Reely Bernie Horror Fest: Double Feature!

Happy Halloween, good friends!

I want to thank Max at PowerPop for recommending It’s Alive (1974) and John at The Quick Flick Critic for recommending Prophecy (1979) as my final two horror movies to watch and review before the day of spooks vanishes into the night. It just so happens that both schlocky B movies are about the fears of childbirth, parenthood, and toxic waste. Film stocks are grainy, image overlays remind you of retro family pictures hung on brown wallpaper, the actors take themselves too seriously (hey, Armand Assante, don’t smile, or your face might crack), and the special effects entail red corn syrup and plastic prosthetics.

I asked for campy, and I got campy, and I mean that as a compliment. Where It’s Alive metaphorizes the common fear of having a baby to the fear of a mutant beast baby that goes on a killing rampage in the city, Prophecy just goes straight to the fear of Teddy Ruxpin from hell. Whether the cause of these monstrosities is an experimental drug gone bad or poisoned water, both movies make their case in an unintentionally humorous manner.

I appreciated the subtle Frankenstein allegory behind It’s Alive’s sympathetic conclusion. There aren’t many redeeming qualities in Prophecy, but the infamous “sleeping bag scene” is epic. I doubt any of you will see this thing, so I’ll explain it real quick: While a man is sleeping in a sleeping bag in the woods, the mutant beast attacks him, and the “special effects” include the throwing of a look-a-like doll in a mini bag at a bolder to watch a bunch of feathers fly in the air. It was so roughly done, it made me laugh out loud. I bet there’s a YouTube of it out there!

I should note that thirteen days ago on Oct. 18 at 8:12pm, I (unanticipatedly) delivered our baby daughter in the guest bathroom bathtub. From the moment my wife’s water broke to the arrival of the paramedics, the entire thriller sequence took 10 minutes. After just three pushes, my wife’s threshold for pain surpassed Philoctetes, and I caught a slimy baby amid the goo and the screams of two healthy but frightened ladies in my life. The adrenaline skyrocketed to shaky hands and hyperventilation. Holding the baby and locking shocked eyes with my wife, I came to realize that God gifts us with survival instincts for a reason, and, sometimes, it is simply better to just act and not think. Only, that night, we weren’t actors and actresses in a movie, and this wasn’t red corn syrup and plastic prosthetics.

Manufactured in Hollywood or far too real, fear is a healthy thing. It keeps us alert when we need to be, it keeps us entertained when we put on a horror flick, and it keeps us in a place of gratitude when we count our blessings.

Here’s to a safe and fun Halloween evening! My toddler is going to be a deer, and our newborn will dress up as a lemon. How’s that for scary?!

Peace,

Reely Bernie