MonsterGirl’s 150 Days of Classic Horror #52 Deathdream 1974

DEATHDREAM 1974

Deathdream (1974): A Haunting Reflection of Vietnam’s Ghosts and Familial Fracture

Bob Clark’s Deathdream (1974) is a film that pulses with the raw, unhealed wounds of the Vietnam era, a horror allegory as much about the rot within the American family as the literal decay of its undead protagonist. Released in the shadow of the war’s bitter end, the film—co-written with Alan Ormsby (Clark’s collaborator on Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things 1972)—reimagines W.W. Jacobs’ The Monkey’s Paw through a lens of existential dread, blending traditional horror tropes with searing social critique. At its core, it’s a story of grief, denial, and the toxic masculinity that festers beneath the surface of suburban normalcy, all wrapped in a shroud of supernatural unease. Heads up for animal lovers, there is a horrid scene where a little dog is killed.

Richard Backus (well known for his work in daytime television, notably as Barry Ryan on Ryan’s Hope (for which he received a Daytime Emmy nomination) plays Andy Brooks, a soldier who returns home to his family after being killed in Vietnam, after his resurrection granted by his mother Christine’s (Lynn Carlin – an Oscar-nominated actress best known for her powerful debut in Faces (1968), who went on to a thoughtful career playing complex wives and mothers in acclaimed films and television throughout the 1970s and 1980s) desperate wish. Backus’ portrayal is a profound exercise in understated horror: his Andy is hollow-eyed, eerily detached, and physically deteriorating, yet somehow still recognizably human. His slow-burn transformation from a sullen veteran to a bloodthirsty revenant is both tragic and terrifying, a metaphor for the psychological toll of war that feels agonizingly personal during the time of the film’s release. John Marley ( prolific, Oscar-nominated character actor best known for his roles in Faces (1968), Love Story (1970), and The Godfather (1972), whose long career spanned stage, film, and television, with memorable performances as complex fathers, industry moguls, and authority figures across decades of American cinema and TV, as Andy’s father Charles, embodies the patriarchal expectation of stoic masculinity, his initial pride in his son’s military service curdling into shame and rage as Andy’s behavior grows increasingly aberrant. The family’s dynamic—a mother clinging to denial, a father grappling with emasculation, and a sister (Anya Ormsby) caught in the crossfire—becomes a microcosm of a nation struggling to reconcile the myth of heroism with the reality of trauma.

Clark’s seamless direction infuses the film with a dreamlike bleakness, using shadow-drenched cinematography and claustrophobic framing to mirror the family’s spiraling despair. Key scenes linger like open wounds: Andy’s first appearance as a spectral silhouette in the doorway, his mother’s candlelit prayer dissolving into the headlights of the truck carrying his corpse; the gruesome murder of a truck driver, shot with a handheld rawness that feels ripped from a snuff film; and the chilling sequence in a doctor’s office, where Andy’s rotting face is revealed under fluorescent light, Tom Savini’s early makeup work rendering him a grotesque fushion of Karloff’s Frankenstein and a war-torn G.I. The film’s climax, set in a cemetery where Andy’s corpse writhes in a shallow grave, is a gut-punch of nihilism, rejecting catharsis in favor of desolate silence.

Deathdream’s impact on 1970s horror cannot be overstated. Arriving six years after Night of the Living Dead, it redefined the zombie not as a mindless horde but as a solitary, sympathetic monster—a precursor to George Romero’s Martin (1977) and a direct challenge to the era’s exploitation-driven war narratives. By framing Vietnam as a domestic horror, Clark and Ormsby exposed the lie of the “noble sacrifice,” instead presenting a generation of soldiers as collateral damage in a war that left families broken and souls unburied. The film’s unflinching focus on psychological decay over cheap thrills influenced the rise of character-driven horror, while its critique of toxic masculinity and suburban complacency echoed in later works like The Stepford Wives 1975 and Halloween 1978.

Yet Deathdream remains singular in its despair—only a mother cradling her son’s corpse in a smoldering car, whispering, “Andy’s home.” In that moment, Clark captures the irreparable cost of war and the fragility of the American dream, making Deathdream not just a horror classic but a requiem for a generation.

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MonsterGirl’s 150 Days of Classic Horror #34 Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things 1972

CHILDREN SHOULDN’T PLAY WITH DEAD THINGS 1972

Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things (1972) stands as a seminal work in the evolution of 70s horror cinema, a quirky, influential, and enduringly entertaining blending macabre humor with low-budget ingenuity to create a cult classic that saw its influence spread to future indie filmmakers.

