Posts Tagged With: Italian Horror

When Italian FX Aces Turn Director… WAX MASK / KILLER CROCODILE 1 & 2 Reviewed.

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Wax Mask. BD. Severin. Region Free. Unrated.
Killer Crocodile / Killer Crocodile 2. BD. Severin. Region A. Unrated.

By the early 1980s Italy ruled the ‘B’ movie waves, churning out over three hundred titles per year to fuel an insatiable international appetite for horror, action and exploitation all’Italiana… a Roman empire the extent of which Trajan himself could scarcely have dreamed. By the end of that decade, however, the Italian film landscape was as bleak as any depicted in the post-Apocalyptic epics that constituted its final filone

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It doesn’t take an Edward Gibbon to trace the causes of this spectacular fall from grace. Tightening censorship in key European markets meant that enevelope-pushing outrages like Lucio Fulci’s New York Ripper (1982) were now out of the question. Along with the consequent blanding out of Italian genre efforts, there was increased leisure buck competition from the deregulation of domestic TV under Silvio Berlusconi and increasing incursions into exploitive subject matter by the US Majors whose budgets Spaghetti exploitation mavens could never hope to match.  Dardano Sacchetti, who wrote more films than anybody else during the industry’s most lucrative years, identifies the short-term thinking and profit-taking priorities of Italian producers as a crucially detrimental factor. If they’d invested instead of constantly cutting budgets, by this account, pasta paura could have become as big a deal as the spaghetti western… and Sacchetti didn’t shy away from identifying the poster boy for this myopic modus operandi as Fabrizio De Angelis, for whom he and Lucio Fulci collaborated on several low budget classics in the late ’70s, early ’80s. “De Angelis was an amiable man but a terrible producer, always ready to sacrifice even the best things about a movie just to save a few bucks”, Sacchetti told me. “He’s a cheap-skate…” chipped in Fred Williamson, alluding to FDA’s later tactic of ditching seasoned pro directors like Fulci and Enzo Castellari to direct his own pictures (as “Larry Ludman”):  “…. it has nothing to do with creativity. He doesn’t want to pay people to do something he thinks he can do, but that doesn’t mean he can do it well“. When I interviewed De Angelis, he defended himself from such charges as follows: “I’ve always given other directors bigger budgets than I give myself. I pay as much as anybody else and many of the people who complained came back to work for me again, so I can’t be that bad”.

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Sure enough, Sacchetti was back on board (as “David Parker Jr”) to co-write Killer Crocodile (1989)… not that it took much writing, emerging as a transposition of a certain Stephen Spielberg film (and ultimately Ibsen’s An Enemy Of The People, if you want to get pedantic about it) from Amity Island to the swamps of the Dominican Republic. Just in case anybody missed the Jaws allusions (or the fact that this whole film is one big Jaws allusion), Riz Ortolani’s score reverberates with all the obvious John Williams pinches.

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Environmentalist Kevin (Anthony… son of Richard… Crenna) and his crew discover that the Dominican waterways are clogged with something way worse than plastic bags and bottles. Irresponsible radioactive dumping, facilitated by a corrupt local Judge (Hollywood heavyweight Van Johnson in one of his final screen credits) has produced the eponymous super-sized saurian, impressively rendered (when you consider the likely budget) by Italy’s FX supremo Giannetto De Rossi, despite his words to the contrary (“It’s a laughing stock!”) in one of the bonus featurettes on this set. Editor Vincenzo Tomassi completes a quartet of holdovers from the gory, glory days of Lucio Fulci.

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With all that talent on hand and everything De Angelis had osmosed from his proximity to the likes of Fulci and Castellari (whose brother Enio Girolami steals the show as Captain Ahab-like crocodile hunter Joe), it’s no surprise that Killer Crocodile emerges as an efficient, satisfying piece of throwaway entertainment, smoothly shot by Federico Del Zoppo in the American TV movie style that was becoming increasingly prevalent at this time. If all that sounds a bit too blandly slick for your tastes, rest assured (and here comes the SPOILER ALERT!) that De Angelis winds things up (things notably including the title creature’s leathery ol’ head) with a revival of the classic “outboard motor” gag from Marino Girolami’s Zombie Holocaust (1980), another picture he produced back in the golden age… but what kind of egg is that hatching on the banks of the bayou?

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Laser focussed on the bottom line, FDA arranged the simultaneous shooting of Killer Crocodile 2 (1990) and detailed its direction to Giannetto De Rossi. History doesn’t record whether he was instructed to “make it snappy” but presumably De Rossi got the job on the grounds that he could be paid even less than the producer would pay “Larry Ludman”! Otherwise the crew’s pretty much the same (Giovanni Bergamini replaces Del Zoppo as DP) and so is the story. Corrupt corporate types are still dumping radioactive waste in that river, still with the connivance of scumbag politicians, one of whom is planning to open a leisure complex on a particularly hideously polluted stretch. Investigative journalist Liza (“Debra Karr”, would you believe?) is on the case but it’s not a particularly compelling one. Looks like they didn’t shoot enough footage of the crocodile to fall back on before it was definitively destroyed at the end of Part 1. There’s a great bit where it crashes through the side of a hut to snack on some low level bad dudes but such moments are few and far between. De Rossi is obliged to pad things out with a bunch of flashbacks to the original’s “greatest hits” and mucho over-baked exposition, though admittedly Ms Karr does look distractingly good, wandering around the jungle in a wet sports bra after her guide tried to rape her and was promptly eaten by the croc. Kevin and Joe arrive halfway through the picture to try and rescue her but blink and you’ll miss Joe. Having delivered the brazen line: “We’ve got to get a bigger boat”, Kevin is left to contrive the coup de gras, in the absence of any handy outboard motors, via a fistful of dynamite.

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Killer Crocodile 2 doesn’t really live up to its predecessor (how many sequels do?) but I was glad to be reacquainted with this brace, my VHS copies of which (sourced from German satellite channels) disappeared many moons ago down the ravenous collecting maw of leathery old Darrell Buxton. Severin present the films with their customary panache and  a slew of of tasty extras, notably Naomi Holwill’s fine feature length De Rossi doc The Prince Of Plasma, featuring contributions from the man himself, plus collaborators Luigi Cozzi, Massimo Vanni and Zombi 2 poster boy Ottaviano Dell’Acqua, also pundits Allan Bryce, Calum Waddell, Rachael Nisbet and Russ Hunter. In his standalone interview featurette, De Rossi is engagingly self deprecating regarding his work on these films. DP Federico Del Zoppo also has his say. The recollections of Anthony Crenna (now identifying as Richard Anthony Crenna) chime with those of many a non-Italian actor regarding his bemusement at being required to act sans direct sound and the virtually non-existent Health & Safety culture. Pietro Genuardi develops this theme further, claiming that a local drowned when operating the croc maquette underwater before detailing his own colourful experiences on location and attempting to return to Rome from it. You also get trailers and a few deleted sequences from the sequel. Nice.

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Wax Mask (1997), although it evolved into another (and rather more effective) FX-man-turned-director effort, was originally conceived as an attempt to revive the flagging Italian Horror tradition via another means, i.e. by assembling the dream team of Dario Argento (producing), Lucio Fulci (directing) and that man Sacchetti, writing (the latter has some very interesting things to say about the genesis of this project and the motivations behind it in our interview elsewhere on this blog). Of course Sacchetti was subsequently sacked (and replaced by Daniele Stroppa) when his proposed Mummy vehicle failed to find favour with Argento, whose enthusiasm for all things Gaston Leroux (below, left) at this point (which would attain its abysmal fruition in DA’s Phantom Of The Opera, 1997) re-routed the project in the direction of Leroux’s Waxwork Museum Mystery and its various cinematic offshoots. Tragically, after putting much work into that, Fulci died shortly before shooting was due to commence. Having been turned down by Fulci’s preferred successor, Claudio Fragasso (who collaborated with Lucio on the certifiably insane Zombi 3, 1988), Argento promoted long time FX man Sergio Stivaletti to make his directorial debut, resulting in the artefact under consideration here.

