MonsterGirl’s 150 Days of Classic Horror #56 THE EVICTORS 1979 & THE TOWN THAT DREADED SUNDOWN 1976

THE EVICTORS 1979

SPOILER ALERT!

Charles B. Pierce’s The Evictors (1979) is a Southern Gothic chiller that quietly burrows under your skin, trading in the same rural unease and period authenticity that defined his earlier cult favorites like Pierce’s The Town That Dreaded Sundown. Set in 1942 Louisiana, the film follows Ben and Ruth Watkins, played by Michael Parks and Jessica Harper, as they settle into a seemingly idyllic farmhouse, only to find themselves ensnared in a decades-old cycle of vendetta and violence. The house, sold to them by the affable but evasive realtor Jake Rudd (Vic Morrow), comes with more than its share of baggage—namely, a string of unsolved murders stretching back to the late 1920s, when the Monroe family was gunned down during a brutal foreclosure standoff.

Pierce, who also handled cinematography, leans into a moody, sepia-tinged palette for the film’s numerous flashbacks, evoking the passage of time and the weight of local legend. These flashbacks, set in 1928, 1934, and 1939, are shot with a chilling, almost photographic stillness, each one peeling back another layer of the house’s bloody history. The present-day scenes are shot with a gritty, naturalistic style that grounds the film in its rural setting—Pierce’s camera lingers on the overgrown fields, creaking porches, and shadowy interiors, creating a sense of claustrophobia and isolation that only tightens as the danger draws closer.

The score by Jaime Mendoza-Nava adds a brooding, sinister undercurrent, amplifying the film’s slow-burn tension. Mendoza-Nava was a prolific Bolivian-American composer and conductor whose career spanned classical music, television, and a wide range of film genres. Trained at prestigious institutions like Juilliard, the Madrid Royal Conservatory, and the Sorbonne, Mendoza-Nava brought a sophisticated musical approach to everything he touched, often weaving in the pentatonic rhythms of his Andean heritage.

In Hollywood, he worked for Walt Disney Studios, composing for classic TV shows such as The Mickey Mouse Club and Zorro, and contributed to the Mr. Magoo cartoon series. He later became a sought-after composer for independent and B-movies, especially in the horror, sci-fi, and exploitation genres, with credits for more than 200 films. Some notable titles include: Five Minutes to Love (1963), Orgy of the Dead (1965), The Black Klansman (1966), The Legend of Boggy Creek (1972), The Brotherhood of Satan (1971), Grave of the Vampire (1972), The Town That Dreaded Sundown (1976), Mausoleum (1983), Vampire Hookers (1978) and The Boys in Company C (1978).

Jessica Harper, best known for her iconic roles in Suspiria 1977 and Phantom of the Paradise 1974, brings a quiet vulnerability to Ruth, who finds herself increasingly isolated as her husband is often away for work. Harper’s performance is understated but powerful; she’s the emotional anchor of the film, and her growing paranoia and dread are evident.

Harper’s acting style is often described as naturalistic and quietly magnetic, a quality that has made her a cult favorite and a memorable presence in some of the most visually arresting films of the 1970s and ’80s. Critics and fans alike have noted her “regular-girl charm” and “wide-eyed girl-next-door appearance,” which lend her a relatable vulnerability, but beneath that surface lies a subtle strength and intelligence that grounds even the most surreal or heightened stories.

A gentle, almost minimalist approach marks Harper’s performances—she conveys emotion through nuanced facial expressions and body language rather than melodrama, making her reactions feel authentic even in the most bizarre circumstances. This quality is especially evident in her horror roles, where she often serves as the audience’s surrogate, guiding viewers through grotesque or nightmarish worlds with a sense of skepticism, resolve, and quiet courage. Her looks have frequently been described as striking yet approachable: large, expressive eyes, delicate features, and a softness that evokes both innocence and a kind of classic, fairy-tale beauty. She’s been called a “pinup for cult film fanatics,” and her “deer in the headlights” quality—often compared to Snow White—has been noted by both critics and Harper herself. Yet, as Harper has pointed out, there’s a “serious strength” and “power” beneath that vulnerable exterior, a duality that makes her such a compelling screen presence.

In Dario Argento’s Suspiria (1977), Harper plays Suzy Bannion, an American ballet student who arrives at a prestigious German dance academy only to discover it’s a front for a coven of witches. The film is renowned for its operatic, nightmarish style—brilliant splashes of primary color, expressionistic production design, and a thunderous prog-rock score by the evocative group Goblin.

