holiday, including the Sanderson Sisters. So, she naturally dresses up as a witch for trick-or-treating.
During the first day of school, Max attends a class in which Miss Olin (Kathleen Freeman) regales the tale of the three sisters and how Thackery Binx (Sean Murray) met a fate worse than death: eternal life as a feline. “Poor Thackery Binx. Neither his Father nor his Mother nor the entire town ever knew what became of him those 300 years ago,” says Miss Olin. “And so, the Sanderson Sisters were hanged by the Salem town folk. Now, there are those who say that on Halloween Night, a black cat still guards the old Sanderson House, warding off any who might make the Witches come back to life.”
Max scoffs, claiming Halloween was “invented by the candy companies. It’s a conspiracy,” he dismisses. But the roots of the holiday stretch back to ancient culture. “It just so happens that Halloween is based on the ancient feast called All Hallows Eve,” says Allison (Vinessa Shaw), smirking. “It’s the one night of the year where the spirits of the dead can return to Earth.”
Set during the spooky season, it’s not surprising that the film, much like its contemporary Halloweentown, imparts a message about honoring the sacred holiday. Max is the skeptic whereas Allison and Dani are the believers. They fully embrace the magic and mystique. Even when we “grow up,” there’s always an element of such enchantment still buried within us. Hocus Pocus teaches that you can believe in magic at any age and you shouldn’t have to banish those parts of yourself just because you’re an adult. These messages – packed tightly inside an outlandish premise about three diabolical witches, a black cat named Binx, and a zombie known as Billy Butcherson (Doug Jones), Winifred’s lover – hits even harder these days.
When Max, a virgin, lights the Black Flame Candle, Winifred, Sarah, and Mary return from the dead and resume their plot to consume the souls of all the children of Salem. The thread of sexuality is another surprising admission – I remember thinking as a kid, “I know what a virgin is!” Don’t ask me how; I just knew. But can you imagine if I hadn’t? My parents would have had to field some really uncomfortable, embarrassing questions. Then, there’s the matter of Sarah’s overt sexuality. Not only does she have plenty of cleavage (like seriously, she’s poppin’ out!), but she seduces a bus driver and tempts young teenagers into her web. I admit, that last point hasn’t aged all that well, but at the time, I thought it was hilarious!
Hocus Pocus not only nails its humor but its musical numbers, too – in case you forgot. “The witch is back, and there’s hell to pay!” screeches Winifred in one of the film’s showstopping musical numbers. “I Put a Spell on You,” originally written and recorded by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, blows the roof off the joint at a Halloween party where Dani and Max’s parents are in attendance. “Cover your ears! Cover your ears!” the siblings yell over the din of cheers and applause. But their parents don’t take heed and instead must “dance, dance until you die!” howls Winifred, casting a hypnotic dancing spell on the crowd.
Much later, Sarah musically enchants all the children by launching into a delicately haunting performance of “Come Little Children.” The scene is as cool as it is chilling, showing all the town’s children on weary feet lumbering like zombies through the streets to the witch’s cottage. There, Winifred hopes to suck their souls and gain everlasting life. Max, Allison, and Dani impede their work, of course, eventually luring the witches to hallowed ground, on which the witches are not allowed to step. Sacrificing himself for his sister, Max downs the last potion, and Winifred has no other option than to suck his soul. But the sun inches over the horizon. In their struggle on a broom, Max and Winifred tumble out of the air and land in the grass. Winifred faceplants but continues sucking Max’s life force. Her fate is sealed, however. She’s standing on hallowed ground and quickly turns to stone. Mary and Sarah burst into glitter, as the sun’s rays pierce their porcelain flesh. What a finale!
I can’t tell you how transfixed I was by Hocus Pocus. I was not only creeped out – Billy gave me nightmares! – but giddy with dopamine. It was everything I wanted in a Halloween movie, capturing the feeling of crisp autumn days when the days grew short and the moon hung low in the sky. 30 years later, I’ve watched the film probably hundreds of times. And it doesn’t matter the time of year. Literally, I viewed Hocus Pocus just last week, and I’ll watch it again after finishing this piece.
There’s no better way to relive your childhood than watching a favorite over and over again. From the spellbook bound in human flesh to the witches’ sinister playfulness, Hocus Pocus remains one of the greatest children’s horror movies of all time. It’s still so damn magical – and practically perfect in every way.
The penultimate season of Tales from the Crypt (1989–1996) aired its first three episodes on October 31, so it’s understandable that at least one of those three stories is set on Halloween.
Sandwiched between “Let the Punishment Fit the Crime” (Russell Mulcahy, Ron Finley) and “Whirlpool” (Mick Garris, A. L. Katz & Gilbert Adler) is the most severe episode of the bunch. Maybe the entire series? William Malone and Dick Beebe’s “Only Skin Deep” traded the show’s typical sense of fun for startling amounts of bleakness and kink.
“Only Skin Deep” is, apart from the Crypt Keeper’s intro and outro, noticeably unfunny. There are no considerable attempts at making the viewer laugh. Come to think of it, if those bookends had been replaced, and there was more of a sci-fi element in the story, HBO could have easily squeezed this tale into that successor anthology, Perversions of Science (1997). In Crypt, though, “Only Skin Deep” is much too grim for an audience that had become accustomed to campiness and levity.
