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Nocturnal Admissions
By D.K. Holm
May 30, 2006
[nota bene: The following column, by necessity, contains some spoilers! If you don't want to know the ending of the movies mentioned, don't read on.]
Snakes on a Plain
STEPHEN KING'S DESPERATION
Here is my audio review of DESPERATION.
Mick Garris appears to be the Stephen King-approved director of adaptations of his work to the screen, big and small. Thus far, he has helmed small screen versions of Riding the Bullet, The Shining (the King approved version), The Stand, and Sleepwalkers, where the collaboration appears to have begun. A fellow writer, his early stuff includes *batteries not included and The Fly II and currently he's the creator of the Masters of Horror series for Showtime.
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Garris obviously brings some key qualities to his work with King, and among them is probably loyalty to King himself and his vision and his texts, and a love of horror films. He got his start in films such as Critters, the kind of low budget but enthusiastic horror film that King appears to love and which he has emulated in some of his own film work and in the novels. King, in case you didn't know, or haven't read Danse Macabre which I assume he still stands by, has unorthodox taste in horror films. He spurns subtle horror films such as Val Lewton's Cat People in favor of harsher fare. He's more like the teenage boy who is the perfect audience for his work than a cinephile looking past the substance of the film and instead gazing on the traces of an auteur such as Hawks or Siegel.
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Which isn't to say that Garris fails to bring some visual flair or his own personal horror obsessions to his work on King's films. He is more than just a useful tool. In Desperation, ostensibly made for television and aired on ABC on Monday, May 23rd, the camera takes some extreme slants on the action and offers wide angle views of its main characters, especially mysterious and vulgar cop Collie Entragian (Ron Perlman) — I think King hates dogs; it appears to be a theme in his work. Garris also executes a nifty 360 pan shot, among other visual wonders.
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Anyway, Desperation begins simply enough. A horror version of film soleil, the tale starts out with Mary (Annabeth Gish) and Peter Jackson (E.T's Henry Thomas) driving a relative's car through Nevada. But it is a sick Nevada. A cat is crucified on a speed marker, and empty cars litter the roadside, overseen by vultures. We soon learn the reason for all the empty cars, however, when officer Entragian, who calls the desert his house, "ruled by the wolf and the scorpion," pulls them over for a missing license plate. Finding a healthy bag of grass in the trunk is all the excuse he needs to haul them in, but his driving is erratic and he unexpectedly inserts the phrase "I'm going to kill you" into their Miranda rights. Brought to the seemingly abandoned town of Desperation, where Entragian enacts summary judgment on Jackson and then throws Mary in the brig, she joins a rag tag group of frightened travelers. Among them is the Carver family, which is at odds with itself.
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Whereupon the film then catches up with Steve Ames (Steven Weber) and a hitchhiking free spirit (a common figure in King's work) named Cynthia Smith (Kelly Overton). Ames appears to be a casualty of the '60s, often making weird reaction double takes. As is often the case in King, there is a writer involved — write what you know, they say — and Ames works for a prestigious but condescending writer named John Edward Marinville (Tom Skerritt), author of Delight and Song of the Habit (I think that's what I heard, anyway). Cynthia prefers "Dean Koontz." Marinville is the recipient of a Clockwork Orange style assault to the tune of "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off," while Smith and Ames go off on a trek to rescue him from the irrational cop.
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The "suspense" of the film revolves around just who or what Collie Entragian is or has become. We learn that he is a denizen of the desert, and one of the prisoners is Tom Billingsly (Charles Durning), the county vet who admits to treating Entragian's pet dogs, back before Collie Entragian "got bigger." Entragian is eroding before our eyes. What starts out looking like cold sores becomes over time huge bleeding orifices. We soon come to learn that Entragian has methodically slaughtered the town, and has simply donned the cop's uniform in order to lure stray tourists into his holocaust. The city, like in other King alt-universe efforts such as The Langoliers, is a strange landscape, where a nearby computer can induce orgasms (or at least romantic feelings) and a slot machine rewards the bettor with a flood of blood (one of two or three allusions or variations on The Shining). Wolves line the roads like praetorian sentries, and a snake, from among a multitude, hiding in a corpse is likely to give the illusion that the person is still alive. Eventually, Entragian renders Mrs. Carver as the next in demonic possession, and ultimately we learn that, as in Poltergeist and other films, that Desperation is the victim of its horrid legacy, in this case, a disaster that killed numerous Chinese mine workers, and which unleashed an "earth demon" named Tak.