In Phantom of the Paradise (1974), directed by Brian De Palma, Harper made her film debut as Phoenix, an aspiring singer caught in a Faustian struggle between a disfigured composer (William Finley) and a manipulative music producer (iconic songwriter Paul Williams). The film is a wild, satirical rock opera, blending horror, comedy, and musical spectacle with De Palma’s trademark visual flair—split screens, bold lighting, and kinetic camera work. As Phoenix, Harper stands out for her unaffected, sincere performance; she plays the only truly likable character in a world of grotesques and egomaniacs. Her singing voice and subtle acting bring warmth and humanity to the film, and her cautious optimism and wariness make her a believable object of obsession for both Finley’s and Williams’s characters.

In The Evictors, Michael Parks, as Ben, is solid and likable. Parks was a remarkably versatile and intense actor whose career spanned over five decades and more than 100 film and television roles. He first gained widespread attention as the soulful drifter Jim Bronson in the late 1960s TV series Then Came Bronson, a role that showcased both his acting and musical talents— the enigmatic French-Canadian gangster Jean Renault in Twin Peaks, and Texas Ranger Earl McGraw in Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill films and Robert Rodriguez’s From Dusk Till Dawn series. Directors like Tarantino wrote roles specifically for him, with director Kevin Smith calling Parks so compelling that all you had to do was “turn on the camera” to get a masterful performance.

Vic Morrow was cast as Jake—the real estate agent with secrets to spare—that gives the film its sly, menacing edge. Sue Anne Langdon also stands out as the seemingly friendly neighbor Olie Gibson, whose wheelchair-bound warmth masks deeper layers of involvement in the house’s dark legacy.

The film’s plot unfolds with a deliberate pace, building tension through suggestion and atmosphere rather than outright violence. Ruth is terrorized by a mysterious, slow-moving figure—often glimpsed lurking in the shadows, overalls and knife in hand—while Ben remains skeptical, leaving Ruth to fend for herself as the sense of threat escalates.

The narrative cleverly weaves in the house’s past through flashbacks, each one revealing another grisly fate met by previous tenants. As the truth unravels, it’s revealed that the Monroe family, thought to have been wiped out in the original shootout, has been orchestrating a real estate scam for years: Jake (actually Todd Monroe), his sister-in-law Olie (Anna/Olie Monroe), and their brother Dwayne (the lurking killer) repeatedly sell the house to unsuspecting couples, then terrorize and murder them, reclaiming the property to sell again.

The climax is a bleak, nihilistic twist—after a final confrontation that leaves Ben dead and Dwayne killed by Jake, Ruth, now unhinged, marries Jake and willingly joins the murderous scheme, perpetuating the cycle for the next wave of victims. It’s a dark, circular ending that lingers, refusing to give us any sense of closure or justice.

While The Evictors is “supposedly based on true events,” as some sources note, the film takes considerable liberties, blending local legend and period detail into a fictional narrative that feels rooted in the anxieties of rural America. Pierce’s knack for evoking a raw, lived-in atmosphere—helped by his own cinematography and a cast of strong character actors—makes the film more than just a haunted house story. It’s a meditation on isolation, paranoia, and the way violence can echo through generations, all wrapped in a deliberately paced, old-fashioned package. Though overshadowed by Pierce’s more famous works, The Evictors stands as an overlooked gem—one that trades jump scares for slow-creeping dread. Once again, this film from Pierce’s imagination has stuck with me all these years.

THE TOWN THAT DREADED SUNDOWN 1976

A Trailer a Day Keeps the Boogeyman Away! Boggy Creeks, Dreaded Sundowns and Mysterious Evictors!

The Town That Dreaded Sundown is a film that lingers in the mind like a half-remembered lucid nightmare, its unsettling grip rooted not just in the brutality of its story, but in the way Charles B. Pierce tells all his stories—with a style that blurs the line between cinéma vérité, true crime drama, police procedural and all with a regional authenticity that seeps into every frame.

I find myself strangely and endlessly captivated by The Town That Dreaded Sundown and the real-life events that inspired it. There’s something about the eerie blend of history and legend, the unsettling atmosphere of Texarkana, and the film’s docu-style storytelling that keeps pulling me back in. No matter how many times I revisit the story, I’m fascinated by the way the mystery and the film give me the willies—and how the line between fact and folklore blurs. I can’t quite explain it, but the effect never seems to fade. The film dramatizes the brutal attacks with a stark intensity that makes the violence feel both on the spot and deeply unsettling.

Pierce, who grew up in the very area haunted by the Texarkana Moonlight Murders, channels his personal memory and local knowledge into a film that feels as much like a piece of oral history as a horror movie. The result is a movie that’s both unnerving and immediate, and oddly intimate. It’s definitely work that stands out in the landscape of 1970s American horror for its rawness and its refusal to sensationalize, well, mostly, yet it does amplify the chilling story.

