Day: October 30, 2019

As in moving pictures, also known as films.

Rey had done a great job of posting the gals’ favorite fright-night films on Saturday.  And, seeing as I’d promised to provide mine, here  you go . . . my preferred spine-tingling pics.

As a child:  The Haunting (the 1963 version, directed by Robert Wise and starting Julie Harris, Claire Bloom, and Richard Johnson).

While it seems so tame now, when I was six, the B&W film possessed the perfect amount of disquieting suspense and eerie occurrences to prompt more than a few goosebumps.  The basic premise: a paranormal investigator invites people to supposedly haunted Hill House.  The female lead, Eleanor, becomes thoroughly (distressingly) obsessed with the old house.  Can you spell s-i-n-i-s-t-e-r? 

As a teen:  The Ghost and Mr. Chicken (directed by Alan Rafkin, starring Don Knotts and Joan Staley).  Okay, not a true horror film, but fun with nutty antics transpiring in a reputedly haunted house.

It was/is an entertaining watch, no matter what time of year.  Simple and silly.  “Luther” (lovable Don Knotts) works as a typesetter in a small town.  An aspiration to become a reporter prompts him to agree to spend a night in the town’s creepy mansion, where a murder-suicide had once taken place.  Does anyone believe him when he claims to have witnessed weird happenings, like the organ playing on its own?

As an adult:  The Woman in Black (directed by James Watkins, staring Daniel Radcliffe, Janet McTeer, and Ciarán Hinds).

A recently widowed man travels to a remote village where he soon believes the villagers are hiding some deep, dark secret.  Soon, he encounters a female ghost who is scaring local residents—and him.  The setting is perfect: distant and dark and untamed.  The film, which contains some wonderful make-you-jump moments, is the perfect Halloween-night picture.

I’ve fulfilled my promise to Rey and am now going to start chomping on the beckoning bowl of Candy Corn.  After that, I’ll suck a few Molasses Kisses.  Later, I’ll pull out a DVD, put the ol’ feet up, and munch a buttered finger, er, Butterfinger.