When Summer Goes to Rest: A Halloween Tale

We waited the excruciating wait and watched the crawling clock. First it was morning, and then morning, and still morning, and when lunch time finally came to pass, we rushed to the school cafeteria with visions of the autumn night awaiting. We sat to plan, Cerrick and Gil and me, our attack on the neighborhood's prize, the All Hallow's reward for ambitious would-be goblins. Because one night a year...just one, and you can don the identity you always wanted, or at least the one your mother could afford, and they let you free. FREE, into the night, with the intoxicating smell of fallen leaves enveloping your senses, the sounds of screams and "trick or treat" and high pitched laughs serenading you under the orange glow of the Halloween moon.

So gathering to plan, as we did, seemed to be the only reasonable route. One night condenses into a mere few hours, and the later you start, the less treasure to show. The sting of summer's end is relieved by October's dawn, and the thought of pillowcases of candy wafting that combined uncommon scent through the early chilly nights is the first glimmer of a lighthouse until the frost of winter solstice brings the apparition of Father Christmas. Never, we used to say, underestimate the power of Halloween night, that one annual precious marriage of frost and fright.

We ravaged the tater tots and consumed the chocolate milk while mapping out our new system for covering the most all hallowed ground. The green beans sat untouched on the trays. I like green beans, but you can't eat green beans on Halloween. It's bad luck, said Gil, and I've a feeling he thought the same for the other 364 days. I drew a line through the makeshift neighborhood paper, and X marked the spot where we would wind up before the wind called us home, happy, fat on sugar and satisfied with our returns and still full of the macabre of an organic spooky dusk.

"What's this, boys? A map?"

Mr. Margot peered over his glasses at our sprawling paper, a small smile creasing the corner of his mouth.

"Yessir," I smiled. "We start here, on Hadley, and wind up at the corner store."

"Well, we may have to run home and dump pillowcases in between," Gil chimed in.

Mr. Margot nodded. "Why the corner store?"

"My sister works there," Cerrick nearly yelled, "And she is giving us a bottle of pop and a bag of chips when we're all done Trick or Treating."

Mr. Margot grinned from ear to ear. "Well," he said loudly, "Nice to see men with a plan. Halloween night...gotta be the best night of the year, right? Christmas...well, Christmas is the best DAY, right? But there is no other night like Halloween, is there?" He trailed off with that question, a faraway look in his eyes. I knew he didn't expect an answer; it was posed as a question but was given as fact.

"Good luck, gentleman. Hope you find your pillowcases full. Save me a candy bar or two for tomorrow, will ya?"

We all shook our heads yes, smiling and wide eyed with anticipation. He turned to walk away and we went back to marking our trail, but he stopped after a step or two.

"However," he said, a chill in the word. He turned toward us again and leaned down even more closely. "Remember this one thing. Don't look behind you tonight."

Gil laughed, but it was a nervous laugh, and Cerrick and I exchanged furrowed brows.

"Why?"

"Wait...you don't know this? Your parents have set you free on All Hallows Eve all these years, and you were never told?"

I shrugged.

"Mr. McDunn," he said directly to me, "You never look behind you on Halloween night. Because you might see someone who you ought not to see."

Chills filled me. I wanted to ask what he meant, but I didn't really want to know.

"What does that mean?" Gil asked, still trying to be aloof.

"Just what it sounds like. On Halloween, the curtain falls, boys. And yes, there is a possibility that you might turn to see a lost great great grandmother, or a poor, sad soul harvested too soon, but you could also see...well..."

He stood up, a big grin across his face. "Don't mind me, gentlemen. I'm just an old codger looking for a scare on Halloween. You'll be fine, I'm sure of it. But you know, there is one other thing.
I was scared to ask. We all were. But far too curious and young and fascinated to stop him from answering.

"Halloween doesn't really start until 6 PM today, when the sun starts to descend, and doesn't end until the sun sets again on November 1st. Interesting, right? That's when summer really rests. So smack dab in the middle, 6 AM tomorrow morning, that's when the spirits roam most freely. You boys don't dare to be out then, right?"

He had to have known full well that we would be walking to the bus stop in the near dark of 6 AM. He smiled. This time, it looked crooked, and he seemed mean, and his smile held no respite.