The film’s style is as noteworthy as its story. Pierce’s The Town That Dreaded Sundown is visually defined by its distinctive, almost documentary-like cinematography. The grit and dramatic tension contribute powerfully to the film’s unsettling atmosphere. The lighting throughout the film is often stark and utilitarian, favoring naturalistic sources rather than decorative aesthetics, enhancing the sense of realism and immediacy. Night scenes are bathed in a harsh, sometimes unforgiving light that casts deep, ominous shadows, while daylight exteriors capture the washed-out, sun-bleached look of the lush rural Arkansas countryside. Shot with a documentarian’s eye—Pierce’s camera lingers on the lonely fields, sunlit days filled with small-town quaintness and the innocence of children playing, contrasted with rain-soaked streets and nights and the sinister, shadowy, quiet, now dangerous woods of Texarkana, using the natural landscape to evoke both nostalgia and dread. The attacks themselves are shot with a jarring, almost clinical detachment. This approach gives the film an authenticity that feels as if you’re watching a piece of true crime reportage rather than a stylized horror movie.

Scenes are shot with a such a matter-of-fact realism that amplifies their horror, making The Town That Dreaded Sundown a film that doesn’t just recount violence, but forces viewers to feel its shock and brutality.

The low-budget 16mm film stock used by Pierce conveys a rough, gritty quality to the images, which not only grounds the story in a specific time and place but also blows up the sense of unease. A key element of the film’s visual identity is its grainy texture. The graininess makes the violence and suspense feel like one of those memories that hits you in … like a memory that flickers in and out, rough around the edges, you almost feel it under your skin, as if the camera is a silent witness to real events rather than an outsider to what is happening. We are literally watching the murders as they happen. This “grimy little flash” of the original film, as later critics have called it, is part of what gives The Town That Dreaded Sundown its lasting power—it feels unvarnished and lived-in, never slick or showy. Pierce’s work never feels overproduced or overanalyzed.

The film’s most notorious scenes—like the horrific trombone murder scene—are shot with a kind of raw intensity, the lighting and beauty of imperfection combining to make the horror feel both surreal and disturbingly plausible.

The film is infamous for its depiction of several gruesome murders, each echoing the real-life terror of the Texarkana Moonlight Murders.

Key moments in the film stick with you: the first attack at Lover’s Lane, where the Phantom’s hooded figure emerges from the darkness; the tense chase through the woods as Peggy Loomis is stalked and murdered with a trombone;  the final home invasion, shot with striking point-of-view angles that anticipate the style of later horror classics. The killer’s anonymity and the film’s refusal to offer closure only heighten the sense of unease. The story ends as it began, with the Phantom still at large, his footsteps echoing in the collective memory of Texarkana as the police chase him through the railroad yard over the tracks only to disappear into oblivion.

One of the most notorious murders portrayed is the infamous “trombone killing.” The murder is staged with minimal music, relying instead on the killer’s heavy breathing and the victim’s anguished cries to create a sense of horror that’s more psychological than graphic, which does more to heighten the terror than diminish or obscure it.

The editing is quick, the camerawork unfussy, and the violence, though not especially bloody, feels brutally real—so much so that Pierce was criticized for its intensity, particularly since his then-wife played the victim in the trombone scene.

In this scene, the Phantom attacks a young couple parked on a lovers’ lane. After subduing the male victim, he chases down the girl, Peggy Loomis ties her to a tree, and then attaches a knife to the end of her trombone. In a chilling display, he repeatedly plays the instrument, each movement driving the blade into her back, creating a moment that is both bizarre and horrifying in its cruelty. That segment of the film still leaves me shaken to my core. As a musician, it would be the equivalent of someone bashing my head to a bloody pulp with the lid of a grand piano.
—The scene is brutal, jarring, and impossible to shake.

Another harrowing sequence is based on the real attack of Paul Martin and Betty Jo Booker. Martin is found shot four times—once in the back of the neck, the shoulder, the right hand, and finally in the face. Trails of blood show that after being shot, he crawled across the road before succumbing to his injuries. Booker’s body is discovered miles away, shot twice and left behind a tree, her body posed in a haunting tableau.

The film also recreates the home invasion of Virgil and Katie Starks. Virgil is shot twice in the back of the head while reading in his armchair, blood seeping down his neck. Katie, upon discovering her husband’s body, is shot in the face through the window as she attempts to call for help. Despite being gravely wounded, she manages to escape the house as the Phantom tries to break in, leaving behind bloody handprints throughout the home—a scene that lingers for its sheer savagery and the desperate, chaotic flight for survival.