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As in The Hidden and numerous other works, the demon moves from person to person, the virus like monster consuming its victim even as it wills him to kill others. The goal of the team eventually comes down to stopping up the area in the mine where the organic head demon rests, and the Vietnam vet among the group, as a penance for sins committed during that war, is the man to do it.
Every time someone turns around, little David Carver (Shane Haboucha) is praying. The Carver family is riven by faith issues. The mother is mad at God for reasons similar to Mel Gibson's in Signs. But despite this, eventually little David becomes the No. 1 expert on Tak, the evil demon.
When I saw the kid praying for the first time, I realized something key about King and his oeuvre. Essentially, he writes children's books. Kids are at the center of his novels, the sensibility is of a kid's, and the readership is essentially that of sophisticated kids (whatever their age). The books have a kid's sense of humor (the vomiting in Stand By Me is one of hundreds of examples). The theological discussions, if sincere and not a bald faced effort to pander to the heartland, are also, well, childish.
Little David likes to enlist everyone around him in theological debates, usually about what he calls "Good old free will," one discussion of which precedes a flashback excursion into Viet Nam. At the end of the film, little David still manages to respect God even after God, or at least the forces of evil free of God's restraint, has killed his brother, sister, mother, and father. "God is love," he concludes, "God is everything. That's what makes him God." I suppose that is vague enough to satisfy the Bible Belters, while at the same time allowing wiggle room for the odd Buddhist horror fan watching the tube.
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If the discussion within the film were more intense or sophisticated it might have tapped into the interesting conundrum of good and evil in horror films. It's both a theological and a practical issue. In older films, evil was fighting or undermining God via proxy battles on earth. Justification for doing good resided in doing God's work or following his precepts. In an increasingly secular age, however, the justification for evil in a narrative like a horror film becomes scarier and also more problematic, and there is nothing with which to fight all powerful evil, and there are no "rules" with which to finally squash it. Assuming that a filmmaker knows what he is doing in the first place, a horror film in modern times becomes a search for something believably scary that can be combated within consistent parameters. On this higher plain, I fear that Desperation fumbles.
So, Desperation ends up being something of a long slog, is rather predictable in its later half, and is a tad too talky, but I liked its energy, its visual sass, its use of the desert landscape, and its creativity with other elements of modern film, which includes an amusing use of the Talking Heads's version of "Take Me to the River."
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Just as back in the old movie days when each studio had its own personality, today's networks each have their own identity. If Paramount was "classy" compared to Warner's gritty realism, and Fox's earnestly threadbare social protest films contrasted clearly with MGM's musical gloss, so today's networks exist in contradistinction to each other. CBS is the stolid station specializing in bland crime shows, its menu of programs geared to seniors, and its shows fairly uniform in presentation, while Fox is the lively rambunctious "try anything" broadcaster, hooking young viewers with its intense shows where the energy is ratcheted up, and where big government is invariably evil. The WB is for African Americans, and UPN for girls. NBC currently has no personality, while ABC is comedic and family oriented, with a few shows that push the envelope.
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Therefore you occasionally wonder how a program obviously meant for one network got on another. For example, how did Night Stalker (Buena Vista Home Entertainment, 2005, 426 minutes, color, NR, 1.75:1 enhanced, DD 5.1 in English with English subtitles, animated musical menu with six-chapter scene selection per episode, one-page insert with contents, dual disc keep case, two discs, $29.95, released on Tuesday, May 30, 2006) end up on ABC, where it was subsequently blanded out, and not Fox, where the filmmakers could have taken more risks?
Even ABC found that it didn't like it and cancelled it after about five or six airings. That's probably because it fit neither in the ABC camp, nor the Fox style camp. It was created by X-Files alum Frank Spotnitz, and one of the inspirations for that show was the old Night Stalker series with Darren McGavin. But besides being bland, there are several other reasons why the show failed, at least aesthetically.
Journalists are no longer interesting on television. At least the way they are presented here. America hates journalism and journalists. I'm talking about the fly over people, not the president-haters who frequent political blogs. The masses don't understand journalism or its role in society. They are vaguely suspicious of its intrusiveness, and modern tabloid TV hasn't helped matters.
