Census Bloodbath: Over The Hill

Year: 1985

Director: Wes Craven

Cast: Tamara Stafford, Kevin Spirtas, Michael Berryman

Run Time: 1 hour 26 minutes

MPAA Rating: R

In 1983, Wes Craven was in dire straits. His debut films The Last House on the Left and The Hills Have Eyes were artistically successful but they hardly made him a millionaire. His follow-ups were a score of TV movies and the modestly received Deadly Blessing. And in 1982, he took a bath on Swamp Thing, a mainstream comic book adaptation and an attempt to escape being pigeonholed into low budget horror. He was in dire need of a paycheck.

When the opportunity arose to slap together a cash-in sequel to one of his classic tiles, The Hills Have Eyes Part II was born. Craven has later said that he was so desperate that he would have directed Lassie vs. Godzilla.

He should have directed Lassie vs. Godzilla.

What happened was that this star-crossed sequel ran out of funding, abruptly halted shooting, and the incomplete film was wrenched from Craven. Producers papered flashbacks from the original film over most of the missing bits (though not as obnoxious a number as are present in clip show films like Silent Night, Deadly Night Part 2) and said “screw it,” releasing the Frankensteinian hellbeast onto the world without Craven’s approval.

Even with Craven’s approval, this sequel – which draws influence from the ever-popular slasher genre rather than the grindhouse spirit that birthed it – wouldn’t be any good, but by peeking between the lines we can spot the zany experiment the film might have turned out to be. The film is his only attempt at a straight, by-the-numbers slasher and it goes disastrously awry. Even at the best of times, Craven’s concepts were far from straight. So that’s how we ended up with this bizarre, piecemeal aberration:

In The Hills Have Eyes Part II, surviving family member Bobby Carter (Robert Houston) shows up for ten minutes, never to be heard from again even though it’s implied he’ll arrive to save the day. Since his family’s fatal run-in with a mutant desert clan of cannibals, he has joined a dirt biking team, for which he has invented a new brand of turbo fuel. Yeah.

He wants to try and sell the fuel at their next race, but when he discovers it’s located in the same tract of desert where his family was murdered, he has a mental breakdown and decides not to go. He leaves the team in the care of his maybe girlfriend Rachel (Janus Blythe), the now-civilized daughter of the cannibal clan.

This hasn’t happened in quite some time, so it is with considerable relish that I invite you to Meet the Meat: The dirt biking team includes Harry (Peter Frechette), the requisite prankster who kicks it first; Hulk (John Laughlin), who has a bandana and no other distinguishing traits; Jane (Colleen Riley of Deadly Blessing), Harry’s girlfriend who takes a shower; Sue (Penny Johnson) and Foster (Willard Pugh), the Token Black Couple containing the Dude Who Acts Astonished Every Time He Sees Boobs Even Though He’s In A Committed Sexual Relationship And Has Presumably Dealt With Them Before; Roy (the delightful Kevin Spirtas of Friday the 13th Part VII: The New Blood), the team leader whose body really goes with his outfit; and Cass (Tamara Stafford), Roy’s girlfriend, a beautiful blind psychic. Yeah.

This bundle of textbook slasher archetypes (minus Cass, of course) decides to take a shortcut through the desert, as they’re all running late because they forgot it was daylight savings time. Yeah. When they run out of gas, they are fallen upon by surviving cannibal Pluto (Michael Berryman), now led by his uncle, the Reaper (John Bloom). Thus ensues a night of murder, mayhem, dogs having flashbacks, and dirt bike chases through the sandy mountains.

…Yeah.

As you have probably gathered, this movie is pretty damn weird. While Craven’s supernatural-hewing instincts would lead him to create one of the most immortal horror icons the world has ever seen, this script seems to have been collected from all the crumpled balls of paper that lay scattered beneath his brainstorming desk. Mind you, there’s a lot in this film that Craven can’t be blamed for thanks to its half-finished nature (i.e. Bobby’s abortive inclusion and an extremely murky fate for Rachel, who is knocked unconscious, whereupon the script forgets about her and apparently leaves her to die), but he’s not exactly off the hook.

There’s plenty in this film that just plain isn’t very good. The pacing is maddeningly off-kilter and the main character vanishes for at least half an hour, the dialogue is stale and frequently laughable (i.e. this sick burn, used to taunt the killer out of hiding: “The Reaper sucks!”), and every single aspect of the script feels like an unpolished first draft. Which, in all probability, it was. But that still can’t excuse the frustrating inability to light the African-American cast members at night, allowing their edges to spill off into the inky blackness, leaving only leering Cheshire Cat grins behind.

