Apologies for the delay since the last post, back in… February? Wow. A lot has been going on in my life, but nothing will ever keep me away from horror. Speaking of horror, let’s jump into it.

Terrifier Franchise: Perhaps I treated you too harshly

To say I have had a tumultuous relationship to the Terrifier franchise is to put it lightly. I first approached the series during my 31 Days of Halloween essay project in 2024, where I had watched the first two films. In the time since, I have seen Terrifier 3, and re-watched the trilogy again. While I still have my criticisms about elements of the franchise, I will admit that the series has really grown on me and I consider it to be quite iconic; Maybe one of the most iconic series of horror films within the last 15 to 20 years or so.

So, what changed? What are my feelings now? What sparked this reappraisal?

It’s still kind of a mess, but in a fun kind of way?

Before getting into why I look at the Terrifier franchise a little differently, I should note that my assessment of the films still largely remains. I enjoyed the majority of the first film but found the move to the supernatural uninspired and damaged my overall impressions of start of what will be a quadrilogy. This only got worse with the commitment to the bit in Terrifier2 and Terrifier 3.

I don’t like the loss of the grounded, ugly psychopathy of Art the Clown. I still consider it the first film becoming a tool in a larger cosmic conflict between Heaven and Hell to be it’s biggest flaw. It comes off as a graft of self-importance to something that proved more interesting in a simpler, meaner state. Knowing Art as a tool of demonic forces just feels safe, rather than transgressive, especially for a film series that aims to be transgressive through depictions of violence. The cosmic struggle ironically makes the series feel safer and less terrifying.

While I don’t agree with how Damien Leone chose to shift the series, it is not about my choice. I need to take the art on its greasepaint face and either embrace it or not. With my re-watch of the film I have since accepted the direction it is going and bought into it to a degree. I don’t think the cosmic struggle is worth the squeeze, but if it gives me more horrific gore to enjoy in a 4th Terrifier film, then I will roll with it.

But if I am still so bitchy about the aspects of the film series, why am I reappraising it and finding myself more positive about it overall?

Haunted Houses and Art as an Icon

Ultimately, two things helped me to look at the Terrifier franchise with a new sense of acceptance. Hell, I am happy to admit I am a fan.

The first thing was seeing some graffiti in my Podunk SoCal town that depicted Art the Clown. The second was attending Universal Studios Hollywood’s “Halloween Horror Nights” this year. Both these points lean toward a central idea a single word: Icon.

Art the Clown is pretty goddamn cool as far as horror characters go. He has the recognition and the popularity. In many ways, the ascendance of Art the Clown through Terrifier evokes some of the greater slasher icons in horror history. Seeing him in his recognizable, stripped down form as graffiti art on the side of a paint-supply building reduces the idea to a singular image that is unidentifiably the character. Art the Clown is a capital-T Thing in horror.

This was only further emphasized to me in my trip to Universal Studios where among the festivities, the Terrifier house and the roaming Art the Clowns around the park were absolute standouts. Terrifier, by far, was the most popular of the scare attractions when I attended, even dwarfing wait times for the ever pervasive Five Nights at Freddy’s walk through.

It all just clicked for me then. I was most excited for the Terrifier walk through. It was exciting to round a corner of the park to see the Clown roaming around. It was great to see him menace park goers with a sudden honk of a horn. I saw him expressed as an icon on the side of a building in my town.

Art the Clown is today’s Freddy Krueger. Today’s Michael Myers. Today’s Jason Voorhees.

Art is a horror icon.

Terrifier, you’re cool with me

While I still have my issues with choices made in the films and general criticisms, I have really grown to enjoy them. I am able to buy into what Leone is selling and go along with the ride, hoping to see some gooey, fucked up kill I’ve not seen before in the fourth film, whenever that arrives. Just as not every film in other slasher icon oeuvre wins me over, I still find joy in the characters. They still give me that haunted house joy.

And I guess I even give a shit about the overall story now, if I think about it. Who knew that crazy clown was so magnetic?

I’m sure Damien Leone did.

Thanks for reading this installment of Revenge of Graphic Content. Please share your thoughts on this post in the comments below. If you want to support my writing, please consider supporting be on Ko-Fi. Special thanks to Fancaps.net for the Terrifier franchise stills.

The post Revenge of Graphic Content #14: Reappraising the Terrifier Franchise appeared first on hpkomics.com.