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Reflecting its convoluted origins, Wax Mask incorporates various strands of the Italian Horror / Thriller tradition, notably Gothic and Giallo, emerging as an attempt (no doubt Argento’s) to propel the two geriatric genres over the line into the 21st Century. Its action commences in Paris at the beginning of the 20th (“31st. December 1900” says the caption, but surely that’s a mistake?) where a little girl witnesses her parents being butchered by a masked figure with a robotic hand. Years later, two bravos partying in a Roman brothel strike a bet about whether one of them is brave enough to spend a night in a spooky wax museum (shades of Antonio Margheriti’s Danse Macabra). The designated dude duly dies of fright when confronted with a Medusa tableau. Was he the world’s biggest girl’s blouse or did something altogether more sinister occur? While we’re pondering that one, Sonia Lafont (Romina Mondello) turns up at the wax museum looking for a job and becomes obsessed with the contents of proprietor Boris Volkoff (Robert Hossein)’s gloves. Turns out she was the little girl who survived the film’s brutal prologue… how sensitive of Volkoff, after taking her on, to open a new display which recreates that crime in suspiciously accurate detail. And why do the new wax figures always look so much like people who’ve recently disappeared from the streets?

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Wax Mask looks quite ravishing due in no small part, one imagines, to the participation of Fulci stalwarts Sergio Salvati (DP) and Massimo Antonello Geleng (production design). Maurizio Abeni’s lush music vindicates the decision to go with an orchestral score rather than Simonetti-style synth rock and the surround sound option on this disc will give your home cinema setup quite a workout. As you’d expect from a Stivaletti film (and with the sterling support of the ill-fated Benoit Lestang) the FX are pretty impressive and the director continues to explore the possibilities of CGI, which he’d first tackled in Argento’s The Stendhal Syndrome (1996), not least with the startling eruption of a Terminator-like animated death’s head figure during the film’s denouement.

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The question inevitably arises (as it previously did with the likes of Lamberto Bava and Michele Soavi) as to how much of the film Stivaletti actually directed, considering that Argento spent so much time on set (and apparently Hossein, a director in his own right, wasn’t exactly backwards in coming forward with advice). It’s a question that’s thoroughly addressed in this edition’s plentiful bonus materials, interviews with several of the creative principals throwing much light on Wax Mask’s protean progress from the drawing board to the screen and providing fascinating insights into the proverbial “personal and professional differences” with which the Italian film scene is freighted. Argento talks of how his attitude towards Fulci developed from mistrust into “love” and opines that if he had lived, Wax Mask secondo Fulci would have been “wild”.  Anyone who was puzzled by Alan Jones’s critical volte face on Fulci after the early ’80s will find Jones’s comments here interesting. We also get some clues as to what a Fulci-directed Wax Mask might have looked like and Stivaletti rues the stick he got from the ol’ Goremeister’s fans (and allegedly his daughter Antonella) for coming up with something different. Not, perhaps, the most reasonable of criticisms. There’s also a trio of “behind the scenes” featurettes that you might have seen on previous DVD editions. If not, all the better.

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Two interesting facts about Robert Hossein (above) emerge from the supplementary materials assembled here. Firstly, that he actually appeared in productions of Pigalle’s legendary Theatre Du Grand Guignol and also that he is (at least by Argento’s reckoning) a total fanny magnet! David Gregory moderates a commentary track from Stivaletti and his son Michelangelo, who’s there to help Dad out with his English and point out his own, intra-uterine film debut.

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I’d dispute Severin’s billing of Wax Mask as “the last great Italian gore film of the 20th Century” but it’s a consistently watchable and entertaining one and the compelling extras on this disc, constituting a revelatory delight for the cognoscenti of pasta paura, turn it into an indispensible purchase. My copy came with a bonus CD of Abeni’s OST.

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The two FX men-turned-directors are pictured below during their triumphant recent appearances at Manchester’s ever wonderful Festival Of Fantastic Films.

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Sex Dwarf, Isn’t It Nasty? THE BEAST IN HEAT Reviewed

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BD. Severin. Region Free. Unrated.
(“The World Blu-Ray Premiere Of The Most Bizarre Nazisploitation Shocker Ever!”, no less…)

“Don’t spit on the plate from which you eat your dinner”, John Morghen once told me and while that’s eminently sensible advice vis-a-vis basic culinary hygiene, he was actually responding to my enquiry as to how he felt about being typecast as a series of mentally unstable grotesques. Somebody else who probably thanked God for typecasting (if possibly for very little else) was Salvatore Baccaro (1932-1984). Talent spotted outside a Roman film studio, working as a fruit and veg vendor (a role he plays, fleetingly, in Dario Argento’s Deep Red, 1975), Sal was never likely to be nominated for a Rondo award, unless it was one for the closest physical resemblance to Rondo Hatton (both suffered from the disfiguring condition acromegaly). Baccaro’s brutish features and sawn-off, barrel-like physique earned him 65 roles, many of which turned on the old “beauty and the beast” chestnut, either with gently ironic intent (he beds the exquisite Edwige Fenech in Sergio Martino’s 1976 portmanteau effort Sex With A Smile) or to rather more sinister effect…

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After appearances in, among others, Argento’s Five Days In Milan (1973), the 1974 Dick Randall monstrosity Frankenstein’s Castle Of Freaks (credited as “Boris Lugosi”, our boy played Ook The Neanderthal Man, above) then Jacopetti & Prosperi’s Mondo Candido (1975), Salvatore found his career-defining (though uncredited) role in Tinto Brass’s Salon Kitty (1976). Ramming home, with characteristic lack of subtlety, his message that the Nazis’ obsession with racial superiority made them infinitely more bestial than the “üntermensch” they so despised, Brass shows hookers for Hitler proving their loyalty to the Fuhrer by coupling with non-Aryan, disabled, deformed and otherwise “undesirable” prisoners. Sal features prominently as a randy retard. When I caught up with Salon Kitty courtesy of a University film society in the late ’70s, I counted more walk outs during this scene than for any other public screening of any film I’ve ever attended (though David Cronenberg’s Shivers ran it close).

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Not everybody was so turned off, though. In 1977 (a proper annus mirabilis for Signor Baccaro, who also appeared in Luigi Zampa’s The Monster, Luciano Martino’s Erotic Exploits Of A Sexy Seducer and Joe D’Amato’s notorious Emanuelle In America), Sal was called upon to briefly rehash that Salon Kitty role in Bruno Mattei’s xerox of the Brass film, SS Girls. Later in the year producer Roberto Pérez Moreno decided, for reasons over which we can only speculate, to expand the spectacle of Sal as mutant Nazi sex machine to feature length in Luigi Batzella (as “Ivan Kathansky”)’s once-seen-never-forgotten “The Beast In Heat – Horrifing (Sic) Experiments Of SS Final Days”. Well, half feature length, anyway…

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… footage from When The Bell Tolls, a partisan saga Batzella had directed (as “Paolo Solvay”) in 1970 was stitched in to provide some kind of context against which Salvatore (as “Sal Boris”… are you getting all this? I’ll be asking questions later) can spend the balance of the picture doing his inimitable thing, bonking any women unfortunate enough to be thrown into his cage (and sometimes eating their pubic hair), hamming it up in a Cosmo Smallpiece-like caricature of lust, mugging and smacking his lips into Batzella’s on-rushing zoom lens while all around him other overacting captives are sexually humiliated, tortured, castrated and fed to ravenous gerbils and guinea pigs, all of this presided over by sexy, mega-aphrodisiac wielding SS doctor Ellen Kratsch (Macha Magall, who’s also in Mattei’s SS Girls, not to mention Ken Dixon’s The Erotic Adventures Of Robinson Crusoe, 1975).

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Dr K seems very, er, enthusiastic about her work. Whereas Sal’s role in the Brass and (to a somewhat lesser extent) Mattei films seemed to be to blur the lines between the supposed “subhumans” and the übermensch who were stealing themselves to have it off with them, here he seems to be Doc’s pride and joy, an… er, end in himself, though it’s difficult to see exactly how his retarded rutting is supposed to further the cause of  Aryan racial supremacy. Clearly, Fraulein Kratsch has taken her eye off the prize. As Bruce Lee advises a kung fu novice during the opening scenes of Enter The Dragon: “It is like a finger pointing the way to the moon… don’t concentrate on the finger or you will miss all that heavenly glory”. Dr Kratsch is missing out on a shitload of heavenly glory here, though she appears to be having a whale of a time, all the same.

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When Batzella (who also edited this thing) finally manages to stitch the old and new footage together into some semblance of a climax, those partisans have very definite views on the Doc’s conduct. Not trusting in a malpractice hearing, they stuff her into Bonking Boris’ cage, exactly where we all knew she’d end up. Unfortunately the kill-joy guerillas shoot them both before the full measure of poetic justice can be meted out.

