To end our second week of made for TV movies, Bill Van Ryn from Drive-In Asylum and Groovy Doom is back!

Dan Curtis was responsible for delivering a number of memorable genre productions. Cult TV series “Dark Shadows” is definitely his most successful and enduring endeavor, but he got a couple of other major lobbies into his lengthy career as well. Including being a producer of the original TV film The Night Stalker, he directed the sequel himself, The Night Strangler. Although he wasn’t involved the weekly series that followed, titled “Kolchak: The Night Stalker”, it’s interesting that the rest of the output Curtis was involved in took a similar direction. While “Kolchak” came up with a series of diverse supernatural monsters and threats for its hero to encounter every week, Curtis also gave us a bizarre menagerie of villains and creatures that his characters faced. Perhaps feeling he had exhausted the typical canon of vampires (“Dark Shadows”, House of Dark Shadows, and the TV production of “Dracula” starring Jack Palance) and werewolves (Scream of the Wolf), Curtis relied more and more on invented myths and legends, such as the killer hunting fetish doll that terrorizes Karen Black in TV anthology film Trilogy of Terror.

Curtis didn’t get around to today’s subject at hand, Curse of the Black Widow, until 1977, and even for Dan Curtis, it’s way out there. Just like his other films and programs, Curtis approaches the far-fetched material with great seriousness and realism that could be construed as camp, although this writer would never say that’s a bad thing. The creature that the creators have summoned in this film is a woman who can shape shift into the form of a giant spider. The structure of the movie presents this as a mystery, going through the motions and hoping you don’t notice that Patty Duke is playing a dual role. Duke plays Laura Lockwood, one of two twin sisters who were born when their father crashed his private plane in the desert. They and their mother survived for two days in the wilderness until they were rescued by a Native American. One of the babies had been bitten repeatedly by spiders, which apparently caused her to turn into a giant spider whenever there’s a full moon.

The script has a little fun making it seem as if the spider baby is going to turn out to be Laura’s sister, Leigh (Donna Mills), who also happens to be a romantic interest to the male lead, a private investigator played by Anthony Franciosa. Franciosa gets help with his investigation from a young hopeful he calls “Flaps”, played by Roz Kelly, who apparently could not play any role without her exaggerated New York accent. Franciosa tracks down the guy who discovered the plane crash when Leigh and Laura were babies, now living as a caretaker in one of the family’s abandoned vineyard properties, and there’s some suggestion of Native American mysticism that explains the spider transformation. I did a little research myself, and although there is indeed a spider woman myth, she’s a godlike creature and not a murderous monster that transforms during the full moon.

I don’t feel bad spoiling the fact that Laura is our trans-species mutation, because the film doesn’t do that great of a job disguising it. The script can’t really decide if Laura does or does not know she’s a spider lady; she has mental flashes that reveal snippets of the deaths of her unfortunate victims, but she also seems genuinely bewildered by them, and also of the existence of “Valerie”, an alter-ego she creates by putting on makeup and a wig and speaking with an accent. “Valerie” serves the purpose of frequenting bars and picking up men to serve are victims. The script suggests that she does this as a form of vengeance against men in general, having been victimized by a male rapist in her past. One of the best scenes occurs at the climax, where Donna Mills comes face to face with “Valerie” and somehow does not immediately recognize her as her sister wearing a wig. It seems one of Laura’s transformations had been witnessed by their mother, played by June Lockhart from “Lost In Space”. Lockhart went insane, and for some reason Laura decided to fake the woman’s death and keep her confined to an attic apartment in the family mansion. Leigh is stunned to discover their mother still alive, although once “Valerie” turns into a giant spider again, their mother isn’t alive for much longer.

The weird climax of the film is when we get most of the spider action on camera, and it’s none too convincing. Most shots reveal it to be a motionless prop dangling from wires, although some clever editing almost makes it passable. There’s a lot of creepy atmosphere in this sequence though, which includes Franciosa discovering the spider’s lair with tons of cobwebs and the skeletons of its victims hanging in cocoons.

Curse of the Black Widow plays like an episode of “Kolchak: The Night Stalker” with a different actor as Kolchak. The last film I commented on here was another TV movie, Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark, which was filmed partially at the Piru Mansion in California. Curse of the Black Widow also uses the same house one of the main locations, proving that once a mansion has been cursed with such things as demonic imps, cannibalism (Folks At Red Wolf Inn/Terror House), sexual slavery (Pets), or Robert Wagner (“Hart to Hart”), nothing will ever change that.