He turned quickly and walked off with a slow wave over his shoulder.

We started our Halloween intinerary at 5. Some kids ran out right after school, but no...many houses aren't ready then, and you miss out on the candy. If you want a full bounty, you must be patient. By 6:30, our map a distantly crumbled disposable floating down a side street, we had half full pillowcases and decided to stop for a review of our bags.

One house had given the practically priceless, on Halloween, premium of TWO full sized candy bars. Cerrick attempted to circle back twice to that house, claiming to be his own twin brother. It worked, he had yelled, but I saw the woman shaking her head with a laugh. We paused only briefly, wolfed down a piece of sugary delight, and resumed our pace.

By 8:30, our pillowcases were full. We were the only ones out and about as far as we could tell, and now the night, which had held an air of spooky but harmless ambience, turned colder, as if Halloween itself was beginning its own trek to winter hibernation. We began to walk more quickly as we left the corner store with the promised gifts, none of us in a hurry to depart from the group to their own destinations.

When we reached O'Brien Avenue, Gil gave us a wave and practically ran off toward his house, knowingly spilling a few small candies and pretending not to notice, darting indoors as quickly as we had started out.

The charms of the night's atmosphere had now turned to only the sounds of night itself, the wind alive, murmuring insincere warnings through the trees, bringing to life it's namesake chimes everywhere in the distance. We hurried, any pretense of courage for each others' sakes resigned in a flurry of chills and goose pimples.

I spoke first. "Hope I got a lot of Reese's," I said, half heartedly. Cerrick agreed. "I think you did. I saw Mr. Bittering throw a bunch into our bags, so at least those. But probably more."

We were silent again for a block or two, until the loud crunch of a stick behind us. We froze for a moment, looked each other in the eyes, and continued walking.

"Don't look," I said, in a voice barely above a whisper. It felt like a scream. Cerrick winced.

We took more steps. The crunching commenced behind us. We walked more quickly. Fighting the urge to look was now near impossible, the sight of my house just a block away being the only antidote. A sound like a low growl came up on our heels, and our fast walk turned into a sprint. We raced to my porch with as much passion as we had ever summoned on Halloween night.

Cerrick would still have to cross the street and down a few houses to get home, but as we stood on the porch and blinked and looked toward the place where our pursuant would have been, there was nothing. The safety of my porch had rendered the bite of windy moonlit nightfall to a still menacing but mostly unthreatening sensation.

"Do you want me to get my mom to walk you home?" I asked. He looked around. The bravado of youth was starting to return to his eyes. "Nah, I'll be ok, Cal. See you in the morning."

I nodded and watched as he stepped off the porch, his footing less steady as he hit the sidewalk. I went inside, then felt a moment of panic as I closed the door. I peered out the glass window and saw Cerrick almost to his house, but my blood ran sleet cold when I saw a shrouded figure behind him, stopped on the sidewalk, watching him. I wanted to open the door and call out, but didn't, fearing that the second lost would keep Cerrick from the safety inside. I decided instead to call him, but I watched with bewilderment as the swarthy personage, clouded by the darkness, evaporated into All Hallows Eve.

I shook my head, wondering if my mind had invented the whole thing.

Sleep was uneasy at best, every sound of wind and tree magnified outside my bedroom window. Each brush of branch was the hand of Cerrick's stalker, waking me to see what evil had befallen him. Every bark of the neighbor's dog was a caution of his presence.

In the morning, we met, the three of us, and walked the crisp parade to the bus stop together. Night's shadow was still being cast across the sun. Cerrick and Gil both seemed unshaken by Halloween's touch, and were unwrapping and eating candy bars from open zippers in the tops of their backpacks, already discussing things they would ask for on Christmas.

As we passed the crosswalk and out into the unusually quiet main road, there was a sudden screech from just behind us. A truck veered over the sidewalk, losing control and bearing down directly at us. Gil and I reacted quickly and dove to the cement, but Cerrick was too far ahead and the vehicle barreled toward him. He was stunned, too scared to move, his mouth and eyes equally agape.

Just before impact, I saw it.

I saw the thing.