The first attack depicted in the film is equally disturbing. The Phantom confronts a couple parked in their car, ordering the man to remove his pants before pistol-whipping him so violently that his skull is fractured. The woman is then struck and ordered to run, only to be chased down and assaulted, a moment that underscores the killer’s sadism and the raw vulnerability of his victims.

The story behind The Town That Dreaded Sundown is itself the stuff of American folklore. In the spring of 1946, just as postwar optimism was blooming, a masked killer known as the Phantom began stalking the lovers’ lanes and quiet homes of Texarkana, attacking eight people and killing five. The real-life “Texarkana Moonlight Murders” cast a pall over the town, and the killer was never caught—a fact that lends the film its persistent sense of nihilism and unresolved fear. Pierce’s film, released in 1976, dramatizes these events with a blunt sensibility, an almost procedural tone, narrated by Vern Stierman in the style of a true-crime TV special. This omniscient narration, paired with Pierce’s lo-fi visuals and location shooting, gives the movie an authenticity that is rattling, as if you’re watching the nightmare unfold in your own backyard.

Pierce’s legacy as a filmmaker is tied to this distinctive approach. Before Sundown, he made his mark with The Legend of Boggy Creek 1972, a faux-documentary about a sasquatch-like creature in Arkansas, which became a surprise box office cult hit.

Both films share a fascination with local legend and collective memory, and both use nonprofessional actors and real locations to ground their stories in a sense of place. In Sundown, aside from a handful of familiar faces like Ben Johnson (as the determined Texas Ranger Morales) and Andrew Prine, who plays Deputy Ramsey, who is earnest and dogged in hunting down the hooded boogeyman.

A Trailer a Day Keeps the Boogeyman Away : Goodbye Andrew Prine Oct 31, 2022

Andrew Prine is one of those versatile American actors who is the opposite of the everyman. I’ve always been drawn to his unique, elegantly languid, unhurried, urbane tone and his lanky and high-cheekboned, tousled hair good looks. His career spanned stage, film, and television, with a particular knack for memorable roles in horror and cult cinema. For instance, in the 1971 psychedelic horror film Simon, King of the Witches 1971, Prine starred as Simon Sinestrari, a cynical and charismatic ceremonial magician living on society’s fringes, dabbling in occult rituals and seeking godhood through magic—a performance praised for its offbeat charm and countercultural energy.

Andrew Prine had been married to his co-star Brenda Scott, who played his love interest Linda in Simon, King of the Witches (1971). In fact, Prine and Scott were already married at the time of filming, and their real-life relationship added an extra layer of chemistry to their on-screen pairing. Their marriage was notable for its on-again, off-again nature; they married and divorced multiple times, ultimately being married during the period when Simon, King of the Witches, was made and released.

Prine also made a notable appearance in the horror TV landscape with the cult series Kolchak: The Night Stalker, playing the snobbish intellectual Professor Evan Spate in the episode “Demon in Lace,” where his skeptical academic character becomes entangled in a supernatural murder mystery involving an ancient Mesopotamian curse and a shapeshifting succubus. Throughout his career, Prine brought depth and presence to a wide range of genre roles, including appearances in The Evil (1978), Amityville II: The Possession (1982), and other horror favorites, making him a familiar and welcome face for fans of the macabre.

The film also features Dawn Wells (as a victim), forever remembered as Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island, delivers a performance of genuine terror and vulnerability as she flees into the night after being attacked by The Phantom. Ben Johnson brings a stoic presence, while And the rest of the cast is filled out by locals and unknowns, lending the film a rough-edged realism. Pierce even inserts himself into the film as a bumbling comic relief character, a tonal misstep for some, but one that underscores the film’s oddball regional charm.

The Phantom killer’s trademark mask in The Town That Dreaded Sundown is a simple yet haunting creation: a rough burlap sack pulled over his head, its coarse weave obscuring all facial features except for two crude, diamond-shaped eyeholes. These slits are just wide enough to reveal unsettling glimpses of his eyes, adding a chilling, inhuman quality to his presence. The mask’s handmade, plain, homemade look—lumpy, ill-fitting, and devoid of any decoration—makes it all the more unnerving, as if the killer could be anyone, hiding in plain sight. The stark anonymity of the burlap mask transforms the Phantom into a faceless embodiment of fear, his gaze peering out from the darkness with a cold, menacing resolve that lingers long after he disappears into the night.