Directed by Bob Clark (credited as Benjamin Clark), who would later show off his diverse talents with holiday favorites like the beloved A Christmas Story 1983 and the end of the spectrum of holiday movies with his darkly sinister Black Christmas 1974, this early foray into horror showcases Clark’s versatility and willingness to push boundaries.

Shot on a shoestring budget of $50,000 over just 14 days, the film follows a troupe of hammy actors led by the insufferable Alan (played by Alan Ormsby, who also co-wrote the script and designed the eerie corpse makeup) as they venture to a cursed island cemetery for a mock séance. The cast, which was primarily composed of Clark’s college friends, lends an authentic if amateurish, charm to the proceedings, with many actors using their real first names in a quirky nod to budget constraints. All this seems to contribute to that bit of personal flair the film possesses. The actors include: Valerie Mamches as Val, Jeff Gillen as Jeff, Anya Ormsby as Anya ( I met Anya at Chiller Theater a while back. She was lovely), Paul Cronin as Paul, Jane Daly as Terry, Roy Engleman as Roy, Robert Philip as Emerson, Bruce Solomon as Winns and best of all… Seth Sklarey as Orville Dunworth – Alan’s favorite dead guy!

Cinematographer Jack McGowan transforms Florida’s swampy landscapes into a gothic playground of shadows and mist, creating an atmosphere of creeping dread that adds to not detracts due to the film’s limited resources. This visual style is complemented by Carl Zittrer’s score, which oscillates between carnival-esque whimsy and spine-tingling unease, perfectly capturing the film’s tonal balancing act between horror and dark comedy.

I can’t overstate this enough: Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things serves as a bridge between the voodoo zombies of early cinema and George A. Romero’s flesh-eating ghouls that stalked the streets of Pittsburgh in his Dead saga;  in Clark’s film introducing the concept of occult-summoned undead. This innovative approach to zombie lore and Ormsby’s gruesome yet inventive makeup effects laid the groundwork for future indie horror productions, proving that creativity and passion could often overcome a lack of funding. These movies always tend to be the most compelling!

Moreover, Children Shouldn’t Play with Dead Things helped establish the horror-comedy subgenre that would later flourish with films like Sam Raimi’s The Evil Dead 1983. Its blend of slapstick humor, occult themes, and genuine scares created a template for future filmmakers to explore the intersection of laughter and fear.

As the zombies set sail for Miami in the film’s audacious finale, viewers are left with a sense of the absurd that perfectly captures the movie’s charm.

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MonsterGirl’s 150 Days of Classic Horror #15 Black Christmas 1974

MonsterGirl’s 150 Days of Classic Horror!

BLACK CHRISTMAS 1974

The Dark Side of Christmas: Exploring Bob Clark’s Pioneering Slasher Black Christmas 1974

Bob Clark’s Black Christmas (1974) is a seminal proto-slasher film that laid the groundwork for the genre. It stars Olivia Hussey, Keir Dullea, Margot Kidder, and John Saxon. The film follows a group of sorority sisters who are terrorized by an unknown obscene caller/killer during the Christmas season. It has a ring of urban legend that gives a nod to ‘the killer’s inside the house’ trope. Clark’s direction creates a chilling atmosphere through the innovative use of POV shots and claustrophobic settings within the sorority house as ‘dirty Billy’ stalks his prey.

The film’s most unsettling scenes include the disturbing phone calls from the unseen maniac, whose unhinged rants are masterfully performed by Nick Mancuso and Clark himself (uncredited). Hussey’s portrayal of Jess, a strong-willed protagonist dealing with a personal crisis, adds depth to the typical “final girl” trope. Black Christmas can absolutely be seen through a feminist lens as the empowered Jess (Olivia Hussey) takes command of her own body without the influence of her manipulative and controlling boyfriend, Keir Dullea.

Kidder’s performance as the sharp-tongued Barb provides comic relief that contrasts sharply with the mounting tension. The film’s climax, set in the house’s shadowy basement, is a masterclass in suspense, with Jess confronting both the killer and her boyfriend Peter (Dullea), leaving the audience guessing until the end. Clark’s decision to leave the killer’s identity and motives ambiguous adds to the film’s enduring mystery and psychological impact.