Want to hear what Bill, Sam and Becca had to say about Folks at Red Wolf Inn? Listen here: part one and part two

Steven Spielberg directed this Robert Clouse (the director of Enter the Dragon) written TV movie that originally aired on January 21, 1972. In fact, Spielberg even appears briefly in the film speaking to Carl Gottlieb (who would go on to co-write Jaws) at a party.

Marjorie (Sandy Dennis, God Told Me To) and Paul Worden (Darren McGavin, Carl Kolchak forever) have just moved to a Pennsylvania farmhouse with their children, Stevie (Johnny Whitaker, Jody from Family Affair) and Laurie. There are symbols all over the house, which no one seems to have any issues with.

Is there weirdness at the farm? You know there is. Their neighbor, Gehrmann, (Jeff Corey, Battle Beyond the Stars) kills chickens right in front of the kids. Marjorie keeps hearing the sound of crying children. Then there’s Harry (Ralph Bellamy, Coming to America, Pretty Woman), a local who believes in demons and says that the house is protected from them because of all the symbols.

Marjorie is convinced that the devil wants her and even slaps her son, which leads to her leaving the family, as she can’t even trust herself. But what if the devil was after her kids and not her? Hmm?

Spielberg would escape TV movies after this. It’s a low budget affair, but his style as a director transforms the material. It’s unsettling, filled with doom and gloom and dread. The 70’s really seem like a dismal time to be alive if we only go by TV movies, huh?

The ABC Movie of the Week for November 24, 1973, Scream, Pretty Peggy was directed by Gordon Hessler, who was behind films as diverse as The Oblong Box, Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park and Sho Kosugi’s introduction to the U.S., Pray For Death. It was written by Jimmy Sangster (who directed Hammer’s Lust for a Vampire and wrote The Curse of Frankenstein, Whoever Slew Auntie Roo? and many more), so this film has a much better pedigree than you’d expect.

The central character of the film is Peggy, a college student who aspires to become an artist. She applies for a job at the home of noted sculptor Jeffrey Elliott (played by Ted Bessell, TV’s That Girl) and his mother, the iconic Bette Davis. Peggy’s annoyingly chipper character adds a unique dimension to the story.

Let me give you some advice, in case you are a young girl looking for a housekeeping job and find yourself in a 1970s TV movie. If the house you’re working in has an Old Hollywood actress in it, run (refer back to my past rules of always avoiding Old Hollywood actors and actresses). And if you find out that there’s a room that you aren’t allowed to go into, don’t try to go into that room. Just get away as fast as you can.

However, Peggy’s curiosity gets the better of her. She stumbles upon Jeffrey’s collection of eerie demon sculptures, each more terrifying than the last. She also encounters George Thornton, whose daughter used to work in the house. This leads to a confrontation with the formidable Mrs. Bette Davis, a situation one should never find themselves in.

It turns out that Jessica, Jeffrey’s sister, is living in the room above the garage that Peggy isn’t allowed into. Again, get out. Now.

No, Peggy decides she wants to make a new friend. And what if that friend is really Jeffrey, who killed his sister and has split his personality with her inside his head?  Oh, Peggy. You brought this on yourself.

Scream, Pretty Peggy is a fine slice of 70s TV movie thrills. Any time you have Ms. Davis deigning to be in a TV movie, you will get something good. But seriously, I wish these girls would wise up. There are better things to do in this world than live in a house of maniacs!

Based on the novel by Herbert Lieberman, Crawlspace is what happens when Albert (Arthur Kennedy, The Sentinel, The Living Dead at Manchester Morgue) and Alice (Teresa Wright, Best Supporting Actress for the film Mrs. Miniver, as well as The Little Foxes and The Pride of the Yankees) Graves take in Richard Atlee as their adopted son.

Well, let’s hold on a second. The Graves have moved to a small town to help Albert recuperate from his heart attack. And when their furnace goes, the repair company sends Richard to fix it. They invite him over for dinner and the furnace goes bad a few days later. When the new repairman shows up, he tells them that Richard disappeared.

Strange sounds come from the crawlspace. Turns out Richard has been living there. And even when the Graves adopt him and try to care for him, he refuses to sleep anywhere but the crawlspace.

Even after Sherriff Birge warns the couple about the boy, they keep him in their home. But then, Richard starts acting out. His violent outbursts toward the Graves and the entire town (particularly a general store) increase in intensity and menace.

Directed by John Newland and Buzz Kulik (who also did Bad Ronald), this February 11, 1972 TV movie is slow, haunted and pretty effective. You can see why the couple wanted Richard in their lives, as he becomes the only topic of their conversations. And as he begins to fix things around the house, he becomes oddly necessary.