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Severin’s mission to rehabilitate as many official “video nasties” as possible continues unabated. They’ve done a characteristically splendid job on The Beast In Heat, a movie that’s rarely been topped for tastelessness but whose almost palpable absurdity would make it very difficult for anyone to take too much offence at it, aside from opportunistic muck rakers trying to start moral panics during the early ’80.

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In the featurette Nasty Nazi, Stephen Thrower, a dependably articulate commentator, struggles (as would anyone) to convey the tawdry ridiculousness of the whole affair and wonders how a dapper, urbane character such as Luigi Batzella (pictured above, right) could have been roped into it. I guess the answer is that he had bills to pay like everybody else. No doubt the same was true for The Beast’s OST composer Giuliano Sorgini, previously responsible for the sublime score to Jorge Grau’s masterly Living Dead At The Manchester Morgue (1974). Thrower suggests that TBIH was as much “inspired” by the dishonourable tradition of OTT Italian horror comics (“fumetti”) as by any cinematic antecedents which sets up an interesting feedback loop, given that such comic book fodder (see for instance the controversial case of IPC’s Action comic in the UK) often exists to feed a demand for rite of passage forbidden thrills from kids too young to sneak in and see adult-certified films.

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Of course you get a (French) trailer, plus Naomi Holwill’s exhaustive, alternately informative and amusing feature length SadicoNazista doc, Fascism On A Thread – The Strange Story of Nazisploitation Cinema. The aforementioned Giuliani Sorgini opens proceedings by declaring these films”the lowest of the low”. Other genre luminaries interviewed include directors Bruno Mattei, Sergio Garrone (SS Experiment Camp), Mario Caiano (Nazi Love Camp 27), Rino Di Silvestro (Deported Women Of The SS Special Section) and Liliana Cavani (who reveals that what worried Italian censors most about The Night Porter was the spectacle of Charlotte Rampling on top during sex). Night Porter writer Italo Moscati and Sergio D’Offizi (DP on Deported Women Of The SS Special Section) also have their say, along with actresses Melissa Longo (Salon Kitty and various French stabs at SadicoNazista) and Dyane Thorne (Ilsa herself… now an ordained minister!) plus her husband and collaborator Howard Maurer, along with commentators and academics including Mike Hostench from the Sitges Film Festival, Mikel J. Koven, Russ Hunter, Anthony Page, Kim Newman, Allan Bryce and the inevitable John Martin. Yep, it’s another winner from High Rising Productions.

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“Oh, the subhumanity!”

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

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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.

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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?

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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?

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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)…

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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.

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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!

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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.

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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.

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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?

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“There’s A Girl In My Soup!” “So What… There’s A Piranha Up My Arse!” CANNIBAL TERROR & Antonio Climati’s THE GREEN INFERNO On 88 Blu-ray.

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1) Don’t Torture A Turtle…

The Green Inferno. BD. Region Free. 88 Films. 15.

Although Eli Roth seemed to be paying his dues by including an Italian cannibal filmography in the credits for his Ruggero Deodato pastiche The Green Inferno, he conspicuously omitted from it the Antonio Climati picture whose title he had pinched. It’s a significant omission because Climati’s Green Inferno (originally released in Italy as Natura Contro in 1988) develops an ongoing argument about the moral dilemmas inextricably associated with The Italian Cannibal Film and the fact that this spilled over into something of an ongoing personal feud between Climati and Deodato makes the whole thing of more than mere academic interest…

The main thrust of this film’s plotting will be all too familiar to regular viewings of Italian man-munching epics, with Professor Korenz (Roberto Ricci) disappearing while on an expedition into the Amazon basin in search of the elusive Eema tribe. Jemma Demien (May Deseligny, who bears a vague, pleasing resemblance to Daria Nicolodi) is your mandatory sassy TV reporter (we’re introduced to when she reports on a head shrinking racket for the mondo-esque TV program “Reality Beyond Fantasy”) aiming to track down the Prof. Inexplicably, she decides to recruit Fred (Marco Merlo) and Mark (Fabrizio Merlo) to the cause. These shiftless sibling adventurers, whose allegedly endearing but actually highly irritating antics include TWOCing planes and driving ludicrously big-wheeled jeeps around, would be better qualified to present the next series of Top Gear… and that’s certainly not intended as a compliment.

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Before you can say “Yanomamo”, however, these good ol’ boys are accompanying Jemma into the jungle, together with their eccentric young scientist pal Pete (never embark on an Amazonian mission without one) played by Pio Maria Federici, who supplies a trumpet accompaniment to (and misconceived witticisms about) the unfolding “action” (if we can stretch a point and call it that). The perils they encounter include frog races, a tussle with an anaconda, attacks by ants, spiders and more of those ubiquitous spiky ball booby traps. Our heroes even have snakes held to their peckers by crime lords who want to find the Eema on account of their alleged inside information on the whereabouts of El Dorado (that old chestnut!) They  manage to break up an organ farming racket en route to their disappointing rendezvous with those Eema types and the discovery of the Professor, who promptly takes off in their plane with Jemma, stranding then so they won’t be able to give away the location of the tribe. “Well, we said we wanted adventure!” one of them quips, though thankfully viewers were spared any sequels. Maybe they never made it back?

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Ruggero Deodate was as fascinated and horrified as anybody by Gualtiero Jacopetti and Franco Prosperi’s epochal Mondo Cane (1962) and its shockumentary sequels. The deadly duo’s 1966 doc Africa Addio (which excites controversy to this day over the provenance of its animal and human death scenes) is often cited as the departure point for his devastating critique of Mondo mores in Cannibal Holocaust, but Deodato seems to have been more focussed, while constructing it, on a couple of mondos co-directed in the mid-70s by Antonio Climati (DP on both Mondo Cane and Africa Addio) and Mario Morra, another protegé of Jacopetti and Prosperi. The films in question were Savage Man, Savage Beast aka Ultime Grida Dalla Savana (“The Last Cries From The Savannah”, 1975)  and This Violent World aka Savage World / Mondo Violence (1976). Both feature the mandatory mix of violence inflicted on both animals and human beings (but how much of it is faked… and how worried should we be about the bits that aren’t?) This Violent World (“banned in 40 countries!”) seems to have registered particularly strongly with Deodato, to the extent that he restages two scenes from it (native women bathe a white man and seem fascinated by his penis / an episode of enforced abortion) in Cannibal Holocaust.

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Japanese poster for This Violent World.

By attempting to grab the Mondo moral high ground, Deodato was laying himself open to charges of having his cake and eating it. Certainly Climati, sensing that the finger was being pointed at him, took note of the animal abuse that litters Cannibal Holocaust and the nudge, nudge marketing which implied that its little known cast had indeed been eaten by cannibals and decided to lob a dissenting brick, in the shape of The Green Inferno, through the wall of Deodato’s cinematic glass house. That’s probably enough mixed metaphors for now…

Serving as his own DP (and making a predictably beautiful job of it, given his CV), Climati shot Contro Natura in the Colombian town Leticia, where Cannibal Holocaust (and also Umberto Lenzi’s coat-tail riding Cannibal Ferox, 1981) had been made. Returning a dubious favour, he copped the Green Inferno title  from a line in Holocaust and also went out of his way to stage scenes in which monkeys, coatis and turtles receive kind treatment at the hands of the protagonists… a very far cry, if not from the Savannah then  from the way in which comparable animals were treated during Deodato’s picture. You don’t have to abuse animals to make a mondo / cannibal picture, seemed to be Climati’s message and although he was a conspicuously late convert to this position, he seems to have won the historical argument, with Deodato and Sergio Martino now endorsing more animal friendly versions of Cannibal Holocaust and Prisoner Of The Cannibal God and Umberto Lenzi accepting (it’s clear that he never entertained any moral qualms on this score) a similarly softened variant of his Cannibal Ferox (all of these for Blu-ray release by Shameless). There are, it’s worth noting, restored shots of monkeys being hit with blow darts in The Green Inferno that had to be trimmed before Vipco got their ’15’ certificate (for a DVD release opportunistically entitled Cannibal Holocaust II) in 2002. There is no record of how a small fish (allegedly a piranha) felt about swimming up and being pulled out of a native porter’s arse.