Hello and welcome back to Revenge of Graphic Content. This week I wanted to die into yet another film (this quickly established itself as a film-heavy dive into horror, didn’t it?) with Heretic (2024), the latest film from A24. And no, this isn’t really a review, it’s mostly an essay. I do give you a brief assessment though, so, huzzah!

A brief assessment

Heretic turned out to be quite a fun movie. I am not reviewing it here, but if you want to know if you should see it, I would suggest at least giving it a try. It is a pretty standard A24 horror film in the sense it is well-produced, is generally entertaining, and has a novel enough concept.

I’d give it a solid three out of five ghost emojis. If you are looking for an assessment of the film, that is where I would put it. Not a bad outing for the writing and directing duo of Scott Beck and Bryan Woods.

Heretic (2024): 3/5

Heretic is a lot like the standard A24 horror film in that it is more concerned with the appearance of being elevated to the degree that the film just kind of exists. In the words of Peter Griffin, it insists upon itself. The film can do more to earn a level of prestige but ultimately comes to a stop, just before the goal.

But, what I really want to write about, and we’re in spoiler territories below, is the smell of bullshit that pervades both points of view of the film. Not that this is a bad thing, as the movie is very much an exploration of belief vs. disbelief, but it also does a fairly good job of making both sides look like bullshit. It’s the enlightened centrist of religiosity-themed horror.

The film loses the plot, however, in the rather predictable and small-minded motivations of one of the central characters.

God’s Not Real, but Also He Is, Maybe

First of all, if you can, take a former Mormon to see the movie with you. It’s an experience. At several times my partner was happily hearing Hugh Grant’s Mr. Reed criticizing Mormon doctrine. To be fair, there is material to criticize about the church, but also I had to remind her that he was the bad guy.

Therein lies the central issue with the film – you get what you take into it as far as belief goes. I am more along the lines of an atheist in the sense that I have no idea what could be out there, but I try not to be smug or assertive about there. I see no evidence of something greater and therefore do not commit to anything beyond the observable and material world.

The film pits Mr. Reed against two missionaries, Sister Barnes (Sophie Thatcher) and Sister Paxton (Chloe East), in a brutal test of faith (or is it?) in the basement of his home. The somewhat affable but supremely awkward Reed coerces and tricks the missionaries into a cruel puzzle box scenario that drifts between a lecture on the nature of faith, a repudiation of their desire to believe in something, and a cruel social experiment and power play masked in the garb of pseudophilosophical malarkey. Both sides take their roles as the arbiters of their perceived views on faith. It’s largely flat, introducing larger ideas that aren’t explored to their potential. The curious wrinkle lies in the roles of the Sisters, who represent the faithful but differ in zealotry and pragmatism.

Sisters, Sisters, here be a Heretic

The Sisters are presented as fairly complex, faithful characters, with Barnes appearing to be more outwardly devout, to a degree, due to her implied past as a recent convert. Paxton seems more pragmatic and ultimately flexible of the pair, her outward expression of belief and proselytizing coming off as her desperate to show she can be a good Mormon but not quite sticking the landing. The details of her connecting quotes spouted by Reed to comics as opposed to Voltaire, for example. Barnes is more worldly but seemingly more committed; an elder figure who has internalized the teachings of her faith and the criticisms of it and is resolute. Paxton is the newer figure trying to come to an understanding in Heretic.

The film does not take a committed stance on the issue of belief and disbelief. That is not something I would want. I can handle ambiguity in situations.

I like the ending as it stands; did Sister Paxton die in the snow or not? Does the butterfly symbolize Barnes coming back to see her, or are they the hallucinations of someone in their final moments? It’s good stuff, it works within the context of the film which shows both sides of thought as taking several large leaps in logic to justify their lack of knowledge.

Well, that all depends on how we (dis)believe Reed’s whole point to his cruelty. Sister Paxton puts together in the climax this is about an issue of control. Is it really suggested that Reed’s hypothesis is that the point of religion is a desire to control others? It’s junior college-level philosophy that offers little; it’s all so flimsy.

That’s it? He’s just a control freak?