And don’t even get me started on the score by Jasonsmith Harry Manfredini, who I quite enjoy, but spends his tenure here shamelessly ripping off his own Friday the 13th score. Or the escape plan, which involves lighting a ring of fire and then running through it. Or Pluto’s modernized outfit, which looks like he’s readying for a community theater production of Davy Crockett 2065.

I’m simultaneously relieved and heartbroken they never made Hills Have Eyes III, which was reportedly going to be set in space.

But for all its considerable deficit, The Hills Have Eyes Part II is more than a little fun. It’s tremendously goofy and impossible to take seriously, but coming to it as a slasher connoisseur, it’s a hoot. If you can mentally separate your expectations of Craven from the proceedings, you can kick back and gawk at the cheesy slasher mayhem, dirt biking, the awkward reveal of Cass’s blindness midway through the movie (as we’ll discover, surprise blind characters will turn out to be a kind of motif in the more lunatic Craven entries), and the fact that the dog – Beast – puts up a better offence than the humans do, even pushing Pluto off a cliff like he’s the evil queen in Snow White.

It’s a haggard morsel of a film, but plumped with some classic bad-good nonsense. And there are a handful of crumbs in the film that manage to muster up tension, largely related to the cherry red dungeon of horrors in the basement and the fact that Cass must use every sense but sight to escape her tormenters. And once the body count gets going, it rockets up at a steady clip. So even though it’s malnourished pabulum, at least it’s over quickly.

The Hills Have Eyes Part II has next to nothing to offer the civilized viewer, unless they want a more or less firsthand account of the poisonous effect of desperation and studio tampering on the art form of cinema. But while its position as a cautionary tale is stronger than its entertainment value, there are still some wisps of bizarre joy to be milked from this engine running on fumes. Don’t watch it without removing your brain and placing it on a cool shelf a safe distance from the screen. Or better yet, just don’t watch it.

Killer: Reaper (John Bloom) and Pluto (Michael Berryman)

Final Girl: Cass (Tamara Stafford)

Best Kill: Beast pushes Pluto off a cliff.

Sign of the Times: Foster asserts that it ain’t natural to be in a place without a disco. It’s probably a good thing he didn’t live into the 90’s.

Scariest Moment: Cass discovers the bodies of her friends, but she has to touch them all to “see” them.

Weirdest Moment: Dog flashback! Come on!

Champion Dialogue: “All he does is growl at rocks – his mother must be a thoroughbred cement mix or something.”

Body Count: 7

1. Harry is crushed by a falling boulder.
2. Hulk is impaled on a spear.
3. Foster is dragged under the bus.
4. Jane is hugged to death.
5. Sue has her throat slit.
6. Pluto falls off a cliff.
7. Reaper falls down a mineshaft.

TL;DR: The Hills Have Eyes Part II is an inept, slapdash cash-in sequel.

Rating: 4/10

Word Count: 1387
Reviews In This Series
The Hills Have Eyes (Craven, 1977)
The Hills Have Eyes Part II (Craven, 1985)

Census Bloodbath: Amish Paradise

Year: 1981

Director: Wes Craven

Cast: Maren Jensen, Sharon Stone, Ernest Borgnine

Run Time: 1 hour 40 minutes

MPAA Rating: R

Wes Craven directed four slasher films in the 1980’s. Two of them were forgettable piffle, and one of them changed the genre forever. Really, that’s not a bad track record. But today we’re here to talk about that fourth slasher, a little-discussed 1981 flick called Deadly Blessing.

Deadly Blessing was Craven’s third theatrical outing following the grisly grindhouse duo The Last House on the Left and The Hills Have Eyes, and it finds him flexing a lot of the same muscles he would later use to carve out the more refined Nightmare on Elm Street. Though it is notable mostly as a breeding ground for the more sophisticated ideas he would mull over in the future, Deadly Blessing nevertheless has its share of indelible horror moments.

Like that outfit. Ick.

Deadly Blessing regales us with the tale of Martha (Maren Jensen), a young city woman who is celebrating her first anniversary with her husband Jim (Doug Barr of The Unseen) in their country home. Their property is located close to a group of devout Hittites, a religious group that “make[s] the Amish look like swingers,” who have banished Jim from their town for going to college and embracing modern technology. The group is led by this father Isaiah (Ernest Borgnine), who insists that Martha, Jim, and their secular neighbors - Louisa (Lois Nettleton) and her daughter Faith (Lisa Hartman) – have been brought here by the Incubus, a demonic boogeyman he uses to frighten people into following his rules. 

