As the decade shifted and the 90s became the 2000s, my taste in movies was shifting too. I was in high school then, taking in movies every weekend and contributing to the box office totals of those movies being specifically targeted for my demographic, even the scary ones.
While slashers had become my preferred form of teenage horror entertainment, 1999’s House on Haunted Hill proved that a more lavish, gothic horror setting could provide some fun, albeit cheesy chills. So, by the time Dark Castle’s second outing in their renewed cycle hit, I was primed for more haunted house zaniness.
Of course, I had no idea who William Castle was. No idea that these films were remakes. I was oblivious to the horror history the films were attempting to evoke and subsequently cash-in on. I was simply there to have a good time with my friends and jump out of my seat a couple of times, that is, if the movie accomplished what I had assumed it set out to.
I saw Thirteen Ghosts (2001) opening night and left the relatively packed movie theater without harboring strong feelings toward it either way. It was fine but, as a whole, the film seemed to be a jumbled mess of tone, structure, and character work, falling flat when all was said and done.
As it was, I forgot about it. I retained almost no memory of its premise or goings-on, relegating my recollection to the thumbnail of the poster and filing it away as just another forgettable title I saw in my youth. And there it stayed, languishing as an unremarkable experience.
But something happened in the decade or more it took for me to see the movie again. I watched a lot of horror. I fell in love with the genre— the good, the bad, and everything in between. So it was that when I found myself revisiting Thirteen Ghosts what felt like a lifetime later, I was struck by the ambition of its production, its effects, and its shockingly vast scope.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, it was still a mess. Bouncing from melodramatic romance, psychic crime thriller, and good old-fashioned gory, exploitative horror movie, Thirteen Ghosts jams so much convoluted story into its 91-minute runtime that its a wonder there’s time for any ghosts at all, let alone thirteen. But, still, it’s that same manic energy and willingness to run in every direction at once that makes the movie such a blast to watch.
The set design is immaculate. The mansion made out of glass shaved to reflect countless demonic sigils and work as a functioning machine to open up the gates of Hell alone makes the film worth watching. Then there’s the practically realized ghosts held hostage there. Cartoonishly terrifying, KNB EFX Group delivers thirteen distinct and monstrous personalities which, while they do not all accumulate the screen time they deserve, imprint the film with a seal of effects work quality that very few studio horror films from the era can claim.
While the ghosts themselves offer the best and most compelling effects and character work in the film, it’s one of the deaths they cause that holds as the standout practically accomplished gore sequence. For, when Ben Moss, the estate’s lawyer, is confronted by the naked ghost of the Angry Princess leading to his dicey demise, the film’s ability to execute flawless and utterly disturbing practical effects is never more clear.
The film may be messy and lack the narrative and tonal cohesion of what some might consider a horror classic, it delivers in most every category a horror fan could ask for. A silly, over-the-top, sleekly directed horror opus that provides thirteen distinct, monstrous specters and one of the best looking and most disturbing kills ever splattered across the silver screen.
From its clear cut origins on the page to its brilliant physical realization, this scene represents why films don’t need to be perfect to be beloved.
THE SCENE
The ghost cages open and Ben Moss finds himself face to face with the visage of the suicide victim he had been taunting moments before. He backs away as her naked form approaches, nervously explaining himself. He laughs. Suddenly, two glass panels close, sectionalizing him in two halves. His mouth opens in surprise as the front of his body slides slowly down the glass, leaving his back half bloodily propped against the other side. After a moment, it falls as well. The woman vanishes as she hears voices approaching.
THE SCRIPT
Excerpt taken from the script ‘Thirteen Ghosts’ written by Neal Marshall Stevens and Richard D’Ovidio
THE SCREEN
Opening doors . . .
Ben turns to see the door that held the Suicide back slides open.
The scene begins on a close up of a glass door marked with strange symbols. The image jumps from that of Ben Moss nervously staring from the door to the hallway before him and then back to the door. It climaxes rather quickly with the emergence of a grisly woman.
A close up of Ben’s face, realization dawning, carries the viewer back to a medium shot of the naked woman. Her pale, sallow skin is covered in thick, open knife wounds. Her eyes are ringed with black and her greasy hair frames her deadly gaze which is transfixed on the man before her.
Her obvious beauty in life, now transformed to grotesquery by the inferred wrongs that have been inflicted upon her, is the perfect manifestation to torment Ben. He seems to be a man of high taste and much disregard for others around him, viewing people as things to manipulate rather than human beings. Aside from the earlier depiction of him taunting and sexualizing the ghost, subsequent close-ups reflect this as well, suggesting a deep disturbance regarding what is coming to him rather than overt, in-the-moment shock.
