SHOCKing Halloween Countdowns

Since 2017 I’ve been doing an annual countdown of films on my YouTube channel. In these countdowns I post a video a day during the month of October, each about a film within a specific theme. I review the films, talking about the actors, plots, interesting facts, and my thoughts about them. They’ve been a lot of fun to make, and I alter the theme each year. 

Here’s a list of the countdowns we've done to date:

2017 – Anthology films

2018 – Howling Halloween (Werewolf films)

2019 – Ratober (Rat films)

2020 – Edgar Allan Poedown (Edgar Allan Poe adaptations)

2021 – Monsters Gone Wild

2022 – Wheels of Death (Killer vehicles)

2023 – Creepy Crawlies (Bug films)

2024 – Shocktober (Shock! Film Package)

 
The 2024 countdown was my most popular one yet, judging from the views and comments. It was a look at the Shock! Film package of movies that ran on television starting in 1957. That package was made up of 52 films from Universal Studios, made available for the first time to stations across the country and distributed by Screen Gems, a subsidiary of Columbia Pictures. This was a big deal for viewers, as these had never been seen on TV before. Suddenly people could watch movies right in the comfort of their homes – if they were lucky enough to own a television. The medium was new, and not every household had a set. But the lucky ones that did were in for a treat.

 
The Shock! package included films from a variety of genres. The majority were horror films, but there were also science fiction, suspense, and a few spy films thrown in as well. When the package was marketed to stations, Screen Gems sent out a booklet listing all of the available titles, as well as some promotional ideas to make the series a success. Among the ideas suggested was the inclusion of a costumed host to introduce the films. 

The Shock! Package was directly responsible
for the explosion of hosts across the country.

This was the birth of the late-night horror host across the nation. Vampira had broken ground a few years earlier hosting films for a year on a small station in Los Angeles (KABC-TV, 1954-1955). But that was a regional show only seen in LA. The Shock! Package was directly responsible for the explosion of hosts across the country. Following the suggestion in the promotional guide, stations recruited whatever local talent they could find to host these films. It was usually an employee of the station – a weatherman, or booth announcer – and often unpaid. These folks would invent a character, cobble together a cheap costume, and off they went! Each station had their own unique host, and the variety was astounding – vampires, mad scientists, ghouls, madmen – you name it, someone did it in some market somewhere. 

The unexpected side effect of these shows was that the host characters became more popular than the movies! Audiences quickly caught on and began tuning in each week to see what shenanigans their host would get up to. They became THEIR host, and each region love their guy or gal. They became local celebrities, and were flooded with fan letters and actual fans at personal appearances.

 
As I was editing this series the idea came to me to pay tribute to the men and women who hosted these films, in addition to the movies themselves. So, starting with episode 6, I included a brief tribute at the beginning of each episode to different Shock! hosts. I kept the focus on the first-wave horror hosts, those folks that actually hosted the Shock! Package in the 50s and 60s. I naturally started with the greatest horror host of all-time – Zacherley, known at that time as Roland, out of Philadelphia.

At the end of October, a viewer left a message here on the blog asking if I could list all of the films in that package, since I only covered 31 of them in the countdown. I missed that message initially, and apologize for the delay in responding, but have posted the complete list of films below.
 
Dracula (1931)
Frankenstein (1931)
Murders in the Rue Morgue (1932)
The Mummy (1932)
The Secret of the Blue Room (1933)
The Invisible Man (1933)
The Black Cat (1934)
Secret of the Chateau (1934)
The Mystery of Edwin Drood (1935)
The Raven (1935)
The Great Impersonation (1935)
Werewolf of London (1935)
Chinatown Squad (1935)
The Invisible Ray (1936)
Dracula's Daughter (1936)
Night Key (1937)
The Man Who Cried Wolf (1937)
Reported Missing! (1937)
The Spy Ring (1938)
The Last Warning (1938)
Son of Frankenstein (1939)
Mystery of the White Room (1939)
The Witness Vanishes (1939)
The Invisible Man Returns (1940)
Enemy Agent (1940)
The Mummy's Hand (1940)
Man-Made Monster (1941)
A Dangerous Game (1941)
Horror Island (1941)
Sealed Lips (1942)
The Wolf Man (1941)
The Mad Doctor of Market Street (1942)
The Strange Case of Doctor Rx (1942)
Night Monster (1942)
The Mystery of Marie Roget (1942)
The Mummy's Tomb (1942)
Nightmare (1942)
Destination Unknown (1942)
Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man (1943)
The Mad Ghoul (1943)
Son of Dracula (1943)
Calling Dr. Death (1943)
The Mummy's Ghost (1944)
Weird Woman (1944)
Dead Man's Eyes (1944)
The Frozen Ghost (1945)
Pillow of Death (1945)
House of Horrors (1946)
She-Wolf of London (1946)
The Spider Woman Strikes Back (1946)
The Cat Creeps (1946)
Danger Woman (1946)
 
And finally, here is a wrap-up video I shot showing all of the films I covered last year and what I ranked them. Thanks to everyone who tuned in last year. It was a fun topic and very on-point for my interest as a horror host.
 

