Happy Halloween! The older I get, the more I struggle to give this holiday the zazz it deserves. I remember being in third grade and walking into class the morning after Ms. Froelich had decorated. Everything was spooky and surreal, ceilings adorned with orange and black crepe paper, hissing cats and flying bats taped to the windows. Throughout the month of October, kids came to class wearing contraband items like rubber witch fingers and vampire teeth. Everyone would sit in a circle, popcorn reading '90s kid nightmare fuel, "Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark." Inevitably, someone would always piss themselves. Froot Loops were strung onto lengths of Pull 'n' Peel Twizzlers and fashioned into makeshift necklaces to be worn, and snacked on, during the annual parade, where everyone pranced around in a circle as parents oohed and aahed over the horde of tiny witches and Disney characters.
When it came time for trick-or-treat, wrists were adorned with glow sticks from Oriental Trading Company and, if it was a particularly cold year, turtlenecks and long johns were layered beneath costumes, much to each child's chagrin. The air buzzed with the anticipation of perhaps being the lucky kid to receive a razor blade in their candy, thus appearing on the local news and becoming a minor celebrity. The Friday closest to Halloween featured special episodes of "Sabrina the Teenage Witch" and "Boy Meets World" during ABC's beloved TGIF programming block. Several channels, including Disney and Fox Family, had dedicated countdowns to the holiday where they played made-for-TV movies like "Halloweentown" and "Mom's Got a Date with a Vampire." Even after Halloween had passed, there were weeks of saved candy to get through, so the joy could last well into November if you played your cards right.
This year, I have zero plans because my favorite event is on permanent hiatus and I'm fostering two nine-week-old kitten brothers until November 12. They don't have official names, but I've been calling them Tex and (One-Eyed) Jack. I'm already dreading the day we have to return them to the Humane Society, so we'll be spending as much time together as possible until that fateful day arrives. It's not as good as '90s Halloween, but add kittens to any situation and it automatically becomes 100x better.
John Bowen was a British author who, much like Ken Cosgrove, cut his teeth in advertising while working on writing fiction in his spare time. He published three novels in the 1950s to sterling reviews before quitting his day job and going on to work as a full-time writer, both for the screen (TV), stage, and page. Despite having an active career from 1956 through the mid-1990s, I had never heard of him until McNally Editions reissued "The Girls," his ninth novel, in 2023.
It had been sold to me as suspense with gothic undertones, and while I agree with that, what I enjoyed most about it were the descriptions of domestic routine, along with the relationship between the titular girls (women), Janet Hallas and Susan Burt. When we first meet them, a loose boar has infiltrated their Gift Shop, a delightful little place full of handmade wooden clogs and homemade delicacies. They're kind of like proto-Martha Stewarts who not only excel in handicrafts, but harvest their own vegetables, whip up fancy terrines, and win first prize for their elderflower wine at the village's spring Flower Show. They are true Renaissance women who made a successful, quiet life for themselves in a small Warwickshire village as a lesbian couple in the 1970s — no small feat. Bowen and his partner, fellow writer David Cook, also lived in a small Warwickshire village and were together for over half their lives. I didn't find any evidence that Janet and Susan were based on them, but I have to imagine Bowen pulled some details from real life.
The girls live in peaceful harmony until one day, Sue, who is ten years younger than Jan, has an identity crisis that manifests in a solo self-discovery trip to Greece. When that happens, Jan, alone and riddled with anxiety, has a one-time tryst with a nice guy she meets at a craft fair. Sue returns, they reconcile, and Jan realizes she's pregnant. I don't want to tell you where it goes from there, but I will say that someone ends up dead and dumped in a septic tank. If that doesn't entice you, here's a little snippet to give you a sense of the third-person omniscient voice:
Consciously or unconsciously, the girls had fashioned a way of life which was as intricate as the web of any spider, the nest of any wren, and of which the purpose was not much to do with self-sufficiency or sweeping a room for anyone’s laws, but was a framework which would allow them to live together without hindrance and without being bored. In much the same way did the philosopher, James Mill, fashion for his son John a rational world in which to enjoy rational happiness, and only when John Stuart Mill discovered that he was not at all happy, and had a nervious [sic] breakdown to prove it, did that rational world fall to pieces.
John Bowen (left) and his partner David Cook (right), who was a presenter on a children's show called "Rainbow."
Read if you like: Barbara Comyns, Caroline Blackwood, Lisa Tuttle, Magda Szabó, Penelope Mortimer, Sylvia Townsend Warner, queer literature that's ahead of its time, women who get shit done.
Do I think Mubi is a good company? Umm, idk, but I must give them props for keeping some of my favorite directors flush with cash. Like yes, please shell out the big bucks for a Kelly Reichardt movie and then market it like it's "Ocean's Eleven" so that people leave the theater pissed that the title is ironic. I would also be confused if I thought I was going to watch a high stakes art theft movie and what I got was a pathetic, incompetent sad sack fucking up everything he touches for two hours. People in my screening actually got some of the humor, which made me really happy, but I did hear a few groans during the fifteen-minute-long sequence of James (Josh O'Connor) carrying paintings up a ladder. Anyone on Reichardt's wavelength realizes that scene is necessary for the eventual comedic payoff; haters see it and think it's a space filler because Reichardt is a bore with nothing interesting to say (lol as if).
