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Movie Title: The Frighteners
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Just before doing “Lord of the Rings,” director Peter Jackson (who can be seen in a cameo as “Man with Piercings”) made an off-kilter horror/comedy movie called “The Frighteners,” the narrative of the undead and the guy who makes a living off of them. Though “Frighteners” was barely in theaters at all, this cult flick is comical, creepy, well-acted and wonderfully directed.

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Frank Bannister (Michael J. Fox) has seen spirits and apparitions ever since the car smash that killed his wife. Now he operates an amateur “ghostbusting” operation that is supposed to exorcise ghosts from people’s houses — the jam is that the ghosts who haunt those houses are in league with him (Chi McBride as the opinioated afro-ed Cyrus, Jim Fyfe as the nerdy Stuart, and most of John Astin as what is left of The Contemplate) .

Frank’s business certainly isn’t injure by the fact that for years after a serial killer’s murderous spree, people have died mysteriously of heart attacks. Then Frank starts seeing fiery numbers emblazoned on the foreheads of people who will die, including the husband of doctor Lucy Lynskey (Trini Alvarado) . As if trying to halt a specter of death weren’t hard enough, crazed FBI agent Milton Dammers (Jeffrey Combs) believes that Frank is the one murdering people. But the dismal specter is serene killing — and Lucy is the next victim.

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Peter Jackson once said that he has a “moronic” sense of humor, and it shows up in all its glory here — from bug spray dissolving a ghost’s face to a share of talking oily sludge to a drill sargeant ghost with submachine guns, this is uncommon and absolutely hilarious. It’s the perfect blend of comedy and panic.

But he’s also favorable during the more serious moments, such as Bannister’s flashbacks to his wife’s death, or the eerie look of homicidal young lovers dancing with a gun. The opening shot is pure Jackson, with the camera swooping through a window, past fluttering curtains, and though a hole in the attic floor to a screaming woman below.

Jackson also takes the opportunity to paddle a bit of fun at more stale ghost movies: the grand Gothic house, crazy mature lady, ghost in ’70s clothes, and Fox’s hilarious turn as a ghostbuster. Nothing horrific is sacred. “There ain’t nothing worse than a bunch of pissed-off brothers… that’s ALREADY Stupid!” Cyrus yells at one point.

Does it have a flaw? Yes — the opening scene doesn’t seem to beget great sense later on in the movie. But Jackson makes up for that with a surprisingly tight, coherent position, and a satisfying finale that makes more sense than most other dread movies do.

The cast is intellectual, whether it’s the twitchy, wild-eyed FBI agent, or the three unusual ghosts. Michael J. Fox does an worthy job as Frank, with the lawful combination of cockiness and pathos, while Alvarado is solid as the idealistic young doctor. But the scenes are reallystolen by Dee Wallace-Stone and freaky-eyed Jake Busey, as homicidal young lovers.

“Frighteners” might not accomplish you have in ghosts, but it will obtain you laugh, shiver, and maybe even shed a slide or two. Wildly humorous, strange, sinful, and sometimes really odd, this is Jackson’s splatter-gore at its best.

Just before doing “Lord of the Rings,” director Peter Jackson (who can be seen in a cameo as “Man with Piercings”) made an off-kilter horror/comedy movie called “The Frighteners,” the legend of the undead and the guy who makes a living off of them. Though “Frighteners” was barely in theaters at all, this cult flick is laughable, creepy, well-acted and wonderfully directed.

Frank Bannister (Michael J. Fox) has seen spirits and apparitions ever since the car break that killed his wife. Now he operates an amateur “ghostbusting” operation that is supposed to exorcise ghosts from people’s houses — the scrape is that the ghosts who haunt those houses are in league with him (Chi McBride as the opinioated afro-ed Cyrus, Jim Fyfe as the nerdy Stuart, and most of John Astin as what is left of The Mediate) .

Frank’s business certainly isn’t wound by the fact that for years after a serial killer’s murderous spree, people have died mysteriously of heart attacks. Then Frank starts seeing fiery numbers emblazoned on the foreheads of people who will die, including the husband of doctor Lucy Lynskey (Trini Alvarado) . As if trying to end a specter of death weren’t hard enough, crazed FBI agent Milton Dammers (Jeffrey Combs) believes that Frank is the one murdering people. But the nefarious specter is smooth killing — and Lucy is the next victim.

Peter Jackson once said that he has a “moronic” sense of humor, and it shows up in all its glory here — from bug spray dissolving a ghost’s face to a fragment of talking oily sludge to a drill sargeant ghost with submachine guns, this is unusual and absolutely hilarious. It’s the perfect blend of comedy and scare.

But he’s also suitable during the more serious moments, such as Bannister’s flashbacks to his wife’s death, or the eerie observe of homicidal young lovers dancing with a gun. The opening shot is pure Jackson, with the camera swooping through a window, past fluttering curtains, and though a hole in the attic floor to a screaming woman below.

Jackson also takes the opportunity to plod a bit of fun at more weak ghost movies: the mammoth Gothic house, crazy primitive lady, ghost in ’70s clothes, and Fox’s hilarious turn as a ghostbuster. Nothing horrific is sacred. “There ain’t nothing worse than a bunch of pissed-off brothers… that’s ALREADY Dreary!” Cyrus yells at one point.

Does it have a flaw? Yes — the opening scene doesn’t seem to beget powerful sense later on in the movie. But Jackson makes up for that with a surprisingly tight, coherent situation, and a satisfying finale that makes more sense than most other panic movies do.

The cast is intelligent, whether it’s the twitchy, wild-eyed FBI agent, or the three unusual ghosts. Michael J. Fox does an friendly job as Frank, with the honest combination of cockiness and pathos, while Alvarado is solid as the idealistic young doctor. But the scenes are reallystolen by Dee Wallace-Stone and freaky-eyed Jake Busey, as homicidal young lovers.

“Frighteners” might not execute you fill in ghosts, but it will fabricate you laugh, shiver, and maybe even shed a breeze or two. Wildly humorous, unique, cross, and sometimes really odd, this is Jackson’s splatter-gore at its best.
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