What sets The Town That Dreaded Sundown apart from the slasher films it prefigured—John Carpenter’s Halloween was still two years away—is its docu-drama structure. The film shifts from scenes of terror to procedural investigation, as Morales and Ramsey canvas the town, interview witnesses, and follow leads. This police procedural element, combined with the omnipresent narration, makes the horror feel inescapable and communal, as if the whole town is holding its breath, waiting for the next attack.

Pierce’s work, sometimes dismissed in his own time as regional schlock, has grown in stature with each passing year. His films are now recognized for their understated visual sophistication, their reverence for American myth, and their innovative blending of documentary and fiction. The Town That Dreaded Sundown stands as a testament to his singular vision—a film that doesn’t just recount a legend, but immerses you in the fear, uncertainty, and strange fascination that legends are made of. It’s a haunting reminder that sometimes the scariest stories are the ones that just happen to be true.

As for the real-life case that inspired The Town That Dreaded Sundown —the Texarkana Moonlight Murders—the Phantom Killer was never officially caught. The attacks occurred in 1946 and resulted in five deaths and three injuries, causing widespread panic in Texarkana. Law enforcement pursued numerous leads and had several suspects, the most prominent being Youell Swinney, a career criminal. Although some investigators believed Swinney was responsible, there was never enough evidence to charge him with the murders, and he was only convicted of unrelated crimes. The case remains unsolved to this day, and the Phantom Killer’s identity is still a mystery.

#56 down, 94 to go! Your EverLovin’ Joey formally & affectionately known as MonsterGirl!

A Trailer a Day Keeps the Boogeyman Away! Halloween A-Z

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Supernatural 1933

Supernatural (1933) is directed by Victor Halperin and stars Carole Lombard as Roma Courtney, a young woman who finds herself entangled in a web of eerie supernatural events. After a strange encounter with a fortune-teller Madame Gourjan (Beryl Mercer), Roma’s life takes a dark turn. She becomes connected to the mysterious and malevolent spirit of Ruth Rogan (Vivienne Osborne), a black widow murderess who returns to life in Roma’s body, her evil spirit wants to exact revenge on her former lover, a phony spiritualist Grant Wilson (Randolph Scott) who betrayed her.

As Roma investigates the circumstances surrounding Ruth’s death, she becomes increasingly convinced of the supernatural forces at play. The film weaves a tale of suspense and eerie occurrences as Roma races against time to uncover the truth behind the threat that is haunting her.

The Slime People 1963

The Slime People is a 1963 science fiction/horror film directed by actor Robert Hutton. The movie is set in Los Angeles, where a thick, mysterious fog suddenly engulfs the city. As the fog dissipates, it reveals a group of grotesque creatures known as the Slime People who have emerged from the underground. These slimy and subterranean beings begin to terrorize the city’s residents.

The film primarily follows the efforts of a small group of survivors who band together to combat the Slime People and find a way to escape the city. Along the way, they must navigate the treacherous streets of Los Angeles, evade the Slime People’s attacks, and uncover the mystery behind the creatures’ origins. It also stars sci-fi regular Les Tremayne. The Slime People was photographed by William G. Troiano who did the cinematography for the exploitation film Scream of the Butterfly 1965, The Devil’s Messenger 1962, and Horror of the Blood Monsters 1970. Tom Hollan is the guy in the slime suit.

Scars of Dracula 1970

Scars of Dracula is a 1970 Hammer horror directed by Roy Ward Baker. In this installment of the Dracula series, the infamous vampire Christopher Lee’s Count Dracula returns to terrorize a small Eastern European village.

Paul (Christopher Matthews) seeks refuge in the village after escaping from Dracula’s castle. However, as Dracula sets his sights on Paul’s girlfriend Sarah (Jenny Hanley), the villagers become increasingly desperate to rid themselves of the vampire’s curse. The battle between good and evil intensifies as the villagers and a fearless priest attempt to confront the immortal Dracula and put an end to his malevolent reign. Scars of Dracula stars Dennis Waterman, Michael Gwynn as the priest, and beloved Michael Ripper as the Landlord.

Simon King of the Witches 1971

Simon, King of the Witches is a 1971 cult film directed by prolific television scriptwriter Bruce Kessler (Chopper ep. Kolchak). The film follows the surreal journey of the enigmatic Simon Sinestrari, a modern-day, self-proclaimed witch and occultist who lives in the counterculture of Los Angeles. Simon, portrayed by Andrew Prine, uses his mystical knowledge and psychedelic experiences to navigate the tumultuous world of the 1970s. Simon is deeply involved in mysticism and practices witchcraft.