“What the hell are we doing with a boy in the hole in our cellar?” You’ll wonder this same question! This is a real actor movie, with Arthur Kennedy really shining here, his anger toward what he perceives as Richard’s rudeness balanced by Teresa Wright’s need for someone to care for. The scene where she asks if she should add Richard’s name to Christmas cards is heartbreaking.

The police finally give up on trying to convince Albert and Alice to give up Richard and refuse their calls when a gang of boys he’s feuding with attack their house. Despite pleas for Richard to leave, despite offering him money, despite all attempt at sanity, Richard will not leave.

An attack from the gang of boys leads to Richard killing one of the men and Albert covers for Richard one last time. Alice loses her civility and screams that she wants Richard to leave. He attacks her, leading to Richard shooting him and dying for a stress-related heart attack. Only Alice is left behind in the crawlspace.

Crawlspace is filled with sadness. A couple that could never find a child. A man who can never find his place in the world. And even in the brief moments of happiness they find together, there is always the chance that it could fall apart at any moment. You can see the ending before the characters do, but that doesn’t lessen its impact.

Let’s not judge Burt Kennedy for directing the Hulk Hogan vehicle Suburban Commando. Let’s remember him for something much better — All the Kind Strangers.

Written by Clyde Ware — a writer/director/producer who worked on shows like Airwolf and Gunsmoke, as well as TV movies like The Hatfields and the McCoys and The Story of Pretty Boy Floyd — this film reeks of backwoods menace. No wonder — Ware was born in West Virginia and his second novel, The Eden Tree, was a semi-biographical read which scandalized his hometown.

Jimmy Wheeler (Stacy Keach, Butterfly, Mountain of the Cannibal God) is a photojournalist traveling through via car to Los Angeles. He runs through a small Southern town where he sees Gilbert, an adorable child, walking on the side of the road. Seeing that the kid is hefting some heavy groceries, Jimmy offers him a ride. As the road goes further and further into the woods, the rain increases. Soon, he realizes he’s trapped in a house of seven children.

The oldest, Peter (John Savage, Hair, The Deer Hunter) has hidden the fate of his mother and father from the town, using various resources to keep their power on and training vicious dogs to protect the children. Their father was a bootlegger and mother a schoolteacher (what a match!); when she died, he drank until he fell from the roof.

The rest of the children — John (Robby Benson, who sings two songs on the soundtrack), Martha, Rita, James and Baby (named because their mother died before they could name him) — need guidance, so Peter sends the younger ones out to lure people to their home. Then, they evaluate whether or not they’ll be good parents. If they’re fit, they stay. If not, they’re free to go. Or that’s what the kids think. Evidence points to another more grisly fate.

There’s a new mother already in the house. Carol Ann (Samantha Eggar, The Brood, Demonoid Messanger of Death, Curtains) has been taking care of the children for some time. She has seen plenty of other father figures and while she asks for help, she also knows that everything seems pointless.

Jimmy has to convince the kids that he’d make a good dad while trying to find a way to escape. But between the multitude of kids and dogs, as well as his car being sunk in the swamp, he starts losing hope as well.

I have two issues with this film. Things get wrapped up with way too neat of a bow. Jimmy gives a speech to the kids which saves his life and Peter asks him to walk him into town so that they can get some help. Jimmy doesn’t even talk about the police and when you know that these kids have murdered numerous “kind strangers” you have to wonder if he traded his freedom in for some complicity in the crimes. Second, for being a photojournalist, the only camera that Jimmy has is a Polaroid, which would not be good enough to be printable in the 70’s. I know that it makes good theater to have him show Gilbert the photo as it develops, but it’s a stretch.

All the Kind Strangers is a small screen Deliverance, yet it has some fine acting from Keach and Eggar. It’s restrained, but there is more not seen than seen that makes this movie slightly scary.

Feed Shark

Laura Wilson (Patty Duke, Valley of the Dolls, The Swarm) and Mark (David McCallum, Illya Kuryakin on The Man from U.N.C.L.E. and better known to today’s TV audience as Dr. Donald Mallard on N.C.I.S.) haven’t been married long. On their first trip to meet his mother (Dorothy McGuire, The Greatest Story Ever Told), she learns that maybe this marriage wasn’t the best of ideas. Mom has been ready to go nutzoid ever since Mark’s first wife, Elaine, died, and she’s convinced that her ghost is inside her home.

Everywhere Laura goes, she starts hearing Elaine’s favorite song and even her voice. Is she trying to possess her? Or is she just being ridiculous, as the family doctor suggests? The movie never fully embraces the supernatural. It’s more about Mark shutting himself off and not dealing with the past.

