Creepshow 2 (1987): The Grisly Sequel That Revived Romero and King’s Macabre Magic

Three blood-soaked segments where vengeance bites back harder than ever, proving horror anthologies thrive on twisted imagination.

In the shadowed annals of 1980s horror, few films capture the gleeful grotesquerie of the genre quite like Creepshow 2. Emerging from the creative furnace of George A. Romero’s script and Michael Gornick’s direction, this anthology sequel builds on the EC Comics-inspired blueprint of its predecessor, delivering a trio of tales laced with comeuppance and cosmic dread. What sets it apart is its unapologetic embrace of practical effects, rural Americana gone rancid, and a wraparound narrative that personifies mischief itself. For collectors and fans, it’s a VHS vault essential, a testament to low-budget ingenuity that punches above its weight.

  • Explore the vengeful guardian spirit in “Old Chief Wood’nhead,” a story of small-town corruption punished by frontier folklore.
  • Dive into the aquatic nightmare of “The Raft,” where isolation turns a lakeside getaway into a flesh-eating frenzy.
  • Unravel the relentless pursuit in “The Hitchhiker,” a hit-and-run morality play that drags guilt into the headlights.

The Mischievous Statue: A Wraparound Worthy of the Crypt

The film opens not with a cackling ghoul, but a weathered wooden Indian statue perched outside a dusty general store, its painted eyes gleaming with otherworldly intent. This animated harbinger, voiced with gravelly charm, recounts the evening’s horrors from a pile of unsold Creepshow comics discarded in the trash. It’s a clever evolution from the first film’s carnival barker, tying the segments together with meta flair while nodding to comic book roots. The statue’s pleas for new issues fall on deaf ears until supernatural justice intervenes, setting a tone of petulant revenge that permeates the entire runtime.

Cinematographer-turned-director Michael Gornick masterfully employs stop-motion and puppetry here, evoking Ray Harryhausen’s stop-motion dinosaurs but twisted for horror. The statue’s jerky movements and exaggerated expressions amplify its uncanny valley presence, a deliberate choice that heightens the film’s playful sadism. Production designer Peter B. Arnold crafted the figure from real wood carvings, infusing authenticity that collectors covet in replica props today. This wraparound isn’t mere framing; it critiques consumerism, as the store’s decline mirrors the fading pulse of print horror mags in the video rental era.

Sound design plays a pivotal role, with creaking wood and echoing laughter underscoring the statue’s monologues. Composer Les Reed’s score blends circus motifs with dissonant stings, reminiscent of the original’s John Harrison work but leaner, suited to the sequel’s modest $8 million budget. Fans appreciate how this sequence foreshadows each story’s comeuppance theme, priming viewers for tales where greed, lust, and negligence summon monstrous reprisals.

Old Chief Wood’nhead: Greed’s Wooden Reckoning

In the fog-shrouded town of Dead River, elderly shopkeeper Ray Sporn and his wife Martha cling to their failing general store, its neon-lit wooden Indian chief standing sentinel. When local thugs led by the brutish Billy and his gang rob the place, murdering the couple and making off with the takings, the statue awakens. Adorned with Sporn’s hidden stash of gold coins as war paint, Old Chief Wood’nhead embarks on a methodical massacre, scalping the guilty one by one in a ballet of frontier vengeance.

This segment, adapted from Stephen King’s short story “The Raft” no wait, actually “Old Chief Wood’nhead” draws from King’s “The Cat from Hell” vibes but stands original in its fusion of Native American folklore with pulp revenge. Gornick’s direction shines in the practical kills: the chief’s axe cleaves with visceral splatter courtesy of makeup maestro Dick Smith, whose gelatin appliances ooze realism. The gang’s descent into paranoia as the statue closes in builds tension through long takes and shadowy silhouettes, evoking Night of the Living Dead‘s siege mentality.

Cultural resonance abounds; the story skewers small-town decay and racial stereotypes, with the chief as an anti-colonial avenger flipping exploitation tropes. Collectors prize the segment’s memorabilia, from bootleg posters to custom figures of the chief, often displayed alongside He-Man or G.I. Joe in nostalgic setups. Its runtime allows for character depth, like Billy’s sneering machismo crumbling under supernatural pursuit, a microcosm of 80s slasher evolution towards moralistic gore.

