Confessions of a Creepy Christian

This is an “off topic” post, which I don’t do anymore but, because it is Halloween, I am making an exception, ignore it if you please. Halloween is hands down my favorite holiday and has always been so. It is the one time of the year when I’m considered “festive” and “in the holiday spirit” rather than just being “creepy”. My immediate family always celebrated Halloween but, going to a private, religious school most of the time as a boy, I became aware that some Christians have a problem with it. Not everyone does and no group seemed to be entirely consistent on the subject. At my school, when I was very small, Halloween was okay, to an extent, then later it was banned as being completely evil. There were Protestants who were okay with it, some who opposed it and I can remember one Catholic priest saying it was completely evil only to be replaced by another priest who said it was good and only anti-Catholics thought it was evil. Take your pick. My late mother always said, “it is what you make of it” and whether it was good or bad was entirely up to you.

What always bothered me though was the idea some Christian fundamentalist types have that Halloween is too “dark” to be compatible with Christianity. This bothers me because I want to be Christian but the Christianity of sunshine, light and happiness seemed to exclude me. According to my parents I’ve had my days and nights mixed up since the day I was born, the light hurts my eyes and, well, “happiness” is just a word that no one has ever associated with me. It also struck me as extremely bizarre given my understanding of Christianity. Here you have a religion that has as its symbol a method of execution, a religion based on God becoming man, being killed, having people poke their fingers in his gaping wounds and who commands you to eat His flesh and drink His blood. All of this, and you think **I’M** too “creepy”!? I wonder sometimes if people are reading the same Bible I have because, as I have often said, Christianity is a Lovecraftian death-match, not a hippy religion.

Some of this I have touched on before so I will not go through it all again but it seems to me that authentic Christianity is, to put it mildly, not for the faint of heart. The Bible describes eternal, celestial beings of another plain of existence locked in a cosmic struggle for domination, giant monsters, a witch summoning a ghost, dragons, people and animals being possessed by demons, people being raised from the dead and I could go on at length about the angels, as I have somewhat before on these pages. Some of them do or can look like us, sure, but the description of them in their own habitat is terrifying. Some have bestial bodies, three heads, lots of wings, others are constantly engulfed in flames, some are giant wheels covered with eyeballs and so on, real nightmare fuel. They kill children, slaughter armies by the thousands and, you will notice, even when appearing on a happy occasion, always start by telling the person they are appearing before to stop being afraid. They are not chubby, flying babies folks. If you ever see an angel that is not ‘under cover’ you will most likely drop to your knees in mind-melting terror.

It does not stop with the scriptures either, then you get into the traditions of the early Church and there are plenty of horrifying stories to choose from there. Ever heard the story of St Margaret of Antioch? She was eaten alive by a dragon, used a cross to tear her way out of its stomach, was drowned, survived, burned alive, survived and then finally beheaded. The apostle St Bartholomew was skinned alive, St Christopher became a sort of godly wolf-man, St Denis had his head chopped off and just went on preaching, carrying his cranium around with him and I know someone is thinking, ‘well those are just stories, they cannot possibly be true’. To which I say, is any of it any more impossible to believe than Jesus spitting in the dirt and curing blindness with the mud, raising a man from the dead who was already half rotted away or there being a colossal sea serpent at the bottom of the ocean that God is going to come down and kill with a giant sword at the end of the world? Because all of that stuff is in the Bible and I should think any Christian would have to believe that.

Authentic Christianity, as I understand it, has nothing to do with this modern day collection of churches full of “nice” people who are all about sunshine and social justice, who think demons are just metaphors and God is so loving that He would never actually condemn anybody. Yes, God does love everyone but in a way that is far beyond our understanding. As far as being so loving as to never punish anyone, ever, all I can say is to tell that to the population that drowned in the flood or the parents of all the dead Egyptian children wiped out by an angel because their Pharaoh would not release the Israelites from bondage. God is not your BFF in the sky, God is not your “copilot” and God is not your ‘buddy’. God is beyond our comprehension, God is unfathomable to us and His ways are not our ways. God is omnipotent (all-powerful), omniscient (all-seeing) and omnipresent which, to put it in an unusual way but one which I prefer, is to say that God is so huge that He fills the entire universe and is everywhere at once. God is fair, God is just but if you think he’s too nice to punish you, just remember that when Jesus Christ died on the cross the sun was blacked out because God the Father turned His back on His own Son because he had just taken on the sin of every person to ever exist.

Yet, people who presumably believe in all of that, people who will walk around every day with a tiny image of a dead man nailed to a cross hanging around their neck, will tell me I’m “creepy” or “morbid” or some such thing. It really is incomprehensible to me other than that the vast majority of people do not really believe what they claim to. Perhaps I am totally wrong and it really is just me that does not fit and cannot accept it, however I cannot help but think we must be reading from two completely different playbooks when it comes to the Christian religion. They are in the Christianity of Joel Osteen and I’m in the Christianity of church buildings made out of dead people.

This surely must sound like a rant at this point but, I promise, I am not going off-topic today merely to vent my frustrations. I do have a story to tell which, I have found out lately, does not seem to be very well known even among life-long Christians. Yet, to explain how we get there, I did want to put this background in place and also call to mind a previous explanation I have given on these pages. My late grandfather was in the habit of giving people very distinct nicknames and these nicknames, in my immediate family anyway, tended to impose on us a certain “theme” if you like. My oldest sister, for example, had a nickname which caused the cartoon character of Tweety Bird to become her sort of mascot and over the years she accumulated as gifts just about every imaginable collectible featuring the sharp-tongued yellow canary. My nickname, on the other hand, caused me to accumulate over the years a similar assortment of things like skulls and skeletons and this also came to include items of a religious nature.