After Jim mysteriously perished in the middle of the night, Martha’s friends Vicky (Susan Buckner) and Lana (Sharon Stone of Calendar Girl Murders and, you know, Sharon Stone) come to visit. Before long, the ladies and the Hittites find themselves beset by a shadowy killer. Both assume that the murders are being perpetrated by the opposite group.

But just like Lost fans, it’s dubious if they’ll ever discover what’s really going on.

The core of Deadly Blessing is 100% grass-fed Craven, from the diad of opposing mirror-image families to the callous and controlling father figure and the repressed truths in a community erupting into violence and terror. In this film, he tackles the organized religion that dominated his sheltered early life and cements in his intent to flush all the skeletons from the closet of the American family. Unfortunately, the halting, stop-and-go pace prevents the film from being thoroughly entertaining, but as an intellectual catalyst it’s superb.

Deadly Blessing teeters on a dangerous precipice between the jagged mountains of insightful fright and the loamy valley of early 80’s mediocrity. For every step up (Craven’s audacious ideas and sterling kill sequences), there is an equal and opposite slip down (low budget TV movie-esque sets, plodding conversational scenes). But we all have our flaws. Hell, I’ve seen Jason X three times. This flick certainly has its share (and damaging ones, at that), but there are a handful of moments so unequivocally stunning that I want to et the negatives out of the way right now before we push on.

First off, man oh man does Ernest Borgnine not give a crap about this movie. He goes through the motions, puffing himself up like an indignant frog, but one gets the sense that his soul has completely vacated his body and is currently 30 feet away at the craft services table deciding between a raspberry of cheese Danish. Then the film is assaulted by an opening narration so cheesy you could melt it and pour it over nachos and a smattering of gaudy effects that would hardly impress in a community theater production.

That said, if anybody wants to produce a musical based on the collected works of Wes Craven, I will buy a ticket for opening night.

But for all that Deadly Blessing feels like a low-fi slog, there’s a sinister power that fuels the horror sequences. Craven elegantly frames a chilling nightmare that directly informs his future dream logic aesthetic for Freddy Krueger’s domain, and every death hits with the impact of a cannon blast. Whether it’s the delicate reversal of the sinister William Gluntz (returning Cravenite Michael Berryman) finding a knife sheath on a window sill before being butchered, or a hideously prolonged snake attack in a bathtub, every single moment of terror excels, jam-packed with thrilling switcheroos and hair-raising layers of tension added with each passing moment. One scene in particular, a knock-out, drag–down fight between two women, is the most kinetic, fast-paced, harrowing combat sequence of the year, hands down. With its strict realism and maniacal energy, it wouldn’t be out of place in a kung-fu movie.

Every one of these sequences is remarkably crafted, proving Craven’s acumen for high-wire thrills, but they are scattered at great distances between long swaths of stuffy religious drama. Until the absolutely bonkers final twenty minutes, watching the film is akin to the experience of sitting through a History Channel documentary with shoddy period reenactments, during which random scenes from The Texas Chain Saw Massacre have been spliced in. It’s decidedly off-kilter, but the sheer power of those moments when they finally arrive is worth every politely strained second.

And though the Hittite scenes are a challenge to get through, there is at least a slight reprieve in the form of the three women, whose chemistry is top notch. There are some genuinely sweet undercurrents about the strength of female friendship and each woman has her own distinct, shaded personality. Mind you, it’s not Little Women, but Craven has always had a specialty for strong female characters and eloquently expresses that.

When it comes down to brass tacks, Deadly Blessing is certainly one of the weaker Wes Craven efforts, but there’s enough stimulating material to keep a seasoned viewer invested. If you’re a horror newbie, stick with the Nightmares and the Screams, but for anyone of an irrationally analytical bent, this flick might just answer your prayer.

Killer: [Faith (Lisa Hartman) and Louisa (Lois Nettleton)]

Final Girl: Martha (Maren Jensen)

Best Kill: [Martha is abruptly dragged into Hell by the Incubus who, it turns out, actually exists.]

Sign of the Times: Martha digs up a grave while wearing a fringed patent leather jacket.

Scariest Moment: Sharon Stone has a nightmare about a spider falling into her mouth while a grey-skinned demon caresses her.