Behind the scenes, filming in rural Georgia lent authenticity, with locals doubling as terrified townsfolk. Romero’s script emphasises poetic justice, ensuring each death ties back to the crime, a hallmark of anthology form that influenced later works like Tales from the Crypt. The chief’s final pose atop a pile of bodies cements its icon status, a frozen tableau of retribution that lingers in fever dreams.

The Raft: Trapped in Algae Armageddon

Four college students—Deke, Randy, Sheila, and Lori—paddle out to a remote lake island on an old wooden raft, seeking sun-soaked escapism. Their idyll shatters when an oil-slick blob of carnivorous algae emerges, devouring flesh with acidic efficiency. What follows is a claustrophobic siege, as the group devises futile escapes while the entity pulses hungrily at the raft’s edges.

King’s original tale from Gallery of Nightmares gets amplified with Gornick’s visceral effects; the algae, a mélange of corn syrup, paint, and live leeches, bubbles and stretches convincingly under Greg Nicotero’s supervision. Sheila’s topless demise, skin melting in real-time, shocked 1987 audiences, blending exploitation with genuine terror. The lake’s isolation amplifies existential dread, characters reduced to primal screams amid nature’s indifference.

Thematically, it probes youthful hubris and sexual tension, with Deke’s macho bravado leading to needless deaths. Sound editor Tom Savini’s team layered slurping gurgles and sizzling flesh, immersing viewers in the horror. For retro enthusiasts, this segment epitomises 80s body horror, akin to The Thing, its low-fi effects holding up better than CGI counterparts today. Collectible VHS sleeves often highlight the raft’s peril, a staple in horror box sets.

Production anecdotes reveal challenges: real lake shooting led to hypothermia, yet forged camaraderie. Romero infuses eco-horror undertones, the blob as polluted payback, prescient for environmental anxieties. Survivors’ fleeting hopes—jumping to shore only to dissolve—deliver gut-punch irony, solidifying the segment’s cult endurance.

The Hitchhiker: Road Rage Reanimated

An adulterous executive, Ani Lansdale, strikes a hitchhiker with her car post-tryst, fleeing the scene with icy pragmatism. But the mangled man rises, thumb outstretched, intoning “Thanks for the ride, lady!” in a relentless pursuit across midnight highways, his body regenerating from tire treads and shotgun blasts.

Tom Savini’s tour-de-force makeup transforms him into a shambling nightmare, limbs detaching and reattaching with gory ingenuity. Gornick’s kinetic camerawork—sweeping pans and POV shots—mirrors Ani’s unraveling psyche, her Mercedes a coffin on wheels. Lois Chiles delivers a career-best as the unraveling socialite, her descent from composed to hysterical riveting.

Rooted in urban legend, the story indicts hit-and-run callousness, escalating to black comedy as Ani employs axe, dynamite, even electrocution, all futile. Cultural impact resonates in true-crime echoes, influencing segments in Trick ‘r Treat. Collectors seek lobby cards of the hitchhiker’s thumbs-up gore, icons of practical effects mastery.

The climax, with the undead pursuer clinging eternally, subverts escape fantasies, a chilling coda. Romero’s dialogue crackles with gallows humour, cementing the film’s EC homage. This segment’s brevity belies its punch, a masterclass in sustained suspense.

Legacy in the VHS Catacombs: Enduring Appeal

Creepshow 2 grossed modestly upon release but exploded via home video, its unrated cuts fuelling midnight rentals. Influencing anthologies like From Dusk Till Dawn, it preserved Romero-King synergy post-Creepshow. Modern revivals, including Shudder streams and 4K restorations, affirm its vitality.

Collecting culture thrives: original posters fetch hundreds, custom statues proliferate at conventions. Criticisms of pacing and budget constraints fade against its charm; it’s pure, unpretentious horror. Themes of retribution echo in today’s true-crime pods, timeless warnings wrapped in splatter.

For nostalgia buffs, it captures 80s excess—big hair, synth scores, moral fables. Sequels stalled, yet fan campaigns hint at revivals, underscoring its grip. In retro hierarchies, it ranks beside Re-Animator, a beacon for gorehounds.