Simon’s quest for enlightenment and his desire to harness supernatural powers lead him to experiment with various rituals and mind-altering substances. Along the way, he encounters a colorful cast of characters, including a fellow witch named Linda (real-life love Brenda Scott), and a police officer who becomes obsessed with him.

As Simon delves deeper into the occult and his own psyche, the film blurs the lines between reality and hallucination, taking viewers on a bizarre and psychedelic journey into the world of magic, mysticism, and countercultural rebellion.

Simon is a complex character who combines elements of mysticism, rebellion, and a sense of being an outsider in society.

Andrew Prine captures Simon’s eccentric nature with a charismatic and unconventional performance as a nonconformist who rejects societal norms, and Prine embodies this by delivering his lines with a mix of intensity and whimsy. His portrayal of Simon’s oddball behavior, such as his penchant for wearing outlandish clothing and embracing a bohemian lifestyle is superb.

Read my tribute to Andrew Prine HERE:

Sugar Hill 1974

Sugar Hill 1974 is an American International film, a unique and potent blend of blaxploitation and horror directed by Paul Maslansky. It’s known for its stylish and gritty portrayal of 1970s New Orleans. The story is centered by Diana “Sugar” Hill, portrayed by Marki Bey whose performance is marked by her charisma, confidence, and undeniable screen presence. a nightclub owner in the vibrant city of New Orleans. When Sugar’s boyfriend, Langston (Larry Don Johnson), is brutally murdered by a group of gangsters led by the ruthless Morgan played by Robert Quarry, she becomes determined to seek revenge. Bey effortlessly manifests Sugar’s journey from a nightclub owner into a vengeful force of supernatural retribution. The Black culture magazine Jet asked the question of why Black horror films drew their inspiration from the Christian vision of the Dracula mythos, ”when there was Voodoo in the Black experience.” Sugar Hill, attempts to rescue the legitimacy of Voodoo. ‘‘If most Blaxploitation celebrated a ‘bad N…’ who challenges the oppressive White system and wins, then Sugar Hill celebrated the ”Baad Bitch who did the same.” (Robin R. Means Coleman)

Mama Maitresses ‘‘How strong is your hate?'’

Sugar Hill ‘‘As strong as my love was, my hate is stronger.”

However, Sugar doesn’t turn to conventional methods of retribution, she uses supernatural forces to combat her adversaries. Instead, she seeks out the assistance of Mama Maitresse (the wonderful Zara Cully), a voodoo priestess, to help her get vengeance through supernatural means. With the guidance of Mama Maitresse and the power of voodoo, Sugar raises an army of undead, zombie-like enforcers to take down Morgan and his criminal empire one by one.

Sugar Hill [after feeding a man to a sounder of starving pigs in a pig pen] I hope they’re into white trash.

 

Sugar Hill ”Hey, Whitey! You and your punk friends killed my man.'

Tank Watson ‘‘You know, you got one of the prettiest asses in town. I’d sure hate to see it kicked in for accusin’ people.'

Sugar Hill ‘‘I’m not accusin’ you, Honk. I’m passin' sentence”

Marki Bey’s performance as Diana “Sugar” Hill in “Sugar Hill” is a standout in the blaxploitation genre. She brings a captivating mix of strength, determination, and vulnerability to her character. As Sugar, Bey portrays a woman who transforms from a grieving girlfriend into a fearless avenger, seeking justice for her murdered lover. Sugar Hill also co-stars Don Pedro Colley as Baron Samedi, Richard Lawson as Valentine, and Charles Robison as Fabulous.

The zombies in this film more closely resemble the creatures of voodoo legend – i.e., the walking dead who do the bidding – than the flesh-eating “living dead” popularized by Romero. According to the film, the zombies are the preserved bodies of slaves brought to the United States from Guinea, Africa.

“Much like the White Final Girl, Black women stare down death. However, these Black women are not going up against some boogeyman; rather, often their battle is with racism and corruption. In this regard, there is no going to sleep once the ”monster” is defeated, as the monster is often an amorphously coded as ‘Whitey”, and Whitely’s oppressions are here to stay. From Horror Noire Blacks in American Horror FIlms from the 1890s to Present by Robin R. Means Coleman

 

Strange Behavior 1981

Strange Behavior 1981  is a disturbing and uneasy atmosphere that fills this science fiction/horror film directed by Michael Laughlin (Strange Invaders 1983, produced The Whisperers 1967 and Two-Lane Blacktop 1972). Set in a small American town, the film follows a series of gruesome murders that seem to be connected to a mysterious research project. The film explores the exploration of mind control, innocence lost, the terrifying realization that they may be capable of committing heinous acts against which they have no free will, paranoia and the juxtaposition of innocence all played out with graphic violence.

