Film Reviews

You Betti? You Bet! A SPECIAL COP IN ACTION Reviewed.

 

c9b84ae9a4ba37ffc6e5282636efb9944d0209a1.jpg

A Special Cop In Action aka Italia A Mano Armata  (Italy, 1976). Directed by “Franco Martino” (= Marino Girolami).

Even by the generally bleak standards of Italy’s “Years Of Lead”, Turin is having a particularly bad day when this one kicks off. It’s not enough that bank robbers get away scot free after killing a security guard, but adding insult to injury, a schoolbus load of kids is taken hostage by a bunch of low-lives that fashion forgot. “It’s as though the criminal classes are trying to set a new record!” But hey, do you honestly think for one minute that Inspector Betti (Maurizio Merli) is going to let this kind of shit go unchallenged? “I’m bad tempered all right…” admits the meanest maverick moustache in the Italian police force: “… with a certain type of criminal, I lose my self control!”

s3-600x270.jpg

Nobody does “righteously pissed off” like Maurizio Merli… just watch how his bobbing adam’s apple belies his steely, inscrutable eyes as Luisa ( the lovely Mirella D’Angelo in only her second screen appearance) agonises over her kidnapped kid brother. Having attempted to reassure the schoolkids’ nearest and dearest, Betti dons a Saturday Night Fever type white suit, gathers his men and follows the kidnapping case to Milan, teaming up with old colleague Arpino (Raymond Pellegrin), who’s looking forward to his imminent retirement so that he can spend more time fishing, playing with his grandkids, etc (immediately shortening his odds on making it to the end of the picture).

italia_a_mano_armata_film.jpg

The kids are hidden in a disused mill but lead kidnapper Mancuso (Sergio Fiorentini) has a strange idea of laying low, i.e. going out and attempting to rape a passing cyclist. When she points the cops in his direction they manage to rescue the kids… most of them, anyway. Luisa’s kid brother does not survive the ordeal so she has a bit of a hissy fit at Betti then agrees to go out with him. As she would. They spend a bit of quality time together and Betti tells her that he hates criminals because one of them killed his dad, also a cop. Yeah, that would do it…

1a40bebd559c30a9b1bfefaa56011e96.jpg

As the investigation of the bank robbery plods on, things get a bit episodic. There are a few fair-to-average car chases (“I think you should take up motor racing…” “I get enough kicks as it is!”) and Betti demonstrates his disregard for the rule book by slapping some crims around. Eventually undercover agent Fabbri (Massimo Vanni) clues Betti in that the current crime wave is attributable to Albertelli (John Saxon), a mobster upon whom no charge can be made to stick but who still resides, in Bettie’s articulate formulation, “at the top of my shit list”. For his trouble, Fabbri’s night out disco dancing is rudely interrupted when he gets lashed to the bumper of a car and driven around till he’s dead.

Merli-cattura.jpg

Everybody’s talking about Albertelli but Saxon spends a minimal amount of time actually on screen, no doubt saving the production a fistful of Lire. When he does turn up though, he’s wearing an impressive pair of swinging loon pants. He contrives to frame Merli for an extrajudicial killing and our man is soon banged up in a slammer full of dodgy geezers just itching to settle some old scores against him. Needless to say, anyone foolish enough to try anything gets their criminal ass conclusively kicked. Then the judges arbitrarily agree to quash Betti’s sentence and the action relocates again to Genoa for the climactic confrontation. Albertelli gets his, Betti gets Luisa but a Get Cartereque shock ending ensures that this is the final entry in the Inspector Betti trilogy (begun by Girolami’s Violent Rome, 1975 and continued in Umberto Lenzi’s Violent Naples, 1976)… Merli would  be back as identikit irascible Inspectors Tanzi, Murri et al. In some markets those guys were rechristened “Belli” to cash in on the popularity of Betti’s “shoot first, worry about the ethics of it later” credo. Really, there was no belli end to the bloody things…

tumblr_lryb3kZABv1qhai07o1_400.gif

Marino Girolami (best known for directing Zombi Holocaust and being Enzo Castellari’s Dad) kicked in a  few contributions to the Poliziotteschi genre (as to so many others). In the same year as this one he made Rome: The Other Side Of Violence , produced with the involvement of 20th Century Fox. He’s not in the same league as Lenzi, Massi, Damiano or indeed his own son when it comes to this stuff but A Special Cop In Action is mid-cycle, run-of-the-mill, reasonably entertaining Crime Slime that will occupy an hour and a half of your Covid quarantine pleasantly enough and with Franco Micalizzi composing /  Alexander Blonksteiner conducting the OST, you know your ears are going to be in for a treat while you check out Merli’s handsome mug running the gamut of emotional expressions from angry A to brusque B.

MV5BNWEzMDM1NzAtNjM2OS00NjdjLWE3YjctZDFkYzZiZjFjZWQ1XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTYxNjkxOQ@@._V1_.jpg

Categories: Film Reviews | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

Dog Eat Dog… Social Mobility / Social Cleansing In PARASITE & BACURAU.

20190823232627178457a.jpg

Parasite  (South Korea, 2019) Directed by Bong Joon Ho.

Bacurau (Brazil / France, 2019) Juliano Dornelles and Kleber Mendonça Filho.

Spoiler Alert. Be alert for spoilers. You’re welcome.

I imagine many of our readers will have seen (and probably loved) Bong Joon Ho’s Parasite… and it’s not often that I get to say that, with any degree of confidence, about an Academy Award winning film. If you did, then allow me to recommend, for your serious consideration, Juliano Dornelles and Kleber Mendonça Filho’s Bacurau (2019), which handles the same theme of struggling to get by on the sharp end of globalising neo-liberalism in a similarly devastating but contrastingly balls-to-the-wall style and which I recently caught due to the good offices of those splendid folks at Nottingham’s ever-wonderful Mayhem Festival.

1-V5MaAy7bRdoQbxDz2ZFAPA.jpeg

Bong’s brilliant social satire jarringly juxtaposes two cliché takes on life in South Korea… the dispossessed dog eaters and the shiny happy people from the K-Pop videos (a third, that of staring down the barrel of nuclear annihilation, is briefly alluded to in the unlikely event that the viewer starts feeling too comfortable). Cracking performances from all concerned (what a missed opportunity, not to have nominated any of the cast for their own Oscars) and Bong’s assured direction and (with Jin Won Han) skilful screen-writing gloss over a couple of glaring plot improbabilities in the service of a beautiful narrative edifice which keeps us guessing as it shifts seamlessly back and forth between social comment, comedy, suspense, high farce, pathos, romance, eroticism and all-out Horror. Parasite also takes its time introducing us to and stoking our sympathy for the characters, ensuring that it really registers with us when the shit finally does hit that fan. Asian filmmakers have always seemed to grasp this principle more readily than their Anglo counterparts (I’m still recovering from what happened to that palpably nice guy in Takashi Miike’s Audition, 1999…)

MV5BYjc1N2M1YjMtYzBiNi00NGFiLThkN2QtY2EwZGU5MDRkODAzXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTkzODUwNzk@._V1_UY1200_CR90,0,630,1200_AL_.jpg

Likewise, Bacurau takes its own sweet time familiaring us with the the odd conventions and even odder characters of its eponymous, isolated Brazilian village community. Initially disorientated, we come to feel at home with these incorrigible salts of the Earth, determinedly individualistic but inextricably bound by custom and community. Slimy mayoral candidate Tony Jr (Thardelly Lima) can’t buy their votes with his shoddy largesse or intimidate them by messing with their water supply… so what’s a corrupt politician to do? Simps. He deploys sophisticated satellite technolgy to wipe Bacurau off the face of the map before selling it and its inhabitants to insane white hunters who move in to do the job for real.

IMG_5026.JPG

In contrast to the constant genre switch-hitting of Parasite, this is a prolonged, intense riff on Richard Connell’s oft-filmed yarn Hounds Of Zaroff / The Most Dangerous Game, factoring in a splash of Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai (1954) when Pacote (Thomas Aquino) reconnects with and seeks the protection of his exiled gang banger mates, led by the fearsome Lunga (played by Silvero Pereira as a man on a dual mission to humble the aggressors and single-handedly drag the mullet back into fashion).