Although rare today, once upon a time it was fairly common to see crucifixes with a skull and bones at the bottom of the cross. Eventually, these were, I think, most often used only to place on the coffins of the deceased prior to burial but I doubt they are even used for that anymore. In any event, I have about four or five crucifixes like this and anytime anyone sees one it usually prompts a reaction such as a comment about it seeming morbid or macabre (which, again, I would think the dead deity hanging above it would take the prize for but, apparently that is just me). Today, I admit, it does stand out but this was not always the case but because it has effectively fallen out of use, people do not seem to understand the symbolism of it and the story behind it which, I think, is a beautiful one. There is, of course, the general symbolism of the skull and bones being a symbol of death and being shown at the bottom of a crucifix because the sacrifice of Christ defeated death, He triumphed over death and gave to all the chance of eternal life. That is simple enough to understand but it actually goes deeper than that.

Those of you who have read the Bible will likely be aware that the hill upon which Christ was crucified was called Golgotha and you might also be aware that this name translates as, ‘the place of the skull’. What you may not know, however, is how that hill got such a name. It was called that because the people of that time believed that beneath that hill was buried the skull of Adam, the originator of the human race, the man crafted by God’s own hand. Is this story true? Certainly, I cannot say for sure but I like to believe it as not only do I find it beautiful but I also think it makes a sort of sense. The beauty is that Christ, the perfect man who redeemed humanity, was sacrificed at or near the spot where Adam, the fallen man who condemned humanity, met his ultimate end. There is a sort of completion and perfection in that which I find impossible to resist. Whether the skull of Adam was actually down there or not, I have no idea but I do think the belief that it was is something not ridiculous to believe. After all, it was obviously called that before Christ was crucified there and so it had to have been the Jews who named the hill “the place of the skull” and the Jews would certainly not have invented such a story which would fit so perfectly with Jesus being the Son of God, something which goes against their entire being as they are. If anything, they would have had every reason to re-name the place and suppress such a story.

That is my story for today and I will leave you with this; God is beyond our comprehension and we cannot put the Almighty in a box, we cannot have borderlines around the infinite. Much of what scares us usually comes down to death and as someone who has had to say goodbye to most of my family by now, I can tell you that it is sad but the whole point of Christianity is that it should not be frightening in and of itself. The dark things that so many ‘sunshine and lollipop’ Christians would shun are things which are at least not bad, sometimes quite beneficial and important up to a point to at least teach us that evil exists because the real harm from demonic forces comes when people no longer believe they are real. I would ask you to think on that and, if you ever happen across one of us who prefers candle light and chanting in dead languages to guitars and clapping, be tolerant of the “creepy” Christians that are still out there.

Happy Halloween from
The Mad Monarchist 💀

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MM Movie Review: The Mask of Fu Manchu

One of the most visible “monsters” of the golden age of classic horror movies was the mad scientist. “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”, “Frankenstein”, “The Invisible Man” and many more featured the ever-present mad scientist. One, however, that must surely stand out from the rest was the villainous Dr. Fu Manchu, starring bad guy in a series of novels by Sax Rohmer. There have been many films featuring the western-educated Asian warlord and most probably associate the character with the great horror actor Christopher Lee. However, by far the best of all the Fu Manchu movies was one of the earliest; “The Mask of Fu Manchu” starring none other than the horror icon Boris Karloff in the title role. Released in 1932 by MGM it says something that “The Mask of Fu Manchu” was still considered extremely controversial many decades after its release and only very recently was released in its original, unedited form. Contrary to the title, the driving force in the story is not the mask of Fu Manchu but rather the mask of Genghis Khan, and his sword as well, which the villainous doctor is intent on gaining for himself. Karloff as Fu Manchu is one of the great horror performances of all time and the bad guy scenes dominate the movie thanks to him and the great Myrna Loy as his daughter Fah Lo See. Today she is probably best known as Nora Charles in the magnificent “Thin Man” series of films, but originally she was often cast as villainous, alluring, and usually foreign, femme fatales and her part in “The Mask of Fu Manchu” was one of her last (and greatest) such appearances. The movie was plagued with bad luck but, thankfully, it doesn’t show and deserves a place amongst the great horror classics.

Would this face lie to you?

One illustration of the problems had in making the movie is that it had two directors, one who started it and another who finished it. Charles Brabin is the one credited as the director but the original director was Charles Vidor, originally Karoly Vidor, a Jewish-Hungarian filmmaker from Budapest who served in the Imperial-Royal Army of Austria-Hungary in the First World War. If that seems unusual, keep in mind that such iconic horror actors such as Peter Lorre (star of such horror classics as MGM’s “Mad Love”) and Bela Lugosi (forever famous as Universal’s “Dracula”) were also veterans of the Austro-Hungarian military. Peter Lorre was actually the commandant of a POW camp for a time in World War I. This review is being included here because it’s Halloween and because the plot of the film centers around the immensely powerful symbolism of one of history’s greatest monarchs, the Mongol emperor Genghis Khan. However, there were plenty of monarchial connections among the cast & crew, though I doubt any of them were monarchists. Leading man Boris Karloff, a native of England with Anglo-Indian ancestry, never took American citizenship, despite spending most of his life in America and gaining his greatest fame in Hollywood and always remained a British subject. He was also a great-nephew of Anna Leonowens whose life inspired the famous musical “The King and I”, and other works and films, highly fictionalized accounts of her life at the court of the King of Siam. “The Mask of Fu Manchu” was a first for Karloff, being the first time he had a large speaking part.