The family maid thinks that Mark’s mother is getting worse and worse, with Laura in danger of the very same insanity. And what’s the deal with Mark’s friend David (James T. Callahan, the dad from Charles in Charge)? And can you talk a ghost out of possessing someone just by talking to them?

Director Delbert Mann (Marty) weaves a competent story, penned by Art Wallace, the main writer for TV’s Dark Shadows. It’s a tale that fits snugly into the 1970s, a time when possession, Satan, and the ghosts of murdered wives lurked around every corner. The film’s slow pace is a deliberate nod to the conventions of TV movie horror, inviting you to revel in the nostalgia of a bygone era.

For the first installment of our return to the wonder of TV movies, Bill Van Ryn from Drive-In Asylum and Groovy Doom returns to tell us about one of his favorite movies.

Considering the reputation of 1973’s Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark as a TV movie that forever scarred some impressionably young viewers, it’s surprising that the movie got dismissive reviews when it was current. The LA Times reviewer said the film was unintentionally funny and pointless, and a paper from Massachusetts claimed actress Kim Darby was “miscast” in the lead role of a housewife who finds herself confronted with tiny, demonic homunculi inside the spooky house she and her husband have just inherited.

Darby plays Sally Farnham, whose task of redecorating the old mansion turns dire when she unwisely removes a bolted barrier covering the ash pit of a bricked-up fireplace. Ignoring the warnings of the elderly handyman of the house (played by William Demarest), Sally soon discovers she has unleashed three tiny, misshapen monsters who lurk in the shadows of the old house. The goblins are driven off by light, so many of the film’s horror episodes involve the creatures tampering with the lights and hunting Sally when it’s dark, with the intention to either kill her or make her one of them–or maybe those two things are the same.  

The strange, whispering imps were enough to give many viewers nightmares, especially those of the young and impressionable type. The film avoids any back story on the creatures, other than to suggest that at least one of them is a family member of Sally’s who was transformed, which could mean that each of the monsters was once a human being. It’s this sense of uncertainty that, hopefully, inspires the viewer to imagine their own explanation of the weird things we see happening. The director, John Newland, creates the illusion of miniature demons by filming diminutive actors in monster costumes on oversized sets. Some of the shots are convincing, others are not, but the film relies just as much on atmospheric touches to communicate a sense of dread. The creepy house used in the film is none other than the Piru Mansion in Piru, California, and it’s appeared in numerous films and TV shows, including Curse of the Black Widow, The Folks At Red Wolf Inn, Pets and Tarantulas: The Deadly Cargo.

It was still common in the 1970s for a scary movie to be slowly paced and easy on the horror, and yet it could still be effective if the filmmakers were focused on suspense and atmosphere. Since it was a made-for-tv movie, Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark is forced to be restrained in the way it depicts onscreen death and peril. There’s only a single death in the movie, when one of the characters falls down the stairs. It’s worth noting that it isn’t death that the heroine of the film has to fear, since the implication is that the homunculi are former residents of the house who are damned to forever inhabit the strange void that seems to be accessed by the ash pit behind that fireplace. What they really want is to make her one of them, alive forever, and presumably trapped in the house.

The plot is made much more suspenseful because of the inability of the characters to communicate effectively. What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? would have been over right away if Blanche had simply gone to her window and started screaming “HELP, MY SISTER IS TRYING TO KILL ME!”, and there are several moments where Don’t Be Afraid Of The Dark would have over if Demarest’s character would have stopped speaking in riddles. Additionally, Sally’s husband (played by Jim Hutton) shows an unbelievable disregard for everything his wife says, despite the fact that she seems to be a sentient adult to whom he is married. Even at the film’s conclusion, when Hutton finally becomes a believer and rushes off to question Demarest one final time about what threat could be lurking in their house, he still chooses to leave Sally alone *in the house*, instead of taking her away and ending the entire ordeal.

Let’s not quibble over logic, though—it’s a horror movie we’re talking about. Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark has a grim conclusion, something that was becoming more common as the 1970s progressed, and the downbeat ending delivers the goods without offering any kind of explanation about everything that came before it. Of course, this fear of the unknown seems lost on modern audiences, and the 2010 remake of Don’t Be Afraid Of The Dark offered us detailed information about the creatures–something that was utterly pointless, because it brought nothing new to the story arc itself, and the details just became diversions to pad out the run time.  The remake also overexposed the creatures and rendered them powerless in doing so, and if the miniatures in the 1973 original are unconvincing, at least this seems to have inspired the director to show them as little as possible, giving them a greater sense of mystery.