Day 27 - "Death does not have the power to separate us."

Having emerged from The New York Ripper earlier this month with my faculties intact, I decided to play with fire and watch another movie from my "do not watch this, it will ruin you" list. That's right, I took Marbles Harsgrove's "Don't live your life by fear. Don't do that" advice to heart and planted myself in front of the one vote wonder that is...

Yes, I have now seen Joe D'Amato's infamous spaghetti splatter flick Beyond the Darkness (1979), aka Buio Omega despite my worries that it would have me puking up my innards like that lady in Fulci's City of the Living Dead.

Hmm. Well, maybe I puked up my innards a long time ago and never noticed. Or perhaps I never had any innards to begin with? Whatever the reason is, I came out the other side of this one with my gorge decidedly unrisen, which is perhaps the most shocking thing about this shocker.

Don't get me wrong, Beyond the Darkness is truly, truly, truly gross. TRULY. But with the exception of one gnarly scene (that did have me looking away, I admit), the grossness isn't tied to the violence, which made all the difference for me. I think I was expecting, I don't know, tongues ripped out and eyeballs stabbed and the like, so when it wasn't that--when it's just "oh, you're hacking up a dead body?"--it was more palatable...though not at all palatable, if you know what I mean. It definitely deserves to have caution tape wrapped around it to ward off the innocent, but I think that for me, the context of the gore put it in the "really gross" category when I thought it'd be in the "really gross and hateful" category. Never thought I'd be here all "oh it's not that bad, I think I might have even enjoyed it" about a movie chock full of splatter, cannibalism, and necrophilia. But then I also never thought I'd live in a world where I stopped buying Sleater-Kinney albums, but here I am! (#Justice4Janet)

Frank (Kieran Canter) is a very pretty (he really is) young taxidermist whose girlfriend Anna (Cinzia Monreale) is in the hospital for some reason. Frank's housekeeper Iris (Franca Stoppi) is jealous of Anna, and so she enlists the help of a Strega Nona-type to do some voodoo on Anna. The voodoo do work, and Anna dies. Frank is sad. Back home, Iris offers him some titty. I mean that literally. She breastfeeds Frank, and you say to yourself, "Oh, what have I done to myself by watching this movie?"

Anyway, Frank ain't a taxidermist for no reason! He absconds with Anna's body, then proceeds to preserve her--you know, taking out all of her insides, giving her glass eyes, taking a bite out of her heart, etc. As you do. It's gross!

Unfortunately for...well, all of us, in a way...a hitchhiker forced herself into Frank's van when he was on his way home with Anna's body. When she catches wind of what's going on, Frank kills her, but not before ripping out all of her fingernails with pliers. Please note, that was the scene where I had to look away. It's gross!

The ever-helpful Iris is right there to assist Frank with disposing of the hitchhiker's body. By "assist" I mean "do most of the work" as Iris chops up the dead young lass with a cleaver while Frank fills the tub with acid. I love that the acid was in green glass wrapped in a basket, like a giant bottle of the finest Ernest & Julio Gallo.

Several nauseating hacks later, the hitchhiker's body parts are chucked into the tub where they dissolve into a curdled froth. Iris scoops up wayward guts with a dustpan. It's gross!

In the next scene, D'Amato intercuts Iris really disgustingly eating stew (seriously, who eats like that?) with shots of hitchhiker stew, and Frank barfs. It's gross!

Frank meets a couple of other lovely young women--a jogger, a disco dancer--and they may or may not end up dead if they find out about the dead body in his bed. Frank almost maybe could be into these lovely young women, but he really only loves Anna still and he's sad. Iris offers him a handjob. Aww (?)

Iris grows increasingly jealous of Anna and insists that Frank dispose of her. To placate her, Frank agrees to marry her on the condition that Anna stays. But when Iris invites her family over to celebrate the engagement, Frank gets a gander at them and bolts. Yeah, they're kind of weird, but they seem nice, and Iris is heartbroken. I was surprised to find myself feeling bad for the psychotic housekeeper! (#Justice4Iris)

Eventually Anna's twin sister Elena (also Monreale) shows up, throwing several wrenches into all the works. Frank is like "Oh dip! She's just like Anna but she moves and blinks, what do I do?" Iris is like "Oh dip! She's just like Anna but she moves and blinks and Frank is going to love her, what do I do?"