Bonus materials include a limited edition glossy slip case and booklet with notes by Italian pundit Francesco Massaccesi (these if you buy early enough), remastered trailer, reversible sleeve and Italian opening / closing credits. Most worthy of your attention is Eugenio Ercolani and Giuliano Emanuele’s documentary Scenes From Banned Alive: The Rise And Fall Of The Italian Cannibal Movie, in which Umberto Lenzi, Ruggero Deodato and Sergio Martino are interviewed about their efforts in this particularly blood stained filone. There have been several documentary investigations of this area in recent years (most of them by the UK’s High Rising Productions) but it’s interesting to see a native Italian take on the Phenom. We’d heard that Lenzi and Deodato buried the hatchet before Lenzi’s death but there’s a significant amount of low-level niggling here, though the notoriously irascible Lenzi reserves  most of his ire for stoking another ongoing feud, with Ferox star “John Morghen” aka Giovanni Lombardo Radice. Modest as ever, Lenzi declares the decapitation of Johnny in that film “a stroke of directorial genius!” Steady on

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2) … and among the nominees for best screen dialogue, H.L. Rostaine and Ilona Kunesova…

Cannibal Terror. BD. Region B. 88 Films. 18.

“Can’t you open the fucking door?”

“Shit… oh shit.”

“Shit… what are you doing?”

“Shit… oh shit.”

“Fuck… oh fuck it! No fucking idiot could get that door open… made me look a fucking fool!”

… but seriously folks, “Allan W. Steeve”s Cannibal Terror was never nominated for and certainly never received any Oscars, the only accolade it ever actually managed being a place on the DPP’s official “Video Nasties” list. Because, in our youth, we prided ourselves on our consumption of Forbidden fruits, this was just one of the many cinematic atrocities to which we anal retentive types willingly subjected ourselves, back in the day. Now it’s back on our shelves courtesy of 88 Films, certified ’18’ and in an HD restoration that makes it look whole a lot better than it probably ever had a right to look….

The swear fest we just heard comes courtesy of some kidnappers who abduct a child and secrete it in a safe house, in the depths of some jungle or other, while the ransom is sorted out. Their jungle guide advises them that cannibals lurk behind every bush. “They’d love to put you in the soup” she warns “but if we don’t stop, there’s no sweat.” As it happens, there’s perspiration aplenty when their jeep breaks down. Disregarding her own warnings, the guide wanders off into the undergrowth and is promptly ambushed by the locals who, it has to be said, present a less than convincing spectacle…

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Frighteningly authentic Amazonian cannibals. Yesterday.

The “cannibals” (who seem more interested in playing tug-of-war with her raw intestines than actually eating them… understandably enough) overact shamelessly, grinning like loons as they brandish fistfuls of guts at the camera. I get that these extras are no more trained actors than they are genuine South American natives, but couldn’t their pantomime excesses have been a bit more skillfully edited? Apparently not. Further ineptitude in this department ensures plenty of shots of people standing around waiting for cues and gawping aimlessly into space. The magic of the movies, eh?

Despite the loss of their guide the kidnappers make it to the jungle safe-house, and no sooner has their host gone away on a business trip than one of these desperadoes ties his wife to a tree and rapes her (a feat he accomplishes without dropping or even unzipping his trousers). When hubby gets home he takes his guests on a hunting trip, ties the rapist to the very tree against which he had performed this violation and gives a sharp whistle, which is apparently the cannibal equivalent of a dinner gong. The rapist is eaten and his partners in crime tied to poles and carried off to the native village, where they are given the Cannibal Holocaust treatment while the kidnapped kid is led off to play in a cannibal kintergarten. By the time the parents arrive, acting on a hot tip-off, there’s not much left of the ’nappers. “The gangsters got all the punishment they deserved”, the tribal chief assures them, indicating what is supposed to be the severed head of the baddy-in-chief, blinking visibly as he pokes his head through a bit of scenery. “He got all the pain and suffering that was coming to him.” So did anyone who’s ever sat through Cannibal Terror…

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In possible mitigation, those bemused by the absence of any actual cannibalism in Climati’s Green Inferno will find buckets of palpably phony gore here. Cannibal Terror is similarly devoid of violence against animals, though…  at least on-screen (all those innards had to come from somewhere, I guess). Since his days as one of the DPP’s least favourite directors, “Allan W. Steeve” has been outed as an unholy combination of Alain Deruelle and Julio Pérez Tabernero… Jess Franco’s alleged participation in the project has now been ruled out, though apparently Franco acolyte Olivier Mathot (who also appears in the picture as “Monsieur Danville”) directed certain scenes. Sabrina Siani contributes her characteristic combination of significant eye candy and infinitesimal acting talent.

Perhaps we’ll discover some redemptive element in this disc’s bonus materials? Well, aside from a trailer and deleted “erotic” dancing scene with which you might already be regretfully familiar from Severin’s earlier edition of Cannibal Terror, there’s Naomi Holwill’s documentary That’s Not The Amazon! – The Strange Story of the Eurocine Cannibal Film Cycle, in which assembled pundits Allan Bryce, Mikel Koven, John Martin and Calum Waddell (plus cast member Antonio Mayans, who admits it wasn’t always easy to remember which film he was supposed to be acting in at any given moment) attempt to elicit a few laughs from the amateurish anthropophagic efforts that the Lasoeur family were churning out in the late ’70s and early ’80s. Martin summarises the guiding principles of Eurociné’s cannibal dabblings thus: “If you’ve got a bucket of offal and you can stuff it up somebody’s jumper then pull it out again and if you can film in a park somewhere and pretend it’s the Amazon basin, then you’ve got yourself a movie”, further characterising these films as “shoddily executed”… and who am I to contradict the sartorially splendid but increasingly gnarled looking doyen of dodgy film criticism?

As time marches on, those who haven’t seen Cannibal Terror and many of its DPP list-mates might be unclear about exactly what is was that our moral guardians had in their cross hairs during the early ’80s when they predicted the imminent collapse of Civilisation. If that’s you, prepare to be gob smacked!

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Alienated With Extreme Prejudice… And Can You Put Some Chilli Sauce On That? Shedding Light On SHOCKING DARK.

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BD. Severin. Region Free. Unrated.

“Can’t you smell that stink of shit?” Geretta Giancarlo Field.

The last time we embarked on a Severinian binge here at THOF we were up to our asses in Bruno Mattei / Claudio Fragasso monstrosities but in a rare display of trash film fallibility, we managed to miss this one. It seemed only right, therefore (and even more appropriate in light of the film’s increasingly relevant and no-doubt sincerely heartfelt ecological concerns) to kick-start our Several Days Of Severin with a look at Mattei’s Shocking Dark (1989), billed by the Sevsters themselves (who certainly know a thing or two about this stuff) as “the most infamous mash-up in Eurosleaze history!”

Never known for their reluctance to pad out a film with stock footage, Mattei and writer Fragasso (billed here under their sho’nuff “Vincent Dawn” and “Clyde Anderson” aliases… in fact Fragasso’s identified as “Clayde” Anderson this time out) commence the proceedings with travelogue shots of Venice while some voice over schmuck wonders what the ravages of pollution will have done to it by the turn of the Millennium… and indeed, who could possibly have predicted that it would be an abandoned wasteland, under the ruins of which elite Marine units battle it out with mutant aliens and time travelling cyborgs? Anybody who’s ever watched a Mattei and / or Fragasso flick before, that’s who! Altogether, now: “Just one gorenetto, give it to me…”

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Though Demons’ Geretta Geretta (billed under the altogether more feasible handle of Geretta Giancarlo Field) and her fellow grunts from Operation Delta Venice Megaforce try hard to emulate the ruffty-tuffty troupers in James Cameron’s Aliens (did I mention yet that Shocking Dark owes rather a lot to Aliens? How remiss of me!) in truth they look more like refugees from a gay porn movie… and not a particularly macho one, either, the way they squeal and blurt every time one of those aliens (which resemble nothing so much as ambulatory kebabs and prove disappointingly easy to gun down) hoves into view.

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Ms Geretta is always agreeably sassy in these things (in 1984 she had graced Mattei and Fragasso’s hysterical Rats: Night Of Terror, of course) but unfortunately she gets killed off relatively early in Shocking Dark, before she can celebrate a heart-warming reconciliation over a hand grenade with the Italian guy she’s spent most of her screen time racially abusing. Otherwise, all of your favourite Aliens scenes are recreated in predictably am-dram fashion… Dr Sarah Drumbull (Haven Tyler in her only screen credit) as the Ripley figure even manages to rescue and bond with Newt surrogate Samantha Raphelson (the similarly uni-credited Dominica Coulson).