ECwlhr3XYAAJEfR.jpgkev0uU1yvtkqHmVM-PASPY9-KVJarJ0FMuf8FUbkCWoTzmxp0qbn80F4IHWdKrpJGN9NgXeJwSQxo4YCvUop-tXHRR3PVjsRX6IS66zr9nV21W-1GmG2LKU14Iq8Awr_Zg.jpg

You can bet your bottom sheet of bog roll that Pasolini (the prophet of this whole consumer fascist groove thang), were he still alive, would want to have been cast in this epic of unalienated, authentic folk culture vs elitist savagery (he was great in Carlo Lizzani’s Kill And Pray, 1967). As it stands, the film benefits greatly from the charismatic contributions of Sonia Braga (on the side of the angels) and as Michael, leader of the killers, Udo Kier (now on the cusp of his eighth decade appearing in out there movies and still giving great face).

012753_1312x738_637172307547838457.jpg

The hunters profess varying motivations… there’s the American prison guard who thinks he’s stamping out criminality, the white supremacist couple who think they’re defusing a demographic time-bomb, then there are unabashed thrill killers, like the guy who admits that he’s only come for the body count and Julia (Julia Marie Peterson) who just wants to shoot anything that moves (and looks insanely sexy while doing so).

maxresdefault.jpg

Michael’s motivation is harder to figure and he’s ultimately buried beneath the weight of his own contradictions, not to mention the healing soil of Bacurau. By definition, it is suggested, the Sadean operating principle of “sworn to fun, loyal to none” cannot prevail against the inderdependant human values of community, though Michael sounds a stark warning just before he is interred forever in his bunker… “This is only the beginning!”

J0sqESKpTp4qOp6Y27sIc-qSPBvcF94TuCXnh30nkw-ME6shz2szJkEE97xm3g5AF1MHEuZkqk8FO7PPOFvScdDqxErGk0TlF71nPX3lWWVYeHanMRUAu-KebMD97Xi6k3dBVxYKAE_ATPTNI7TugkfJ.jpg

The gap between the two philosophies is so pronounced that the drone the hunters use to locate their victims and keep score (reducing the common people to disposable cyber sprites in some perverse video game) might as well be a flying saucer – which is exactly what it looks like – and in this particular clash of cultures, it’s not too hard for the viewer to pick sides. Michael and co are so outright atrocious that we have no qualms whatsoever cheering the villagers on as they righteously extract their brutal communal justice (Lunga’s line: “Did I go too far?” brought the house down when I saw the film). Time to check our own levels of bloodlust. Maybe if you dig deep enough, we’re not that far removed from Michael and co…

Bacurau-13-1-1600x900-c-default.jpg

Categories: Film Reviews | Leave a comment

The Turkish Delight Of Mrs Wardh… THIRSTY FOR LOVE, SEX AND MURDER Reviewed.

seksvecinayet1.jpg

Thirsty For Love, Sex And Murder (“Aska Susayanlar: Seks Ve Cinayet”) (Turkey, 1972) Directed by Mehmet Aslan.

Kebab shop counterfeits of the likes of Spiderman, The Exorcist and Star Trek (“Mr Spak” indeed!) have earned the Turkish film industry mucho kitsch culture collateral and its interaction with its Italian counterpart (fascinatingly documented in Pete Tombs’ indispensable Mondo Macabro tome) has born delirious fruit. I’d always accepted Antonio Margheriti’s Yor – Hunter From The Future (1983) as the bench mark of this particular craziness until, that is, the recent buzz on antisocial media which alerted me to the existence of … (brace yourselves)… a Turkish remake of Sergio Martino’s The Strange Vice Of Mrs Wardh (1971). No, really!

71qUVDbGLuL._RI_.jpg

Apparently Martino’s film did get a Turkish release (premiering on 23/11/71 as “Yılan Ruhlu Kadın), obviously doing sufficiently blockbusting business on The Bosphorus to convince somebody that a quickie copycat was in order the following year… and it’s a very close copy, or at least a serious stab at one. Certain scenes play out shot-for-shot in comparison to Martino’s original and the principals have clearly been cast with half an eye on how much they resemble its stars. It has to be said that Ivan Rassimov was singularly ill served in this regard, his Turkish equivalent looking more like Lee Van Cleef in the aftermath of a particularly heavy night on the tiles. Meral Zeran (below) is handed the thankless task of replacing Edwige Fenech and the script of this one dispenses with the endless shower scenes that adorned TSVOMW, along with much expositional material.

Meral Zeren.jpg

Various running times have been claimed for Thirsty For Love, Sex And Murder but each of its two appearances on Youtube clock in just short of forty minutes. I don’t know if any footage has been excised (there’s a Sunset Beach-style voice over at one point which might be there to cover such excisions, but my Turkish is rather rusty so who knows?) or whether Turkish cinema goers in the ’70s were content to consume films of such brevity (maybe as a support to the main feature?) One of the versions on Youtube “boasts” a grab-bag soundtrack of themes from miscellaneous gialli, some of them original and some (notably a weedy attempt at invoking Nora Orlandi’s unforgettable “sacramental masochism” theme from TSVOMW) which could have been concocted by the people who used to put together those “Hot Hits” albums for Woolworths. Perhaps the soundtrack copyrights, at least, were contested because the other version I found substituted intolerable synthesiser farting for all of this.

thirsty-for-love-sex-and-murder-turkish-dvd-cover.jpg

Director Aslan generally makes a creditable job of aping Martino’s shots and copping the giallo’s visual style but does hit the occasional bum note, e.g. the really odd bit in which Zeran is distracted by headlights in a car park, which seems to go on for about four hours. It doesn’t exactly hurt that everybody’s decked out in groovy early ’70s threads and there’s a totally wild party scene in which everybody’s dancing fit to bust a blood vessel and the camera keeps sneaking up the girls’ mini- skirts in the TOTP-patented fashion. The denouement departs somewhat from the original template, incorporating a shoot out / punch up with added acrobatics and Zeran pitching in with a pitchfork. That’s the way to do it, Sergio…

Aşka-Susayanlar1972_1136654978_n.jpg

In conclusion, I’d just like to express my disappointment that Turkish exploitation maven Kunt Tulgar had absolutely nothing to do with this picture. Just think of the humorous mileage I could have extracted from that name. I mean, come on… “Tulgar” rhymes with “Vulgar”!

*******************************************************

NOW… a chance for you to put your film buffery to the test, avids. Can you correctly identify which of the following images comes from The Strange Vice Of Mrs Wardh and which from Thirsty For Love, Sex And Murder? Send your answers, written on a ten pound note, to That Freudstein House, Oak Mansion, Dunwich, New England, blah, blah, blah to stand a chance of winning absolutely  sweet FA. Are we good to you or what?

the-strange-vice-of-mrs-wardh.jpegturkishhorror.jpgSHAM030-PG01.jpgvlcsnap-2012-05-19-14h08m53s122.jpgSHAM030-PG04.jpgThirstyForLove1-1-520x400.jpg

george-hilton-edwige-fenech-wardh.jpg

(Bit of a Clue in this one…)

aska-susayanlar-seks-ve-cinayet-jawa-typ-354_QLdXr2K-crop-c0-5__0-5-700x394-70.jpg

Categories: Film Reviews | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

Close Encounters Of The Lethal Kind… BLOOD AND FLESH: THE REEL LIFE AND GHASTLY DEATH OF AL ADAMSON Reviewed.

giphy.gif

“We never set out to make a bad film…” Al Adamson, 1929-1995.

Blood & Flesh: The Reel Life & Ghastly Death Of Al Adamson (USA, 2019). Directed by David Gregory.

The Severin gang have been making film documentaries since Texas Chain Saw Massacre: The Shocking Truth in 2000 and will have clocked up well over 200 of them by the end of their second decade. You’d think they’d be getting good at it by now… and you’d be right. Widely acknowledged as the finest Sev offering yet, this feature length effort has also been touted as the Al Adamson documentary for people that don’t like Al Adamson movies”. Which only begs the question: “What kind of humourless git wouldn’t like an Al Adamson movie?!?”

DvsF+1.jpg

“What other director worked with Colonel Sanders, Charles Manson, bikers… and porn people?” asks Michael “Psychotronic” Weldon in the course of this loving tribute to the late, great Al. He neglected to mention Al’s DPs Vilmos Zsigmond (who took the Oscar for Close Encounters in 1977), László Kovács (who never lifted one but shot Easy Rider, Five Easy Pieces and Ghostbusters) and Gary Graver (below, right, with Al and Angelo Rossitto) who at one point was working simultaneosly for Adamson and Orson Welles and allegedly later handled the second unit work on Raiders Of The Lost Ark (1981).