Frank flees to dispose of Anna, and Iris cuts the lights in the house. As Elena wanders around wondering what the fuck is going on (much like we, the viewers), a ghostly voice calls to her, warning her to leave the house because it's cursed. Now look, I couldn't really tell if it was supposed to really be Anna speaking from beyond the grave or whether it was Iris pulling some Scooby-Doo kind of shit, but obviously I choose to believe the latter. That's too good! And it's a great way to get rid of unwanted company, so I'm filing it away for reference.

Elena wandering in the dark and Iris coming after her with a knife is the closest thing Beyond the Darkness has to an effectively tense scene, and thus it was my favorite. 

Iris and Frank end up duking it out. Cheeks are eaten, eyeballs are ripped out, groins are stabbed. It's gross! But honestly, it's far far from the grossest thing in the movie and at this point you're just like "okay, Buio Omega, what else you got for me?"

In a case of mixed-up corpses, Elena almost ends up buried alive. But then she doesn't! And actually, that might be the most shocking thing about this film. After all of the nastiness and nihilism, Beyond the Darkness ends on a silly, light note. 

I really do think I enjoyed this dumb movie. I say I "think" I enjoyed it because its only goal is to gross you out, and that's not usually my bag. The story is a simple one, and yet so many questions remain.

Has Frank always been a wackadoo, or did Anna's death break his brain and drive him insane? We know nothing of his personality before her death, so it's impossible to say. And as his one facial expression throughout the film is "being pretty" (he really is), we never really understand what his torment is all about. Is it just frustration that he and Anna never consummated their relationship? 

What's Iris's deal? Is she really in love with Frank, or does she just want his money? Has she always offered up some titty here, a handjob there? She is curious! She is a real weirdo and I am intrigued by her prison matron charms.

I suppose you could make some case for Beyond the Darkness as a film about grief and learning to let go of our loved ones when they're gone. But again, D'Amato's only aim is to induce nausea, so any greater meaning is likely happenstance. However, much as I choose to believe in Iris's Scooby-Doo antics, I also choose to believe that D'Amato was making a larger point. I'm putting that thesis out in the world if only to see Beyond the Darkness listed alongside Hereditary and The Babadook and Don't Look Now in listicles about horror movies that deal with grief.

Or maybe D'Amato is just saying "Hey, if your girlfriend looked like Cinzia Monreale and she died, you, too would consider keeping her around regardless," amirite? It's not like these kinds of things don't happen in real life.

As Anna, Monreale doesn't have much to do beyond, you know, playing dead, sometimes fully nude, sometimes clothed. She's great! When I was in college I had to play a dead body in a stage production; I was under a sheet and it was a struggle not to breathe in an obvious way. Meanwhile Monreale's out here not breathing, not moving, and not blinking, amazing. Between this and those chunky-ass contacts she wore in The Beyond, she has certainly suffered enough onscreen in some of horror's more insane outings.

While it took me forever to get to Beyond the Darkness--and I wasn't sure I'd ever get to it--I've had the Goblin (billed as "The Goblins" in the film) soundtrack forever because it's fuckin' wicked. While it could simply be a side effect of listening to an unmoored soundtrack for years, I was a bit surprised to come out of hearing it in situ feeling like it didn't really work. It doesn't organically mesh with what's happening onscreen. It's more sort of plonked in there with no real function. But hey, it's still fuckin' wicked, and I'm not entirely sure what an effective, integrated score would be for a gross out flick anyway. I am just saying.

It's a wonder I never saw Beyond the Darkness back in The Day™when my best friend and I would come home from the video store loaded down with every movie that promised to be the scariest and/or the grossest. Many horror-loving yoots go through that phase, yeah? Where mainlining Faces of Death I, II, and III seems like a great way to spend an evening. This film would have fit right in. Maybe that's why I find myself coming away from it bewildered by the fact that I may have enjoyed it: it took me right back to those kind of horror movie parties, where you (gasp) have fun and, when you're not gagging from the grue, you squeal and squirm with delight. I also spent much of the film marveling at D'Amato's cleverness with editing and camera angles; He makes such effective use of animal parts that audiences have often wondered if real human corpses were used. 