Shock! Halloween Wrap-up

Thanks again to everyone who tuned in. That was a fun countdown, and we’ll do another one next year!

Stay Mad!

Made in Wax

FROZEN INTO ZOMBIES
DOOMED TO UNSPEAKABLE HORRORS . . .

There’s just something cool about movies set in wax museums. Perhaps it’s that uncanny valley effect of the lifelike yet still disturbing figures, or maybe it’s that so many wax museums specialize in horror and gore. Whatever the reason, I really dig them, and studios obviously agree with me, as they’ve made great settings for films through the years. I decided to watch one of these this weekend, the 1969 schlocker from Crown International, Nightmare in Wax.

 Now, before I get started, let me make one thing clear. This is in no way what would be considered a “good” film. It’s cheap, poorly paced, and trashy. Story-wise, it’s basically a rip-off of the much better House of Wax (starring Vincent Price). But I gotta admit, the trashy aesthetic of this film is 100% in my wheelhouse.

It stars Cameron Mitchell, who is one of my favorite actors. He was in a ton of cheap and low-budget pictures but always delivered, despite the quality of material he was given. He stars in this one as Vincent Renard, the proprietor of a wax museum who is a former Hollywood special effects artist. We eventually learn that he was permanently (and intentionally) maimed by the head of the studio he worked for and blinded in one eye, which is why he wears an eye patch. Recently, star actors of the studio have come up missing. Guess you can see where this one’s going! The police investigate Vincent and have a few questions, especially as he’s created lifelike figures of each of the actors who have come up missing. We eventually learn Vincent has a unique method for creating such realistic work involving hypnotism and a secret serum that turns people into catatonic zombies for his dioramas.

I love that Cameron’s character is named Vincent in this one. It’s a neat little nod to Vincent Price that had to be intentional. It is also appropriate that he has an eye patch, as the director of House of Wax, Andre De Toth, was blind in one eye and wore a patch as well. This was written by Rex Carlton, the writer and producer of The Brain that Wouldn’t Die. This one has a touch of that same sleaze feel to it that Brain has. It was directed by Bud Townsend, who also directed Terror at the Red Wolf Inn in 1972.

 

Despite its low-budget, cheap sets, and poor pacing, I think Nightmare in Wax is still fun and worth a watch. It would be nice if there was a remastered version out there somewhere—this could be just the type of film someone like Arrow or Vinegar Syndrome should restore. I think it would improve a lot from being cleaned up, both audio and video-wise.

Nosferatu and the Road to Demonetization

 

Yesterday I wrote about the Robert Eggers’ film Nosferatu (2024), as well as the previous two versions of that film—Nosferatu the Vampyre (1979), and Nosferatu: A Symphony of Terror (1922). I’ve had Nosferatu on my mind a lot lately, as it was the 1922 film that recently triggered my YouTube channel becoming demonetized. Which is completely ridiculous, as that film is firmly in the public domain.

In fact, every film made from 1929 and before is automatically public domain according to copyright law in the United States. But don’t tell YouTube that; they make their own arbitrary rules on their platform, as evidenced by the latest copyright claim I received on a video on my channel there. It was an episode of my old TV show Chiller Cinema from 2000 that was a vampire-themed episode. That video has been posted on there for years, but just recently received this claim. At the end of that episode, I ran a clip from Nosferatu (1922) that ran about 5 minutes. It was a silent clip, with no music underneath it. I ran it to fill the runtime to 28:30 for broadcast length. It is a clip with no music from a public domain film. No problem… except that a company called Jazzee Blue Records decided to file a claim on my video.

I initially wasn’t too worried about it, as I figured it must have been an automated match. Once I appealed it the company would see that it was a mistake and drop the claim. I’ve had that happen from time to time on public domain movies. So, I appealed it, and Jazzee Blue quickly came back and denied the appeal, insisting they owned this clip. 

This in turn caused YouTube to demonetize my channel for three months. I still wasn’t too worried as YouTube offered the chance for me to appeal their decision in a video appeal. So, I sat down and shot a video a few days later from my home office talking about my videos, public domain films, my shooting process, and why this was a simple mistake. YouTube, in turn, denied my appeal the very next day.

I was shocked. This movie is 102 years old. It is undeniably in the public domain. No one can claim this movie. Yet, that’s exactly what happened, and YouTube was upholding this ridiculous claim. I did a search for Jazzee Blue Records, and the only company I can find under that name is a record label founded by musician Chris Rea. I’ve always been a fan of his music, so if that is the company responsible, that is doubly disappointing. And honestly, if I was using his music, I would totally understand, but this was a silent clip; therefore, there is no basis for this claim.