The cast was dull. It was primarily three pretty people who were unbelievable as journalists. Stuart Townsend struggled to maintain his American accent, Gabrielle Union wasn't hard-edged or selfish enough to be journalist (and long after X-Files we are now bored with the skeptical harridan role is such shows), and the photographer / hanger-on had a girl's name. The show needed more gristle, more distinctive craggy faced guys like the ones who populated the X-Files. In fact, if Judd Hirsch had been hired to play Kolchak, instead of the dad in Numb3rs (see below), it might have made for a better series.
The theme song was bad. I know that it was composed by Philip Glass and he is a great composer, but he is good at the long distance not the short fragment, and his theme was soaring and operatic, not scary, like the X-Files's theme. The show didn't grab you from the get go.
Night Stalker started out almost promisingly. Transferred to Los Angeles from the original Seattle, it had a broader (and easier) canvas, and looked like it was going to strive for some visual distinction. The shots of a mom in a shower, and of Union looming on the phone with LA traffic in the background (I believe that this show used the same location as Michael Mann's Robbery Homicide Division) were good. But as the subsequent episodes wore on, there appears to have been no time for such fillips (the show was shot by Rick Maguire, Clark Mathis, and Robert Primes).
I hate to keep comparing NS to the X-Files but the mysteries in the new show weren't all that interesting, either, blending as they did human anomalies with new technologies and Kolchak's dull search for his wife's killers, and with a high, callous body count. I grew quickly bored with the show.
Nevertheless, Buena Vista has created a fantastic package honoring the short-lived show. The two disc set includes the six aired episodes and four more, the new ones starting off with the second half of a two part story whose lack of conclusion at the time that must have left real fans of the series hanging desperately when it was cancelled. Plus, the fan can print out two other written but unshot episodes via DVD-ROM. There are two audio commentary tracks, on disc one over the pilot, by Frank Spotnitz, Daniel Sackheim, and John Peter Kousakis, and again on disc two over "The Sea," the unaired part twoer. Finally there is a six-minute "Conversation with Frank Spotnitz," which you are surprised to learn was shot after the show was cancelled (because it is so promo-like), and three deleted scenes.
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In Night Stalker, one of its visual techniques was to put words on screen as they were spoken, a style out of TV commercials that Tony Scott has incorporated into his narrative films such as Man on Fire. In other words, Night Stalker was more Tony Scott-like than the show he really did produce, with his brother, Numb3rs: The Complete First Season (CBS DVD/Paramount, 2005, 9 hours, 4 minutes, color, NR, 1.75:1 enhanced, DD 5.1 in English, with English subtitles, animated musical menu with five-chapter scene selection per episode, one-page insert with contents, folding tray package in slip case, four discs, $63.95, released on Tuesday, May 30, 2006), which began airing in January of 2005, and proved to be an efficient if essentially conventional crime procedural despite the trick of including a math prof who helps solve crimes.
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The setting is the Los Angeles office of the FBI, where Special Agent Don Eppes (Rob Morrow, counter-intuitively cast) calls upon his brother, Charlie (David Krumholtz) as a special consultant to solve troublesome crimes, from catching a serial killer to tracking down a truck load of radioactive material. This four-disc set gathers the 13 episodes of the first season, which sets up the premise and provides, over the course of the shows, some backstory (that Don was originally in the suspect recovery division of the FBI in the southwest, where he also had a girlfriend among the ranks of his colleagues, and came back to L.A. when his mom grew sick and died; Charlie continues to live with their retired city planner dad, Judd Hirsch, who lives in an Arts and Crafts house).
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Like most CBS crime shows (except CSI), it is stolid, efficient work, but not too outrageous, in order not to offend the older viewers who are the network's bread and butter. The show is well-meaning (CBS has helped create teacher tie-ins) and aside from the occasional serial killer doesn't "descend" to picturesque brutality, like some of the Fox shows. NCIS is probably its closest equivalent.
What's fascinating about it is how much the show changed from conception to realization. In comparison to Night Stalker, it's an object lesson in how to fine-tune a show. For example, the pilot originally had a shorthaired Charlie, who had a different brother and a different father (Len Cariou). There was also more tension between the brothers, "Don" being more of a football and beer guy, and with an added sexual competition between them. Also lacking were the graphics that illustrate Charlie's inner life and his scientific lectures. The show was much more focused on Charlie, and Don had a boss played by Anna Deavere Smith. The subsequent TV show changed most of this, including adding a different boss (Anthony Heald) who lasted for only the pilot, and a chick sidekick (Sabrina Lloyd), who vanishes later in the season, all evidence of continual tinkering even after the massive changes from the first pilot to the second pilot.