"the Yellow Peril incarnate"

The film opens in London where Sir Denis Nayland Smith (Lewis Stone) of the British secret service meets with noted Egyptologist Sir Lionel Barton (played by Lawrence Grant). He knows Barton thinks he knows the location of the tomb of Genghis Khan. Along with the remains of the great conqueror, the tomb contains the mask and sword of Genghis Khan and Smith warns Barton that the villainous Dr. Fu Manchu is on the hunt for these treasures as well and that Barton must find them before Fu Manchu does or the consequences could be disastrous. Smith warns Barton that, “in your hands these things would be merely interesting archaeological specimens to go into British Museum, but should Fu Manchu put that mask across his wicked eyes and take that scimitar into his bony, cruel hands, all Asia rises. He’ll declare himself Genghis Khan come to life again. And that, my friend, is what you have got to prevent. You must find that grave, and you must be the first to find it.” Well, Barton is a patriot and agrees. He goes to a meeting at the museum late at night to tell his fellow archaeologists about the expedition and where they are going -and that they have to get there before Fu Manchu does. This prompts one of the men to quip, “A Chinaman beat me? He couldn’t do it!” This was only one of many lines that was edited out for being racist. Most, however, were actually lines spoken by “Asians” (usually Fu Manchu).

Terry meets the family

Unfortunately for Barton, Fu Manchu had some of his minions shadowing him, dressed as mummies and hiding in sarcophagi (perhaps a nod to Universal’s “The Mummy”, also starring Karloff, released the following month). They kidnap Barton and take him to the Far East, to the lair of Fu Manchu, somewhere in the area of northern China/Inner Mongolia. Back in London, Barton’s daughter, Sheila (Karen Morley) freaks out in a gloriously over-acted scene when she hears that her father is missing and most likely in the clutches of Fu Manchu who is, evidently, famous all over the world for his tortures. She decides to lead her father’s expedition herself, bringing along her hunky, muscle-headed fiancé Terry. Meanwhile, back in the palace of Fu Manchu (and props to the set designer for doing a spectacular job on that, all the sets in this movie look absolutely fantastic) Barton is brought before Dr. Fu Manchu, played to villainous, hissing perfection by Karloff (his natural lisp coming in handy for a change). He is such a great, colorful character, I don’t see how anyone could watch this movie and not start rooting for the bad guys, even as Fu Manchu angrily vows to “wipe out the whole accursed White race!” Although the film makes no mention of it, those familiar with previous films or the novels will know that Fu Manchu’s hatred of westerners comes from the fact that his family were killed during the Boxer Rebellion and the man knows how to hold a grudge. Whether such context would have made any difference to the censors who wiped out so many of his overtly racist lines in the film, who can say?

Can I keep him Dad?

Yet, Fu Manchu, say what you will of him, does try to be peaceful. He first tries to get Barton to tell him the location of the tomb by offering him money and women, even his own daughter (as she stands right there!) and it is only when Barton refuses that he subjects the Englishman to the infamous ‘torture of the bell’ which Fu Manchu delivers with sadistic glee, taunting his helpless victim on several occasions. In the meantime, Sheila and company discover the tomb, the enthroned corpse of the great conqueror and retrieve the mask and sword. Sir Denis meets up with them later and some of their number are killed as the minions of Fu Manchu try to steal the artifacts. Having no luck there, the villainous doctor sends one his chief lackeys to bargain for them with Sheila. He offers the life of her father in return for the relics and brings along Barton’s severed hand just to prove that he has him and that his threats are to be taken seriously. Sir Denis does not want to negotiate but Sheila uses her feminine charm to convince Terry to secretly snatch the sword and mask and take them to Fu Manchu. The villainous doctor is elated at first but a quick test shows the scimitar to be a fake and he is enraged, uttering one of the best lines of the movie when he calls Terry a “cursed son of a White dog!” Terry had no idea the items were fakes, Sir Denis having previously switched them out, but no one believes him. Fah Lo See, quite the sadistic little nymphomaniac, takes big, strong Aryan Terry away to be whipped by two big, Black African servants as she shouts in excitement. You can have fun watching scenes like this with friends to see how they react; will they be offended that all the good guys are White and all the villains are Asians with African henchmen or will they cheer at the White guy being tortured?

that is a courting hat if I ever saw one

Dr. Fu Manchu, however, has more in mind for Terry and does not allow his daughter to harm him too much. Using snakes, tarantulas and other evil creatures he creates a mind-control potion that makes Terry his automaton. He also delivers Barton’s dead body to Sheila, showing that he kept his word. Sheila goes off the deep end only to have Terry turn up (under Fu Manchu’s spell) and convince her to take the real sword and mask to a nearby town where Sir Denis is waiting to meet them. It is a trap of course and they are captured and taken before Fu Manchu who finally has his prize. In a gathering of Asian chieftains, his daughter tells them of a vision that Genghis Khan would come back again and would lead the hordes of the east against the west and their might will sweep the world. Dr. Fu Manchu sends the rest of the party away to be tortured to death but keeps Sheila as a human sacrifice, to be killed when he reveals himself with the sword and mask to the other Asian warlords. However, Sir Denis is still on the loose and finds Fu Manchu by following one of his minions. He is quickly captured of course, but escapes and helps to free the others while Fu Manchu, in full regalia, is giving a rousing speech to his fellow warlords, telling them, among other things, to “conquer and breed! Kill the White man and take his women!” in another line that was censored from the film.

