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TIME: Almanac 1990
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1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso
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1990-09-22
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VIDEO, Page 88Invasion of the Wild ThingsTV is overrun with thrills, chills and delicious horrorsBy Richard Zoglin
Except for a few racy double entendres on The Golden Girls,
network TV on Saturday night is a pretty tame affair. Twist the
dial a few notches, however, and there's mayhem aplenty. One
evening a few weeks ago, a man was impaled on the handle of a hay
rake by a wolflike demon that had risen from hell at the behest of
a satanic cult. A couple visiting an art gallery wondered why the
sculptures of terrified people looked so unnervingly lifelike. (Any
guesses?) And Freddy Krueger, the razor-clawed maniac from the
Nightmare on Elm Street films, was back to his old tricks, scaring
the wits out of people in their sleep. His latest victim: a dream
expert who, convinced Freddy was after him, went berserk on a talk
show and was shot to death in front of a live TV audience. Eat your
heart out, Geraldo.
Slash TV? Not quite. But horror, fantasy and science fiction
have invaded the medium with a vengeance. The NBC series Quantum
Leap involves time travel, and Fox's new Alien Nation postulates
a Los Angeles of the future, where people from another planet are
trying to integrate into American society. Cable is going for
classy shocks in such series as Shelley Duvall's Nightmare Classics
on Showtime and HBO's Tales from the Crypt, adapted from the old
E.C. horror comics and directed by such notables as Walter Hill (48
HRS.) and Robert Zemeckis (Back to the Future).
Mostly, however, TV horror is flourishing in a batch of popular
syndicated programs, usually tucked away on independent stations.
Eight such series are on the market. Three of them -- Star Trek:
The Next Generation, Friday the 13th: The Series and War of the
Worlds -- were among the five top-rated weekly syndicated shows at
the end of last season. Oddly, they have attracted little notice
beyond their cult audiences, even from the clean-TV crusaders, who
would probably be appalled by the prolific (though rarely graphic)
violence. Which is just fine, since it allows the rest of us to
enjoy some B-movie pleasures: comic-book energy, throw-logic-to-
the-winds imagination Land, occasionally, a good scare.
Such attractions were rare on main stream TV in the past. Rod
Serling's Twilight Zone served up some chills, but it was less
interested in frightening the viewer than in offering moral
parables. Star Trek will forever be enshrined in TV's
science-fiction pantheon, but it wasn't nearly so scary as the
sight of the cast members growing old in the movies that have
followed. The 1960s anthology series The Outer Limits represented
the outer limit of TV's flirtation with the fantastic, while
Kolchak: The Night Stalker was the closest the medium ever got to
a good monster show.
One problem in doing such programs is the cost. Elaborate
special effects are too expensive for most TV series, and the
tackiness can show. Superboy, for example, is an engaging adventure
series based on the comic book, but the TV hero's cheesy
superantics come straight from Woolworth's. Low-rent special
effects have also turned War of the Worlds -- an update of the H.G.
Wells novel and 1953 movie -- into a dreary stalemate. Last season
the evil aliens seemed to do little but abduct unsuspecting
earthlings and transform them Invasion of the Body Snatchers-style
into blank-eyed automatons to do their bidding. A second wave of
aliens has arrived this season with a slightly different plan: to
abduct unsuspecting earthlings and make clones of them to do their
bidding. Just how that is an improvement remains to be seen.
Snazzy makeup and special effects, however, are the stars of
Monsters, a lively half-hour anthology, which each week delivers
just what is advertised: a grotesque and usually malevolent
creature, concocted under the supervision of makeup wizard Dick
Smith (The Exorcist). Last season's menagerie ranged from an
8-ft.-tall bloodworm with carnivorous tastes to a woman who turned
into a gigantic honey-bee and flew off with her reluctant lover.
Even when Monsters' stories are predictable and thin, the show
is enlivened by grisly good humor. In one episode, two burglar
brothers kill an old lady (Imogene Coca) while ransacking her home,
but not before she bites one on the hand. The swollen wound soon
takes the shape of the dead woman's face, which won't shut up.
"It's like in one of them Wolfman movies," cries the cursed fellow.
Replies his dim-witted brother: "What, an old lady bites you, and
you turn into another old lady?" This weekend Soupy Sales plays
a traveling salesman who, after wrecking his car, spends a night
with a farm couple who have a beautiful daughter living in the
attic. Only one problem: when he touches the girl, her skin starts
to dissolve, revealing a rotting corpse out for revenge against all
the men who have wronged her. Some farmer's-daughter joke.
Tongue-in-cheek humor also lifts Freddy's Nightmares above the
jolt-'em-out-of-their-seats level of its theatrical namesakes.
Freddy (Robert Englund) can still be one ruthless customer: in the
season opener, he sliced off a woman's head, which plopped to the
floor like a ripe pineapple. Most weeks, however, he serves merely
as the wisecracking narrator for unrelated stories revolving around
dreams. Many are unexpectedly lighthearted; a few even approach
satire. In one of last season's entries, a yuppie career woman had
a thirtysomething nightmare about having a baby: her boss replaced
her on the fast track, prison bars materialized outside her door,
and she was sent to Post-Partum Sleep Deprivation Camp for
Unprepared Mothers.
Friday the 13th bears even less resemblance to the infamous,
inexhaustible series of slasher films for which it is named. The
TV version is another anthology show, its stories linked by an
antique shop whose objects were cursed and sold to unsuspecting
customers. Each week three continuing characters try to retrieve
one of the objects before it wreaks its supernatural havoc. That
serviceable premise provides the excuse for segments that range
from old horror chestnuts (the ventriloquist controlled by his
dummy) to spooky original tales (two abused children lure playmates
into an evil playhouse).
Friday the 13th's worst sin is an obsession with clunky,
overexplanatory dialogue laying out the supernatural ground rules
("Demons can only rise or return on a full moon -- that's why the
spectral energy is gathering . . ."). But the show delivers a
stronger dose of pure horror than anything else on TV. In the
season's two-hour premiere episode, Lucifer tried to take over a
convent in France. Before the overstuffed plot spun out of control,
there were some startling set pieces: a possessed nun literally
climbing the walls and patients in a mental ward going wild and
murdering the staff. The show also managed to write one of its
regular characters out of the series in possibly the screwiest
manner in TV history. After being possessed by the devil, the
fellow was transformed into a little boy and returned to his
mother. A bit inconvenient for the family, perhaps, but in TV's
world of horror, there are worse ways to go.