DRIVEN-IN SATURDAY
In the 25 or so years The Dauphin has been slaving over a hot SmithCorona, hammering out this quasicritical column, many film genres have come under scrutiny but rarely have we touched upon the subject of ghosts. This is not surprising. When one's tastes run toward the gory, the sleazy, the trashy and anything involving a combination of latex and power drills, one isn't likely to devote much attention to something as wispy and potentially whimsical as cinematic ectoplasms.
DRIVE-IN SATURDAY
DEAD! FROM NEW YORK!
Edouard Dauphin
by
In the 25 or so years The Dauphin has been slaving over a hot SmithCorona, hammering out this quasicritical column, many film genres have come under scrutiny but rarely have we touched upon the subject of ghosts. This is not surprising. When one's tastes run toward the gory, the sleazy, the trashy and anything involving a combination of latex and power drills, one isn't likely to devote much attention to something as wispy and potentially whimsical as cinematic ectoplasms. As a general rule of thumb, Drive-In Saturday prefers kooks, gooks and flukes to spooks.
Don't get me wrong. Over the years, Hollywood has given us a handful of superior ghost movies ranging from the genuinely disturbing (1944's The Uninvited starring Ray Milland) to the relentless (1963's The Haunting with Claire Bloom as a lesbo with ESP) to the witty (any of the Topper flicks). And let us not forget Casper who, if he was nothing else, was at least, well, friendly.