Beyond the Darkness is definitely not for the fait of heart, nor is it for the queasy of stomach. It's vile and repellant, I suppose, but ultimately it's a sad and silly film, not a mean one. So if, like me, you've been curious about it but hesitant to indulge, I say let go, let gore.

SHOCKtober: 50-41

Oh my gaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhd, the Top 50!

And YES, absolutely, this should have immediately sprung to mind or my life has been worth nothing:



The following films received four votes each:

50. Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer -- 1986, John McNaughton

49. The Sixth Sense -- 1999, M. Night Shyamalan

The following films received five votes each:

48. The Orphanage (aka El orfanato) -- 2007, J.A. Bayona

47. Seven -- 1995, David Fincher

46. Hellraiser -- 1987, Clive Barker

45. Jacob's Ladder -- 1990, Adrian Lyne

44. Ju-on -- 2002, Takashi Shimizu

43. Arachnophobia -- 1990, Frank Marshall

42. A Tale of Two Sisters -- 2003, Kim Jee-Woon

41. Carrie -- 1976, Brian De Palma

Gettin' down to both the nitties and the gritties here, folks. I was surprised that Arachnophobia received so many votes, but if there's one thing I've learned this SHOCKtober, it's this: y'all hate bugs.

The good news is, that picture is real. The even better news is, you can click to embiggen and really damage your psyche. Happy Halloween, everyone!

amazon one-star reviews: THE HILLS RUN RED

Hello, my friends, and welcome to an all-new feature here at the good ol' FG. Because I only have the smartest (and most attractive) readers, you doubtless surmised from the post title that the new feature is called amazon one-star reviews. In this scintillating project, I'll highlight...wait for it...one-star horror movie reviews verbatim from amazon.com- reviews for films considered to be genre classics, pieces of crap, and everything in between. Whatever catches my eye here where I live, which is on the razor's edge of danger, intrigue, and browsing The Internet. Why am I doing this? I don't know. But! we can always debate these 1-star reviews: is the reviewer actually on to something whilst skewering beloved films? Did he or she really watch the same movie the rest of us did? It will sure be fun to find out.

Let's start things off with the 2009 direct-to-DVD slasher flick The Hills Run Red.

 

Fun fact! Prior to the film's release, I was asked by a horror publication to attend a screening and give my opinion of what I saw- not to immediately review it, just to give it a thumbs up or down. Why? Because the director is a "friend" of not only the publication but also the horror community in general, and therefore reviewing his films is, I guess, tricky business.

I reported back that I thought it was terrible and I'd give it a negative review and should I go ahead and start writing? I simply got an "okay, no don't write anything" or something along those lines in response, and that was the last I heard of the matter. Fast forward to the DVD's release and sure enough, there's a review, written by someone else. A positive review- not glowing, mind, but still positive. Pretty gross, right? Right. And that's what can go on behind the scenes of...you know, stuff and things and what the cool kids really get up to sometimes with that stuff and those things. Well, at least you don't have to worry about that here, as none of the cool kids in the horror community give a rat's ass about what I say here and since no one pays me for Final Girl, I can actually give, you know, my honest opinion about movies.

Anyway. Here's today's one-star review!

This movie did not make any since at all, I did not like the movie it was not even scary at all but that's how everybody makes their money some how, I watched the movie 2 times try to make since out of it but it was still the same, so I don't think no one should buy this movie I'm telling the truth it is not any gd at all thanks a lot.

So there you have it. What do you think of The Hills Run Red? Do you think it made any since? Is it any gd? Weigh in!

The Year in Horror: 1986

I can't do math. I know, this is not at all shocking. After all, I'm a girl and it's just a fact that girls can't do math. However, I took that concept to moronic new highs (or lows) recently when I had a bright idea for a post topic. See, the idea had something to do with choosing a movie released 25 years ago- I figured it'd be easy, as 25 years ago was, what...1967? '68? Something like that. Maybe I'd write about Night of the Living Dead or Rosemary's Baby or something else equally ca-lassic. Just when I smushed my face up all thinking really hard-style about which movie to choose, however, my brain slapped me across the face. What kind of time-warp shit was going on? My brain was all, "Bitch, 1968 is more than forty years ago. Where are you getting this "25 years" from? 25 years ago, it was 1986. Idiot! Now ice me up some cream."