The story centers around a teenager named Pete Brady ( Dan Shor), who becomes entangled in the investigation when his friends are brutally murdered. As Pete delves deeper into the case, he discovers that the murders are linked to a behavioral experimentation program led by the enigmatic Dr. Le Sange (Arthur Dignam).

What makes the killings even more chilling is that the perpetrators are seemingly ordinary townsfolk who have been turned into mind-controlled killers on a homicidal rampage.

The film is known for its eerie and atmospheric cinematography, as well as its unique take on the horror genre. It explores themes of psychological manipulation, the consequences of unethical scientific experiments, and the dark side of human behavior.

With its combination of a small-town setting, a mysterious conspiracy, and a rising body count, Strange Behavior is a cult classic that offers a distinctive and unsettling take on the horror genre of the early 1980s. The murders are gruesome, one scene in particular still makes me queasy, not so much for its gore but for the naked realism that it conveys with its cold and mindlessness, and I don’t mean unapologetic, I mean somnambulistic viciousness. The brutal, violent acts of controlled killing, like homicidal puppets, still have a quite shocking effect. This intelligent visual construction of gore and violence diverges from the work of the father of the splatter genre -Hershell Gordon Lewis.

Strange Behavior is set in a small, seemingly peaceful town, which enhances the sense of isolation and vulnerability. The idea that such disturbing events can occur in an otherwise idyllic setting creates a feeling of unease and an atmosphere of mystery and paranoia as characters try to unravel the enigmatic events taking place in their community. The sense of not knowing who can be trusted and who may have succumbed to mind control adds to the film’s tension. The film stars Louise Fletcher, Michael Murphy as Pete’s dad John Brady, and Fiona Lewis as Gwen Parkinson Le Sang’s assistant.

This is your EverLovin’ Joey Sayin’ S’eeee Ya at the snack bark to grab me a tray of the letter T for terror with some cheese on top!

A Trailer a Day Keeps the Boogeyman Away : Goodbye Andrew Prine Oct 31, 2022

LOOK HOMEWARD ANGEL-GOODBYE ANDREW PRINE

It’s sort of poetic that Andrew Prine left us on Halloween… Though the lanky actor is beloved for his supporting roles in classic Westerns (winning the Golden Boot Award in 2001) both in film and television, I’ll always have a strong affection for his contribution to the B-horror, sci-fi and exploitation genres. I think he had it in his DNA to bring his cocky, seraphic sex appeal to the scary screen. (The Invaders 1967,V mini series 1983 and V: The Final Battle 1984, Star Trek: The Next Generation 1993, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine 1995, Weird Science series 1994-98) Later on in his career,  he wouldn’t turn his back on a genre that embraced him, looming grim as the nightmarish surgeon Dr. Hopkins who deals in body parts in the outre gruesome Sutures in 2009, also appearing as Reverend Jonathan Hawthorn in Rob Zombies -The Lords of Salem in 2012.

In the 60s Prine was cast in supporting roles in supernatural oriented television episodes of One Step Beyond 1960, Boris Karloff’s THRILLER ‘The Guilty Men 1960’, ALFRED HITCHCOCK PRESENTS ‘The Faith of Aaron Menefee’1962’.

You can catch him in the made for tv movie Night Slaves 1970, Kolchak: The Night Stalker ‘Demon in Lace’ 1975, The Evil 1978, and Amityville II: THE POSSESSION 1982.

Personal Quote[on the 70s exploitation films he starred in] “Then I did a couple of headrollers, and I did them for the money – they paid me a lot of money to do them. I was never a guy who was unhappy on a set. I enjoyed the game, the circus – and I enjoyed the girls. We always had a bunch of fun girls on those movies. The only one I regretted making – I didn’t regret The Centerfold Girls (1974) or The Evil 1978, which turned out to be pretty good. But I didn’t like Terror Circus (1973) [a.k.a “Barn of the Naked Dead”]. When I got into that I thought, “You’ve gone too far, my boy.” I couldn’t imagine my way out of it, though they paid me a lot of bucks. I thought, “Let’s not do this again.”

Here are some clips and trailers from a genre that was keen for his charisma!

SIMON, KING OF THE WITCHES 1971

CRYPT OF THE LIVING DEAD 1973

TERROR CIRCUS aka BARN OF THE NAKED DEAD 1973

THE CENTERFOLD GIRLS 1974

THE TOWN THAT DREADED SUNDOWN 1976

This is your EverLovin’ Joey sayin’ Andrew Prine gets the “Golden Popcorn Bucket Award” here at The Last Drive in

 

A Trailer a Day Keeps the Boogeyman Away! October Oddities –

The Evil 1978

A doctor buys a Civil War era dilapidated mansion, and hires a few friends to fix it up, but the mansion hides a deadly secret.