Before John Carpenter’s Halloween in 1978, Black Christmas distinguishes itself with its nuanced approach to horror, merging realistic characters with an unsettling, almost surreal, claustrophobic atmosphere of dread. Clark’s masterpiece has had a profound influence on the genre and the countless slasher films that followed.

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The Dark Side of Christmas: Exploring Bob Clark’s Pioneering Slasher Black Christmas 1974

“This moody depiction of the Christmas slayings… is as murky as the script, which dotes largely on obscenities that are no more pointed than the violence, dull direction and pedestrian performances.” — A.H. Weiler, New York Times, October 20, 1975, page 45.

Released in the U.S. on December 20, 1974, just in time for the holiday season, Black Christmas 1974 creates an authentically unsettling atmosphere. It features one of the earliest and most compelling portrayals of the Final Girl archetype.

While Black Christmas 1974 was initially embraced in its country of origin, Canada, it did not fare as well in the United States. Its transformation into a cult classic is attributed mainly to home video releases and revival screenings. For its American debut, the film was retitled Silent Night, Evil Night.

Black Christmas features an interesting cast, including Olivia Hussey, Keir Dullea, Margot Kidder, Andrea Martin, Lynne Griffin, and John Saxon. The film draws inspiration from the well-known urban legend “The Babysitter and the Man Upstairs” and a series of real-life murders that occurred in Montreal, Quebec. Filmed in Toronto, Canada, in 1974, it was produced on a modest budget of $686,000, comparable to Halloween’s $325,000.

Despite the financial constraints, Bob Clark artfully managed to use the limited resources to create a memorable, deeply disturbing narrative of isolation and terror set against the backdrop of what should be the most joyous time of the year!

Black Christmas 1974 is a groundbreaking horror film that laid the foundation for the slasher genre. It is often credited as the proto-slasher, predating and provoking an abundance of conversations about its influence on later classics like Halloween 1978.

Set during the festive season, the movie follows a group of sorority sisters who become targets of a mysterious and deranged intruder who terrorizes them as they prepare to leave for winter break.

The sorority house begins to receive a series of disturbing, vulgar phone calls that use sexually explicit language to threaten the girls. After one of the sisters goes missing, and the police finally agree to investigate, each of the women is brutally murdered.

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Black Christmas (1974) Bob Clark’s darker Christmas Story “Filthy Billy, I know what you did, nasty Billy!”

BLACK CHRISTMAS (1974)

Directed by Bob Clark (Porky’s 1981, A Christmas Story 1983) Screenplay by Roy Moore (She Cried Murder 1973 tv movie) Cinematographer Reginald H. Morris (When Michael Calls 1972 tv movie, The Food of the Gods 1976, Murder by Decree 1979, Phobia 1980, A Christmas Story 1983).

Reg Morris’ cinematography brings the shadowy moodiness that was the atmospheric style of When Michael Calls a suspenseful made for tv movie in the early 1970s. Cinematographer Albert J. Dunk created Billy’s POV shots by rigging up a camera harness that would mount the camera on his shoulder as he walked about the house and climbed the trellis and attic ladder himself.

Ironically, Clark who has created a deeply dark and disturbing tale set during Christmas, is responsible for one of the most authentically nostalgic, witty, and whimsical tributes to Christmas, the most beloved A Christmas Story. For a director to create the most splendid narrative that reminisces about a more innocent time, it remains a huge cult indulgence every Holiday Season, as we all collectively love to watch Ralph maneuver through the obstacles in his way of getting a Red Rider BB gun. Darren McGavin is brilliant as his old man whose expletives are still floating over Lake Michigan and the soft glow of electric sex in the window from that fabulously kitschy leg lamp. We’ve got one giving off that soft glow as I write this.

Black Christmas stars Olivia Hussey as Jess Bradford, Keir Dullea as Peter Smythe, and Margot Kidder as Barbara. Marian Waldman (When Michael Calls 1972 tv movie, Deranged 1974, Phobia 1980) as Mrs. MacHenry, Andrea Martin as Phyl, James Edmond as Mr. Harrison, Douglas McGrath as Sergeant Nash, Art Hindle as Chris, Lynn Griffin as Clare Harrison, Michael Rapport as Patrick,  and John Saxon as Lt. Fuller. As an interesting note-Nick Mancuso plays the caller/intruder/psycho.

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