The woman disappears and reappears before him, blocking the route to the stairs. In response, Ben back-pedals in horror. He awkwardly attempts to quell the spirit with the unscripted line, “I was just kidding before, a little lawyer humor,” but fails to make an impact. The woman referred to on the page as The Suicide and by the filmmakers as the Angry Princess continues forward without reaction, accompanied only by wispy sounds that border on language floating in the ether, communicating only dread.
[Ben backs] right into an open doorway . . .
As he steps over the threshold, there’s a flicker of light in the doorway and a sharp SNICK.
The glass panels move quickly. They slide shut from both sides of Ben. He stands very still in a medium-wide shot as the two panels close against his back. The woman is in the foreground facing him as he jolts into an awkward, unmoving position. The image cuts to a close up of his face: his eyes are open in surprise and his mouth is agape. Blood starts to trickle down from his temples.
As scripted, Ben stands in the doorway, surprised, apparently paralyzed.
Back in the medium-wide shot, Ben’s eyes dart across the room. The woman glides forward in a high angle medium close up. Her expression remains the same, but her eyes carry a look of mild triumph. The image cuts back to Ben as his glasses tumble off his face, stems sliced through. The script calls for his briefcase and money to be sliced in half as well, but the only other item shown dissected here is his tie, which separates from the back half of his neck and flitters to the floor.
In a close up: Ben slowly slides to the ground. Or at least his front half does. Treating the action like a reveal, half of Ben’s body finally begins to slip down against the glass. On the other side, the latter half of his body remains upright, propped against the panel, his insides becoming visible as his front half steadily moves toward the ground. Just as scripted, the glass has [bisected] him laterally, slicing straight through his body.
Although the script doesn’t call attention to it, the image again cuts back to the woman, surveying Ben’s demise. Then, the image is back on Ben’s other half, a portion of his brain visible through his skull as though on display in some demented museum. Finally, the second half of Ben’s body begins its slow descent, leaving a slimy trail of viscous red on the other side of the glass.
In the film, the woman leaves just after, reacting to the voices of the others in the house. Still, it’s clear that she not only wanted Ben to die, she wanted to experience it. As it says on the page, As Ben’s remains collapse wetly to the floor, the Suicide smiles and vanishes . . .
After all, there is only so much abuse one soul can take.
THE BLOODY CONCLUSION
“Whatever’s written on the page,” director Steve Beck said on his commentary track for Thirteen Ghosts found on the Scream Factory Blu-ray disc, “is going to be photographed in-camera.”
Anyone that loves the movies knows that taste can be a fickle thing. What I love today, I may well loathe in a year (or vice versa). In ten years? Who knows.
Horror is a genre that is ever-evolving and, yet, cyclical. It’s a genre of high and low art, offering something for everyone— especially those who can appreciate the parts, even when those components don’t always add up to some grand whole.
Thirteen Ghosts is a movie comprised of a great deal of such parts: fantastic effects work, a ridiculously impressive set, and a truly horrific group of ghosts that most horror films could only dream of employing. While it doesn’t all entirely work, it still stands as a very fun time at the movies, presenting a haunted house chiller with its own distinct flavor.
And, of course, little in the film’s brisk runtime represents its sticking power more than the sectionalized lawyer as overseen by the scarred woman. The page presents the scene with simplicity, presenting the action in an incredibly straight forward way and providing the effects team with a clear roadmap to visualize the gruesome death effectively.
As is typically the case in movies from that time, the final effect was a combination of digital and practical work. The front half of the body was a puppet equipped with blood tubes. The actor’s face was digitally added to the puppet in post-production, providing enough physicality to trick the viewer’s mind into seeing a man cut in half. The back half was practical as well, depicting anatomically correct insides that were obscured enough through the glass and the goo to paint a truly chilling image of disgust.
It’s clear when you watch the film that the creators across the board had a practical mentality. In his commentary Beck notes that the philosophy on set was, “if you can shoot it, just shoot it”. While that seems obvious, it was not always the case and here it helps a movie that might not have worked at all become something worth revisiting and even celebrating in the horror world.
Sure, when it came out, I didn’t have a lot of love for Thirteen Ghosts. But, in my eyes, the true test of a film is not how I feel about it day one, but how I feel years on. It’s whether or not I want to go back. And, although Thirteen Ghosts may reside in a domicile mechanized to penetrate the very eye of Hell, I think it’s one I’ll definitely be revisiting from time to time.
It might be messy, but, hey, horror’s like that sometimes— especially when bisections are involved.