The Evil is a claustrophobic nightmare, that while it misses out on the brilliantly stylized The Legend of Hell House 1973 scripted by Richard Matheson, it’s a cluttered house of horrors that does have a level of trashiness, unpleasant  as a bad dream. It stars Joanna Pettet (Casino Royal 1967, The Group 1966, The Night of the Generals 1967, Night Gallery: The Girl with the Hungry Eyes 1972). And co-stars Richard Crenna, Andrew Prine, Cassie Yates, Lynne Moody, Milton Selzer and Victor Buono as The Devil.

Screams of a Winter Night 1979

An anthology in which a group of college coeds spending a winter’s night in a remote cabin pass time by telling scary stories to each other.

The Visitor 1979

The soul of a young girl with telekinetic powers becomes the prize in a fight between forces of God and the Devil. 

A surrealist oddity featuring Glenn Ford, Mel Ferrer, Lance Henriksen, John Huston, Sam Pekinpah and Shelley Winters.

Just before dawn 1979

Five young people venture into the backwoods of Oregon to claim a property, and find themselves being stalked by a hulking, machete-wielding psychopath.

This is your EverLovin Joey saying — it’s the month of the Boogeyman! better pay him his due and watch a few!

A Trailer a Day Keeps the Boogeyman Away! Boggy Creeks, Dreaded Sundowns and Mysterious Evictors!

A CHARLES B. PIERCE TRIPLE FEATURE

Indie filmmaker Charles B. Pierce based his stories from his home state of Arkansas, not only using locals as actors but his films cast some fantastic popular stars like Jessica Harper, Michael Parks, Andrew Prine, and Vic Morrow!

Charles B. Pierce’s film fascinate & titillate primarily because they are based on actual events! His films for years now, have an enormous cult following…

The Legend of Boggy Creek (1972)

Half-man, half-beast … a mysterious creature has been stalking the woods and waterways near Fouke, Arkansas since the 1940s

From IMBd Charles B. Pierce bio-In 1971 there were local headlines about a Sasquatch-like creature sighted in the vicinity around the nearby town of Fouke, in Miller County. The “Fouke Monster” was reportedly seen in the Boggy Creek area and was suspected of attacking dogs and livestock as well as a local family. In mid-’72, while still working in advertising, Pierce created a semi-documentary film originally titled “Tracking the Fouke Monster”–later renamed ‘The Legend of Boggy Creek’. Pierce shot the movie with a 16mm camera he assembled himself at home. Much of the movie was filmed in Fouke and Texarkana with local residents and students as actors and/or crew. Estimates place the cost of making the film at about $165,000. Becoming popular as a drive-in horror feature around the country, it became one of the top ten highest-grossing movies of the year, earning over $20 million.

THE EVICTORS (1979)

It was a small Louisiana town where people live and love and die and no one ever thought of locking their doors… except in the Monroe house.

The Evictors is a chilling and moody tale about newlyweds Ben and Ruth Watkins (Michael Parks and Jessica Harper) who rent an old farmhouse from Jake Rudd (Vic Morrow) in a small Shreveport Louisiana town. They are suddenly set upon by a mysterious assailant, and are looked at with mistrust by the rest of the town. Their farmhouse holds an old secret and an oath by the former owners that no one else would ever live on their property. They were slaughtered while fending off the police and the bank who came to foreclose on their land. Do the Watkins discover the truth about the brutal murders and the violent history surrounding their quaint little farmhouse too late?– and is that why they have become targeted for revenge…

The Town that Dreaded Sundown (1976)

Not Everyone Who Comes to This Lover’s Lane Has the Same Thing on Their Mind.

Stars Andrew Prine, Ben Johnson and Dawn Wells (Maryann Gilligan’s Island)

“This movie is a semi-documentary based on the real-life string of mysterious killings that terrorized the people of Texarkana, Texas, in 1946. The murder spree became known as the “Texarkana Moonlight Murders” and ultimately would claim five lives and injure many others. The only description of the killer ever obtained was that of a “hooded man”. To this day, no one has been convicted and these murders remain unsolved.”

“Texarkana today still looks pretty much the same. And if you should ask people on the street what they believe happened to the Phantom Killer, most would say that he is still living here… and is walking free.”

Your EverLovin’ MonsterGirl sayin’ the truth is out there!