For the longest time, the 1983 movie Nightmares has had to endure misconceptions. This includes the idea that the movie is really “a failed horror anthology TV pilot that instead got slapped together for a full theatrical release.” The backstory for Joseph Sargent’s omnibus certainly went through a game of telephone before getting fact-checked years later. […]
Image: Cristina Raines and William Sanderson in “Terror in Topanga.”
If you first saw Nightmares via VHS or DVD, then you would agree that it looks like a typical made-for-TV movie from the ‘80s. The Blu-ray from Scream Factory, however, is a godsend; this release did a bang-up job of cleaning up the flick, not to mention providing a widescreen cut that better captures the theatrical destination. And when you compare Nightmares to modern telefilms, it definitely boasts more flair and visual particulars, thanks to director Joseph Sargent and cinematographers Mario DeLeo and Gerald Perry Kinnerman. This was indeed shot for television, yet it also plays well on big screens.
Anthologies tend to include a framing device of some kind. In lieu of a tangible narrator or a wraparound story, though, Nightmares is immediately underway once you’re past its opening sequence. The movie’s lead-in prominently displays a set of menacing red eyes; these godlike peepers lord over the dark, barren and lightning-laden dreamland where those four following tales of the strange and uncanny reside. So while this prelude doesn’t offer much in the way of narrative tissue, it perfectly embodies the surreal tone in store.
It seems more logical to begin with “The Bishop of Battle,” the story that led to the creation of Nightmares, yet “Terror in Topanga” works better as an opener. It’s the shortest of the four chapters, has straightforward thrills, and most of all, paves the way for even weirder ideas. This starter segment should be familiar to fans of Urban Legend (1998), although the basis for “Terror in Topanga” existed long before Cristina Raines (The Sentinel) was put behind the wheel of a compromised vehicle.
In what wound up being a long anti-smoking ad, Raines’ chain-puffing character receives the best motivation for quitting her vice. A spree killer is on the loose in the Topanga area, and despite warnings from both the news and her husband, the protagonist slips out for more cigs that night. As you then take the backseat in this foreseeable ride-along, you realize you’re not alone—a fact that Raines’ role isn’t aware of until William Sanderson, as a gas station attendant, swoops in to save the day. Also, keep an eye out for Lee Ving (credited as Lee James Jude); the lead singer of Fear plays the story’s hidden threat.
Image: Emilio Estevez in “The Bishop of Battle.”
Unlike the other stories here, “The Bishop of Battle” doesn’t end so nicely. The chance for redemption is not in the cards for Emilio Estevez’s character, a young arcade addict whose need to beat the titular game costs him a lot more than a roll of quarters. This same segment stirs up nostalgia for that bygone era of spending your days and allowances in malls and arcades. Heads for vintage video games will also have fun spotting and recognizing all the arcade cabinets used—and destroyed—in this chapter. Bonus points if you can recognize Moon “Valley Girl” Zappa in her film debut.
The most technology-driven of the bunch showcases effects courtesy of Bo Gehring Associates. The vector-based graphics used for all the arcade malevolence, which presumably ate up the movie’s budget, look downright primitive these days; what was cutting edge for the time is now sorely antiquated. That said, the fusty VFX end up adding to the otherworldliness of “The Bishop of Battle.”
The theme of addiction that’s been shown so far is briefly quashed in the third chapter. The penultimate offering, “The Benediction,” can be broken down as Catholic Horror meets Steven Spielberg’s Duel. Lance Henriksen plays a priest whose faltering faith in God sends him straight into the path of evil. A road trip takes a turn as Henriksen’s holy man is stalked and terrorized by what can be best described as a demonic monster truck. The Car (1977) is another likely influence here, especially when you realize it and Nightmares are both Universal releases. The mild derivativeness notwithstanding, “The Benediction” is a harrowing thriller that delivers action, tension and one rather impressive entrance for the four-wheeled villain.
Image: Lance Henriksen in “The Benediction.”
Last but not least, we have the only tale here not penned by Christopher Crowe; Darkroom writer Jeffrey Bloom sends us off with the oddest story in this whole collection. The aptly named “Night of the Rat” has Veronica Cartwright and Richard Masur suddenly fending off rodent intruders in their suburban domicile. What they didn’t anticipate was this pest coming in the jumbo variety.
If the visual effects in “The Bishop of Battle” are considered dated, then the ones in “Night of the Rat” are downright ancient. However, looking past the dopey giant rat, the last segment is a well-told look into domestic distress. Bloom cleverly sewed ‘80s avarice into this story of vermin infestation, and the outcome is like no other. As it turns out, the real monster here is not that big, vengeful mother rat, but the materialism coursing through the patriarch’s veins and permeating every square inch of his yuppie domain.
The Los Angeles Herald-Examiner reckoned Nightmares’ initial lack of success was the result of the movie just not being scary and bloody enough. Shot in ‘82, then released in ‘83, this anthology came out in the midst of the post-Friday the 13th slasher explosion. And although the movie offered more than enough imagination, it couldn’t meet the current demands of horror audiences.
All in all, the stories of Nightmares hold up pretty well, regardless of any dubious special effects. This movie is clearly also not on the same level as Creepshow, but anthology enthusiasts shouldn’t hold that against it. They may even find themselves being won over by its creaky charm.
Image: Richard Masur and Bridgette Andersen in “Night of the Rat.”