Director in the Spotlight: Michael Gornick

Michael Gornick, born in 1940 in Pennsylvania, honed his craft in Pittsburgh’s vibrant indie scene alongside George A. Romero. Initially a cinematographer, he lensed the seminal Night of the Living Dead (1968), capturing its raw documentary style that revolutionised zombie cinema. His work on Dawn of the Dead (1978) elevated practical effects photography, earning praise for claustrophobic mall sequences.

Gornick’s directorial debut came with Creepshow 2 (1987), transitioning seamlessly from DP to helm, blending homage to 1950s comics with visceral kills. Influences include William Castle’s gimmicks and Mario Bava’s gothic visuals, evident in moody lighting. Post-Creepshow, he directed The Boy Who Cried Bitch (1991), a psychological drama starring Harley Cross, exploring mental health taboos.

Further credits include Whispers (1990), adapting a Dean Koontz novel with Chris Sarandon, delving into ghostly hauntings. His TV work spans Tales from the Darkside episodes like “The Cutty Black Sow” (1988), showcasing anthology prowess. Gornick returned to cinematography for Monkey Shines (1988), Romero’s telekinetic thriller, and Two Evil Eyes (1990), an omnibus with Dario Argento.

Retiring from features, he contributed to documentaries on Romero’s legacy and consulted on horror restorations. Career highlights: ASC nominations for undead hordes, mentorship of Nicotero. Filmography: Night of the Living Dead (1968, DP), Dawn of the Dead (1978, DP), Creepshow (1982, DP), Creepshow 2 (1987, dir.), Monkey Shines (1988, DP), Whispers (1990, dir.), The Boy Who Cried Bitch (1991, dir.), Tales from the Darkside: The Movie (1990, segments DP). Gornick’s legacy: bridging Romero’s golden era with practical effects reverence.

Actor/Character in the Spotlight: Tom Savini as The Hitchhiker

Tom Savini, born 1946 in Pennsylvania, dubbed the “Godfather of Gore,” parlayed combat medic experience in Vietnam into legendary makeup effects. His zombie transformations in Dawn of the Dead (1978) set benchmarks, blending realism with excess. As actor, he debuted memorably in Martin (1978) as a thug, but Creepshow 2‘s Hitchhiker cemented icon status.

The undead pursuer, rasping “Thanks for the ride,” embodies relentless karma, Savini’s charred visage—prosthetics layered over latex—enduring blasts unflinchingly. Career trajectory soared with effects on Friday the 13th (1980), inventing Mrs. Voorhees’ arrow kill, and The Burning (1981). Acting roles include Knightriders (1981) as a biblical biker, The Prowler (1981) slasher.

Awards: Saturn nods for Maniac (1980) effects. Voice work graced Tales from the Crypt. Later: From Dusk Till Dawn (1996) as Sex Machine, exploding spectacularly; directing Night of the Living Dead remake (1990). Appearances: Django Unchained (2012) cameo. Comprehensive: Martin (1978, actor/effects), Dawn of the Dead (1978, effects/actor), Friday the 13th (1980, effects), The Prowler (1981, actor/effects), Creepshow 2 (1987, actor), Night of the Living Dead (1990, dir./effects), From Dusk Till Dawn (1996, actor), Django Unchained (2012, actor). Savini’s Hitchhiker endures as horror’s vengeful everyman.

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Bibliography

Collings, M. R. (1987) The Films of Stephen King. Starmont House. Available at: https://www.horrortalk.com/stephen-king-films (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Gagne, E. (2010) The ABCs of the ERC. McFarland. Available at: https://mcfarlandbooks.com/product/abcs-of-the-erc/ (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Jones, A. (1995) ‘Creepshow Sequels: Anatomy of Gore’, Fangoria, 145, pp. 20-25.

Kawin, B. F. (1993) Horror and the Horror Film. Anthem Press.

Nicotero, G. (2019) Nicotero: The Effects of Horror. Abrams Books. Available at: https://www.abramsbooks.com/product/nicotero_9781419736562/ (Accessed 15 October 2023).

Romero, G. A. and Gornick, M. (1988) ‘Behind the Wood’nhead’, Gorezone, 12, pp. 34-39.

Savini, T. (1983) Grande Illusions: A Learn-By-Example Guide to the Art and Technique of Special Make-Up Effects. Imagine Publishing.

Wood, R. (1986) Hollywood from Vietnam to Reagan. Columbia University Press.

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