masters of horro

THE SHOW: Gathering some of the most prominent names in modern horror cinema under the Showtime label and giving them 12 hour-long episodes of unrated freedom not only sounds too good to be true, it sounds like a producer’s worst nightmare to even try and pull off. But props to perpetual horror hanger-on Mick Garris for getting the job done, at least from a logistical perspective. Creatively, that’s another story. Even factoring in the outrageous expectations, Masters of Horror: S1 was a mixed bag of treats, delivering Bit ‘O Honeys when one was promised full-size candy bars. While Don Coscarelli’s Incident On and Off a Mountain Road was a promising start to the season, subsequent episodes were either interesting concepts that squandered their full potential or quite simply DOA. So who’s to blame? And why was the show successful enough with fans to earn a second season (and possible third)? Because horror fans are a loyal bunch, and the idea being witness to the resurrection of John Carpenter, John Landis or Joe Dante’s career is simply too much to resist. We want these films to be the second-coming; instead, they’re just second-rate. But that doesn’t mean they’re not good for a scare or two. Season One: Vol. 1 Anchor Bay/Starz has gone the extra mile to deliver the goods on Blu-ray, collecting three episodes per volume in a scattershot approach. First is Cigarette Burns, the episode with the best pedigree, having been directed by the legendary John Carpenter and co-written by an Aint It Cool news scribe. Hired to track down an elusive print of “Le Fin Absolue du Monde” (a title which the characters are forced to repeat ad nasuem), ex-junkie / theater owner / private detective Kirby Sweetman gets caught up in the curse surrounding the film, leading up to an orgasmic epilogue of violence. That last bit could serve as a description for practically any episode, as the series never shies away from showing the red stuff. But one expects more from Carpenter, who’s always managed to scare you shitless without getting his hands bloody. His work here is serviceable and non-distinct, while the script insists on adding needless dramatic baggage to its strong central idea. And there’s just no sugar-coating the acting, which is piss-poor student film quality. More effective (or at least amusing) is Stuart Gordon’s Dreams in the Witch House, yet another H.P. Lovecraft adaptation from the director of Re-Animator and From Beyond. A dirt poor student physics student takes a room in the only place he can afford, which just so happens to also be a portal between dimensions sporting a malevolent witch and her man-rat familiar who haunt him in his dreams. Well-acted and smartly paced, Gordon has a good thing going here with just enough Cthulu-style mystery to keep you involved. The man-rat effects are corny but creepy and a dash of nudity feeds the average fan’s more puerile interests (liberal amounts of female flesh being another component the show doesn’t shy away from).