Apparently in my world, the last decade or so has not occurred. 1986! Nineteen eighty effing six! It doesn't seem possible that it was 1986 25 years ago- especially since I am only 23 myself- but I assure you...I have consulted my science calculator and it is most certainly the case.

Then I got a bit whiny. 1986? No good movies came out in 1986. Nothing good whatsoever came out of 1986! The mid-eighties were a cultural wasteland! They were nothing but a big, dark pit filled with Glass Tiger cassettes, snap bracelets, and Z Cavaricci pants. Why, it's shudder-inducing, I tells ya!

This line of thinking was interrupted by yet another wallop from my brain- "1986 was actually a damn good year for horror, you dolt. Now where's that ice cream?" My brain is right about that, mostly. Take my hand, won't you, and let's travel back a whopping 25 years to 1986!

The sequels

Okay, the sequels that hit in '86 were very comme ci, comme ça if you know what I mean. Some are classics of cinema- such as Aliens, in which one Ellen Ripley became a bona fide example of the elusive "strong female character" and my burning dislike of Paul Reiser was born.


Then other sequels...well, the Friday the 13th series pooped out its sixth entry, Jason Lives, a film that is more beloved than it deserves simply because it had the good sense to be released after the dreadful Part V: A New Beginning. I cannot speak knowledgeably on Lamberto Bava's Demons 2, but someday I hope to rectify that. That's right, someday! Someday I'll see it, I just know I will! Verily, I brought a big bag of hope to this blog post.

Poltergeist II is...well, it's there and it's worth a watch, not the least reason why is the tequila worm scene (if you haven't seen it, I'll leave that up to your imagination). 1986 also brought us The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, which is not like the first one, I'll give it that. Psycho 3 brought about a bit of WTF-ery with its "Oh, wait...is this a black comedy?" approach, and the less said about Howling II: Your Sister is a Werewolf, the better...but Silent Night, Deadly Night 2 is another matter entirely. Friends, it's always Garbage Day in my heart.

The slashers

While the films of Freddy Krueger, Jason Voorhees, and Michael Myers would be churned out for years to come, by 1986 the slasher film was in its death throes and original films within the genre were scarce. Mind you, if the so bad I forgot I even saw it 1986 flick Terror at Tenkiller is any indication, the demise of the slasher was probably a good thing. On the other hand, April Fools Day also hit in '86, and we all know how much I love that movie. I SAID WE ALL KNOW.

Ahem. Oh yeah, and remember that time I made a whole bunch of you watch Slaughter High for Film Club? That was fun. Shut up, Slaughter High is the best movie ever even though it stinks. I mean, "C'mon you guys, let's par-deeeeeeee!"...how can you not want to marry it?

The sci-fi-ers

I'm not sure why, but sci-fi/horror movies were big, big, big in 1986. I mentioned Aliens, but let's not forget David Cronenberg's The Fly, which holds up remarkably well despite the dueling fluff-mullets of Jeff Goldblum and Geena Davis. In the words of Pauline Kael, "That shit be classic, yo." Besides, I'm pretty sure that disliking Geena Davis in any capacity will put you on Homeland Security's radar as probably a terrorist.

Stuart Gordon rode the freaky train to H.P. LovecraftTown (I don't know what that means) with From Beyond, which scarred my young brain in several capacities. Critters did their thing in Critters, Martian invaders invaded in Invaders from Mars (from Tobe Hooper!). There were wicked huge gorillas running amok in Link and King Kong Lives (which, the particularly astute among you may notice is also a sequel). And then there was Night of the Creeps. Thrill me, indeed.

More, more, more

Look, I have no idea if Wes Craven's Deadly Friend is good, bad, neither, or somewhere in between. I have not seen it since I saw it 50,000,000 times when it came out and all I really remember is this: Kristy Swanson getting pushed down the stairs by her father was some high fucking tragedy, and Anne Ramsey gets her head blowed up real good by a high-speed basketball. Other than that? I have no idea. Those memories themselves may be erroneous! I suppose I could watch it again to see, but I'd almost rather have it live in my memories, only brought to the fore about when someone says "Have you seen Deadly Friend?", to which I will emphatically reply "I LOVE THAT MOVIE!" even though that should probably be in the past tense. Loved. I loved that movie.