Try to trick me you cursed son of a White dog?!

Above, in his laboratory, Sir Denis and company find the doctor’s death ray and start zapping the assembled crowd, starting with Fu Manchu, while Terry rescues Sheila in the confusion. The party then escapes, leaving the death ray on automatic fire, raining down vengeance on the Asian warlords while the Europeans make their getaway. We then cut to the party on a ship bound for England and, after a slight scare, Sir Denis drops the sword into the ocean, fearing that so long as it existed, someone would always be trying to steal it in order to carry out the same plan as Fu Manchu. With that “happy” ending, we fade to black and roll the credits. The ending, to me, seemed a little too easy, but I may be disgruntled simply because Fu Manchu was thwarted. One thing that always struck me as odd was the prominent presence of the death ray. I mean, if you have a death ray, do you really need an ancient sword and mask to start your campaign for world conquest? Why go to all that trouble when you already have a DEATH RAY to begin with? That never made sense to me but, again, I’m probably just bitter because I wanted Fu Manchu to win. I don’t care if you are as white as a sheet, he’s just such a colorful, entertaining character that I don’t see how anyone could not be taken in by him.

He will send you to your cold Christian heaven

“The Mask of Fu Manchu” is extremely racist, no doubt about it, yet I confess it is one of my favorite movies and far and away the best of the long list of films featuring the villainous doctor described as “the yellow peril incarnate”. Karloff and Myrna Loy really steal the show, the writing was excellent with so many memorable lines, there was great action and suspense and it is just an all around excellent horror-adventure story. It was also plagued with bad press from the outset due to accusations of racism from various Asian groups, starting with no less than the government of the Republic of China (which was still in charge on the mainland back then). It is hard for me to take seriously because, I was rooting for the Asian villains the whole time, their characters were just so much more entertaining. However, you can certainly see where they were coming from. The Asians are all really, really evil in this movie or I should say “Asians” because everyone with a speaking role, save one, was played by a European or American made up to look Asian. The only exception was a good-natured, stupid waiter at the very end. Yeah, all the cool bad guys are White people in disguise and the only actual Asian who gets a line is dumb, goofy and a servant. That is pretty racist, I think anyone would have to admit. It was also just the overall tone of the movie with Fu Manchu ranting against the “White race” and with his main crew being Asians and his “muscle” being Black men it was easy to take the movie as a showcase of the benevolent, civilized Whites being attacked by a horde of “colored” people at every turn. But, certainly today, we can see it for what it is, it’s just a movie and everyone should just relax. I would think anyone would be just a little proud to have so awesome a villain as Dr. Fu Manchu as one of their own. He’s certainly one of my all-time favorites, he just enjoys being bad so much.

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween!

Happy Halloween from everyone here at The Mad Monarchist

First is our annual Halloween dance...

...then we all pile into the bus and head for the border to see if we can get a part in one of those snuff films all the kids are talking about. Good times...

 

 Alright, in truth, at the last minute I raided my first-aid kit and slapped together an "Invisible Man" costume to scare the trick-or-treaters. I usually try to get into the 'spirit' of things, but where I live, you might get trick-or-treaters and you might not -and they have to call ahead to make sure you will be home and have the front gates open. I didn't think anyone would be coming this year but, surprise, there were and I had only about ten minutes to come up with a costume. I put on a jacket and tie, a big black hat, my sun glasses and wrapped my head in bandages, put on some gloves and -presto- a five minute Halloween costume. I tried working on sounding like Claude Rains but the less said about that the better. However, I'm so stuck in my own little backwards-looking world most of the time it never occurred to me that kids today will probably not be familiar with a movie 'monster' from 1933. My oldest neice is the only one who recognized me as the Invisible Man and I'm sure that was only because she had seen a book in my library about the film. Anyway, we all had fun and that's what it's all about right. If you're not too scared, tell all what you were for Halloween in the box below.



Off Topic Tuesday: Horror Films

With Halloween still fresh in everyone’s mind (even though the stores are already setting up their Christmas decorations to honor the birth of our savior -commercialism) I thought I would discuss some of my favorite horror movies. A guilty pleasure perhaps, but I love horror movies. That being said, they don’t all actually “scare” me in the traditional way. I can identify what I consider “scary” but these are generally not the sort of thing that would give me nightmares or something like that. What is scary can be very person-specific. “Arachnophobia” scared the crap out of me way more than something like “Scream” ever could. The movie “The Bad Seed” (1956) had no blood, no sudden, startling scares to make you jump out of your chair but I found it very disturbing. I found “Child’s Play” ridiculous and stupid. A lot of people thought the Japanese “Grudge” movies were very scary, not so much with me. I thought “House” was more entertaining as far as Japanese horror movies go, and I don’t think it was even trying to be “scary” just odd, surreal and darkly funny. So, take all of this as you wish. I don’t do rankings on these things because most are very different and I don’t think one can be fairly compared to the other.

