The Moviegoer: Psykho killer – Chicago Reader

The Moviegoer is the diary of a local film buff, collecting the best of what Chicago’s independent and underground film scene has to offer.

It was a good week for some rewatches, one of which was timely with Halloween. On Tuesday, Tobe Hooper’s vastly underrated The Mangler (1995) screened at the Alamo Drafthouse as part of the newly minted Terror Tuesday series. I’d only ever watched it at home, so I jumped at the opportunity to see it on the big screen, and the enhanced viewing experience did not disappoint. Based on a short story by Stephen King (though King was among the film’s misguided naysayers) and starring Robert Englund (Freddy Krueger himself), it is, to quote a review from the Washington Post, “ludicrous from start to finish,” an assertion that I wholeheartedly endorse but for the right reasons. 

The titular “mangler” is a possessed industrial laundry press with a taste for blood that, at one point, becomes sentient and chases the surviving protagonists down a narrow flight of stairs. It’s wildly absurd, to say the least, and every minute is magic. Not only does it, in my opinion, rank high among Hooper’s swampy sagas of outre horror, but it’s also a wacky excoriation of late-stage capitalism vis-a-vis a contemporary setting that’s still somehow reminiscent of the industrial revolution, making it truly timeless. The mangler literally feeds on the blood of the workers and also the virgin daughters of the town’s powerful and wealthy so that they can maintain their power. For something apparently so ridiculous, it sure resonates as a simulacrum of the American experience.

On Wednesday, Halloween eve, I caught one of the final screenings of the monthlong Music Box of Horrors: The Dream Child programming, Psykho III: The Musical (1985), a new-to-me feature by Mark Oates and Tom Rubnitz. Much like The Mangler, it, too, is ludicrous from start to finish, but again in the best possible way. Adapted from Oates’s stage musical, which was mounted at the Pyramid Club (a famous queer East Village nightclub) in the early 80s, and capitalizing off the recency of Psycho II (1983), it doesn’t deviate too much from its Hitchcockian source material but does add some pretty catchy tunes into the mix. (“Loose Woman on the Loose” stays with you.) 

Another noteworthy screening this week was Clint Eastwood’s Juror #2 (which I reviewed for the Reader) at AMC River East. As an Eastwood enthusiast, I was eager to join the hordes of cinephiles dedicated to viewing his latest (and purportedly his last) film in theaters as a way to defend the auteur against Warner Bros.’ insulting decision to give the film just a small release at only 50 theaters nationwide. It’s cause for alarm when a major studio relegates an iconic director making serious adult dramas that are still commercially successful to such a strategy. (It was originally supposed to go straight to streaming.) 

Thankfully, there are repertory screenings to fill in the gaps where contemporary exhibition is lacking. This past weekend, the Music Box began its Dangerous Business: Elaine May Matinees series with A New Leaf (1971), one of those films that just gets better every time you watch it. I’m telling you, do not miss these. May’s films are not only better on the big screen but with an audience, as well. A woman down the aisle from me was doubling over with laughter; I felt the collective joy in my bones, a much-needed antidote to all the doom and gloom as of late. The next three screenings will likely play a big part in my upcoming columns, so I won’t go too in-depth on the series here, except to say that the director’s cut of Mikey and Nicky (1976) is screening this weekend, and I expect to see you there. 

Until next time (or Saturday, or Sunday), moviegoers.