Man, The Hitcher, amiright? Good, good stuff. And that scene. You know the one. This one, which also qualified as high tragedy to my young mind:


I can't believe I never really thought about it much before my recent math...problem, but y'all, 1986! It gave us gold, it gave us crap. Witchboard, House, Gothic (I frickin' hate Gothic. I've tried and I've tried, and I just do not like it. Is it me? I feel like that movie is beloved, at least on a cult level, though the reasons for this obviously escape me), Maximum Overdrive (!!!), Trick or Treat, Troll...those really were the days and this journey down Memory Lane sure was fun. Next up, I'll celebrate the 5th anniversary of 1978!

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!

Film Club: City of the Living Dead

As I think back on Lucio Fulci's City of the Living Dead (aka The Gates of Hell), I wonder at my own weird prejudices- like, why am I so quick to give Italian horror films a break? Whenever a plot is thinner than wafer-thin, or nothing really makes sense, I just shrug and give it a "Yeah, but it's Italian so it it's okay!" Hmm. Maybe I should clarify: I give a pass to directors like Fulci and Dario Argento. Sometimes their films have no logic to them whatsoever, but even so they're evocative. I'm willing to go hungry on the story if I get all full on feelings and frights, you know?

City of the Living Dead is a prime example of this. Here's what happens, as best as I could figure: Father Thomas hangs himself in a cemetery in Dunwich, which was built on ground that was originally part of Salem. His suicide opens the gates of Hell. A psychic (Catriona MacColl) realizes that stuff is hinky, and she knows that the gates must be closed by All Saints' Day (which is totally coming up soon!) or the dead will walk the Earth. She enlists the aid of a reporter (Christopher George) and together they seek to destroy the body of Father Thomas. They don't manage to do it in time, but it kind of doesn't matter. Or does it?

That "or does it?" comes courtesy of that ending which...was vague and weird and made no sense and felt like it happened spontaneously in the editing bay.


I don't know, I guess if my interpretation is right then it's not that nonsensical. But as the film was passing in front of my eyeballs, it seemed incredibly disjointed- characters come and go and get their brains ripped out and I never felt like I knew who was who...nor did I much care.

But see? I was okay with that because there was so much weirdness going on. Who needs character development when you've got drills going through faces (so gross) and rooms full of maggots (SO GROSS) and people puking up their insides (SO GROSS)? I'm torn regarding my allowances with City of the Living Dead: is it okay to cut it this much slack?


I'm not giving it a total pass, mind you. It was entertaining (and so fucking GROSS), but it's no The Beyond- aside from the TOTAL GROSSNESS of it (have I mentioned how gross it is?), I don't think it'll resonate in my brain for all that long.

It was certainly creepy, though, but that may simply be my weird weakness to Italian flicks (especially the zombie variety) coming into play. There's something about them that makes me incredibly uncomfortable and puts me in a permanent willies-state. I can't really explain it- it's a combination of the music and the dubbing and the anything can happen-ness and the graphic, unrelenting violence and the way characters in Italian horror films seem to simply stare at the oncoming threat until it attacks them...all of it automatically induces goosebumps. I had them before the credits of City of the Living Dead stopped rolling. As I said, though, that's probably just my weird neurosis- your mileage may vary.

I think I'll continue to feel torn about City until...I don't know, until I stop thinking about it, I guess (profound, I know). It did make me nostalgic for the good ol' zombie days, though- where the gates of Hell opening and unleashing walking corpses upon the Earth is kind of a big fucking deal; in this day of virus-riddled notzombies and no one ever rising out of the ground anymore, the undead have lost their otherness. Their otherness and their GD scariness. Too many satirical takes on the genre have sort of neutered them, made them essentially just like us, but stinkier- you know, what if zombies had jobs? What if we used them as laborers? Meh. Give me the rotting, shambling (and TELEPORTING!) variety any day. As torn as I remain, I'll take City of the Living Dead over Day of the Dead 2. I know, that's a big NO EFFING DUH.