- Night of the Living Dead - A cult classic, made in black & white with a budget that could buy you lunch at Burger King, yet I still think it is one of the best. This movie broke a lot of ground, being made in 1968 when civil rights was still a fairly hot topic, this movie not only has a Black man as the main character but a Black man who beats the snot out of a White, middle class jerk and who even gets to slap a White girl -and not just any White girl, but a blonde, blue-eyed Aryan poster girl who’s downright catatonic throughout most of the movie. Has anyone not seen this? A random group of people get trapped in a farmhouse in Pennsylvania by a horde of flesh-eating zombies. The tone is good, there is a claustrophobic, “trapped” feeling that is conveyed really well as more and more zombies arrive to surround the house. Those inside have to fend off the zombies as well as trying (unsuccessfully) to get along with each other in a time of crisis. The scene with the little girl zombie at the end still stands out to me as one of the creepiest things ever on screen.

- Halloween - Another classic (and for many years the most profitable independent film ever made) this movie is usually cited as inspiring the birth of the “slasher” sub-genre. However, one of the things I like best is the near total lack of blood and gore at all. This movie is scary but not disgustingly gruesome. It is the tone that is frightening, the lighting, the direction, the background music and the slow, methodical, mysterious and relentless murderer that makes this movie great. The killer (Michael Myers) has very little background at all. He’s not really a character so much as a force, an unthinking embodiment of evil (as explained by the late, great actor Donald Pleasance as Dr. Sam Loomis). Part of what makes this movie work is that you have no idea who this psychopath is, what made him snap or why he is so determined to murder this one particular babysitter. We find out more in the sequels but none manage to match the quality of the original (a common problem in horror movies). The characters seem very real, the tension building up is clearly felt and I absolutely loved the ending. Of all the series, the original is still the best.

- The Texas Chainsaw Massacre - What? You had to have seen this coming, I’m a patriot damn it! This is yet another stunning success born out of a bunch of young filmmakers, pushing the envelope with very little money and a lot of creativity. The low budget gave it a very gritty, realistic, almost documentary feel to it (which was helped by the film opening with a “this is a true story” introduction). The actors, the good, the bad and the weirdoes among them, never seem like actors. I am always annoyed by how most celebrated actors (especially these days) don’t act like real people -they “act” like actors. The actors in TCM act like real people, some are annoying, they get on your nerves, they sweat, they complain, they bicker, do odd things now & then and just seem like real people. Even the sick, twisted villains don’t act like your typical, drippingly evil villains. They act like they really are a bunch of inbred, borderline retarded hicks concerned with their own survival and totally lacking in empathy. They are evil, sure, but they come off as more of an actual family that hardship has made totally insane and even then, they don’t act like your typical Hollywood criminally insane types -menacing and maniacal but more goofy, abnormal and, again, just more real. One of the victims is in a wheelchair, which doesn’t usually happen and on top of that he’s really annoying, whereas in most movies anyone who is handicapped is always saintly and sympathetic. By the time we get to the infamous “dinner scene” you really feel like you’re going out of your mind along with the sole survivor. Again, the original is still the best.

- The Exorcist - Yes, no surprise here, I loved this one too. Another horror hit (very loosely) based on a true story, this is also one without the blood and gore one usually associates with horror movies. Certain scenes are disgusting to be sure, but not bloody and even those are used sparingly (pea soup anyone?). What makes this movie scary is the subject matter, the ‘tone’, the scenes intended to shock (I think everyone knows which those are) and the way it builds to the climax of the exorcism, the possession becoming progressively worse and worse. This was before the age of easy special-effects and that only makes it better. The makeup job was good, slowly and convincingly turning an adorable little girl into a demon, and perhaps most of all the “voice”. Everyone who has ever seen this movie will never forget that voice. This is also one horror movie in which it is important that the good guys win -which doesn’t always happen in horror movies and which I don’t always want to happen in a horror movie but in this one it is both necessary and welcome. There is plenty in it that would be hard for a religious person to take but, I maintain that it is still a very religious film at heart. You just cannot see something like that and not have to believe that there is a force of good even greater than the force of evil on display. The original is the best, the sequels were a mistake though I am possibly the only person in the world who didn’t totally dislike The Exorcist II.

- The Shining - Stephen King is pretty hit-and-miss with me but this was the perfect marriage of a Stephen King story, a great cast and Stanley Kubrick, possibly the greatest director of our time. Sometime in the 90’s I think Stephen King did a made-for-TV version that was supposed to be more in keeping with his “vision” (which was only possible because of developments in CGI that were not available in Kubrick’s time) but, take my advice, don’t waste your time. Kubrick’s is the version to see and the fact that this is such a great movie really does have more to do with the directing than it does the story. The cinematography alone would be reason enough to see this movie. The actors are all great (even “Danny” and I’m not usually big on children in movies) and you can feel Jack Nicholson slowly descending into madness. The hotel is a character by itself and Kubrick makes it have a presence and malevolence all its own. There are so many scenes that stand out in this movie; the twins (of course), the elevators, “red rum”, the discovery of the ‘novel’ and, “Here’s Johnny!”. Anyone who has ever seen this movie will remember each of those perfectly. This is not the sort of horror movie where things jump out and startle you, nor the kind that is simplistic, wrapped up in a little box with a bow on top. This movie will leave you wondering about some things but it is more satisfying as a horror movie because it lets the fear build up throughout until everyone (cast and viewers included) are permanent guests of the Overlook Hotel.

