Frankenstein’s
Monster. Dracula. Freddy Krueger. Leatherface. Godzilla. Henry
Kissinger. These are some of the monsters whose names get evoked every
year at Halloween, the monsters with the highest Q ratings and maybe
their own personal publicists. But there are many more monsters out
there, monsters who kill, terrorize and stalk their prey far outside of
the limelight. For the next few weeks, we’re going to be paying tribute
to these Forgotten Monsters of Filmland.
Some
of these monsters are just a successful film away from making the
mainstream. Some were more popular years ago and have fallen out of
favor. Some are just sort of utterly bizarre. Some of these monsters
will be familiar to the loyal readers of CHUD.com, while others will
make just about everybody scratch their head. All of them deserve more
love. That’s where we come in.
“We put teeth in holes.”
Name: Children, The
AKA: The Ow Generation, The Chernobyl Bunch, Not Mine
First Appearance: The Children (1980)
Monster Type: Hugrats.
Its Place in the Film: Radioactive clouds make kids do the darndest things! One moment, they’re just ordinary packages of parental disappointment serenading their unusually tolerant bus driver on the way home from school; but when they pass through a thick, orange fog issuing from the local power plant, they’re transformed into weaponized income drains. And there’s but two ways to deal with these walking nuclear reactors: kill or be killed. Which is to say they’re a lot like regular children. The only notable differences are a) they’re a little slower than usual, and b) if you hug them, they’ll kinda charbroil you.
Distinguishing Characteristics: Beatific expressions. Perpetually outstreched arms. And, oh, those black fingernails. React violently to Captain Kangaroo.
Why It Is Forgotten: It cold be that audiences were too busy gorging on slasher flicks to bother with another cautionary tale of the Nuclear Age. Or it could be that they saw the movie and actually preferred New Year’s Evil. The Children also disappeared from home video for a time.
Why It Shouldn’t Be Forgotten: The premise of hug-happy killer kids reducing their parents to overcooked chunks of flesh has an undeniable appeal. And the wacky, drugged-out, live-in lesbian lover should absolutely get a film of her own. Seriously, it’s like Jill Clayburgh wandered in from the set of I’m Dancing as Fast as I Can and forgot how to act.
“They get moons and spikes and animated snakes. I get rubber dreads and a hall monitor badge.”
Name: Peloquin
AKA: Medusir. Doorman of the Lower, Lower, Lower East Side.
First Appearance: Nightbreed (1990)
Monster Type: Political Refugee.
Its Place in the Film: Clive Barker’s
adaptation of his own novella Cabal
looks less like a horror film and more like a group of goth kids made their own
version of the Mos Eisley cantina sequence. It’s all wagging tongues, rubbery appliances
and plenty of leather. Before knocking out the Sox with a walk-off homer, Aaron
Boone was a normal Canadian that wanted to be a monster. Finally at the gates
of Midian, the monster city he’s dreamed about, Peloquin is there to act as
doorman and hand over Boone’s introductory latex wound. Having helped Boone
become less than human, Peloquin’s ability to speak more clearly than any other
nightbreed makes him the go-to guy for explaining prophecy and consequently the
plot.
Distinguishing Characteristics: Canadian.
Variable skin color. Can probably roll a mean joint. Needs no lapel to wear a
pin.
Why It Is Forgotten: There’s so much
to look at in Nightbreed, and so many monsters odd enough that a single shot firms them up in memory, that Peloquin actually looks pretty normal by the end of the
film. You’ve got Baphomet, that fake Glen Shadix with stop-motion eye eaters,
and Cronenberg’s zipper-faced killer. Shit. Maybe this entry should have been
for the Berzerkers.
Why It Shouldn’t Be Forgotten: When so
many of Midian’s rent-payers are goofy and easy to write off as a cheap gag,
this mon makes a case for himself as a genuine personality. He gets prime real
estate in the plot and looks great shaking his dreads, either in the graveyard
or on the dance floor.
– Russ
Fischer