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Much of this is explicated in the "Crunching Numb3rs: Season One" making of featurette, and more so in "Point of Origin: Inside the Unaired Pilot," a 12-minute explication of the changes. It's a fascinating supplement.
There are also five audio commentary tracks (on the pilot with co-creators Cheryl Heuton and Nicolas Falacci along with Krumholtz and Morrow; "Uncertainty Principle" with Heuton Falacci, co-executive producer David W. Zucker and Krumholtz; "Counterfeit Reality" with Heuton, Falacci, supervising producer-writer Andrew Dettmann, and director Alexander Zakrzewski; "Sniper Zero" with Heuton, Falacci, Zucker and guest star Lou Diamond Philips; and "Dirty Bomb" with Falacci, director Paris Barclay, Judd Hirsch, and Krumholtz) followed by audition tapes with optional commentary by Mark Saks, "Do the Math: The Caltech Analysis," "Charlievision: FX sequences 1.0," and a blooper reel.
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Recall the 1950s? Rebel Without a Case, The Wild One, High School Confidential? Times have changed, and the current 2000s decade is more like the 1950s than the '50s were in terms of conformity and passivity. Thus, the most popular movie on the Disney Channel is High School Musical (Disney DVD, 2006, 98 minutes, color, TVG, one single sided dual layered disc, full frame, DD 5.1 in English, animated musical menu with 12-chapter scene selection, one-page insert with chapter titles, keep case, one disc, $26.95, released on Tuesday, May 23, 2006), an original musical directed by Disney standby Kenny Ortega, and written by Peter Barsocchini, who produced Merv Griffin's show in the 1980s. It began airing in January of 2006.
Apparently the kids are wild about this show. It takes place in East High School, and concerns Gabriella Montez (Vanessa Anne Hudgens), who meets basketball star Troy Bolton (Zac Efron) during karaoke, because both love singing. In a very pasteurized version of Dead Poet's Society, Troy's dad opposes his son when Troy wants to audition and appear in the school's musical production with Gabriella. There is also a "mean girl" and her boyfriend or brother or something.
My take on this show is that it reflects little if anything real about modern high schools, has a paucity of "story," and a passel of unmemorable songs. The dancing is OK. As far as TV musicals go, I much prefer the adaptation of Reefer Madness.
The disc comes with a modest number of supplements, geared to its tweener fans. There are two music videos derived from the show ("I Can't Take My Eyes Off of You" and "We're All in This Together"), plus a making of called "Bringing It All Together: The Making of High School Musical, and a short multi-angle (remember those) featurette called "Learning the Moves," in which Ortega walks the viewer through a rehearsal. There is also a "Sing Along With the Movie" option. Trailers appear for Leroy and Stitch, Eight Below, Brother Bear 2, Spymate, The Suite Life of Zack and Cody, The Little Mermaid, Meet the Robinsons, Cowbelles, That's So Raven).
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One of my most prized novelty possessions is a half sheet for The Seven-Ups (Fox, 1973, 103 minutes, color, one double sided single layered disc, 1.85:1 (enhanced) and full frame option, DD stereo in English, DD mono in English, Spanish, and French, with English and Spanish subtitles, static musical menu with 20-chapter scene selection, keep case, $14.95, released on Tuesday, May 23, 2006). It shows Roy Scheider in one of the dramatic climaxes of the film, gun raised in violence, but his face showing both triumph and remorse.
The Seven-Ups was producer Philip D'Antoni's follow up to Bullitt and the Oscar-triumphant The French Connection (Bullitt got an Oscar, too). The urban crime thriller, be it film noir, film soleil, film glacé, or just plain grim is my favorite genre, and the early '70s was an especially fruitful time for its gritty urban version, what with The Taking of Pelham One Two Three and Death Wish, and The Seven-Ups is one of the most unremitting, as wells as one of several unofficial sequels to French Connection, at least in tone. It's got a chase scene that is surely as intense as the one in Connection, but though it remains one of my favorite "guilty pleasures" (guilty, because I know it's deeply flawed and as a responsible film writer can't blithely recommend it to strangers), I can see why this film failed to catch hold.