The figure. It was no less visible than the night before, but no less real. It reached both hands out and shoved Cerrick back toward us, a full five feet away from where he stood just a second before. He landed hard, and the driver of the truck wiped his forehead, face now sheer white, looking as shocked as the rest of us. We saw it, the phantom figure, all of us. Unmoving, standing as straight as the night before on the sidewalk. A voice like I've never heard before or since vibrated in agreeable tones, a circular sound coming from everywhere and nowhere at once, and spoke only two words: Not today.

With purpose, I looked down at my watch. The final seconds of 6:00 A.M. were ticking down.

Cerrick's dark preserver vanished, dissolving with a wisp into soft remnants like onyx feathers before disappearing entirely.

Back.

Back into the veil.



                                        
                                       ---- Paul Counelis

The Greatest Horror Movie Ever Made: The Case For THE TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE

In honor of the passing of legendary director TOBE HOOPER, we are presenting a chapter from the book THE GREATEST HORROR MOVIE EVER MADE. Author and Rue Morgue columnist Paul Counelis makes the case for Hooper's magnum opus as the best horror movie of all time.

Tobe Hooper 1943 -2017

                            THE TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE (1974) Director: TOBE HOOPER

     The first time I saw The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, I was 15 years old. I hadn’t seen a TON of really dark horror films at that point; I had seen A Nightmare on Elm Street as well as most of the Universal Monsters stuff (which I was obsessed with at the time). I had no idea what to expect. To be honest, I thought it was going to be a campy B movie.

     I was wrong. To put it mildly.

     By now, most people who would really call themselves horror “fans” have seen the original ‘TCM’, and are aware of how visceral and realistic it feels. Simply put, it accomplishes that rare feat that very few horror films have. It almost seems like a documentary, like we as viewers are just flies on the wall, uncomfortably observing this maddeningly matter of fact group of cannibal hillbillies chasing a group of lost young people around their “farm”.

     Because so many are WELL aware of the Texas Chain Saw mythology at this point, I will not spend too much time talking about how little blood or gore are actually shown in the film, but its notable that the movie is remembered as being so brutal decades later. The most disturbing things captured by the eye of the camera are the bizarre moments that the family is engaged in, such as having to help their seemingly decaying grandfather hold a hammer so that he can try to hit a victim with it. Bizarre stuff that stays with you.

     Even with A Nightmare on Elm Street pretty fresh in my young mind, I really was NOT prepared for the aural onslaught that is The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. 

     Context is needed. My uncle and I had been renting films that were generally highly regarded but that neither of us had seen. This was pretty much our only criteria when we walked into the video store for the week’s selection. Our first few viewings consisted of such eye opening cinema as The Godfather, One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Close Encounters. To be sure, it was a priceless education for a teen who was pretty much a card carrying member of the church of Star Wars. I had seen plenty of good films, the early Karloff Frankenstein films for instance, but they weren’t super challenging in the most emotional ways like some of these films were.

     I feel like something changed inside me when the opening reel of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre flickered across my Uncle Tony’s TV screen. Don’t worry, it was in a good way.

     I sat in enrapt silence and with a more than a few sideways glances to see how Uncle Tony was faring with his own viewing experience. He seemed to be just as engrossed as I was watching Leatherface and his family act like maniacs to this unsuspecting group of city kids.

     Made for just over $80,000 in 1974, TCM marked the first time that I looked at a film and really realized, hey, someone MADE this. They wrote their simple story, got some people to play the parts, went out into a big house and just made their movie. I remember feeling like there was no way it should be as “good” as it was. Clearly, these were not seasoned actors with super expensive equipment and a big studio budget.

     It was the first time I thought, “I want to make a movie. And I CAN.”

     I’m sure that same realization happened to countless hordes of other TCM viewers over the years. The movie is a standing testament to the creativity and drive of its filmmakers and the actors and actresses who braved what was by all accounts a truly dreadful shoot.

     Heck, the shoot itself may have contributed to the grimy realism of the film. By now, the legendary stories of the smells, fatigue and the heat surrounding those folks while they were making the movie have made their rounds umpteen times via interviews and special features on the many home video releases. Suffice to say that some of the craziness we see captured on film was about as close to real as it gets without actually being real.