ADAMSON_ROSSITO_GRAVER.jpg

“You could be sure there were gonna be midgets, lots of breasts, blood and gore, all sorts of fun people and strange things going on”, attests actor / stuntman Gary Kent and if that hasn’t piqued your interest, you’re probably reading the wrong blog. The sheer craziness of Adamson’s films, which include ersatz Spaghetti Westerns, faux Filipino Horrors, bogus Blacksploitation epics, brawling bikers, maniacal monster mash-ups, sexy stewardesses and UFO exposés (all delivered in accordance with Al’s keynote philosophy: “We’re not aiming for academy awards when we shoot pictures, we’re aiming to entertain the audience”), was only matched and ultimately eclipsed by the bizzare facts of the director’s life (and desperately sad death), all told here via archive interviews with the man himself, police footage, film clips, some seriously slick, smart ass graphics and the testimonials of his surviving closest collaborators, family members, friends and fans.

BLOOD-_-FLESH-key-art-web-724x1024.jpg

Al’s father Victor was a for real Antipodean cowboy who made an Ozzie Western (Stockman Joe) in 1910 before emigrating to the States and continuing to ply his trade as actor, director and producer under his favoured “Denver Dixon” alias. He turned down an approach from Universal to pursue a true auteurist path, even handling the distribution of his own pictures. It is said that Al Adamson was conceived during the shooting of one such, The Old Oregon Trail.  Al didn’t want to be a cowboy. Or a director. He wanted to be a song and dance man. When his two left feet put paid to that, “Denver” financed and directed Al’s first starring vehicle Halfway To Hell, only for Adamson Jr to kick him of the picture and complete it himself. It would seem that these two had a bit of a Brian / Murray Wilson relationship going on.

Half Way.jpg

After Halfway To Hell registered zero interest at the box office, Al was was running a night club in the San Fernando valley and managing singer Tacey Robbins, one of the many muses who motivated most of his career moves. Encouraged by Sam Sherman, ultimately his partner in Independent-International Pictures (“They were like the dream team of tits and terror movie” offers one associate), Al gave it another shot with heist saga Echoes Of Terror. When that one tanked too, Al recut it with go-go dancing footage to come up with Psycho A Go-Go which, in its turn, tanked. Another bunch of radical reshoots ensued and – as Blood Of Ghastly Horror  – the picture enjoyed a modicum of success in 1967.

BOGH.jpgtumblr_m3zgijUdEa1r4ro7yo1_400.jpg

The convoluted evolution of this picture holds many clues to the Adamson method, e.g. the casting of women with which he was romantically involved or with whom he was at least infatuated (Regina Carrol, above right, his greatest muse and first wife enters the Adamsonian universe at this time)… the constant recutting and / or remarketing of films that audiences had (at least partly) seen before… and the participation of such Hollywood has beens (John Carradine, Lon Chaney Jr, J. Carrol Naish, Broderick Crawford… he even briefly resuscitated the career of the remaining Ritz Brothers) and misfits (Russ Tamblyn, interviewed herein) which owed at least as much to Al’s cheapness as any nostalgia for or loyalty to the stars of some notional cinematic Golden Age. His boast that “we put more on the screen per amount of money spent than any body else did” was vindicated via such stunts as giving Colonel Sanders a walk on part and prominent product placement in the 1970 biker flick Hell’s Bloody Devils, in return for which the cast and crew ate KFC for every meal during its shoot (maybe Al transferred his catering budget to the OST department, as this one was scored by Nelson Riddle, no less!) It would be the extension of this cheap attitude towards his domestic help that would prove to be Adamson’s undoing…

Blood-and-Flesh-Banner.jpg

After a run of immortal classics including Blood Of Dracula’s Castle, Satan’s Sadists and Five Bloody Graves (all 1969), Horror Of The Blood Monsters (1970), Dracula Vs. Frankenstein (“Zandor Vorkov” aka Roger Engel, above with Al, who took a brief sabbatical from stockbroking to become the silver screen’s most panned Count Dracula, has his say here), Brain Of Blood and The Female Bunch (all 1971), Angels’ Wild Women (1972), The Naughty Stewardesses (1974) and Black Samurai (1976) , to name but a few, Al’s career prospects (in common with those of his indie auteur contemporaries) were seriously compromised when the major studios started muscling in on traditional drive in / grind house turf (Spielberg’s Jaws, 1975, being an obvious milestone in this regard). Carnival Magic (1981) was an ill advised crack at family entertainment but the biggest blow to Adamson was the death of his wife Regina towards the end of 1992. He turned his attention to various other business ventures, travelling the globe and accumulating property until two things revived his love of film-making, namely a relationship with (and subsequent marriage to) aspiring actress Stevee Ashlock and the flowering of an interest in UFOs and associated conspiracy theories.

MV5BNmVlYjE1YWYtNDA0MS00YzQ5LTgyYzItMjZiYmM1NTI0NDIwXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTEwODg2MDY@._V1_SY999_CR0,0,706,999_AL_.jpg

Ashlock (interviewed here and proving to be quite the kooky character) talks about meetings with extra terrestrials, but Al’s fortunes were about to take a depressingly Earthbound turn. Discovering that contractor Fred Fulford was stealing from him while renovating his ranch retreat in Indio, California, Al decided (against Stevee’s advice) to let him work off the debt. Alerted by the director’s subsequent disappearance and the suspicions of his housekeeper Lupe Garcia, police excavated the foundations of a disused jacuzzi room and discovered human remains. Fulford was subsequently convicted of the murder of Al Adamson, though Ashlock and Sherman hint at some “Men In Black” type motivation for the director’s murder. Sherman wonders if Fulford could have been dumb enough to commit such an obviously discoverable crime but as one of the cops who worked the case tells David Gregory: “If  people who  commit crimes were smart, we’d have a hard time catching them” and the very real possibility exists that Fulford was just a very untalented Mr Ripley type.

910hG2FJPyL._SL1500_ copy.jpgIt’s the switch into true crime reportage during its final third that lifts BAF: TRLAGDOFAA a notch or two above even the standard level of Sev excellence. I’m wondering if some sympathetic director (Tim Burton springs to mind, for obvious reasons) might feel inspired by it to mount an Al Adamson biopic. Before that, one imagines we’ll see a bunch of the films celebrated here coming out on the Severin label. Ready when you are, boys.

70800301_10158801281509115_4258486294759342080_n.jpgR-6962385-1430498380-8855.jpeg.jpgdracula-vs-frankenstein-from-left-everett.jpg

Categories: Film Reviews | Tags: , | Leave a comment

The Very Essence Of MAYHEM… 2019 Festival Report.

cropped-528932-copy.jpg

Oh sweet mystery of Mayhem… how does the grooviest Horror Film Fest in Heaven, Hell or Hockley manage to outdo itself, year after year? Never formulaic, it must nevertheless be compiled with some sort of formula in mind. So what’s the secret? Well, I’m just back from four mind boggling, bum numbing (less so now that plush new seats – not to mention a state of the art 7.1 sound system – have been installed in Theatre 1 of Nottingham’s Broadway Cinema) days of Mayhem 2019 (10-13th October) and I was taking notes. Pay attention now, ‘coz here’s what I’ve managed to divine about the method in Mayhem’s madness…

Bullets-of-justice.jpg

Some Horror Film Festivals are just more equal than others…

1) The “lure ’em in and settle ’em down with a Horror Comedy” film. Mike Ahern & Enda Loughman’s Extra Ordinary (2019) stars likeable stand up Maeve Higgins as Rose Dooley, a driving instructor in a sleepy Irish town, living in denial of her “talents” since the death of her father, who became a minor celebrity by popularising the paranormal. The werewolf she’s called on to investigate turns out to be a fox and although Rose gets to exorcise the odd wheely bin, she wants nothing more than to lead an ordinary life… all of which goes right out the window when one hit wonder Christian Winter (a hysterically foppy Will Forte) attempts to revive his flagging pop career by ritually sacrificing virgin schoolgirl Sarah Martin (Emma Coleman) and her widowed father Martin (Barry Ward) seeks Rose’s assistance. Romance blossoms, but the intermittently intruding shade of Martin’s jealous wife (herself apparently channeling Lily Savage) considerably complicates an already complicated situation. When Winter summons a demon to claim it’s virginal prize, there are awkward revelations about just who is and isn’t virgo intacto… with hilarious consequences (no really, it’s a hoot!)