Weirdest Moment: Faith says she understands Martha’s grief because her pet bird died once.

Champion Dialogue: “You are a stench in the nostrils of God!”

Body Count: 7; not including a snake beaten with a poker.

1. Jim is run over with a tractor.
2. William Gluntz is stabbed to death.
3. John is stabbed to death.
4. Vicky dies in a car explosion.
5. Louis is shot to death.
6. Faith is stabbed in the back.
7. [Martha is dragged into Hell.]

TL;DR: Deadly Blessing is an intellectually stimulating, if slow, early Craven effort.

Rating: 6/10

Word Count: 1161

The Hills Are Alive

Year: 1977

Director: Wes Craven

Cast: Robert Houston, Dee Wallace, Michael Berryman

Run Time: 1 hour 29 minutes

MPAA Rating: R

Wes Craven's second official film (he directed an incestual exploitation film called The Fireworks Woman under the pseudonym Abe Snake in 1975) after The Last House on the Left in 1972, The Hills Have Eyes had a lot to live up to? Would it be just as brutal and shocking as Last House? (No.) Would it have the same level of intellectual subtext? (It tried, but no.) Would it cause as much of a stir? (Well, kind of.)

In all ways, The Hills Have Eyes is just slightly less than its big brother grindhouse flick. It ended up being a stepping stone to Craven's more palatable (and more ingenious) work, but at the time all that was obvious was that it merely couldn't recapture whatever grubby magic Last House had. It's still a charming 70's horror flick, but it's really not all that good when it comes down to it.

There aren't very many screenshots more exciting than this one.

When the Carter family's camper breaks down in the desert in the middle of nowhere on their way to a vacation in California, they are dismayed to find that they are being pursued by hungry cannibalistic mutants.

Although there are many members of the Carter clan, the only important one is the acrobatic son Bobby Carter (Robert Houston) who back handsprings his way into your heart with his blonde hair and the piercing blue eyes of a Siberian husky. Also Dee Wallace (E.T.'s mom) is there too.

Remember he had this haircut a full 17 years before Justin Bieber was even born.

After their dog, Beauty (Flora), runs off and is eviscerated by an unknown assailant, the Carters realize that something may be wrong. Things begin to get ugly (Geddit? Cuz Beauty is dead.) when the mutants kidnap their infant child and crucify their father, who they captured when he was learning their history from an old man in a gas station.

After having saved his life with the best suicide prevention line ever ("Get your stupid neck out of that belt, you jackass!"), he learned that the mutants were a result of nuclear testing in the area before one of them comes crashing through a window in the best and scariest shot of the movie.

All of this combined with the eerie playful voices in the darkness actually is pretty creepy, but the goodwill the first half of the film builds up slowly peters out and turns into a boring revenge flick. Although we will always have this baby's face to delight us.

Either she's being attacked by a bloodthirsty monstrosity or she just made a doody.

There's some halfhearted commentary on the nature of family relationships, economic downturn, and the folly of the military, but that is mostly forgone in favor of gruesome fight scenes that aren't really so gruesome five years down the line from Last House on the Left. 

The real star of the show here is Pluto (Michael Berryman), one of the mutant sons of the evil ringleader Papa Jupiter (James Whitworth). Berryman was born with Hypohidrotic Ectodermal Dysplasia, an extremely rare disease that left him without sweat glands, hair, fingernails, or teeth. 

Rather than get depressed and hide himself away, he turned in an excellent creepy performance in a high profile horror flick (and has since appeared in over 90 films). Although it's perhaps a bit of a shame that he felt he was compelled to use his condition to scare people, he nevertheless became a staple of late 70's horror.

And is featured in every advertisement despite being the third least important villain. Go Pluto!

But despite two strong performances, The Hills Have Eyes is bland fare that fades almost immediately from memory. Its director, breakout stars, and 70's ambient vibe have kept it afloat all these years but out of all of Craven's oeuvre, this one is perhaps the least deserving of being fondly appreciated.

Before we wrap up here, what is it with audiences that they hate seeing dogs die? At least 5 humans get eviscerated in this film, but the only death to provoke any response is Beauty's. Is it because dogs are perceived as innocents, much like babies? This is my current theory.

Either that or we're all sociopaths.

TL;DR: The Hills Have Eyes starts off strong, but is weak tea compared to the Craven shocker that came before.

Rating: 5/10

Word Count: 757

Reviews In This Series

The Hills Have Eyes (Craven, 1977)

The Hills Have Eyes Part II (Craven, 1985)