Film Club Coolies, y'all!
----------------------------
Nilbog Milk
The Vault of Horror
Less Than 3 Film
Cinema Suicide
Things That Don't Suck
Wopsploitation
The Hougly Film and Beer Journal
In One Ear...
From Midnight, With Love
emma blackwood
Hugo Stiglitz Makes Movies
The House of Sparrows
Mondo Bizarro
Aphorisms and Ectoplasm (it's gif-a-riffic!!)
Fear on Friday (first timer!)
Moon in the Gutter
Horrorful
Pussy Goes Grrr

Supernatural 70s Week! Day 1

Are you scratching your l'il noggin over that there title- "Supernatural 70s Week!", wondering just what tricks I've got up my sleeve now? Are ya, punk? Are you saying to yourself, "How dare she! I came here to read about slasher flicks, dammit, not those delightfully obtuse, sometimes even a bit freaky movies from the 1970s involving the supernatural! I want masked killers chasing teenagers, not possessions and haunted houses and other assorted weird goings-on! What the f?". Well, to those of you out there who've got your panties in a bunch over this, I say- chillax, homies. It's just a week! Besides- must you box me in? Hmm? When Steven Seagal said "I may be a chubby, lethargic actor and a zen C-grade action star, but is there not more to me?", how did the world respond, readers? That's right- the world said "Oh Steven Seagal, show us MORE!" and gave the man a recording contract. And if Steven Seagal can branch out, goldurnit, than so can I. Plus, it's just a week!

To kick off the week I took in The Legacy (1978), starring Stepford Wife Katharine Ross and Roadhouse tough guy Sam Elliott as an American couple who encounter bizarre happenings at an English manor. Yeeagh!

Maggie and Pete (Ross and Elliott) are New York architects (or something- it's never really explained what they do) who get a vague job offer from an unknown employer- they get paid $50,000 as an advance and are told to report to England in a week to get all the details. Despite such scant information, Maggie is hot to trot and convinces Pete (who's rightfully dubious about the whole thing) to come along. They leave for England right away so they can have a little sightseeing vacation before getting down to work.

Then we have the credit sequence, and we're immediately reminded that the movie was birthed in the 70s: the sensitive musical montage. That's right, there are shots of the young couple buying oranges, walking hand in hand, laying atop a blanket in a field...while we're treated to some primo Kiki Dee soundtrack action. Yes, Kiki Dee, she who couldn't break Elton John's heart if she tried. Sometimes I feel like every movie from the 70s, whether a horror flick or not, had to have a 'theme song'. You know what I mean? Usually performed by someone you've never heard of, the song gets its own shout-out in the credits. It's kind of distracting, but that could just be me.

As the strains of Kiki fade away, Pete and Maggie are driving down a winding road on a motorcycle, going rather fast. Around the corner comes a car, there's swerving, there's a spinning camera, there's Pete and Maggie on the ground. Don't worry- they're alright, but the motorcycle needs some repairs before it can be driven again. The fellow being chauffeured in the car, Jason Mountolive, tells the couple that he'll arrange for the repairs to the bike, but in the meantime they simply MUST come back to his house for a spot of tea. Those crazy Brits! Cheerio, ol chap! Ta ta! Spare a pence, guv'nah?

They arrive at Jason's pad- one of those sprawling English manors snuggled into the rolling hillside- and the host tells his guests to go on inside and make themselves comfy. Then he pops a few pills and drives off. Okey-dokey...no matter that they're left alone, because Pete and Maggie interpret "make yourselves comfy" to mean "go have it off", and so they do. Pete decides on a post-coital shower, and while he's rinsing off the stench of their sweet sweet lovemakings, the water...gets really hot! And Pete can't turn it off! He crashes through the glass shower doors to avoid getting burned and makes a mess everywhere. Is there something evil afoot at the Mountolive residence? Or is it simply...bad plumbing? Ooo-eeee-ooo!

Soon enough, 5 other guests arrive via helicopter to liven things up a bit. Host Jason, however, is nowhere to be found. Or is he? Is that him watching everyone from afar, all wheezy and shaky? And why does his creepy staff- including the really creepy Nurse Adams, who may or may not have the ability to turn into a cat- keep whispering amongst themselves that "The master is fading fast"?

Soon, one of the guests, Maria, is cavorting alone in the pool, doing what looks to be one-half of a synchronized swim routine. When she comes up for air, though, she finds she cannot break the surface of the water! It's as if someone has laid plexiglass atop the pool, or Maria is just adding some mime-ery to her swim routine. Either way, she can't get her head above water and she sinks to the bottom, then floats. Uh oh! When they find her body, the guests all assume Maria hit her head or something and drowned- except for Pete, who notices that there's no marks on the body. Is there something evil afoot at the Mountolive residence? Or is it simply...an accident? Ooo-eeee-ooo!