- Alien - Science-Fiction horror? Unique, but it works. This movie is scary. I don’t care who you are, this is a scary movie. One of the problems I have with the Sci-fi genre in general is that most of it seems rather pointless, but not this movie. The point is to scare you and it does. Ridley Scott has done some movies I liked (well, one or two) and a lot that I didn’t. He also said he didn’t like horror movies but he certainly made one of the great ones here. Why is it scary? Because you believe it. This is a believable spaceship with believable people, not a Star Trek shopping mall ship with people from the JC Penny catalogue. This is also not your typical alien. Aliens, even the ones that are supposed to be scary, are usually advanced, intelligent beings. Not this one, this is an animal. You don’t ever see much of it but that makes it all the better. It doesn’t look like some guy in a rubber costume, it looks like an animal, an insect, a reptile, a machine and, all-in-all, very *alien*. This is a movie where things will jump out and startle you, but it is all done in such a way that it is not like the cheap scares of bad slasher flicks. There is foreboding, drama, conflict, building tensions and diminishing hope. There is not much meaning to it, but there are scares, which may be why I don’t own this one but watch it once every blue moon when it pops up. It always delivers.

- A Nightmare on Elm Street - This series got a bad reputation, mostly because of the numerous sequels (which I admit there is no need for) but I think the original was really good. It was creative, unlike any scary movie I had ever seen before and it was creepy as all get out. The later sequels have given the franchise a reputation for being gross, absurd and goofy but the original is definitely not (absurd or goofy, it is gross in several places). Freddy is a very chilling villain, nothing like the rather comic figure he became later. I saw this movie pretty soon after it came out and though it has been a long time since I last saw it (I have it on VHS and no longer own a VCR) but many scenes still stand out, vivid in my mind from day one. The death on the ceiling scene, the corpse calling in the hallway, the first encounter with Freddy and who could ever forget watching a young Johnny Depp be eaten by his bed and spewed out or Heather getting licked by the telephone. Some of the special effects do seem dated today, but most are not lingered on long enough to really notice. It is also just a very creative and different concept. How do you deal with a villain that attacks in your dreams? I like the concept, it is pretty scary stuff and I loved the ending. One, two, Freddie’s coming for you…

- Psycho - Considering how often I’ve ripped off one of the lines from this classic horror thriller, I must include (the original) Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho”. This is not the sort of fright flick most today would recognize. It is more mental, it is as much a suspense thriller and mystery as it is simply a movie to frighten. Hitchcock was at his best. The shower scene, the murder on the stairs -those could have been very, very ordinary but he made them extraordinary; shocking, frightening and unforgettable. This movie also builds toward a very frightening ending (and I thought the ending more disturbing than the climax) but you don’t really notice it as it is happening because just when you think you have figured it out, you find out you were on the wrong track. Of course, that also means that it is not the sort of movie that will effect you the same way once you have already seen it, but I find it still holds up as you will notice little subtleties you missed the first time around but, knowing how it ends, makes sense. It is a classic and for a very good reason -it is one of the great ones. And, as I said, I have to pay due homage for a line I often use, referring to Mrs. Bates who, we are told, is not really a bad person, “She just goes a little mad sometimes. We all go a little mad sometimes. Don’t you?” Yes Norman, yes I do.

That is probably enough to be getting on with for now. I do have to make mention for what are my favorite ‘group’ of horror movies and those are the Universal classic monster movies and generally all those of the old school. I absolutely love the old, original “Dracula”, “Frankenstein”, “The Creature from the Black Lagoon” and so on. Many still consider “Bride of Frankenstein” to be the “perfect” horror movie, and though I can’t name favorites, it is certainly one of the greatest in my book. Also movies like “The Invisible Man”, “King Kong” are still favorites of mine. They wouldn’t scare a five-year old today, but I think they are masterpieces and I could watch each of them 500 times and still find something to marvel at. The worst? Also tough to say, because even the worst have their place. The “Friday the 13th” franchise is usually my easy answer, silly stories, disgusting blood and gore and cheap scares. Crap. Yet, I own at least 2 of them as I recall. I also own the more recent stinker “My Bloody Valentine” which is about as bad as you can get but which I still enjoyed watching just because it was so much fun to make fun of. In the end, it’s all a matter of taste and, as I am a perfect example, there is no accounting for it.

Happy Halloween!

From The Mad Monarchist

MM Video: This Is Halloween

Halloween Special Profile: The Blood Countess

The case of Elisabeth Bathory is an ideal one for the Halloween season. Her life story reads like a modern horror novel and, indeed, the lurid tales of the notorious Hungarian countess have been cited as the inspiration for numerous works of fiction intended to terrify. She is known today as one of the most infamous serial killers in history and yet, as with so many figures who have gained such notoriety, it is difficult to separate the facts from the lurid fiction. Are the horror stories about her true? If not, she must be one of the most grossly misrepresented figures in all of history. If, on the other hand, they are, she would justly deserve to be known as one of the most vicious living nightmares known to man. Elizabeth Báthory was born on August 7, 1560 on the family estate in Nyírbátor, Hungary to George Báthory of the Ecsed branch of the family. Her uncle was the former Voivod of Transylvania, Andrew Bonaventura Báthory, and her mother was Anna Báthory whose father was Stephen Báthory of Somlyó, who had also been Voivod of Transylvania and King of Poland. She grew up at Ecsed Castle near the Romanian border and was given a good education, becoming learned in Greek, Latin and German.

