Let's talk horror. From classic tales to the latest on screen, it's a genre that just refuses to stay buried, wouldn't you agree? My own mum was a huge fan, though I know it's not for everyone. The buzz around Sky Atlantic's "The Last of Us" and the anticipation for June's "28 Years Later" prove the zombie apocalypse – and horror in general – is alive and kicking. It feels like every time you think it's over, it claws its way back. So, are you a horror enthusiast? And what's the one film you'd happily revisit? For me, it's all about the psychological chills, and I've got my top three lined up. What about yours? (P.S. I've noticed the comment box isn't functioning right now, but if you have any feedback you'd really like to share, please feel free to email me at vince.taylor3@icloud.com)
The Devil You Knew: My Brush with The Exorcist at the Regal, Uxbridge
For a young teenager growing up in the UK in the early 1970s, whispers of a film called The Exorcist hung in the air like a malevolent fog. Based on William Peter Blatty’s chilling novel of the same name – a book I, perhaps unwisely, devoured cover to cover – it promised a cinematic experience unlike any other. So, when the film finally landed in Uxbridge at the Regal cinema on September 24th, 1974, there was only one thing for my mates and me to do: try and sneak in.
Looking back, our plan was laughably naïve. A gaggle of wide-eyed fourteen-year-olds attempting to blend into the queue for the most controversial horror film of the decade? Unsurprisingly, our subterfuge didn't last long. We were spotted, likely looking far too young and nervous, and promptly ejected back onto the Uxbridge high street, our dreams of demonic possession on the big screen cruelly dashed.
So, my first encounter with The Exorcist wasn't in the darkened, hallowed halls of the Regal, but rather years later when it finally made its way to British television sometime in the 1980s. By then, the mystique had somewhat faded, though the anticipation was still palpable. However, the version that flickered across our living room screen was a far cry from the terrifying tales I'd conjured in my mind while reading Blatty's book. It was heavily edited, sanitised for a mainstream audience, losing much of the visceral impact that had made it so notorious.
Scenes that had sent shivers down my spine in the book were either cut entirely or so fragmented that their power was significantly diminished. The raw intensity, the unsettling atmosphere – much of it was lost in translation to broadcast standards. Even then, though, a flicker of the film's unsettling brilliance managed to shine through, enough to leave a lasting impression.
It's funny to think about it now. A film that once caused such widespread controversy, that had people fainting in cinemas and sparked religious debates, now feels almost quaint in comparison to the graphic depictions of demonic entities that permeate modern horror. The jump scares and unsettling imagery that once seemed so ground-breaking now appear relatively tame in a landscape saturated with extreme gore and relentless shock tactics.
Yet, despite the tamer television cut and the evolution of the horror genre, The Exorcist retains a certain power. Its strength lay not just in the shock value, but in its exploration of faith, good versus evil, and the terrifying vulnerability of the human spirit. While my teenage attempt to witness its cinematic terror in Uxbridge ended in failure, my eventual viewing, however diluted, sparked a lifelong fascination with the darker corners of storytelling. And who knows, maybe one day I'll revisit the unedited version and finally experience the full force of the devil that once eluded me at the Regal.
Dusting Off the Past (and Maybe a Vampire or Two)
Right, so here I am, in the throes of a cleaning frenzy. You know how it is – sometimes the best way to avoid actual life is to wage war on dust bunnies. And what do you find in the forgotten corners of your existence during such a noble endeavour? Treasures! Or, in my case, a slightly sticky VHS tape labelled, in my own youthful scrawl, "From Dust Til Dawn." Cue the nostalgic swoon.
This little relic instantly transported me back to a time when rewinding was a genuine chore and the internet was something you only heard about in sci-fi films. I remember taping this bad boy off the telly – must have been after its UK cinema release in '96. Didn't catch it on the big screen back then, life, in the Royal Navy, as it often does, got in the way of cinematic vampire mayhem.
Speaking of cinematic vampire mayhem, you can't utter those words without a respectful nod to the king, the legend, the one and only Christopher Lee. My mum was practically a card-carrying member of the House of Hammer fan club, and Lee's Dracula was her pin-up ghoul. Forget your brooding, sparkly vampires of later years; Lee was the OG neck-biting sex maniac, stalking through glorious Technicolor from '66 to '73. You almost felt a bit sorry for his victims, didn't you? Almost.
