Will Morris introducing a movie at the Music Box of Horrors (photo taken by Author)
Every year, the Music Box Theatre in Chicago hosts the Music Box of Horrors movie marathon. For 24 hours, Chicago’s 95-year-old repertory movie house becomes the home of 12 to 15 horror movies, carefully curated to entertain, shock, and terrify a sell-out crowd of degenerate horror movie fans. Frequently, there will be Q&A sessions with actors, directors, writers, and other horror movie artists connected to what is being screened. In the lobby, varying pop-ups will sport horror-themed wares from artists, shops, and sellers from all around the Chicagoland area.
It’s a wild time and one that I enjoy attending every year. This year, I took notes on the films being shown and the proceedings. The goal here is to recount the experience and provide brief, capsule glimpses into these films—some of which are well known, while others flirt with the edge of full obscurity.
The Pre-Show
The line for the Music Box of Horrors starts to fill around 9:30 am, with doors opening at 10:30. I am not able to reside in the line, as I have a variety of errands to run before abandoning my wife and dog for 24 hours. As such, I cannot make it in until about 11:15ish. Fortunately, I have some friends who are able to grab me a seat. There’s no assigned seating at the Music Box, and everything is first come first serve. Thus, when I walk in, all I see everywhere are blankets and bags draped over chairs as attendees mill about, catching up with others, visiting the pop-up tables, or grabbing lunchtime popcorn.
There’s always a sell-out crowd here, and after you’ve attended a few Music Box of Horrors events, you start to remember some faces. My friends and I laugh about past marathons and talk about the films we’re excited to see this year. I’ve not done a ton of research, as I’m only really familiar with three to four movies—I’m prepared to go in blind and experience everything first-hand.
At 12pm, the hosts, Ryan Oestreich, Music Box General Manager, and Will Morris of the Oscarbate Film Collective, take the stage. Ground rules are set up: there will be breaks between movies, there will be a food truck later, seats will not be reserved/saved, you shouldn’t be a jerk, talk through movies, put away your phones, etc.—and then the marathon begins right on schedule.
Suspense (dir. Phillips Smalley & Lois Weber, 1913)
This year’s marathon kicks off with the 13-minute silent short Suspense. It’s a short thriller about a home invasion by a tramp, and very much a proto-slasher flick, one that lives up to its title. Most notable about the film itself is its frequent use of a triangle split shot, displaying the villainous tramp, the woman trapped inside her own house, and her husband, who can only helplessly listen in on the phone as she tries to outmaneuver her unwanted guest.
While the film itself is slight, its most notable addition to this marathon is the live score performance, composed just for this occasion by Maxx Mcgathey. For the piece, Mcgathey says that he’s created something very much inspired by John Carpenter’s scores. It’s a wonderful addition to the film, featuring pulsing, brooding piano and stabbing cello accompaniment. It’s a nice kick-off to what is to follow.
The Spiral Staircase (dir. Robert Siodmak, 1946)
No live score here as we roll right into the talkies era. The Spiral Staircase is another proto-slasher. The film is about a mute woman who is targeted by a mad killer during a tremendous thunderstorm that lasts for almost every minute of the runtime of this flick. (One imagines the early sound artists going nuts for the Foley effect opportunities).
This is a really decent flick with good performances, a tight storyline, and plenty of chiaroscuro-shaded atmosphere to make this a worthwhile watch. There are some fun supporting roles here, with Mrs. Warren the possibly deranged aunt portrayed by movie vet Ethel Barrymore, and a drunken kitchen maid played by none other than Elsa Lanchester, the Bride of Frankenstein herself.
The Crazies (dir. George Romero, 1973)
Slipping into the color era, this was one I’d been meaning to check out for some time. I had seen the remake in 2010, which was something more akin to a traditional zombie thriller, and expected that to be the case here. (It’s George Romero, for Pete’s sake, of course there’ll be zombies.) To my surprise, there really wasn’t any zombie action—I don’t think that’s why I found this one so disappointing, but it’s worth mentioning that my expectations probably colored my view here. (For what it’s worth, my friends all enjoyed this one a great deal, so I am likely the odd one out here)
A biological weapon is accidentally released on a small Pennsylvania town, which turns the populace into crazed homicidal lunatics. The competing storylines deal with the army personnel desperately trying to contain the breakout in the face of bureaucratic nonsense and a small band of regular joes trying to break out of the perimeter. Lots of folks in gas masks and white body suits with guns. The dread here is palpable, and the ending is about as bleak as they come. Though I didn’t enjoy it much, it’s safe to say that Romero did know what he was doing.
