It fascinates me, as an adult, to think about the movies I did or did not scrutinize when I was young. I was raised on so many low-budget movies that I did not even realize were low-budget at the time. There were much bigger movies that I would treat like the world’s most discerning critic because I thought they didn’t get the “rules” right. I’m glad for this, it’s probably what led me to an early love of independent horror studios like Full Moon. But JACK-O, in particular, is a movie I did not once question the quality of when I rented it as a child, but when I remember it now, I distinctly recall an adult turning to me and saying, “You’re ENJOYING this?” And, yes, I was. I still am.
I had two video stores in my small, down east Maine hometown. But there was kind of a third, a convenience store called Tom Cat where the locals would buy booze and smokes, which had a surprisingly large selection of videos with titles you just wouldn’t find at the actual video stores in town. Tom Cat stocked movies like THE DEADLY SPAWN, LEPRECHAUN, PUPPET MASTER 5, PUMPKINHEAD II, VAMPIRE JOURNALS, and, you better believe it, JACK-O.
JACK-O was one of those movies that I knew would be coming home with me on sight. A pumpkin-headed demon looming over a small town. I was captivated. Halloween has always been my favorite time of year, and I couldn’t help but imagine stories for every decoration, and that’s what Jack-O is and has always been to me, a cheap and satisfying Halloween decoration come to life. I was too young to notice that this movie was significantly cheaper than even any of the other direct-to-video films I had ever rented before. I didn’t care. I loved this movie so much, I wound up owning a “hand me down” tape of it from a friend’s grandmother that was unlabeled and it took me years to realize that was a bootleg. I even customized my action figure of the Spider-Man villain Jack O’ Lantern into probably the only Jack-O action figure that has ever existed.
Despite that childhood love, I did not revisit JACK-O until I was an adult and it was re-released on DVD. When I did, I immediately noticed two things: one, the movie was significantly lower-budget than I remembered. Two, every single thing in the film suddenly seemed SO familiar. That led me to what is still one of the most surreal discoveries of my entire life. I loved this movie when I rented it as a small child in Maine, more than most if any kids ever had. I had to be one of the only kids to ever have a mild obsession with it. And somehow, through sheer coincidence, I was now living in the town in Florida where the film was shot. That will never cease to amaze me.
The local pride aspects of it color every viewing now, I have to admit. But that’s a good thing. To get into the actual movie itself, JACK-O is a film that, from a glance, boasts a fairly impressive genre cast. It stars John Carradine, Brinke Stevens and Linnea Quigley. The catch is that Carradine had been dead for years at this point, and appears in repurposed footage, and they do their best to cut his dialogue to sound even remotely in context with the larger story. Brinke Stevens appears in a movie that our characters are watching on TV, using footage from an uncompleted project. Of the three, the only one who ACTUALLY stars in the movie is Linnea Quigley. She’s a supporting character, but at least she’s objectively in it, and for a decent amount of time. This is the kind of ride you’re in for with JACK-O.
The actual story elements are fairly strong, though. Many years ago, an evil warlock was hanged in the fictional town of Oakmoor Crossing and, as his last act of revenge, conjured a pumpkin headed demon to take revenge on the town and the man who killed him. Now, thanks to some good old fashioned teenage hooligans, the resting place has been disturbed and the demon has been resurrected, and it’s seeking revenge on the last living descendant of the man who killed him, a boy named Sean Kelly (who is frequently referred to by his full name). It’s got all the makings of a cozy Halloween horror tale, and it has a young adult feel to it, like GOOSEBUMPS but with teeth, considering the film boasts plenty of gore and nudity.
JACK-O can’t hide its budget, or the fact that many of the cast are not overly seasoned actors. “Rough around the edges” would be a modest description in some aspects, but I try to judge a movie on how well it works with what it has and Steve Latshaw puts in a Herculean effort with JACK-O. The film is at its best when it leans into its monster, and also when it taps into an offbeat sense of humor. There are a couple of conservative stereotypes, Fox News hounds on steroids, who are absolute highlights of the movie—one of whom gets dispatched in a deeply hilarious way.
The vibe is akin to a local news Halloween broadcast that you don’t want to end, something that can’t hide the fact that it’s using blood gags from the local drugstore, but you still catch two minutes of and it lets your imagination run wild. JACK-O is the movie your imagination would conjure using those tools.
I can’t not talk about the commentary, though, while I’m here. I am not the first person to point this out, but JACK-O has possibly the greatest commentary track ever recorded. It is a completely authentic discussion between producer Fred Olen Ray and director Steve Latshaw that is uncomfortable from minute one. It only escalates from there. Ray keeps poking and prodding at the low budget and lack of resources until he finally reaches the straw that breaks the camel’s back and mentions a review that called the movie a “shit pickle,” causing Latshaw to get up and storm out, leaving Ray to awkwardly continue the commentary by himself for several minutes until Latshaw returns.
That commentary is a masterclass in tension. You can go back and listen to it, and it’s like picking up on the clues in THE SIXTH SENSE, you pinpoint all of them moments that build toward that eventual blowup. Given how notorious that commentary has become, I’d like to think it’s something both parties can laugh about now.