It's a tough life being a vampire, though, when you think about it. Back in the day, watching "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", with my daughter Emma, there was Sarah Michelle Gellar's righteous stake-wielding heroine, taking out a fair few of their undead brethren. And now, Hugh Jackman (yes, Wolverine himself!) has seemingly channelled Peter Cushing's Van Helsing into some kind of super heroic vampire hunter. The odds are stacked against them!
And let's not forget the golden rule, the one-way ticket to dusty oblivion for any self-respecting bloodsucker: decapitation. Off with their blooming heads! The Winchester brothers in 'Supernatural' certainly knew the drill. That show! I only mentioned it to my lad a few years back, thinking he might enjoy a spooky episode or two. Cut to the present day, and the boy has mainlined all fifteen series and 327 episodes! Twice. Clearly, I underestimated the Winchester charm (and the sheer volume of supernatural beasties they dispatch). "Saving people, hunting things. The family business."
Anyway, back to my dusty VHS and From Dust Till Dawn. What a ride that film was (and probably still is, though I might need to find a working VCR to confirm, but my wife wants to whisk away all my old gadgets); anyhow, you’ve got the Gecko brothers, Seth (cool as Clooney in a heist gone wrong) and Richie (Tarantino doing his unhinged thing), kidnapping a poor old minister and his kids to make a run for the Mexican border. Their pit stop? The legendary "Titty Twister," which turns out to be less about tequila shots and more about, well, a whole lot of very angry vampires.
The genius of that film was the glorious genre switcheroo. One minute you're in a gritty crime thriller, the next you're knee-deep in a bloodbath with some seriously gnarly creatures. It was over-the-top, darkly funny, and undeniably stylish, thanks to Robert Rodriguez's direction.
And speaking of vampires on the big screen, it seems the bloodsucking genre is still kicking, albeit perhaps with a new-fangled twist, if this "Sinners" film currently doing the rounds is anything to go by. Vampires in the Jim Crow South? Sounds like a whole different kind of bite.
Right, well, the dust bunnies are quivering in fear, and my trip down VHS memory lane has been… enlightening. Now, if you'll excuse me, I might just have to dig out or find an old VCR on “I need a whisk” - a local site where people in our area just fly tip their old stuff for free or maybe Amazon Prime streams it - btw Teresa , I keep my gadgets, for science, you understand me right ? And maybe I might just get that very sharp axe out from the shed. Just in case. You never know what lurks in the dusty corners of your past.
From Bing to Bumps: My Descent into the Deliciously Dreadful
Finally, right, gather 'round, you brave souls (or those just procrastinating like me), because we're diving headfirst into the murky waters of the macabre! First up on my "things that make the hairs on the back of my neck do the tango" list: the chilling realisation that people can change. Seriously, one minute they're offering you a cuppa, the next they're plotting your demise. It's more terrifying than finding a spider in your shoe.
And what better way to explore this delightful dread than with a triple bill of cinematic scares: paranormal shenanigans, the unsettling world of psychopaths, and good old-fashioned things that go "boo!" in the dark. Now, when it comes to getting spooked, I've got two main strategies, and one of them involves a certain Mr. Hope. Yes, that Bob Hope. He of the rapid-fire wit and the bromance with Bing Crosby. Turns out, the old smoothie had a dabble in the delightfully dreadful.
My mum, bless her cotton socks, was a big fan of his spooky capers. We snuggled up (or maybe she just gripped my arm tightly) to watch The Cat and the Canary. Picture this: Bob, bless his timid heart, inheriting a creepy Louisiana mansion filled with relatives who looked like they hadn't seen sunlight since the invention of the electric lightbulb, a housekeeper who could curdle milk with a stare, and the looming threat of a homicidal maniac aptly named "The Cat." You'd think Bob's wisecracks would diffuse the tension, but somehow, his sheer terror just amplified mine.