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Clive Riche, in contrast to both of those ladies, has kept commendably busy since making his debut here… Christ knows how, given his ripe overacting (one of his more subdued moments, below) as “Drake”, a character driven mad by his earlier run in with the kebab creatures.

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Christopher Ahrens is Samuel Fuller (!), an all-purpose kung fu special forces dude who’s along for the ride to represent the interests of the sinister and corrupt Tubular Corporation (!!), whose property speculation scam and clandestine chemical / bacteriological weapon tests (“cybernetics applied on a molecular basis”) devastated Venice in the first place. Fuller is ultimately revealed as part Ash from Alien, part Terminator (as if his increasingly Arnie-esque tones hadn’t already tipped you off) and is even described as a Replicant… so Mattei and Fragasso have managed to stir a pinch of Blade Runner into this indigestible concoction, too.

“I’m immortal… the most perfect (sic) thing ever created by the Tubular Corporation” announces cybernetic Sammy as Drumbull and Raphelson scramble to escape a nuclear reactor (did I forget to mention the nuclear reactor?) facility that will self-destruct (you guessed) in T-10 minutes. Just as their time is about to elapse, the girls happen upon a time machine (what were the odds on that?) which takes them back to the present day (or the tail end of the 20th Century, anyway) where Fuller follows them for a twist ending that will rip a new asshole in your space / time continuum.

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Much as I love those Severin boys, I’d have to take issue with their assessment of Shocking Dark as “the most infamous mash-up in Eurosleaze history!” It’s an admittedly awesome Italo-schlock milestone but throughout it I get the sense of a director building himself up to such mashed masterpieces as 2004’s Land Of Death (“Cannibal Holocaust meets Predator”) and his 2007 swan-song “everything but the kitchen sink… hang on, there’s a kitchen sink in there as well” zombie brace Island Of The Living Dead and Zombies – The Beginning.

Also known (before James Cameron’s lawyers got wind of it) as Aliens 2, Alienators and Contaminator, initial orders of Shocking Dark were dispatched by Severin in “an extremely unofficial limited edition (Terminator 2) slipcover that will be available until a cease and desist arrives”. Punters picking up that edition might well have been in for a nasty surprise, though I guess if you’re reading this blog you would have been hip to the gag…

Extras include another chunk of Severin’s ongoing interview with co-writers Fragasso and his missus Rossella Drudi (remembering their final collaboration with Bruno Mattei) and a characteristically lively audience with Geretta Geretta / whatever her bloody name is. Plus alternative Italian Titles.

Looking for the perfect junk movie to accompany a late night fast food binge? Naan better than Bruno Mattei’s Shocking Dark…

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“Here’s A Bit Of A Scoop For You…” The ALDO LADO (Micro)Interview

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Calum Waddell’s presence at Manchester’s 29th Festival Of Fantastic Films (introducing and conducting stage interviews with some of its star guests) afforded us the opportunity to hook up and shoot some stuff that will hopefully be appearing in featurettes for several releases you might be enjoying in the near future. During my flying visit on Saturday 27th October it was a pleasure to catch up with some old (and getting older) mates, say hi to Luigi Cozzi and finally meet Aldo Lado, who has directed some of the darkest, most troubling and subversive entries in the Italian B-movie tradition. Thanks are due to Gil Lane Young for graciously allowing me to attend the director’s Q&A session, during which we managed the following brief exchange…

Signor Lado, is it true or just a rumour that you made an unacknowledged contribution to the writing of Argento’s The Bird With The Crystal Plumage?

I haven’t said much about this for the last forty years but now I feel like talking about it, so here’s a bit of a scoop for you… I was working as AD on a film produced by Dario’s father, Salvatore. Dario talked to me about ideas he was considering for his first film. He gave me the book he wanted to adapt and asked me what I thought of it.

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After I read it I told him that frankly I didn’t think very much of it but that there was something in there which would translate very well into a film, i.e the idea of the killings being seen from the killer’s point of view. So we worked together on a treatment of the film, until I was called away to assist on a Western in Spain (Presumably Sergio Bergonzelli’s Colt In The Hand Of The Devil – BF.) When I came back, he was making The Bird With The Crystal Plumage, featuring all these POV shots that would become “his trademark” and it was being presented as something that he had dreamed up all by himself, with no mention of me whatsoever. Dario built a very successful career on the back of that film and if he’d acknowledged me, it would have opened a lot of doors for me, too. So now I regard him as my sworn enemy, because why would you treat somebody like that unless they were your enemy?

(SPOILER ALERT!!!) At the climax of your brilliant giallo Who Saw Her Die (1972) it’s revealed that the child killer is a priest but the film ends with a hastily dubbed line, right out of the blue, to the effect that he wasn’t a real priest, just somebody who dressed like one… was this ending imposed on you by the censors?

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Yes. You have to realise what a Catholic country Italy was in those days and how much power was wielded by the Church. The producers told me either we insert this false ending or the film will not be distributed, it was as simple as that. If you know me, you’ll have no doubt whatsoever what my attitude towards this was. I’ve been saying for decades that one day the truth will come out about all this sexual abuse in the Church and look where we are today…

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At the start of your career you were part of the circle around such heavyweight Arthouse directors as Pasolini and Bertolucci (whom you assisted on The Conformist, 1970)… is it fair to say that with your films you’ve carried on their tradition of social comment and criticism but in the idiom of a more popular / commercial Cinema?

Yes, I was part of that circle. All of those directors had important things to say about our society and I had things I wanted to say, too. One of them was inspired by something I read, when I was about 12 or 13, in a book by a Czech author… I forget his name. He said that everybody is actually two people… the person they present to society and their other, more authentic self.

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So in a lot of my films you see these people who are outwardly respectable but that’s not the whole story. People are judged by their outward appearance so we see that rich people and poor people who commit very similar crimes are treated very differently.

I wonder if you can tell us something about the film you made that was based on the notorious case of Japan’s “celebrity cannibal”, Issei Sagawa…

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Was that one of mine? Oh yes, Ritual Of Love (1989) was loosely based on that case. To me, it’s a love story. You know that in Italy, when people express their love for their grandchildren, they often say things like: “You’re so sweet, I could eat you up!” Well, this is a story about a man who is so much in love with a woman that he wants to eat her… and she is so in love with him that she wants to be eaten by him! I’m putting together a book in which I expand upon the ideas of this film and other films I have made, also films that I will never get to make. I think that you would find it very interesting… 

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… I think so, too. Again, I’d like to express my sincere thanks to Gil and all the folks from Manchester’s ever-fabulous Festival Of Fantastic Films, for letting me in… to Calum Waddell and Naomi Holwill, whose Lado documentary I’m eagerly anticipating… and to Nick Frame, for stalwart translation services. It was good to see so many friends. 

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Aldo Lado + High Rising team = essential doc in the making.

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The Gates Of Delirium… Fulci’s CITY OF THE LIVING DEAD on 4k.

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Ol’ Purple Eyes is back…

BD. Arrow. Region B. 18.

City Of The Living Dead (1980), initiating Lucio Fulci’s celebrated “Gates Of Hell trilogy”, was only his second Horror film and clearly evidences the crash course in H.P. Lovecraft recommended to him by co-writer Dardanno Sachetti after their collaboration on that unexpected international box office champ, Zombie Flesh Eaters (1979).

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Evil New England clergyman Father Thomas (Fabrizio Jovine) hangs himself in a Dunwich cemetery, thereby opening the very Gates of Hell (the initial manifestation of which is a bunch of grungey zombies clawing their way out of their graves). All of this is witnessed by psychic Mary Woodhouse (Catriona MacColl) during a drug crazed seance in New York City, resulting in convulsions and her apparent death. Presiding medium The Great Theresa (Adelaide Asti), an authority on The Book Of Enoch, warns the investigating cops that “at this very precise moment, in some other distant place, horrendously awful things are happening… things that would shatter your imagination!” 