I feel like the positioning of Reed’s overarching point, as laid out by Sister Paxton, to be something like that undercuts the character. As a result, his manipulations and seemingly dimestore philosophical arguments (such as evoking Star Wars as a future ground for religion) are more earnest on his part than I feel they should have been. The film sets up that he knows he is spinning bullshit to test the Sisters. Barnes calls him out on this, Reed is cagey in his reactions. The points he lays out in the gauntlet, the lecturing, the clear weakness in his point of view feel like they were either in service of something greater, or, equally terrifying, a mask for nothing.

I almost want to just take the stance that Sister Paxton was incorrect in her assessment of what Reed wanted. The film would be the better for it. I suppose one could interpret his power-play within the basement as him positioning himself as a God of sorts, but it feels too thin. It feels too neat; a small man making himself feel big, a man who thinks he is smarter than he is. I suppose that is it, in the end.

But why does Heretic feel so hollow to me? It is a film where nothing matters, something bleak. I am not above bleakness in film. But that bleakness doesn’t really serve a point, here. Mr. Reed is a character whose suggested motivations ultimately do him a disservice. Either make him a psychopath and pseudo-intellectual or have him tap into a larger truth than something you might hear at a college’s atheism society’s weekly minutes

Heretic isn’t all that heretical.

There are interesting elements seeded into Heretic and the discussion around belief and disbelief. However, Scott Beck and Bryan Woods pull their punches to such a degree the film just ends up entertaining rather than something a little more weightier. I don’t dislike the centrism at the heart of the film and its ending, but it jettisons a great character with flimsy motivation, which I definitely dislike.

Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think about Heretic or my take on the film in the comments.

The post Revenge of Graphic Content #3: Heretic (2024) appeared first on hpkomics.com.

The screening also featured bonus features about the visual effects process, which won the film its Oscar.

It certainly was a step up from Terrifier 3.

Godzilla Minus One – Image, Music, Tears

2023’s Godzilla Minus One uses Akira Ifukube’s “Godzilla (Main Theme)” three times. The first time occurs during the breathtaking full reveal of a post-atomic Godzilla in all of his gory. He doesn’t so much attack Ginza but rather leaves a wake of terror and destruction in his mere walking. The score is only partial here. Its focus is mostly on the iconic opening notes and the dramatic horn that signals his arrival. It reflects the terror and majesty of the situation at hand.

A God walks the Earth and in his wake, people are dashed, burned, and broken, barely registered to him; after all, what is the average person to a God?

It is an incredible moment in an incredible film. The majesty of the monster is matched by the perfect fusion of stunning visual effects and a score to keep pace with what is seen on screen, handled deftly by director, writer, and visual effects supervisor Takashi Yamazaki (with co-direction of visual effects by Kiyoko Shibuya).

Godzilla fans ate well thanks to this movie, but then again, Godzilla fans have been eating well for nearly a decade now as Godzilla hasn’t been this culturally relevant in a while. The one-two punch of the Monsterverse and the release of Shin Godzilla (2016) and Godzilla Minus One from Japan show the King of the Monsters is more beloved than ever.

For the Love of Godzilla

I have seen Godzilla Minus One six times so far. Four times in color and twice in the special Godzilla Minus One (Minus Color) version. The latter is my favorite version. It is a film that I adore. When I weigh out the releases of 2023, it stands out as my absolute favorite.

Not only as a Godzilla fanatic, mind you, but as a film, in general. It deftly blends the horror and the charm of the kaiju genre with a compelling human narrative rich with great writing, aching drama, and philosophical meaning. Minus One is a Godzilla film that does everything I want out of a Godzilla film. It also takes Godzilla back to his roots of horror and monstrosity. I love Godzilla of all flavors, even Zilla, but Godzilla the world-ender is my favorite incarnation.

Operation Wadatsumi

Back to the iconic theme, we hear it the second time, later, in an entirely different context, as Operation Wadatsumi begins. It emerges as the endgame as Mankind clashes with God, and we get the classic theme in full, but it takes a curious and hopeful tone in the context of the scene.

The dramatic strings king in around 50 seconds in, and then transition to an alternating rhythm as the boats kick in to commence the attack against the sea monster. The image of the Japanese citizens waging a desperate gambit in what is almost assuredly a hopeless fight against an atomic-powered disaster is beautiful, empowering, and makes me cry every time.

Yes, I have seen the film six times. I always cry at the same part and the images and music come together in the desperate struggle against Godzilla. The combination hits perfectly.