EGiVqteXUAEY9Mf.jpg

Co-director Mike Ahern introduced the film, subsequently discussed it with Chris Cooke and fielded audience questions, explaining how some genuinely impressive effects sequences (for such a low budget effort) were achieved and insisting more than once that the character of Christian Winter was absolutely NOT based on Chris de Burgh, OK? He and Loughman are currently writing stuff for Aardman Animations and hoping to develop Rose Dooley’s extra ordinary adventures into a TV spin off. Fingers crossed for that… or knock on wood… whatever superstition takes your fancy.

daniel-isn-t-real-154367.jpeg

2) The “is it all in the disturbed protagonist’s mind or is there really a monster?” film. Adam Egypt Mortimer’s Daniel Isn’t Real (2019) invokes the perennial Horror Film concern (think Dead Of Night, 1945… Psycho, 1960) about how to integrate (and usually the failure to integrate) undesirable / antisocial personality traits. Young Luke attributes his childhood attempt to poison his schizophrenic mother to an imaginary friend named Daniel, whom he locked up on a dollhouse after that regrettable little incident. The post pubertal and clueless in love Luke (Miles Robbins) releases Daniel (now played by Patrick Schwarzenegger) to act as his wingman but after initial successes as a lady killer he starts looking and acting increasingly like… well, a lady killer! Is Luke succumbing to hereditary mental illness or are his “demons” the manifestation of an actual demon? Mortimer plays his cards craftily until the denouement, when things get a bit too “David Lynch” (with “good” Luke confronting a nightmarish figure from Hieronymus Bosch’s Garden Of Earthly Delights) for my liking. No prizes for guessing Patrick Schwarzenegger’s parentage (I’m still trying to work out if he gave a good performance or whether playing a sneering son-of-a-bitch just comes naturally to such a Hollywood Prince) but Miles Robbins is Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon’s son… how cool must it be to have Susan Sarandon as your Mum?

MV5BN2VjZmUyMzgtNGJlZi00ZjQwLWJlZjgtYTA5M2IyYmUxZjA3XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNTAyODkwOQ@@._V1_.jpg

3) The disinterred Eurohorror Classic. What better way to kick start a rainy Friday afternoon in Nottingham than with Konstantin Ershov & Georgi Kropachyov’s 1967 adaptation of the Russian witchy classic Viy? Mario Bava’s seminal Black Sunday / Mask Of The Demon (1960) was, of course,  nominally an adaptation of the same Gogol story but really an opportunity for Bava to indulge his exquisite monochrome visual sense and explore the disturbing dichotomy of beautiful and evil potentials in the incredible face of Barbara Steele. Viy retains the satirical bent of its literary inspiration. Its ethnic sense of humour and pacing take a bit of getting used to but neither its colour palette nor the visual effects work during its pandemoniacal climax would have disgraced Bava himself. Watch out for this one on Severin Blu-ray.

The-Mute-e1560875008221_758_427_81_s.jpg

4) “It’s not exactly Horror, but it’s pretty intense stuff, all the same”. The programme lingered East of the ol’ Iron Curtain for the UK Premiere of Polish director Bartosz Konopka’s Sword Of God (2019, formerly known as The Mute). Christian missionaries Willibrord (Krzysztof Pieczynski) and his unnamed companion (Karol Bernacki) arrive on a small island to convert its pagan population before the arrival of their liege lord and his all-conquering army. Willibrord sets about his mission with personal bravery but inflexibility that ultimately crosses the border into fanaticism. The other guy goes native and becomes a saintly martyr figure, then the king arrives and (SPOLER ALERT!) kills everybody anyway! It’s a powerful portrayal of religious hypocrisy, man’s inhumanity to man and the betrayal of idealism. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear that the issue of historical intolerance still casts a long shadow over Poland…

Girl-on-the-Third-Floor.jpg

5) The Haunted House flick. Girl On The Third Floor (2019) plays out as though the ghost of Brooke Shields’ character in Louis Malle’s Pretty Baby (1978) is causing problems on the set of Tim Allen’s old sit com Home Improvement. Travis Stevens is clearly attempting to make some kind of statement about toxic masculinity but like the unquiet spirits in the house / former bordello that CM Punk (you heard me) is renovating, there’s an effective, affecting film struggling to get out of this one but never quite making it and in lieu of any dramatic resolution, matters are concluded with a tiresome torrent of gimmicky special effects. It didn’t exactly help that Mr Punk and his silly tattoos really irritated me. This kind of stuff must be the reason why I keep accumulating rejection slips from Les Cahiers Du Cinéma…

401e883514db8a860f83bb0147c798eb.jpg

6) “The Friday Night Psychedelic Apocalypse, preferably featuring Nic Cage going batshit crazy”… SpectreVision (also the company behind Daniel Isn’t Real) stole the show last time round with Panos Cosmatos’s Mandy so another film from them offering the opportunity to watch Nic Cage go barking mad in pulsating purple obviously made Color Out Of Space (2019) one of the most eagerly anticipated items in this year’s lineup. It’s other main selling point, of course, was the return of Richard Stanley, directing his first completed feature in 27(!) years. Stanley’s loose (aren’t they always?) adaptation of the hoary H.P. Lovecraft yarn examines the effect on an ordinary family of a meteorite hit that releases alien entities keen to make Earth over in the image of their home planet. Well, when I say “ordinary family”, I mean llama-farming Daddy Gardner (Cage), his stockbroker wife Theresa (Joely Richardson), his sexy daughter Lavinia (Madeleine Arthur) who spends much of her time getting witchy in the woods, stoner older son Benny (Brendan Meyer) and youngest sibling Jack (Julian Hilliard), a Milky Bar Kid type whose main plot purpose is to work on the maternal feelings of female audience members before they’re hit with the seriously bad shit that befalls him. I found the film overlong and questionably paced. The reality warp and Cage’s personal psychotic embolism (surely no spoiler, there) kick in too early and there’s nothing for the narrative to do after that than accumulate ever more rococo refinements of weirdness. COOS ultimately emerges as rather less than the sum of its parts, though many of those parts (e.g. Lavinia’s climactic trippy rhapsody) are very impressive indeed. I’m glad I saw it and hey, if you crave Andean mammal satisfaction, this one is packed with enough alpaca action to put your ass in traction (we thought it would be a good idea to ask the guy who wrote the voice overs for all those Dolemite trailers to contribute a guest sentence to this posting… obviously we were wrong!)

POOL-THE_Poster_BIFFF2019.jpg

7) The Creature Feature. Ping Lumpraploeng’s The Pool (2019… another Mayhem UK Premiere) is nicely shot and scored, with great visual FX, its mechanical suspense unfolds with admirable efficiency and all the actors do a good job but 99% of the work on this one obviously went into writing it. Having hit on a boldly minimalist premise (Theeradej Wongpuapan and his girlfriend Ratnamon Ratchiratham are trapped for seven days in an empty deep sided swimming pool with a pregnant, pissed-off crocodile), Lumpraploeng then adorned it with a succession of fiendish embellishments such that every time you think things couldn’t possibly get any worse for the protagonists, they promptly do. Endlessly involving and inventive (I’ll leave it to you to discover how a Dulux dog’s suicide fits into the mix), The Pool could be taken as a metaphor for the unremitting toughness of life in Thailand and it was nice to see the characters taking time out between crocodile attacks to debate the ethics of abortion. One of the investors in this one was Pizza Hut and you don’t have to wait long for the expected product placement, though the delivery dude arrives too late to render any significant assistance. Perhaps they should have told him to make it snappy…

she-never-died-trailer.png

8) The “the protagonist is a monster but the guys she’s fighting are even worse!” film… Audrey Cummings Canadian effort She Never Died (2019) is apparently some sort of sequel to Jason Krawczyk’s He Never Died, a Henry Rollins Vehicle from 2015. I haven’t see that one but you don’t have to be Einstein to figure out that protagonist Lacey (Olunike Adeliyi) is some kind of dewinged angel / demon figure, cursed with immortality and an insatiable appetite for human flesh and blood. Luckily she tends to dine on humanity’s worst elements. In this film that’s a seriously dodgy brother / sister team running a leisure empire whose business model is equal parts Hostel (2005) and Videodrome (1983), so you get to cheer Lacey on through all the splattery kill scenes and still believe yourself to be on the side of the angels. Or demons.