Later on, Pete is left to his own devices while Maggie and the 4 remaining guests are summoned to the host's room. Jason, who was a man in his 40s earlier in the day, is now a wheezy, wrinkly old thing, bed-ridden behind some sort of hyperbaric curtains. He's hooked up to all sorts of machinery, monitored by the suspicious Adams. Jason rasps to his audience about "the legacy"- that the ring each of them is wearing binds them to him, and when he dies only one of them will take his place and inherit everything. Maggie's a bit confused, since she isn't wearing a ring. Jason beckons her to his side, though, and a hand that looks like it's made out of beef jerky thrusts out from behind the curtain and grabs her wrist! Suddenly...Maggie is wearing the ring! And she can't get it off! Is there something evil afoot at the Mountolive residence? Or is it simply...that Jason didn't know her ring size? Ooo-eeee-ooo!

Eww, you can keep your ring, Grossilocks!

Maggie and Pete decide that it's the former, and try to make a break for it. They steal some horses, gallop into town and steal a car...but no matter which road they take, they end up back at Jason Mountolive's house! What the-? How is that possible? After several attempts at escape, the couple just gives up and heads beack inside for some grub.

At dinner, Maggie asks fellow ring-wearer Roger Daltrey (yes, from The Who) if everyone's into black magic. Surprisingly, they all say yes, and it's no big whoop. Then Roger Daltrey chokes on some ham and dies.

From this point on, you may be shocked to learn that it gets a little convoluted. Maggie uncovers some truths via my favorite cinematic method: the damning newspaper clippings left lying around! Yes, Maggie discovers that everyone at the house has a sordid past...Jason "bought their lives" and now their punishment fits their crime. See, like, you know how I said that Roger Daltrey choked on some ham, right? And stuff? Well, it turns out that a long time ago he gave one of his bandmates some drugs...and the bandmate choked on the pills and died! And stuff!

Eventually there are only two competing heirs remaining: Maggie and the evil Frenchman Jacques. Jacques is up on the roof, shooting at Pete with a shotgun. Pete is shooting back with a crossbow. They shoot each other, but not fatally- then Maggie rushes out to Pete's side as he lays on the grass bleeding. Jacques raises the shotgun, Maggie raises her hand, and the shotgun gets clogged and blows up in the Frenchman's face! He falls off the roof to his death, and now Maggie is the final heir! She goes to Jason's side to claim her prize. He's really about to bite the dust now, and he wheezes: "Take my necklace...and my powwwwwww-ahhhhhhhhhh!". Oh, in case you didn't know by now, he means the power of Satan. Eventually, Maggie will find 6 worthy potential heirs to her legacy, kill 5 of them, and pass the necklace and the powah onto the survivor. Maggie seems fine with all of this, for some reason.

Meanwhile, Pete is battling mano a mano with Nurse Adams. He pushes her down the stairs, and I kid you not...she meows all the way down. Yes, apparently she COULD turn into a cat. Pete makes his way into Jason's room, goes nuts, and smashes everything...but he's too late! Maggie is the new master of the house! She has inherited...The Legacy! And in one of the most ridiculous, pulled-out-of-the-writer's-ass endings ever, Maggie and Pete are perfectly a-ok with the fact that she's now a vessel for Satan. Maggie gives Pete her ring, meaning he'll be one of the six potential heirs some day...also meaning, she may end up killing him at some point! But that's cool! It's all good! And witness the exchange that ends the movie:

"You're getting to be tough to deal with, Slim."
"I know. I've got the power!"
"Yeah, I know you have. Now what're you gonna do with it?"
"Anything I want!"

OK...what the fuck? She didn't get her GED, she didn't get reconstructive surgery, she didn't leave her abusive husband... she inherited the powers of Satan! How can they just accept that so easily?! They wanted to escape the house earlier in the day, and now it's like they won fucking Powerball! Ah, well. I love this whole subgenre, even if the movies are more confusing and ludicrous than they are frightening or...well, good. That's why I'm dedicating a whole week to 'em! And I give the inaugural flick...6 and a half out of 10 beef jerky fingers!