The funny thing about it is that the Chiller Cinema video in question hadn’t really even had that many views. I wasn’t appealing it because of loss of funds; it was more the principle of the thing. I am a big believer in the public domain and can’t stand to see people get away with abusing it. I posted a video about this situation after the fact to let my YouTube viewers know I’d be changing my approach to what I post over there. In that video I explained a common tactic that shady producers use on YouTube. They’ll often take a public domain film—like The Giant Gila Monster, for instance—and find a clip from it with music that doesn’t have any talking in it. They’ll pull the audio from that clip and publish it on a site like CD Baby, giving it a new title and calling it their own “song.” They’ll then go back to YouTube and file a copyright claim on every video using their new song. It’s a blatant and crass way to steal money from people legally using public domain material.

I’ve honestly given up on YouTube as far as public domain films go. When someone files a copyright claim on a video, YouTube automatically sides with the claimant. They aren’t made to provide proof or documentation that they own said material; YouTube simply takes them at face value. Once an appeal is filed, all the claimant has to do is come back and reconfirm that they own it. Again, no proof necessary, just their word. If the person receiving the strike wants to file a second appeal, they risk getting a channel strike. Three channel strikes and your channel is deleted, thus disincentivizing anyone from pursuing further. It’s just not worth the risk. It’s a broken system and one that YouTube has no interest in fixing. 

Therefore, I’m done posting videos on there with any public domain material. I’ll stick to videos I create myself or quick clips used in reviews of movies, and even then, I’ll probably use more still images to avoid this in the future. I also scrubbed through all of my old videos and removed a good number of them, including all of my Chiller Cinema episodes. I’m able to reapply for monetization in March. We’ll see if they approve me.

In the meantime, I hope Jazzee Blue Records isn’t the same Jazzee Blue that was founded by Chris Rea. Again, I’ve always been a fan of his. If it is the same company, then Chris, I hope you speak to your employees about this. It’s bully tactics and no way to treat fellow producers, and is, in fact, the road to hell.

The Countless Qualities of Nosferatu

I kicked off my 2025 movie-watching season with a trip to the local theater to see director Robert Eggers' remake of the 1922 film, Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror. I've liked all of Egger's work to date, especially The Lighthouse, so I was looking forward to his new film, Nosferatu. I enjoyed this one. It’s a bit long, clocking in at 2 hours and 15 minutes, but never seemed to drag. It was a moody, dark, and gory take on the 1922 original that added some new wrinkles and additions, primarily Ellen Hutter’s psychic connection with Count Orlok. It is also dark lighting-wise—while beautifully shot, much of this film takes place in shadows and darkness. This would not be one to see at a drive-in. It needs to be seen on the best screen possible. The look of Count Orlok, played by Bill Skarsgard, seems to be the biggest conversational touchstone for this film. Certainly, it’s a unique take on the creature—but I’m okay with that, as it makes it Egger’s own interpretation. This count is decrepit and disgusting, yet somehow the mustache that is garnering so much controversy makes him more humanistic at the same time. 

 

I followed this up with a rewatch of the 1979 Werner Herzog film Nosferatu the Vampyre. Talk about contrast—watching those two back-to-back is fascinating. Where Egger’s version is shrouded in darkness, much of Herzog’s takes place in bright light. You can see details clearly in most of this film, including the Count himself, played by Klaus Kinski. He skulks around brightly-lit for much of this one. It’s beautifully shot, though, and full of a moody melancholy throughout. The makeup follows the 1922 design fairly faithfully, and Kinski really leans into the rat-like qualities of Count Dracula, as he’s called here. In fact, they use all of the names from Dracula—Harker, Lucy, Mina, Dracula, Renfield, and Van Helsing. The 2024 film, by comparison, sticks with the names from Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror—Hutter, Ellen, Harding, Knock, and Count Orlok. Which really underscores the intertwined nature of the two films. Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror was an unauthorized adaptation of Dracula, made without permission. Separating the two is near impossible; they’re like dark twins, shadow versions of one another, and the remakes further punctuate this. Egger’s Count Orlok is named after the F.W. Murnau character, yet looks-wise, he resembles more closely the character from the Bram Stoker source material. In comparison, Herzog’s Count resembles the character from Nosferatu, yet is named Dracula. 

 

 

Each of these films is excellent, and each has its own merits. If I were to rank them, I’d put them in order of release. The 1922 F.W. Murnau film is, for my money, the greatest vampire film of all-time, and the best silent film I’ve seen. Herzog’s film is a fantastic remake and tacks on an unexpected ending that is magnificent. Egger’s film is excellent in its own right, really painting in shadows to keep the Count cloaked in darkness. All three are worth watching, and I recommend viewing the last two back-to-back—it’s an eye-opening exercise.