7e5397_cddda7a01a7149508ea288b16d28f213~mv2.jpg

9) The “is it all in the disturbed protagonist’s mind or is there really a monster?” film… slight return. The first real surprise package of this year’s festival, Jeremy Gardner and Christian Stella’s Something Else (2019, previously known as After Midnight) was this year’s equivalent of Shin’ichirô Ueda’s One Cut Of The Dead from the previous Fest, a slowburn of a movie patiently received by an audience whose patience reaped rich rewards. Gardner stars as Hank, holed up in a one horse town wondering why his girlfriend Abby (Brea Grant) left him (well, she’s fed up living in a one horse town, mate), drinking beer with his goony friend Wade (an endearing performance from Henry Zebrowski) and becoming increasingly convinced that some kind of malevolent nocturnal presence is lurking around , looking to effect entrance. This is Thirtysomething for soulful rednecks, with a little something else thrown in… effectively a film in the service of a looming punchline, en route to which the viewer is similarly well served and entertained.

media.jpg

10) The Short Film Showcase Interlude (the beating heart of the festival, as Chris and Steve characterise it) proved, as ever, to be a pretty mixed bag of fare, much of it receiving its UK / European / World Premiere. Sheil’s own Unmade, in which a  scorned woman deploys black arts to take the ultimate revenge on her dead ex was among the better entries. Victor Català’s A Little Taste (Spain) turned out to be a nicely twisted (if not exactly unpredictable) vignette, sharing its woodland setting with Sekander Sharifi’s neatly executed little gag Limbus (Germany) and the multi-director French animation Wild Love, which plays out as a Disney Pixar effort gone bad. Canadian Calvin Lee Reeder’s The Procedure 2 proceeded, for all of its 3 minutes, along the frankly flatulent lines laid out in its predecessor, a big crowd pleaser here three years ago. “Brown comedy”, indeed… and  Kate McCoid’s It’s Not Custard (UK) did for acne what Reeder seems determined to do for farts.

maxresdefault.jpg

11) The Kick Ass Oriental Actioner (and another UK Premiere). In Lee Won-tae’s South Korean effort The Gangster, The Kop, The Devil (2019), ruthless crime lord Dong-Seok Ma (from Train To Busan, 2016) is so amazed that a serial killer known as ‘K’ (Kim Sungkyu) has had the temerity to try and off him that he teams up with reluctant cop Jung Tae-seok (Kim Moo Yul) to catch the guy. Predictable buddy bonding and violent spectacle ensue. I’ve seen better in this genre but y’know, Ringo Lam is no longer with us and John Woo is otherwise occupied so what you gonna do? Sylvester Stallone is credited as one of the producers and is apparently going to remake this one, Hollywood style. Hm….

03-1024x621.jpg

12) The “What The Fuck?!?” film…  indeed, introduced by Steve Sheil as “the what-the-fuckiest-what-the-fuck film ever”, Valeri Milev’s Bullets Of Justice (2019) emerged from nowhere (well, from Russia / Kazakhstan / Argentina, actually) to become one of this festivals’s most gob-smacking talking points. In a post-Apocalyptic scenario, the last remnants of humanity wage a life-and-death struggle with man-eating mutant pigs. An endless succession of ultraviolent action scenes? Check. Bizarre, self-consciously mannered directorial flourishes? Present and correct. Some of the most perfectly formed backsides ever captured on film? Affirmative. A cameo appearance by Cristiano Ronaldo? Yep. An ending which suggests that either a) macho post-Apocalyptic guerrillas harbour secret gay fantasies, or b) gay fashion models on acid fantasise about post-Apocalyptic guerrilla wars? You get that, too. Like the man said… what the fuck?!?

MV5BNjJhODlhOGQtN2NjMy00ZjFhLTg1NjAtN2YzZGZjMzQ3NDNjXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNDcyMjQ4MzU@._V1_.jpg

13) The Suspenseful Tale Of Urban Paranoia. Yet another UK Premiere, Kwon Lee’s Door Lock (2018) pits its serial killer (South Korea must be crawling with them) against vulnerable office worker Kyung-min (Kong Hyo-jin) rather than a brutal crime baron. The flesh creeping extent of his night crawling activities are revealed to us but she only has the vaguest, increasingly worrying sense that something weird is going on. The police don’t take her complaints seriously and Lee relentlessly turns the suspenseful screws en route to a nail-biting finale. Seasoned viewers of these things (in fact most viewers) will have little trouble sorting the red herrings from the real murderous McCoy but this one is still worthier of a Hollywood remake (if, indeed, that would be doing it any favours) than The Gangster, The Cop, The Devil.

Why-Dont-You-Just-Die-Poster.jpg

Oh, those Russians

14) The Post-Tarantino Hipster Bloodbath. There’s definitely something going on in Russia, genre film wise. Chris Cooke introduced Kirill Sokolov’s Why Don’t You Just Die! (2019) as “a Spaghetti Western that takes place in one room” and yeah, he’s pretty much nailed it (Morricone fans will find all sorts of interesting things going on throughout this one’s OST). A boy named Matvey (Aleksandr Kuznetsov) visits his girlfriend’s father (tough former copper Andrey, played by Vitaliy Khaev), intending to kill him with a concealed (but not for long) hammer. After a gruelling physical confrontation, Andrey calls in his former cop colleague Yevgenich (Mikhail Gorevoy) to dispose of the intruder. But what’s the secret he’s trying to conceal from Yevgenich? And why was daughter Olya (Evgeniya Kregzhde) putting Matvey up to murder in the first place? The back stories are separately introduced and intertwined in Tarantino-esque fashion, that is to say in the fashion that Tarantino pinched from Akira Kurosawa. It’s possible to construe the whole thing as an arch comment on post-Soviet Russian mores but a lot of people are going to enjoy WDYJD! purely on the strength of its black comedy and relentlessly brutal imagery.

vivarium__4.17.1.jpg

15) The Brilliantly Bleak Allegory Whose Co-Writer Insists It’s Not An Allegory. In Lorcan Finnegan’s rivetting Vivarium (UK / US 2019), a couple (Jesse Eisenberg and Imogen Poots) move into a house in the suburbs and bring up a baby, whose demands gradually take over their lives. Mum resents never getting any time to herself, Dad throws himself into his work. The kid (played by Senan Jennings then Eanna Hardwicke) won’t go to bed and spends all his time watching TV. Dad comes to resent the alliance Mum and the kid seem to be forming against him. Dad works himself to death. Mum follows. The kid buries them and blithely gets on with his own pointless life. Hey, I thought this was supposed to be a fantasy move?!? It is, of course and one that resonates troublingly thanks to the respective contributions of director Finnegan, production designer Philip Murphy and co-writer Garret Shanley. The latter introduced the film, subsequently chatting with Chris Cooke and fielding audience questions… hey Garret, of course it’s a fucking allegory!

PRESS-QUOTES-CTD2.jpg

16) The “blissfully complacent character obliged to undergo a blackly comic odyssey through unguessed at low life vistas” film. Two years ago it was 68 Kill. This time it’s Ant Timpson’s New Zealand effort Come To Daddy (2019). Former kiwi fanzine editor Timpson produced The Greasy Strangler, which rocked and shocked Mayhem attendees back in 2016 (just the words “hootie tootie disco cutie” still bring me out in a cold sweat). This significantly more “realistic” effort sees Norval Greenwood (Elijah Wood) attempting to reconnect with the dad who abandoned him in infancy, an intrinsically delicate exercise which turns into something infinitely more challenging for our boy when the big plot twist kicks in and turns his world upside down. I don’t feel like I should say too much more than that but believe me, this one is well worth catching.

mayhem-chris-and-steven-min.jpg

So these are just some of the ingredients that, when combined in exactly the right proportions and sprinkled with secret Mayhem spices, bring Festival ecstasy to The Broadway on an annual basis. Only Chris Cooke, Steve Sheil (above) and Meli Gueneau know the exact recipe. And they’re not saying anything.

mayhem-2019-banner-min.jpg

You probably also wanted to hear about those legendary inter-film quizzes and “mystery poster” giveaways, about the pulse pounding, nerve wracking test of man and mettle that is The Flinterrogation, about the general hobbing and indeed nobbing (OK, we’ll restrict it to the hobbing) with old friends, new friends and cyberfriends suddenly made flesh… all of this will be duly revealed in another, Darker place. Patience, my pretties.

