I am a huge fan of The Munsters, and count the 60’s sitcom as one of the formative influences on my macabre-loving career. I also enjoy Rob Zombie’s music (and many of his movies), so when word dropped that he would be adapting the series as a feature film, I was definitely intrigued. But also concerned: that Zombie’s graphic and grungy grindhouse aesthetic would make for a bad mix with the innocent silliness of the original series. So I ‘ve been nervously anticipating the release of the film (now streaming on Netflix) for months. My thoughts after finally screening it here on the eve of the October holiday season:

The Look: Initially, I worried that it would feel jarringly weird to watch The Munsters in color after decades of viewing the series in black-and-white syndication. But I found myself wowed by Zombie’s visuals; the colors he splashes across the screen are eye-poppingly vibrant. The scenes set in Transylvania present a mesmerizing blend of oldtime Universal-Horror vibe and modern neon glitz. And the scattering of Easter eggs evoking classic horror films (e.g. Nosferatu) provide an unexpected treat.

The Main Cast: Sheri Moon Zombie will never be mistaken for Meryl Streep, but she’s eerily endearing here in her turn as Lily Munster. Daniel Roebuck gives a spot-on portrayal of the Count role popularized by Al Lewis; it’s Roebuck’s performance that evokes the original sitcom most closely. My biggest issue is with Jeff Daniel Phillips’ Herman. The look of the character is fine (although at times his facial expressions of dismay make him seem painfully constipated), but he fails to capture the goofy charm of Fred Gwynne (a comedic genius whose embodiment of Herman might be one of the most underrated performances in TV history).

The Plot: Much of the film is centered on the Frankensteinian creation of Herman, and his courtship of/marriage to Lily. The problem, though, is that there’s not a lot of recognizable conflict driving the action (perhaps this shouldn’t be surprising, as Zombie has never been a tight plotter as a screenwriter). There are too many superfluous characters and extraneous scenes that lead nowhere and make the film’s nearly two-hour runtime seem sluggishly paced. Also, the Munster clan’s coming to America doesn’t occur to the very end of the film, and as a result their iconic Gothic mansion barely appears (the scene of street celebration of Halloween on Mockingbird Lane is terrific, though, making me wonder if the film should have focused more exclusively on the holiday). The film’s ending, involving a sudden turn of fortune for the Munsters, is abrupt and unsatisfying. The Munsters, with its problematic plotting, seems to just stop rather than properly conclude.

The Humor: Granted, audience sensibilities have evolved since the 60’s, and the same old wig-flipping gags would feel outdated today. Still, the film’s humor (which includes a couple of questionable forays into the risque) reflects poorly on the original series. There are some chuckle-worthy moments, for certain, but never an elicitation of riotous laughter. The comedy is mostly strained, and occasionally downright lame (the ostensible jokes involving Jorge Garcia’s Floop character are painful to behold).

The Verdict: Munster purists won’t be pleased, but Zombie does deserve credit for attempting to put his own stamp on the adaptation, rather than just offering a by-the-numbers retread. His own adoration of The Munsters cannot be questioned. That being said, this vehicle (speaking of which, Zombie’s failure to feature the Dragula is surprising) proves passably entertaining at best. Unlike the classic sitcom, the film is not one that viewers will rush to re-watch over and over for years to come.

I just watched the 2021 documentary Boris Karloff: The Man Behind the Monster (currently streaming on Shudder). Any fan of the actor’s work should hasten to do the same.

The documentary doesn’t dwell on the biographical, presenting just enough detail to bring Karloff–born William Henry Pratt–to life (interestingly, he appears to have grown up in a household terrorized by a monster). Instead, the focus here is on Karloff’s professional life, an acting career that was both long and varied, featuring standout roles in film, theater, and television. The audience gets to glimpse behind the scenes of such classic productions as Frankenstein, learning, for instance, how director James Whale’s vindictiveness left a lasting mark on Karloff. More positively, viewers are shown how a Karloff TV appearance helped inspire the smash novelty song, “The Monster Mash.”

Copious clips of Karloff’s acting are included, interspersed with commentary by directors (Guillermo del Toro, Roger Corman, John Landis, Joe Dante, Peter Bogdanovich), fellow actors (Christopher Plummer, Stefanie powers, Ron Perlman, Dick Powell), and film scholars (David J. Skal, Christopher Frayling, Gregory Mank, Leonard Maltin). The documentary doesn’t just offer a career retrospective, but also an analysis of the skills and traits that led to Karloff’s acting success. For all his embodiment of monsters and menacing criminals, Karloff had an uncanny knack for eliciting sympathy and conveying elegance. Underneath all those famous makeups applied by the likes of Jack Pierce was a dedicated thespian; perhaps more than anything else, Boris Karloff: The Man Behind the Monster sketches a portrait of the consummate professional.