What makes “Only Skin Deep” feel dark, among other things, is its protagonist. Showing up to a Halloween party where he’s not welcome, and where his former girlfriend (Diane DiLasco) is attending, Carl Schlag (Peter Onorati) first comes across as your standard bitter ex. You soon realize it’s much worse than that, once Carl threatens Linda (“You know, silly me, thinking I gave you what you deserved. If I’d have done that, I’d have killed you”). Now, I haven’t forgotten that Tales from the Crypt was teeming with vile men who did women harm. Yet Carl’s brand of misogynistic menace hits differently—it borders on being too realistic for this kind of series.
Mike Vosburg’s EC-style comic cover for “Only Skin Deep”, as seen in the Tales from the Crypt episode.
Despite donning a party mask for much of the episode, Carl can’t ever mask his true nature. The invitation did say “come as you are”, after all. That inability to change and be better, however, is why Carl ends up in such a karmic predicament. His outburst of anger at the party attracts the attention of one loner partygoer named Molly (Sherrie Rose, who was also in Season Four’s “On a Deadman’s Chest”). Her bone-white, featureless “mask” and body-bag costume don’t initially register as too strange, especially on a night like this. But at a party chock-full of colorful, cartoonish, and lighthearted ensembles, it does look out of place.
Darkness attracts darkness as Carl ditches the party and accompanies the mysterious Molly to her place. Which, by the way, should have been an immediate red flag. But perhaps she’s so hot, he doesn’t seem to mind the serial killer aesthetic. Resembling a warehouse that has been converted into living spaces, but never then decorated to remove the cold, industrial look, Molly’s home (or lair) is as gloomy as this whole episode feels. It’s like the set of a grungy music video, albeit a tad cleaner. The environments in a typical Crypt episode tend to be small, overfilled, and broken-in. Warm, regardless of any weird goings-on. All that empty space in Molly’s hovel, on the other hand, elicits a creepy feeling that Carl was unwise to ignore.
Tales from the Crypt featured more sex than it didn’t, but hands down, “Only Skin Deep” boasts the steamiest scene in the show’s history. Pushing it over the line, in addition to Onorati showing bare buns and the camera never turning down one of his pelvic thrusts, is the twisted dirty talk. Carl stays in the moment, whereas Molly unleashes charged lines like “the hurt, the anger, give it to me” and “take it out on my flesh like you want to”. It’s all quite kinky, as well as tied into the story’s theme of pain.
How else “Only Skin Deep” differs from other episodes is its twists. Or rather, its lack thereof. Nothing comes as a great surprise here, particularly because the deuteragonist’s ulterior motives are so obvious. By no means is Molly a wolf in sheep’s clothing; her face is a fright mask, she practically reeks of death, and she lives in what can best be described as a serial killer’s hideout. That last-act revelation of Molly’s mask really being her face is also nothing shocking. Cleverness is certainly not this episode’s strength.
A page from “…Only Skin Deep!”, as seen in EC Comics’ Tales from the Crypt.
While “Only Skin Deep” isn’t the most universally loved episode of Tales from the Crypt, it’s an interesting preview of William Malone’s future as a director. Most notably, he went on to helm House on Haunted Hill (1999) and FeardotCom (2002), the former of which was co-written by Dick Beebe, this episode’s writer. Dark Castle Entertainment, that genre house founded by Crypt producers Joel Silver, Robert Zemeckis, and Gilbert Adler, was instrumental in bringing out Malone’s gruesome, over-the-top vision in House on Haunted Hill. However, FeardotCom and Malone’s Masters of Horror episode, “Fair-Haired Child”, are the most stylistically compatible with “Only Skin Deep”.
As one might guess, this episode is nothing like its source material. The “…Only Skin Deep!” found in the pages of EC Comics is set during Mardi Gras in New Orleans, and save for its last couple of pages, is pretty sweet in nature. There, a man named Herbert is enamored with a woman he met five years prior to the present-day story. Every year, he has come down to Mardi Gras to see Suzanne, who’s always dressed as a hag-faced witch. Well, this time, Herbert plans on popping the question and marrying someone who is, for the most part, a total stranger. Suzanne accepts his proposal, but with one condition: they stay in costume until they’re officially hitched. You can probably see where this is going…
Once they are married, Suzanne remains incognito, even when she and Herbert have consummated their vows. A semi-predictive nightmare then rattles Herbert; he dreamt that Suzanne’s real face was as wizened as her mask. Finally, in his haste to find out the truth, Herbert winds up killing his new wife. Faceless and well on her way to bleeding out, the dying Suzanne manages to say she never wore a mask.
For more traditional EC-style ghastliness, your best bet is reading the comic. It’s wickedly sad. For something less conventional, as far as Tales from the Crypt goes, the role-reversing adaptation is worth watching. It’s not the best this show had to offer, although Malone’s visual style, plus the sexual abandon, does set the episode apart. If nothing else, “Only Skin Deep” leaves an impression that, even years later, shows no signs of fading.
Season Six of Tales from the Crypt can be streamed on Shudder, starting on June 5.
Tales from Tales from the Crypt celebrates the show’s Shudder premiere by singling out one episode from each season. So don’t even think about changing that dial, boys and ghouls. More spot-“frights” are to come.
Carl discovers Molly’s collection of human ‘masks’ in the Tales from the Crypt episode, “Only Skin Deep”.
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