(For the record I skipped the Friday and Saturday night revivals of – respectively – The Hidden and Vampire’s Kiss. We old codgers have got to sleep sometime, you know…)

Categories: Events, Film Reviews | Tags: | Leave a comment

You Need Your Bumps Feeling, Mate… José Ramon Larraz’s DEVIATION Reviewed.

Deviation-Sexuelle.jpg

Deviation (Sweden / UK / Spain, 1971).  Directed by José Ramón Larraz.

Oh to be in England, now that Autumn’s there. Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness… not to mention voyeurism, porno shoots, gerontophilia, drug abuse, black magic, lesbian vampires, murder and human taxidermy, if you happen to be visiting one of the country piles inhabited by Karl Lanchbury (pictured below in one of his more subdued moments) during some of the pictures made by Catalan Horror maven José Ramon Larraz in his English period (1970-74). We’ve already considered Whirlpool (1970), The House That Vanished (1973) and Symptoms (1974) on this blog and now turn our gimlet eye upon Deviation (1971), hitherto the most elusive of these films, recently discovered lurking on Youtube.

MV5BNzQyM2NkYWQtMWI2MS00ZmUyLTk1OTktZGE2ZDMxZmEzMzIwXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMTQxNzMzNDI@._V1_SX1777_CR0,0,1777,999_AL_.jpg

After a disorientating title sequence (whose action is never really explained) and an opening scene which establishes that Julian (Lanchbury) is an intense young taxidermist (hm, remind you of anyone?) but relatively normal compared to his weirdo sister Rebecca (Whirlpool holdover Sibyla Grey), we find ourselves in the company of odd couple Paul (Malcolm Terris) and Olivia (Lisbet Lundquist… yes, like its predecessor Whirlpool, this is a Scandinavian co-production) who are driving through some dark woods, having an argument about his refusal to leave his wife. Their evening goes from bad to worse when Paul runs over a tripped out Satanist (“He didn’t know how to smoke”, we subsequently learn).

deviation japan poster2.jpg

Seeking refuge at Julian and Rebecca’s tumble down manor (some of whose underground tunnels bear more than a passing resemblance to the ones Marianne Morris and Anulka spend much of their time running up and down in during Larraz’s Vampyres, 1974), they are drugged by their hosts. Having already taken uppers to keep him awake while driving, Paul revives enough to have a poke around the house (discovering a cat obsessed, doom prophecying, Alzheimer’s addled Auntie) and becomes aware that some kind of ceremony is going on. Discovered, he is dragged down into the cellar to be sexually humiliated by Jules and Beccy’s hippy pals, until his obvious arousal so disgusts Rebecca that she stabs him to death.

deviation 1971 poster10.jpg

Olivia doesn’t seem unduly disturbed by Paul’s’ disappearance (readily swallowing the story that he had to get back to his office) and happily submerges herself in the ongoing drug party life style of Jules, Beccy and their far out mates. When Julian shoots her up with heroin she enthuses that anything is preferable to her dreary affair with Paul.

il_fullxfull.1820490980_k9r6.jpg

Rebecca visits a sleazy old Dr Feelgood (former BBC announcer Geoffrey Wincott) to stock up on more dope and after initially seeming to succumb to his superannuated advances (inter generational sex crops up so regularly in these films, it’s fair to speculate that Larraz had a pretty keen personal interest in the subject), stabs him too. Back at the mansion, Olivia discovers Paul’s distinctive mermaid tattoo preserved as a taxidermalogical trophy and finally turns on her hosts / captors… the film’s bungled twist ending falls completely flat, accomplishing the difficult trick of making its opening look like a relative model of coherence and clarity.

Deviation_end04.jpg

The first shot we see in this film is a brief glimpse of a phrenology bust, suggesting that for all those occult trappings, its actual narrative motor is sheer human craziness… deviation from some norm of “mental health”. Rebecca has clearly been sexually traumatised some time in her previous life (Larraz’s attempts to appropriate / approximate elements of Polanski’s Repulsion, 1965, would be more convincingly attained in Symptoms). There’s also a pretty on-the-nose statement about contemporary deviation from traditional moral norms… just as with Vivian Neves’ character in Whirlpool, we’re invited to conclude that Lundquist’s “had it coming”. You can take the director out of fascist era Spain but the converse isn’t, apparently, so easily achieved. Indeed, Deviation looks a lot like a dry run for a film Larraz made in Spain after the demise of Generalissimo Francisco Franco, 1982’s Black Candles (UK quad below).

177.jpg

Deviation is, frankly, a right old mess (and typically of Larraz’s output in this period, the dialogue is clunky as fuck) but I was glad of the opportunity to watch it again for the first time in donkey’s years. Like Whirlpool it boasts a nifty OST from Italian maestro Stelvio Cipriani but the understandably crappy picture quality here makes it difficult to pass comment on the film’s visual merits or otherwise. Perhaps, if possible (one gathers the rights are in dispute) Arrow could continue the good work they began in their “Blood Hunger” Larraz BD box set by giving this one the kind of release it deserves. Fingers crossed.

deviation ost front & back2.jpg

Categories: Film Reviews | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Not So Wonderful Copenhagen… A Quick Take On Brian De Palma’s DOMINO.

domino-depalma.jpg

Domino (Denmark / France / Italy / Belgium / Netherlands, 2019). Directed by Brian De Palma.

Looks like Brian De Palma burned all his Hollywood bridges with Redacted (2007) and presumably his proposed Harvey Weinstein picture isn’t designed to rebuild any of them any time soon. Passion (2012) was a Franco-German co-production and his latest, Domino, sucked up tax shelter investments from several European countries, principally Denmark, where BDP experienced sufficient problems with producers to declare that this will be his first and final foray into Scandinavian Noir. The film recently crept out on disc in the UK without much fanfare and I was pleasantly surprised (also kinda shocked) when antisocial media pal @GIALLO_GIALLO advised me that it was available on Amazon Prime.

DOMINO-de-palma-review.jpg

So, what we got here? Things start promisingly enough when Copenhagen cops Christian (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) and Lars (Søren Malling) roll up to a reported domestic abuse incident. Lars is running down the clock to retirement and talking about taking his wife on a Caribbean holiday, so no prizes for guessing what happens to him when the incident actually turns out to be a bit of jihadist score-settling. All this plays out as yet another Vertigo (1958) rehash and Christian’s guilt over his part in the death of a colleague, interacting with the motivation of Lars’ pregnant lover Alex (Carice van Houten) and machinations of slippery CIA man Joe Martin (Guy Pearce) promise much but ultimately, De Palma flatters to deceive.

Immagine-in-evidenza.jpg

Lip service is paid to signature concerns such as media / message, scopophilia and the surveillance society (updated to include drones and facial recognition technology) and Pino Donaggio (above, with De Palma) delivers his mandatory Herrmannesque score but Domino lacks the kind of camera and editing virtuosity we’ve come to expect from BDP and packs just one significant set piece scene, at a Spanish bull fighting arena, where suspense is adeptly built then fizzles out with a well-aimed kick in the balls.

Domino_1906_990.jpg

De Palma seems to have reached that point in his career to which Dario Argento has been reduced for some time now. You know: Sleepless is better than The Phantom Of The Opera, but… Domino is a competent thriller on which you won’t begrudge spending 90 minutes of your time, but any amount of competent directors could have knocked it out. Snake Eyes, Femme Fatale and Passion, never mind Dressed To Kill, Blow Out or Raising Cain, would all knock spots off it.

Brian-De-Palma-Domino-film-11906-600x400.jpg

Would probably make quite a nifty double bill with Sergio Pastore’s Crimes Of The Black Cat (1972)…

CYN3ViTWMAAzbiQ-1.jpg

Categories: Film Reviews | Tags: | Leave a comment

A Twist In Tinsel Town’s Space Time Continuum: Observations On ONCE UPON A TIME… IN HOLLYWOOD.

2488029___ONCE_UPON_A_TIME_IN_HOLLYWOOD.jpg

Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (US, 2019). Directed by Quentin Tarantino.