An endearing man who gave fearful performances, Karloff has left an enduring legacy, one that this wonderful documentary perfectly captures and will only help to perpetuate.

The Scream reboot/sequel (“requel” sounds like something you’d mix into your morning coffee) hearkens back to the original film in more than just name. This fifth installment in the slasher franchise is quite self-conscious of the dark legacy left behind by Billy Loomis and Stu Macher. The film invokes the first one in its very plot, as the latest iteration of Ghostface appears to be targeting relatives of classic Woodsboro characters. This is all extremely apropos, because the new Scream also proves the best entry in the series since the 1996 original.

2022’s Scream is the darkest in tone to date. Ghostface’s kills here are the most savage ones screened in the franchise’s twenty-five-year history (the repeated, rapid-fire knife-strikes reminded me of the stabbings often dramatized on American Horror Story). At the same time, the film is the series’ least comedic entry. This is not to say that it is devoid of laughs, only that the humor is dialed down and naturally integrated. There are no over-the-top gags or obtrusive appearances (like Jay and Silent Bob stumbling onto the scene in Scream 3).

Scream transformed the genre in the late 20th Century with its knowing appropriation and skewering of horror film conventions, and the new release continues the “meta” tradition. There is a lot of discussion of so-called “elevated” horror, including some clever reference to The Babadook. The film seems more concerned, though, with bouncing off of the in-universe Stab franchise than actual horror cinema. At least in a first viewing, the new Scream offers few of the Easter eggs (e.g. the suggestively-sweatered janitor “Fred” in the original) that supply especial visual treat for genre fans.

Of course, the film brings back its three “legacy” characters (another prominent figure from the original makes more surprising return, but this appearance might have benefited from the de-aging technology employed in The Irishman). Neve Campbell’s Sidney Prescott is now married with children, and serves as a motherly mentor to Woodsboro’s current most obvious candidate for final girl status. Gale Weathers is still a popular media personality, but her brash character gets toned down considerably here (the smartass in me wants to say this was because the filmmakers were worried Courtney Cox wouldn’t be able to emote through such plasticized mask). And David Arquette’s Dewey Riley has shed the fresh-faced doofiness at last and now sports the look of a grizzled ex-sheriff (dubbed a “shitty Sam Elliott” in one of the film’s best throwaway lines). These older characters come across as genuinely world-weary, not merely unenthused by the prospect of being involved in yet another town stab-a-thon. Their past run-ins with Ghostface have left them both physically scarred and emotionally exhausted.

To the film’s credit, Sidney, Gale, and Dewey are drawn back into the mix in an organic way (i.e. not immediately–Sidney herself doesn’t show up onto the scene until midway through the movie). This gives directors Tyler Gillett and Matt Bettinelli-Olpin the time to establish the new characters, and the investment in the younger cast definitely pays off. Anyone who has seen the previous work of Melissa Barrera and Jenna Ortega won’t be surprised that the actresses shine here as estranged half-sisters Sam and Tara Carpenter. Jack Quaid also gives a strong performance as Sam’s boyfriend Richie, as does Jasmin Savoy Brown as Randy Meeks’s genre-savvy niece Mindy.

Via the characters’ discussion of the Stab franchise, the film rightfully points out the real secret of the successful Scream formula: not all the dash and slash but rather the time-honored whodunit element, the mystery of the killer’s identity hidden behind mask and robe. When it comes to possible suspects, the new Scream casts a wide net; the new cast members are also quick to point the finger at one another. Personally, my biggest disappointment  is that I pegged the killer (or killers–don’t want to spoil anything here!) early on. Perhaps I’ve watched too many of these films too many times, or maybe I was just clued in because the film utilizes a plot point that echoes a certain standout slasher novel from 2021. I also regret to write that the film suffers from the same Suddenly Psycho syndrome that plagues the entire franchise, where the killer(s?) finally drop the facade and turn to manic ranting about their motivations. Just once I wish the unmasked Ghostface would take the laconic approach and simply state, “I did it because I enjoy killing.”

The film’s extended climax brings the franchise full circle in an overt and spectacularly violent manner, making loud callback to the original. This makes for a very satisfying ending, in terms of the plot of this individual effort and the series overall, as the emotional arcs of the legacy characters are brought to a moving conclusion. Like ex-boxing champs, big box-office horror franchises tend to make a few too many comebacks, but here’s hoping this is it for this particular series. 2022’s Scream does a fine job of honoring the late Wes Craven’s vision while also furnishing fresh thrills, so I can think of no better moment to leave Woodsboro be and let Ghostface fade away into slasher lore.