Plan 9.5

In which the remains of a beloved Hollywood horror icon will hopefully be interred in a place equally suited for peaceful rest and shameless tourism.


Early last week some friends of the late Maila Nurmi (better known as the original late-night TV horror host, Vampira), who died on January 10 at the age of 85, issued a release detailing plans to have the actress immortalized in the Hollywood Forever Cemetery. The group has established a MySpace page to solicit donations (they need to raise $8,000 – no word on where the running total sits).


Hollywood Forever is a morbid wonderland of celebrity memoriam nestled in vintage Hollywood, right next to the Paramount Pictures backlot (the close proximity of the two provided the setting and inspiration for Ray Bradbury’s novel A Graveyard for Lunatics). Part resting place, part theme park, part coffee shop, the relatively small cemetery is the final home to some of classic cinema’s biggest stars, including several horror notables like Peter Lorre Fay Wray, and as such draws many more visitors than the average graveyard. Local wanderers frequently haunt the place, some picnicking or sitting watch among the tombstones daily, and in October the gates are opened for outdoor screenings of classic horror movies. Originally known as Hollywood Memorial --, the park fell into disrepair over the latter half of the last century, but was purchased and restored by St. Louis-based Forever Cemeteries. The HBO documentary The Young and the Dead is a great chronicle of the refurbishment process.

If there's anyone in Hollyweird who truly belongs in such auspicious surroundings for all of eternity, it's Vampira. Help her legacy live by donating here.

Silent Night

An unexpected but fond farewell to Bob Clark, who died last night in an automobile accident with a drunk driver, and whose limited but highly respected and influential work in the horror genre endeared him to many and will likely one day put his name among that of Tod Browning, James Whale, and the like.

About three years ago I had the opportunity to interview Bob for Fright Media, the site I was writing for. At the time this was something of an honor, not only because I really enjoyed his horror films (Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things, Deathdream/Dead of Night, and, most noteworthy of all, the original Black Christmas -- one of the few movies that always seem capable of scaring me all these jaded years later), but also because interviews with Bob weren't very common. His was a name that everyone in the genre knew, but would always prompt an "Oh yeah" response, always an afterthought in a discussion about great horror directors.

As we talked, it became clear to me that Bob was not really much of a "horror fan," though he knew the genre and its signature films, as well as his place in it. He pointed to A Christmas Story as the most important film in his career, as it was the one that made him a "Hollywood director," as he put it. I was a little disheartened to hear that the man primarily responsible for what I've long considered to be some top-tier horror films looked to his "mainstream" work as the watermark for his success in film, but after all, John Carpenter's admitted he's only after the money, and we still continue to fawn over him. Besides, Clark's work remains just as effective for those who know what his motivations were as it does for those blissfully unaware.

At the time we spoke Bob was in the negotiation process of getting Black Christmas remade, and was writing the script for a remake of Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things. Neither one seemed like a good idea to me, and I've yet to see the James Wong-helmed Christmas redo, but I remember being satisfied just knowing that Clark was willing to come back to the genre, even if it was only for the potential money involved. Perhaps, I thought, the remakes would be successful and would encourage him to make new horror movies based on new ideas.

Perhaps the most tragic aspect of Bob's death, for horror fans, is that now we'll never know.

Goodnight, Bob.