Probably In Michigan (dir. Cecelia Condit, 1983)
This short played before the next film, and in hindsight, I wish I had taken a bathroom break here instead of desperately trying to hold it. This short film follows two women speaking in sing-song rhyme about perfume and violence as they deal with a masked killer…maybe. Or it’s about consumerism in the 80s. Or not. I legitimately am not sure what I watched here, and I’m not 100% sure how to go about a second viewing to really cement my thoughts.
The best I can give you is: what if David Lynch had a video camera, an empty mall, and a couple of goat masks? Thank god this didn’t play at midnight, or I’d have likely freaked out and run into the streets of Chicago.
Zibahkhana, aka Hell’s Ground (dir. Omar Ali Khan, 2007)
This was one of the first announced films for the marathon and was advertised as Pakistan’s first splatter/gore film. It more than lives up to that promise, with plenty of blood and guts scattered throughout, drawing appropriate cheers from the hardcore horror fans in the audience (most of the crowd, it felt like).
As far as actual filmic concepts go, this movie is a gumbo stew of a dozen different flicks, with liberal helpings of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Evil Dead II, Return of the Living Dead, and Cabin Fever appearing as the most prominent “influences”. It’s not the most original flick, but it gets the job done, all while remaining entertaining as hell. Further, it’s a welcome sharing of another set of cultural norms entirely, even if in familiar trappings. As my friend Austin put it afterward, “It’s a beautiful thing that every country has dumb teens willing to drive down a clearly haunted path while taking drugs. Unites us as a planet.”
The Haunted Palace (dir. Roger Corman, 1963)
(This movie was preceded by a fifteen-minute tribute to Roger Corman created specifically for this marathon. Alas, this was the moment I chose to take care of my need for a full dinner. Thus, while this stirring and beautiful tribute was being screened, I was sitting on the small patio out front of the theater housing down a shrimp po’ boy from the Cajun food truck. We all make our choices in life.)
This was the first of two Vincent Price films screened at the marathon. Billed as part of Corman’s Poe cycle, it was actually inspired by a story by H.P. Lovecraft, of Cthulhu fame. As with any Lovecraftian affair, several tropes make appearances: beings from beyond our world; the Necronomicon; people with suspiciously fishy mutations; and classist and racist tropes.
Roger Corman knew how to direct a film, and he knew how to do it on a budget and still make it look good. If Corman is the John Ford of the B-grade horror movie, Vincent Price is his John Wayne. Here, both are at the top of their game. The film is atmospheric, colorful, and not afraid to visit some dark places, all while Price hams it up, a master at the peak of his craft. My personal favorite of the Poe Cycle remains The Pit and the Pendulum, but this is still a thoroughly enjoyable time.
Prom Night III: The Last Kiss (dir. Ron Oliver & Peter Simpson, 1990)
This was the first movie where one of the creative artists was in attendance. Ron Oliver was around for both Prom Night III: The Last Kiss and the screening of Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night II the previous night. He introduced this as a film where he wanted to make a slasher movie that was as close to a Looney Tunes cartoon as he could. If the movie achieves nothing else, he certainly succeeded at that. There is a slapstick nature to many of the kills, with characters at times literally bouncing off the walls, with one poor victim even serving up a literal banana split.
Prom Night III is about the former prom queen Mary Lou, who burned to death the night she was crowned prom queen. Now, she returns from the grave 30 years later. She sets her sights on a self-described ‘average Joe’ named Alex and goes on a murderous rampage to…win his affection? Drag his soul to hell? Provide the Canadian equivalent to A Nightmare on Elm Street? It doesn’t really matter, as the result is a hoot and a half. This was a stirring crowd-pleaser and probably earned the loudest reactions and cheers of the night. Manage your expectations accordingly and you’ll never be disappointed.
After the film, Ron Oliver stayed onstage for a Q&A with one of the hosts, providing a number of wild and insightful anecdotes about the making of Prom Night III. Did you know that the original financier of the film was José Menendez? And that later events caused the production of the film to be delayed? I sure didn’t!
The Alchemist Cookbook (dir. Joel Potrykus, 2016)
A low-budget indie film set in the woods of Michigan is the stuff that horror movie dreams are made of. This wound up being my favorite flick of the evening, telling the story of a young man named Sean who has set up camp in the Michigan woods. There, he pursues alchemical experiments, all in an effort to summon and commune with a demonic force beyond his control.
This had some of the funniest moments of the entire marathon, and also the most frightening sequences by far. The acting stands out here, with Ty Hickson and Amari Cheatom delivering stand-out performances. The woods in late autumn/early winter are the stuff that nightmares are made of, all dead leaves, dark spaces, and unsettling sounds echoing for miles and miles. At times, you’re fully aware of how alone you truly are. And at other times, you’re aware that you’re not alone. The sound design here is masterful, increasing the dread until it reaches an unforgettable boiling point. If you watch one movie from this list, I would strongly recommend The Alchemist Cookbook.