On May 8, 1575 Elisabeth was married to a Hungarian count who was often away fighting the Turks, leaving Elisabeth to manage his extensive estates in the Carpathian mountains in his absence. In 1604 he was mortally wounded in battle, leaving Elisabeth completely on her own as she had little to do with the raising of their children. It was during his long absences and after his death that many lurid rumors began to spread about the countess. From very early in life Elisabeth was known as a great beauty with long, lovely hair, shapely figure and she was especially known for her white, spotless, almost shining complexion. As the story goes, she became excessively vain, perverse and increasingly obsessed with the occult, surrounding herself with all sorts of alchemists and other assorted charlatans. She recruited local peasant girls to serve in the castle, which was considered quite an honor as well as a duty. However, more and more of these girls began to go missing and most seemed to be very attractive young virgins, which only fueled the horror stories and speculation about what was going on in the castle.

As the tales go, Elisabeth Bathory had become fanatically obsessed with retaining her youthful beauty she was so proud of. She became convinced that the only way to accomplish this was to regularly bath in the blood of virgin girls. Some accounts said she was even given to vampirism and would drink the blood of the girls from fine, jewel-encrusted cups. All sorts of torture allegedly were carried out by the bad tempered countess in her house of horrors; servant girls slashed with razor blades, whipped to a bloody pulp, burned with red hot pokers, burned with red hot coins for stealing, having their mouth sewed up with needle and thread for talking too much or being tied naked to trees to be devoured by wild animals. Every conceivable horror was talked about to explain the disappearances and the summons of a young girl to the castle was considered as good as a death sentence. Many went in, none ever came out. Eventually, so the stories go, her habit of bathing in blood so depleted the local female population that there were virtually no peasant girls left, which forced the murderous countess to look for victims among the aristocracy.

So, the countess decided to advertise her castle as something of a “finishing school” where aristocrats could send their daughters to learn proper manners, behavior and all the things expected of a high-born, well-to-do young lady. Knowing the venerable name the countess represented, many, especially among the minor gentry, jumped at the chance to send their girls to study in such a famous household. They had no idea what they were in for. Upon entering the castle they entered a world of unimaginable horrors, presided over by the demented countess who would bite off chunks of their flesh, mutilate their bodies in a number of areas as well as presiding over sadistic sexual rituals before bathing in their blood. If even a fraction of the horror stories are true, the castle of the “Blood Countess” was a living nightmare if ever there was one. However, the pedigree of her new victims would be her undoing. Fellow aristocrats were not going to stand idle once it became clear that their daughters, sent to the countess for schooling, were never coming back.

If she had contented herself with tormenting her own people or could have stopped herself once her immediate supply was exhausted she might have escaped all punishment. But, of course, she could not. It was a compulsion, a sadistic depravity born out of vanity. She must maintain her famous beauty and so she must have more virgin girls to kill to fill her tub. To do this, she would have them suspended over it and then slash their throats. Eventually, her victims included some of the most important and powerful families in that part of Hungary and the nobility gathered to take action against the monstrous woman. Alarming reports had even spread to Vienna and so King Matthias sent agents to investigate. Before this was even completed, as more and more stories were collected, each more gruesome than the last, it was decided that the countess would have to go. She was arrested and the King, thoroughly disgusted by the reports that reached him, wanted to put her to death but he was persuaded that this would inflame the nobility who would not want to see one of their own executed no matter what the crime. Instead, Elisabeth Bathory was sentenced to house arrest for the remainder of her life. So it was the she spent the rest of her days, walled up inside a few rooms of her castle, screaming and ranting, totally shut off from the outside world with no doors, no windows and only a small opening to pass her food. Under such conditions she lived only another four years before her death on August 21, 1614.

And so Elisabeth Bathory, the “Blood Queen” or the “Countess of Blood” has gone down in popular memory as one of the most terrifying monsters of history. Her story has been the subject of many books, horror novels and even a few slasher films. But is it all a true story? Was she really responsible for torturing to death some 650 girls and some accounts claim? A few have their doubts. For instance, there is evidence that, when she was actually administering her estates, the countess acted with wisdom and even compassion. There is evidence that she championed the cause of poor women and those raped by marauding Turkish soldiers during the war. Much of the reported “hard evidence” for her crimes was also conveniently lost and lately some have even pointed to the possibility of a conspiracy against her. The countess was (officially anyway) a Protestant and thus none too popular with the very Catholic Hapsburg rulers in Vienna. Some now have put forward the theory that the whole story of the vicious “Queen of Blood” was part of a Hapsburg conspiracy to bring down a prominent Protestant noblewoman. If so, the tactic succeeded beyond all expectation. One would hope that humanity could not be capable of such crimes as have been attributed to Countess Elisabeth Bathory and yet, even if she really were the victim of the greatest “smear job” in history, the image of her as a nightmarish monster has become so engrained in popular culture it would be impossible to think she could ever be rehabilitated no matter what evidence ever comes to light. At least one film, made by a Slovakian filmmaker, has tried to tell the story of the countess as the victim of a conspiracy to ruin her by the villainous Palatine of Hungary but, so far, it is the more lurid (if harder to believe) stories of murder and depravity that prevail when the name of Elisabeth Bathory is mentioned.

Happy Halloween!