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Though famous as a producer, The Seven-Ups is the only film Philip D'Antoni directed. In this regard he reminds me a little of James B. Harris, who ferried the works of a famous director to the screen (in Harris's case, Kubrick, in D'Antoni's case, Peter Yates and William Friedkin) before taking the helmer's reins himself to do intense procedurals. In The Seven-Ups, Roy Scheider plays New York City Police Department investigator Buddy Manucci, a variation on his "Sunny" Russo. He's running a secret task force mandated with catching criminals guilty of crimes punishable by a minimum sentence of seven years. Manucci is successful so far because he has a snitch deep in the world of crime, one Vito Lucia (Tony Lo Bianco), a childhood friend from the neighborhood who now owns a mortuary. But Lucia is double-crossing his buddy. He has taken Manucci's secret hit list of mobsters and set up a scheme of serial kidnappings, confident in the fact that the mobsters won't go to the cops. Of course, everything unravels.
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The Seven-Ups has a rather convoluted plot that clashes with the realism of its affect, and whenever I re-see it I say, "Oh, yeah, that's what this one was about." Though The Seven-Ups has all the street-wise, cement and wrought iron, 15-degrees-below-zero environment of Connection it gets bogged down in the mechanics of the kidnappings, and the big chase scene results in the good guys losing.
Even the set up to the famous chase is convoluted. First there is a Mafia funeral. The 7Ups are outside monitoring it. Inside, the gangsters are debating what to do about the serial kidnappings. One of the Mafia thugs on the sidewalk notes that a chauffeur has a wire. He's Ansel (Ken Kercheval) the family man Up. He's beaten and then smuggled out to a garage to stand in as the latest payment to the kidnappers by the rebellious gangsters. Manucci and another Up follow the Hearse, and are in the garage in time to see the kidnappers (Bill Hickman, Richard Lynch) turning the scene into a killing ground. With Hickman driving, the duo flee the scene; Manucci follows them, through the streets of the city and beyond.
It's a terrific chase (and is devoid of music) but the film leads up to it confusingly and descends from it shakily. The Ups act outside the law, and Manucci ends up betraying his betraying friend, with seemingly no remorse (though there is a strange look on his face) In fact, Manucci has treated Lucia with a certain measure of contempt that almost justifies Lucia's schemes according to a different moral compass. Still, The Seven-Ups is a nifty drama and a fine time capsule.
The double sided disc has the theatrical teaser on the A side, along with the full frame version of the film, while the B Side contains a 12-minute contemporaneous making of that recounts how the film's spectacular chase scene was conceived and executed.
Four times removed from its source, Compulsion (Fox, 1959, 103 minutes, black and white, one single sided dual layered disc, 2.35:1 (enhanced), DD stereo in English, DD 4.0 in English, Spanish mono, and French stereo, with English and Spanish subtitles, static musical menu with 20-chapter scene selection, keep case, $14.95, released on Tuesday, May 23, 2006) which started out as an actual event before being turned into a novel by Meyer Levin in 1956, became the movie Compulsion three years later, and which only now appears on DVD in 2006.
The case, of course, is Chicago's Leopold - Loeb case of 1924, famous not only because it was a "sign of the times" thrill killing, but because the defendants, scions of wealthy Jewish families (as was the victim, Bobby Franks), were defended by Clarence Darrow, then at the height of his fame.
On May 21 192, 14-year-old Franks was reported missing, possibly kidnapped. Before the $10, 000 dollar ransom could be paid by the family, however, Franks's body was discovered in a culvert, his face burned with acid and reportedly his genitals mutilated. A unique pair of eyeglasses found near the corpse were linked to 19-year-old Nathan Leopold, a genius who could speak nine languages and was already through college and in law school. The ransom note was also tied to his typewriter. He and his intimate pal, Richard Loeb were arrested, and proceeded to shamelessly bask in the media attention, claiming themselves to be Nietzschian supermen above the petty morals of the plebeians (Loeb also "helped" the police on the case before he was a suspect). Darrow, summoned by the families, had them plead guilty so that he could argue his case against capital punishment to the judge only, at which logorific task he was ultimately successful. Both got life plus 99 years and were confined to separate prisons. Loeb was stabbed to death in the shower a few years later, and Leopold was released on parole in 1958, whereupon he fled to Puerto Rico, married a widow, and died in 1971. He published an account of his life that begins with the moment the duo is sentenced (Leopold reports nothing before that moment, a change from his days as a suspect when he and Leob regaled reporters with grisly details of their crime and their personal practices).