The horns represent the unstoppable force of Godzilla. The strings represent the immovable object of the human spirit. They shift and duel throughout the score. I could say more about other elements of the score as arranged by Naoki Satō; the score outside of these moments is every bit as good as the Godzilla Suites. The usage of a droning, uneven tone to represent the trauma of failed kamikaze Kōichi Shikishima (Ryunosuke Kamiki) is a particular highlight in punctuating the horror of war and the legacy of it that Godzilla represents.

Cinema With No Irony

The claim of something being “pure cinema” these days is a bit of a meme. It’s become a post-modern rallying cry of the online film nerd. It has been used interchangeably as a joke just as much as a marker of elitism about what real film is or not. The climax of Godzilla Minus One is Operation Wadatasumi, and the fusion of narrative, cinematography, performance, and score exhibited in these moments is cinema in its highest form. The tension has risen to its highest moment, and the sound of “Godzilla Suite II” is our signal to exhale. We’ve crested the hill, the resolution lies down the slope. Whatever be what may between the post-war Japanese citizens and the menacing entity that threatens to drag them back down to the depths of despair brought upon them through war will happen. We can only witness.

Some people may not get the appeal. That is something that is not uncommon to genre films; especially regarding cinema of Japan for US audiences, and especially kaiju films. But, the success of Godzilla Minus One means something about the broader power of The King of the Monsters. The visual effects Oscar was for visual effects, undoubtedly. But I think it also represents more than that to a degree. It is one of the only ways to recognize the power of the image of Godzilla contemporarily, at least until a whole lot of critics and academy folks are willing to come to terms with the fact that these films can be and have been truly great.

And believe me, Godzilla Minus One is great. I’ve seen it six times, and I cry every time. Not bad for a monster movie.

The post Revenge of Graphic Content #2: Godzilla Minus One – Image, Music, Tears appeared first on hpkomics.com.

This ended up skewing more toward a review, so I might as well embrace that. This is a spoiler-free review of Terrifier 3.

Terrifier 3: Holiday Hell and Grisly Gore

I have a decidedly mixed history with Terrifier. I was pretty annoyed by the paranormal swerve of the first film from 2016 during the 31 Days of Halloween project. The gore was pretty great, which to me seems to be the primary driver of the project. The cinematography was passable, if not a bit flat. But by far, the character of Art the Clown intrigued me.

He was disturbing, funny, and prone to bouts of very relatable and human quirks. That is what pulled me into the first film. Nothing makes me laugh like the incongruity of Art going stonefaced, whipping out a Glock. However, the paranormal reveal of the character harmed the overall movie. I felt tricked, and not in a fun way, especially with how much of a swerve the reveal was.

Terrifier 2 (2022) was a letdown, a film of diminishing returns. It doubled down on the paranormal antics of a character who was vastly preferable as just a crazy clown. Worse now, the film was introducing lore to the character and positioning the series as a battle between good and evil. It was still gory and the cinematography had improved, as well. But still, something stuck in my craw.

Just let the clown be a crazy clown. He doesn’t need extra significance. He doesn’t need a sidekick.

So with the background and perspective, I saw Terrifier 3 (2024).

Terrifier 3: Impressions

I understand the direction Damien Leone wants to take in the series. The emphasis on continuity and world-building is now a firmly established element of what Terrifier is as a franchise. It is not what drew me to the first film, but this is the vision of the creator. I came into Terrifier 3 expecting all of this, and the film doubled down on all those elements. But I didn’t necessarily hate it either.

The Good

The gore continues to be the highlight of Terrifier as a franchise. The production team unleashed all sorts of foul brutalizations to make people squirm, and it is a challenge to figure out which kill was the worst fate, conceptually. As a whole, the kills were largely fantastic and there was plenty of blood to be had.

The Christmas theme of the film was a nice spin on the formula and presented some interesting situations. Seeing Art the Clown (David Howard Thornton) wander around in the world’s greasiest Santa suit was quite a fun image, especially given the clown’s propensity for lugging around a garbage bag of tools to begin with. I don’t know if this theme was a one-off, but I would like to see Terrifier 4 tackle Arbor Day. The addition of an original song about a “Terrifier Christmas” is a potentially fun pattern to follow in other releases.

The cinematography in this film was also a marked improvement over the prior two. The lighting appeared better overall, and there were more interesting uses of the camera than I had seen in the entirety of Terrifier 2. The film also managed to shake some of the overly digital appearance that dogged the prior entries.