     Director Tobe Hooper has often recounted stories of how much the cast and crew resented him during the shoot. The movie they came out with suggests that their efforts were not in vain.
To call The Texas Chain Saw Massacre influential is almost an insult to the word “influential”. For dozens of horror filmmakers to come, TCM is less a film than it is a template for a certain type of aesthetic that has come to be associated with the movie and others like it.

     One so obviously influenced dude is Rob Zombie, who has seemingly made a cinematic career out of letting the TCM philosophy guide his work. The results have been mixed, but Zombie’s films have an undeniable grit that they largely owe to the TCM influence.

     It’s also fair to point out some of the TCM acting performances, which vary in terms of thespian quality, but which are absolutely indispensable to the film’s memorable imagery. In particular, the late Marilyn Burns is effective as Sally Hardesty, screaming and crying her way through the film’s seemingly prolonged climax in an excruciatingly realistic and primal state of fear and hysteria. Theories again abound that part of the realism of her performance was due to the conditions on set.

      Burns (decades old SPOILER ALERT, for pete’s sake) helped to establish an eventual major slasher film trope with her character surviving the film as a “final girl”, though she is definitely kind of just more lucky than Nancy or Laurie or Sidney, who are all kind of proactive in their survival. But give Sally credit…she keeps movin’ and keeps screamin’ until the very moment she laughs in relieved maniac manner, climbing into a random escape vehicle while Leatherface swings his chainsaw around like a frustrated dancer in a doomed ballet.

     Of course, Leatherface is another solid “pro” when keeping tabs on the TCM legacy. Gunnar Hansen helped to bring life to an enduring horror icon, playing Hooper and co-writer Kim Henkel’s hulking “Ed Gein” inspired madman. Hansen is a big reason why the film is so memorable, truth be told. He hits the right notes with his body language and the way he inhabits the face(s) mask(s). And he really is asked to do quite a bit in terms of selling the terror.

     One of the most jarring and sinister scenes occurs when Leatherface appears behind some poor fool, bops him on the head, drags him into a room and abruptly slams the door. That is a moment where we as an audience think, “Ok. I kind of don’t want to know what is going to happen behind that door. But I have to.”

     Wes Craven often cited The Texas Chain Saw Massacre as one of the best examples of watching a film that may have been directed by a madman. Craven knew of which he spoke; his own Last House on the Left still stands as one of the most controversial films ever made. It was the type of ’dangerous’ filmmaking that got both films immediately banned upon release.
   
     In multiple countries.

     For years.

     As is the case with so many immortal horror films, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre could also be held up as a reflection of the time of its release. Hooper claims that so much of the nature of the film is due to the government scandals and multiple wars of the era, where brutality and a lack of empathy were becoming the social norm. Leatherface and his loving family were characterized responses to that growing displeasure.

     One aspect of this movie which can’t be downplayed is the “score”, as it were. It is EXTREMELY important, though perhaps not in the way that the scores of films like Halloween and A Nightmare on Elm Street are. That’s because TCM features a slew of ghoulish and freaky sounds, drenched in echo and delay, often piled each atop the other like a sonic wall of brick and mortar. It is used to highly disconcerting effect. There is no escape from it within the confines of a given scene.

     Again, Roger Ebert heaped praise upon a horror film even while damning it. He grouped it with Night of the Living Dead because of its technical success, while also commenting on the negative content. He said that both films were “better than they had to be.” Which is true in the context of what he saw as B horror films created by fledgling filmmakers with no other outlets aside from horror to make movies. But it is decidedly NOT true for the millions of people who still consistently turn to those films for a good, roller coaster-like scare on a dark night. They do have to be that good.

     Which brings us to another important point…The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is scary.
    
     As with any and all horror films, the scare factor is a matter of opinion and specific to each viewer. A seasoned horror fan is just not going to be easy to scare. But when someone who is not a veteran of horror watches TCM, to this day, they are likely to be disturbed. Often, even terrified.
This is because TCM gets SO much right in terms of setting everything up. This might be due to director Hooper’s background as a documentary cameraman. Camera placement is extremely important to the success of the film’s realism, and the decisions Hooper makes put us in situations that feel claustrophobic and tense. As with Carpenter’s Halloween, an unusual number of daytime shots are initially used to set a mood, as well as adding to the desperation of being stranded with the psychotic family when night falls.