Monarch Profile: Prince Vlad III of Wallachia

He was known, especially among the Ottoman Turks, as Vlad the Impaler though today he known mostly by the name he used himself. His father, Prince Vlad II, joined the Order of the Dragon and so became known as Vlad Dracul or “the dragon”. Thus (as I’m sure everyone knows), his son Vlad III was known as the ‘son of the dragon’ or Vlad Dracula. No, he was not an undead, blood drinking phantom but he was the inspiration for the famous novel by Bram Stoker. Vlad Dracula was born in Transylvania in 1431. His father joined the Order of the Dragon just after Vlad Dracula was born and when the boy was only five years old he was also made a member. This order, though it may sound sinister today, was instituted by the Holy Roman Emperor Sigismund when he was King of Hungary as a chivalric order for the defense of Christianity from the Muslim Turks who were sweeping all before them in the Balkans. When his father brought him to the capital of Wallachia Vlad Dracula was given an impressive education by Greek scholars sent from Constantinople.

In 1442 Vlad II Dracul fell prey to infighting among the Hungarian nobles and made an alliance with the Ottomans to regain his throne. He sent two of his sons, including Dracula, to the Turks as hostages. While there he gained a reputation for being a headstrong and impertinent youth for which he was often beaten. His brother, Prince Radu, took the opposite approach and converted to Islam, went to the Ottoman court and eventually served the Sultan Mehmed II “the Conqueror”. Because of this young Dracula came to have an immense hatred of the Turks, his brother who had joined them and even his father for betraying their order by dealing with the Turks. Yet, during this time the Turks also taught him Turkish, Persian, the art of warfare and even gave him instruction in the Quran. His father was eventually restored with Turkish help but the famous Hungarian Janos Hunyadi, the “White Knight” led forces against him, overthrew him again, killing Vlad Dracul and his oldest son.

Not wanting Wallachia ruled by the Hungarians, Ottoman forces invaded and placed Vlad Dracula on the throne, thinking they would perhaps have some influence on him, but he was soon driven out by Hunyadi as well. Dracula went to Moldavia and later Hungary where his obvious hatred of the Turks and his knowledge of them as well as the local countryside induced Hunyadi to make him his advisor. The time for unity had definitely come as the new Sultan Mehmed II had succeeded in the long-sought Turkish goal of conquering Constantinople, finally bringing the last remnant of the Eastern Roman Empire to an end and the Ottomans were pushing north rapidly. Hunyadi led his troops toward Belgrade while Dracula organized his own army to march on his ancestral home of Wallachia. He restored himself to power and immediately set about restoring his homeland which had been plundered so many times by so many enemies in the preceding years. He built new villages, encouraged greater agriculture and established trade ties with neighboring countries. He also set about taking revenge on all those who had betrayed him, wiping out enemies and raising up his allies.

War was never very distant and after reestablishing his authority and prosperity to his people Vlad Dracula launched minor campaigns into Transylvania before joining King Matthias Corvinus of Hungary in a new war against the Ottoman Turks. Dracula led a brutal campaign across the Danube, devastating the enemy and by his own accounts massacring Turks, Bulgars and others, beheading them, burning them and so on with only the Christian population being spared. The Sultan tried to lure him into a trap to capture him but Dracula was tipped off and wiped out the force sent to bring him in. When Sultan Mehmed II raised an army for a punitive campaign against Dracula he was allegedly met, as he entered his territory, by a forest of his previous military force impaled on large spikes as a warning of the fate that awaited them. It was the supposed fondness Vlad Dracula had for impaling his enemies that led to infamous nickname among the Turks, “Vlad the Impaler”. Nonetheless, the Turks came on and in a daring series of attacks Dracula completely destroyed their army with his victory cheered across the Balkans and even as far as Rome and Genoa.

Dracula won many other victories, even against his own brother Radu who was fighting for the Sultan. However, many of the boyars he had punished before began to turn against him, even if it meant alliance with the Ottomans, and surrounded by enemies on all sides Dracula was worn down by attrition and forced to go to his overlord, the King of Hungary, for help. Rather than receiving assistance Matthias Corvinus charged him with treason and put him in prison. This was based on a forged letter showing an proposed alliance between Dracula and the Sultan; which most anyone would know was false given the ferocious level of hatred Dracula had shown toward the Turks. It is also telling that Dracula was not executed even though treason was obviously an offense usually punished by death. In time Dracula and Matthias Corvinus were reconciled and Dracula even married a cousin of the King and around 1465 she bore him two sons. In November of 1476 the Hungarian High Council agreed to the restoration of Prince Dracula and he led Hungarian forces into Wallachia to retake his homeland and his throne. However, only two months after reestablishing himself, with the war still raging, he was killed in battle with the Turks near Bucharest.

Prince Vlad Dracula obviously has one of the most dark and horrible reputations among royal ranks, today due in large part to the fictitious vampire that bore his name. However, it is difficult to know just how many of the lurid tales about his murders, executions and multitude of people he had impaled, are actually true. As can be seen, he was surrounded by enemies within his own family, the Hungarian nobility, certainly the Turks and many of these stories may have been fabricated or at least exaggerated to justify their own dishonorable actions. The only place where the name of Prince Dracula does not have negative connotations is in Romania where he is remembered fondly as a national hero; a hard man, even a brutal man to be sure, but who lived in brutal times and who fought against their domination at the hands of the invading Ottomans. Even his connection with the famous vampire is often accepted with good humor by modern Romanians who are glad to welcome vampire obsessed tourists to Transylvania to see the stomping grounds of the original, real Dracula.

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