Meta: In the silent era, nobody could hear anybody scream.

Today marks the second birthday of And Now the Screaming Starts!

As this shambling blogtastrophe heads into its terrible twos, I'd like to thank the regular readers who were with me pretty much from the start – Sassy, Spacejack, Cattleworks, and the lovely and talented Mermaid Heather – and the host of new readers who have joined us along the way. And, of course, we shan't forget a shout out to the folks of the League of Tana Tea Drinkers, who just this year decided to make me their token "Yeah-I've-Seen-All-Those-Saw-Movies" Guy.

As we did last year, we're going to celebrate the blogiversary by returning to the roots of cinematic horror and spending a week reviewing silent thrillers and chillers. That's right; I'm gonna call it "Son of the Silent Scream Series."

Starting this weekend, we'll cover a whole new set of sinister silents. This year we've got rampaging brontosaurs, psycho killers, beheadings, madness, nightmares, kinky sex hang-ups, cannibal cultists, haunted houses, and so much more! Please do stop by and join in the fun.

For those who missed the first series, you can follow the links below to last year's films:

Waxworks, 1924, by Paul Leni and Leo Birinski

Frankenstein, 1910, by Edison Films

The Bells, 1926, by James Young

The Eyes of the Mummy, 1918, by Ernst Lubitsch

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, 1920, by John Robertson

Häxan, 1922, by Benjamin Christensen

Stuff: Happy Birthday, Howie.

So, if he had actually made a dark deal with eldritch powers beyond the kin of mortals, H. P. Lovecraft would be 117 today.

In tribute, here's the complete episode of The Real Ghostbusters in which our boys in gray cross proton beams with Cthulhu.

Here's part 1: "Your precious book of spells will be quite safe here."



And here's part 2: "The most opportune place for the cult to perform the ceremony is the southern tip of Brooklyn: Coney Island, to be exact."