I know people who take real umbrage at “revisionist” accounts of the Tate / Labianca slayings. It’s difficult to imagine how things could get any more revisionist than in Quentin Tarantino’s much-hyped latest offering, Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood, which interweaves the stories of fading TV actor Rick Dalton (Leonardo Di Caprio) and his stuntman sidekick / personal support system Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt) with the build up to the Manson Family’s visit to 10050 Cielo Drive on 09/08/69. After her initial misgivings, the film arrives with the blessing of Debra Tate, the late Sharon’s sister and you can kind of see why. It’s been billed as “the film that people who hate Tarantino will enjoy” and indeed, I liked it a lot more than I thought I was going to. This is clever stuff but neither as ostentatiously nor obnoxiously pleased with its cleverness as some of its predecessors have been…

5d404c0da13c956c672237a2-480-360.jpg

Predictably, the Quentster spurns no opportunity to rub women’s feet in your face. Is it true that his next film will be shot in 3-D, with scratch’n’sniff cards handed out at the box office? Maybe if he reads this it will be. If so, I expect a screen credit, OK Quentin?

65800326_380614829256239_7765572679362617650_n.jpg

OUAT…IH’s 161 minute running time doesn’t weigh too heavily on it, or the viewer. Some of the TV Western stuff wears out its welcome a bit, though when Dalton starts fluffing his lines and we’re dragged abruptly back into the world of Hollywood, 1969, you can see what Tarantino is doing. There’s a l-o-n-g and sappingly suspenseful sequence where Booth is poking around at the spahn Movie Ranch, under the disapproving glares of The Family, which makes you kinda wish the director would try his hand at a full-on Horror Film.

Manson-Family-in-Once-Upon-a-Time-in-Hollywood.jpg

The way he intercuts fact and fiction, drawing on his encyclopaedic knowledge of Film (and Pop Culture in general) to disrupt narrative conventions, owes more to European Arthouse Cinema than the exploitation mavens he is so fond of referencing (though the flashbacks-within-flashbacks structure of Pulp Fiction demonstrated that Hollywood had finally caught up with Lucio Fulci, according to no less disinterested an authority than Fulci himself). There are loving tributes here to Sergio Corbucci and Tarantino’s talismanic Antonio Margheriti (he probably figures he’s bigged up Enzo Castellari quite enough for the time being).

The audacious historical rewrite which closes the picture is only the final of several pointed reminders that QT is an auteur and in the realm of his movies, he can do whatever he likes with culture and history, right? I can go along with this to a certain extent but the idea that there could exist, in any possible alternative universe, a stuntman (one who, moreover, seems to subsist on pot noodles) capable of licking Bruce Lee? Nah, you’re not having it. As for the idea that anybody could continue to ply their thespian trade in Tinsel Town while under ongoing suspicion of having murdered their wife on a boat? Actually, now you mention it…

once-upon-time-hollywood-bruce-lee.jpg

P.S. Ten great tracks from 1969 that didn’t make it onto OUAT…IH’s certifiably groovy soundtrack… just off the top of my noble bonce. You’re welcome.

01) We’re Going Wrong – Rotary Connection
02) Soul Sister Brown Sugar – Sam & Dave
03) Touch Me – The Doors
04) Savoy Truffle – Ella Fitzgerald
05) Gimme Shelter – The Rolling Stones
06) Cymbaline – Pink Floyd
07) I Want To Take You Higher – Sly And The Family Stone
08) In A Silent Way – Miles Davis
09) Thank You – Led Zeppelin
10) Peaches En Regalia – Frank Zappa

00XP-TATE-TEARS1-articleLarge.jpg

Categories: Film Reviews | Leave a comment

The Shadow Over Doug McClure… HUMANOIDS FROM THE DEEP Reviewed.

tumblr_m7wfsmpEeL1ra4318o1_r1_500.gif

Monster: Humanoids From The Deep (1980). Directed by Barbara Peeters (and Jimmy T. Murakami, uncredited). Produced by Roger Corman (uncredited), Hunt Lowry and Martin B. Cohen. Written by Martin B. Cohen, Frank Arnold and William Martin. Cinematography by Daniel Lacambre. Edited by Mark Goldblatt. Art direction by Michael Erler. Music by James Horner. Creature FX by Rob Bottin. Special FX by Roger George and (uncredited) Chris Walas. Stunts by Diamond Farnsworth and Jack Tyree. Starring: Doug McClure, Ann Turkel, Vic Morrow, Cindy Weintraub, Anthony Pena, Denise Galik, Lynn Theel.

HFTD-02.jpg

“We’re having a great time down here… we’re waving to people… we’re playing records… we’re doing a whole lot of things!” Mad Man Mike Michaels paints an irresistible radio picture of the annual Noyo Salmon Festival.

humanoidsblu_shot5l.jpg

Jim Hill (Doug McClure… you might remember him from constant lampooning in The Simpsons) and beautiful scientist Susan Drake (Ann Turkel… you might remember her as the trophy wife of Richard Harris) team up to investigate weird goings on in the fishing town of Noyo. A sinister salmon canning corporation is setting up its new factory upstream, which Hank Slattery (Vic Morrow), his redneck cronies and the townsfolk in general regard as booster for the local economy, though Native American “Johnny Eagle” (Anthony Pena) has eco-conscious-cum-spiritual legal objections to the misappropriation of his people’s ancestral lands. A certain amount of low level racist aggro plays out in this poor man’s Henrik Ibsen scenario before we crack on with what everybody’s actually come to see… i.e. oversexed mutant salmon-men, spawned by sinister corporate attempts to increase fishing yields, chasing large-breasted, bikini-clad lovelies around the cove and impregnating them. “It’s my theory that these creatures are driven to mate with humans, to accelerate their already incredible evolution” speculates Turkel. Who could forget (or indeed forgive?) the scene in which a ventriloquist’s dummy talks a buxotic beach babe out of her bikini, only for a humanoid to invade their tent and violate her?

C2BZfd3UQAAybG0.jpghqdefault.jpg

All hell breaks loose when the Humanoids run amok at Noyo’s annual Salmon Festival, molesting women (and dismembering people of whatever gender) to the running commentary of the exceptionally irritating Mad Man Mike Michaels, a DJ who’s clearly learned his trade from the guy heard over the climax of Zombie Flesh Eaters). Created by Rob Bottin (he’s actually in there under one of his suits), they look fucking great, with long arms that they wave around like Andrew Marr and (unlike Marr) prominent brains that are bashed in by handy-dandy planks, marlin spikes and what have you when the crowd turns on them and drives them into the bay, which Jim Hill (not, under any circumstances, to be confused with Jimmy Hill) ignites.

humanoids3.jpg

There’s a touchy feely reconciliation between Johnny Eagle and his erstwhile persecutors. “Everything’s alright now, Sheriff… isn’t it?” asks a character who’s clearly never seen a New World release or any kind of monster movie before, cueing the sucker punch coda in which Turkel supervises the rather messy birth of a humanoid / bikini-clad lovely hybrid, incorporating the ten seconds of alien copying that was obviously all Roger Corman was prepared to fund… ooh, that’s gotta hurt!

2071603230_429e5cca53.jpg

Like a dumbed-down Creature From The Black Lagoon / sexed-up Horror Of Party Beach, Monster rattles through its economical 80 minutes ticking all the exploitive boxes to pleasing effect. I first encountered it on a theatrical double bill with Fred Walton’s When A Stranger Calls (1979) and it’s been a firm personal favourite ever since, just crying out for rediscovery by a wider audience (Arrow, are you listening?) Nothing is as powerful as a trash movie whose time has come… not only was M:HFTD parading its eco-consciousness and championing civil / indigenous rights nearly 40 years before David Attenborough started counting all the plastic bags floating around the North Pole, the story behind its production also chimes spookily with today’s feminist movement… but not in a good way. Not if you believe the official account, anyway…

MV5BOGQ3ZWFiNmQtNGI4Ni00NmI5LWJkNjYtZDFmNzI2YTE3MWNiXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjUyNDk2ODc@._V1_SX1777_CR0,0,1777,999_AL_.jpg