     There is really no way to overstate the importance of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre to the horror genre. Fans as varied as Ridley Scott (who claims the movie as an influence on his own amazing film Alien) and horror writing legend Stephen King defend the film as an important cultural phenomenon, and contemporaries like Carpenter and Craven (the latter of which humorously compared Hooper to Manson after seeing the film) have routinely named it as one of the most effective horror films they have ever seen.

     There is a film made before TCM that was also inspired by the Ed Gein story. It is director Alfred Hitchcock’s seminal grandfather of the slasher movie, Psycho. John McCarty, author of several excellent books covering horror directors and films, once remarked that TCM made the hotel in Psycho seem “pleasant” in comparison.

     Simply put, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre is a full on nightmare, worthy of its legendary status, and a legit contender for the title of the greatest horror film of all time.

                                               

Leatherface, "A frustrated dancer in a doomed ballet."

You can read the rest of  Paul Counelis' book THE GREATEST HORROR MOVIE EVER MADE, available now at Lulu.com, Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble

Halloween Machine's 10 BEST HORROR FILMS OF 2016

Its that time again! A fresh new year of horror ahead of us means a look back at the BEST of 2016, which was one of the very best years for horror in quite some time!!
Agree? Disagree? Weigh in by commenting!

Here we go...

THE RUNNERS-UP:
10 Cloverfield Lane - Awesome genre mash-up
Monsterland - Extremely creative anthology

Blair Witch - Divisive horror surprise
The Monster - Provocative creature feature
The Wailing - South Korean insanity
Southbound - Effective Anthology
I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House - Slow burning stylish throwback
Volumes of Blood: Horror Stories - Super strong indie anthology
Phantasm: Ravager - You CAN go home again
The Barn - Eighties Halloween love letter
The Autopsy of Jane Doe - Unique and frightening genre bender


10 - THE SHALLOWS 
Entertaining and suspenseful shark flick with a great performance by Blake Lively. One of the more surprising horror offerings of the year.

9 - LIGHTS OUT
Spooky story with solid acting and a fantastic monster. Brisk pace and great effects.

8 - OUIJA: ORIGIN OF EVIL
Another mildly divisive entry, but the general consensus is that this sequel was much better than reasonably expected. Great atmosphere and a huge improvement over the weak first film.

7- THE INVITATION
Clever, suspenseful thriller with an outstanding cast. Inspired lunacy.
                                                                                                         

6 - I AM NOT A SERIAL KILLER
Tense and well made horror with outstanding performances by Max Records and Christopher Lloyd.

Lloyd and Records share a quiet moment.

5 - GREEN ROOM
The conceit of a horror film is rarely as realistically presented as this astounding punk rock nightmare. Patrick Stewart is a creeper and the late Anton Yelchin gives yet another in a line of strong horror film performances.

4 - HUSH
Director Mike Flanagan continues his career ascension with one of the most intriguing and intelligent slasher style films in years. Kate Siegel co-wrote and gives a remarkable turn as the deaf writer who must channel her creativity if she wants to survive the night.

3 - THE CONJURING 2
Its the attention to the detail of the time period that powers this frightening sequel, along with more believable chemistry and strong acting by the likable duo of Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga. Some nifty scares and a spook house penchant keep it at least on par with the borderline masterpiece original.

2 - DON'T BREATHE
Stephen Lang is jaw dropping as a home invasion victim and Jane Levy has another solid outing for director Fede Alvarez (Evil Dead remake). Detroit setting heightens the effectiveness of this thriller, abundant with surprises and nail biting situations.

1 - THE WITCH (The VVitch)
Many horror fans loved it, some claimed to hate it, but chances are everyone remembers the details of this ominous period folk story. It's an admittedly slow burn for the disengaged, loaded with atmosphere, spooky settings and some of the best acting of the year from ANY genre. From the cinematography to the haunting score, THE WITCH was one of the first theatrical horror releases of the past year and gets the HALLOWEEN MACHINE nod as the best picture of 2016.

                                        Wonder what great horror films await us in 2017?! Happy viewing!!

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