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After Mary’s been rescued from living internment by bibulous hack reporter Peter Bell (Christopher George), they set off for Dunwich, intent on closing those Gates Of Hell before All Saints Day, when Hell’s dominion over the Earth will be irreversibly completed. Hooking up with Dunwich psychiatrist Gerry (Carlo De Mejo) and his patient Sandra (Janet Agren), they learn that Theresa wasn’t bullshitting about those “horrendously awful” things, principle among which are the gruesome demises of genre icons Daniela Doria (who vomits up her entire gastro-intestinal tract), Michele Soavi (skull ripped off) and (as misunderstood vagrant sex-case Bob) John Morghen, who gets treated to an impromptu spot of amateur brain surgery by a red neck vigilante. Penetrating the bowels of Dunwich cemetery (and indeed of Father Thomas himself), the surviving protagonists Mary and Gerry save the day… or do they? Your guess is as good as mine, on the strength of COTLD’s proverbially baffling conclusion.

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This film has already appeared in so many editions (several from Arrow alone) that the above synopsis is probably superfluous, though one entertains the hope that it might galvanise some new viewer, in some other distant place, into connecting with the imaginationshattering milieu of Lucio Fulci, much as Alan Jones’ accounts of these films in Starburst magazine galvanised Your Truly, oh so many years ago. What’s important these days, I guess, with each successive reissue, is the quality of both the film transfer and any supplementary materials. Subjecting the negative of a 1980 film to 4k scanning, while shedding further, er, light on the subtleties of DP Sergio Salavati’s handiwork, is arguably an upgrade too far in terms of ramping up screen grain... you pays your twenty quid and you takes your choice. Sound wise, we’re offered the usual language alternatives and a 5.1 option… Arrow’s previous steel box edition offered 7.1 but I’m not certain that my home set up (nor those of most people) extracted any discernible benefit from that anyway… suffice to say Fabio Frizzi’s celebrated score fair throbs from the speakers this time out.

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The pizza girl’s here…

It’s the sheer breadth and depth of its extras that ultimately promote this City Of The Living Dead from a debatable purchase to an indispensable one. You’ll already be familiar with some of those… audio commentaries from Catriona MacColl and John Morghen (the latter moderated by Calum Waddell) and Waddell’s video interview with Carlo De Mejo… from previous editions. The disc is creaking with a veritable cemetery load of cracking new stuff, though… Stephen Thrower’s take on these films is always worth listening to and here he challenges the received wisdom that Fulci couldn’t get a gig after the success of Zombie Flesh Eaters (what’s indisputable is that producer Fabrizio De Angelis was slow to see the possibilities and continued to think small even after he did reconvene with Fulci). For once Thrower’s presentation, as diligently researched and passionately felt as ever, takes a back seat, given the wealth of primary sources testifying on this set. Among the most compelling is a lengthy new interview with Dardano Sacchetti, in which the irascible writer pursues his familiar theme of De Angelis’ short-sightedness while throwing out all manner of interesting insights re what was going on behind the scenes. Never one to hold back on his opinions, it would seem that Signor Sacchetti is not the biggest fan of Catriona MacColl. 

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“Oui, whatever…”

MacColl herself is duly interviewed, sounding a lot more French than I remember from my own encounter with her (then again that was nearly 25 years ago and she’s spent the intervening quarter Century living in Paris)… interesting  to hear that when she wasn’t being buried alive and showered with maggots, Catriona was required to dub and scream over multiple takes of the same shots, prior to the definitive editorial decisions being taken. 

Camera operator Roberto Forges Davanzati talks, among other things, about the difficulties of making sunny Savannah, Georgia look like an autumnal New England location, neatly illustrated by his private “behind the scenes” 8mm footage, for which he also supplies an audio commentary. Production designer Massimo Antonello Geleng also talks about “the Savannah problem” and his own difficulties breaking the ice with Fulci, after having been parachuted in by producers Medusa over the director’s original pick, Massimo Lentini. Fulci’s misgivings were predictably assuaged by Geleng’s amazing work on this picture.

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Cinematographer Sergio Salvati clearly loved Fulci but acknowledges and regrets the director’s sadistic treatment of some of his actresses… also his overuse of the zoom lens. As an unexpected bonus, Salvati supplies some fascinating incidental revelations about how The Beyond’s stunning denouement was contrived, against all the odds, in the face of producer De Angelis’s constant budget cutting.

Giovanni Lombardo Radice / John Morghen (these days sporting a beard of Biblical proportions) reiterates that he never had any problems with Fulci but confesses that he’s never been able to watch Daniela Doria’death scene all the way throughGino “Bombardon” De Rossi talks us through that and several other of his gory FX tours de force for City Of The Living Dead et al. He also mentions the prank played on Fulci, referenced by several of the participants in these featurettes, by which maggots were placed in the ol’ goremeister’s pipe. De Rossi initially got the blame for this, but turns out the culprit was actually Christopher George, who obviously figured that one good maggotty turn deserved another.

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Father and son acting team Venantino and Luca (“Jon Jon”) Venantini recall their experiences on the picture, which have become somewhat sanitised in the telling, compared to the version they offered in Mike Baronas’ documentary Paura: Lucio Fulci Remembered. Venantino, clearly still very much a character in his late ’80s, now resembles an over-baked spud. Luca’s obvious love and concern for his dad make for touching viewing. There’s also a previously unseen interview with Fulci’s go-to OST man Fabio Frizzi, who suggests that Fulci’s personal sufferings made him a person of substance.

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Fulci fan boy Andy (Ghost Stories) Nyman, though obviously not a member of the inner circle, recounts his encounters with Giannetto De Rossi and Richard Johnson in appropriately enthusiastic style and the ubiquitous Kat Ellinger contributes another of these here video essays, concerning Fulci and his seminal role in the busy Italian zombie cycle.

Among the more predictable extras are the alternative US “Gates of Hell” credits sequence and assorted trailers and radio spots. The extensive image gallery features over 150 stills, posters and other ephemera from the FAB Press and Mike Siegel archives. You also get reversible sleeve options (choose between Charles Hamm and pals in all their original glory and newly commissioned artwork by Wes Benscoter), a double-sided fold-out poster and 6 lobby card reproductions. As usual we HOF drones haven’t set eyes on that stuff yet, nor the limited edition 60-page booklet featuring new writing by Travis Crawford and Roberto Curti, an archival interview with Fulci and contemporary reviews.

Just make sure you grab your copy before All Saints Day, or there’ll be Hell to pay…

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Do You Like Pina Colada? LADY FRANKENSTEIN Restored on Nucleus BD.

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BD. Nucleus. Region B. 15.

Legend has it that a woman once took out a Lonely Hearts ad, seeking “a man with the brain of Leonard Cohen and the body of Iggy Pop”. An assignation was duly arranged and when she arrived at the predetermined rendezvous, who should be there waiting for her, but… Leonard Cohen and Iggy Pop! And no doubt a fun time was had by all. It’s an apocryphal story which I rather wish was true (Cohen himself attested to its veracity)… it certainly packs a better punch line than Rupert Hine’s Escape (The Pina Colada Song).

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“If you’re not into yoga / If you have half a brain…”

In Mel Welles’ Lady Frankenstein 1971, Rosalba Neri’s title character (who also answers to the name of Tania) has a similar vision of her dream man, radical ideas about how to  transform him into fleshy reality and the family know-how required to pull it off. She transplants the brilliant brain of her father’s homely looking, crippled assistant Charles (Paul Muller, from a million Jess Franco flicks) into the hunky body of the family’s retarded servant Tom (Marino Masé) to make “the kind of man (she) could really love!” Tom’s contribution to the plan is entirely involuntary (Charles smothers him with a pillow while Lady F is astride him… more on this later) but Charles himself is an all-too-willing participant (in my favourite line, he informs Tania, while she’s preparing to transplant his brain into Tom, that she “can’t change (her) mind”!) The operation proves a resounding success and scarcely hours after its completion, Charles-in-Tom is giving her Ladyship a vigorous seeing too.

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Unfortunately, they’re not left to enjoy their erotic idyll for long. Tanya’s illustrious father (Joseph Cotten, inaugurating an Italian run that would also see him starring in Mario Bava’s Baron Blood, 1972 and Umberto Lenzi’s Syndicate Sadists, 1975) has already been killed by one of his less successful creations and now that monster (Peter Whiteman in a crude Carlo Rambaldi make up job that makes his head look like a septic bell end) is on the rampage in the local countryside, offing the grave-diggers (including career Eurocreep Herbert Fux) who resurrected its various bodily parts, interrupting moments of al-fresco coitus and throwing random naked chicks into rivers… he’s kind to children, though. The ineffectual investigations of Police Chief Harris (Mickey Hargitay) leading nowhere, a crowd of firebrand and pitchfork-clutching yokels is soon besieging Castle Frankenstein, none of which stops Lady F and her toy-boy creation from fornicating away happily as the flames gather all around them, until our over sexed anti-heroine gets her just desserts in an unexpected and rather abrupt denouement.

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Ever since James Whale’s Bride Of Frankenstein (1935), various members of that cursed clan have been seeking to mate their monsters. Udo Kier’s Baron (who could also call on the services of Carlo Rambaldi) had something like this in mind for his “zarmbies” in the Morrissey / Margheriti Flesh For Frankenstein (1973) but couldn’t resist molesting them himself (with hil-arious consequences!) Rosalba Neri’s Tania Frankenstein  beat Udo to it by two years and never, er, made any bones about the ultimate amorous aim of her surgical exploits. Billed, as she was in many of her Italian productions as Sara / Sarah Bay (on the grounds that this would allegedly put more bums on domestic cinema seats… but who in their right mind wouldn’t want to watch her, under any name?), Neri proves here, as she did in Joe D’Amato / Luigi’s Full Moon Of The Virgins (1973) that she could, when given a role to get her teeth into, be so much more than “the poor man’s Edwige Fenech”.

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“Behind every great man…”

Nucleus’ Marc Morris and Jake West are themselves Frankenstein figures, in their own kind of way… men on an obsessive mission to bring you beautiful uncut restorations of films that have, since VHS / “video nasty” / fanzine days, only been available in the UK as shortened theatrical prints and crummy looking, similarly incomplete, nth generation video dubs. I recall watching Lady Frankenstein in (I think) 16mm during a memorable Manchester Fantastic Films Society all-niter entitled Terror Among The Tombs in the late ’80s (actually I don’t remember very much at all about that night, throughout which inadvisable quantities of Wild Turkey were quaffed). But here we are in 2018. Sceptics said it couldn’t be done… moralists said it shouldn’t... now here it is, Lady Frankenstein as a gorgeous looking limited edition in Nucleus’ “European Cult Cinema Collection”…

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This lush-looking 2k scan from the original negative shows exactly how much bang Welles and his DP Riccardo Pallottini got for their buck from Castello Piccolomini, Balsorano. When confined to De Paolis studio… well, Masé will have recognised that staircase set when he encountered it again, suitably redressed, in Lugi Cozzi’s Contamination (1980). Sharp-eyed viewers might also remember it from films as diverse in quality as Argento’s Inferno (also 1980) and Andrea Bianchi’s Burial Ground (1981).

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Amid the bonus materials on offer here you get the predictable selection of trailers, TV and radio spots, home video sleeves and image galleries… all well and good, but whereas some distributors would leave it at that, Nucleus pile on the goodies. New World’s theatrical cut, reduced to 84 minutes so that Roger Corman could slot it onto more double bills, has been as lovingly restored as the 99 minute Director’s Cut. There’s an audio commentary from Alan Jones and Kim Newman, a reproduction of the contemporary Photo Novel that appeared in Italy’s Bigfilm magazine and three excellent featurettes. The Truth About Lady Frankenstein is a 2007 German TV Special featuring interviews with director Welles, star Neri and Herbert Fux, who reacts to his first ever viewing of the film. We learn more about the astonishing life and career of Mel Welles from his posthumous contribution to Piecing Together Lady Frankenstein, an all new doc presented by Julian Grainger. The Lady and The Orgy is a short but revelatory investigation of Welles’ activities in Australia, where he (under the guise of “Satan’s Prime Minister”) presented Lady Frankenstein as the centre piece of a multi-media grand guignol “Spook Show” review.

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I particularly enjoyed the breakdown of the BBFC’s demands for cuts to the film’s 1972 theatrical run in the UK. The chopping off of Monster #1’s arm had to go and two scenes juxtaposing death with sexual desire were cut to the bone, namely the film’s frenzied, fiery finale and Tom’s fatal coupling with Lady F. The latter, which the BBFC have now sanctioned in all its gaudy glory, is one of the kinkiest set-ups in exploitation film history, with Tom’s death throes pushing Her Ladyship over the orgasmic edge while Charles, busy suffocating Tom, can scarcely conceal his jealous torment over the unfolding spectacle. (*) Amazing stuff in an astounding release that could have been a shoe-in for our “Top Disc Of 2018” accolade, were it not for the fact that its companion piece in that Cult Cinema Collection, Giulio Questi’s 1968 anti-giallo Death Laid An Egg (review coming to these pages imminently) is, improbably, even better!

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(*) The BBFC, often accused of applying double standards for the industry big boys and small-fry exploitation distributors, have played admirably fair in this regard. Twenty-four years after their exposure to Lady Frankenstein, The Board insisted on diluting Famke Janssen’s comparably mantis-like take on the mating game in the Bond flick Goldeneye.

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Making Love On The Wing… EMANUELLE AND THE LAST CANNIBALS On Severin Blu-Ray

00000EMANUELLEANDTHELASTCANNIBALSLC2ws.jpgBD/CD. Severin. Region Free. Unrated.

Emanuelle And The Last Cannibals aka Trap Them And Kill Them (1976) is generally regarded (though sketchy information on shooting schedules and subsequent retitlings confuse the issue) as Joe D’Amato’s fourth “Black Emanuelle” effort, after he’d hi-jacked the franchise from Adalberto Albertini. It’s also Joe’s maiden co-production with Fabrizio De Angelis for their company Fulvia Cinematografica, though the partnership only survived for one more film (1978’s Emanuelle And The White Slave Trade).

This improbable yarn is presented as “a true story” courtesy of one Jennifer O’Sullivan, whose investigative reporter role is taken on by Gemser’s Emanuelle, which involves her in sneaking around mental hospitals with a camera concealed in a teddy bear (?) She comes over all tabloid moralistic when a nurse is bitten while molesting a disturbed female patient (“She’ll be OK but she lost her breast… she had it coming”) but has no qualms whatsoever about pursuing a scoop by masturbating the same patient (Dirce Funari), who boasts a distinctive tribal tattoo on her pubic area. When she mentions this to hunky anthropologist Mark Lester (!) he invites her back to his place but not with the intention of showing her his etchings… oh no, he shows her anthropological footage of castration and cannibalism, which somehow convinces her to sleep with him. The Prof is played by Gemser’s husband and frequent screen partner Gabriele Tinti and I often wonder if that’s how he wooed her in real life! It would be useful to know such stuff…

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I’m told that Ruggero Deodato got really pissed off, when he watched Calum Waddell’s Eaten Alive documentary, at my suggestion that D’Amato pre-empted his Cannibal Holocaust here with the use of the film-within-a-film device and by setting the action of E&TLC in South America (even though his crew never got anywhere near there)… no disrespect intended, Ruggero but hey, facts is facts!

Anyway, Emanuelle successfully seduced, she and The Prof abscond to Tapurucuara, Amazons (actually the Fogliano Forest on the outskirts of Rome… honestly Joe, you are a one!) to hook up with Donald and Maggie McKenzie (Donal O’Brien and giallo stalwart “Susan Scott” / Nieves Navarro), who are encountering a few difficulties in their relationship (“You’re just a tramp!” he chides her. “You’re an IMPOTENT!” she spits back, cuttingly albeit ungrammatically). Annamaria Clementi (as the idealistic nun Sister Angela) and Mónica Zanchi (as the nymphomaniac Isabelle) have also packed their pith helmets for the expedition.

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These guys’ soap operatic interactions are put firmly into perspective when the cannibals turn up to dismember and eat them and various camp followers, all recorded in excruciating albeit incompetently rendered detail by D’Amato, to the accompaniment of an OST that sounds like some demented, retarded ancestor of Groovejet. Of course, various people take time out from dodging cannibals to have sex and watch each other having sex and only in a Joe D’Amato film could you ever hope to see a lesbian tryst observed by a chimpanzee who’s savouring the spectacle while puffing away contentedly on a Marlboro… you can finally cross that one off your bucket list!

The denouement is a total hoot, with Emanuele and The Prof looking on from the bushes, calmly swapping anthropological observations as their friends are done away with (O’Brien torn limb from limb, particularly unconvincingly, in a cannibal tug-o-war). Eventually Emanuelle’s moved to discard her clothes and rescue Isabelle by impersonating a water goddess, a spectacle that has to be seen to be disbelieved… likewise Gemser’s lumpen closing soliloquy, delivered as though she’s in the throes of a major stroke  (“Maggie and Donald with their…” what, now?) I guessed those who dubbed this scene must take their share of the blame, though Gemser makes for a truly statuesque (in every sense of that term) presence throughout the film’s alleged climax and indeed, everything that precedes it.

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Emanuelle And The Last Cannibals did enjoy a theatrical release in the UK (minus all the gore), playing to packed houses of old guys in dirty macs. Severin’s release is, as you would expect, uncut, though one imagines there could well be versions floating around in some territories that have been recut with hard-core inserts, standard operating procedure for D’Amato. Their 2K scan from original vault elements is the best I’ve ever seen this film to look, even though the improved picture quality does make the stroboscopic alternation of day and night shots within certain scenes even more obvious (the amount of times the characters say something along the lines of “We’ll wait until dawn” with the sun beating down on them!) 

Severin have put together a really strong slate of extras here, reflecting the kind of colourful characters that used to gravitate towards Joe D’Amato productions. Aside from the predictable trailer you get an audio interview with Gemser, from whose reminiscences it’s clear how much she misses the late director. In the video interviews, Monica Zanchi remembers her wild life and times and the fun she had on D’Amato shoots. Annamaria Clementi also seems to have had a ball but now, working as a casting director, she reflects rather ruefully on missed opportunities. Nico Fidenco (who looks like he’s just stepped off the deck of a luxury yacht) recounts the improbable career trajectory that took him from failed director, via unlikely crooning idol to OST composer. Best of all, Donal O’Brien piles on the anecdotes in an opinionated “must see” memoir. My copy included a CD of the original soundtrack, too. Great stuff!

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Where Is Thy Sting? ZOMBI 4 On Severin Blu-Ray.

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BD/CD. Severin. Region Free. Unrated.

“If you want to open the door to Hell today, these four words you must say…”

“Why are you stopping at the best part?”

The Fulci / Mattei / Fragasso Zombi 3 (1988), recently reviewed in these pages, wasn’t the only Latin living dead epic laying claim to that title… Andrea Bianchi’s astonishing Burial Ground / Zombi Terror / Nights Of Terror (1981) got there first and Jorge Grau’s even more prodigiously multi-titled Living Dead At The Manchester Morgue (1974) was at one point, via some inscrutable worm hole in the space / time continuum, deemed to be a sequel to a George Romero film made five years after it. Romero was presumably happy enough with his own “Dead” series and anyway, Dawn Of The Dead co-producer Dario Argento’s attempts to quell the flow of ersatz sequels fell at the first legal hurdle, with Lucio Fulci’s Zombi 2 (1979). Thereafter Fulci’s participation in the Guadenzi-produced Zombi 3 granted that film and its successors some kind of “official bootleg series” imprimatur, right up to Claudio Lattanzi’s Killing Birds (1987) being rechristened Zombi 5. Thankfully, we’re not concerned with the last-named clinker this time out, turning our attention instead to Fragasso’s Zombi 4, originally released (in 1989 according to IMDB, though this is disputed) as After Death (“Oltre La Morte”).

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For this one Fragasso, again masquerading as “Clyde Anderson”, was back in the Philippines with a specific brief to come up with something that might recoup the losses that producer Franco Guadenzi had sustained on Zombi 3. Already disenchanted with his experiences on that one and 1980’s Zombie Creeping Flesh / Virus (which he had conceived as a reworking of Dante’s Divine Comedy, only for it to turn out more like a feature-length, gored-up episode of The Goon Show), he was desperate to finally put his stamp on the zombie genre but inevitably came up against the usual under-resourcing (with only acrobatic Filipino extras and psychotropic banana liqueur in plentiful supply). His access to cameras (and indeed, DP Luigi Ciccarese) was restricted to night time because Bruno Mattei was using them to shoot one of his Strike Commando movies during the daylight hours. History predictably promptly repeated itself and Fragasso concluded principal photography with a Zombi 4 that was, like its predecessor, significantly short of feature length.

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The sore thumb prologue that was subsequently shot on an Elios studio soundstage is successful at bumping up the film’s running length to respectable proportions, less so at explaining WTF is going on and why. It involves a team of Western cancer specialists (naturally turned out in military fatigues and armed to the teeth) confronting a voodoo priest who has just conducted a black magic ritual that climaxed with his wife being sucked down into to Hell. The boffins are here to provide a rationalist, humanitarian alternative to such superstitious practices, so naturally their enlightened response is to blow the voodoo dude away with blazing machine guns. He’s already threatened to “persecute you after my death… I’ll come looking for you, to feed on your intestines!” and he wastes no time making good on his promise. His wife also pops back up from Hell, made up exactly like one of Lamberto Bava’s Demons and spitting green goo with great gusto… clear so far?

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If this outlandish, spastically directed introduction suggests that Fragasso had gone native, imbibing the heady influence of Philippine and Indonesian indigenous horror product (H Tjut Djali’s Mystics in Bali from 1981 springs to mind), as soon as every cemetery on the island has disgorged hordes of shrouded, bloodthirsty zombies the subsequent narrative settles into a series of more familiar tropes… “The dead will feed on the living”… “It’s not Tommy, he’s one of them, now”… all present and correct. We get the zombies warded off with a wall of fire, the crazed military man who loses it and jumps into the midst of the living dead, the little blonde girl who survives the opening massacre…with the novel twist that this one doesn’t turn up in the jungle twenty years later as the glamorous queen of the tribe that has adopted her: this one turns up (in the passable form of Candice Daly) twenty years later, returning to the jungle to discover what happened to mom and dad. Why she’s accompanied by a couple of Miami Vice refugees and a boatload of Vietnam vets-turned-mercenaries (including the immortal Nick Nicholson from Apocalypse Now and Platoon, looking like Al Cliver’s less couth kid brother) is something that larger brains than mine are going to have to figure out… ditto, why gay porn icon Jeff Stryker (billed here, marginally more believably, as Chuck Peyton) is wandering around equally aimlessly in the jungle with Massimo Vanni and some bird.

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“It’s not Tommy… he’s one of them now!

There are incidental laughs to be had from an arcane “Book of the Dead” that was clearly knocked up by the props department about two minutes before it appears on screen, and a “Third Gateway to Hell” (ulp!) which is rendered by the budget-scrimping spectacle of several while candles arranged in a circle (dunno about you, but I’m shitting myself…) The film’s pulsating AOR score (which was included in my copy as a bonus disc) is supplied by Al Festa of Fatal Frames infamy and dear old Al could himself conceivably have played a part in Zombi 4’s hysterical “climax”, in which Daly sacrifices herself (apparently by pulling out much of her hair and one of her eyeballs) to stem the rising tide of undead, while Peyton / Stryker is ravished by some voodoo dude’s fist…

Jeff's Action Figure.jpgChuck / Jeff (who apparently secured this role on account of actor-turned-casting director Werner Pochath’s infatuation with him) gets his say in the extras and comes across as a very likeable bloke, still optimistic about getting a mainstream break (“I’m still breathing, I’ve still got a shot!”) Good for him. In the meantime, he poses with his anatomically correct action figure (shown in modestly clothed mode, above) and reflects sadly on the premature death, via homicide, of his co-star Candice Daly. She’s commemorated in her own micro-interview slot and you also get some “making of” footage.

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Severin’s BD transfer looks every bit as good as we’ve come to expect and rounding out the extras, Fragasso and his work / life partner Rossella Drudi argue that screen zombies represent the growing immigrant / refugee underclass (well, maybe…) and – more compellingly – that the “fast moving zombie” furrow that has been so lucratively harvested by The Walking Dead, et al, was originally ploughed by them and Umberto Lenzi… whom they eventually concede did it first, in 1980, with Nightmare City.

In certain markets, Nightmare City has been roped into alternatively numbered “Zombi” sequences along with the likes of Joe D’Amato’s Anthropophagous and Absurd, Marino Girolami’s Zombie Holocaust, Tonino Ricci’s piss-awful Panic, and even Jess Franco’s Virgin Among The Living Dead and Revenge In The House Of Usher….

… and still they keep on coming.

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