You might not remember this, but not long ago, zombies were the monster of choice. Slow zombies, fast zombies, funny zombies, Nazi zombies, alien zombies—you name it, there was a zombie for it. Of course, these days it’s all about vampires. But this October, zombies are making a comeback…as zombies tend to do.
On Halloween night at 10:00 p.m. (9:00 p.m. CST), AMC is airing the 90-minute premiere episode of The Walking Dead, a new television series based on the popular comic book written by Robert Kirkman, drawn by Tony Moore and Charlie Adlard, and published by Image Comics. The Walking Dead tells the story of a disparate group of people trying to survive the aftermath of the now seemingly inevitable zombie apocalypse.
Horror is new ground for AMC, the basic cable channel best known for the hot, Emmy-winning shows Mad Men and Breaking Bad. Though it’s hard to imagine a zombie show actually winning awards, I have to admit that The Walking Dead does have an award-winning pedigree, with Frank Darabont (The Shawshank Redemption) and Gale Anne Hurd (Aliens) producing and KNB head honcho Greg Nicotero handling effects.
As you can see below, the show’s trailer looks fantastic. It’s obvious that there’s a pretty large budget involved, especially for a show based on a horror comic book—two genres that have recently escaped from the ghetto due to their ability to turn a large profit at the box office. So, while The Walking Dead might be considered an unusual, even brave, programming choice for AMC, it’s a safe bet that the network will do all right with it. But just in case, AMC hedged its bets somewhat by ordering only six episodes.
Content-wise, the trailer feels somewhat familiar and, at first, a tad too earnest, especially for what is, at heart, a walking dead road trip (I mean, it’s right there in the title). But by the preview’s end, things are a bit more in place tonally, with the 1966 pop song “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore” kicking in to add a welcome touch of bittersweet irony. I’m a fan of the source material, which never takes itself too seriously. Hopefully, the show will be allowed to follow suit.
For added value, I’m embedding another video of some zombies I’d like to see make a comeback. Yes, it’s the ‘60s pop group The Zombies singing “She’s Not There.” Personally, I think AMC would be crazy not to acquire the band’s entire catalog for the almost certain second season of The Walking Dead. The kitschy promotional value alone would make it a good investment, don’t you think?
~Theron Neel
In the late 1960s, the supernatural was the In Thing. I’m sure the decade’s tumultuous social change and death of hope had something to do with it—JFK’s gleaming Camelot quickly gave way to Charles Manson’s brutal murders—and when people feel they’ve lost control, they search for answers anywhere. But enough of this mass psychology drivel. What I’m getting at is in the Age of Aquarius, the occult was everywhere: Anton Szandor LaVey (aka Howard Levey) and his Church of Satan attracted every manner of celebrity; pop parapsychologist Hans Holzer and pop witch Sybil Leek were best-selling authors; even “real” writers got into the game with novels such as 
When I got the record home, I unwrapped it excitedly. “Ooh, cool,” I thought. “It has a fold-out cover.” (I loved those.) I opened it up and—oh my god, there was the blond singer, lying naked on an altar with a skull resting atop her pubic area, surrounded by crazed Satanists! The album also included a poster of this picture, with the lyrics printed on the back of it. Man, this was already an amazing album and I hadn’t even listened to it yet! Then I put the record on. All I can say is, musically, it was average psychedelic acid-tinged rock dressed up with occult themes (think: Cream meets the Jefferson Airplane singing about demons and witches). Although Jinx Dawson could sing fairly well, she was overly dramatic and very earnest about the whole witchcraft angle. Every song on the album is occult-related and several border on cornball. Titles include “Dignitaries of Hell,” “For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge,” “White Witch of Rose Hall” and “Pact with Lucifer” (“Pact” was misspelled as “Pack” on the album cover, giving the song a whole new interpretation in my mind: “Me and the Devil are going on vacation!”). But I must admit, there’s some good guitar playing on it and a few catchy tunes that I still like. Many years later, I learned that most of the songs were written to order by a songwriter at the request of the band’s producer, who was most likely hoping that witchcraft would destroy minds and reap dollars.
The album is out there on the internet for anyone that cares enough to look for it. It’s worth hearing if you’re interested in witchcraft and/or the history of rock music, or even if you just want a conversation starter for your next Halloween party. To me, Witchcraft Destroys Minds & Reaps Souls is both a relic from a different time and a link to my childhood. But, mainly, it’ll always be that far-out Satan record with the poster of the naked foxy blond chick.
As we all know, the holidays are right around the corner, breathing down our collective neck much like Leatherface after he chased sweet little Sally through that field with his chainsaw. (Wait, does that even work? Oooh,score! If it does work, then I think it works as both a simile and a metaphor. Let’s see—hmmm, yes, Leatherface would be breathing heavily after chasing Sally while swinging that chainsaw around, and yes, the pressure of the holidays does feel a bit like being threatened by a chainsaw-wielding maniac wearing a mask of human skin. So I think we’re good. Welcome to my head.)
In 
All right, that’s all the DVDs I can think of, but let’s move on to the medium of print. I have a couple of goodies here that I absolutely feel good about recommending because I own them myself. Although I shelled out my hard-earned cash for these tomes, I would’ve loved to have received them as gifts. And if I had, I would’ve thought the gifter was an extraordinarily hip person ‘cuz these are very cool books.
If you know anyone that loves horror but doesn’t love Creepy—that wonderfully subversive horror comics mag from the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s, hosted by the pun-loving Uncle Creepy—I would love to meet them. Scratch that. I do not want to meet them. No, hold on. Actually, I do want to meet them so that I can introduce them to it, because if they don’t love Creepy, it’s only because they’ve never heard of it. Luckily, Dark Horse has started reprinting the magazine, as the 
Evil snake women, profane pagan rituals, human sacrifice, blasphemous psychedelic visions, women in bondage, topless nuns, bagpipe abuse—yes, I can only be talking about one film: 
Though I’ve given a quick plot summary, please don’t think that conveys what this film is. As the saying goes: It’s not what a film is about, it’s how it’s about it. And Russell’s films are a perfect illustration of that maxim. What you read in the previous paragraphs describes a movie that is a straight-ahead neo-gothic thriller, but Russell’s approach and twisted aesthetic provides a film that is more of an experience than words can express.
Another interesting aspect of this flick is its cast. We get to see a young Hugh Grant, before he became king of the rom-com. This is a reminder that Grant used to do edgy work. His character here is introduced as a privileged twit, but acquits himself nicely by film’s end. Grant makes the shift believable and seems to enjoy himself much than he does these days. As Lady Sylvia, Amanda Donohoe steals the film—and not only because she’s often nude. About her role, Donohoe has said, “I’m an atheist, so it was actually a joy. Spitting on Christ was a great deal of fun. I can’t embrace a male god who has persecuted female sexuality throughout the ages.” I think that says it all. And you might remember Catherine Oxenberg from 
Bless Ken Russell. He’s 82 years old and still working. IMDb lists his version of Moll Flanders as being in production, and that story is ripe for Russell’s perverted sensibility. Hopefully, he will continue to shock and entertain us for a while yet. If you want to see what he’s capable of, check out The Lair of the White Worm. I guarantee you’ll never look at Bram Stoker—or worms—the same way again.
Sure, there are plenty of horror rockers around these days to unsettle your parents: Marilyn Manson, GWAR, Lordi, Rob Zombie, the Jonas Brothers. But as scary as these guys are, they wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for the efforts of one particular ghoul—Alice Cooper, hallowed be his name.