Then there was The Ghost Breakers, where Bob played a radio guy who, after a spot of accidental murder-adjacent activity, hightails it to Cuba with his valet (played with impeccable comedic timing by Willie Best). Naturally, they end up in a haunted castle (because where else would you go to escape trouble?) complete with a beautiful heiress and, you guessed it, zombies! Those pesky undead are everywhere, aren't they? Bob's comedic fluster in the face of the supernatural was strangely… comforting? Or maybe just a momentary distraction before the next jump scare.
But let's move on to the stuff that really makes my blood run colder than a vampire's handshake: the human psyche gone awry. The dreaded "Psychopath." And recently, I've been mainlining 'House' which starts always with Massive Attack's musical sound piece , Teardrop". We know by now, Hugh Laurie is a comedic genius, but his portrayal of the brilliant yet utterly narcissistic Dr. Gregory House gives me the heebie-jeebies in a whole different way. With his sardonic wit, his cane (sound familiar, son?), and that ever-present beard, (I often think of my son when I watch this series and think he's morphing into a real-life House right before my eyes! It's unsettling, I tell you.
The episode that truly burrowed under my skin was Season 6's "Remorse." This Valerie woman… outwardly charming, but underneath? A classic psychopath. No empathy, manipulative as a politician in election year, and a history of using people like disposable cutlery. And you know what? I've met people like that. You probably have too. They charm you, they befriend you, and then BAM! The mask slips, and you're staring into the eyes of a… well, a fiend. Makes you wonder who's buttering your toast in the office, doesn't it? Suddenly that chatty colleague seems a little too friendly.
If you want to delve into the darker side of real-life psychopaths (and have nerves of steel), check out "Monster", where Charlize Theron's Oscar-winning portrayal of Aileen Wuornos is genuinely disturbing. Or Zodiac, which chills you to the bone with the unsolved mystery of a real-life killer lurking in plain sight. And who knew Troy Bolton himself, Zac Efron, could go from singing about basketball to playing the charmingly evil Ted Bundy in "Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile?" Talk about a terrifying career pivot! It just proves my point – people change! It's enough to make you lock your doors and only trust your pets (and even then, keep an eye on them).
Finally, the things that go bump in the actual night. My beloved 27-year-old Catherine was all about Paranormal Activity. Me? Not so much. Found footage of wobbly cameras and unexplained noises just makes me think my house needs better insulation. I can handle a bit of spooky atmosphere, like in Poltergeist or the gloriously over-the-top Amityville Horror. But the idea of something in my own house… nope. Just nope.
It brings back a rather unsettling memory from my newlywed days in married quarters in 1979. I came home late from a night shift, and my ex-wife swore she'd seen someone in our bedroom. Vanished out the window, apparently. For years, it bugged me. Was it a burglar? A figment of a tired imagination? Or… something else? We stayed together for another 26 years, so maybe it was a ghost. Let's just hope it wasn't Bob!
Because that, my friends, would be truly terrifying. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I just heard a floorboard creak…
As always there is a poem (or short story) to end my blogs. So what happens when a love for all things that go bump in the night meets a sprinkle of pop culture magic? I dreamed up this delightfully spooky little ditty, whilst listening to Paul McCartney’s “Wino Junko” a song that appeared on the album "Wings at the Speed of Sound", which was released in the year I joined the Royal Navy in 1976. The song isn't specifically about a "wino junko" in a literal, singular sense, but rather paints a picture of someone struggling with addiction, perhaps blurring the lines between enjoying fine wines and being dependent on other substances that affects personality.
You may also spot an inclusion of the mysterious Michael, it kicks off with a playful nod to the King of Pop's most iconic foray into the frightful... that's right, we're talking about "Thriller"! So, dim the lights, crank up the synth, and let's dive into Michael's creepy and catchy creation:
Michael Jacko, can’t say no...
POEM
Can't Say No to the Night?
Michael Jacko, can’t say no
Zombies, Vampires on the go
Ghoulies, Ghosties, I hope so
From Dust to Dawn again
Something wicked this way comes
Lights are flickering, squeaky bums
Don’t befriend him, he’ll bang your drums
From the Winchester bros again
Make the heart, raise the stake
The only way for Vlad to break
No silver bullet, it’s a head to take
The Last of us again