This was the second film featuring a Q&A, this time bringing Joel Potrykus to the stage. It was a really fun insight into independent filmmaking, as well as a chance for the director to take a victory lap after the fantastic reception that the film received. (This was a really fantastic crowd, and they were fully engaged for both the film and the talkback.)
Jaws (dir. Steven Spielberg, 1975)
I don’t know that I have anything particularly insightful to talk about for this movie that hasn’t already been said a million times over. It’s a perfect movie, with perfect performances delivered by Roy Scheider, Robert Shaw, and Richard Dreyfuss. John Williams and Spielberg begin one of film’s greatest collaborations. The terror of going into the water remains to this day.
I will add that watching this with a crowd is a trip. I will also admit that this is where I shamefully bowed out of remaining in the theater. Having a full-time job plus a dog who demands his morning constitutional at 6 am is not conducive to making it through a 24-hour-long movie marathon. I would have dearly loved to remain for all 24 hours, something I’ve done in the past. On the other hand, I’ve seen Jaws more times than I can count and was prepared to watch it in the comfort of my own home the next day.
You pick your battles.
Hellavator: The Bottled Fools (dir. Hiroki Yamaguchi, 2004)
There’s something to be said for a good night’s sleep in an actual bed vs. sleeping in a movie theater chair (non-reclining edition) trying to stay awake for the film itself.
I do have friends who stuck around for this, but in the interest of providing my perspective, I won’t relay their thoughts. I’ll simply link here to the summary on the Music Box website—you are free to make your own decisions.
Tales From The Darkside (dir. John Harrison, 1990)
See prior entry. I woke up about 6 am, walked the dog, and made it over to the theater. By this point, anyone awake is staggering around like a zombie, dazed, confused, and odorous. People still here at this time know what they’re about, and are not messing around.
I’ve heard this is a fun watch, but not fun enough to watch at 4 in the morning.
Nightmare aka Nightmare From A Damaged Brain (dir. Romano Scavolini, 1981)
Speaking of things that aren’t fun to watch early in the morning…I made it in for the back half of this Italian splatter film. Screened on the world’s most faded 35mm print, the only colors that truly popped were the sepia of the film grain and the red of the roughly ten million gallons of blood used for the kills. I have very little clue of what this was about, but if I wasn’t awake when I walked back into the theater, I sure was when an axe wound up embedded into one character’s face.
Who needs coffee when you have horror movies?
Poltergeist (dir. Tobe Hooper, 1982)
This was my most anticipated movie of the whole marathon, primarily because I hadn’t seen it since I was in high school. I was pleased to see that it mostly holds up, with a thoroughly entertaining and demented exploration of suburban sprawl gone horribly wrong. While this is often credited as a Spielberg production, Will Morris rightfully insisted that this was a Tobe Hooper affair. (One that was most definitely tempered down by Spielberg, but still the work of Hooper.)
The shocks and scares of this have faded a bit from what I remembered, dulled by both experience and a better knowledge of the kinds of shocks that can be portrayed in horror flicks. That said, the story remains thrilling and involving, with several legitimately creepy scenes scattered throughout. I will note, however, that the music score in this particular flick is doing far too much work, and oftentimes is more bombastic and intrusive than the film needs. If that is my only complaint, that’s the mark of a decent film. (Just don’t sit next to the full sound system when seeing this in theaters.)
Comedy of Terrors (dir. Jacques Tourneur, 1963)
We closed out the marathon with, as the host described, “Vincent Price giving the pissiest performance of his career”. Apparently, Morris described, everyone involved in the film was going through the shit at this point in their career, resulting in an overly hammy, campy tale about murderous undertakers. Billed as a slapstick comedy, the film did not succeed in its day but has developed a cult following in the present.
Vincent Price and Basil Rathbone, are going their hardest here, but if I’m being honest, Peter Lorre and Boris Karloff are not well suited for slapstick. If I’m being more honest, the entire cast was frequently upstaged by the exploits of Rhubarb, the fully credited cat that hangs around the funeral home where the villains plot their misdeeds. It’s a fun enough picture but haunted by the notion that it could have been just a little more with a better, more carefully plotted script.
The Post-Show
Thus concluded Music Box of Horrors 2024! After the closing credits of Comedy of Terrors, everyone made their way out front for a full group photo shoot. If you look closely here, I’m somewhere in the middle—easy enough to spot, as I’m the guy wearing a black hoodie with a beard.
If you’re ever in Chicago, I cannot recommend checking out a movie at the Music Box Theater enough. If you’re around in October, I insist that you take some time to see one of the many other movies that they screen under the Music Box of Horrors banner. Maybe even book some time to stick around for the next marathon in 2025. it’s a frightfully good time.