I also appreciated the cameos from some horror icons. I won’t spoil who, but if you know, you know.

The Not-So-Good

There are elements of the film that are fun as hell, but you have to wade through an unnecessarily severe story exploring a battle between good and evil rather than dealing with a more compelling exploration of trauma and the effects of surviving a massacre. Sienna Shaw (Lauren LeVera, turning in the best performance outside of Art the Clown) is a survivor of a bonkers massacre, and exploring the consequences of that is the best part of the story presented; tying her experiences to some cosmic war, and the inheritance of a sword from her artist father is just uninspired.

The lack of consistency between elements established in Terrifier 2 (2022) also proves an obstacle; we get references to the clown cafe and even hear the music on a mall speaker, but a vision of it would make sense, some kind of thematic nightmare sequence, much as how the concept was used in the first film.

The utilization of Jonathan Shaw (Elliot Fullam), for example, is another element of how Terrifier 3‘s lack of consistency and inability to show things that are relevant to the story; Large swaths of the film are just elements of “this happens” or “this happened off-screen” and it is largely unsatisfying.

The film’s ending is even more of a sequel hook than the prior films, and I can’t say I was a fan. I preferred the weirdness of Art being the highlight in those sequel teases of the first two Terrifier films; here, it feels like we’re in Terrifier 3: Chapter One territory. It’s very clumsy and overly direct, unlike the others.

Terrifier 3: The Bottom Line

More of the same, only more so, Terrifier 3 fully commits to the larger story Leone wants to tell, often to mixed results and an unsatisfying sequel-hook ending, and character fates being handled off-screen end up annoying. When the series indulges in the holiday havoc and extreme kills, the film works best. A tepid story, however, spoils the Christmas spirit.

The post Revenge of Graphic Content #1: Terrifier 3 (2024) appeared first on hpkomics.com.

My experience writing so much about horror last month was a huge deal for me. It gave me a creative outlet that I greatly enjoyed, and allowed me to discover new ways to approach horror films without focusing so heavily on criticism, which can be boring to do. I would rather find something constructive to discuss than drag a work through the mud. The marathon of October’s essays also became the genesis for this larger blogging project on my end for 2025.

I don’t want to engage with horror with the rapidity in which I did in October. Writing 31 essays in as many days continually would not be good for my health. However, I want to continue engaging with the genre I love, and I think I know how to do it.

Introducing…

In 2021 and 2022, I wrote a column for Haunted MTL called “Graphic Content.” This cleverly-titled series focused on reviewing horror comics. Between the main series and the “Just Swamp Things” sub-series, I had amassed about 50 installments covering many different comics, many of them ongoing titles. I didn’t start the numbering system until several editions into the series, but it was my longest-running project on the site.

For example, here is my final regular column, and the final edition of “Just Swamp Things.” I would write about everything from new releases to ongoing explorations of titles I was a huge fan of.

Thinking about it now, I realize that I can still use Graphic Content as a title, and merge it with the exploratory and emergent writing of the 31 Days of Halloween. I wanted to explore horror, but I also wanted to keep it organized. This confluence of a new approach and an old project seemed to sew together nicely.

So allow me to introduce you all to Revenge of Graphic Content (2025).

How has Graphic Content Evolved?

The idea is that every year I will take the column and rename it, taking from different classic horror titles to keep them fresh. I will also, similar to how I am handling 31 Days of Halloween, try to collect all of the essays into a single source, perhaps as a zine or book, wherever the funhouse leads me. But ideally, you just move from one sequel column to the next, year after year.

At least, I am aiming for this column to continue that long.

I am also expanding the scope while narrowing the approach. As far as the scope, I will be covering horror on the page, screen, and speaker. Wherever my whims take me, I now have the return of Graphic Content to allow me an outlet. As for the approach being narrower, I am less concerned with the nature of reviews, though elements of them may worm their way in, but rather, continue the essay approach I took during the 31 Days of Halloween project.

I feel good about this – I want to have nice, organized boxes in which to write and eventually break. I think Revenge of Graphic Content stands a chance of being a good sequel.

And with that, when you next see this column update, I’ll be writing about Terrifier 3.

The graphic used for the 2025 edition of the header comes from the public domain comic Adventures Into Darkness #8.

Here is a full listing of Graphic Content articles at Haunted MTL.

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