Alex and I have been talking recently about directors who remake their own films (spiritually, not literally) that people didn't understand the first time around. She says Joachim Trier's "Sentimental Value" (2025), which I haven't seen yet, is "Louder Than Bombs" (2015) for dummies. This is not to say that "Sentimental Value" isn't a good movie or that people who like it are stupid, simply that it explains more to the viewer so the emotional beats aren't misunderstood. In the same way, Reichardt's "The Mastermind" is "Night Moves" (2013) for dummies. (While typing this, I realized that a common denominator in both of these earlier, misunderstood films is Jesse Eisenberg.)
Both Reichardt films involve a crime committed by dipshits who haven't thought it through and don't deserve respect. When writing about "Night Moves," I called the characters "idiots who desperately want the illusion of doing something meaningful to lend credence to their smug sense of superiority." The same sentiment applies to James, a man without a job, sponging off his parents to support his own family. He should do everyone a favor and commit suicide so they can collect the life insurance (check the fine print first), but instead he steals four paintings from a local art museum with no real plan of how to even sell them. At various points in the movie, different characters call out the cockamamie nature of the heist, a strong wink-nod from Reichardt that tells you how dumb James is if you haven't already figured it out yourself.
I plan on writing something longer about "The Mastermind" after I see it again, so stay tuned. If you've watched it, please leave a comment with your thoughts. I'm not sure where it lands in my personal Reichardt ranking list, but I think the cozy '70s vibes place it above "Night Moves," despite its more explicit themes. I can't resist incredible knitwear and a jazz score (done by Rob Mazurek).
Watch if you like: Godard, Stewart O'Nan, "The Secret History," characters who are privileged fuck-ups, finding humor in the mundane.
Speaking of fuck-ups, one of my favorite character types is the lovable fuck-up with a life in shambles because a strong sense of justice — and, ok, probably delusion — prevents them from conforming to society's expectations. The difference between this type of character and Reichardt's James is the lack of obscene privilege (beyond just, you know... being a white man), the desire to bring truth to power, and usually some kind of charismatic drug habit. In "The Lowdown," Ethan Hawke embodies this character with aplomb. He plays Lee Raybon, a self-declared truthstorian, who owns an excellent used bookstore and writes articles for a Tulsa n̶e̶w̶s̶p̶a̶p̶e̶r̶ long-form magazine about the evil deeds of the prominent Washberg family. After one of Lee's incendiary pieces is published, Dale Washberg (Tim Blake Nelson), the closeted gay youngest brother, commits suicide. Or does he? Lee immediately smells a cover-up and starts trawling around for proof.
I still haven't watched creator Sterlin Harjo's first show, "Reservation Dogs," or seen any of his movies, so this is my first experience with him and I must say that I'm impressed. As with "The Girls," I'm not particularly invested in the plot, but the cast, characters, and world-building are excellent. Even if nothing was happening, I would still want to hang out as Lee puffs on his vape pen and argues with Deidra (Siena East), his blasé goth employee. (At one point, she wears a Black Belt Eagle Scout t-shirt, so her coolness is unquestionable.) If I haven't already convinced you to watch, maybe it would help to know that Kyle McLachlan, Jeanne Tripplehorn, and Tracy Letts are in it? Killer Mike, Graham Greene, Dale Dickey, and Peter Dinklage also make appearances. The cat from "Coraline" has a major role, ffs! (I'm being facetious; Keith David rules/has been in a ton.) I have one more episode to watch before I'm caught up and I've been saving it for tonight.
Watch if you like: The Coen Brothers, "Lodge 49," "The Long Goodbye," Jim Thompson, Quentin Tarantino, "Atlanta," older men with questionable tattoos who always look dirty yet never lose their sex appeal.
I find it incredibly annoying that someone as successful as Adrienne Adams has so few biographical details available in 2025. She illustrated over thirty books (wrote five), many of which received award nominations, and lived to age 96. Why isn't there a biography or a short documentary about her? Give us something, universe. She was even married to a fellow children's book writer, John Lonzo Anderson, and illustrated several of his books. I don't believe for a single second that those two didn't have an interesting life together worthy of some kind of biopic. From what I can tell, they never had children, but surely there are some descendants out there in possession of journals, letters, etc. I'm adding this wild goose chase to my to-do list (harass prospective family). In the mean-time, here are some visual treats for your pleasure:
Shoutout to Uncommon Ephemera for preserving this cute-ass filmstrip adaptation of "Woggle of Witches" (1971).
From "The Halloween Party" (1974), written by Anderson.
From "A Halloween Happening" (Adams, 1981) and "The Littlest Witch" (Jeanne Massey, 1959).
I didn't have time to put together a spooky movie guide this year, so here's a quick update to my list from 2020 in case you're looking for something to watch tonight:
- "The Vanishing" (George Sluizer, 1988). Sluizer remade it in 1993 with American actors but trust me, you want the Dutch OG.
- "Murdering the Devil" (Ester Krumbachová, 1970)
- "In My Skin" (Marina de Van, 2003)
- "The Witch Who Came from the Sea" (Matt Cimber, 1976)
- "Possession" (Andrzej Żuławski, 1981)
- "Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me" (David Lynch, 1992)
- "Alucarda" (Juan López Moctezuma, 1977)
- "Mermaid Legend" (Toshiharu Ikeda, 1984)
- "Onibaba" (Kaneto Shindo, 1965)
- "Unsane" (Steven Soderbergh, 2018). Severely underrated!
If all else fails, you can watch the episode of "Pretty Little Liars" where Adam Lambert plays a Liberace-esque vampire.
I leave you with this, which I distinctly remembering seeing as a nine-year-old and screaming with glee (right before puberty hit and siphoned the glee out of me):