For some reason the crime has fascinated artists. Hitchcock's Rope is based on a play that fictionalizes the crime. After Compulsion there was the indie film Swoon, an arty and highly sympathetic account of the boys. Both Kiss the Girls and Murder By Numbers are influenced by the case, as is Scream indirectly. A play, a musical, and a graphic novel have also celebrated or at least contemplated the case. These accounts always concentrate solely on the Franks case and trial, but there is some evidence that Leopold and Loeb committed or at least attempted other crimes (coded as ABCDE in their papers) that may have included prior murders and mutilations. In a way, there ar the Anne Perry - Pauline Parker of America.
But I'm note sure how much the public really cares about this case. The attraction to Compulsion lay in its notable closing speech by Orson Welles as Darrow-clone Jonathan Wilk, highly touted at the time but now rather hammy-loooking with Welles relaying on his small catalog of ticks and speech patterns.
To helm the film Fox drew upon the then young skills of Richard Fleischer, son of the cartoonist Max, and who had had a hit for Disney with 20000 Leagues Under the Sea and had done several "modern" noirs. Fleischer reported in his delightful autobiography, Just Tell Me When to Cry, that he only had Welles for 10 days (thanks to Welles's tax problems with both California and the United States), and yet got along famously with Welles, who didn't try to "direct" the film, or undermine his authority, as a Brando might have done as a test. However Welles did have trouble remembering lines (like Brando), but wouldn't admit it. He had a problem looking other actors in the eye. When he did shots in which the other character was off screen, he spoke the lines to the air; when he had to address E. G. Marshall (the DA) during the famous final speech, he asked the actors to close their eyes (turning them into radio listeners).
Credited to writer Richard Murphy from Levin's novel, the film follows the orginal case closely. Judd Steiner (Dean Stockwell, playing the Leopold character) and Artie Straus (Bradford Dillman) follow the traditional psychology of the pair as originally enunciated by Patrick Hamilton in his play Rope, i.e., that Loeb was the adventure's ringleader and Leopold the passive disciple. In flat black and white, the film chronicles everything about the case except the actual murder, and only hinting at the pair's physical relationship, while imaginging a love interest for the "gentler" Leopold with the girlfriend of a reporter (Martin Milner) covering the case. Overall, the film covers the procedure of the case, closely hewing to the timeline. The closet equivalent is Corman's excellent Valentine's but without the time codes and narration.
Aside from Welles's haminess the only "flaws" in the film figure in its grossest deviations from the facts. Darrow, for example, was an outspoken atheist. But Wilk must make a final comment that lends ambiguity to his religious beliefs, and startles the ungrateful Steiner. A Hollywood film just couldn't have an atheist in it without undermining him or hinting to the audience that he is a closet Christian. In any case, the rest of the film is gripping, despite the numerous dances it has to make around gayness, Jewishness, and atheism.
The disc has a fine widescreen transfer but no extras.
And incidentally, if you are interested in KILL BILL, you might find my new book, KILL BILL: AN UNOFFICIAL CASEBOOK useful. It is now available in fine bookstores everywhere, or from Amazon.
Not only that, I've got a new book out on an aspect of film noir I call film soleil, titled simply FILM SOLEIL. It is sure to alter film criticism as we know it to its very core. Order it now!
In addition, I've got a new book coming out later this year from Pocket Essentials, this one on Independent Cinema. It covers the history of this much cited modern film "style," with special focus on the careers of Jill and Karen Sprecher, Guy Maddin, and James Mangold, among others. Order it now!
And if you are interested in what I sound like, I can be heard on KBOO radio (90.7 FM) the second and the fourth Wednesday of the month, at 9 AM in the morning (Pacific Standard Time) on Ed Goldberg's show MOVIE TALK along with Dawn Taylor. It's available via streaming audio (in 20 Kbps Stereo). The next broadcast is Wednesday, June 14, at 9 AM.
COMING SOON: Oscar winners on DVD, Louis Malle, Val Lewton, a package of Hitchcock movies and TV shows, REMINGTON STEEL and other TV mystery shows, many STAR TREKS, the third annual DVD Tray of Horror part 2, and more!
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