The widely accepted version is that Roger Corman promised Barbara Peeters that she could direct a right on eco-thriller then undermined her by cutting in gratuitous tit’n’ass shenanigans filmed by Jimmy T. Murakami on obviously inferior film stock. Doncha just hate that kind of patriarchal bullshit? But wait just a cotten-pickin’ minute… the “starry eyed neophyte shafted by chauvinist movie mogul” line must have generated some useful hype for the publicity campaign, but how does it square with the known facts? For an alleged sexist, Corman has relied heavily on the collaboration of his wife Julie over the years and has never shown any reluctance to foster female talent (who’s that “Gale Hurd” lurking among the production assistant credits on Monster?) What’s more Peeters had already directed the exploitive Bury Me An Angel (1971) and the sexploitive Summer School Teachers (1974) for Corman, not to mention co-writing and co-directing the dykesploiation epic The Dark Side Of Tomorrow (1970) for Harry H. Novak (never exactly regarded as among the most woke of producers).

bury-me-an-angel-9d121a06-4402-4ec1-9851-7079fb30975-resize-750.jpg

As for Murakami, he subsequently directed (among many others) the film adaptation of Raymond Briggs’ anti-nuke parable When The Wind Blows (1986) and video promos for Kate Bush and David Bowie, so for all we know, he was responsible for the eco-conscious stuff and Peeters handled the boob’n’bum aspect. Whatever, her career wasn’t exactly sabotaged by the Corman connection, any more than those of Joe Dante or Jonathan Demme (who earned their spurs shooting bits and pieces for insertion into Corman features) or Gale Anne Hurd were. Although she never attained the same heights as some of those guys, Peeters carved out a respectable career for herself directing episodes of such TV shows as Cagney and Lacey, Falcon Crest and Remington Steele.

HFTD.jpg

Two final thoughts… 1) Jeff Yonis’s 1996 TV movie remake of M:HFTD (despite perpetuating the original’s big boob fixation with the casting of Emma Samms) is a travesty which you can safely avoid. 2) The film under consideration here should also be avoided by anyone who’s about to give birth. In fact anyone who might ever conceivably find themselves in that position should give it a very wide, er, berth indeed…

humanoids_from_deep_poster_03 copy.jpg

Humanoids.jpg

Meanwhile, on a Ghanaian poster for a completely different film…

 

 

Categories: Film Reviews | Tags: , , | Leave a comment

Buio Alpha (Before The Darkness)… Mino Guerrini’s THE THIRD EYE Reviewed

MV5BOWJkYzMxOGItYzU0ZC00MjUyLTllNGMtMDFhOTU5NWM0ZTJlXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjUyNDk2ODc@._V1_.jpg

Il Terzo Occhio (“The Third Eye”), 1966. Directed by “James Warren” (Mino Guerrini). Produced by “Louis Mann” (Luigi Carpentieri and Ermanno Donati). Written by “James Warren” (Mino Guerrini), “Dean Craig” (Piero Regnoli), “Phil Young” (=?) and “Gilles De Rays” (?!?) Cinematography by “Sandy Deaves” (Alessandro D’Eva). Edited by “Donna Christie” (Ornella Micheli). Production design by “Samuel Fields” (Mario Chiari). Music by “Frank Mason” (Francesco De Masi). Starring “Frank Nero” (Franco Nero), Gioia Pascal, “Diana Sullivan” (Erika Blanc), “Olga Sunbeauty” (!) (Olga Solbelli), Marina Morgan, Gara Granda, Richard Hillock, Luciano Foti.

1dc0941d699dd6b122db9e586bc1f768.jpg

Mino Guerrieri’s The Third Eye concerns itself with the murderous misadventures of an uptight young man who’s dominated by his mother and spends too much time on his hobby of taxidermy… hm, remind you of anything?

93d67ad0-138b-4e18-bf4d-23a812fd5a9f.jpg

Said young man is a spoilt aristo who goes off the rails when his beloved fiancee carks it. He picks up young floozies and has it off with them in the company of his enbalmed paramour then does away with them, with the collusion of his infatuated housekeeper. Everything’s going swimmingly until his fiancee’s identical twin turns up… remind you of anything else?

MV5BNjdiZTAyMmYtYWE3YS00NThiLWFlOTQtYzlhYTQ3NDA2MGY4XkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyNDY2NzgwOTE@._V1_.jpg

Yep, Mino Guerrini’s The Third Eye is the missing link between Hitchcock’s Psycho (1960) and Jolly Joe D’Amato’s Buio Omega / Blue Holocaust / Beyond The Darkness / Buried Alive (1979). That domineering mother figure, who’s absent from the D’Amato flick and only exists as a figment of Norman Bates’ warped imagination (albeit a pivotal one) in Psycho, is present here in the all too fleshy form of Contessa Alberti (Olga Solbelli) and the resentful, calculating housekeeper (Gioia Pascal’s “Marta”), completely missing from Psycho, foreshadows Franca Stoppi’s spectacularly overplayed Iris in Buio Omega.

The Third Eye 3.jpgThese two alpha females go mano a mano over young Count Mino (Franco Nero) but are smart  enough to call a pragmatic truce when his fiancee Laura (Erika Blanc) threatens to eclipse both of them in his affections. At the suggestion of The Contessa, Marta drains the brake fluid from Laura’s car and she ends up dead in a pond. Having witnessed this sorry spectacle, Mino returns to the family chateau to be informed by the local gendarmerie that his mother has died after a fall down the stairs (in fact Marta pushed her)…

Il terzo occhio 07.JPG

Mino’s definitely had better days but his response to these events, traumatic as they are, can only be classified as overreaction. After Guerrini’s given him a goofy nightmare sequence, he starts picking up a string of strippers and hookers (the first of whom reminded me more than a little of Ania Pieroni) and making out with them until they object to the presence of the mummified Laura, at which point he throttles them to death.

image-w856.jpg

Screams were heard in the night as the result of him stuffin’…

“I’ve done it again…” Mino confesses to Marta (who’s already mopping up the evidence of his latest homicide) before protesting that he didn’t want to … his third eye made him do it!!! That’s OK then… After Marta has assisted on a few clean ups, she has sufficient leverage over Mino to extract a promise of marriage from him… perhaps a happy, if seriously twisted ending is in prospect? No, because now Laura’s identical twin Daniela (Blanc again, obviously) turns up and things start getting really wiggy!

02152903.JPG

For Franco Nero, who’s about to overtake Donald Pleasence and may well live to challenge Malcolm McDowell or possibly overhaul John Carradine in terms of sheer quantity of screen appearances, 1966 was a particularly busy and fruitful year, even by his standards… we’re talking this, Margheriti’s War Of The Planets and Wild, Wild Planet, no less than three important Spaghetti Western’s (Corubucci’s Django, Fulci’s Massacre Time and Ferdinando Baldi’s Texas, Adios) and playing the role of Abel in John Huston’s The Bible, among others. The following year, the role of Galahad in Joshua Logan’s Camelot would elevate Franco into the firmament of international stardom, though he continued to maintain a healthy prsence in Italian genre Cinema. It’s a single note performance that he gives here, but perfect for a part in which he’s effectively dominated by the female characters. Veteran Solbelli impresses as the Countess. Gioia Pascal as Marta chews nowhere near as much scenery as Franca Stoppi in Buio Omega but delvers a performance so solid that one is surprised to learn that this, only her second screen appearance (after Franco Indovina’s Menage Italian Style, the previous year) also turned out to be her last.

Il terzo occhio 02.JPG

Was Guerrini attempting some kind of auteurist statement by naming the character after himself? He directs well throughout, with his own distinctive eye for the camera angles and compositions that will best enhance the telling of his sick little tale, though hereafter he marked time as a filone hack-for-hire.

hqdefault.jpg

Just as Hitchcock, feted for the “tastefulness” of Psycho’s signature shower murder, felt empowered by shifts in Cinema community standards to get a whole lot more brutal twelve years later in Frenzy, so Joe D’Amato (never the most shrinking of violets anyway) had no qualms whatsoever about bringing the viler implications of the Norman Bates legend to the screen in 1979. Mino Guerrini was never going to get away with anything like that level of explicit sadism in 1966 and any grand guignol eruption of guts, filmed as here in black and white, was going to lose much of its impact anyway. Picking up on hints in Riccardo Freda’s Dr Hichcock brace (1962/3), The Third Eye cracks on more in the manner of Italian Gothic (coming right at the end of that particular cycle) than the giallo as which it has sometimes been identified… presumably by pundits who haven’t actually seen it. Last time I checked, it was still available (subtitled) on Amazon Prime, complete with shots from the first stripper killing that were excised from some releases. What are you waiting for, you sick puppies?

e78f7b757bbaa5fb038d0e9640ce20ca.png

Categories: Film Reviews | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: