This is not a review.

Now, y'all know I love my movie multi-packs. In fact, "multi-pack movies" is one of the categories in Operation: 101010. Quite frankly I'm not sure I hope to fulfill all the categories in the remaining time of the year, but I'm still trying. As such, I figured I'd add another review to the list today by watching A Bell from Hell (La campana del infierno, 1973). "Ooh, Euro-horror," thought I. "I like that. And the synopsis on the cardboard sleeve! I do so love movies where people try to drive other people insane in order to procure their inheritance...it's such a deliciously Scooby-Doo notion. Oh, and it stars Maribel Martin? How surprising! Why, after seeing The Blood Spattered Bride, I'd watch her in anything. And it also stars Viveca "dotty old Aunt Bedelia" Lindfors? Verily, this Bell from Hell should be a delight."

A DELIGHT IT WAS NOT...but it's not really the movie's fault, I discovered quickly enough- it's the cruddy 50-pack quality of the transfer. Sometimes you can live with it, and sometimes you simply should not. Remember how I said as much when I recently reviewed Messiah of Evil, how you'd be cheating yourself if you watched the Mill Creek cheapo version and not the special edition? Well, I'm going to take my own advice with A Bell from Hell. Yeah, I watched the whole thing. But the audio was so damn awful- I mean truly, truly, truly outrageous awful that I could barely tell what was going on. Huge chunks of dialogue were simply lost to me because it sounded like the cast of characters consisted solely of Charlie Brown's teachers.

The picture quality was equally awful, but I'll get to that.

Basically, I got enough of the gist of things to know that the film had to be better than what I was watching. I wondered if there was a better version out there somewhere- and guess what? There is! Take a gander at these comparisons between the "Chilling Classic" version I watched and Pathfinder's Special Edition:








There are COLORS! I had no idea. And this isn't the worst of it; there were certainly plenty of times I couldn't tell what the hell was going on at all.

So, I'm going to pretend I've never seen A Bell from Hell at all. I'm fixin' to seek out the Special Edition so I can give both the movie and my eyeballs the treatment they deserve. The multi-packs are sneaky, you see, and cheaper isn't always better. They've got good films- really good films- mixed in with the utter crap. I know enough to stay away from the obligatory Argento films, to wait to see those the way they're meant to be seen. But A Bell from Hell...I didn't know, I swear! A real review, then, will have to wait..as will we. Nyah.

I love Indian food!

Did you know that I love movies about demonic possession? I've only mentioned it 9256 times, so it's entirely possible that you don't know. Or didn't know, I should say, because now you do: I loves me some movies about demonic possession. The thing about this subgenre, however, is that there's pretty much only two ways to go: you either rip-off The Exorcist, or you don't. If a film is on the grounded in reality side of the fence, as are The Last Exorcism and The Exorcism of Emily Rose, then there's not much ripping off. But if the film is of a more shocking, straight-up horror bent, then it will pale in the shadow of The Exorcist. Mind you, The Exorcist is soooooooo much more than its most shocking moments- but the movies that came after (particularly in the late 70s and early 80s) ape nothing but the effects and therefore wallow in Pazuzu's shadow. Ovidio Assonitis's Beyond the Door (1974) is one such movie.

The film begins with a voiceover from Satan. Yeah, I'll just let that sit there for a moment.

Meet Jessica Barrett (Juliet Mills), a housewife from San Francisco. While her husband Robert (Gabriele Lavia, Revenge of the Dead) is off producing fabulously funky record albums (yes, record albums- it was the 70s), Jessica goes grocery shopping and deals with two of the most awful, obnoxious children ever committed to celluloid. Ken slurps Campbell's pea soup from the can (GET IT PEA SOUP) while Gail constantly has her nose buried in one of the dozen copies of Erich Segal's Love Story she's always toting (GET IT OH WAIT I DON'T GET IT) They bicker, they whine, they swear, and they're generally unpleasant. Imagine the joy the Barretts feel when they discover that birth control has failed and there's another jerk on the way!

domestic bliss: Jessica rehearses suicide (or tastes batter, whatever)

Meanwhile, Dimitri (Richard Johnson, The Haunting) wanders around, spying on the elder Barretts. See, he's Jessica's long-lost ex and now he's on a mission from Satan: in exchange for a few more years of life, Dimitri needs to ensure that Jessica's unborn baby completes its journey down the baby hatch. This is because, somehow, it's Satan's baby. That's right, Satan can infect a baby with evil just like that- sans chalky mousse or the aid of the Castevets!

As you may expect, carrying the spawn of Satan in your baby-place is not without its downside. See, Satan spreads his dominion beyond the door womb and things get totally craycray up in the Barrett household. Okay, maybe not totally craycray, but there's one night when the kids' room starts shaking and the floor lights up (like, through the floorboards-style, not disco-style. Unfortunately.) and toys move around and dolls get extra creepy via glowing eyes. It's some Poltergeist shit!

Jessica, of course, has it far worse. During some Paranormal Activity shit, she's visited in the night by an unseen force that cruelly removes her bedcovers. Then she floats around the room and...wait, did I say she has it worse? Fuck that! I'd love to float around.

The baby grows at an exponential rate and Jessica fears it's trying to kill her. She's sort of right, for her condition rapidly deteriorates. What starts out as vomiting blood and eating rotten banana peels off the street (???) soon becomes hi-Exorcist shenanigans like head-spinning, speaking in different voices, and puking up green stuff...although perhaps it's worth noting that her vom is more palak paneer than it is pea soup.

Okay, it's not worth noting, but I felt like noting it anyway.


As the screencaps show, Jessica also sweats and suddenly has weird eyes and corn teeth. During these moments, I felt hearts shoot right out of my eyeballs and into Beyond the Door. What can I say- I'm a sucker for that kind of thing.

Eventually Dimitri stalks Robert so hard that they end up meeting. Dimitri convinces Robert that he wants to help Jessica. Robert is all, "okay". I mean, what else is he gonna do? Oh yeah- he briefly tries some science with a doctor friend. The results prove nothing, but the...science apparatus did give me an opportunity to imagine that a possessed Jessica was visiting a hair salon, so all was not lost.

Once Dimitri enters the room beyond the door (SEE WHAT I DID THERE), things go from mostly incomprehensible to "dammit, we passed incomprehensible 20 minutes ago". Satan whines about always having to be born into another person's body and no one knows the suffering of a body-squatter Then he demands that Dimitri "plunge his hands into her" and rip out the baby. He refuses so Satan kills him, and the baby is stillborn. Hooray, the Barretts are back to normal! OR ARE THEY?

I know what you're thinking. That is some Zoltan: Hound of Dracula shit!

There's an awful lotta wrong in Beyond the Door. There are several lengthy passages where characters walk around the city while crazy 70s music plays; don't get me wrong, I dug the music, but the scenes went on too long and largely felt like filler. The time could have been better spent on things like...oh, you know, characters and the plot. Still, there's no denying that there's a certain...mmm, "charm" doesn't seem right somehow...there's a certain something to the scene where Robert is relentlessly harassed by a dude playing a recorder-flute-thing with his nose.

Everything's just too damn vague in this film and we don't much care about what's going on, never mind the undeveloped characters, which give us no reason to invest in their stories or plight. Dimitri explains things to Robert without explaining anything. Jessica is full-on possessed pretty quickly, and then suddenly she's not possessed. It's all sort of shrug-worthy, which...dammit, demonic possession is not supposed to be shrug-worthy! It's supposed to be terrifying and awful.

Still, there are a few things that work in the movie. There's a nugget of a worthwhile story buried deep under all the crap; we get peeks at it when Jessica confides in a friend that she dreams of running away from it all, or when she yells at Robert for not giving her "any room to breathe". If The Exorcist is in part a metaphor for puberty and burgeoning sexuality, then Beyond the Door is in part a metaphor for those- women in particular- who are dissatisfied with the idea of traditional domesticity. Granted, I may be stretching it a bit and that "in part" is a verrrrrrry small one, but it's there. Don't worry about having to think much, though, as it's never addressed in any real way. It's too bad, because it would have put some meat on the movie's bones.

The shocks, for what they are, suffice for the sub-genre. Yeah, we've seen them all before in The Exorcist, but if you dug 'em then, why wouldn't you dig 'em now? Demonic sweat is always good. And there's one bit with Jessica's eyes that- well, I don't want to spoil it but it literally made me gasp. It's a moment like that in The Exorcist when Regan has been acting out (if you can call masturbating with a crucifix "acting out") and suddenly throws her head back, her eyes stark white and her throat stark lumpy. Basically, it's that moment when "acting out" blows past "she's ill" and heads into "what the eff is going on here this is really not right" territory.

Like me, fans of possession movies will probably enjoy Beyond the Door, if only because it brings to mind thoughts of its far-superior predecessor. However, The Exorcist shouldn't get too high and mighty- after all, I didn't seen anyone play a recorder-flute-thing with their nose in that movie.

Buy Beyond the Door at Boulevard Movies and judge for yourself, judgey!

Father Was a Dracula

Dracula's Daughter (1936) was produced by Universal Studios as a sequel to their smash hit Dracula, featuring Bela Lugosi as the titular bloodsucker. Despite its ties to Dracula and its tenuous basis in Bram Stoker's short story "Dracula's Guest", Dracula's Daughter is perhaps best known as the first lesbian vampire film.

Gloria Holden stars as Countess Marya Zaleska, who claims to be...you know, the daughter of Count Dracula. When she learns that Professor Van Helsing (Edward Van Sloan) has slain her vampire father, Marya is relieved- she's convinced that his death will mean her release from her insatiable bloodlust. She steals his body from the local morgue and burns it, thrilled at the prospect of being "free forever" and finally able to "live as a woman in the world of the living". Her manservant Sandor (Irving Pichel), however, convinces her that she will never be free from the curse; soon Zaleska prowls the dark streets of London once more, in search of victims. As her hope turns to despair, the Countess seeks the aid of psychiatrist Jeffrey Garth (Otto Kruger) as attempts to pit "the strength of the human mind against the power of darkness".

These obsessive desires of Zaleska can be viewed as veiled references to any number of things, including drug use and, yes, homosexuality. While Universal apparently acknowledged the hints of lesbianism (and even banked on it in the film's marketing campaigns- "Save the women of London from Dracula's Daughter!"), they are only that- hints. They're extremely subtle hints you have to keep your eyes peeled for as you bear in mind the period in which the film was made. There's no touching in the film- hell, Zaleska never bares fangs and any biting, if in fact there actually is any, occurs off-screen. The scene with the heaviest indicators occurs when the Countess brings a young girl, Lili (Nan Grey), back to her studio to "model" for a painting. Lili drops the shoulders of her dress as Marya attempts to bewitch her with her patented soulful gaze / sparkling ring combo; Lili grows uncomfortable and attempts to flee, but her fate has been sealed. Is she genuinely taken with Lili, or is she just a hungry vampire? After all, she also "seduces" male victims the same way. In a later scene, Zaleska almost puts the bite on Dr. Garth's assistant Janet (Marguerite Churchill), whom she's kidnapped- and who, it should be noted, does NOT willingly succumb to the Countess's charms. Zaleska slowly...slowly...SLOWLY inches closer to Janet's neck, but she's interrupted before there's any contact by the arrival of Garth who, incidentally, is the one the Countess longs to be with for eternity. This desire, however, is borne of a "cure me or be stuck with me forever" attitude rather than the experience of true love. So. Lesbian subtext? Sure, it's there if you're looking for it- which, umm, I suppose is why it's called "subtext". It's also more negative than it is steamy- don't forget, Zaleska needs to be cured of her "affliction".

Even if it weren't a film that provokes speculation and discussion, Dracula's Daughter would still be an enjoyable example of Universal's gothic horror. The streets of London are all cobblestones and shadows, while Zaleska's haunt is all shadows and cobwebs. Gloria Holden is appropriately mesmerizing as the Countess- her reluctance to play a role she feared would hinder her burgeoning career (as Lugosi complained of Dracula) informs her performance with a haughty discomfort that relays Zaleska's discomfort well. There's an ample amount of comic relief in the film, particularly early on when some cowardly cops have to deal with the bodies of Renfield and Dracula.

There's a terrific article and analysis of the film over at And You Call Yourself a Scientist!, which is where I got most of these awesome screencaps. Hat tip for the post title to Adam Ross of the late DVD Panache.

EXORCISM MOVIES: a flowchart

The Last Exorcism opens this Friday. Are you worried that with all the possession-flavored movies on the market, you'll be mired in head-spinning and puking to the point where you can't tell your Regans from your Emily Roses from your Nells? It's understandable- you're not alone. That's why I made this flowchart to help everyone figure things out. Because I care!

EDITED TO ADD: No, I did not include every possession/exorcism movie ever made in this chart, thank you, I realize that. Like lists, when I post these things they're meant to be pleasant, horror-centric, time-wasting diversions that, perhaps, start discussion. They're not meant to be all-inclusive.

click to embiggen

"No one will hear you scream!"

Y'all. Y'ALL. I have a new mission in life, and that is to get the whole entire world (which includes YOU) to acknowledge Messiah of Evil (1973) as the GD horror classic that it is. When someone out there declares it "list-making time" and everyone is all, "Oooh, I love this movie and that one and THIS movie totally gives me the creeps!", Messiah of Evil sits home alone, waiting for the phone to ring, waiting to be put on a list or two or all. The lists come and go, but Messiah's phone never rings. It softly cries itself to sleep, wondering what it has to do to get some attention from horror fans. Does it have to put out? Oh baby, it puts out like you would not believe, from the tagline ("Terror you won't want to remember- in a film you won't be able to forget!") on down, and I will ignore it no longer! People who like great horror movies UNITE!


Arletty (Marianna Hill) heads to the sleepy seaside town of Point Dume to search for her missing father, an artist from whom she'd been estranged for some time. When she arrives, she quickly realizes that something's just not right in Point Dume. The locals are either incoherent, frighteningly odd, or simply not at all helpful.

As she hangs out at her father's studio, she finds diaries and papers documenting what could only be described as his descent into madness. She meets Thom (Michael Greer) and his traveling companions Toni (Joy Bang) and Laura (Anitra Ford) when they arrive unannounced at the studio. Thom and Arletty dig deeper into the mystery and learn of the legend of the Blood Moon that appears over Point Dume, while Laura and Toni grow irritated that they no longer have a hold over Thom's affections.

Oh yeah, and something has caused the residents of Point Dume to turn into bloodthirsty zombie-ghoul things.

Sorry if that's all a little vague, but then Messiah of Evil is a little vague. There's a plot there to figure out, sure, but Messiah is one of those films that comes together slowly. It's more about atmosphere and feeling than it is about explaining everything away or giving concrete answers. It's got the same sort of hazy, dream-like quality that Let's Scare Jessica to Death has, and though it's ostensibly a zombie film, Messiah is definitely much closer kin to Jessica than it is to anything in Romero's oeuvre. The bookend voiceover narration in particular will likely thrill Jessica-heads.

The big star of Messiah of Evil, however, is undoubtedly the cinematography of Stephen M. Katz. Sub-par copies of the film have been floating around forever, the picture cropped into the wrong aspect ratio, the colors muddied to the point of darkness. Code Red released a special 35th Anniversary Edition DVD, restoring the picture to all its technicolor, 2.35:1 glory. It is fucking LUSCIOUS, a feast for the eyes and the pants. Messiah of Evil bears a style that, in my opinion, puts it in the same family as Argento's Suspiria- it's truly a lick-the-screen-worthy film.



While I'm all about a visceral slasher flick or any manner of outrageous animals running amok, evocative horror movies tend to dig the deepest into my psyche. They're not so much an assault on the senses as they are quiet burrowers, working their way under my skin, rendering me tense before I even realize it. Messiah of Evil is absolutely one of those films: it perfectly captures the feeling of the uncanny as we're introduced to some of the residents of Point Dume- they're off. They're stilted and not-quite-right, much like the town itself. It's too quiet, particularly at night when the streets are empty and the only sound is the buzzing of a neon sign. Both Toni and Laura walk around town, only to quickly discover that they're not alone and that they're very much in danger. These two sequences are incredibly shudder-inducing: Laura wanders into an empty grocery store only to discover some townfolk huddled over a freezer, dining on raw meat. After a moment, they notice her...



Toni, meanwhile, sits alone in a movie theater. The seats behind her slowly fill up with townspeople in a set piece reminiscent of the famous playground scene from Hitchcock's The Birds. It is pure bone-chilling awesome.

What a gem. I loved this movie, plain and simple. If you love gorgeous, creepy mood pieces, you're in for a treat. Check it out and spread the word- just be sure to pick up Code Red's superior 35th Anniversary Edition if you do. The next time you make a list of amazing horror flicks, don't forget Messiah of Evil. You don't want it to cry, do you?

fusion

I know that at some point here on the Ol' FG I've mentioned a place I frequented once in a while in Brooklyn called Happy Taco. I should specify, I suppose, that it was a food joint and not a strip joint. Happy Taco's specialty, as you might then guess, was Mexican food. What you might not guess, however, is that it was run by Chinese immigrants. Mind you, I'm not saying that Chinese people should only make and distribute Chinese food...but you have to admit, it's kind of strange and unexpected. I mention this because the surprise I felt when I walked into Happy Taco for the first time and saw the workforce was the same surprise I felt at the end of Tales from the Dead (2008), when the credits revealed that the film was not made in Japan, as the Japanese actors and Japanese dialogue (subtitled in English) led me to believe. It turns out that the writer/director, Jason Cuadrado, is American (as is the entire crew, it seems), and the film was shot in and around Los Angeles. How you like them happy tacos?

It's an interesting approach to the material, and one can only assume that the goal was to capitalize on the J-horror craze...or maybe Cuadrado is simply a J-horror enthusiast. The result is pretty authentic; I mean, it'd have to be to make it past my mad expert detecting skillz. Okay, I don't have mad expert detecting skillz, but I'd like to have them, which surely counts for something. 

Bitch wife Shoko (Nikki Takei) (PS- aren't wives always bitches? I mean, really) leaves her husband home alone, saying only that she's "going out". Fate intervenes in her plans, however, giving her a big IN YOUR FACE, SHOKO via flat tire. She's soon picked up by Tamika (Leni Ito), an odd young woman who claims to be a medium. She hears the dead speak and regales Shoko with...wait for it...TALES FROM THE DEAD despite Shoko's protestations of "Please don't bore me with your tales from the dead". Such is the price one must pay, however, for accepting a ride from a stranger...mua ha ha...

Home Sweet Home

Tamika herself stars in this tale, offering up her mad communication skillz to a couple who have seen specters around the house. The sightings began shortly after the couple brought their son home from the hospital, where they found him, completely paralyzed, after he'd been missing for several months. Are the spirits and the son connected somehow? Don't worry- Tamika Explains It All, and it's an fairly cool little story, despite what the cheapo ghost makeup will lead you to expect.

Chalk

Good cops gone bad, missing murder victims, and mysterious chalk outlines add up to a supernatural story that doesn't make much sense at all. It's not excruciating by any means, but it's undoubtedly the weakest story of the lot. 

"Hmm, maybe we left this story's logic outside..."

The Dirty Business of Time

Yoshi (Yutaka Takeuchi) is a self-loathing, self-perceived failure. Despite the love of his girlfriend and mother, he never feels that he's as successful as he wants to be. His recent firing drives him to the point of suicide, but he is saved by Ebisu (Mark Ofuji), a mysterious man who offers Yoshi all the success and wealth he desires in exchange for a small commodity: Yoshi's time. The dead, you see, offer up exorbitant amounts of money so that they can spend a few moments more with their loved ones. An hour here, an hour there traded for untold wealth? Seems like a pretty good deal- but if you've ever seen an episode of The Twilight Zone (or...umm...Tales from the Dead), you know that these deals are never actually "pretty good" in the end. "Dirty Business..." was quite a surprise- the best segment of the film and clever enough to be a tale told by Rod Serling. 

Shoko the Window (typo that stays)

Finally we get to the tale of Bitch Wife Shoko (you didn't think she was just randomly picked up by Tamika, did you?). It turns out that she's even more of a bitch than we thought! See, she's a member of a homicidal coffee klatch known as The Black Widows Club. Guess what they do? HINT: They don't spin webs (or if they do, the film does not address such). From there...well, you can probably figure out where that particular tale will go faster than you can say "I hate to say it, but Haley Joel Osment looks kind of weird as a grown-up. Well, not weird, necessarily, but more...he looks exactly like he did as a kid only his way bigger, sort of like a reverse Shrinky-Dink."

Tales from the Dead: hey, not bad, particularly if you're a fan of anthologies and/or J-horror. Sure, the low production values peek through quite often- video just looks so damn video-y- but it's an authentic-feeling facsimile of Asian ghost cinema. It's closer to the real thing than that Chinese Mexican food I used to eat ever was, so there.

those wacky old ones

No, HPLHS does not stand for Howard P. Lovecraft High School, although that would be awesome. It stands for HP Lovecraft Historical Society, and they're the enthusiasts behind The Call of Cthulhu (2005), a 45-minute silent adaptation of the short story of the same name.

Upon the death of his great-uncle, The Man (Matt Foyer) inherits an estate that includes a box full of research into a series of bizarre events that occur in March, 1925 and something called the "Cthulhu Cult". The Man takes up the investigation and quickly becomes obsessed with the cult and their god, who sleeps and waits beyond the stars.

Eerie statues, weirdo swamp cultists, stylized dream sequences...Call of Cthulhu gives us a story previously thought "unfilmable" by Lovecraft fans thanks to, oddly enough, the film's limited budget. Largely restricting themselves to techniques available during Lovecraft's time- expressionist set design, stop-motion animation, forced perspective- presents the fantastic world in...well, in a fantastic way. The stylized conceits of silent storytelling serve the plot well and certainly recall the work of Murnau, Lang, and other filmmakers from the era. 

While the world it presents is wildly imaginative, there are times when Call of Cthulhu gets bogged down under its own weight; however, this is how I tend to feel about the work of Lovecraft in general. Try as I may, I fear I'll never be a true HPL nut. I hope we can still be friends, you and I.

The last 10 minutes of the movie really pick up, though, and when we're finally introduced to stop-motion Cthulhu...well, I'd describe him to you, but even to think on it is enough to drive me mad with insanity! But here's a picture.

Are the Elder Gods still resting out there, waiting only for some wackadoos to dance around in a swamp before they'll come back?  The film says so, and it's a fun notion to entertain: "We hear its call and await our inevitable doom". Hey, that totally describes my relationship with pizza. Maybe I do get this Lovecraft thing after all!

The Dead Will Rise! ...sort of.

In an effort to attract fans of zombie films by the likes of George Romero, American distributors renamed Pupi Avati's 1983 Italian horror film Zeder, releasing it under the title Revenge of the Dead. That, coupled with poster art depicting rotting corpses clawing their way out of the Earth, might lead you to think that watching this would give you some Fulci-tastic undead action. My friends, you would be decidedly wrong, but you can take solace in the fact that it's not your fault.

Revenge tells the tale of Stefano (Gabriele Lavia), a writer who finds himself embroiled in a mystery most mysterious after receiving a used typewriter from his girlfriend Alessandra (Anne Canovas). Stefano examines the ribbon and pieces together what the previous owner had typed; after lots of legwork and interviews with weirdos, Stefano deduces that someone named Zeder discovered "K-Zones", mystical places around the world where the soil can reanimate the dead. You know- like a Pet Sematary. Some Zeder-heads have set up camp in a K-Zone in an attempt to bring back a dead priest.


As I noted earlier, the promises of flesh-eating hordes made by the title and poster never materialize. Sure, you might get a zombie here and there and maybe a death or two, but Revenge of the Dead is far more a psychological horror film than it is an "...of the Dead" film as we know it. False advertising aside, though, I still found Revenge to be a bit of a disappointment, especially considering that I dug Avati's The House with Laughing Windows so very much. While Revenge certainly has some chilling sequences, a heavy atmosphere, and some interesting frame compositions, it ultimately meanders too much and feels much less polished than the director's earlier work. The methodical pace here doesn't work to the film's benefit.

Some of this, however, may be attributed to Gabriele Lavia, who makes a disappointing leading man- somewhat surprising, given his work in movies such as Deep Red and Inferno. Stefano's need to solve this mystery and the obsession that drives him- ultimately at the cost of his relationship with Alessandra (who, thanks to Canovas, is a bit of a charmer)- never really come across.

Revenge of the Dead isn't a film to write off completely, but neither is it an overlooked masterpiece. Enthusiasts of Italian horror are likely to enjoy it...just don't expect the promises of gut-munching madness.

A Waste of Time

I spent about 77 minutes of my life watching the lesbian-ish vampires-in-a-brothel flick A Feast of Flesh and I really feel like...that's enough. That's all I have to give to it. I don't even want to spend 77 seconds reviewing it, so I have chosen two screencaps which I feel will sum up my miserable experience whilst saving me precious moments that would be better spent doing something else entirely, like perhaps punching myself in the face repeatedly.

1) The distributor's disclaimer. For fuck's sake, the least you can do is use spellcheck.


2) The lady victim here is supposed to be a) dead and b) tied to the bed. The filmmakers have avoided the question "How do you tie someone to the headboard, exactly?" by not tying her wrist at all.

There. I just saved you 77 painful minutes. The things I do for you kids, I swear!

short n' tasty rev-yooo round-up

The Grapes of Death

Liberal pesticide use gives a vineyard's seasonal output an aromatic bouquet of death in Jean Rollin's 1978 beauty. Grapes of Death is a "zombie" flick in line with something like The Crazies- the infected become viciously homicidal, but they don't die first. What really sets the film apart and puts a little meat on its bones, though, is the fact that these killers aren't completely mindless. Unfortunately for both them and their loved ones, the infected experience moments of clarity during which they're completely aware of their urges- and that they can't stop them.

The cinematography is lush and the pace is the variety of languid typical of the era, but Grapes packs a few unexpected shocks as well. The violence is surprisingly brutal and victims don't always die right away, while the gore is plentiful and plenty nauseating- both blood and pus flow liberally. The Grapes of Death is a worthy addition to the zombie(-esque) pantheon, not least because it follows in The Beyond's footsteps by including a hot blind chick.

Phantom of the Mall: Eric's Revenge 

I get the feeling that Phantom of the Mall is one of those love-it-or-hate-it flicks...although I don't understand how anyone in anything resembling a right mind could hate it. In the film's fictional town, Morgan Fairchild is the Mayor. Your Honor, I rest my case.

But you need more. Well, the title tells you the essential plot: it's like Phantom of the Opera, dudes. But it's in a mall. Ah, the mall- now just an inconvenience, it was once- not so long ago, in fact- a place of wonderment and magic. Why, the intrepid heroes of Romero's Dawn of the Dead had never seen a mall before they took refuge in one (I'm not sure if the casting of Ken Foree in Phantom is meant to be a nod to Dawn or not, but I'm going to pretend it is). Phantom of the Mall was released in 1989, a time when a mall was still the place to be, a time when Pauly Shore (who stars as "Buzz") was merely annoying and not Pauly Shore annoying, a time when VHS tapes could cost upwards of $89.99 (as the sticker on my copy indicates), a time when songs over the closing credits featured lyrics about the movie you just watched. The line "Is he the Phantom of the Mall? Or just some retard in a broken hockey mask?" is pure poetry.

Don't worry- Eric is not just some retard in a broken hockey mask! No, he's just a boy who was wronged by greedy developers who burned down his house to make way for THE MALL. Now he lives in the world's largest air ducts and papier-maiche caves, practicing ju-jitsu and making mix tapes for the girl he left behind. I'm telling you: THIS MOVIE IS THE SHIT. I'm sure you agree, and I didn't even tell you that it also features Kelly Rutherford, aka Megan the Hooker with a Heart of Gold from Melrose Place, in an early role as "Salesgirl". The only question that remains is, why doesn't this tape live in my pants?

Rattlers

Oh, Rattlers, I can't help but love you. You're not "good", but who cares? You epitomize the 1976 drive-in experience, and sometimes that's all that really matters to me. You're produced by Sultan of Sleaze Harry "The Child" Novak. You feature a scienceologist and a photogologist engaging in battles of the wits concerning women's lib...before they fall in love and have a romantic night dancing and making out by a fountain in Vegas. You feature amazing toupees, a love theme, whiny divorcées getting offed in the bathtub, long stretches where nothing happens, Army cover-ups, nerve gas...and yes, rattlesnakes- but only a lethargic few, craftily edited to give the appearance of a hostile many. Yes, Rattlers, when I watch you it's like I'm somewhere else entirely- watching a crappy movie under the stars instead of a ceiling.

Film Club: It's Alive

If you've been here for any length of time, then surely you've heard me tell the fascinating tale of how the poster for It's Alive gave me nightmares after my mom and I walked by it as it hung outside of a movie theater. In case you haven't yet heard the tale...well, that's pretty much it. We walked by it, and later on it gave me nightmares. See? Fascinating.

Despite my relationship with the poster...despite my having a horror blog...despite the fact that it's been around for decades, I'd never seen this 1974 film before last night. Wow, Film Clubbers! Today I feel so much closer to It's Alive- and to you.

But! Do I mean "closer" in a good way? I'll spare you the suspense: yes. Yes, I do. In fact, I liked It's Alive far more than I probably should have. As I watched it, my brain was in this marvelous state: you know the one- the one that makes things which are not profound whatsoever seem totally profound. It's that same place your 7th-grade mind went, when you totally got all the deep meaning in songs by, like, Nena and to prove your connection to that which actually means nothing at all, you would write the lyrics all over your math book cover.

Or maybe that's just me. Regardless, consider this post my math book cover; I'm not sure what was happening in my brain place, but last night I was all "Wow, It's Alive isn't just a horror movie about a homicidal mutant baby, it's an indictment on the modern family! Or is it? It is! And it's an indictment of the pharmaceutical manufacturing industries! Wow." In the cold light of the day after, I don't know how right I was. What I do know for sure is that I enjoyed the hell out of It's Alive and I only feel a little bit wrong about it.

The film begins as Lenore Davis (Sharon Farrell) goes into labor with her second child. Her husband Frank (John P. Ryan) drives her to the hospital and waits alongside other men who are about to become fathers. In the delivery room, Lenore begins to have some difficulty. Her first child popped out in under an hour, and it didn't feel like...this! The doctor assures her that everything is fine- well, save that the baby must be an 11-pounder.

At this point, I would like to take a time out to mention that nothing that weighs 11 pounds should ever come out of a vagina, ever. EVER.

I'm sure plenty of you out there have children, and perhaps some of those children were that large at birth. Maybe- just maybe- you were a child once yourself, and when you came out of your mom's vagina you weighed that much. I just...the whole childbirth thing is beyond me. I mean, I get it; I understand the concepts and all that, but the mechanics of birthing? They make no sense to me. At all. I will summarize it thusly: there are limits. Let it suffice to say, I was sympathizing somethin' awful with Mrs. Davis.

When it finally emerges, the baby lays waste to everyone in the room save his mama. Doctors and nurses lay scattered about, their throats torn open. Baby, thou art loosed!

As the Davises deal with the repercussions of bringing a homicidal mutant baby into the world- you know, stuff like job loss, nosy nurses looking to cop a scoop, reporters at every turn- said baby gets his nom-nom on. As mutant baby-cam shows, perhaps the poor young thing is cranky because he needs glasses. Bad eyesight can lead to headaches, which can lead to irritation.

That woman, by the way? The one who's about to be a victim? She had on the most fabulous white go-go boots you could ever hope to see. I am just saying.

The police want to kill the baby before it completely obliterates the city of Santa Monica. Frank is fine with that; in fact, he continually stresses that the baby isn't really his- not in a my wife obviously had an affair with Xtro kind of way, but rather in a I refuse to believe it's not butter that I made that thing kind of way. You can't really blame him.

The medical community, on the other hand, wants to capture the baby alive in order to study it and attempt to figure out why it's so mean and gross.

So, the baby does his thing (killing people), everyone tries to find it, and Lenore kind of loses her shit. When the baby makes his way home, Frank shoots it up but good. Well, not good dead, but good enough so that junior leaves a trail of blood during his escape. Everyone tracks it down, and Frank has a change of heart. He realizes that even though his son is a hideous, homicidal freak of nature, it's still his son. But it's too late! There's no happy ending for the Davises. I mean, there kind of is because they no longer have to worry about raising a mutant...but it's still sad.

Somehow, It's Alive isn't quite as schlocky as you'd think a movie about a ridiculous-looking mutant monster baby would be. Writer/director Larry Cohen wisely keeps the child in the shadows, only giving us a glimpse here and there of a giant fang, a giant eye, giant claws, or a giant forehead. It's pretty hokey, sure, but too much would have made this movie an all-out laugh riot. The effects are all low-budget, in fact. Earlier I said "throats ripped out" when describing the hospital room massacre; well, the reality is not nearly as gruesome- some blood shows up on some necks and that's about it.

Is it scary? Theoretically, sure. In actuality...not so much. Truth be told, there's not that much action here. The baby hangs out in dark corners, we get some mutant-cam, someone dies. The majority of the film focuses on the Davises- how they're coping or not coping, etc. It's more their story than a monster movie, really. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but nor is it what you might expect.

As for my late-night philosophizing and all that, well, I suppose maybe you could look at It's Alive as a prime example of societal attitudes in the post-1960s, as the Leave It to Beaver-style notions of the ideal family became antiquated. The "me" generation was about to take hold, and white picket fences were no longer the be all, end all. Maybe Cohen is examining changing attitudes about families in the film...or maybe I'm just reading way too much into the fact that Frank makes an off-the-cuff comment about how lucky single people are and the baby kills a milkman. Eh. I like finding depth where perhaps there is none. Otherwise, It's Alive is just a movie about a killer mutant baby and-- wait, that's awesome enough.


Film Club Coolies, Y'all!
----------------------------
Movie Bullstuff
Wopsploitation
Banned in Queensland
From Midnight, With Love
nijomu
The House of Sparrows
Innocent Donuts
emma blackwood
Pussy Goes Grrr
The Verdant Dude

when the impossible becomes possible

I was recently playing a video game (shocking) wherein one character says to another, "Many things are impossible until they are done." I didn't understand this sentiment truly until I watched the 1996 disasterpiece Caress of the Vampire. See, I thought it impossible to screw up the simple premise "lesbian vampires from outer space", but director Frank Terranova has gone and done exactly that, proving me at least 150% wrong. Caress of the Vampire is a complete failure in every single way- it's not so much a movie you watch as it is a movie that happens to you. I say this despite the fact that it stars the prettiest strippers in all of Glenwood, New Jersey!

After a few minutes of credits over Windows 3.1 Starfield screensaver, we are treated to a chilling Star Wars-esque opening...well, it doesn't crawl, exactly, but the words are there and as I said, they're chilling.




I know what you're thinking: why is "ago" capitalized? I'll tell you now- you need to let that go, because you'll never find out.

The most seductive force in the universe comes to Earth via some decidedly made by a student enrolled in their first semester of DeVry's computer graphics program effects. Mind you, I'm not saying this is bad- if anything, the spaceship certainly raised my anticipation of the story that was about to unfold.


We are never told that said unfolding story takes place in the present day; therefore, we can only assume that it takes place "Long Ago". If that's the case, then it turns out that "Long Ago" looks just like New Jersey circa 1996. I knew it!

A leather-clad lady strolls innocently down a boulevard one fine evening. As her constitutional ends and she's about to climb into her Trans-Am, she's accosted by a couple of ne'er-do-wells. Little do the hooligans know that they're messing with the wrong leather-clad lady...she's no innocent- she's a vampire!


I know what you're thinking: why would an alien have a tongue piercing? I'll tell you now- you need to let that go, because you'll never find out.

Cut to: a bedroom! Leather and another woman wear thongs and show some boobs (their own boobs- it's not, like, a demonstration) as they crawl around on a bed. I guess this is...sexy? Actually, everything about the scene- from the bedroom that's just so obviously someone's bedroom to the completely inappropriate action-flavored music- renders it all the polar opposite of sexy. The women are supposed to be lovers, but the actresses don't seem to feel comfortable actually touching one another- they sort of circle each other, roll around, rub each others arms, and come super close to kissing without, you know, kissing. Eh, maybe Caress of the Vampire takes the word "caress" very seriously- or maybe things will heat up later! [SPOILER: things don't heat up later]

After they're done rolling around, Leather and Other One stand at the window to spy on their new neighbor, whom I shall call Plaid. This is the best I can do, for none of the characters have names. It's not just that I don't feel like remembering their names- it's that no one in the movie has a name. Hell, when all is said and done, Other One doesn't even speak...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Apparently Leather and Other One find Plaid's stretch pants, plaid shirt, and top-knot very enticing. They...stare at her as she unpacks her groceries, which makes Plaid's kitchen get all negative-looking.


I know what you're thinking: why do the aliens need a calendar? I'll tell you now- you need to let that go, because you'll never find out.

The stare of the outer-space lesbians induces a sudden wave of total horniness in Plaid, which, as you may have guessed, causes her to immediately masturbate. Well, she doesn't masturbate, exactly...she does this, which is...is...okay, I don't know what the fuck she's doing.

Finally Plaid is released from the spell and she goes back to her chores none the wiser- which can only mean one thing...it's time for dialogue!

Leather is clearly smitten with Plaid, for she heads over to introduce herself. She puts Plaid under another spell and sort of...gropes her briefly. Plaid snaps out of it and immediately invites Leather to dinner the next night.

As Plaid is chopping carrots for the salad, she cuts her finger. This is to be expected, as the vampire can't resist the drop of blood and must show their true nature scene dates back to the days of Bram Stoker. Leather can't resist the blood and promptly begins sucking on Plaid's finger and says, "I'm used to blood- I used to be a nurse." Now, I've never gone to the emergency room while bleeding, so I don't know...maybe this is standard procedure for the treatment of cuts. One thing's for sure- it's sexy!

Wait, I mean it's nauseating.

Meanwhile, next door...or...somewhere, Other One is giving some dude a lap dance. Who is he? We don't know. There's no conversation. Why does this guy assume the standard strip club you no touch the dancer position while he's sitting on a couch in someone's home? We don't know. Other One takes off her dress to reveal an uncomfortable-looking outfit composed of straps, she gives him a lap dance, bites him, the end.

Meanwhile, a couple of homicide detectives are looking into the series of apparent "vampire murders". They catch a break when surveillance video of that first murder- you know, the one by the Trans-Am- is discovered. Here's a still from said video:

Yes, it seems that we were actually watching the scene unfold through the surveillance camera! Frank Terranova certainly toys with our notions of reality.

At any rate, we're treated to more rolling around by Leather and Other One.



Leather has invited Plaid to an after hours club. When it's time to leave, however, Leather decides she doesn't want to go- she'd much rather stay on the couch and grope Plaid's Kmart-bought breast implants.

The homicide cops go on a stakeout at the parking lot they saw in the surveillance video. Lucky for them, Leather is once again just a-strollin' down the boulevard; of course, this is just recycled footage from the beginning of the movie. See, Frank Terranova really does toy with our notions of reality and time!

The cops follow Leather to her home. They enter her basement and find some fruit punch blood in a Rubbermaid thermos. They go back outside just in time to see the garage door open and the spaceship zip off into the stars.

I know what you're thinking: what about Plaid? Well, finally my friends, we've got a question that can be answered. You see, Plaid is now a vampire! Gone is the top-knot! Present is the cleavage! Present are the fangs!

She introduces herself to her neighbor, who seems rather pleasant and has exquisite taste in art. Thus, the cycle continues here on Earth, while we can only assume that Leather and Other One have gone to some other planet to pursue their penchant for rolling around.

The best thing I can say about Caress of the Vampire is that it's mercifully short, clocking in at about 44 minutes. I've never seen a film with less plot, and I've certainly never seen a film featuring characters that don't even warrant names. What little dialogue there is between the women is atrociously dubbed, while three music tracks are constantly recycled throughout. If you're thinking there's at least some decent softcore action here- a natural assumption given the whole strippers as lesbian vampires angle, then you're thinking wrong, friendo. There's more eroticism to be found in a commercial for the Shake Weight.

Unless...wait! Maybe I'm under some sort of spell and Caress of the Vampire is actually awesome! Maybe it is impossible to make a terrible movie about lesbian vampires from outer space! I do seem to have a sudden urge to go climb atop my kitchen counter and...do whatever it was Plaid was doing...